The deaths of both Devotion and Dominion trouble me greatly, as I had not realized this immense power we held was something that could be broken in such a way. On my world, the power always gathered and sought a new Vessel.

The fourth day of the trip, Shallan was truly enjoying herself. The closest they’d come to danger was when they’d spotted a pair of Fused soaring past in the distance three days ago. The humans had quickly scrambled into their hiding place—the tarp stretched between two piles of goods at the rear of the barge—but they needn’t have worried. The Fused hadn’t deviated in the barge’s direction.

Other than that one event, she’d been able to spend her time in carefree drawing. Except, of course, when the Cryptics found her.

They loved to watch her draw. Currently, all four of them—Pattern, plus the three bonded to her agents—surrounded her. As a group, they hummed and buzzed and bounced up and down, watching as she tried to sketch Ua’pam standing on the high deck of the barge.

She’d grown accustomed to Pattern’s presence. She was fond of it, in fact—she enjoyed the way he’d hum when he heard something he knew was untrue, or the way he’d pipe up with questions about the most mundane of human activities. But when all four crowded around, Shallan’s serenity started building toward panic instead.

She’d almost forgotten how frightened she’d been when his strange symbol-headed figure had begun appearing in her drawings. She remembered now, though. Fleeing through the hallways of Kharbranth, her sanity unraveling as she sketched the hallway behind her, filled with Cryptics. She’d been peeking into Shadesmar. Her unconscious mind had begun to perceive spren as they appeared in the Cognitive Realm.

The same tension twisted her insides now, making her pencil lines sharp and stark. She tried to suppress the feeling. There was no reason for her to feel like she needed to run, scramble, scream.

Her lines were too dark, too rigid, to properly capture the Memory of Ua’pam standing with one foot up on the railing, looking like an explorer setting out for adventure. She tried to make herself relax, drawing a fanciful image of sunlight streaming around him. That, however, made the four Cryptics start humming in excitement.

“Could you all step back and give me more room?” Shallan asked the creatures.

They didn’t cock their heads like humans might have, but she could sense confusion in the way their patterns sped up. Then, as if one, all four took exactly one step backward. They then proceeded to lean in even closer.

Shallan sighed, and as she kept drawing, she got Ua’pam’s arm wrong. Spren were hard, because they didn’t quite have human proportions. The Cryptics started humming with excitement.

“That’s not a lie!” Shallan said, reaching for her eraser. “It’s a mistake, you nitwits.”

“Mmmm…” Ornament said. Beryl’s Cryptic had a fine pattern, delicate like lace, and a squeaky voice. “Nitwit! I am a nitwit. Mmmm.”

“A nitwit is a stupid person or spren,” Pattern explained. “But she said it in an endearing way!”

“Stupidly endearing!” Mosaic said. She was Vathah’s Cryptic, and her pattern had sharp lines to it. She often included rapid fast sections that waved like the women’s script. “Contradiction! Wonderful and blessed contradiction of nonsense and human complication to be alive!”

Motif, Ishnah’s Cryptic, simply made a bunch of clicking noises in rapid succession. His Alethi was not good, so he preferred to speak in the Cryptic language. The others began rapidly clicking to one another, and in the overlapping cacophony, she lost track of Pattern. For a moment they were all just a clump of alien creatures, huddled together with their patterns almost touching. The nearby sound of beads slapping against one another seemed the chatter of hundreds of Cryptics. Thousands of them. Watching her. Always watching her …

Radiant came to her rescue. Radiant, who had trained to ignore the chaos of battle, with its distracting sounds and constant yelling. When she took over, she brought with her a stability. She couldn’t draw, so she tucked away the pad. She excused herself from the Cryptics and made her way to the stern of the barge, where she watched the rolling beads until Shallan recovered and emerged.

“Thank you,” she said as Radiant withdrew.

Shallan listened to the peaceful rolling of the beads, endlessly surging. Perhaps it wasn’t just the Cryptics that were bothering her. And after several days on the barge spent drawing, it was time to dive into the problem of finding the spy. She took a deep breath, and submitted to Veil.

No, Veil said.

… No?

You said we could look for the spy today, Shallan said.

We are. You. With my help.

Is this, Shallan asked, penance because you broke the compact?

In a way. I want to coach you through a little espionage.

I don’t need to know it, she thought. I have you.

Humor me, kid. I need this.

Shallan sighed, but agreed. They couldn’t share skills, as evidenced by Veil’s drawing abilities. She knew espionage, Radiant could use a sword, and Shallan had their Lightweaving ability. And their sense of humor.

Oh please, Radiant thought.

“So how do we start?” Shallan asked.

We need to test each of the three subjects, Veil said, and plant a—

Wait, Radiant thought. Shouldn’t we first make absolutely certain the communication device couldn’t have been moved another way? If we’re using that as evidence that the spy is along on this mission?

