The Way of Kings (Stormlight Archive, The)

by Brandon Sanderson

  “That is unfortunately true,” Wit said.

  “Unfortunately?”

  “Yes. You see, Sadeas, you make it too easy. An uneducated, half-brained serving boy with a hangover could make mock of you. I am left with no need to exert myself, and your very nature makes mockery of my mockery. And so it is that through sheer stupidity you make me look incompetent.”

  “Really, Elhokar,” Sadeas said. “Must we put up with this…creature?”

  “I like him,” Elhokar said, smiling. “He makes me laugh.”

  “At the expense of those who are loyal to you.”

  “Expense?” Wit cut in. “Sadeas, I don’t believe you’ve ever paid me a sphere. Though no, please, don’t offer. I can’t take your money, as I know how many others you must pay to get what you wish of them.”

  Sadeas flushed, but kept his temper. “A whore joke, Wit? Is that the best you can manage?”

  Wit shrugged. “I point out truths when I see them, Brightlord Sadeas. Each man has his place. Mine is to make insults. Yours is to be in-sluts.”

  Sadeas froze, then grew red-faced. “You are a fool.”

  “If the Wit is a fool, then it is a sorry state for men. I shall offer you this, Sadeas. If you can speak, yet say nothing ridiculous, I will leave you alone for the rest of the week.”

  “Well, I think that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “And yet you failed,” Wit said, sighing. “For you said ‘I think’ and I can imagine nothing so ridiculous as the concept of you thinking. What of you, young Prince Renarin? Your father wishes me to leave you alone. Can you speak, yet say nothing ridiculous?”

  Eyes turned toward Renarin, who stood just behind his brother. Renarin hesitated, eyes opening wide at the attention. Dalinar grew tense.

  “Nothing ridiculous,” Renarin said slowly.

  Wit laughed. “Yes, I suppose that will satisfy me. Very clever. If Brightlord Sadeas should lose control of himself and finally kill me, perhaps you can be King’s Wit in my stead. You seem to have the mind for it.”

  Renarin perked up, which darkened Sadeas’s mood further. Dalinar eyed the highprince; Sadeas’s hand had gone to his sword. Not a Shardblade, for Sadeas didn’t have one. But he did carry a lighteyes’s side sword. Plenty deadly; Dalinar had fought beside Sadeas on many occasions, and the man was an expert swordsman.

  Wit stepped forward. “So what of it, Sadeas?” he asked softly. “You going to do Alethkar a favor and rid it of us both?”

  Killing the King’s Wit was legal. But by so doing, Sadeas would forfeit his title and lands. Most men found it a poor enough trade not to do it in the open. Of course, if you could assassinate a Wit without anyone knowing it was you, that was something different.

  Sadeas slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his sword, then nodded curtly to the king and strode away.

  “Wit,” Elhokar said, “Sadeas has my favor. There’s no need to torment him so.”

  “I disagree,” Wit said. “The king’s favor may be torment enough for most men, but not him.”

  The king sighed and looked toward Dalinar. “I should go placate Sadeas. I’ve been meaning to ask you, though. Have you looked into the issue I asked you about earlier?”

  Dalinar shook his head. “I have been busy with the needs of the army. But I will look into it now, Your Majesty.”

  The king nodded, then hastened off after Sadeas.

  “What was that, Father?” Adolin asked. “Is it about the people he thinks were spying on him?”

  “No,” Dalinar said. “This is something new. I’ll show you shortly.”

  Dalinar looked toward Wit. The black-clad man was popping his knuckles one at a time, looking at Sadeas, seeming contemplative. He noticed Dalinar watching and winked, then walked away.

  “I like him,” Adolin repeated.

  “I might be persuaded to agree,” Dalinar said, rubbing his chin. “Renarin,” Dalinar said, “go and get a report on the wounded. Adolin, come with me. We need to check into the matter the king spoke of.”

  Both young men looked confused, but they did as requested. Dalinar started across the plateau toward where the carcass of the chasmfiend lay.

  Let us see what your worries have brought us this time, nephew, he thought.

