Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01]

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

  Taln nodded, trusting Kemnar’s judgment. Taln himself was practically

  useless at pathfinding. While Kholinar and a couple of older cities remained where they once had, the general landscape of the kingdom had changed

  430

  BRAND ON SANDERS ON

  greatly in the nine hundred years he had been gone. He had only been able

  to explain the general location of the mountain exit, and they had been

  forced to strike out uncertainly. Only finding a town or major intersection would tell them exactly where they were.

  Kemnar led the way. As they had traveled, Taln had come to trust his

  original impression of the man. Kemnar was competent but humble, curious

  but unassuming. He seemed to be completely unconcerned with rank or

  privilege, an odd quality in a nobleman. In fact, he had proven strangely

  more comfortable with the simple people of the troop, despite his lordly

  heritage. To a Herald still uncomfortable with the devotion he was paid,

  Kemnar’s attitudes were unspokenly familiar.

  The town lights were still in the distance when Kemnar spoke quietly,

  a slight smile on his lips. “Lady Jasnah’s going to be displeased when she finds out we investigated without going back to report first.”

  “You don’t seem all that concerned about her displeasure,” Taln noted.

  Kemnar’s smile widened. “If we went back, she’d just order us to visit the town anyway. This saves time.”

  Taln raised an eyebrow, walking around a particularly large rockbud.

  “The lady certainly is fond of control ing her surroundings—and the people in them.”

  Kemnar chuckled, but Taln hadn’t intended the comment lightly. During

  his travels the last week, he had often questioned the oath of obedience

  he had given Jasnah. Why had he agreed to such a thing? It wasn’t that

  Taln chafed at letting another lead—in fact, he usually preferred to leave decision-making to one of the other Elin. Jasnah, however, knew so little

  of what was really happening in the world—she was only concerned with

  getting word of the invasion to her brother. In addition, her methods

  were annoying. While she wasn’t a tyrant with her power, she also seemed

  incapable of trusting a man to do his duty properly. She had to be involved in every detail of their work, and had to control practically every decision they made.

  Only two things kept him from leaving to seek the Holy City on his own.

  Foremost was the peaceful knowledge of his brethren’s location. Before, he had felt lost and uncertain—worried that something had happened, and

  that he was alone to protect mankind. Now that he knew that the other

  Heralds had gathered, his tension relaxed and the fires of defeat retreated.

  Jezrien, Prael, Nale, Chanaral, Ishar . . . these were men far wiser than

  himself. Though his own efforts this Return had been ineffectual, the

  others would have matters in hand. He could afford a slight diversion, even

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 431

  suffer Jasnah’s commands, if it would build friendship and indebtedness

  with the leaders of Alethkar. When he joined the other Elin, he would be

  able to deliver that much, at least.

  His second reason for staying was a matter of honor. He felt a responsibility to the people he had helped rescue. The palace servants looked up to him—

  he could feel their growing respect; and while their devotion made him

  uncomfortable, he knew that he should encourage it. These ones would

  spread knowledge of the Return and prepare the common people of Aleth-

  kar. He would not betray their budding dependence on him by leaving

  them to the desolation of summer highlands.

  “You know,” Kemnar said after a few moments of walking, “she’s not

  really as bad as you think.”

  “Jasnah?” Taln asked.

  Kemnar nodded. “She’s a bit overbearing, I agree, but at least she cares.

  That’s more than I can say for most of the nobility in Alethkar. Lady

  Jasnah . . . she just tries a little too hard, I think.”

  “She is fortunate to have a man such as yourself fol owing her,” Taln noted.

  Kemnar chuckled wryly. “Not for much longer, it appears.” He tapped

  the oversized pack on his back—duffel-wrapped with two poles sticking

  out the side, it ostensibly held a tent. The two Shardblades within were

  too obvious to carry in the open, yet neither man would consider leaving

  them behind. The pack was awkward, and a little strange, but it was the

  only alternative.

  “She says that since I’m a Shardbearer, I’m too high a rank to be a common bodyguard. I should have never accepted the blasted thing—now that I

  have a Blade, everyone’s going to expect me to start acting respectable.”

  Taln shrugged, thinking of his own Blade. Since they had no opals, both

  weapons had begun to revert to Blanks, and their length had shortened

  slightly. Taln wasn’t accustomed to the process—he had never really been

  forced to bond a Blade before.

  It bothered him how easily Meridas had bonded Glyphting, erasing

  the familiar patterns that had lined its blade for millennia. Instead of the elegant efficiency of Taln’s touch, it had become the stunted, straight-backed weapon Meridas seemed to prefer. Chanaral had hypothesized that the Elin

  Blades, if adulterated by an imperfect opal, would act the same way as the imitation Blades crafted by Epoch Kingdom weaponsmiths. He had been

  right—Meridas had been able to bond Taln’s Blade as if it were nothing

  special. Losing his Blade to such a man . . . it felt like an invasion to Taln, a perversion.

  432

  BRAND ON SANDERS ON

  Taln shook his head, glancing at Kemnar’s pack. At least he had a Blade.

