are your gods?”
“They are the souls of those ancient. Those who gave of themselves to destroy.” A different rhythm to his words this time, slow and reverent. He looked up at Dalinar. “They hate you and your kind, sir. This new form they have given my people . . . it is something terrible. It will bring something terrible.”
“Can you lead us to the Parshendi city?” Dalinar asked.
Rlain’s voice changed again. A different rhythm. “My people . . .”
“You said they are gone,” Dalinar said.
“They might be,” Rlain said. “I got close enough to see an army, tens of thousands. But surely they left some in other forms. The elderly? The young? Who watches our children?”
Dalinar stepped up to Rlain, waving back Adolin, who raised an anxious hand. He stooped down, laying an arm on the Parshendi man’s shoulder.
“Soldier,” Dalinar said, “if what you’re telling me is correct, then the most important thing you can do is lead us to your people. I will see that the noncombatants are protected, my word of honor on it. If something terrible is happening to your people, you need to help me stop it.”
“I . . .” Rlain took a deep breath. “Yes, sir,” he said to a different rhythm.
“Meet with Shallan Davar,” Dalinar said. “Describe the route to her, and get us a map. Teleb, you may release the prisoner into the custody of Bridge Four.”
The Oldblood Shardbearer nodded. As the group of them left, letting in a gust of rainy wind, Dalinar sighed and sat down beside Navani.
“You trust his word?”
“I don’t know,” Dalinar said. “But something did shake that man, Navani. Soundly.”
“He’s Parshendi,” she said. “You may be misreading his body language.”
Dalinar leaned forward, clasping his hands before him. “The countdown?” he asked.
“Three days away,” Navani said. “Three days before Lightday.”
So little time. “We hasten our pace,” he said.
Inward. Toward the center.
And destiny.
You must become king. Of Everything.
—From the Diagram, Tenets of Instruction, Back of the Footboard: paragraph 1
Shallan fought against the wind, pulling her stormcoat—stolen from a soldier—close around her as she struggled up the slick incline.
“Brightness?” Gaz asked. He grabbed his cap to keep it from blowing free. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“Of course I am,” Shallan said. “Whether or not what I’m doing is wise . . . well, that’s another story.”
These winds were unusual for the Weeping, which was supposed to be a period of placid rainfall, a time for contemplating the Almighty, a respite from highstorms.
Maybe things were different out here in the stormlands. She pulled herself up the rocks. The Shattered Plains had grown increasingly rough as the armies traveled inward—now on their eighth day of the expedition—following Shallan’s map, created with the help of Rlain, the former bridgeman.
Shallan crested the rock formation and found the view that the scouts had described. Vathah and Gaz stomped up behind her, muttering about the cold. The heart of the Shattered Plains extended before Shallan. The inner plateaus, never explored by men.
“It’s here,” she said.
Gaz scratched at the socket beneath his eye patch. “Rocks?”
“Yes, guardsman Gaz,” Shallan said. “Rocks. Beautiful, wonderful rocks.”
In the distance, she saw shadows draped in a veil of misty rain. Seen together in a group like this, it was unmistakable. This was a city. A city covered over with centuries’ worth of crem, like children’s blocks dribbled with many coats of melted wax. To the innocent eye, it undoubtedly looked much like the rest of the Shattered Plains. But it was oh so much more.
It was proof. Even this formation Shallan stood upon had probably once been a building. Weathered on the stormward side, dribbled with crem down the leeward side to create the bulbous, uneven slope they had climbed.
“Brightness!”
She ignored the voices from down below, instead waving impatiently for the spyglass. Gaz handed it to her, and she raised it to inspect the plateaus ahead. Unfortunately, the thing had fogged up on one end. She tried to rub it clean, rain washing over her, but the fog was on the inside. Blasted device.
“Brightness?” Gaz asked. “Shouldn’t we, uh, listen to what they’re saying down below?”
“More twisted Parshendi spotted,” Shallan said, raising the spyglass again. Wouldn’t the designer of the thing have built it to be sealed on the inside, to prevent moisture from getting in?
Gaz and Vathah stepped back as several members of Bridge Four reached the top of the incline.
“Brightness,” one of the bridgemen said, “Highprince Dalinar has withdrawn the vanguard and ordered a secure perimeter on the