White Sand, Volume 1

by Brandon Sanderson

  Kenton shot a look at Baon, who had taken up position at the room’s door, his face unreadable. Kenton could tell from the warrior’s posture, however, that he was very interested in what was happening.

  Khriss sat down, wiggling in her seat uncomfortably. “Cushions filled with sand?” she asked with a frown. “What is wrong with you people?”

  “What?” Kenton asked, settling into one of the chairs. He commanded his sand to place the qido on a nearby table, then wound his ribbon back across the room to hover in front of Khriss’s chair. She shied away from the sand slightly, then reached forward to poke at it with an apprehensive finger. Eventually, she realized it wouldn’t hurt her, and instead began to wave her hand through the middle of the ribbon, slapping free grains of sand that immediately fell dead as soon as they left the stream.

  “Please don’t do that,” Kenton said, struggling to keep control of the ribbon. “It’s very distracting.”

  “Sorry,” Khriss said, pulling her hand back. Then, mumbling to herself, she continued. “It really exists. Gevin was right—dayside magic is real.”

  “I keep telling you, Khrissalla,” Kenton interjected. “It isn’t magic—it’s sand mastery.”

  She stared at the sand thoughtfully for a moment, then turned accusing eyes back on Kenton. “You still lied to us,” she insisted coldly. “You told us you weren’t anyone important—but apparently you’re one of these Taisha.”

  “I’ve only had the job for a day, now, Khriss,” he replied. “Back when you found me, I wasn’t anyone important.”

  “One day?” she asked. “Why you?”

  Kenton sighed. “It’s complicated. Let’s just say I’m the only one left who could take the job. So, I’m Lord Mastrell. For a little while, at least . …”

  Khriss folded her arms, tapping her foot in thought. “You have to help me,” she finally demanded.

  “I do?” Kenton asked.

  “Yes,” Khriss continued. “I saved your life. When you save someone’s life in a primitive culture, they are honor-bound to follow you until they save your life in return. I’ve read about it dozens of times.”

  Kenton chuckled. “I hadn’t heard about that requirement. Besides, I saved your life too. Remember—I found you water when you were all about to die. I also found you to a town where you could get food, then led you all the way to Kezare. I think we’re about even.”

  Khriss frowned. “I don’t suppose you know anything about the whereabouts of Prince Gevalden?”

  “Your betrothed?” Kenton asked. “No. I hadn’t heard of him until you mentioned his name.”

  Khriss sighed, standing up. “I need to think about this,” she mumbled. She shot Kenton one last look—he couldn’t decide if it was accusatory, angry, or curious—before stalking toward the door.

  Before she arrived, however, a puffing Eric stumbled into the room. “Kenton,” he said between breaths, “those ladders are definitely not going to work. You’re a good friend, but I really don’t feel like risking my life every time I decide to have lunch with you.”

  Kenton nodded. “I’ll tell Dirin to work on it.”

  Eric leaned against the wall, then turned to Khriss and nodded. “Hello again,” he said in Dynastic.

  “Again?” she asked, examining Eric’s darkside clothing.

  “He was one of the sailors on the ship that brought us to dayside,” Baon informed.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  Baon nodded.

  Khriss sighed. “This is too weird,” she mumbled, walking past Eric and leaving the room. Baon quietly shut the door behind them.

  Eric watched her go, then shook his head, letting his back slide down the wall until he was seated. “Kenton, I forbid you to leave this room for at least an hour. I about killed myself climbing up here—I want to feel some vindication that my near-suicide was worth the effort.”

  Kenton smiled, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of what Khriss had said. She hadn’t believed in her ‘sand mages’ but she had come looking for them? Why search for something you think is fakery? And what did her betrothed have to do with it all? Kenton certainly hoped this Prince Gevalden knew what he was getting himself into.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening yet again. A somewhat sheepish, but still annoyed, Khriss stalked back into the room. “The ladder’s broken!” she informed.

  “Oh, sorry about that,” Eric mumbled.

