Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

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

  She fol owed her guide into the building, and was confronted by memories.

  The hallways of the New House contained even more pictures than the city

  streets. Not a flat surface was wasted—the floors bore tile murals, the walls grand reliefs or paintings. Here, where highstorms and crom were not a

  worry, the detail could be even more fantastic than it was on the outside.

  However, it wasn’t the beauty itself that caused Shinri to pause, but that beauty’s familiarity. She wouldn’t have thought that the New House would

  have had such an effect on her. The building had been her home for barely

  a year, just before her wardship began.

  Yet, she remembered the busy hallways, cluttered with robed stormkeep-

  ers. She remembered the quiet study rooms, their meditations broken only

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  by her occasional spoiled remark. She remembered tutors both kindly and

  distracted, scholars whose studies were their passion and who had varying

  patience for the temperamental child who had been placed in their care.

  “Lady Shinri?” her guide asked. “Shall I call for the litter?”

  “No,” Shinri said, hurrying forward with a blush. “Lead on.”

  She composed her demeanor as her guide conferred quietly with a

  younger man waiting by the inner doors, asking after the king’s location.

  He then led her from the main hallway. The New House was arranged

  in the form of expanding rectangular hallways, with rooms in between.

  It didn’t take long for her guide to lead her to one of the outer hallways, where Shinri found a familiar figure standing in conference with a couple

  of robed scholars.

  King Amelin was a tall man, young enough to be handsome, old enough

  to be distinguished. Despite the Thalen noble line’s millennia-long tradi-

  tion of mixing with the Kanaran houses, Amelin still betrayed classical

  Inavan features—a round face with a short, subdued nose and chin, but

  predominant ears and brows. The king said something to his companions,

  and several left, leaving only one behind—a middle-aged stormkeeper in

  rich, high-ranking robes.

  Shinri’s guide bid her wait, then scurried forward to announce her.

  Shinri stood quietly as Amelin looked over with surprise. The hallway fell silent, and Shinri steeled herself for royal displeasure.

  “Your majesty,” Shinri finally said, speaking in Thalen as she bowed.

  “Lord Keeper,” she added, nodding respectfully to the king’s companion.

  The king smiled. “Little Shinri!” he exclaimed, waving her forward.

  “About time they found you!”

  Shinri wrestled down a blush. “I apologize for inconveniencing you so

  by my thoughtless lack of respect, your majesty,” she said, walking forward with her eyes respectfully lowered. “I should have announced myself to

  your staff immediately upon my arrival so that I could present myself as

  befitting etiquette.”

  The king paused, cocking his head. Then he laughed loudly. “By the

  Winds! Such propriety. It appears that Lady Jasnah has ruined you, as I

  worried she might.”

  “She has made a lady of me, your majesty,” Shinri replied.

  Amelin raised an eyebrow. “A lady?” he laughed. “Well, there are worse

  things to be, I suppose. Still, I can’t help but remember the fiery little girl who stalked my hallways and threw books at my stormkeepers. She had

  such . . . passion.”

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  “There are other ways to channel passion, your majesty,” Shinri said.

  “Ones that don’t involve giving the royal tutors a concussion.”

  Amelin smiled. “Oh, I didn’t worry about that too much. Reports said

  your aim was terrible.”

  “I was twelve,” Shinri said. “And those tomes were heavy. I still can’t believe that . . .” She trailed off, flushing slightly. “I do apologize for those days, your majesty. I was a foolish child who hadn’t yet learned the service others were striving to do her.”

  Amelin waved away her apology with a gesture. “Here, Shinri. You

  remember Keeper Devai, don’t you?”

  Shinri paused, studying the hefty scholar. “Should I, your majesty?”

  “You should, Shinri,” the stormkeeper replied. “I dodged a fair number

  of the aforementioned heavy tomes.”

  Shinri cocked her head, trying to place the voice. Arrowneck Rechal?

  she thought with sudden surprise, finally deciphering his features. By the winds . . . last time I saw you, you were almost thin enough to be knocked down by a winter highstorm! “Lord Keeper . . . you’ve, uh, filled out.”

  “Young ladies ‘fill out,’ Shinri,” the stormkeeper replied with a chuckle.

  “I’ve just become fat. His majesty is to blame. I was never meant for

  administration.”

  Amelin didn’t respond to the jibe, He just smiled, nodding to an

  attendant. “Send for Zezrik, if you would,” he requested. “Tell him we’ve

  located the Lady Shinri.”

  The attendant nodded, dashing off. Shinri stood uncomfortably, wonder-

  ing at events. Amelin still seemed to retain a fondness for her—perhaps her petition would not go unheeded. However, this was not Vedenar, and it was

  not polite to discuss politics so early in a conversation. So, she turned to lighter topics. “How is the New House doing, your majesty?” she asked respectful y.

  “Oh, it gets along—perhaps too well,” Amelin said, waving for her to

  walk beside him as he began to stroll down the hallway. “The local First

  Monks would have me believe my soul is in question for competing with the

  monasteries for noble students.”

