be a Herald—whether or not it makes him look mad—certainly has gained
him a lot of authority in this group.”
“His skills and heart gained him the authority,” Jasnah said dismissively.
“He believes what he says—I’ve never questioned that.”
Jasnah not suspicious? Dalenar thought, eyeing the woman. That in itself was cause enough to be dubious.
“There is another item of business we must consider, Uncle,” Jasnah said
thoughtfully. “Have you decided who to make your Parshen s?”
Dalenar shook his head. “Echathen will be one,” he said. “As for the
second . . . I’m not certain. It almost feels like there isn’t anyone left.” War had killed all of Dalenar’s close male relatives, the men who should have
received the title. That left a number of Fourth and Fifth Lords, any of
whom would make fine leaders. Yet a Parshen was supposed to be more.
He was the king’s most trusted advisor and friend, a voice and advocate for the throne at all times.
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Hopefully, whoever Dalenar chose would serve him better than Dalenar
himself had served his own king.
“I have a request, then, Uncle,” Jasnah said. “Please consider letting my
husband retain the rank.”
Dalenar started. “Meridas?” he asked with surprise. “That man is . . .” he trailed off. Meridas was Jasnah’s husband now. Though she had not spoken
of the event, Dalenar had gathered the facts from other sources. He had
assumed that the marriage happened before she escaped Ral Eram, and
had been confused to find out about the Kholinar ceremony. However, as he
considered, the move made sense—at least for Jasnah. Her political career
had always been her most important passion.
“I don’t think I can place a man I don’t trust as Parshen, Jasnah,” Dalenar said bluntly. “Besides, Meridas is a panderer and a fop. A lord must display some measure of competence to serve as Parshen.”
“I think he may surprise you, Uncle,” Jasnah said. “He has me. Meridas
isn’t quite the man we thought him to be. But that can wait until after
Alethkar is safe.”
“Let us pray that day comes,” Dalenar said quietly.
Jasnah nodded her agreement, frowning slightly.
“What?”
“I just worry about our . . . upcoming accommodations,” she said, glanc-
ing westward.
“You think we should have turned toward Kholinar instead?” Dalenar
asked. It had been an option—five days ago, when King Ahven’s army
had been trapped across the Rift, the Aleth forces could have broken west
instead of east.
Jasnah paused, then shook her head. “No, this is the best way. You took
everything of value from Kholinar, and I brought most of what you left.
The Herald’s Army drained the Aleth villages of potential soldiers as it
crossed the distance between the Rift and Kholinar. No, there is nothing
left for us in that direction. That doesn’t stop me from worrying about
Teth-Kanar—or, rather, the man who rules it. I don’t particularly care for Intara Teth.”
“I’ve met few men besides wine merchants who do,” Dalenar said with
a snort. “Though his feasters will claim otherwise.”
Jasnah nodded. “Alethkar faces a very serious threat, and I grow nervous
every time Intara is involved in something ‘serious.’”
“We don’t have much choice, now,” Dalenar said.
Jasnah nodded, and he knew she was already working on ways to
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 751
manipulate Intara into helping defend his kingdom. For once, Dalenar
didn’t feel in the least bit sorry for the subject of her plans.
After a few moments of silent watching, Dalenar caught sight of a
familiar figure making its way through the camp toward him. Palhen wore
a standard brown scout’s cloak, and he walked with an unhurried step.
Of course, that meant little—Palhen was not the type of man to express
urgency in his posture or motions.
Dalenar caught Jasnah’s attention, then nodded toward the beefy soldier.
“My head scout has returned,” he said.
Jasnah turned, raising an eyebrow. “I still don’t think that man is properly employed, Uncle. How good can he be as a spy—I’ve seen mountains that
were less conspicuous.”
“He gets the job done,” Dalenar said simply, nodding to Palhen as the
man approached and gave a perfunctory bow.
“The Vedens are still gaining on us,” Palhen said bluntly. “They’re a little over a day behind. Once we reach Teth-Kanar, we won’t have much time to
prepare before they’re on us.”
“Did Kemnar return with you?” Jasnah asked, frowning slightly at the
man’s absence.
Palhen shook his head. “He stayed back—wanted to see if he could catch
a glimpse of the old queen or her son.”
Dalenar nodded, noting the unmasked disapproval in Palhen’s eyes
when Kemnar’s name was mentioned. Shardbearers were not supposed
to be scouts—that duty was reserved for lesser noblemen, men such as
Palhen, whose family ties didn’t provide enough income to support them.
Kemnar was a greater lord now; it wasn’t right for him to risk himself by
scouting the enemy army. Once this all was over—assuming Alethkar
hadn’t fal en—Dalenar would have to take Kemnar aside and explain to him
the duties that came with the privilege of carrying a Blade.
He dismissed Palhen, who bowed his head and withdrew. The man
hadn’t spoken the obvious. Teth-Kanar was still several days march away;
at their current pace, the Vedens could very well catch up before Dalenar’s force reached the city.
