Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

by The Way of Kings Prime (ALTERNATIVE VERSION) (pdf)

  oppressive. The smoke twisted and curled, and he could sense something

  dark within those fires. Something moving closer. Coming . . . coming . . .

  No! Taln told himself, forcing himself to his feet. No! I did not fail. I held Veletal long enough before they killed me. I must have. If I’d failed, mankind would be dead. There would be no Return. I would no longer exist. There are men on the top of that wall. You did not fail.

  The fires withdrew, the wall was doused and returned to a dull grey, and

  the screams withdrew, growing soft, then silent.

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 71

  He stumbled forward, toward the open gates. A couple of guards stood

  just inside, watching with apprehensive eyes.

  “S . . . state your name and rank for the city registers, my lord,” the lead guard sputtered. He wore a dark leather vest, and carried a spear.

  Taln paused. A spear. What foolishness is this? That will be useless against Khothen limbs. Where is his hammer? He had much work to do—but this was a matter to discuss with kings, not guards.

  “My . . . lord?” the man asked uncertainly, several other guards moving

  to back him up. The guard’s accent was very difficult to understand—that

  in itself was a clue as to how long Taln had been gone. Fortunately, despite the strange accent, there was something in Taln’s mind that immediately

  began adjusting for the language difference, at it had done so often before.

  “Kings,” Taln croaked, his voice sore. “Gather the Oathpact.”

  The guards regarded each other uncertainly. Had they misunder-

  stood him?

  “The Oathpact Kings,” Taln repeated. “Leaders of the Epoch Kingdoms.

  The Return has begun. I must speak with them.”

  “The . . . Oathpact?” the lead guard asked. “My lord, you must be

  mistaken. This city belongs to Alethkar.”

  Alethkar. The name was familiar. Taln raised a hand to his head, rubbing

  his temple. Alethkar . . . Bajerden’s kingdom. This city belongs to Alethkar.

  That was not right. He had trouble remembering why, but he knew it was not right. There should have been ten kings, not one.

  “Take me to the king,” Taln said, stepping forward.

  The guard moved forward to block him, and Taln reacted instantly.

  Glyphting flashed, shearing the tip from the man’s spear, then stopping

  beside his neck.

  Taln paused. This man only did his duty. Taln withdrew the sword,

  stumbling slightly. “I . . . am sorry,” Taln said, lowering Glyphting.

  The guard exhaled slowly, his eyes wide as he regarded the end of his

  broken spear. The walls . . . the spears . . . something was very wrong.

  The world had changed while Taln had been gone.

  There was a way. He could almost picture it—a scene, with him and the

  others, addressing the Oathpact Kings. It had been Jezrien’s idea.

  “The Sign,” Taln whispered. “Please, tell me you remember the Ballad

  of the Return.”

  “The . . . Ballad of the Return?” the guard asked, reaching down to

  finger a cloth-written glyph tied around his arm with two black strings.

  “Which one?”

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  “Any of them,” Taln said. “They mention a law. A duty all kings must

  perform. They must allow me to give them the Sign. Your religion. Vorin-

  ism . . . it teaches of this, yes? Vorinism still exists, I hope? It teaches of me as well.”

  “My lord? I am a good Vorin, but . . .” the guard trailed off. “You can’t

  mean to say that . . .”

  “I am Talenel Elin,” Taln said. “Herald of the Almighty, one of ten who

  saw the dawn of this world. The time of Return has come again.”

  chapter 8

  JEK 1

  Jeksonsonvallano, Truthless of Shinavar, stood at the edge of the

  lush Veden chamber, watching the heathens enjoy their party. They paid

  him little heed—while his people were uncommon in the desolate lands of

  the east, there were often a few in most large cities. He held his cup, but did not drink from it. Even after nearly ten years exiled in the uncivilized lands of Jah Keved and Alethkar, he had not grown accustomed to the Kanaran

  people’s overly-sweet wines.

  The room, like most of its kind, was formed of stone blocks. The people

  tried to hide their desecration of the rock—using rugs and woven mats for

  the floor, and hangings for the walls. Jek was careful not to rest his back against the stones as he watched; he might have been Truthless, but he was not a blasphemer.

  He still wasn’t certain at the reason for the festivities. However, he

  had traveled to Veden City several times, and it seemed that the nobility

  of the country needed little excuse to throw a celebration. Apparently, this time they regarded the Aleth victory in Prallah as one of their own, even

  though they had sent very few men to the endeavor. That was another trait

  of the easterner mentality—they often took credit for achievements that

  were not their own.

  Jek’s attention was focused on the far side of the room, where the

  Veden king sat on his throne. Jek had been watching the man all evening,

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  comparing rumors with facts. What he saw gave him little hope. King

  Ahven Vedenel was a man with the mind of a child. He watched over the

  feasting nobility with wide, innocent eyes, drinking wine from his goblet

  and smiling foolishly. When he spoke, his words were slurred with the

  dullness of one touched in the head.

