This discarded scene section would have taken place in chapter 51 as Adolin went to meet Eshonai in Dalinar’s place.
“So,” Shallan said from the palanquin being carried beside him. “Why me?”
Kaladin and his bridgemen, in the disguise of porters, held the poles to her palanquin. Adolin had expected an objection from them. Instead, Kaladin had nodded, saying, “Good plan. Keeps us close, perhaps ignored, if the Assassin does come.”
“Shouldn’t Navani be here?” Shallan continued. “If you’re imitating Dalinar?”
“We need someone on both ends of the spanreed that we trust,” Adolin said. “Father wanted Navani nearby, so he could consult with her on the right answers to send me. That meant she had to stay, and I needed a different scribe.”
“So you trust me,” Shallan said.
Nearby, carrying the front of the palanquin, Kaladin eyed him. Go suck on a rock, bridgeman, Adolin thought. He had spent his life in politics; he knew when someone was trustworthy.
“So, the plan,” Shallan said.
“We go out,” Adolin replied, “listen to what the Parshendi have to say. You send the words back to my father and aunt, and we reply to the Parshendi according to the instructions we receive.”
“And we watch for the assassin,” Kaladin said.
The scouts returned with an all clear, and so Adolin could finally climb down from ***. He patted the horse on the neck. “Thanks,” he whispered.
The Ryshadium turned inscrutable eyes toward Adolin, then snorted out softly.
Adolin crossed over the mobile bridge, Shallan joining him on foot. “You