[Elox]

Elox pulled the self-driving Cremling's Might up to the end of the long line of carts and wagons. Just outside Kholinar-proper was a long waiting line to be let into the large perimeter walls. After all the talk about the Assassin in White, nobody was allowed into the great city without documentation and certification of goods. They said it would be more a formality than actual practice, yet this line said otherwise.

"Waiting. Lies. Hmm." Anomaly hummed from the bench beside him. Even without much expression, the Cryptic sounded very tired.

"Exactly, bud. We'll be here for a bit. But guess I should probably—" Elox put his hands together and breathed in some of the Stormlight that was trapped in the spheres all over the cart. When he reopened his hands, an illusionary horse appeared at the front of the Might. "Already getting some stares from around—not having something pulling the cart and all."

"Aren't horses rare, as well? Big fluffy creatures, covered in hair. It is unnatural." Anomaly sang, gliding up to the railing of the bench to get a good "look" of the creature. Even though he had no eyes.

Most creatures of Roshar were adapted to the highstorms and natural terrain—including the wrathful heat of summers and bitter winters. Therefore, most animals were covered in large plates and shells to help shield their fleshy parts from rock and rain. Horses, however, with their fur and hide, just looked so different. Not shelled, not protected. Just- fluffy.

Those around still stared but did not seem to react as the horse appeared, as though it had always been there. Elox could tell they were surprised by the creature itself, yet he had brought an illusion-horse into every nation of Roshar—people often just let it be, no questions asked.

"They are quite different, but nothing they haven't seen before. They're like chickens... with two more legs, and fewer feathers but more hair."

"So," his Cryptic companion added, "they're nothing like chickens at all."

"Yep!" He laughed heartily, a rhythm in his voice. "Like chickens, but nothing similar."

The carts moved along for some time as farmers and smugglers alike made their way through the city gates. It was not for some time that Elox made it to the front of the lines. It had given the driver plenty of time to think about recent events. Time he chose to instead spend humming songs he still did not know the words to.

"Name, papers, and explanation." The wall guard stated, as though he had said it a million times that day alone.

"Charming. My name is Sol, papers are here, and just your average vegetable farmer. From Rathalas!" Elox quickly added to the end.

"Lies." Anomaly whispered from the bench. To others, he'd be completely invisible, even while swirling on the seat in plain view.

Elox "Sol" pulled a stack of papers out from just beneath the bench, where they were being kept tightly in a lockbox to avoid the rain. He handed them over to the guard without hesitation. A woman, most likely an ardent set to aid the wall-guards in reading, came over from the nearby tent to read them to him.

"Says here, Mr. ... Sol. That you've got an import of cabbage and carrot from... Rathalas? Why come so far to sell your goods here in Kholinar? This must have been quite the trip. Days, at the least?" The woman read, then spoke. She gave one disgusted look at the horse before turning her attention on the wagon itself. "And why keep vegetables and crops in a closed, wooden coach? You are not trying to smuggle refugees, are you?"

Her barrage of questions came like a volley of arrows, causing Elox to fumble his act the slightest bit. "Yes ma'am, and yes ma'am. I have connections here in Kholinar and a selling price I just can't give up or find elsewhere. Plus, it is a lovely trip, and I love taking it each crop-season. Get to see some of the country, as well as the great Kholinar streets."

As Anomaly had hummed again, so quietly that Elox couldn't have heard. "All lies."

"I see then." The woman—who Elox now realized was wearing the crest of Adolin Kholin, the son of Dhalinar Kholin—nodded to the male guard. Since when did the nephew of the king get their own wall guard?

The guard nodded back, lifting his spear and gesturing to the coach with the butt end of it. "Open it up, I want to see this 'crop' of yours. Purely for making sure you don't have something, or someone, else stashed back there."

A farmer shouted curses from the next cart back, causing the guard to sigh and head back in their direction, leaving Elox to just the woman. She had long black hair that was tied up in multiple buns up the back of her head: each one tied with the blue shade of Adolin's army. Her dress went down to her ankles, though she wore a tunic over that, as well, which had the crest sown to the shoulder. If Elox could guess, she wasn't just a reader for the men.

The knife at her belt made that perfectly clear, the handle of which was tucked beneath the tunic to make it appear like nothing more than a pen or reed.

"Well? Going to stop staring at me and open the dang thing then? Or should I call the axehounds over and tear through your cart on our own? Can't promise the vegetables will—"

Why was it that so many people had these- these- monologues prepared around me. Always with the pushy-pushy people and their time. Ah, alright. "S-sorry, I didn't mean to stare, just surprised to see the Adolin crest. Last time I met him he was just a wee lad." Elox looked off to the sky as if reminiscing in old stories.

"Y-you met Highprince Adolin when he was younger?" She leaned in. "Who are you really, Mr. Sol?"

Elox leaned in as well, looked both ways, and whispered; "A cabbage farmer. An old friend of Brightlord Dalinar. Can ask him yourself, if you want."

She opened her eyes wide and immediately started barking orders to the guards standing post around the entrance to the town. Within moments he was let right in. Seemed he had that effect on people or was it the Marksberry cologne he was wearing?

"Does that count as lying?" Anomaly asked, making a sound as if sniffing the air himself, although with no nose.

"Ah, probably so, but who cares? Not like it was that grand'a lie." With that, he drove the Cremling's Might into town, readjusting his coat as they moved. Marksberry—the smell alone will persuade the mind for just a moment, the next sentence the person hears tends to take hold stronger than normal.

"And the lie about knowing Highprince Adolin or Brightlord Dalinar?"

The old driver looked hurt; the little Cryptic-liespren hadn't known. "Hmm? Those weren't lies, I just haven't seen them for a while. He really was a good friend, back then."