  “Well, how do we get down?” Khriss asked. “There have to be some stairs somewhere.”

  “I’m afraid not,” Kenton replied.

  “But, how do people get up here?” she asked.

  Kenton reached over and picked up a handful of sand.

  “You mean … .” Khriss said, suddenly apprehensive.

  Kenton nodded. “Now, don’t tell me you aren’t curious to experience sand mastery first hand?”

  “I don’t … I mean, not …” she trailed off as Kenton called his sand to life, her eyes transfixed by the shimmering colors and shifting grains.

  Kenton rose, stepping toward the balcony hand holding out his hand toward Khriss. “Are you coming?” he asked.

  Khriss regarded him with suspicious eyes. “Do I have to?” she asked.

  Kenton shrugged. “No, I suppose we could send food up to you once in a while.”

  #

  Khriss sighed, stepping forward and taking his hand, watching apprehensively as the sand whirled around his feet. She still had trouble believing that what he was doing wasn’t a trick of some kind. Unfortunately, she couldn’t come up with any possible way he could be faking. She had felt the grains of sand, she knew they were real. Somehow Kenton could make them move. It shouldn’t be possible, of course, but … .

  Kenton walked to the side of the balcony where the banister was cut away, and stepped off into the air. Still holding Khriss by the hand, he gestured for her to join him. Heart pounding, Khriss did as directed, allowing him to pull her out into his arms. As soon as she left the safety of the balcony, she grabbed Kenton with tense arms, holding close to his body. They slowly began to descend through the air, Khriss holding to him as tightly as she could, trying not to think about the fact that she was trusting her life to a force that shouldn’t exist.

  They reached the ground with a smooth motion, and Khriss released a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. She breathed deeply, thinking about what had just happened. There was no denying it now—the sand mages, or sand masters as Kenton called them, did exist. She had been wrong all this time. Gevin’s mission hadn’t been without purpose—his willingness to dream had proven more valid than her logic.

  Khriss opened her eyes, and only then did she realize that her arms were still wrapped around Kenton. With a start of surprise, she let go of him, stepping back and straightening her robe. The daysider didn’t pay her much heed—his face was focused and his hand raised in front of him as he guided a floating Baon down off the balcony, holding the warrior in a grip of shimmering sand. The warrior was watching the process with interested eyes.

  “Wait a minute!” Khriss realized as Kenton set Baon on the ground. “You could have just dropped me by myself—you didn’t need to carry me!”

  Kenton smiled. “I thought it would be more fun this way.”

  So Khriss slapped him again, this time on the other cheek.

  “Ouch!” he complained.

  “Baon, we’re leaving!” Khriss informed. “This time I mean it.” With that, she stalked away from Kenton and his sand masters, grabbing N’Teese by the collar of her robe as she passed. She checked over her shoulder to make certain Baon was following and proceeded on out the hallway.

  “I can’t believe it,” she muttered. “All this time … Kenton!”

  “We should have been able to figure it out,” Baon noted, catching up to her.

  “How?” Khriss demanded. “There’s nothing remarkable about him—he didn’t strike me as anyone important.”

  Ba
on shook his head. “Someday, duchess, you will need to learn how to judge people, and not faces or titles.”

  Khriss frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Baon just shrugged.

  Khriss sighed—she wasn’t in any mood to deal with him at the moment. “Come on,” she said, stalking from the Diem.

  #

  Kenton watcher Khriss go, still rubbing his cheek. He didn’t know why he continued to bait her; as if she didn’t hate him enough already. Of course, she deserved it for stalking into his home and calling him a liar, presuming to make demands. What did he owe her? He was the one that had been forced to put up with her non-stop questions during the ride back to Lossand. Compared to that experience, death was almost preferable.

  “Hey! Hello! Sand boy, you’ve got a childhood friend trapped on the balcony up here! Aren’t you going to bring me down too?”

  Kenton turned to look up at Eric, who was making waving motions atop Kenton’s balcony.

