The Way of Kings sa-1

by Brandon Sanderson

  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 soldiers ‘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.

  He and his father stood there for a time, Adolin brimming with questions, yet unable to find a way to phrase them.

  Eventually, Dalinar spoke. “Have I ever told you what Gavilar’s final words to me were?”

  “You haven’t. I’ve always wondered about that night.”

  “‘Brother, follow the Codes tonight. There is something strange upon the winds.’ That’s what he said to me, the last thing he told me just before we began the treaty-signing celebration.”

  “I didn’t realize that Uncle Gavilar followed the Codes.”

  “He’s the one who first showed them to me. He found them as a relic of old Alethkar, back when we’d first been united. He began following them shortly before he died.” Dalinar grew hesitant. “Those were odd days, son. Jasnah and I weren’t sure what to think of the changes in Gavilar. At the time, I thought the Codes foolishness, even the one that commanded an officer to avoid strong drink during times of war. Especially th
at one.” His voice grew even softer. “I was unconscious on the ground when Gavilar was murdered. I can remember voices, trying to wake me up, but I was too addled by my wine. I should have been there for him.”

  He looked to Adolin. “I cannot live in the past. It is foolishness to do so. I blame myself for Gavilar’s death, but there is nothing to be done for him now.”

  Adolin nodded.

  “Son, I keep hoping that if I make you follow the Codes long enough, you will see-as I have-their importance. Hopefully you will not need as dramatic an example of it as I did. Regardless, you need to understand. You speak of Sadeas, of beating him, of competing with him. Do you know of Sadeas’s part in my brother’s death?”

  “He was the decoy,” Adolin said. Sadeas, Gavilar, and Dalinar had been good friends up until the king’s death. Everyone knew it. They had conquered Alethkar together.

  “Yes,” Dalinar said. “He was with the king and heard the soldiers crying that a Shardbearer was attacking. The decoy idea was Sadeas’s plan-he put on one of Gavilar’s robes and fled in Gavilar’s place. It was suicide, what he did. Wearing no Plate, making a Shardbearer assassin chase him. I honestly think it was one of the bravest things I’ve ever known a man to do.”

  “But it failed.”

  “Yes. And there’s a part of me that can never forgive Sadeas for that failure. I know it’s irrational, but he should have been there, with Gavilar. Just like I should have been. We both failed our king, and we cannot forgive one another. But the two of us are still united in one thing. We made a vow on that day. We’d protect Gavilar’s son. No matter what the cost, no matter what other things came between us, we would protect Elhokar.

  “And so that’s why I’m here on these Plains. It isn’t wealth or glory. I care nothing for those things, not any longer. I came for the brother I loved, and for the nephew I love in his own right. And, in a way, this is what divides Sadeas and me even as it unites us. Sadeas thinks that the best way to protect Elhokar is to kill the Parshendi. He drives himself, and his men, brutally, to get to those plateaus and fight. I believe a part of him thinks I’m breaking my vow by not doing the same.

  “But that’s not the way to protect Elhokar. He needs a stable throne, allies that support him, not highprinces that bicker. Making a strong Alethkar will protect him better than killing our enemies will. This was Gavilar’s life’s work, uniting the highprinces…”

  He trailed off. Adolin waited for more, but it did not come.

  “Sadeas,” Adolin finally said. “I’m…surprised to hear you call him brave.”

  “He is brave. And cunning. Sometimes, I make the mistake of letting his extravagant dress and mannerisms lead me to underestimate him. But there’s a good man inside of him, son. He is not our enemy. We can be petty sometimes, the two of us. But he works to protect Elhokar, so I ask you to respect that.”

  How did one respond to that? You hate him, but you ask me not to? “All right,” Adolin said. “I’ll watch myself around him. But, Father, I still don’t trust him. Please. At least consider the possibility that he’s not as committed as you are, that he’s playing you.”

  “Very well,” Dalinar said. “I’ll consider it.”

  Adolin nodded. It was something. “What of what he said at the end? Something about writing?”

  Dalinar hesitated. “It is a secret he and I share. Other than us, only Jasnah and Elhokar know of it. I’ve contemplated for a time whether I should tell you, as you will take my place should I fall. I spoke to you of the last words my brother said to me.”

  “Asking you to follow the Codes.”

  “Yes. But there is more. Something else he said to me, but not with spoken words. Instead, these are words that…he wrote.”

  “Gavilar could write?”

  “When Sadeas discovered the king’s body, he found words written on the fragment of a board, using Gavilar’s own blood. ‘Brother,’ they said. ‘You must find the most important words a man can say.’ Sadeas hid the fragment away, and we later had Jasnah read the words. If it is true that he could write-and other possibilities seem implausible-it was a shameful secret he hide. As I said, his actions grew very odd near the end of his life.”

  “And what does it mean? Those words?”

  “It’s a quote,” Dalinar said. “From an ancient book called The Way of Kings. Gavilar favored readings from the volume near the end of his life-he spoke to me of it often. I didn’t realize the quote was from it until recently; Jasnah discovered it for me. I’ve now had the text of the book read to me a few times, but so far, I find nothing to explain why he wrote what he did.” He paused. “The book was used by the Radiants as a kind of guidebook, a book of counsel on how to live their lives.”