  It was no Glyphting, but it would have to do, for now. In truth, human-

  crafted Shardblades shouldn’t even exist. Though the legends claimed

  otherwise, Taln’s brethren had never intended mankind to have access to

  Blades. Ishar claimed it was one of the great mysteries of time that men,

  so innocent and unskilled in the Three Arts, had managed to craft such

  impressive imitations of the weapons they had seen their Heralds wielding.

  Shalesa had been the one who spread the rumors that the weapons

  had, indeed, been gifts of the Heralds, granting them some measure of

  control over the development. Still, Taln doubted that men understood

  the meaning of the Blades they wielded. To them, the weapons were

  simply another tool—a powerful one, true, but still just a tool. They saw

  a Shardblade as a trophy to possess and exploit, not a chip from one’s

  very soul, a link to both nahel and lhel. None of the Heralds took the opportunity to explain the difference—it was bad enough that mankind

  had the weapons. Almighty protect the world if they ever found out the

  true power locked within those Blades . . .

  “She’s fond of you, you know,” Kemnar said.

  Taln cocked an eyebrow. Kemnar was still on the topic of Lady Jasnah.

  “I doubt that,” he replied. “More frustrated than fond, I would say.”

  Kemnar shook his head. “She likes people who are a bit odd—they interest

  her. She could have chosen practically any Aleth nobleman of lesser rank

  to lead her guard. She could have had brilliant duelists, keen strategists, or could have at least made clever alliances through her choices. Instead, she picked me and . . . Nelshenden.” He paused quietly f
or a moment when he

  said his friend’s name. During the last week, Taln had pried from Kemnar

  the true events surrounding Elhokar’s departure. The truth had only given

  Taln one more reason to someday find a way to duel Meridas.

  “Anyway,” Kemnar said, “she chose us. We were hardly the finest

  swordsmen in Alethkar, and our political connections . . . well, lets just say that in my case, she’d been politically better off before she chose me. I have something of a reputation in court. Nelshenden wasn’t much better.

  A man as simply honest as himself earns a measure of respect from his

  peers, but Nelshenden was no Dalenar. He didn’t have mighty deeds or a

  firm, commanding air to back up his ideals. Most court members found

  him self-righteous and disapproving. In a way, he was even more excluded

  from their ranks than myself.

  “And yet, we were the two men Lady Jasnah chose to lead her soldiers.

  Despite all her manipulations at court, when it came down to her own

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 433

  guards she chose men she could trust.” He paused, eyeing Taln. “And I

  think she trusts you. Or, at least, she would, if . . .”

  “If I weren’t insane,” Taln said

  Kemnar laughed, clapping Taln on the shoulder. “None of us are perfect,

  Taln.”

  They fell silent as they walked. Ahead, the city was getting closer

  in the night. Hopefully they would arrive before the taverns began to

  close. Kemnar walked quietly at Taln’s side, alert and watchful despite his conversational attitude. This was a man accustomed to slinking through

  darkness and watching for foes—another attribute Taln would not have

  thought to discover in a Kanaran nobleman.

  The town was relatively large for an outlying, non-lait village. Taln

  suspected it augmented income, and therefore population, by trading across the Riemak border a short distance away. Eventually, the two men passed

  through hillsides free of rockbuds and other vegetation, though their feet scuffed the remnants of inavah stalks. The bulbous grain-providing plants

  would have been harvested in preparation for the coming mid-summer

  highstorm. As they drew closer to the city, Taln was comforted to see that they weren’t too late—at least a half-tenset taverns shone brightly across the city.Architecture appeared to have changed little in the centuries he had

  been gone. Simple stone dwellings were the norm. Here, away from the

  prettiness of Ral Eram, many of the buildings had been al owed to grow over with the minerals dropped by highstorm rains. Over the years, countless

  winters filled with almost unceasing rains had caked the buildings with

  sheens of rock not unlike those created from drippings inside caves. The

  transformation made the structures look less like man-made creations and

  more like things that seemed to have grown up as natural hills. Stalactites dripped from overhangs, and more ancient structures almost resembled

  melted piles of wax.

  Kemnar smiled, pausing at the base of a hill a short distance from town,

  standing so his body would not be silhouetted against the night sky. “My

  father is lord of a city not unlike this,” he noted. “On the southeast corner of the kingdom. Despite the layout of the buildings, this could have been

  the very place I grew up.”

  Taln nodded. “What are the current customs regarding travelers? Will

  anyone note our visit as irregular?”

  “Oh, they’ll note it,” Kemnar said. “Strangers are always noticed, my

  friend. But will it be unusual? No, not likely. Most communities like this

  434

  BRAND ON SANDERS ON

  depend on trade to survive—they’ll need the leathers and metals their

  parent city produces with its Awakeners. The war will make people edgy,

  but I doubt travel will cease. Wandering duelists, monks, and craftsmen

  will still pass through. Families looking for a new city to settle will often visit— The Way of Kings promises them Right of Travel.”

