“I guess… that would be a problem.” She took a deep breath. “They fascinate me, these Soulcasters. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to use one.”
“I as well.”
“So you’ve never used one?”
He shook his head. “There aren’t any in Kharbranth.”
Right, she thought. Of course. That’s why the king needed Jasnah to help his granddaughter. “Have you ever heard anyone talk about using one?” She cringed at the bold statement. Would it make him suspicious?
He just nodded idly. “There’s a secret to it, Shallan.”
“Really?” she asked, heart in her throat.
He looked up at her, seeming conspiratorial. “It’s really not that difficult.”
“It… What?”
“It’s true,” he said. “I’ve heard it from several ardents. There’s so much shadow and ritual surrounding Soulcasters. They’re kept mysterious, aren’t used where people can see. But the truth is, there’s not much to them. You just put one on, press your hand against something, and tap a gemstone with your finger. It works that simply.”
“That’s not how Jasnah does it,” she said, perhaps too defensively.
“Yes, that confused me, but supposedly if you use one long enough, you learn how to control them better.” He shook his head. “I don’t like the mystery that has grown up around them. It smells too much like the mysticism of the old Hierocracy. We’d better not find ourselves treading down that path again. What would it matter if people knew how simple the Soulcasters are to use? The principles and gifts of the Almighty are often simple.”
Shallan barely listened to that last part. Unfortunately, it seemed that Kabsal was as ignorant as she. More ignorant, even. She’d tried the exact method he spoke of, and it didn’t work. Perhaps the ardents he knew were lying to protect the secret.
“Anyway,” Kabsal said, “I guess that’s a tangent. You asked me about stealing the Soulcaster, and rest assured, I wouldn’t put you in that position. I was foolish to think of it, and I was shortly forbidden to attempt it. I was ordered to care for your soul and see that you weren’t corrupted by Jasnah’s teachings, and perhaps try to reclaim Jasnah’s soul as well.”
“Well, that last one is going to be difficult.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied dryly.
She smiled, though she couldn’t quite decide how to feel. “I kind of killed the moment, didn’t I? Between us?”
“I’m glad you did,” he said, dusting off his hands. “I get carried away, Shallan. At times, I wonder if I’m as bad at being an ardent as you are at being proper. I don’t want to be presumptuous. It’s just that the way you speak, it gets my mind churning, and my tongue starts saying whatever comes to it.”
“And so…”
“And so we should call it a day,” Kabsal said, standing. “I need time to think.”
Shallan stood as well, holding out her freehand for his assistance; standing up in a sleek Vorin dress was difficult. They were in a section of the gardens where the shalebark wasn’t quite so high, so once standing, Shallan could see that the king himself was passing nearby, chatting with a middle-aged ardent who had a long, narrow face.
The king often went strolling through the gardens on his midday walk. She waved to him, but the kindly man didn’t see her. He was deep in conversation with the ardent. Kabsal turned, noticed the king, then ducked down.
“What?” Shallan said.
“The king keeps careful track of his ardents. He and Brother Ixil think I’m on cataloging duty today.”
She found herself smiling. “You’re scrapping your day’s work to go on a picnic with me?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were supposed to spend time with me,” she said, folding her arms. “To protect my soul.”
“I was. But there are those among the ardents who worry that I’m a little too interested in you.”
“They’re right.”
“I’ll come see you tomorrow,” he said, peeking up over the top of the shalebark. “Assuming I’m not stuck in indexing all day as a punishment.” He smiled at her. “If I decide to leave the ardentia, that is my choice, and they cannot forbid it – though they may try to distract me.” He scrambled away as she prepared herself to tell him that he was presuming too much.
She couldn’t get the words out. Perhaps because she was growing less and less certain what she wanted. Shouldn’t she be focused on helping her family?
By now, Jasnah likely had discovered that her Soulcaster didn’t work, but saw no advantage in revealing it. Shallan should leave. She could go to Jasnah and use the terrible experience in the alleyway as an excuse to quit.
And yet, she was terribly reluctant. Kabsal was part of that, but he wasn’t the main reason. The truth was that, despite her occasional complaints, she loved learning to be a scholar. Even after Jasnah’s philosophical training, even after spending days reading book after book. Even with the confusion and the stress, Shallan often felt fulfilled in a way she’d never been before. Yes, Jasnah had been wrong to kill those men, but Shallan wanted to know enough about philosophy to cite the correct reasons why. Yes, digging through historical records could be tedious, but Shallan appreciated the skills and patience she was learning; they were sure to be of value when she got to do her own deep research in the future.
Days spent learning, lunches spent laughing with Kabsal, evenings chatting and debating with Jasnah. That was what she wanted. And those were the parts of her life that were complete lies.
Troubled, she picked up the basket of bread and jam, then made her way back to the Conclave and Jasnah’s suite. An envelope addressed to her sat in the waiting bin. Shallan frowned, breaking the seal to look inside.
Lass, it read. We got your message. The Wind’s Pleasure will soon be at port in Kharbranth again. Of course we’ll give you passage and return to your estates. It would be my pleasure to have you aboard. We are Davar men, we are. Indebted to your family.
We’re making a quick trip over to the mainland, but will hurry to Kharbranth next. Expect us in one week’s time to pick you up.
– Captain Tozbek
The undertext, written by Tozbek’s wife, read even more clearly. We’d happily give you free passage, Brightness, if you’re willing to do some scribing for us during the trip. The ledgers badly need to be rewritten.
Shallan stared at the note for a long time. She’d wanted to know where he was and when he was planning to return, but he’d apparently taken her letter as a request to come and pick her up.
It seemed a fitting deadline. That would put her departure at three weeks after stealing the Soulcaster, as she’d told Nan Balat to expect. If Jasnah hadn’t reacted to the Soulcaster switch by then, Shallan would have to take it to mean that she wasn’t under suspicion.
One week. She would be on that ship. It made her break inside to realize it, but it had to be done. She lowered the paper and left the guest hallway, her steps taking her through the twisting corridors into the Veil.
Shortly, she stood outside Jasnah’s alcove. The princess sat at her desk, reed scratching at a notebook. She glanced up. “I thought I told you that you could do whatever you want today.”
“You did,” Shallan said. “And I realized that what I want to do is study.”
Jasnah smiled in a sly, understanding way. Almost a self-satisfied way. If she only knew. “Well, I’m not going to chide you for that,” Jasnah said, turning back to her research.