White Sand, Volume 1

by Brandon Sanderson

  “I think they can, Ry’Kensha,” Ais said. “The Lady Judge called for a vote of unimity. An abstained vote because of truancy wouldn’t be an against vote, but it also wouldn’t be a vote in favor. Therefore, it would flaw a unanimous vote. All of the Taisha have to be in attendance if you want to win this vote.”

  Kenton cursed again, beginning to pace on his sand-covered floor. “I can understand Vey,” he finally said. “He was incredibly nervous when he thought that I had discovered his secret. Running from the problem seems like something he would do. But Reegent? I thought his vote was secure.”

  “Maybe he changed his mind,” Eric offered. “Of course, that doesn’t sound much like father, does it?”

  Kenton shook his head. “If he had changed his mind, he would have confronted me. Running away to avoid voting isn’t his way. Of course, I didn’t even know he was back from the hunt.”

  “He got back a few days ago,” Eric said. “He’s just been staying in the Tower recovering from his wounds. I went to see him two days ago. He still seemed in favor of you then—as much as he seemed displeased with me, in fact.”

  Kenton shook his head, continuing to pace, his bright white sandcloak billowing behind him. “I trust Reegent,” he decided. “Wherever he went, he’ll be back for the vote. Unless… . the rumors say he went with Vey, right?”

  “That’s what they say,” Eric agreed.

  “Maybe they didn’t go together,” Kenton guessed. “Maybe he went after Vey, to bring him back.”

  “Makes sense,” Eric agreed.

  “But,” Kenton said, still pacing, “Where did Vey go?”

  “I don’t know,” Eric said with a shrug, popping the last snap into his mouth. He sucked on it instead of chewing, letting the carapace ZaiDon melt away as he spoke. “No one knows where he went. The Lord Merchant chartered a ship late yesterday, and it set sail within an hour, heading south.”

  “It appears that your vote has just been sabotaged,” Ais noted. It was a fortunate turn of events—he had almost begun to fear that Kenton would actually get all seven votes. However, the Sand Lord had a way of making things turn out as they should.

  Kenton looked up, determination in his eyes. “Not if I find them and drag them back,” he informed.

  “But we don’t know where they are!” Eric objected.

  “We’ll find out.”

  #

  Khriss sat down in the small boat beside Baon and Cynder. N’Teese stood on the dock for a moment, regarding the small vessel with a frown. She shared the typical daysider hydrophobia. It was almost like the people tried to ignore the fact that they were living on an island. Khriss had often wondered how such a people had come to settle Kezare in the first place.

  A couple of them probably got shipwrecked here, she decided with a smile, and were frightened to cross over to the shore, so they just stayed.

  Eventually, N’Teese climbed into the boat, gripping the side with white-knuckled fingers. The boatman pushed off a second later and began to row them toward the shore.

  The trip was becoming increasingly familiar to Khriss. In fact, the boatmen were coming to recognize her—she didn’t even have to tell them where she wanted to go anymore. They just immediately began rowing her in the direction of the Diem.

  As they moved, Khriss remembered with embarrassment her meeting with Kenton the night before. Such had hardly been appropriate behavior for a noblewoman, let alone a duchess. Not only had she visited the home of a single man, but she had done it during normal sleeping hours, and she had gone alone. Then she had thrown herself at him shamelessly, getting improperly close. What he must think of her … .

  Of course, she had been distraught. Despite the strong front she had shown to Gevin, his words had devastated her. Even now, she could feel the open wounds in her heart. Nothing—not even Baon’s betrayal—had hit her as hard as Gevin’s loathing confessions. She felt worthless. She hated Gevin, but she hated herself even more. Why hadn’t she seen it? Why had she assumed that someone as perfect as Gevin would ever be satisfied with someone like her?

  Kenton wouldn’t want her either—or, at least, he shouldn’t. He had been nice the day before, but she hadn’t given him much choice, launching herself into his arms like an infatuated child. What had she been thinking? After Gevin’s retreat, her first impulse had been to go find Kenton. Baon had suggested they return to darksider town, but she had ignored him, insisting that she got to the Diem instead. She had barely had the presence of mind to send him after Cynder.