  Shinri nodded as they passed classrooms and libraries. The hallways of

  the New House scuttled with stormkeepers, all of whom bowed to the

  king when they passed. Shinri remembered his periodic inspections from

  her training days. Amelin believed strongly in the school his ancestors had created, patterned after the legendary House of Truths, and took personal

  interest in its development.

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  The building was open to all, a place of deep learning and scholarship,

  like a monastery without the Vorinism. Here, where Kanaran ideals mixed

  with Inavan tradition, theistic values were weaker . . . many even thought them perverted. However, there were some—such as Lady Jasnah—who

  preferred the more secular learning the New House provided.

  “Tell me, Shinri,” the king said. “Has your father forgiven me yet?”

  Shinri blushed again. “He . . . has not changed his mind, your majesty.”

  “He must be rather impressed with your development lately,” Amelin

  noted. “He finally has an ideal courtly daughter.”

  “Hardly ideal,” Shinri mumbled. “Not like . . .”

  “Jasnah Kholin?” Amelin asked. “She studied here, you know. Do you

  remember her, Devai?”

  The portly stormkeeper nodded. “Of course, your majesty. She was . . .”

  “Perfect?” Shinri asked.

  “Competent,” Devai corrected. “Too competent. Jasnah Kholin couldn’t

  just attend a class, she had to dominate it. Most of the other students hated her; a few loved her. But hateful or loving, she controlled them all.”

  Interesting, Shinri thought. Of course, she could imagine Jasnah in such a situation. “A lady is always in control,” Shinri said out loud, quoting one of Jasnah’s favorite teaching phrases.r />
  Amelin snorted quietly. “I think you’ll find, child, that Lady Jasnah’s

  ‘control’ will serve her little over the years. In the end, when she finds herself alone, perhaps she will realize that some things were never meant

  to be manipulated. If you’ll excuse me.”

  Shinri nodded, surprised at the bitterness in the king’s words. It was not uncommon to find someone who spoke of Jasnah in such a manner, but she

  hadn’t expected to hear the tone in King Amelin’s voice. Senses trained by the very woman he had just disparaged tingled at the oddity.

  “Why does he say such things about Lady Kholin?” Shinri asked the

  no-longer-arrownecked man at her side.

  Devai sighed, watching his king. “Amelin is younger than he looks,

  child. His father was still alive when Lady Kholin attended the New House

  nearly twenty years before. He had . . . plenty of opportunity to interact with your lady.”

  “I see,” Shinri said. Another one? How many hearts have you broken, Jasnah?

  “Do not let the king’s history with Lady Kholin weaken the import of

  his words, young Shinri,” the scholar suggested. “King Amelin is a wise

  man. It is difficult to love or be loved when your thoughts are focused only

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  on manipulation—even if you sincerely seek to help through your efforts.

  Remember that as you join the court.”

  Little worry there, Shinri thought. I think if you knew the truth, you’d find me not so corrupted by Jasnah as your king implied. At least, Jasnah seems to think I’ve still a ways to go.

  Inside the room, the stormkeepers had set down tomes and approached

  their king. Newly-inducted acolytes and grizzled sages both looked

  excited as they explained their research to their liege. Amelin smiled, as if interested. Several monks stood obligingly in the corner, probably to be used as readers. Shinri frowned at the sight of the monks—they hadn’t

  been there when she attended the New House. Most stormkeepers ignored

  even the pretense of tradition, giving little thought to the customs that

  said men should not read. Thalenah might have become Vorin in religion,

  but it was still separated from the mainland by a great distance. The island kingdom maintained its own . . . perspective on rules and traditions.

  “The monks are new,” Shinri said.

  Devai smiled. “His majesty invited them—even pays them—as a means

  of smoothing tempers. Do not let his humility fool you—the New House

  is doing well, very well. It is Thalenah’s primary source of income, now

  that the opal mines have failed. Our stormkeepers are respected across the three peninsulas—you won’t find a major nobleman anywhere in Kanar

  who doesn’t employ one. Students come from every civilized nation to learn from us. We may not be the House of Truths, but we are the closest thing

  the world has in these times.”

  Shinri nodded, smiling slightly as familiar memories returned again.

  She could almost pretend that she was here to learn from the stormkeepers

  again. Perhaps it had been the opportunity to get away from her father,

  or perhaps—deep within—she really had enjoyed learning. Either way, as

  she thought back, she remembered her days in the New House with great

  fondness. She had actually cried when her father arrived to take her away, explaining that there was a new treaty with Alethkar—a treaty that gave

  a princess of one house to be the future queen, and a daughter of another

  to be a ward of the king’s sister.

  “The king appears to be enjoying himself,” a new voice said.

  Shinri turned curiously at the voice. She hadn’t realized that someone

  had approached. The form standing behind wore a black robe.

  An Awakener.