Shallan ground her teeth. Veil sighed softly.

But both agreed that Radiant was, unfortunately, correct. So Shallan strolled to the large tent they’d set up on the deck of the barge, using boxes and tarps. It was more like a large cave. While they didn’t need shelter from the elements in Shadesmar, it made them feel comfortable.

Shallan ducked inside and went to the nook, made from boxes, that she shared with Adolin. She’d left the trunk unguarded—after all, she did want to catch the person doing this. She didn’t want to hover about the place and make it obvious what she knew.

For now, she unlocked the trunk and checked on the device. It hadn’t been moved again, so far as she could tell. But she didn’t trust the trunk’s lock. Tyn had been able to pick most locks—and beyond that, in the Physical Realm at least, spren could slip through openings like a keyhole. She’d seen Syl do it, not to mention Pattern.

She closed the trunk and—checking to make sure no one could see her around the corner in the box-walled nook—she tipped the trunk to one side, then the other. When she looked inside, the device had barely moved. She had it packed tightly enough between books and art materials that it couldn’t have flipped on its own.

Satisfied? she asked.

Yes, Radiant said. It couldn’t have shifted faces without being removed from the trunk.

Agreed, Veil said.

And we didn’t do it, right? Radiant asked pointedly.

It was a discomforting question. They weren’t always aware of what one of them did when another was in control. Often these days they worked together, giving up control by conscious choice, helping one another. But there were worse days. Shallan couldn’t remember all the things Veil had done during that day she’d seized control, for example.

I didn’t move it, Veil said. I promise.

I didn’t either, Radiant said.

“Nor did I,” Shallan whispered. And she knew it to be true. None of the Three had moved it, though she worried about Formless. Could part of her mind be betraying her? She didn’t think that piece was even aware, or real, yet.

It wasn’t us, Veil said. I know this, Shallan. You have to trust it.

She did. And that was what had disturbed her so much upon seeing the device moved. It was concrete proof that someone among her staff was lying to her.

All right, Veil said. I’ve gone over the places the trunk was out of our sight … and it’s not good. There were a ton of opportunities when it was alone back in Urithiru. We’re not going to get anywhere trying to discover who had access to it, particularly not from this barge.

“I still wish you’d do this part yourself,” Shallan whispered to her.

Tough. Go back out, and we’ll get started.

As she strode out, however, Pattern intercepted her. He walked up, his fingers laced before him. “Mmm…” he said. “I am sorry for earlier. For their overexcitement. The others do not have as much experience with humans.”

“They have their Radiants,” Shallan noted.

“Yes. That is not humans. That is one human each.”

“You only have me.”

“No! Before you, I studied humans. I talked about them much. I am very famous.”

“Famous?”

“Very famous.” His pattern sped up. “Cryptics do not often go into the cities of other spren. We are not liked. I went. I watched humans in Shadesmar, as we had planned to find humans to bond again. The other Cryptics were impressed by my bravery.”

“Yes, very brave,” Shallan said. “We humans are known to bite.”

“Ha ha. Yes, bite. And break your oaths and murder your spren. Ha ha.”

Shallan winced. True, those were the actions of other Radiants. Not Radiants from her generation. At least none of the noble ones, like Kaladin or Dalinar.

Nearby, in the center of the deck, the other three Cryptics were chatting with their heads together in a huddle.

“Do you think it strange,” Shallan asked, “that Cryptics would end up with the Lightweavers, the order of Radiants with the most artists? You, who cannot lie—and who are basically walking numerical equations?”

“We can lie,” Pattern said. “We are simply bad at it in general. It is not odd to end up with you. We like you in the way that a person likes new foods or new places. Besides, art is math.”

“No it’s not,” Shallan said, offended. “Art and math are basically opposites.”

“Mmm. No. All things are math. Art especially is math. You are math.”

“If so, I’m the type with a misplaced number hidden so deep in the equation, I can never find it—but always calculate out wrong.” She left Pattern then, strolling across the deck of the barge, passing several peakspren with molten light shining out through the cracks in their skin. High overhead, clouds had formed—the familiar ones of this place that pointed toward the distant sun like a roadway.

Those clouds didn’t seem to move according to ordinary weather patterns, but appeared and disappeared as the barge moved. Was it something to do with the angle at which they were being seen?

All right, Veil, she thought. What do we do?

There are several ways to uncover a spy, Veil thought. We’re in a fortunate position, since we know they communicated directly with Mraize recently—and will likely do so again. We also have three specific suspects, a manageable number.

We’re going to try two different methods of finding the spy. The first is to catch them in a lie or a past misdeed, then push them until they grow uncomfortable and admit to us more than they intended. Everyone has a guilty conscience about something.

“Radiant doesn’t,” Shallan noted.

