to my scribes? I need to know what is happening in Jah Keved.”
“I will do better than that,” Roion said. “Where are you staying, girl? I offer an invitation to visit my palace. I too would hear of your homeland.”
But . . . she’d just said she didn’t know anything . . .
Shallan dredged up Jasnah’s training. They didn’t care about Jah Keved. They wanted to get information about her betrothal—they suspected that there was more to the story.
The two who had just invited her were among those Jasnah rated the least politically savvy. The others—like Aladar and Hatham—would wait until a private time to make the invitation, so they didn’t reveal their interest in public.
“Your concern is unwarranted, Roion,” Dalinar said. “She is, of course, staying in my warcamp and has a position among my clerks.”
“Actually,” Shallan said, “I didn’t get a chance to respond to your offer, Brightlord Kholin. I would love the opportunity to be in your service, but alas, I have already taken a position in another warcamp.”
Stunned silence.
She knew what she wanted to say next. A huge gamble, one of which Jasnah would never have approved. She found herself speaking anyway, trusting her instincts. It worked in art, after all.
“Brightlord Sebarial,” Shallan said, looking toward the bearded man that Jasnah so thoroughly detested, “was the first to offer me a position and invite me to stay with him.”
The man almost choked on his wine. He looked up over the cup toward her, narrowing his eyes.
She shrugged with what she hoped was an innocent gesture, and smiled. Please . . .
“Uh, that’s right,” Sebarial said, leaning back. “She’s a distant family relation. Couldn’t possibly live with myself if I didn’t give her a place to stay.”
“His offer was quite generous,” Shallan said. “Three full broams a week support.”
Sebarial’s eyes bugged out.
“I wasn’t aware of this,” Dalinar said, looking from Sebarial to her.
“I’m sorry, Brightlord,” Shallan said. “I should have told you. I didn’t find it appropriate to be staying in the house of someone who was courting me. Surely you understand.”
He frowned. “What I’m having trouble understanding is why anyone would want to be closer to Sebarial than they need to be.”
“Oh, Uncle Sebarial is quite tolerable, once you get used to him,” Shallan said. “Like a very annoying noise that you eventually learn to ignore.”
Most seemed horrified at her comment, though Aladar smiled. Sebarial—as she’d hoped—laughed out loud.
“I guess that is settled,” Ruthar said, dissatisfied. “I do hope you’ll at least be willing to come brief me.”
“Give it up, Ruthar,” Sebarial said. “She’s too young for you. Though with you involved, I’m sure it would be brief.”
Ruthar sputtered. “I wasn’t implying . . . You moldy old . . . Bah!”
Shallan was glad that attention then turned from her back to the topics at hand, because that last comment had her blushing. Sebarial was inappropriate. Still, he seemed to be making an effort to leave himself out of these political discussions, and that seemed like the place where Shallan wanted to be. The position with the most freedom. She would still work with Dalinar and Navani on Jasnah’s notes, but she didn’t want to be beholden to them.
Who is to say being beholden to this man is any different? Shallan thought, rounding the room to approach where Sebarial sat, without wife or family members to attend him. He was unmarried.
“Almost threw you out on your ear, girl,” Sebarial said quietly, sipping his wine and not looking at her. “Stupid move, putting yourself in my hands. Everyone knows I like to set things on fire and watch them burn.”
“And yet you didn’t throw me out,” she said. “So it wasn’t a stupid move. Merely a risk that paid rewards.”
“Still might drop you. I’m certainly not paying that three broams. That’s almost as much as my mistress costs, and at least I get something from that arrangement.”
“You’ll pay,” Shallan said. “It’s a matter of public record now. But don’t worry. I will earn my keep.”
“You have information about Kholin?” Sebarial asked, studying his wine.
So he did care.
“Information, yes,” Shallan said. “Less about Kholin, and more about the world itself. Trust me, Sebarial. You’ve just entered into a very profitable arrangement.”
She’d have to figure out why that was.
The others continued arguing about the Assassin in White, and she gathered that he had attacked here but had been fought off. As Aladar steered the conversation to a complaint that his gemstones were being taken by the Crown—Shallan didn’t know