the center plateau for you.”
“Do it,” Inadara said. “We need to find that Oathgate.”
Shallan wiped a stray drop of water—fallen from Lyn’s coat—off her map, then continued drawing. The army’s path from the warcamps inward had allowed her to extrapolate and draw eight chains of plateaus, two each—mirrored—starting from the four “sides” of the Plains and working inward.
She had almost completed the last of the eight arms reaching toward the center. This close, earlier scout reports—and what Shallan had seen herself—allowed her to fill in everything around the center. Rlain’s explanations had helped, but he hadn’t been able to draw out the center plateaus for her. He’d never paid attention to their shapes, and Shallan needed precision.
Fortunately, earlier reports had almost been enough. She didn’t need much more. She was almost done.
“What do you think?” Lyn asked.
“Show it to Brightness Shallan.” Inadara sounded displeased, which seemed her normal state.
Shallan glanced over Lyn’s hastily sketched map, then nodded, turning back to her drawing. It would be better if she could see the center plateau herself, but the corner this woman had drawn gave Shallan an idea.
“Not going to say anything?” Inadara asked.
“Not done yet,” Shallan said, dipping her pen in the ink.
“We have been given an order by the highprince himself to find the Oathgate.”
“I will.”
Something crashed outside, like distant lightning.
“Mmm . . .” Pattern said. “Bad. Very bad.”
Inadara looked at Pattern, who dimpled the floor near Shallan. “I do not like this thing. Spren should not speak. It may be of them, a Voidbringer.”
“I am not a Voidspren,” Pattern said.
“Brightness Shallan—”
“He’s not a Voidspren,” Shallan said absently.
“We should study it,” Inadara said. “How long did you say it has been following you?”
A heavy footstep sounded on the floor, Renarin stepping forward. Shallan would have preferred to keep Pattern secret, but when the winds had started picking up, he’d started buzzing loudly. There was no avoiding it now that he’d drawn the scholars’ attention. Renarin leaned down. He seemed fascinated by Pattern.
He wasn’t the only one. “It is likely involved,” Inadara said. “You should not dismiss one of my theories so quickly. I still think it might be related to the Voidbringers.”
“Know you nothing of Patterns, old human?” Pattern said, huffing. When had he picked up how to huff? “Voidbringers have no pattern. Besides, I have read of them in your lore. They speak of spindly arms like bone, and horrific faces. I should think, if you wish to find one, the mirror might be a location where you can begin your search.”
Inadara recoiled. Then she stomped away, moving to chat with Brightness Velat and the ardent Isasik about their interpretation of Shallan’s map.
Shallan smiled as she drew. “That was clever.”
“I am trying to learn,” Pattern replied. “Insults in particular will be of great use to my people, as they are truths and lies combined in a quite interesting manner.”
The pops continued outside. “What is that?” she asked softly, finishing another plateau.
“Stormspren,” Pattern said. “They are a variety of Voidspren. It is not good. I feel something very dangerous brewing. Draw more quickly.”
“The Oathgate must be in that center plateau somewhere,” Inadara said to her group of scholars.
“We will never search the entire thing in time,” said one of the ardents, a man who seemed to be constantly removing his spectacles and wiping them down. He put them back on. “That plateau is by far the largest we’ve found on the Plains.”
It was a problem. How to find the Oathgate? It could be anywhere. No, Shallan thought, drawing with precise motions, the old maps placed what Jasnah thought was the Oathgate southwest of the city center. Unfortunately, she still didn’t have a scale for reference. The city was too ancient, and all the maps were copies of copies of copies or re-creations from descriptions. She was certain by now that Stormseat hadn’t made up the entire Shattered Plains—the city hadn’t been nearly so huge. Structures like the warcamps had been outbuildings, or satellite cities.
But that was just a guess. She needed something concrete. Some sign.
The tent flaps opened again. It had grown cold outside. Was the rain harder than it had been?
“Damnation!” the newcomer swore, a thin man in a scout’s uniform. “Have you seen what is happening out there? Why are we split across the plateaus? Wasn’t the plan to fight a defensive battle?”
“Your report?” Inadara asked.
“Get me a towel and some paper,” the scout said. “I rounded the southern side of the central plateau. I’ll draw what I saw