Don’t be so sure, Veil replied. But if this method doesn’t work, we’ll try something else—something that takes longer, but is more likely to work. We will find a way to feed each suspect a different tidbit of false information: a tidbit they will in turn feed to Mraize. Depending on which piece of information is leaked, we’ll know who did the leaking, and identify our spy.

That’s quite clever, Radiant noted.

Well, it’s more standard than clever, Veil admitted. This is a time-tested method, and our biggest problem in using it is that I’m certain Mraize is aware of it. So we’re going to have to be very subtle—and it might not work, as it requires Mraize to not only be told this information, but to not be suspicious of it, and to relate it back to us.

Fortunately, we have a long trip ahead of us, and so if neither of these methods works, we can try something else. Point is, today, trying this will be good practice for Shallan.

“I don’t need practice,” she whispered. “I have you.”

But Veil was being stubborn, so Shallan wandered across the deck to where Ishnah was helping Ua’pam and Unativi—his cousin, who ran the barge—as they manifested goods.

This was how almost everything—from clothing to building supplies—was created in Shadesmar. Spren didn’t quarry stone or spin threads; they took the souls of objects from the physical world, then “manifested” them. The term referred to making the object’s bead on this side instead reflect its physical nature.

Ua’pam held up a bead, inspecting it. Shallan could sense the souls of things by touching beads, though Veil had more trouble, and Radiant couldn’t do it at all. Spren also varied in skill in this area, and true ability to manifest was somewhat rare.

Ua’pam pressed the bead against the deck, then held up a diamond chip—shining with Stormlight—in his other hand. He drew in the Light much as a Radiant would, breathing it into his lungs. She’d heard that this would invigorate spren, making them feel alert and awake—they could feed on Light, even if they didn’t need it to survive. Today, Ua’pam immediately used this Stormlight to manifest the bead.

The hand with the soul pressed against the deck began to glow, then something blossomed underneath it. He stood up as an ornate wooden table emerged beneath his hand, growing like a plant at a highly accelerated speed.

“So fine!” his cousin—Unativi—said, clapping his hands. It sounded like rocks striking one another. “We are lucky! A grand table.”

Ua’pam, shoulders slumping from exhaustion, nodded and dropped the drained sphere to the side for Ishnah to catch. Spren didn’t care much for the value of most gemstones; it was the Light that interested them. The bead that had been the table’s soul had vanished, replaced by the object. Interestingly, so far as Veil knew, the real table in the physical world would be unaffected by this process.

Shallan focused her attention on Ishnah, who was now trying to sketch the transformation process. Shallan had told the former thief to practice her art skills so she could better imitate lighteyed women.

“You are surprised by how nice this table is,” Ishnah said to Unativi. She reached out to touch the table. “You didn’t know what would be created before this moment?”

“No,” Unativi said. “Understand. I find furniture. I know it is furniture. But how nice?” The peakspren spread his hands in a display of ignorance.

“We must work more today,” Ua’pam explained. “Stormlight in gems runs out, but manifestations last long. Many months without reinfusion, if done by one with skill.” He slapped the table. “I have skill.”

“So you make as much cargo as you can,” Ishnah said, gesturing to the many chairs, tables, and other articles of furniture surrounding them, “before the Stormlight we gave you runs out. Then you can sell what you created.”

“Yes!” Unativi said. “Also, cousin will do the hard work. He is better.”

“You have skill,” Ua’pam said.

“You have more.” Unativi shook his head. “Skill I need. Instead you go chasing humans. Losing your mind. Going to fight?”

“Odium comes,” Ua’pam said, softly. “Odium will come here. We must fight.”

“We can run.”

“We cannot.”

The two stared at one another, and Shallan took some mental notes to add to her natural history. Too often humans—even some spren—regarded all spren as basically the same in personality and temperament. That was wrong. They might not be as fractured as the many nations of men, but they were not a monoculture.

Keep focused, Veil thought. The book you want to write is exciting, but we should make some progress on the spy today before getting distracted again.

Each of the three Lightweavers was suspicious in their own way, Beryl most so currently. That said, Ishnah had worked with actual thieves in the past, and she was the only agent who had come to Shallan instead of needing to be recruited. Ishnah had wiggled her way into being Shallan’s right-hand woman, and was the most skilled member of her Unseen Court.

The most damning fact was Ishnah’s previous fascination with the Ghostbloods. Thinking of her as a traitor made Shallan’s insides squirm, but she forced herself to confront the problem, Radiant cheering her on.

Shallan joined Ishnah as the two peakspren returned to their work. “You look overwhelmed,” Shallan noted to Ishnah. “Are you well?”

