Fabrials. Shallan scrambled to her feet and stuck her head into the next room. “What about the fabrials?”

“If you use a fabrial,” Yokska said, “of any sort—from spanreed, to warmer, to painrial—you’ll draw them. Screaming yellow spren that ride the wind like streaks of terrible light. They shout and swirl about you. That then usually brings the creatures from the sky, the ones with the loose clothing and long spears. They seize the fabrial, and sometimes kill the one trying to use it.”

Storms … Shallan thought.

“Have you seen this?” Kaladin asked. “What did the spren look like? You heard them speak?”

Shallan glanced at Yokska, who had sunk down farther in her seat. “I think … maybe we should give the good tailor a break,” Shallan noted. “We’ve shown up on her doorstep out of nowhere, stolen her bedroom, and are now interrogating her. I’m sure the world won’t fall apart if we let her have a few minutes to drink her tea and recover.”

The woman looked at Shallan with an expression of pure gratitude.

“Storms!” Adolin said, leaping to his feet. “Of course you’re right, Shallan. Yokska, forgive us, and thank you so much for—”

“No need for thanks, Your Highness,” she said. “Oh, I did have Passion that help would come. And here it is! But if it pleases the king, a little rest … Yes, a little rest would be much appreciated.”

Kaladin grunted and nodded, and Elhokar waved a hand in a way that wasn’t quite dismissive. More just … self-absorbed. The three men left Yokska to rest and joined Shallan in the showroom, where light from the setting sun streamed between the drapes on the front windows. Those would normally be open to show off the tailor’s creations, but no doubt they’d lately spent most of their time closed.

The four gathered together to digest what they’d discovered. “Well?” Elhokar asked, speaking—for once—in a soft, thoughtful tone.

“I want to know what’s going on with the Wall Guard,” Kaladin said. “Their leader … none of you have heard of him?”

“Highmarshal Azure?” Adolin asked. “No. But I’ve been away for years. There are bound to be many officers in the city who were promoted while the rest of us were at war.”

“Azure might be the one feeding the city,” Kaladin said. “Someone is providing grain. This place would have eaten itself to starvation without some source of food.”

“At least we’ve learned something,” Shallan said. “We know why the spanreeds cut off.”

“The Voidbringers are trying to isolate the city,” Elhokar said. “They locked down the palace to prevent anyone from using the Oathgate, then cut off communication via spanreeds. They’re stalling until they can gather a large enough army.”

Shallan shivered. She held up her sketchpad, showing them the drawings she’d done. “Something is wrong with the city’s spren.”

The men nodded as they saw her drawings, though only Kaladin seemed to catch what she’d been doing. He looked from the drawing of the shamespren to her hand, then raised an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. Well, it worked, didn’t it?

“Prudence,” the king said softly. “We mustn’t simply rush in and fall to whatever darkness seized the palace, but we also can’t afford to be inactive.”

He stood up straighter. Shallan had grown so accustomed to seeing Elhokar as an afterthought—a fault of the way Dalinar, increasingly, had been treating him. But there was an earnest determination to him, and yes, even a regal bearing.

Yes, she thought, taking another Memory of Elhokar. Yes, you are king. And you can live up to your father’s legacy.

“We must have a plan,” Elhokar said. “I would gladly hear your wisdom on this matter, Windrunner. How should we approach this?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure we should. Your Majesty, it might be best to catch the next highstorm, return to the tower, and report back to Dalinar. He can’t reach us with his visions here, and one of the Unmade could very well be beyond our mission’s parameters.”

“We don’t need Dalinar’s permission to act,” Elhokar said.

“I didn’t mean—”

“What is my uncle going to do, Captain? Dalinar won’t know any more than we will. We either do something about Kholinar ourselves now, or give the city, the Oathgate, and my family up to the enemy.”

Shallan agreed, and even Kaladin nodded slowly.

“We should at least scout the city and get a better feel for things,” Adolin noted.

“Yes,” Elhokar said. “A king needs accurate information to act correctly. Lightweaver, could you take on the look of a messenger woman?”

“Of course,” Shallan said. “Why?”

“Let us say I were to dictate a letter to Aesudan,” the king said, “then seal it with the royal seal. You could act the part of a messenger who had come personally from the Shattered Plains, traveling through great hardship to reach the queen to deliver my words. You could present yourself at the palace, and see how the guards there react.”

“That’s … not a bad idea,” Kaladin said. He sounded surprised.

“It could be dangerous,” Adolin said. “The guards might bring her into the palace itself.”

“I’m the only one here who has confronted one of the Unmade directly,” Shallan said. “I’m most likely to be able to spot their influence, and I have the resources to get out. I agree with His Majesty—eventually someone must go into the palace and see what is happening there. I promise to back off quickly if my gut says something is happening.”

“Mmmm…” Pattern said unexpectedly from her skirts. He generally preferred to remain silent when others were near. “I will watch and warn. We will be careful.”

“See if you can assess the state of the Oathgate,” the king said. “Its platform is part of the palace complex, but there are ways up other than through the palace itself. The best thing for the city might be to go in quietly, activate it, and bring in reinforcements, then decide how to rescue my family. But do reconnaissance only, for now.”

“And the rest of us just sit around tonight?” Kaladin complained.

“Waiting and trusting those whom you have empowered is the soul of kingship, Windrunner,” Elhokar said. “But I suspect that Brightness Shallan would not object to your company, and I’d rather have someone watching to help get her out, in an emergency.”

He wasn’t exactly correct; she would object to Kaladin’s presence. Veil wouldn’t want him looking over her shoulder, and Shallan wouldn’t want him asking questions about that persona.

However, she could find no reasonable objection. “I want to get a feel for the city,” she said, looking to Kaladin. “Have Yokska scribe the king’s letter, then meet me. Adolin, is there a good spot we could find each other?”

“The grand steps up to the palace complex, maybe?” he said. “They’re impossible to miss, and have a little square out in front of them.”

“Excellent,” Shallan said. “I’ll be wearing a black hat, Kaladin. You can wear your own face, I suppose, now that we’re past the Wall Guard. But that slave brand…” She reached up to create an illusion to make it vanish from his forehead.