guilt. From what Tyn said, the stories she told, it had become clear that she often chose to have someone like Shallan under her wing. An acolyte, someone to nurture. Shallan suspected that was at least partly because Tyn liked having someone around to impress.
Her life must be so lonely, Shallan thought. Always moving, always taking whatever she can get, but never giving. Except once in a while, to a young thief she can foster . . .
A strange shadow moved across the wall of the tent. Pattern, though Shallan only noticed him because she knew what to look for. He could be practically invisible when he wanted to be, though unlike some spren he could not vanish completely.
The spanreed continued to write, giving Tyn a longer rundown of conditions in various countries. After that, it produced a curious statement.
I have checked with informants at the Shattered Plains, the pen wrote. The ones you asked after are, indeed, wanted men. Most are former members of the army of Highprince Sadeas. He is not forgiving of deserters.
“What’s this?” Shallan asked, rising from her stool and going to look more closely at what the pen wrote.
“I implied earlier we’d have to discuss this,” Tyn said, changing the paper for the spanreed. “As I keep explaining, the life we lead requires doing some harsh things.”
The leader, whom you call Vathah, is worth a bounty of four emerald broams, the pen wrote. The rest, two broams each.
“Bounty?” Shallan demanded. “I gave promises to these men!”
“Hush!” Tyn said. “We’re not alone in this camp, fool child. If you want us dead, all you need to do is let them overhear this conversation.”
“We’re not turning them in for money,” Shallan said more softly. “Tyn, I gave my word.”
“Your word?” Tyn said, laughing. “Kid, what do you think we are? Your word?”
Shallan blushed. On the table, the spanreed continued to write, oblivious to the fact they weren’t paying attention. It was saying something about a job Tyn had done before.
“Tyn,” Shallan said, “Vathah and his men can be useful.”
Tyn shook her head, walking over to the side of the tent, pouring herself a cup of wine. “You should be proud of what you did here. You have barely any experience, yet you took over three separate groups, convincing them to put you—practically sphereless and completely without authority—in charge. Brilliant!
“But here’s the thing. The lies we tell, the dreams we create, they’re not real. We can’t let them be real. This might be the hardest lesson you have to learn.” She turned to Shallan, her expression having gone hard, all sense of relaxed playfulness gone. “When a good con woman dies, it’s usually because she starts believing her own lies. She finds something good and wants it to continue. She keeps it going, thinking she can juggle it. One day more, she tells herself. One day more, and then . . .”
Tyn dropped the cup. It hit the ground, the wine splashing bloodred across the tent floor and Tyn’s rug.
Red carpet . . . once it was white . . .
“Your rug,” Shallan said, feeling numb.
“You think I can afford to haul a rug with me when I leave the Shattered Plains?” Tyn asked softly, stepping across the spilled wine, taking Shallan by the arm. “You think we can take any of this? It’s meaningless. You’ve lied to these men. You’ve built yourself up, and tomorrow—when we enter that warcamp—the truth will hit you like a slap in the face.
“You think you can actually get clemency for these men? From a man like Highprince Sadeas? Don’t be an idiot. Even if you get the con going with Dalinar, you want to spend what little credibility we can fake in order to free murderers from Dalinar’s political enemy? How long did you think you could keep this lie going?”
Shallan sat back down on the stool, agitated—both at Tyn and at herself. She shouldn’t be surprised that Tyn wanted to betray Vathah and his men—she knew what Tyn was, and had eagerly let the woman teach her. In truth, Vathah and his men probably did deserve their punishments.
That didn’t mean Shallan was going to betray them. She had told them they could change. She had given her word.
Lies . . .
Just because you learned how to lie didn’t mean you had to let the lie rule you. But how could she protect Vathah without alienating Tyn? Did she even have that option?
What would Tyn do when Shallan proved to actually