(title hidden — not yet read)

(summary hidden — not yet read)

Three topaz spheres glowing softly in his cupped hand by the light of a single lamp, Kaladin sits with Lopen in the back corner of the Bridge Four barrack after the others have turned in, and refines the armor side of the escape plan. The trouble has always been the same. They will need leather armor for the night break-out — at least for the front rank — and the camp quartermaster does not issue armor to bridgemen, and the patrols around the supply yards will notice a stranger eyeing the racks.

Lopen will be the one to take it. Herdazian, bridgeman, one-armed, and cheerful past the point of suspicion, he is invisible to the camp guards in a way that none of the rest of them are; a one-armed man pulling a bundle is a man hauling salvage, not a thief lifting equipment. He will pick a bundle of leather armor off the supply rack during the day before a particular plateau run, the same one Kaladin has been quietly steering the crew toward, and hide it in the chasm bottom where the crew can grab it at the staging point. He will hand it to Kaladin just before the bridge goes down, when the assault is loud enough to cover the strangeness.

*They aren't going to like you going into a bridge run armored, gancho*, Lopen says, in the same cheerful conversational tone he uses for everything. *We'll see*, Kaladin says. He pockets the spheres. The plan firms by one more notch. The crew has its bow, its rope, its armor, its route. They will need one more good plateau and one more clear night. After that, they will be free of Sadeas or they will be dead, and either way they will be done with the lumberyard.