  “Never mind, I’m coming back up!” Kenton called, reaching for his sand pouch. He paused, however. Powerful sand masters didn’t need to be touching sand to call it to life. It was one of the abilities Kenton had always wished he possessed.

  Reaching out his hand, he focused on the sand on the ground in front of him, commanding it to come to him. He could feel its energy. It wanted to obey, to release its power in a flash of magnificent sand mastery. But it resisted at the same time. There was a barrier—a barrier of power Kenton could not provide. He struggled, feeling it almost come to life, but in the end he still couldn’t make it move. He sighed, lowering his hand. He had improved in strength, but three ribbons was still relatively weak in the hierarchy of sand mastery.

  Well, I should be thankful for what I have. The sands only know where I even got the ability to control three ribbons, Kenton thought, reaching for his sand pouch to retrieve a handful. He had barely called it to life, however, before several calls of surprise sounded from behind him. She’s back again? he thought with amusement. However, when he turned, he found a form approaching that was definitely not Khriss.

  He wore the black cape of a senior trackt, and it matched his dark uniform. Why would a trackt come here? Kenton thought with confusion. The only time he had seen trackts in the Diem was when … they wanted to ask the Lord Mastrell’s permission to arrest a sand master. Oh, sands … Kenton thought with despair. What has Drile done this time?

  Kenton watched with apprehension as the trackt approached. As he did so, Kenton frowned. The man was Kershtian—not only did he have the dark skin and twin braids, but he prominently wore a DaiKeen symbol on his forehead. There was only one person this man could be.

  “Senior trackt Ais,” Kenton said, nodding as the man stopped in front of him.

  The trackt bowed formally. “You have heard of me, My Lord?”

  “I don’t think there is a person in Kezare who hasn’t,” Kenton replied slowly, trying to decide what to do if Ais demanded he let one of the sand masters be arrested.

  “I have been sent on a mission from the Lady Judge,” Ais said with a hard voice. He was formal and stiff—too much so, even for a trackt. He didn’t want to be here. Of course, Kenton could have guessed as much. Ais had just walked into a place his people considered the most unholy on all of dayside.

  “She fears for your safety, Lord Mastrell,” Ais informed. “I have been sent to protect you.”

  Kenton frowned in surprise. “What?” he asked.

  “Part of a trackt’s duty is to provide protection for those in danger. The other mastrells were recently assassinated. The same might happen to you.”

  What was Heelis thinking? Kenton didn’t need protection, especially not from a Kershtian. “Tell the Lady Judge that I appreciate her concern,” Kenton said slowly, “but that I am confident of my ability to take care of myself.”

  “The Lady Judge insists,” Ais informed with harsh, demanding eyes.

  Kenton snorted. “You’re a spy, then?”

  The man did not respond. His eyes, however, did flicker toward the mastered sand glowing in Kenton’s hand, and the edges of his mouth turned down in displeasure.

  You don’t approve of me, Kenton thought, staring back into the man’s cold irises. Heelis not only sends me a spy, she picks the single most antagonistic trackt she can find. Ais met his gaze; the man’s eyes were strong, arrogant. Authoritative.

  “Fine,” Kenton snapped, old reflexes kicking in. “Follow me if you wish—or, rather, if you can.” With that, he lifted himself into the air on his sand, leaving the trackt standing behind in the courtyard. Kenton soared over to his balcony—he was growing quite proficient at propelling himself with sand—to land beside Eric.

  “Who’s that?” Eric asked, nodding toward the trackt, who still stood stiffly below.

  “No one of importance,” Kenton snapped. Then he paused. Part of him wanted to go stride into his quarters and forget about the intolerant Kershtian. Another piece, however, remembered what had happened just a day before, when Kenton had been talking to Drile. The former mastrell had said something very similar to what Kenton had just said to the trackt, and had jumped into the air, landing on this very balcony. Leaving Kenton behind on the sand, presumably to feel inferior.

  Kenton sighed, bowing his head. We are the same, Drile and I, he thought, shaking his head. Like he said this morning; he’s only following my example … .

