Adolin had an unrealistic view of Dalinar. The Blackthorn had an enviable reputation, yes, but he’d clearly suffered his own failures—not the least of which had been letting his brother be assassinated. He’d certainly done less to help in that attack than Adolin had in trying to get Elhokar out of Kholinar as it fell.

Arguing was, of course, useless. Adolin should know his father’s failings better than anyone. He wasn’t going to suddenly recognize them because Veil said something now.

“Any luck getting Shallan to come out?” he asked her.

“I got a thought from her a little earlier,” Veil said. “But other than that … no. I even did a sketch of you. A terrible one, I’ll note. I particularly liked the buck teeth.”

Adolin grunted. And together they continued their walk. He led the way through a hollow in the obsidian, where the strange rock mimicked a rolling wave. The constant sound of clacking beads became a quiet hum as they moved farther from the shore, and Shallan stirred again. The landscape here was so interesting.

Plants grew like frost here, coating much of the obsidian—and they crackled wherever she and Adolin stepped, breaking and tinkling to dust. Larger plants grew like cones, with spirals of color in their translucent skin, as if crafted by a master glassblower. She touched one, expecting it to be fragile like many other Shadesmar plants, but it was sturdy and thick.

Tiny spren watched them from beneath the leaves of small clumping trees. Jagged lightning branches made of something that wasn’t quite glass—for it was too rough to the touch—sprouted silvery leaves that felt metallic and cold. The spren hopped from one branch to another, little more than shadows of swirling smoke with large eyes.

And they move a little like smoke too, Shallan thought. Curling in the vectors of heat above a fire, alive like the soul of a flame long extinguished remembering its former light …

Veil normally reviled such poetic nonsense, but sometimes she could see the world as Shallan did. And it became a brighter place. As they passed a larger stand of the trees, Adolin reached down to take her hand and help her up onto a ridge. Touching her freehand to his skin made something spark.

His touch is a flame never extinguished. Bright and alive, and the only smoke is in his eyes …

They walked along the ridge, and she could pick out the camp below, where the others were packing up their things. Was anyone lingering near her trunk?

Thinking of that almost pushed Shallan away to hide again. Veil, however, had a thought. They needed to leave the device unguarded in a non-suspicious way, then catch who used it. Out here in the caravan, rather than cooped up on the barge, she should be able to make the opportunity extremely appealing. She could perhaps pretend to get drunk. As she had the evening before the last time she knew for certain the spy had moved the device.

“I saw you in there, Shallan,” Adolin said, gripping her hand as they stood on the ridge. “Just now. I’m sure of it.”

Veil glanced away. Feeling like she was intruding.

He squeezed her hand. “I know it’s still you, Shallan. That they’re all you. I’m worried though. We’re worried. Veil says you feel like you need to hide from me. But you don’t. I won’t leave, no matter what you’ve done.”

“Shallan is weak,” Shallan whispered. “She needs Veil to protect her.”

“Was Shallan too weak to save her brothers?” Adolin asked. “To protect her family against her own parents?”

She squeezed her eyes closed.

He pulled her closer. “I don’t know the perfect words, Shallan. I just want you to know that I’m here, and I’m trying.” Then he gestured, leading her farther along the ridge.

“Where are we going?” she asked. “This isn’t some casual stroll, is it?”

“Ua’pam has walked this caravan route before,” Adolin replied. “He mentioned the view up along here is gorgeous.”

Veil narrowed her eyes, but really, was she going to be suspicious of Adolin? She forced her attention back to the spy problem as she followed him, but storms, he was right. The view up here was breathtaking. The endless sea of beads reflected distant sunlight from a million different spheres. They caught the light, and for a moment she thought the entire ocean had caught fire.

Her hand twitched on the strap of her satchel, to reach for her sketchbook, but she remained firm and left it alone. Instead she walked with Adolin to the end of the ridge where the obsidian rose in a low spire, overgrown with a type of delicate plant. Flowering blooms that looked almost fungal, though they glowed with their own inner light, red like molten rock.

I should sketch those.…

Then, overhead, the strange Shadesmar clouds began to churn. She gasped as something emerged from them high above: an incredible beast with an ashen carapace and a long neck. It resembled a greatshell, faintly echoing the sinuous look of a chasmfiend, but flew somehow on enormous insect wings—seven sets of them. It trailed clouds behind it, emerging as if from a shroud of dust. Others clung to its chin, giving it a beard made of clouds.

She stared as it passed directly overhead, and she noticed sparkling lights along its wings and legs. They glowed beneath its skin or shell—like they were points on a constellation, marking its joints and outline.

“Ash’s brush of endless paint…” Shallan said. “Adolin, it’s a starspren. That’s a starspren!”

He grinned, taking in its majesty.

“Holy halls!” Shallan said, scrambling to get out her sketchbook. “I have to draw it. Hold this.” She handed him her satchel and pulled out the sketchbook and charcoal. She could take a Memory—she took several as it passed—but she wanted to capture the moment, the grace, the majesty.

“You knew,” she said, sitting to better brace the sketchbook.

“Ua’pam told me,” Adolin said. “There are certain places where you can see them emerge. From other angles they’re invisible. This place is … a little weird.”

“A little? Adolin dear, I’m a little weird. This place is downright bizarre.”

“Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Shallan grinned, getting down some sweeping lines of the thing as it landed on a different section of clouds above. A few creationspren peeked out of her satchel, little swirling bits of color. When had those hidden in there?

Storms … she felt as if she could see the starspren’s every detail, though it was distant. As it reclined on the cloud, it leaned over—as if looking straight at her. Then it threw its head back, arching its neck, and held the position.

“Storms!” she said. “It’s posing. Vainglorious spren monster. Here, hand me that smaller charcoal pencil. I need to do some detail.”

He handed it to her, then settled on the ground beside her. “It’s good to see you drawing.”

“You knew what this would do to me,” she said. “You deliberately put me in a position where I’d have to start sketching. And here I was thinking how ingenuous you are.”

“I only wanted to see you enjoy yourself,” he said. “You’ve been so serious these last few weeks.”

She sketched by instinct, absorbing the sight and bleeding it out on the paper. It wasn’t a completely automatic process, but it did leave her mind free.