  Shinri yelped slightly despite herself, backing away. The Awakener

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  looked at her with an amused expression, regarding her with his inhuman

  eyes. They were unnatural eyes, without iris, pupil, or whites—only red. A deep, glistening red. His skin was deeply flushed as well, and the air around him rippled in a slight halo. Yet there was no heat coming off his body

  “Who is this nervous child?” the Awakener asked, turning toward Devai.

  “Lady Shinri, of the Davar House,” the stormkeeper explained. “The

  king mentioned her to you, I believe.”

  The Awakener turned back toward her, and Shinri shivered. “I see.”

  He held up his hand, and Shinri could see for the first time that he held a large ruby in his hand—a hand with blood-red nails.

  The ruby began to glow. Shinri shied back as the crystal burst to light,

  floating out of the Awakener’s hand, spinning in the air and throwing

  shards of bright red light across the hallway.

  “Tell me, child,” the Awakener said, taking a step forward, ruby floating

  before him. “What do you feel? What do you hear when you touch one of

  the Polestones? The music? Does it come to you? Do they . . . call to you?”

  Shinri paled, glancing at Devai. The rotund stormkeeper did nothing to

  stop the creature. The hair on her arms rose, and she began to shake. The

  Awakener couldn’t do anything to her. She’d undergone the Charan. She was safe. But . . .

  She looked at the thing that was no longer human. Awakeners lived for

  hundreds of years, and their art changed them, each one in a different way.

  They didn’t think like men, for they were no longer men. And as something

  other than men, perhaps the rules of men did not apply to them.

  The ruby glistened. The creature stepped forward. Shinri’s heart jumped,

  terror rising. I have to go. Go somewhere. Run away! The air around her seemed to darken slightly, as if the creature were sucking away the light, and Shinri felt a . . . longing.

  Longing. It was a strange and confusing emotion to fight with her fear.

  She wanted . . . something. She was missing something. But what she

  needed, or why she should think that she needed it, was a complete mystery.

  “Zezrik, that is enough,” the king said. He stood in the doorway, having

  finished his conference with the scholars inside.

  The Awakener bowed slightly, his gemstone growing dark and falling

  back into his hand. He stroked it idly with his thumb, unnatural eyes

  watching Shinri as the king approached, laying a hand on Shinri’s shoulder and turning her away.

  “Don’t mind Zezrik,” the king said affably. “He’s harmless. A little

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  strange, but Awakeners all get that way, eventually. He’s served my family faithfully for three centuries.”

  Shinri glanced behind. The Awakener had turned from her, and was

  speaking to Devai. The two followed behind as the king started walking

  down the hallway again.

  “Why . . . ?” Shinri began. “Why do you let them . . . ?”

  “You think we should set the Awakeners apart, like you do on the

  mainland?” Amelin asked. “Sequester them? My father didn’t think that

  was fair, considering what they do for us, and I tend to agree with him.”

  “They don’t seem to mind being separated,” Shinri said.

  “They don’t seem to mind being free either,” Amelin replied. “Anyway,

  it is of little matter. I’m more interested in why, after three years away, you finally decided to return to Thalenah—and why you didn’t see fit to even

  send word to the palace.”

  Shinri blushed.
“I apologize again, your majesty,” she said. How much to tell him? What will I give away if he finds out I’m suspicious of Tethren’s death?

  The answer was simple—she couldn’t give away anything, since she didn’t

  really know anything. “I didn’t think to contact you because I was distracted by other events. You may have heard that I was engaged to Tethren Rienar?”

  The king nodded. “Part of the same treaty that stole you away from us,

  I recall. I do mourn your loss at his death, child. I don’t know if you were close to the prince or not, but I knew something of the lad. He was a good and honest man.”

  “It is a shame that he should die so tragically while traveling here, to

  Thalenah itself,” Shinri noted.

  The king paused slightly, eyeing her. So, it begins, Shinri thought. You play the game after all, Amelin. You may be fond of the child your school once trained, but fondness and politics are completely separate things.

  “Indeed,” Amelin finally said. “I didn’t even know that he was coming

  until word of his death arrived at the palace.”

  “Really?” Shinri asked, studying his face covertly, looking for signs that the king was lying. He was good at hiding his emotions, for a man. “Some

  people I’ve spoken to were under the impression that Prince Tethren was

  coming specifically to engage in a deal with you, your majesty.”

  Amelin snorted. “You speak of the rumor that he was going to ‘sel ’ me an

  Awakener? Tell me, Shinri. You’ve just seen that I value the freedom even

  of those who don’t value it themselves. How likely do you think I would

  be to break sheneres by paying money to own another man?”

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  Shinri shrugged. “If you thought you were bringing him to freedom,

  perhaps.”

  “No,” Amelin replied. “A man’s reputation is his life, Shinri, especially

  when dealing with you Kanarans. Even freeing an Awakener wouldn’t

  be worth the chance of the Aleth and Veden noblemen thinking me an

  oathbreaker. If they were to stop employing our stormkeepers . . .”

  He was probably tel ing the truth. Amelin could bend religious traditions

  or gender roles, but no man could deny The Way of Kings and survive. It would be political suicide, especially considering Alethkar’s rising political strength.