The men wouldn’t like it, but Dalenar had no choice but to increase the
pace again. He couldn’t afford a repeat of their earlier flight, with constant harrying and worry—the soldiers were only just beginning to shrug off
their depression.
He turned to note as much to Jasnah, and found that she had been dis-
tracted by the madman’s training again. She stood, watching Taln correct
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a young spearman’s stance, her face characteristically flat and unreadable.
Her eyes, however . . . there was something in them. A hint of emotion
slipped past her walls, and Dalenar found himself studying her curiously.
It wasn’t often that one caught Jasnah off-guard. Dalenar glanced at the
madman, then back at Jasnah. It almost seemed like . . .
Dalenar caught himself, then shook his head, chuckling softly to himself.
No, he was obviously reading too much into her expression.
It was, after all, Jasnah Kholin he was considering.
chapter 84
TALN 14
Taln looked down at what was now called the Teth Lait, toward
the bay below. It was a short Lait, barely more than a few miles long,
and its only real habitable area was here, near the ocean, where the valley expanded to form a natural, secluded bay.
The new city lay almost in the same place as the city of Kanar once had.
Looking down upon it, Taln was surprised to realize that he felt nothing.
What did you expect? he thought, shaking his head. Two thousand years had passed since Kanar’s fall—or, more accurately, since the Heralds’
destruction of the cit
y. Nothing was left of the grand city that had once
stood over the bay. After the city’s defeat, its very stones had been changed to water by Marnah Awakeners, Kanar’s substance sent to mix with the
ocean and be forgotten.
“So, this is where we stand,” Kemnar said, scanning the valley.
“Teth-Kanar,” Brother Lhan agreed. “I’ve never been here before, if you
can believe it. I asked for a transfer a tenset times over—there’s a perfectly nice monastery in the city. No one ever listened to me, though.”
“An oversight,” Taln said, urging his horse down the slope. He had tried
to give up his mount for the carrying of the wounded, but his men would
not hear of it. They were the Herald’s Army, and their Herald would ride,
as was proper. “From what I hear, the city would agree with you.”
Lhan sighed, “I know. It’s a pity.”
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Kemnar paused for a moment atop the ridge, then he moved his horse
forward, joining Taln and Lhan on their way down. “Where do you think
the battle will take place?” he asked.
Taln studied the landscape as they moved, Dalenar’s army piling over the
ledge behind them. The valley was wide and squat for a lait, with plenty of flat ground to fit an army or two. “There,” he said, pointing toward an open plain to the south of the city. “If Dalenar puts us there, he will have the city to his back and the ocean to his left. It’s a good, solid position—ideal for a defending army.”
“The river would cut off retreat to the northwest,” Kemnar noted.
“I know,” Taln said. He left the rest unstated. There would be no retreat
from this battle. The Veden armies had slaughtered the occupants of Ral
Eram, and it was doing the same to any stragglers it passed. King Ahven
intended to leave no survivors to rise against him in the future.
The Aleth army continued its march down into the valley. Their force
was obviously expected—the army arrayed beside Teth-Kanar’s walls was
small, perhaps two thousand in number, but it had obviously been gathered
recently, for it was arrayed in tents rather than housed in the city. A small party detached itself from the army below and began moving up the slope.
“Come on,” Taln said to his companions, nudging his horse to the side
so that he could join Dalenar and Jasnah at the head of the line.
Lord Intara turned out to be a short man, not overweight as Taln would
have assumed from the stories. Instead, he had a blockishly rectangular face with chiseled features, a thin wiry form, and a head of lightly curly hair that was more brown than it was black—not unusual, considering his family’s
proximity to Prallah. Intara hadn’t shaved in several days, and his beard was coming in a light red. He smiled broadly as Dalenar and Echathen reined
in their horses, halting the column. Jasnah’s bearers turned her litter to the side, and she pushed back her drapes. Taln, Lhan, and Kemnar rode up on
one side just as Meridas and Aneazer joined on the other.
“Ah, good,” Lord Intara said. “It took you long enough to get here.
You’ll want to hurry and arrange your men so you can be ready for the
feast tonight.”
Dalenar frowned. “We don’t have time for your nonsense, Intara.”
“Oh?” Intara asked lightly. “Well, you’d better find some time for my
nonsense if you want into my city or to use my troops. I haven’t had a proper feast in some time.”
“The last I heard, Lord Intara,” Jasnah noted calmly from her litter, “you have a feast every evening.”
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 755
“Ah, the incalculable Lady Jasnah,” Intara said with a slight bow. “Un-
doubtedly working on a half-tenset schemes to whip me into line, eh?
Well, I shall save you the trouble. You’ll notice that I said I lack ‘proper’
feasts—my nightly parties are always attended by the same dull people. It’s rare that I have guests to entertain. So, come play with me this evening, and I will command my men to play with you on the morrow.” He turned his
horse with a flip of his hand and began riding back down the valley slope.