“I’ve seen into this place, Brightness.…” Ishnah closed her notebook and looked across the rolling beads. “When I Soulcast, it’s there. I see the souls of objects, hear their thoughts. I’ve dreamed of this world, but being here is different. Do you ever … feel something? Below, in the ocean?”

“Yes,” Shallan admitted. She leaned against the railing. Ishnah mimicked her posture.

Now, Veil said. Try steering the conversation in a way that implies you know something secret, something she should be ashamed about.

Steering conversations was, fortunately, comfortable for Shallan. She was good with words. Better than Veil in many cases.

“There are currents to this world, Ishnah,” Shallan said. “They move unseen. They can tow you under suddenly, abruptly, when you thought you were swimming along perfectly safe.”

“I’m … not sure what you mean by that, Brightness.”

“I think you do.”

Ishnah immediately glanced away.

Aha! Veil thought. We’re on to something already.

Too easy, Radiant thought. Don’t judge so quickly.

“We all lie, Ishnah,” Shallan continued. “Especially to ourselves. It’s part of what makes us Lightweavers. The purpose of the Ideals, however, is to make us learn to live for truth. We have to be something better, become something better, to be worthy of our spren.”

Ishnah didn’t respond, instead staring at the ocean beads passing beneath.

Give it time, Veil suggested. Don’t be in a rush to fill the silence.

Shallan obeyed, and the silence quickly became uncomfortable. She could see Ishnah shifting, not meeting her eyes. Yes, she felt guilty about something.

Now, push.

“Say it, Ishnah,” Shallan said. “It’s time to tell me.”

“I … I didn’t know what they’d do with the money, Brightness,” Ishnah finally said. “I didn’t mean for it … I mean, I was only trying to help.”

Money? Radiant thought.

Drat, Veil thought. We caught the wrong fish.

Shallan gave the conversation even more uncomfortable silence. People hated it, and would often do anything to banish it.

“How did you know?” Ishnah asked.

“I have my ways.”

“I should have guessed I couldn’t keep it quiet,” Ishnah said. She seemed younger all of a sudden, fidgeting as she spoke. She was older than Shallan, but not by that much. Old enough to be seen as a full adult. Young enough to not believe it yet.

“My old friends in the underground came to me,” Ishnah said. “They were hard up, you know? We acted so tough, but that’s the way you have to act. Pretend you’re important, pretend you’re dangerous, all while you’re actually scraping crem to get by.

“So, I started giving them some of my stipend, ostensibly to help them pull themselves up and out of that life.” She put her hand to her forehead. “Stormfather, I’m an idiot. Even I can hear how naive that sounds, saying it out loud. I should have known they just saw an opportunity in me. Everyone’s a mark. ‘Ishnah got a good break, eh? What about the rest of us?’ Of course they’d use it to set up another racket.”

I feel embarrassed, Veil thought. How did I miss hearing about this?

“Well,” Shallan said out loud, “I’m glad to hear that you aren’t intentionally funding a criminal enterprise.”

“Maybe we can clean it up quietly? It’s not as bad as you might have heard. Or … well, I guess I’m not a good one to judge that. They bought up some gambling dens, started a protection scheme in one of the lower-end markets. My money bought them some enforcers, and … I know they started using my name as proof they had authority.” She sighed. “How much does the queen know?”

“I’m honestly not sure,” Shallan said. “I haven’t told her.”

“If it means anything, I cut them off last month, once I learned what they were doing.”

Let’s push a little harder, Veil decided. Mention Mraize, imply he was involved. See if she lets anything slip.

“When did Mraize get involved?” Shallan asked.

Ishnah cocked her head, scrunching up her brow. “Who?”

“The Ghostbloods, Ishnah.”

The shorter woman grew pale, and her hand genuinely seemed to be trembling as she put it back on the railing. “Stormfather! Did I … Did they…”

“They’ve contacted you, I know.”

“If they have, I didn’t know it was them!” Ishnah said, shaken. She slumped against the railing. “What happened? Was it that man that Den threatened? Was he … Storms, Brightness. I’ve made a mess of this.”

Shallan remained in place, hands clasped, trying to determine if it was an act. She couldn’t persuade herself that it was; Ishnah appeared legitimately shocked by the implication that the Ghostbloods might have noticed her friends’ little scheme. She even caught sight of a shamespren, swimming through the beads toward them. Those were rare out here, as they were passing mountains in the Physical Realm, where no one lived.

If she’s lying, she’s good enough to fool me, Veil said.

“I thought I’d escaped the underworld,” Ishnah whispered. “I came to you, thinking you were someone powerful. Power was all I wanted … but then I saw something more. A way to be free. Everyone else lives such normal lives out in the light. No threads yanking toward the darkness. They seem happy. I suppose it was too much to assume I’d be able to really get away and belong in the light.…”

Storms. Shallan settled down and put her freehand on Ishnah’s shoulder, ashamed at having caused such pain in her friend.

