Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“You know, orphans.” Shob scratched his head. “There’s orphans, right? Somewhere? Orphans that need food? Give them mine after I die.”

“Shob,” Vathah said, “with the way justice plays out in this world, I can guarantee you’ll outlive the rest of us.”

“Ah, that’s nice,” Shob said. “Right nice, Sarge.”

The game progressed only a few rounds before Shob started flipping over his tiles.

“Already!” Gaz said. “Shob, you cremling. Don’t do it yet! I don’t even have two lines!”

“Too late,” Shob said.

Red and Gaz reluctantly started flipping their tiles.

“Sadeas,” Shallan said absently. “Bethab, Ruthar, Roion, Thanadal, Kholin, Sebarial, Vamah, Hatham. With Aladar as the seed.”

Vathah gaped at her, then flipped the tiles over, revealing them exactly as she’d said. “And you didn’t even get any peeks … Storms, woman. Remind me never to play pieces with you.”

“My brothers always said the same thing,” she said as he split the pot with Shob, who had gotten them all right but three.

“Another hand?” Gaz asked.

Everyone looked at his bowl of spheres, which was almost empty.

“I can get a loan,” he said quickly. “There’s some fellows in Dalinar’s guard who said—”

“Gaz,” Vathah said.

“But—”

“Seriously, Gaz.”

Gaz sighed. “Guess we can play for ends, then,” he said, and Shob eagerly got out some drops of glass shaped roughly like spheres, but without gemstones at the center. Fake money for gambling without stakes.

Veil was enjoying her mug of beer more than she’d expected. It was refreshing to sit here with these men and not have to worry about all Shallan’s problems. Couldn’t that girl just relax? Let it all blow past her?

Nearby some washwomen entered, calling that laundry pickup would be in a few minutes. Vathah and his men didn’t stir—though by Veil’s estimation, the very clothing they were wearing could use a good scrub.

Unfortunately, Veil couldn’t completely ignore Shallan’s problems. Mraize’s note proved how useful he could be, but she had to be careful. He obviously wanted a mole among the Knights Radiant. I need to turn this around on him. Learn what he knows. He’d told her what the Skybreakers and the Sons of Honor had been up to. But what about Mraize and his cohorts? What was their objective?

Storms, did she dare try to double-cross him? Did she really have the experience, or the training, to attempt something like that?

“Hey, Veil,” Vathah said as they prepped for another game. “What do you think? Has the brightness already forgotten about us again?”

Veil shook herself out of her thoughts. “Maybe. She doesn’t seem to know what to do with you lot.”

“She’s not the first,” Red said—he was the next mink, and carefully arranged his tiles in a specific order, facedown. “I mean, it’s not like we’re real soldiers.”

“Our crimes are forgiven,” Gaz said with a grunt, squinting his single eye at the seed tile that Red turned over. “But forgiven ain’t forgotten. No military will take us on, and I don’t blame them. I’m just glad those storming bridgemen haven’t strung me up by my toes.”

“Bridgemen?” Veil asked.

“He’s got a history with them,” Vathah noted.

“I used to be their storming sergeant,” Gaz said. “Did everything I could to get them to run those bridges faster. Nobody likes their sergeant though.”

“I’m sure you were the perfect sergeant,” Red said with a grin. “I’ll bet you really looked out for them, Gaz.”

“Shut your cremhole,” Gaz grumbled. “Though I do wonder. If I’d been a little less hard on them, do you think maybe I’d be out on that plateau right now, practicing like the lot of them do? Learning to fly…”

“You think you could be a Knight Radiant, Gaz?” Vathah said, chuckling.

“No. No, I guess I don’t.” He eyed Veil. “Veil, you tell the brightness. We ain’t good men. Good men, they’ll find something useful to do with their time. We, on the other hand, might do the opposite.”

“The opposite?” Zendid said from the next table over, where a few of the others continued to drink. “Opposite of useful? I think we’re already there, Gaz. And we’ve been there forever.”

“Not me,” Glurv said. “I’ve got a medal.”

“I mean,” Gaz said, “we might get into trouble. I liked being useful. Reminded me of back when I first joined up. You tell her, Veil. Tell her to give us something to do other than gambling and drinking. Because to be honest, I ain’t very good at either one.”

Veil nodded slowly. A washwoman idled by, messing with a sack of laundry. Veil tapped her finger on her cup. Then she stood and seized the washwoman by the dress and hauled her backward. The woman shouted, dropping her pile of clothing as she stumbled, nearly falling.

Veil shoved her hand into the woman’s hair, pushing away the wig of mottled brown and black. Underneath, the woman’s hair was pure Alethi black, and she wore ashes on her cheeks, as if she’d been doing hard labor.

“You!” Veil said. This was the woman from the tavern at All’s Alley. What had her name been? Ishnah?

Several nearby soldiers had leapt up with alarmed expressions at the woman’s outcry. Every one of those is a soldier from Dalinar’s army, Veil noted, suppressing a roll of her eyes. Kholin troops did have a habit of assuming that nobody could take care of themselves.

“Sit,” Veil said, pointing at the table. Red hastily pulled up another chair.

Ishnah settled herself, holding the wig to her chest. She blushed deeply, but maintained some measure of poise, meeting the eyes of Vathah and his men.

“You are getting to be an annoyance, woman,” Veil said, sitting.

“Why do you assume I’m here because of you?” Ishnah said. “You’re jumping to conclusions.”

“You showed an unhealthy fascination with my associates. Now I find you in disguise, eavesdropping on my conversations?”

Ishnah raised her chin. “Maybe I’m just trying to prove myself to you.”

“With a disguise I saw through the moment I glanced at you?”

“You didn’t catch me last time,” Ishnah said.

Last time?

“You talked about where to get Horneater lager,” Ishnah said. “Red insisted it was nasty. Gaz loves it.”

“Storms. How long have you been spying on me?”

“Not long,” Ishnah said quickly, in direct contradiction to what she’d just said. “But I can assure you, promise it, that I’ll be more valuable to you than these rancid buffoons. Please, at least let me try.”

“Buffoons?” Gaz said.

“Rancid?” Shob said. “Oh, that’s just moi boils, miss.”

“Walk with me,” Veil said, standing up. She strode away from the table.

Ishnah scrambled to her feet and followed. “I wasn’t really trying to spy on you. But how else was I—”

“Quiet,” Veil said. She stopped at the doorway to the barracks, far enough from her men that they couldn’t hear. She folded her arms, leaning against the wall by the door and looking back at them.