  The true king, then, was the man who stood beside Ahven. As self-

  important as he was bald, Karathach was often dubbed ‘The Lord Puppeteer’

  in whispered rumors. Jek’s observations, however, left him with little respect for the man’s manipulative abilities. It wasn’t difficult to play puppeteer over such a witless king.

  Jek had seen enough. He nodded to his companions—a group of merchants

  who had, for a price, allowed Jek to join their company—and slipped from

  the room. He needed to retire early if he was going to be awake in time to assassinate King Ahven in the early morning.

  chapter 9

  JASNAH 3

  The First Palace, designed to accommodate the entourages of each

  Epoch Kingdom at the same time, had eleven different feast halls.

  Only the one in which Jasnah now sat—the one that had originally been

  dedicated to Alethkar—had seen any use during the last several decades.

  The room was one of the largest in the palace, majestic and grand. The

  acoustics were wonderful—a balladess stood in the corner of the room,

  singing a slow, passionate song. “The Fourth Ballad of the Return,” Jasnah thought it was—though she could never keep them separate. A line of

  women sat behind the current singer—lesser noblewomen, waiting their

  turn to provide music for the feast.

  The hall’s grey marble floor was inlaid with a massive silver palen-burst that depicted the glyph nolh, the symbol of air and of power. Air—the first of the Ten Essences, often used as a representation of the omnipotence of

  the Almighty. It was no coincidence that Alethkar’s ancestors had chosen

  nolh to represent their kingdom, a fact of which Elhokar seemed quite aware as he sat proudly at the king’s table.

  Jasnah studied her brother from her place at the women’s tables. He

  seemed to be growing into the kingship more and more every day—the in-

  securit
y he’d displayed upon first assuming the throne was nearly gone now.

  He seemed comfortable among his noble supporters, more in control. How

  could it be that there were so many things he did not see?

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  Dalenar sat to the king’s right, in his proper place as Parshen, yet her uncle’s mood was withdrawn, and he did not smile at the king’s comments.

  To Elhokar’s left sat Meridas—a place that should have been reserved

  for Jezenrosh Kholin, Elhokar’s cousin and second Parshen. Meridas was obviously not a man to be trusted. He had enormous power despite his

  lowly title, and he had no dogma beyond his own thirsty ambition. Yet

  Elhokar saw fit to give the man his ear.

  Jasnah turned from Elhokar’s table to seek out another threat. The wom-

  en’s tables were clustered together in a circular pattern, with the men’s tables forming a half-ring around their right side. The queen’s table was near that of her husband, a short distance from Jasnah’s own. Nanavah sat speaking

  quietly with her ladies-in-waiting, her posture controlled. Powerful. Jasnah had spent the last few hours sending messages to her old contacts in the

  city, and did not like the replies she had received.

  It didn’t help her mood any that Shinri had disappeared. The girl had

  yet to return from her trip to Vedenar, and while it had once been common

  for Shinri to lose track of time, Jasnah had thought the girl beyond such

  things. Shinri’s absence made Jasnah’s table look conspicuously empty.

  Though Jasnah had sent out a tenset invitations, only two had replied

  affirmative—Tama Jothken and her cousin, Remlah. As Sixteenth Ladies,

  they were the two lowest-ranked women Jasnah had invited—she had

  added them to her list almost as an afterthought because of their fathers’

  honorable support of Elhokar in the war. The two sat somewhat sheepishly

  at the end of Jasnah’s rectangular table, eyeing the other tables, which were mostly full of occupants.

  Jasnah frowned in dissatisfaction as the cooks began to enter, bearing

  steaming platters of food. There had been a time when her table would have been the most prestigious one at the feast. It appeared that her extended

  absence had dulled both memories and allegiances.

  “My Lady Jasnah?” a hesitant voice asked.

  Jasnah turned with a frown, though her mood quickly lightened as she

  saw who had spoken. A girl, barely fourteen years old, stood beside the

  table. Despite her youthful features, she wore an intricate woman’s talla, with her hair in braids and her face painted. She held herself well, only

  slightly uncomfortable despite how obviously out-of-place she was.

  Kinae Khardinar. Dalenar’s betrothed.

  “Kinae,” Jasnah said, smiling. “You’ve . . .” You’ve grown so much. It wasn’t exactly the sort of thing one told a second lady, betrothed of a Parshen. “You look lovely.”

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 77

  “Thank you, Lady Jasnah,” Kinae said. She had always been a somber

  girl—perhaps it was the speed at which she had been forced to grow up.

  “My lady,” Kinae said. “It looks like some of the people at your table decided not to come to the feast. Can my table come join you? If you have room,

  I mean.”

  Jasnah felt a sudden wash of gratitude. Oh, child. . . . It was an amazing compliment—despite Jasnah’s relationship to Elhokar, she was unmarried,

  and therefore was of a lower rank than someone like Kinae, even if her

  marriage wouldn’t take place for another four years. For Kinae to abandon

  her own table and to sit beneath Jasnah’s . . .

  Kinae probably didn’t understand what she was offering. Then again,

  she just might. She was very clever—moreover, she was dedicated to un-

  derstanding and fulfilling what was expected to her. Though duty loomed

  far larger than her youthful experience could handle, she tried so hard to live up to her station.