That is a silly emotion, Veil thought. If Ishnah wants out, we’ve done her a favor by exposing this.

And how would we feel? Shallan asked. If someone forced us to expose all our flaws, all our lies, and hung them in the open like an unfinished painting?

“We’ll deal with this when we return, Ishnah,” Shallan said. “And I promise, I will help you clear it up. You’ve made a misstep, but we all make those as we seek our truths. You do belong in the light. You’re there now. Stay there with me.”

“I will,” Ishnah said.

“For now, if you hear any mention of the Ghostbloods, come directly to me.”

“Of course, Brightness. Thank you. For not giving up on me completely, I mean.”

Well done, Veil thought. Let’s slip in a tidbit that might get fed to Mraize, if she reports to him.

I sincerely doubt she’s the spy, Veil, Radiant said. You yourself indicated she couldn’t fool you.

I didn’t indicate that at all, Veil said. I said if she’s the spy, she’s a better actor than I am. Which would make her extremely dangerous. Shallan, find some bit of information to feed her that is distinct and interesting enough to be worth reporting, but something she’s unlikely to talk about to the other members of the team.

That felt like a tall order. But Veil wasn’t willing to offer any more advice, so Shallan soldiered forward.

“Hey,” she said to Ishnah. “Just focus on helping with the mission. I like that you’re taking notes on manifesting. Those will be useful.”

She nodded. “Is there anything else you want me to do?”

Shallan considered it, tapping her finger against the deck. “Keep your eyes open for spren that look odd,” she said softly. “You remember Sja-anat?”

“Yes,” Ishnah said. Shallan had shared about the Unmade with her and a few others.

“I think I saw a corrupted windspren flying past earlier. I can’t be certain, so keep it to yourself. I don’t want to alarm anyone. But if you’re going to be sitting back here watching the manifesting, maybe keep an eye out? And if you see an odd spren, let me know. All right?”

“I will. Thank you, Brightness. For your trust.”

Shallan squeezed Ishnah’s arm encouragingly, then wandered away. How was that? she asked.

Not bad, Veil said. Your warning will keep her from talking about it to the other Lightweavers—but corrupted spren are also something Mraize is distinctly interested in. So if she reports to him, she is likely to feed him the information. If you can find a way to tell the others you saw a different kind of corrupted spren, we’ll have planted just the right seed.

I don’t think it’s going to work, Radiant said. The idea is a clever one, but I can’t see her reporting on such a minor detail to Mraize.

You’d be surprised, Veil replied. People are always eager to prove how important their mission is, and actively search for interesting things to report. Keep going, Shallan. You’re doing very well.

Feeling bolstered, she went to find Beryl. After the previous conversation, Ishnah now seemed the least likely to be the spy. And, Ishnah had been helpful in identifying Ialai’s method of death. Besides, Mraize would know she had wanted to join the Ghostbloods—and would recognize that she’d draw suspicion.

It was probably one of the other two. And Beryl was the obvious choice. Shallan hadn’t failed to notice the way Stargyle had dropped out of the mission at the last minute, with Beryl joining the team instead—a clear sign. But perhaps too obvious?

Beryl was on Soulcasting duty today. Yesterday they’d stopped by a small strip of land—representing a river in the Physical Realm—and used pickaxes to cut out some chunks of obsidian ground. Shallan had quickly understood why the spren of this realm didn’t use obsidian for anything other than the occasional weapon; the rock was hard to work with, shattering like glass when struck.

While it wouldn’t make a good building material, they’d had success Soulcasting it into food. The stone here was eager to be something else, and could easily be persuaded to change. Today, Beryl knelt beside a stone they’d cut, and was practicing turning it into food.

Shallan lingered nearby, taking in Beryl’s tall Alethi figure, with luscious dark hair and a perfectly tan skin tone. She reminded Veil of Jasnah, only more relaxed.

She uses Lightweaving to enhance her appearance, Veil noted. Probably does it by instinct.

Today, Beryl wore a long skirt rather than a true havah, along with a sleeveless top and a pair of silk gloves that went up to her elbows. She had removed her freehand glove, and now reached out with delicate, supple fingers to caress the chunk of obsidian. She adopted an expression of concentration, and the chunk transformed to lavis grain in the blink of an eye. The clump of lavis held the shape of the obsidian for a moment, then collapsed, spreading out on the cloth underneath.

“Brightness?” Beryl asked, glancing up from her work. She was darkeyed, like many camp followers, though that didn’t really matter anymore. Importantly, she had not yet earned her Blade. “Am I doing something wrong?”

Beryl had learned Lightweaving on her own away from the structure and order of the Radiants. She was an unknown factor, a Surgebinding savant who had come with her own spren already bonded.

