. . . but Damnation! They’re throwing lightning, Brightness. Throwing it! It’s insane. How do we fight such things?”
Shallan finished the last plateau on her drawing. She settled back on her heels, lowering her pen. The Shattered Plains, drawn almost in their entirety. But what was she doing? What was the point?
“We will make an expedition into the central plateau,” Inadara said. “Brightlord Renarin, we will need your protection. Perhaps in the Parshendi city we will find the elderly or the workers, and we can protect them, as Brightlord Dalinar has instructed. They might know about the Oathgate. If not, we can begin breaking into buildings and searching for clues.”
Too slow, Shallan thought.
The newly arrived scout stepped up to Shallan’s large map. He leaned over, inspecting it as he dried himself off with a towel. Shallan gave him a glare. If he dripped water on this after all she’d done . . .
“That’s wrong,” he said.
Wrong? Her art? Of course it wasn’t wrong. “Where?” she asked, exhausted.
“That plateau there,” the man said, pointing. “It’s not long and thin, as you drew it. It’s a perfect circle, with big gaps between it and the plateaus on its east and west.”
“That’s unlikely,” Shallan said. “If it were that way—” She blinked.
If it were that way, it wouldn’t match the pattern.
* * *
“Well then, find Brightness Shallan a squad of soldiers and do as she says!” Dalinar said, turning and raising his arm against the wind.
Renarin nodded. Blessedly, he’d agreed to put on his Plate for the battle, rather than continuing on with Bridge Four. Dalinar barely understood the lad these days. . . . Storms. Dalinar had never known a man who could look awkward in Shardplate, but his son managed it. The sheet of wind-driven rain passed. Light from blue lanterns reflected from Renarin’s wet armor.
“Go,” Dalinar said. “Protect the scholars on their mission.”
“I . . .” Renarin said. “Father, I don’t know . . .”
“It wasn’t a request, Renarin!” Dalinar shouted. “Do as you’re told, or give that storming Plate to someone who will!”
The boy stumbled back, then saluted with a metallic slap. Dalinar pointed at Gaval, who barked orders, gathering a squad of soldiers. Renarin followed Gaval as the two of them moved off.
Stormfather. The sky had grown darker and darker. They’d need Navani’s fabrials soon. That wind came in bursts, blowing rain that was entirely too strong for the Weeping. “We have to interrupt that singing!” Dalinar shouted against the rain, making his way to the edge of the plateau, joined by officers and messengers, including Rlain and several members of Bridge Four. “Parshman. Is this storm their doing?”
“I believe so, Brightlord Dalinar!”
On the other side of the chasm, Aladar’s army fought a desperate battle against the Parshendi. Red lightning came in bursts, but according to field reports, the Parshendi didn’t know how to control it. It could be very dangerous to those who stood close by, but was not the terrible weapon it had first seemed.
In direct combat, unfortunately, these new Parshendi were another thing entirely. A group of them prowled close to the chasm, where they ripped through a squad of spearmen like a whitespine through a patch of ferns. They fought with a ferocity beyond what the Parshendi had ever shown on the plateau runs, and their weapons connected with flashes of red.
It was difficult to watch, but Dalinar’s place was not out there fighting. Not today.
“Aladar’s eastern flank needs reinforcement,” Dalinar said. “What do we have?”
“Light infantry reserves,” General Khal said, wearing only his uniform. His son wore his Shards, fighting with Roion’s army. “Fifteenth spear division from Sebarial’s army. But those were supposed to support Brightlord Adolin. . . .”
“He’ll survive without them. Get those men over here and see Aladar reinforced. Tell him to punch through to those Parshendi in the back, engage the ones singing at all costs. What’s Navani’s status?”
“She is ready with the devices, Brightlord,” a messenger said. “She wants to know where she should begin.”
“Roion’s flank,” Dalinar said immediately. He sensed a disaster brewing there. Speeches were all well and good, but even with Khal’s son fighting on that front, Roion’s troops were the worst he had. Teleb was supporting them with some of Sebarial’s troops, who were surprisingly good. The man himself was practically useless in a battle, but he knew how to hire the right people—and that had always been his genius. Sebarial probably assumed that Dalinar didn’t know that.
He’d kept many of Sebarial’s troops as