  “What’s our story, then?” Taln asked.

  Kemnar paused for a moment, looking over their outfits. “A pair of

  men-at-arms,” he decided. “Traveling back to our lord’s city after performing a task. Not noblemen, but moderately high-ranking peasants—Third

  Citizens. You have that knife you took off the dead nobleman?”

  “Of course,” Taln said, revealing the long-bladed knife.

  “Make sure to display it prominently. It’s the sort of thing a high citizen would wear—it’s short enough to be considered still a knife, but long enough to almost be a sword. We’ll be expected to have spears or, more likely, axes, but could have left those behind with our packman. Our story is that we

  stopped for refreshment and news, but intend to press on through the night and next day before we stop for the Bellow. Our home city is Spiremount,

  our master Fourth Lord Khranshel. Our task is no one’s business.”

  Taln nodded.

  “And . . .” Kemnar added hesitantly “you might want to let me do most

  of the talking. That accent of yours will be fairly recognizable here, close to the border. We could explain it away, but I’d rather not draw attention.”

  Taln frowned, but nodded again. Despite the man’s friendliness, Kemnar

  obviously regarded Taln as Jasnah did—a lost wanderer from Riemak,

  addled in the head. Jasnah had yet to commit to a final course for the

  refugee group, but Taln was growing increasingly eager to travel through

  the western land to the Holy City. Beyond searching out his brethren, this would let him see this area that everyone assumed was his home.

  The city turned out to be Marcabe, a Sixth City tributed to Ralinkan.

  They were admitted through the city gates on Kemnar’s story. Though the

  hour was late, the taverns were still quite busy. Kemnar explained that

  because the harvest was in, there would be little for the town’s men to do the next day, and no reason for them to rise early. In addition, the town

  inns would be full of people who had come to the city to seek shelter from the Bellow. Taln and Kemnar walked leisurely through the town, and Taln

  noticed not a few city guards watching at intersections, keeping a wary eye on both townsfolk and newcomers. The city even had a monastery, though

  it was too dark and too distant to tell which order practiced within.

  Kemnar picked a tavern with moderate occupancy. It was a wel -kept, but

  THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 435

  out of the way, place that lay several streets off of the main thoroughfare.

  Taln wasn’t certain how Kemnar knew where to find it, yet the nobleman

  seemed to have little trouble—he simply glanced at where the other main

  taverns were, and then struck off the central thoroughfare and walked

  directly toward his chosen location. The tavern was an older building, its sides slick with cromstone. At first glance, its outside appeared to have

  been abandoned to the elements, but on closer examination Taln noted the

  uniformity of the stalactites, and how the cromstone curled inward around

  the windows, allowing for unobstructed sunlight. The doorway was also

  well-maintained.

  Inside there was a surprising amount of wood furniture. Apparently, the

  Aleth managed to maintain a stable Awakening economy even far from

  their capital. With the right Awakeners placed beside working quarries, the cost of emeralds could be off-set by the ease of transporting wood instead of stone. The result was a substance that, while rare in natural
occurrence, was nearly as cheap as good building stone.

  The structure’s layout was unfamiliar to Taln. Instead of traditional

  Kanaran pillars, the tavern had been built with enormous wooden support

  beams in the ceiling, allowing for a more open atmosphere. A large stone

  serving bar ran down the exact center of the room, with an opening down

  the middle for the barkeep to serve drinks. Men sat upon stools on both

  sides, talking amongst themselves. Nearly all the lanterns in the room

  burned along this central bar, and there were more secluded, darkened

  tables lining the walls. Kemnar shunned these, making directly for a pair

  of stools at the bar. He set down their pack, pulled out a couple of glazed sapphire chips to buy drinks, and waved for Taln to sit beside him.

  Taln eased into the seat, mindful to keep his tongue as the barkeep

  brought their drinks. The mugs were metal, though they had obviously

  been crafted from clay first, then Awakened. The barkeep himself was

  a short man with Aleth coloring. Despite his size, he had a wiry build and a no-nonsense glare that reminded one to be mindful of causing trouble in

  his bar. None of the patrons seemed inclined to disobey. There was an air of hesitant relaxation about them. As Taln listened, he was able to pick out tensets of conversations, his Herald’s mind instantly dividing the voices

  one from another and following the different discussions.

  The men were relieved that the harvest had come in well—insects had

  been found inside the first polyps of inavah harvested, the grain eaten or spoiled from water leakage. Fortunately, the vermin hadn’t gone far, and

  the general harvest had been a success. The monastery—Order of Ishar,

  436

  BRAND ON SANDERS ON

  interestingly enough—had planned a feast in honor of their good fortune,

  and it was to take place on the day after the Bellow. Following the feast, the people would repair their city from the highstorm, then begin preparations for the summer planting, which had to be ready twenty days after the

  Bellow—the day when normal highstorms began again.

  For now, however, there was rest. The harvest had finished early, leaving

  the men with nearly two weeks of freedom before the Bellow. Most had