Shallan knelt and made a show of picking up a handful of grain and inspecting it. “You’re not doing anything wrong at all. This is good work. Most of us have trouble making individual grains.”

“Oh! It helps to have a seed,” she said, pulling some from her pocket. “Literal seeds, in this case.” She grinned, holding them up. “If you have something to show the obsidian’s soul, you intrigue it enough to want to transform.”

“That’s not how Jasnah does it,” Veil said.

“Yeah, Vathah told me. But my way works better for him too. Queen Jasnah doesn’t know everything, right?” She smiled brightly. “Or maybe it’s different for our order. It’s not her fault if she doesn’t know how Lightweavers work.”

Storms, Veil thought. I always forget how downright sunny Beryl can be.

Shallan folded her arms, thinking back to her own troubles with Soulcasting. Could it be that all along, the problem hadn’t been her, but Jasnah’s training method? They’d assumed two orders using the same power would be analogous. The Skybreakers and the Windrunners seemed to fly the same way, after all.

Then again, the way that Lightweaving worked for Truthwatchers seemed different—even if one disregarded whatever Renarin was. So maybe?

Focus, Veil thought. Try nudging her to be uncomfortable, find out if she’s hiding something.

Shallan opened her mouth to make a comment like she had to Ishnah. Something else entirely came out.

“Are you actually happy?” Shallan asked.

“Brightness?” Beryl asked, still sitting on a box next to some chunks of obsidian. “Happy?”

“There’s a lightness about you,” Shallan said. “Is it real, or are you hiding the pain?”

“I think we all hide pain to an extent,” Beryl said. “But I don’t think I’m in particular agony.”

“And your past?” Shallan asked. “It doesn’t haunt you?”

“I won’t pretend my life was easy. The profession isn’t an easy one, and the women who find their way to it often have their problems magnified. There are ways to keep it from chewing you up, however. To make it your choice, done in your way.” She grimaced. “Or at least ways to tell yourself that…”

Shallan nodded, and heard a humming behind her. Pattern—her Pattern—had wandered over, and was inspecting Beryl’s Soulcasting handiwork.

“By the end,” Beryl continued, “I had a lot of control over the men who came to me. I liked becoming the woman they wanted. It wasn’t until you came searching for me, though, that I realized the truth.” She looked straight at Shallan. “That I could walk away if I wanted to. Nothing was keeping me there. Not any longer. I could have left months earlier. Odd, isn’t it?”

“That’s how it always is,” Veil said.

“Pardon, Brightness, but it’s not. A lot of the women are worse off than me. They couldn’t simply leave; it was the moss for some, threats for others. Some of us though…” She looked at her hand and let the seeds drop into the pile. “We talk about transformation. The Almighty’s greatest blessing to humans: the ability to change. Sometimes we need a seed too, eh?”

Shallan shuffled, looking to the side as Vathah walked by with one of the peakspren sailors. Maybe she should go talk to him, see if he was the spy.

You’re uncomfortable around Beryl, Radiant thought. Is it because she seems to have a greater handle on her life, when you assume she should be worse at it?

Feelings, feelings, Veil said. Blah blah blah. Shallan, stay on topic, please.

Shallan found her mind spiraling around her past. The things she had done. The things she was still hiding from, wearing this face that she pretended was her own. That she pretended she deserved. Shallan could be happy, but that happiness was built on lies.

Would it not be better to accept what she really was? Become the person she deserved to be? Formless—who had been hiding deep inside these last few days—stirred. She’d thought him forgotten, but he had been waiting. Watching …

“Help,” Shallan whispered.

“Brightness?” Beryl asked.

Radiant stood up straight, no longer lounging. “You are to be commended for your diligence, Beryl. You say that this method of Soulcasting has helped Vathah. Have you shown it to any of the others yet?”

“No, not yet. I—”

“I would like you to approach Ishnah and train her in it. Report to me the results of the experiment.”

“I will!” Beryl said. “Um, you seem different. Did you … become one of the others?”

“I have merely realized I have a great deal yet to do today,” Radiant said. That caused Pattern to hum. “Continue your efforts.”

She moved to leave, then pretended to reconsider and stepped back, speaking softly. “We need to be careful. I saw a gloryspren earlier that appeared odd. I think that Sja-anat, the corrupter of spren, is watching us. Report to me if you see any odd gloryspren, but stay very quiet about this to the others. I do not wish to inspire a panic.”

Beryl nodded.

That’s a little straightforward and blunt, Radiant, Veil said. The goal is to not act suspicious.

I do as I can, Radiant thought. And I am not suited to subterfuge.

Liar, Veil said. Shallan? Kid, you all right?

But Shallan had pulled into a knot within Radiant.

It was the conversation that set her off … Veil said. Something about it. About leaving your old life, and finding a new one?

Shallan whimpered.

I see … Veil said, retreating as well.

