PROLOGUE!”

“I know,” she said, and bounded off.

“Laral…” he said.

She didn’t meet his eyes as she ran. He probably sensed that she’d failed the test, and skipped right to the swearing.

She made her way back to her seat, and he settled down to one of the couches. Firemoss, and a plate of flatbread wrapped in plastic. Nice. Now he could eat without worrying.

Idly, he wondered if anyone else remembered the river that ran through their city. The docks were on the bay, but there were certainly “stuffs” in the market.

What else could he do? “Well?” he said, finally settling down into his place. “What about the flag?”

“If you shout at me,” Fen said, “I’ll send one of my people to your city to report to you.”

“Report to me?” Lopen said. “They’re calling for my help against the Reachers.” He shook his head. “We’re not good men. We’re not warriors. We’re not even good officers. We’re just good men. Good men.”

The rest of the men looked at Fen.

“I’m not sure how much I trust what they say,” Fen said. “I’m not much of a fool these days.”

“I wouldn’t have you killed,” Odium said. “I trust you, Dalinar. More than anyone.”

“I’m not the one who’s trying to kill you.” Dalinar waved toward Fen. “I know you for what you are now. A dangerous beast, sure, but trust me, Dalinar. You will find a lot of these things to be useful in your own time.”

The men looked to him. No murmurings from the others. Dalinar shrugged, and left the couch. He didn’t even mind. As he walked down the hallway toward the control building, he felt something stir inside him. The Stormfather was still there.

It was still there when Dalinar reached the steps leading up to the wall. Broken glass? He stepped up and settled down in the steps, pulling his Rugged chair over his shoulder.

“So,” Odium said, “how is your work, Dalinar?”

“I’m not sure,” Dalinar said. “I’m still collecting some maps. You know how to join up the wrong portal, or something like that?”

“You can join up any time.”

“Right. I’m trying to remember.”

Dalinar looked back at the firemoss. The rind was broken by the poison, but the cap still burned. He rubbed his thumb across the chipped rim. The hole was still too chipped.

How do you fix it?

“I’m no woodworker,” he said. “I’m a metalworker.”

Dalinar grunted. He didn’t see any screws or bolts. “Yeah, I guess you could say. I’m not much of a cobbler these days.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It’s a pain in the armpits,” Dalinar said, shoving his chair back into the wall walkway. “I have to take the two chairs back from Urithiru and set them out at the front of the tailor’s parlor again.”

Odium turned to him so quickly, his cheeks puffed out. “What is this?”

“Setbacks,” Dalinar said. “I’m going to set them on fire.”

“Oh.” Odium laughed. “You think you’re going to hurt them? You really think they’re going to burn in such a ghastly light?”

Dalinar sputtered. “You could hurt them,” he growled. “If I did hurt them, it would be the only thing I could do.”

“Well, I mean—”