  Adolin turned the long leather strap over in his hands. Almost a handspan wide and a finger’s width thick, the strap ended in a ragged tear. It was the girth to the king’s saddle, the strap that wrapped under the horse’s barrel. It had broken suddenly during the fight, throwing the saddle—and the king—from horseback.

  “What do you think?” Dalinar asked.

  “I don’t know,” Adolin said. “It doesn’t look that worn, but I guess it was, otherwise it wouldn’t have snapped, right?

  Dalinar took the strap back, looking contemplative. The soldiers still hadn’t returned with the bridge crew, though the sky was darkening.

  “Father,” Adolin said. “Why would Elhokar ask us to look into this? Does he expect us to discipline the grooms for not properly caring for his saddle? Is it…” Adolin trailed off, and he suddenly understood his father’s hesitation. “The king thinks the strap was cut, doesn’t he?”

  Dalinar nodded. He turned it over in his gauntleted fingers, and Adolin could see him thinking about it. A girth could get so worn that it would snap, particularly when strained by the weight of a man in Shardplate. This strap had broken off at the point where it had been affixed to the saddle, so it would have been easy for the grooms to miss it. That was the most rational explanation. But when looked at with slightly more irrational eyes, it could seem that something nefarious had happened.

  “Father,” Adolin said, “he’s getting increasingly paranoid. You know he is.”

  Dalinar didn’t reply.

  “He sees assassins in every shadow,” Adolin continued. “Straps break. That doesn’t mean someone tried to kill him.”

  “If the king is worried,” Dalinar said, “we should look into it. The break is smoother on one side, as if it were sliced so that it would rip when it was stressed.”

  Adolin frowned. “Maybe.” He hadn’t noticed that. “But think about it, Father. Why would someone cut his strap? A fall from horseback wouldn’t harm a Shardbearer. If it was an assassination attempt, then it was an incompetent one.”

  “If it was an assassination attempt,” Dalinar said, “even an incompetent one, then we have something to worry about. It happened on our watch, and his horse was cared for by our grooms. We will look into this.”

  Adolin groaned, some of his frustration slipping out. “The others already whisper that we’ve become bodyguards and pets of the king. What will they say if they hear that we’re chasing down his every paranoid worry, no matter how irrational?”

  “I have never cared what they say.”

  “We spend all our time on bureaucracy while others win wealth and glory. We rarely go on plateau assaults because we’re busy doing things like this! We need to be out there, fighting, if we’re ever going to catch up to Sadeas!”

  Dalinar looked at him, frown deepening, and Adolin bit off his next outburst.

  “I see that we’re no longer talking about this broken girth,” Dalinar said.

  “I…I’m sorry. I spoke in haste.”

  “Perhaps you did. But then again, perhaps I needed to hear it. I noticed that you didn’t particularly like how I held you back from Sadeas earlier.”

  “I know you hate him too, Father.”

  “You do not know as much as you presume you do,” Dalinar said. “We’ll do something about that in a moment. For now, I swear…this strap does look like it was cut. Perhaps there is something we’re not seeing. This could have been part of something larger that didn’t work the way it had been anticipated.”

  Adolin hesitated. It seemed overcomplicated, but if there was a group who liked their plots overly complicated, it was the Alethi lighteyes. “Do you think one of the highprinces may have tried something?”

  “May
be,” Dalinar said. “But I doubt any of them want him dead. So long as Elhokar rules, the highprinces get to fight in this war their way and fatten their purses. He doesn’t make many demands of them. They like having him as their king.”

  “Men can covet the throne for the distinction alone.”

  “True. When we return, see if anyone has been bragging too much of late. Check to see if Roion is still bitter about Wit’s insult at the feast last week and have Talata go over the contracts Highprince Bethab offered to the king for the use of his chulls. In previous contracts, he’s tried to slip in language that would favor his claim in a succession. He’s been bold ever since your aunt Navani left.”

  Adolin nodded.

  “See if you can backtrack the girth’s history,” Dalinar said. “Have a leatherworker look at it and tell you what he thinks of the rip. Ask the grooms if they noticed anything, and watch to see if any have received any suspicious windfalls of spheres lately.” He hesitated. “And double the king’s guard.”