Great. She’d lost both of them. Well, Radiant’s job was to see that things got done. She walked after Vathah; Pattern stayed behind with Beryl, watching her work.

Vathah was carrying a large pole that was at least thirty feet long. What was he up to? Regardless, in Radiant’s estimation, Vathah was suspicious in an entirely different way from the other two. Vathah had always been the most dark of the former deserters. And she understood why. Following something, believing in something, then abandoning it? Leaving your companions-in-arms? It was a horrifying thought.

She usually let the others deal with him. A lot of the other deserters she’d come to understand. Gaz had run from gambling debts, and Isom from a cruel captain in Sadeas’s army who constantly beat him.

But Vathah … his true past was still a mystery. He was cruel and possibly corrupt; he had returned with Shallan only because the circumstances had been right. Shallan liked to think she’d changed the deserters—shown them the nobler side of their personalities.

While she might be correct about the others, Radiant wasn’t certain about Vathah. If he had deserted once, he was capable of it again. And storms, he didn’t look at all like he belonged with the rest of the Court. Even cleaned up and wearing work clothing, Vathah looked rough. Like he’d recently gotten out of bed—after collapsing into it drunk. He was never properly shaved, but also never ended up with a full beard.

Vathah climbed the few steps up to the prow of the barge, the section where the mandras were harnessed. Radiant marched up after him. A female peakspren sailor instructed Vathah to heft the long pole so that the tip went high in the air and the bottom end slipped through a ring at the front of the barge. Once he’d done so, Vathah began lowering the pole slowly, hand over hand. The butt of the pole passed between the mandra harness lines to hit the beads beneath.

They’re measuring depth, Radiant thought. He’s doing sailor jobs, like yesterday. Strange.

“Hold it steady,” the peakspren said to Vathah. “Brace it against the prow of the barge. Yes. Keep going.”

Vathah continued lowering the pole. The current of the beads below was clearly stronger than a current of water would be, and it pressed the pole backward. The rings on the front of the ship were there to keep the force of the beads from pulling the pole out of his hands.

“Keep going,” the peakspren said. “Slower though!”

Vathah grunted, continuing to lower the depth gauge. “They use weighted strings in my world.”

“Wouldn’t work here.”

“I just bumped something,” he said. “Yeah, that’s the bottom. Huh. Not as far down as I thought it would be.”

“We’ve entered the shallows,” the peakspren said, helping him raise the pole. “Skirting to the west of the great trench we call the Radiant Depths.”

Vathah got the pole up and walked to stow it along the railing. Then the spren tossed him a brush. Vathah nodded and walked toward the water station. The metal device fed on Stormlight to somehow make water.

“What is this task?” Radiant asked, following after him.

“Deck needs to be scrubbed,” he said. “They don’t wash them here as often as they do on ships back home—guess they don’t need to, without ocean water spilling up on everything. Planks don’t need tar to keep them waterproof either.”

“You were a sailor?” Radiant asked, surprised.

“I’ve done a lot of jobs.” He filled up a bucket, then picked a section of the deck and went to work, kneeling and scrubbing at the wood.

“I’m impressed,” Radiant said. “I had not thought you would be one to volunteer for work, Vathah.”

“It needs to be done.”

“It is good to work the body, but I find myself objecting to that statement. The peakspren seem to have continued for a while without the deck being washed.” She folded her arms, then shrugged and moved to get a brush herself.

As she returned, Vathah glanced at her with a dark expression. “Did you simply come to taunt me, Radiant? Or is there a point?”

“I suppose it’s easy to tell me apart from the others, isn’t it?”

“Veil would never have decided to help,” he said, continuing to brush. “She’d have mocked me for doing extra work. Shallan would be off somewhere drawing or reading. So, here we are.”

“Indeed,” Radiant said, kneeling and scrubbing alongside him. “You are an observant man, Vathah.”

“Observant enough to know you want something from me. What is it?”

“I’m merely curious,” she said. “The Vathah I know would have avoided work and found a place to relax.”

“Relaxing isn’t relaxing,” he said. “Sit around too much, and you start sitting around even more.” He kept brushing. “Go across the planks, rather than up and down them, so you don’t wear grooves. Yeah, like that. This does need to be done. The sailors used to scrub the wood every month, but they haven’t had as much help lately. Something about Reachers not being around? What are Reachers, anyway?”

“They’re a specific bronze-skinned kind of spren,” Radiant said. “They were sailors on our previous voyage.”

“Well, they aren’t around as much to hire these days, I guess,” Vathah said.

“Did the others say why?”

“I didn’t ask,” Vathah said.

“How odd,” Radiant said. Now, how could she get to the topic of a corrupted spren? She considered, and began to regard this as a silly exercise. Why not ask him if he was the spy. If she was firm enough, he’d admit to his wrongdoing.

