Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,85

I can find you. Regardless, for now I should be returning to my quarters.”

He pretended to see Shallan there for the first time, and hastily bowed to her. It was a fair effort, but overdone. She nodded to him as he retreated through their rooms and left. He’d want to meet her in the gardens, but she didn’t intend to rush off to do his bidding.

“Balat,” she said. “That man. Have you known him long?”

“Hm? What was that, small one?” Balat turned toward her. During their first months together, talking to him had felt so awkward. Balat expected her to be the same timid girl who had left searching for Jasnah. Being with them had made Shallan realize how different she’d become in their months apart.

It had been a fight, strangely, not to backslide when around these three. It wasn’t that she wanted to be the younger, timid version of herself. But it was familiar in ways these new versions of her were not.

“That man,” Veil said. “What’s his name?”

“We call him Gobby,” Balat said. “He’s old to be in training, but with the call out for new soldiers, lots of people who haven’t really held a sword before are joining up.”

“Is he good?” Veil asked.

“Gobby? Nah. He’s fine, I mean, but makes a lot of mistakes. Almost chopped a man’s arm off by accident last week! Captain Talanan laid into him for that one, I’ll tell you!” He chuckled, but Veil’s unamused face made him trail off.

She became Shallan and smiled belatedly, but her brothers left to go eat. She watched them chatting together and felt something stir inside her: regret. They’d found an equilibrium as a family, but she wasn’t certain she’d ever get used to being the adult in the room when they were together.

It made her want to go bother Adolin. She thought she could pick him out below, riding Dalinar’s horse on the field they’d dedicated to the animals. But she wouldn’t interrupt him—spending time with the Ryshadium was one of the purest joys of Adolin’s life.

Best to go attend Mraize, as he wanted.

* * *

“Garden” was too grand a term by far for the small field beneath the windows to her brothers’ quarters. Yes, some of the Alethi gardeners had begun growing shalebark ridges or other ornamental plants here—but the cold weather stunted growth. The result, even with the occasional use of a heating fabrial, was little more than a network of colored mounds on the ground, not the gorgeous cultivated walls of a true garden. She picked out only two small lifespren.

Mraize was a dark pillar on the far side, surveying the frosted mountain peaks. Veil didn’t try to sneak up on him; she knew he’d sense her coming. He seemed to be able to do that no matter how little sound she made. It was a trick she’d been trying to replicate.

Instead she stepped up beside him. She’d fetched her hat and coat, the latter buttoned against the cold, but she’d covered that and her face with the illusion of a guard in Sebarial’s army. In case someone saw the two of them meeting.

“You,” Mraize said without looking at her, “are to be commended again, little knife. The Sons of Honor are basically defunct. The few remaining members have fled into hiding, separately. With Dalinar’s soldiers ‘restoring order’ in the warcamps, there is little chance of the infestation restarting.”

“One of your operatives killed Ialai,” Veil said, trying to pick out what Mraize was looking at. He was staring intently, tracking something out there. She saw only snow and slopes.

“Yes,” Mraize said.

“I don’t like the idea of someone watching over my shoulder,” Veil said. “It says you don’t trust me.”

“Should I trust you three? I’m under the impression that at least part of you isn’t … fully committed.”

She finally picked out what Mraize was watching: a small dot of color soaring through one of the canyons. His pet chicken, the green one. Mraize whistled sharply, and the sound echoed below. The creature turned in their direction.

“You must decide,” Mraize said to her, “how long you are going to continue this flirtation, Veil. You tease us. Are you a Ghostblood or not? You enjoy the benefits of our organization, but refuse to get the tattoo.”

“Why would I want something that could reveal me?”

“Because of the commitment it represents. Because of the permanence.” He eyed her, noting her illusion. “Of course, with your powers nothing is permanent, is it? You deal exclusively in the ephemeral.”

He