Interlude 1

K alak locked himself into his secure building in Lasting Integrity. He checked the locks three times, then sighed, closing his eyes. The Radiants were gone.

He’d survived so, so many things, but this escape felt narrower than the others. He couldn’t help thinking that the payment for his frighteningly long life was coming due.

Even after all this time, he didn’t want to die.

He put his back to the door, breathing hard. Should he have gone with them? Eyes closed, he tried to remember the man he’d once been, the hero who had fought for thousands of years. His life seemed a blur, a wash of grey and brown, a fresh painting left out in the storm. These days he felt only panic, indecision, and a crushing darkness. Always nearby, always threatening him. Without Ishar holding some of it back … it would have destroyed him long ago.

But he’d survived. He’d survived.

What if the Ghostbloods sent others? Thaidakar wanted him. Thaidakar, a Herald from another world, a creature who was resourceful and brutal.

I need to hide somewhere else, Kalak thought. Yes. I will gather my things and … and I will go. He rushed into his study, opening the door and stepping through.

Immediately, the drapes from the window beside the door seized him, wrapping around him like two grasping hands, pulling him tight. They’d been cut into strange shapes. What was this? Some art of Stonewards? He panicked, but the cloth—moving on its own—filled his mouth. Like a constrictor from the old world, it bound him, tied around him, then slammed him against the wall and held him there.

He whimpered.

“Well hello, Herald,” said a man sitting at Kalak’s desk. “If you don’t mind, I have a few questions.”

He was a foreigner, with long mustaches and a short stature. Pale skin, his hands laced before him. A floppy hat rested atop the desk. Kalak thought he recognized the man. A member of the caravan? One of Prince Adolin’s soldiers?

Oh … oh no …

A dagger with a gemstone affixed to the crossguard lay next to the hat. The foreigner glanced at it, then smiled. “Oh, don’t focus on that. We won’t be needing it, will we?”

Kalak whimpered again.

The stranger picked up the box that Shallan had relinquished to Kalak, the one that held the seon. The creature liked to hide inside, timid and—

The stranger rapped on the box, and the ball of light popped out. “We good, Felt?” it asked with a feminine voice.

“Should be,” Felt replied.

“Finally!” the spren said. “You have no idea how aggravating that experience was.”

“You did well,” Felt said, leaning back in Kalak’s chair. “I heard Shallan and Adolin talking, worried about the trauma you’d undergone by being ‘in prison.’”

“Domi!” the spren replied. “If I had to listen to one more lovers’ spat between those two—let alone one more makeup session—I would grow a stomach so I could vomit. ”

The ball of light swooped over to where Kalak was held against the wall. The spren’s entire air had changed from a frightened and abused creature—with dim light, and a symbol flickering at the center—to a glowing, confident sphere.

Storms … this was the thing they’d used to communicate. It knew everything they’d discussed. The real spy hadn’t been Shallan. He felt such a fool. He, more than any, should have realized the potential for spren to turn against you. He struggled weakly in the strange bonds.

“I was about to interrogate him, Ala,” Felt said.

“There might not be a need,” Ala replied. “I’ve already relayed the information on Mishram’s location to Iyatil.”

“And Lord Kelsier?” Felt said. “I don’t work for that masked witch.”

“Him as well,” Ala said. “Obviously.” The spren hovered around Kalak’s head. “Do we use the dagger?”

Felt considered it, saw Kalak’s distress, and frowned. “No. I don’t trust it—Iyatil gave it to us, and Lord Kelsier said to be careful. I think we wait to make sure the mission goes as planned. Mraize and Iyatil might contact us for more explanations. So we sit tight, keep this one company, and bide our time.”

“I’m ready to be done with this world.”

“It’s not so bad,” Felt said, idly playing with the dagger that could—if used correctly—end Kalak forever. “Once you get used to everyone being a foot taller than you are. Be patient, Ala. Only a fool assumes they know everything, and Kalak might yet have a part to play.”

Kalak squeezed his eyes shut, trembling, his heart beating rapidly. But a part of him … a part of him was relieved. It seemed that one way or another, further decisions were out of his hands.