She opened her mouth to do just that, but had enough common sense to stop herself. This was … not a good idea, was it? Having her do espionage?

No, Shallan thought, emerging with a sigh. I guess it isn’t.

“Hey,” Shallan said to Vathah as they scrubbed. “You know we’re a family, right? The Court, the group of us? You don’t have to always go off alone and punish yourself.”

“Not punishing myself,” he growled. “Just wanted to be busy. And away from questions. Everyone asks too many questions when they get bored.”

“You don’t have to answer them,” she said. “Really, Vathah. You’re one of us, and we accept you. As you are.”

He glanced at her, then sat back on his knees, dripping brush in hand. Shallan did likewise, noting that she’d scuffed her trousers. Radiant was always too eager to throw herself into labor, never worrying about her clothing.

“Shallan,” he said.

She nodded.

Vathah returned to his work and didn’t speak as he continued to scrub. Unlike Ishnah, he was perfectly willing to let silence hang. It was harder for Shallan, but she did. For a time the only sound was that of bristles on wood.

“Does it work?” Vathah finally asked. “These three faces you put on? Does it actually help you somehow?”

“It does,” Shallan said. “It really does. Most of the time, at least.”

“Can’t decide if I envy you or not,” Vathah replied. “I’d like to be able to pretend. Something broke in me, you know? A long time ago. Used to be a good soldier. Used to care. But then you see what you’ve done—legitimately see it—and realize everything you fought for was a sham. What do polished buttons matter when you’ve got a child’s blood on your boots?” He scrubbed harder at a spot on the deck. “Figure if I learn to Lightweave well enough, maybe I’ll turn into someone else…”

That stabbed her straight through.

Strength, Shallan, Radiant thought. Strength before weakness.

“Wouldn’t that be a blessing?” Vathah continued. “To become someone else? Someone new?”

“You can do that without Lightweaving,” Shallan said.

“Can I?” Vathah asked. “Can you?”

“I…”

“We’ve got a blessing in this power,” he continued. “Lets us turn into other people.”

“It’s not a blessing,” Shallan whispered. “It’s survival.”

“Feels worse in this place,” Vathah said, eyeing the sky. “I always feel like something is watching me.”

“Yeah,” Shallan said. “The other day, I caught a spren swimming alongside the boat, watching me. One of those fearspren, the long eel-like ones on this side.”

“What color was it?” Vathah asked. “Was it … hers?”

“Yeah,” Shallan whispered. “I didn’t tell the others. Didn’t want them worried.”

“Smart,” Vathah said. “Well, Sja-anat is something else for me to worry about. I’ll have to double-check every storming spren now.”

“Let me know if you see anything,” Shallan said. “But don’t trouble the others, not yet. Not until we know for certain what she wants.”

Vathah nodded.

Nice work, Veil thought at her, emerging from her contemplation. That was smooth, Shallan. We’ll think of ways to push him for secrets he might be hiding later. For now, this was a good day’s work.

I hate that I’m back to acting like an apprentice, Shallan thought back. You learned all this from Tyn. Why do we need to learn it again?

We learned it, Veil thought, but we never tried it out. Remember, we … are new to this, despite what we might … might pretend.

It was hard for Veil to acknowledge that she didn’t actually have years of experience. Hard for her to admit that she was an alter—a part of Shallan’s personality, manifesting as a distinct person. But it was a good reminder. One that Radiant often brought up. They were learning, and they weren’t experts. Not yet.

Still, Shallan did know a few things about people. Though Veil wanted to move on, Shallan knelt beside Vathah. “Hey,” she said. “Whatever you did, it’s behind you. We accept you, Vathah. The Unseen Court is a family.”

“A family,” he said with a grunt. “Never had one of those before.”

“I knew it,” she said softly.

“What? That I was lonely?”

“No,” she said solemnly, “that you were the child of a couple of particularly ugly rocks.”

He glared at her.

“You know,” she said, “since you have no family. Must be rocks. It makes sense.”

“Really? We were having a moment.”

She smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Vathah. I appreciate your sediment.” She got up to go.

“Hey,” Vathah said as she walked away.

She glanced back at him.

“Thanks for smiling.”

She nodded before continuing on her way.

What you said applies to us too, Radiant thought. That what we did in the past doesn’t matter.

I suppose, Shallan thought.

You don’t mean that, Veil accused her. You think what you did was worse. You’re always willing to give others more charity than you extend yourself.

Shallan didn’t respond.

I’m figuring it out, Shallan, Veil said. Why you keep working with Mraize. Why you won’t tell Adolin. What this is all about. It has to do with what you said earlier. When—

“Not now,” Shallan said.

But—

In response, Shallan retreated and Radiant found herself in control. And no amount of prodding would bring Shallan back.