  Kinae waited expectantly.

  “I would like it very much if you joined me, Kinae,” Jasnah said honestly.

  Not only would it fill her conspicuously-empty table, it would cause a stir in the attending women. In Jasnah’s current state of power, anything that

  shook up the status quo was likely to favor her position.

  Kinae turned and walked back to her table, maintaining an attempted

  regal bearing despite her diminutive size. There were subtle understandings that Kinae hadn’t figured out yet—an experienced lady would never have

  come in person, but would instead have sent a lesser lady in her place—but she did a remarkable job, considering her age.

  As Kinae reached her table, Jasnah caught sight of Dalenar at the king’s

  table. The man was watching Kinae with a look of control ed dissatisfaction.

  The rest of the court accepted the betrothal for what it was—a political

  union, meant to seal Alethkar’s relationship with the state of Khardinar.

  They were willing to overlook Kinae’s age; sometimes, conventions had to

  be bent in the name of political expediency.

  Dalenar, however, was not a man who approved of bent morality and

  false motives. To him, it was wrong for a man to accept even a betrothal

  to a girl Kinae’s age. However, at the same time, he was a firm believer in doing what was best for the kingdom—and a strong union with Khardinar

  was vital to Alethkar’s health. When Elhokar had given him the order to

  become betrothed, he had submitted to the good of Alethkar. However,

  the conflict between duty and morality left him in a very strange position.

  Jasnah smiled. If only all of their problems were as simple as Dalenar’s

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  relationship with his betrothed. The pending union might make him un-

  comfortable, but he would deal with it—besides, he already had two heirs.

  When he and Kinae wed in four years, Dalenar could leave the marriage

  unconsummated—as a union in name only—for the rest of his life, and it

  wouldn’t really matter. In fact, Jasnah suspected that she wouldn’t be the only one who respected Dalenar even more for the decision.

  She just wished he would show just a little more warmth to Kinae. She

  tried so hard, and Jasnah suspected the young lady didn’t really understand why her betrothed always seemed displeased with her.

  Kinae had a rather large entourage—mostly the wives of Shardbearers

  in Dalenar’s court. The women masked their displeasure at being forced to

  move tables. Technically, they were members of Dalenar’s court and not

  Elhokar’s, but the Oathgate made Kholinar practically an extension of the

  royal court. These women wouldn’t like the fact that Kinae had associated

  them with Jasnah, who was obviously out of the queen’s favor.

  The ladies, however, let none of this show. They seated themselves at

  Jasnah’s table with pleasant smiles, as if overjoyed at the prospect of dining with the king’s sister. Soon the table was full, and Jasnah felt a lot less out of place.

  As the meal began, a late arrival finally appeared at the doorway. Shinri

  wore the same red talla as earlier, and her face was marked with confusion.

  She sought out Jasnah’s table, then made her way through the feast hall as quickly as propriety would allow.

  Shinri sat herself on the empty stool just beside Jasnah, and Jasnah gave

  her a dissatisfied look.

  Shinri flushed. “I apologize, my lady,” she said quickly. “I shoul
d not

  have been late.”

  Jasnah nodded. “Compose yourself.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Shinri said, taking a few deep breaths and settling herself.

  “I’m sorry.” She glanced across the table, identifying the ladies who were sitting with them. “Not many answered your invitations.”

  Jasnah shook her head. “Fortunately, Kinae offered to bring her entourage

  to my table.”

  Shinri smiled. “She’s a good child.”

  Jasnah nodded. Kinae was only three years younger than Shinri—but

  what a difference those three years made. Shinri had the maturity and the

  mind of a woman—and Jasnah fully intended to exploit both. She would

  need to use every resource she had if she were going to recover her position at court.

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 79

  “What kept you?” Jasnah asked.

  Shinri frowned. “Tethren refused to see me,” she said, absently picking

  at threads on the cuff of her left sleeve.

  “Stop that,” Jasnah said, frowning at the girl’s nervous habit. “What

  do you mean he ‘refused to see you?’ What kind of man won’t meet with

  the fiancée he hasn’t seen for six months?”

  “The servants were very kind,” Shinri said, “but they stalled me in the

  sitting room. Eventually, they returned and told me that I’d just missed

  him—that he’d left just shortly before my arrival on a trading trip to

  Thalenah.”

  Shinri didn’t seem like she accepted the explanation—as well she

  shouldn’t. Jasnah had instilled in the girl a healthy amount of skepticism regarding noble motivations. Everything the servants said could have been true—Tethren was a Prince of House Rienar in Jah Keved, but he was a

  younger son, and such often oversaw their family’s business negotiations.

  Perhaps Shinri had arrived just as he was leaving, and the servants had

  stalled her while they tried to get word to him in time. But Tethren must

  have received word that the Aleth nobility were returning from Prallah—

  why would he have left without seeking out Shinri?

  “If you wouldn’t mind, my lady, ” Shinri said. “Could you include some

  questions about Veden politics in your evening’s communications? I would

  like very much to discover what has been happening.” Specifically, she implied, whether or not my fiancé has been cheating on me.