  And here she was again, travelling across the lake toward the Diem. Off to bother Kenton again. When would she learn? He was learning to be more political—he no longer gave her sour looks whenever she appeared, but she knew she still annoyed him. After all, she had annoyed Gevin. All of her endless questions and dissatisfaction—why couldn’t she remain silent? Unheard, as a proper lady was supposed to be?

  She just about told N’Teese to order the boatman to turn back. At that moment she noticed something—another boat on the lake. It was only one of many, but it was heading in the opposite direction of Khriss’s. There were several forms on board—one in white, another in black, and one in bright darkside colors.

  Khriss yelped, ducking down.

  Baon raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “He’ll see me,” she said lamely.

  “Yes, I thought that was the point. We are going to see him, aren’t we?”

  “I changed my mind,” Khriss said, embarrassed. “He doesn’t want me around.”

  Baon frowned. “Well, too late,” he noted.

  “What do you—” Khriss began.

  A moment later the boat rocked violently as an occupant landed directly in its center, falling from the sky on a line of shimmering sand. N’Teese squealed in fear at the rocking, and the boatman began to mumble in dissatisfied Lossandin.

  Kenton looked down at her, a confused look on his face. “Khriss?” he asked.

  “Yes?” she replied, feeling silly.

  “What …” he said, then just shook his head. “Never mind. We have a problem.”

  “What?” Khriss asked, sitting back up with as much decency as she could manage.

  “Two of the Taisha have disappeared,” he explained. “Apparently, my threats frightened Vey to the point that he ran away. And, for some reason, he convinced the Lord General to go with him. We’ve got to find out where they went.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “I think I know someone who can tell us.”

  #

  It didn’t look like a farmer’s home. Located on the kelzin island, the Lord Farmer’s house was lavish and tasteful. True, it did bear the symbol of the Field on its gates—a stalk of grain—but the grounds were covered with imported sand and blooming sandflowers.

  “This is where the Lord Farmer lives?” Khriss asked with a frown.

  “He’s not a farmer himself,” Kenton explained. “He’s a kelzi, very similar to the Lord Merchant. The Field is starkly divided between those who own the land and those who simply work it.”

  “A common system,” Cynder noted. “Those who work the land rarely own what they produce.”

  “Oh, they own it,” Kenton corrected. “They have to give a percentage to the kelzin, but they are the ones who actually own the crops. Quite a few industrious farmers have been able to rise to kelzi status through their work. In fact, it’s supposed to be the best Profession if one wants to try to become a kelzi.”

  Khriss frowns. “But, who determines who is a kelzi and who isn’t.”

  “It all depends on who the other kelzin acknowledge,” Kenton said with a shrug.

  “That seems ambiguous,” Khriss objected.

  Cynder chuckled beside her. “Not if you think about it, My Lady. After all, isn’t that really how our system works? What would a title be without the rest of court to acknowledge it? It’s all a matter of connotation.”

  “All right,” Khriss asked. “So why are we
here?”

  Kenton pushed open the gate. Like the Lord Admiral, the Lord Farmer held meetings at his home, rather than an office. Most of his Profession members lived a great distance away, and so he wasn’t as busy as people like the Lord Merchant or Lady Judge.

  “Gennel is Vey’s underling,” Kenton explained. “Even though they’re both Taishin, they’re also both Kershtian, and Gennel is younger. He tries desperately to earn Vey’s favor, and the two meet together often. If anyone in town knows where the Lord Merchant is hiding, it will be the Lord Farmer.”

  Kenton led the group up to the house, taking a slight detour to avoid a large bulbous sandling that was standing on the walkway grazing. The front door was open—in fact, there wasn’t a front door. The entire house was built with an open-aired sort of feel, almost more like a stone pavilion than a building. There were wide columns and built-up chambers, but all of the rooms had broad openings in the walls. It was rather unique, though Kenton wondered if the man ever felt like he lacked privacy. Of course, here on the kelzi island, his nearest neighbor was far enough away that they probably wouldn’t be able to see details anyway.