“Intara,” Dalenar called after the man.
The short man paused, turning back with a questioning look.
“To what do we feast?” Dalenar asked.
Intara smiled. “To our deaths, Lord Dalenar. Ours, and that of our
kingdom. It will be the finest funeral feast I have ever prepared.” He turned again, leaving an annoyed group behind as he trotted lightly back to his city.
“It supposedly started after his wife died,” Kemnar explained,
climbing off his horse and handing it to a stableboy. “Intara tried to drink himself to death. Unfortunately, he found himself surprisingly resilient to the effects of wanton partying.”
“Resilient?” Taln asked with a raised eyebrow. Around them, the soldiers
were setting up camp once again—only this time, there was a finality about their actions. If they won the battle, there was a good chance they would
remain camped at Teth-Kanar for a moderate amount of time, recovering
from wounds and fatigue. If they lost . . . well, they wouldn’t have to worry about disassembling the camp then either.
“Lord Intara would feast all night and drink himself into a stupor,”
Kemnar said. “But the next day he would supposedly suffer amazingly
trivial effects from the punishment. He didn’t glut himself to fatness no
matter how much he ate, nor did he waste away to nothingness no matter
how much he drank. Instead of dying slowly from his indulgences, he just
grew healthier and healthier. It’s been going on for ten years now.”
“A feast every night,” Lhan agreed. “Teth-Kanar is a Third City with
a strong income, and Lord Intara keeps few Shardbearers or other noble
adjuncts to drain his funds. He spends nearly everything he earns on the
feasts. A rather inspiring story, in my estimation.”
Taln snorted, then spun and punched at Lhan. The monk jumped quickly
in alarm, reflexively dodging and falling into a trained battle stance. Taln smiled, withdrawing his fist. “Eventually you’re going to have to abandon
that lazy façade, Lhan,” he noted. “It’s becoming less believable every day.”
Lhan raised an eyebrow, joining Taln and Kemnar in walking through
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the half-erected camp. “If you don’t think I’m useless, Taln, then you should see me thrust a spear sometime.”
“Anyway,” Kemnar explained, “Intara hasn’t changed much over the
years. Jasnah sent me to investigate his court a couple of years back—she
was convinced that no one could possibly be as indulgent as Intara’s reputation made him out to be, and suspected some kind of political maneuvering
in the background of the feasts.
“I worked my way into his staff and watched him for several weeks.
Every night was the same—a ridiculously lavish feast, filled with the kind of revelers and sycophants that wanton spending attracts. Intara drank
until he passed out at the high table sometime in the early morning, then
his servants—he has special men dedicated to the task—carried him to his
chambers and put him into bed. He was always up early the next day, and
didn’t display even minor hints of a hangover.”
“And this is the man we have fled to for refuge?” Taln asked.
“From what I understand,” Kemnar said, “we didn’t have much choice.”
/> “Where did he get the troops?” Taln asked, nodding toward the group of
soldiers camped beside the city. “If they are made up of men who frequent
Intara’s feasts, then I doubt they’ll be of much use against Ahven.”
“I don’t think he keeps a standing army,” Kemnar said, studying the
tents. “Too expensive. He probably called them up from his tributing lords.
But, anyway, Lady Jasnah asked me to report to her once I was settled.”
Taln nodded his farewell, and Kemnar dashed off toward the nobleman’s
section of the camp. Taln and Lhan stood for a moment, uncertain.
“What now?” Lhan asked. “The feast doesn’t start for another couple of
hours.”
“I’m not sure,” Taln admitted. “I want to visit the men and give some final encouragement, but that should wait until they have their camp assembled.”
Lhan adopted a fond smile. “It’s almost like those days back in Ral Eram
before the attack—the two of us, standing around without anything to do.
I suppose you could go preach to someone, though it wouldn’t be half as
amusing now as it was then. I doubt anyone would throw you out of camp,
no matter what kind of loony things you told them.”
Taln snorted, considering his options. “I know what to do,” he finally
said, choosing a direction. He picked his way through the growing camp,
past men erecting tents, organizing supplies, and unpacking armor
for the upcoming battle. Most men paused when they saw him, and
many bowed—including some who weren’t from the Herald’s Army. It
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 757
was amazing how quickly tales of him had spread through the various
sub-camps, exaggerations piling on top of exaggerations as the word was
passed. He tried to correct where he could but, as always, the momentum of his reputation was far too vast a thing for one man to hinder.
He led Lhan to a group of decorated litters that lay near the outskirts
of the camp. A group of soldiers worked quickly here, erecting a massive
black pavilion. Their quiet, hasty movements made a strong contrast to the bustling interaction of the main camp. The soldiers finished tying down
the last of the tent ropes even as Taln watched, then began scuttling away, eager to distance themselves from the pavilion and its occupants.
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