  Adolin turned, glancing at the pavilion. Sadeas was strolling out of it. Adolin narrowed his eyes. “Do you think—”

  “No,” Dalinar interrupted.

  “Sadeas is an eel.”

  “Son, you have to stop fixating on him. He likes Elhokar, which can’t be said of most of the others. He’s one of the few I’d trust the king’s safety to.”

  “I wouldn’t do the same, Father, I can tell you that.”

  Dalinar fell silent for a moment. “Come with me.” He handed Adolin the saddle strap, then began to cross the plateau toward the pavilion. “I want to show you something about Sadeas.”

  Resigned, Adolin followed. They passed the lit pavilion. Inside, darkeyed men served food and drink while women sat and scribed messages or wrote accounts of the battle. The lighteyes spoke with one another in verbose, excited tones, complimenting the king’s bravery. The men wore dark, masculine colors: maroon, navy, forest green, deep burnt orange.

  Dalinar approached Highprince Vamah, who stood outside the pavilion with a group of his own lighteyed attendants. He was dressed in a fashionable long brown coat that had slashes cut through it to expose the bright yellow silk lining. It was a subdued fashion, not as ostentatious as wearing silks on the outside. Adolin thought it looked nice.

  Vamah himself was a round-faced, balding man. The short hair that remained stuck straight up, and he had light grey eyes. He had a habit of squinting—which he did as Dalinar and Adolin approached.

  What is this about? Adolin wondered.

  “Brightlord,” Dalinar said to Vamah. “I have come to make certain your comfort has been seen to.”

  “My comfort would be best seen to if we could be on our way back.” Vamah glared over at the setting sun, as if blaming it for some misdeed. He wasn’t normally so foul-mooded.

  “I’m certain that my men are moving as quickly as they can,” Dalinar said.

  “It wouldn’t be nearly as late if you hadn’t slowed us so much on the way here,” Vamah said.

  “I like to be careful,” Dalinar said. “And, speaking of care, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Might my son and I speak to you alone for a moment?”

  Vamah scowled, but let Dalinar lead him away from his attendants. Adolin followed, more and more baffled.

  “The beast was a large one,” Dalinar said to Vamah, nodding toward the fallen chasmfiend. “The biggest I’ve seen.”

  “I suppose.”

  “I hear you’ve had success on your recent plateau assaults, killing a few cocooned chasmfiends of your own. You are to be congratulated.”

  Vamah shrugged. “The ones we won were small. Nothing like that gemheart that Elhokar took today.”

  “A small gemheart is better than none,” Dalinar said politely. “I hear that you have plans to augment the walls of your warcamp.”

  “Hum? Yes. Fill in a few of the gaps, improve the fortification.”

  “I’ll be certain to tell His Majesty that you’ll be wanting to purchase extra access to the Soulcasters.”

  Vamah turned to him, frowning. “Soulcasters?”

  “For lumber,” Dalinar said evenly. “Surely you don’t intend to fill in the walls without using scaffolding? Out here, on these remote plains, it’s fortunate that we have Soulcasters to provide things like wood, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Er, yes,” Vamah said, expression darkening further. Adolin looked from him to his father. There was a subtext to the conversation. Dalinar wasn’t speaking only of wood for the walls—the Soulcasters were the means by which all of the highprinces fed their armies.

  “The king is quite generous in allowing access to the Soulcasters,” Dalinar said. “Wouldn’t you agree, Vamah?”

  “I take your point, Dalinar,” Vamah said dryly. “No need to keep bashing the rock into my face.”

  “I’ve never been known as a subtle man, Brightlord,” Dalinar said. “Just an effective one.” He walked away, waving for Adolin to follow. Adolin did so, looking over his shoulder at the other highprince.

  “He’s been complaining vocally about the fees that Elhokar charges to use his Soulcasters,” Dalinar said softly. It was the primary form of taxation the king levied on the highprinces. Elhokar himself didn’t fight for, or win, gemhearts except on the occasional hunt. He stood aloof from fighting personally in the war, as was appropriate.

  “And so…?” Adolin said.

  “So I reminded Vamah of how much he relies on the king.”

  “I suppose that’s important. But what does it have to do with Sadeas?”