  An example I will no longer give, Kenton thought with determination. He turned around, jumping off the balcony to leave a startled Eric behind.

  Kenton thumped to the ground beside the trackt, who had turned and was preparing to leave.

  “I apologize for my rudeness, senior,” Kenton said. “It has been a difficult few days for me.”

  Ais turned, a flicker of surprise glinting in his eyes.

  “I will lift you up to the balcony, if you wish,” Kenton offered.

  “I must refuse,” Ais replied. His voice was only lightly accented—he had probably grown up in Lossand. “I would sooner die then let your sand touch my skin.”

  “I see,” Kenton said. “Then, there are several ladders leaning against the wall over there. You may use them at your discretion. You will forgive me if I have matters that need attention.”

  Ais nodded stiffly.

  Kenton sighed, lifting himself into the air once again. He wasn’t certain if he had done any good, but at least he had tried.

  #

  “Stop it,” Eric ordered. “You’re making me dizzy.”

  Kenton paused. He had spent the last hour trying to figure out how to solve the Diem’s problems. He had considered the Taisha, their separate motivations, and the history of sand mastery. He had digested Lossand’s political situation, the influence of the rich kelzi landowners, and the religious power of the Ker’Reen church. And, like it sometimes did, his consternation had manifest itself in pacing—pacing that Eric apparently found distracting.

  “You don’t have to watch,” Kenton accused.

  “If I had anything better to do, I wouldn’t,” Eric shot back, lounging in one of the room’s chairs.

  Kenton ignored him, and resumed his pacing. If only he had more time. Two weeks was hardly time enough to convince himself the Diem could survive, let alone convince its enemies.

  “You know, walking around your room in a circle probably isn’t going to get much done,” Eric observed.

  Kenton sighed. “I know,” he said, gesturing with his hand. A hovering ribbon of sand, glowing almost unnoticed at his side, mimicked the movement. “I’m just going to have to visit the Taisha and try and talk them into voting for me.”

  Eric shrugged. “You always were good at arguments,” he noted.

  “Good at arguing,” Kenton corrected. “Unfortunately, I’m poor at actually convincing anyone. I rarely won any battles, I just made a lot of noise fighting them.”

  “True. Last I checked, the Taishin were all the same when I left—um, present company excluded, of
course. So, who’s first?”

  “I’m still deciding,” Kenton explained. “If I can get some of the Taisha on my side, then others will be easier to convince.”

  “Like the Lady Judge?”

  Kenton shook his head. “Talking won’t do any good with Heelis. She’s already told me what I need to do to get her vote.”

  “Which is?”

  “Pay of the Diem’s debts and unify the sand masters underneath me.”

  Eric raised an eyebrow. “Debts?” he asked.

  Kenton nodded, sending a ribbon of sand into the smaller room with the bookshelf. It returned baring a bound ledger. “I found this last night. Open it to the last page.”

  Eric obliged. He read the figures for a moment, then snorted. “You have to be joking,” he replied.

  Kenton shook his head. “Those reports came from the Lord Merchant. I think my father kept them as a kind of trophy, proof of the Diem’s ability to ignore conventional law.”

  “But, this says you owe over seven hundred thousand Lak!” Eric exclaimed. “Kenton, I don’t think that many coins even exist! You’d have to hollow out the entire Talloner mountain range to get that kind of money.”

  “I know,” Kenton responded sickly.

  “Okay …” Eric said. “Let’s forget the Lady Judge for now.”

  “And move on to whom?” Kenton asked. “Vey? He has been the Diem’s political enemy for decades, and on top of that he’s Kershtian. His people would probably assassinate him if he voted in favor of the Diem.”

  “True,” Eric agreed. “Of course, then there’s my father. He’s always respected the sand masters.”

  Kenton shook his head. “He respected Praxton, not the sand masters.”

  Eric frowned, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “He did often refer to you people as a waste of resources.”

  “He said as much yesterday,” Kenton said, still pacing. “Plus, I think he blames me for your disappearance.”