  An attendant beside the building’s front columns looked up as Kenton approached. As soon as he saw who was coming he started, jaw dropping slightly. Then he jumped to his feet, dashing into the building, disappearing before Kenton even got to his bench.

  “We can’t take you with us anywhere, can we?” Eric noted. “Maybe we should put a bag over your head so you stop frightening everyone away.”

  Kenton snorted. “It’s the sash, not my face,” he said, folding his arms as he waited. Should they go in after the man? His internal question was answered as the attendant reappeared a few moments later.

  “Um, the Lord Farmer isn’t here right now,” the attendant explained weakly.

  Kenton sighed. “I don’t have time for this,” he mumbled, reaching to his sand pouch. A moment later three ribbons of sand flashed to life, streaking across the room to grab the attendant. The man whimpered slightly as Kenton lifted him into the air and floated him over until he was hanging right in front of Kenton.

  “Where is he?” Kenton asked simply.

  The man pointed a quivering finger at a side room.

  “Thank you,” Kenton said, lowering the man to the ground a few feet away.

  “Good job,” Eric approved in Dynastic. “That is definitely going to encourage people not to be scared of you.”

  Kenton ignored him, walking forward and striding through the chamber’s open front. Inside he found a room decorated after Kershtian fashion, with sand-filled cushions and rugs woven from ShalRim fibers. There were sheets hanging from the open windows, flapping like the sides of a tent. The Lord Farmer sat nervously on a cushion at the back of the room.

  Gennel was tall for a Kershtian, almost as tall as Kenton himself. However, he was thin to the point of gangliness, a fact that his robes tried unsuccessfully to hide. He regarded Kenton with a tense face.

  “My Lord Mastrell!” he exclaimed. “Why, what a surprise!”

  “Hello, Lord Farmer,” Kenton said with a nod of his head.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “Where did Vey go?” Kenton asked simply.

  “I don’t know. He didn’t—” Gennel yelped as Kenton’s sand moved forward threateningly. He began to speak very quickly, his Kershtian accent making the words almost indistinguishable. “He made me promise not to tell. Please don’t make me tell. I don’t want to be part of this. Oh Sand Lord, protect me. Vey will be very angry if I tell. Can’t you ask someone else? Oh, please don’t kill me!”

  Kenton blinked in surprise, looking down at his ribbons. Gennel whimpered, cowering on the floor, pulling a cushion over his head.

  This isn’t right, Kenton thought, lowering his hand, feeling sick. He regarded his sand, hovering in the air before him. To him it was beautiful. He couldn’t imagine the fear that others felt. They should see it as he did, see it for its use and its wonderful versatility, not regard it as mysterious and frightening.

  I can’t use sand mastery like this. This is exactly the sort of thing that got us into trouble in the first place.

  He let his sand die. “I won’t force you,” he said simply.

  Gennel looked up with surprised eyes. “What?” he asked. “You won’t?”

  Kenton shook his head. “I will ask, however. For the good of Lossand, Lord Farmer, please tell me where Vey is. I just want to talk to him.”

  Gennel shot a look at the blackened sand scattered across his rug. “Um, I can’t tell you,” he said weakly, then immediately began cringing again.

  “Fine,” Kenton said with a sigh. He would find another way.

  #

  Khriss watched the exchange with dissatisfaction, listening to N’Teese’s translation. He’s not going to do it, she realized. In a way, it was noble—he wanted to do what was right. However, he obviously didn’t understand politics. It was vital that he find out where the Lord Merchant had gone. He couldn’t afford to be merciful right now—he needed every advantage he could get.

  N’Teese sighed as they turned to leave. “Why did we even come?” she complained. “He knew that Gennel wouldn’t tell him unless he forced him to talk.”

  “Hush,” Khriss ordered. Even if the girl was repeating Khriss’s own thoughts, it wasn’t proper to say such things.