  Dalinar didn’t answer. He kept walking across the plateau, stepping up to the lip of the chasm. Adolin joined him, waiting. A few seconds later, someone approached from behind in clinking Shardplate, then Sadeas stepped up beside Dalinar at the lip of the chasm. Adolin narrowed his eyes at the man, and Sadeas raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about his presence.

  “Dalinar,” Sadeas said, turning his eyes forward, looking out across the Plains.

  “Sadeas.” Dalinar’s voice was controlled and curt.

  “You spoke with Vamah?”

  “Yes. He saw through what I was doing.”

  “Of course he did.” There was a hint of amusement in Sadeas’s voice. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”

  “You told him you were increasing what you charge him for wood?”

  Sadeas controlled the only large forest in the region. “Doubling it,” Sadeas said.

  Adolin looked over his shoulder. Vamah was watching them stand there, and his expression was as thunderous as a highstorm, angerspren boiling up from the ground around him like small pools of bubbling blood. Dalinar and Sadeas together sent him a very sound message. Why…this is probably why they invited him on the hunt, Adolin realized. So they could maneuver him.

  “Will it work?” Dalinar asked.

  “I’m certain it will,” Sadeas said. “Vamah’s an agreeable enough fellow, when prodded—he’ll see that it’s better to use the Soulcasters than spend a fortune running a supply line back to Alethkar.”

  “Perhaps we should tell the king about these sorts of things,” Dalinar said, glancing at the king, who stood in the pavilion, oblivious of what had been done.

  Sadeas sighed. “I’ve tried; he hasn’t a mind for this sort of work. Leave the boy to his preoccupations, Dalinar. His are the grand ideals of justice, holding the sword high as he rides against his father’s enemies.”

  “Lately, he seems less preoccupied with the Parshendi, and more worried about assassins in the night,” Dalinar said. “The boy’s paranoia worries me. I don’t know where he gets it.”

  Sadeas laughed. “Dalinar, are you serious?”

  “I’m always serious.”

  “I know, I know. But surely you can see where the boy comes by the paranoia!”

  “From the way his father was killed?”

  “From the way his uncle treats him! A thousand guards? Halts on each and every plateau to let soldi
ers ‘secure’ the next one over? Really, Dalinar?”

  “I like to be careful.”

  “Others call that being paranoid.”

  “The Codes—”

  “The Codes are a bunch of idealized nonsense,” Sadeas said, “devised by poets to describe the way they think things should have been.”

  “Gavilar believed in them.”

  “And look where it got him.”

  “And where were you, Sadeas, when he was fighting for his life?”

  Sadeas’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re going to rehash that now? Like old lovers, crossing paths unexpectedly at a feast?”

  Adolin’s father didn’t reply. Once again, Adolin found himself baffled by Dalinar’s relationship with Sadeas. Their barbs were genuine; one needed only look in their eyes to see that the men could barely stand one another.

  And yet, here they were, apparently planning and executing a joint manipulation of another highprince.

  “I’ll protect the boy my way,” Sadeas said. “You do it your way. But don’t complain to me about his paranoia when you insist on wearing your uniform to bed, just in case the Parshendi suddenly decide—against all reason and precedent—to attack the warcamps. ‘I don’t know where he gets it’ indeed!”

  “Let’s go, Adolin,” Dalinar said, turning to stride away. Adolin followed.

  “Dalinar,” Sadeas called from behind.

  Dalinar hesitated, looking back.

  “Have you found it yet?” Sadeas asked. “Why he wrote what he did?”

  Dalinar shook his head.

  “You’re not going to find the answer,” Sadeas said. “It’s a foolish quest, old friend. One that’s tearing you apart. I know what happens to you during storms. Your mind is unraveling because of all this stress you put upon yourself.”

  Dalinar returned to walking away. Adolin hurried after him. What had that last part been about? Why “he” wrote? Men didn’t write. Adolin opened his mouth to ask, but he could sense his father’s mood. This was not a time to prod him.

  He walked with Dalinar up to a small rock hill on the plateau. They picked their way up it to the top, and from there looked out at the fallen chasmfiend. Dalinar’s men continued harvesting its meat and carapace.