are in—”
“I’d rather hear it from you,” Shallan said. “Call me lazy.”
“How did you find me?” the woman asked.
“A sharp-eyed ally,” Shallan said. “I told him to watch the windows, then send me word of where you were. I was waiting up above.” She grimaced. “I was hoping to catch one of you placing the instructions.”
“We placed them before even contacting you,” the woman said. She hesitated, then took a few steps upward. “Iyatil.”
Shallan cocked her head.
“My name,” the woman said. “Iyatil.”
“I’ve never heard one like it.”
“Unsurprising. Your task today was to investigate a certain new arrival into Dalinar’s camp. We wish to know about this person, and Dalinar’s allegiances are uncertain.”
“He’s loyal to the king and the Throne.”
“Outwardly,” the woman said. “His brother knew things of an extraordinary nature. We are uncertain if Dalinar was told of these things or not, and his interactions with Amaram worry us. This newcomer is linked.”
“Amaram is making maps of the Shattered Plains,” Shallan said. “Why? What is out there that he wants?” And why would he want to return the Voidbringers?
Iyatil didn’t answer.
“Well,” Shallan said, rising, “let’s get to it, then. Shall we?”
“Together?” Iyatil said.
Shallan shrugged. “You can sneak along behind, or you can just go with me.” She extended her hand.
Iyatil inspected the hand, then clasped it with her own gloved freehand in acceptance. She kept her other hand on the dagger at her side the entire time, though.
* * *
Shallan flipped through the instructions Mraize had left, as the oversized palanquin lurched along toward Dalinar’s warcamp. Iyatil sat across from Shallan, legs tucked beneath her, watching with beady, masked eyes. The woman wore simple trousers and a shirt, such that Shallan had originally mistaken her for a boy that first time.
Her presence was thoroughly unsettling.
“A madman,” Shallan said, flipping to the next page of instructions. “Mraize is this interested in a simple madman?”
“Dalinar and the king are interested,” Iyatil said. “So, then, are we.”
There did seem to be some sort of cover-up involved. The madman had arrived in the custody of a man named Bordin, a servant whom Dalinar had stationed in Kholinar years ago. Mraize’s information indicated that this Bordin was no simple messenger, but instead one of Dalinar’s most trusted footmen. He had been left behind in Alethkar to spy on the queen, or so the Ghostbloods inferred. But why would someone need to keep an eye on the queen? The briefing didn’t say.
This Bordin had come to the Shattered Plains in haste a few weeks ago, bearing the madman and other mysterious cargo. Shallan’s charge was to find out who this madman was and why Dalinar had hidden him away in a monastery with strict instructions that nobody was to be allowed access save specific ardents.
“Your master knows more about this,” Shallan said, “than he is telling me.”
“My master?” Iyatil asked.
“Mraize.”
The woman laughed. “You mistake. He is not my master. He is my student.”
“In what?” Shallan asked.
Iyatil stared at her with a level gaze and gave no reply.
“Why the mask?” Shallan asked, leaning forward. “What does it mean? Why do you hide?”
“I have many times asked myself,” Iyatil said, “why those of you here go about so brazenly with features exposed to all who would see them. My mask reserves my self. Besides, it gives me the ability to adapt.”
Shallan sat back, thoughtful.
“You are willing to ponder,” Iyatil said. “Rather than asking question after question. This is good. Your instincts, however, must be judged. Are you the hunter, or are you the quarry?”
“Neither,” Shallan said immediately.
“All are one or the other.”
The palanquin’s porters slowed. Shallan peeked out the curtains and found that they had finally reached the edge of Dalinar’s warcamp. Here, soldiers at the gates stopped each person in line waiting to enter.
“How will you get us in?” Iyatil asked as Shallan closed the curtains. “Highprince Kholin has grown cautious of late, with assassins appearing in the night. What lie will gain us access to his realm?”
Delightful, she thought, revising her list of tasks. Shallan not only had to infiltrate the monastery and discover information about this madman, she had to do it without revealing too much about herself—or what she could do—to Iyatil.
She had to think quickly. The soldiers at the front called for the palanquin to approach—lighteyes wouldn’t be required to wait in the ordinary line, and the soldiers would assume this nice a vehicle had someone rich inside. Taking a deep breath, Shallan removed her hat, pulled her hair forward over her shoulder,