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Shallan sits in a back row of the tower's top-level auditorium with her feet up, sketching, while at the front Dalinar stands in the glowing illusion-map she and he can produce together and talks coalition strategy with the highprinces, their wives and scribes, Taravangian, Renarin, Adolin, and Bridge Four. Radiant would be down there engaged in the politics of the world; Shallan is upstairs because the light from the windows is good and she is tired of feeling watched in the lower corridors.

Pattern confirms her latest sketch — the slot-shape mashed with bulging inhuman eyes — looks correct, and that the thing is of *him*, of Odium, ancient and from long ago. Shallan catalogs it in her head as *an ancient spren of Odium: delightful* and flips to a new page. Below, Brightness Kalami reads off Dalinar's last report on the enemy gathering in southern Marat; Dalinar argues the Voidbringers' real play is for the Oathgates and that the southern force is meant for Azir or Jah Keved. Aladar backs his read. Ruthar jabs at Aladar across the room hard enough that he half-summons a Blade before Dalinar stops it.

Shallan sketches Sadeas without a Memory — she never wanted him in her collection — then Brightlord Perel as he might have looked unmarked, then the two strangled women, then the two stabbed Horneaters. The match snaps into focus. *That spren is mimicking the violence,* she writes. Same method, same kind of victim, days later. A short black-haired Thaylen-dressed Malata strolls up, asks in Veden what Shallan is drawing, and explains she is not Taravangian's — she came with him only because *Spark suggested* the two of them look to Urithiru once it was rediscovered. They are *four* Radiants now, she says, eyeing Renarin. *Five,* Shallan corrects, remembering the flying bridgeman. Malata is unbothered. *Things don't have to be the way they were. We have only the word of a few stuffy Alethi about this entire Desolation business, eh sister?* — and a wink. Pattern mutters that she is a Dustbringer: *her spren like to break what is around them. They want to know what is inside.*

The room hushes. Ialai Sadeas is carried in on a palanquin with Meridas Amaram at her shoulder. Adolin stands up and walks into the illusory map, breaking its surface into ripples, glaring murder; Dalinar's hand on his shoulder is what holds him back. Ialai is not here for plans. With Sadeas's nephew judged too young, she has named Amaram regent and heir to the house title — *for all intents, Highprince Sadeas now* — and asks the king to ratify it. Navani confirms with folded arms that it is legal; Elhokar rouses from his chair and ratifies. Amaram hopes their *recent friction* can be set aside until Roshar is saved, and offers himself for trial after. *Highprince,* Dalinar says across the map. *Highprince,* Amaram returns. *Bastard,* Adolin adds, and is sent out to walk it off. Shallan grabs her shoes and follows.

On the lift down, Adolin confides that he had once looked up to Amaram as the *true soldier* above pettiness, that part of him still wanted that man to exist. Shallan admits she believes Amaram killed her brother Helaran: she recognized the Blade in his hand. Adolin stops short. *You know where Amaram got that, right? From Kaladin.* The bridgeboy had saved Amaram's life by killing the Shardbearer himself, Amaram had murdered the squad and taken the Shards, and that was the entire reason the two men hate each other. Shallan's throat tightens. So Kaladin killed Helaran. *Yeah,* she says, numb. *Huh.* She tucks it away to not think about and gets off the lift early to avoid talking about it any longer.

Walking the dimmer second-level corridors alone, she flips through her sketchbook to look at the dead men again, and finds a page she does not remember drawing — twisting maddening unconnected lines. Pattern cannot remember her drawing it either. The next page: horses' heads with flesh ripping off, eyes wide, mouths screaming. The next: solid black, a spiral motion in toward a center, a deep void at the end. *What is happening to me?* Pattern asks if they should run, *out of this place.* She refuses. The secrets are too compelling.

She changes course mid-corridor and goes to Sebarial's barracks. She bursts in on Vathah's platoon mid-card game and accidentally on Gaz on the chamber pot. They climb to their feet, Shob saluting from the bunk — still dying. Shallan tells them she has been an awful employer; the free ride is over; she has work for them. *Dangerous,* she warns, then smiles. *And it will probably involve you getting a little drunk.*