  The Radiants? Stormfather! Adolin thought. The delusions his father had…they often seemed to have something to do with the Radiants. This was further proof that the delusions were related to Dalinar’s guilt over his brother’s death.

  But what could Adolin do to help?

  Metal footsteps ground on the rock behind. Adolin turned, then nodded in respect as the king approached, still wearing his golden Shardplate, though he’d removed the helm. He was several years Adolin’s senior, and had a bold face with a prominent nose. Some said they saw in him a kingly air and a regal bearing, and women Adolin trusted had confided that they found the king quite handsome.

  Not as handsome as Adolin, of course. But still handsome.

  The king was married, however; his wife the queen managed his affairs back in Alethkar. “Uncle,” Elhokar said. “Can we not be on our way? I’m certain that we Shardbearers could leap the chasm. You and I could be back at the warcamps shortly.”

  “I will not leave my men, Your Majesty,” Dalinar said. “And I doubt you want to be running across the plateaus for several hours alone, exposed, without proper guards.”

  “I suppose,” the king said. “Either way, I did want to thank you for your bravery today. It appears that I owe you my life yet again.”

  “Keeping you alive is something else I try very hard to make a habit, Your Majesty.”

  “I am glad for it. Have you looked into the item I asked you about?” He nodded to the girth, which Adolin realized he was still carrying in a gauntleted hand.

  “I did,” Dalinar said.

  “Well?”

  “We couldn’t decide, Your Majesty,” Dalinar said, taking the strap and handing it to the king. “It may have been cut. The tear is smoother along one side. Like it was weakened so that it would rip.”

  “I knew it!” Elhokar held the strap up and inspected it.

  “We are not leatherworkers, Your Majesty,” Dalinar said. “We need to give both sides of the strap to experts and get their opinions. I have instructed Adolin to look into the matter further.”

  “It was cut,” Elhokar said. “I can see it clearly, right here. I keep telling you, Uncle. Someone is trying to kill me. They want me, just like they wanted my father.”

  “Surely you don’t think the Parshendi did this,” Dalinar said, sounding shocked.

  “I don’t know who did it. Perhaps someone on this very hunt.”

  Adolin frowned. What was Elhokar implying? The majority of the people on this hunt were Dalinar’s men.

  “Your Majesty,” Dalinar said frankly, “we will look into the matter. But you have to be prepared to accept that this might have just been an accident.”

  “You don’t believe me,” Elhokar said flatly. “You never believe me.”

  Dalinar took a deep breath, and Adolin could see that his father had to struggle to keep his temper. “I’m not saying that. Even a potential threat to your life worries me very much. But I do suggest that you avoid leaping to conclusions. Adolin has pointed out that this would be a terribly clumsy way to try to kill you. A fall from horseback isn’t a serious threat to a man wearing Plate.”

  “Yes, but during a hunt?” Elhokar said. “Perhaps they wanted the chasmfiend to kill me.”

  “We weren
’t supposed to be in danger from the hunt,” Dalinar said. “We were supposed to pelt the greatshell from a distance, then ride up and butcher it.”

  Elhokar narrowed his eyes, looking at Dalinar, then at Adolin. It was almost as if the king were suspicious of them. The look was gone in a second. Had Adolin imagined it? Stormfather! he thought.

  From behind, Vamah began calling to the king. Elhokar glanced at him and nodded. “This isn’t over, Uncle,” he said to Dalinar. “Look into that strap.”

  “I will.”

  The king handed the strap back, then left, armor clinking.

  “Father,” Adolin said immediately, “did you see-”

  “I’ll speak to him about it,” Dalinar said. “Sometime when he isn’t so worked up.”

  “But-”

  “I will speak to him, Adolin. You look into that strap. And go gather your men.” He nodded toward something in the distant west. “I think I see that bridge crew coming.”

  Finally, Adolin thought, following his gaze. A small group of figures was crossing the plateau in the distance, bearing Dalinar’s banner and leading a bridge crew carrying one of Sadeas’s mobile bridges. They’d sent for one of those, as they were faster than Dalinar’s larger, chull-pulled bridges.

  Adolin hurried off to give the orders, though he found himself distracted by his father’s words, Gavilar’s final message, and now the king’s look of distrust. It seemed he would have plenty to preoccupy his mind on the long ride back to the camps.

  Dalinar watched Adolin rush away to do as ordered. The lad’s breastplate still bore a web of cracks, though it had stopped leaking Stormlight. With time, the armor would repair itself. It could reform even if it was completely shattered.

  The lad liked to complain, but he was as good a son as a man could ask for. Fiercely loyal, with initiative and a strong sense of command. The soldiers liked him. Perhaps he was a little too friendly with them, but that could be forgiven. Even his hotheadedness could be forgiven, assuming he learned to channel it.

  Dalinar left the young man to his work and went to check on Gallant. He found the Ryshadium with the grooms, who had set up a horse picket on the southern side of the plateau. They had bandaged the horse’s scrapes, and he was no longer favoring his leg.