  He needs my help, she decided. “Kenton, where are you going now?”

  “Back to the Diem, I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “I need to think.”

  “Then, I have some things I need to take care of,” she said. “I’ll come by later.”

  “All right,” he said distractedly. Khriss nodded to Baon and Cynder moving off to the side.

  “N’Teese, we need to find the Lord Beggar again.”

  The girl raised her eyes in exasperation, but she did lead then toward the poor section of the city.

  #

  Khriss didn’t know what to think, looking on Gevin again. He squatted beside a group of beggars, his twisted face pointed away from her. This was the man she had loved—or thought she loved—for most of her life. This was the man that had rejected her so completely just a day before.

  At first sight of him, a sickness rose within her. Never had anyone rejected her so soundly. The man she had called her betrothed for most of her life had been cheating on her all the while. Cheating on her because he found her annoying.

  Khriss took a deep breath, stilling her churning stomach. She had to see him once more. Kenton needed her help.

  Well, at least he finally told me the truth, she admitted as she approached. For that much, I can be grateful. I could have gone on thinking that he had always loved me, never knowing the truth of my own repulsiveness. A small part of her, however, wondered if that wouldn’t have been the better way.

  “Gevin?” she said.

  Gevin jumped, turning with a scowl on his face. “Don’t call me that,” he spat in Dynastic. “Do you want the entire Dynasty to come searching me out?”

  Khriss smiled slightly, getting an idea. “Why should I care?” she asked. “You should prepare yourself, Gevin. As soon as I return to Elis, my first objective is to tell your parents precisely where you are and what you are doing.”

  Gevin hissed. “You are fool, woman. You really do want me dead, don’t you?”

  “Why should I care what happens to you?” Khriss snapped.

  “You should care what happens to yourself, dear duchess,” Gevin whispered. “There is one sure way to make certain you remain quiet.”

  Khriss paused. “You wouldn’t dare,” she guessed.

  Gevin just raised an eyebrow.

  “Go ahead, Gevin,” she continued, a little less certain of herself. “Threaten me. You haven’t given me any other incentive to stay quiet.”

  Gevin paused, then turned back to shoo away his beggar comrades. “What are you implying?” he asked as he scuffled toward Khriss.

  “I have a q
uestion I want answered,” Khriss said, her confidence returning. “Bring me the information I want, and I’ll promise you my silence.”

  Gevin ground his teeth for a moment. “What’s the question?” he asked.

  “I need to know where the Lord Merchant is hiding.”

  Gevin snorted. “I don’t know that,” he said. “I’ve been trying all day to figure it out.”

  “The Lord Farmer knows,” Khriss said.

  “And how am I supposed to get him to tell me?” Gevin asked with a frown.

  “I don’t care,” Khriss said coldly. “That is your problem—I just want the information. You have one dayside hour to find it for me.”

  “One hour!” Gevin snapped. “That’s impossible.”

  “Then you’d better get moving,” Khriss suggested. “I don’t have much time, Gevin. A friend of mine is under a very strict deadline.”

  Gevin continued to frown, ignoring the spittle on the side of his lip. Khriss stood with concern. Had she pushed too hard? Would he actually decide that killing her was easier? This was Gevin—he couldn’t be that heartless, could he?

  Finally, Gevin snorted and shook his head. “I’ll do it, Khrissalla, if only to get you out of my face for good. It’s funny. You’re so much more involved with politics now that you’ve left your homeland behind.”

  “I guess I just don’t have anyone holding me back any more,” Khriss shot back. “Now get moving.”

  #

  For a man with so much to do, I certainly do spend a lot of time in my room, Kenton thought with disdain, continuing to pace.

  He was in trouble, and he knew it. He couldn’t think of anyone else who would know where the Lord Merchant was going. He’d hoped the man would be foolish enough to leave record of his trip, but Kenton had stopped by to see the Kezare Dockmaster before returning to the Diem. The man had explained that Vey had chartered an entire ship rather than simply buying passage aboard one with a set destination. He hadn’t told anyone where he intended to go, he had simply set off south.