The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  Lhan smiled. “Oh, there are plenty of places we haven’t been kicked out of yet.”

  Taln chuckled. “Lady Jasnah wanted me to promise to stay out of trouble for a couple of weeks.”

  “Maybe she’s got a point,” Lhan said. “You yourself said that you’re not sure what to do next. Maybe you just need to relax for a little while, and let it come to you.”

  “What?” Taln asked, amused. “Relax by going and working in the mines like the monks keep telling me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure we could find something better for you than that. Maybe work in the monastery, or even this one. If you spend enough time working on their floor mats, maybe they’ll let you pick up a spear and spar every now and then.”

  Taln eyed the lackadaisical monk. Lhan continued to speak, talking in his lazy way about the virtues of floor mat repair—paying no mind to the fact that he’d complained about that very thing shortly before.

  He sent for Jasnah, Taln thought, finally understanding. “I’ve misjudged you,” he said out loud.

  “Excuse me?” the monk said, pausing.

  “I thought you were lazy,” Taln said.

  “Oh, let me assure you, I’m quite apt at it.”

  “This whole time,” Taln said, “you’ve just been waiting for me to get frustrated. You’ve been following me around, letting me get myself thrown out of nearly every place we visit, waiting for me to fail so many times that I got bored with it.”

  Lhan sat quietly for a moment. Then he shrugged. “I always want to do things the easiest way possible. I’ve found that men rarely like to be told what they can’t do. So, I just let they try it. You’d be surprised at how many ‘crazy’ men simply wanted to try things their own way for a little while before settling into what the rest of the city had planned out for them.”

  “And if they don’t settle down?” Taln asked.

  “They do,” Lhan said. “Eventually.”

  “That could take time,” Taln challenged.

  Lhan shrugged. “Sometimes months, sometimes years. It doesn’t really matter to me, as long as they don’t get themselves hurt and they keep me from washing dishes.”

  Taln cocked his head, regarding the brown-robed monk in a new light. “How many crazy people has the monastery assigned you?”

  “Oh, a couple,” Lhan said. “Sometimes, people just need a friend, Taln. I’m not good at very many things—as my divinely annoying brethren can attest to—but being a friend . . . that I can do. It doesn’t cure anyone; I don’t think most of them can be, or want to be, ‘cured.’ But I can often find a way to make life a little less difficult for them.”

  “That’s very noble of you.”

  Lhan snorted.

  “Admit it,” Taln challenged. “You’re a good monk.”

  “Say that again, and you’ll see how ‘good’ I am,” Lhan said, standing up and brushing off his robe. “Come on—I’m hungry, not to mention tired of lying around in the sand.”

  Taln nodded, joining the monk as they walked out of the gates. One thing still bothered him, however—Lady Jasnah’s insistence that he ‘stay out of trouble.’ She had seemed so . . . anxious, despite her calm air. Almost like something was coming . . . an event she didn’t want him to disturb?

  “Lhan,” he said idly as they strolled away from Spearhome, “is anything special happening in the next two weeks?”

  “What?” Lhan asked. “You mean besides the dueling competition?”

  “Dueling competition?” Taln asked.

  “You haven’t noticed that the city is abnormally packed with travelers?”

  “Lhan,” Taln said with a raised eyebrow. “The last time I saw Ral Eram, the Oathshard Wars hadn’t even started yet. I have no idea what a normal population is.”

  Lhan rolled his eyes. “Duelists from all over Kanar are coming to the city,” he explained. “The king is holding a royal dueling competition, with Blades and titles as prizes—he has to do something with all those cities he stole from Pralir.”

  Royal dueling competition. Taln remembered something . . . something vaguely from his first day in Ral Eram, when he had burst in upon the king’s feast. Take his Blade . . . Add it to the pile of those to be won at the competition . . .

  His sword, Glyphting—it would be given away at the dueling competition. It would be there, unclaimed, waiting for a new master . . . or an old one.

  Taln smiled broadly. “Lhan, I think you might be right,” he said. “I need some time to think. Let’s spend a few weeks weaving mats and staying out of trouble. I want the Lady Jasnah to forget I’m even here . . .”

  chapter 19

  Shinri 3

  Lady Shinri:

  You ask nothing we ourselves haven’t wondered a tenset times over. Why would the Almighty take my brother now, when times are so difficult in the Three Houses? Why did he have to be lost in such a way, without even the honor of a battlefield death or failed duel? These are questions of theology—things for monks and stormkeepers to ponder, not women such as ourselves. Our duty is that of consolation and preparation. Now that Prince Tethren has been taken, we must give strength to those who still live and protect them as best we are able.

  However, in answer to your specific inquiries, you will soon see that there was little of mysterious note about my brother’s death. His convoy did not leave Lakhenran precipitously at all—rather, care was taken to depart directly following the tenth Mar-Kav highstorm, a well-acknowledged day of fortune for sea travels. The trip to Thalenah was planned so that each of the more violent highstorms could be spent within the shelter of cove or port.

  The events, therefore, of my brother’s death are a matter of ill fortune, but not ill planning. During the third day of the open-sea voyage to Thalenah, one of the ships was struck by a problem with its rudder. I know little of such things, but have included a technical explanation of the problem, as recorded by one of my scribes who questioned the captain.

  It was soon obvious that this ship could not reach Thalenah in a timely manner. My brother, however, was a man of honor—as you well know—and refused to leave the straggler behind. He determined that the best course was for the entire convoy to wait out the storm, and made orders to that effect. Unfortunately, seaborn highstorms are a fierce and unpredictable force. It turned out that my brother’s flagship, not the ship with the structural problems, was the one that succumbed to the Almighty’s winds.

  The other sailors in the convoy did not, as you implied, simply sail away and leave Prince Tethren to his maritime grave. They spent days scouring the waves for survivors, picking apart wreckage and praying to find their prince yet alive. The Almighty, however, granted them no miracle. The sailors were forced to leave the area and sail for port, lest they be caught in yet another storm.

  I have included copies of testimonies taken from various crew-members, as well as copies of the dock registers and docking schedules both from the port of departure and that of expected arrival. I​ am confident that studying this evidence will set your heart at ease regarding the tragic events of my brother’s demise.

  I understand your hesitance—you are Veden at heart, and it is the nature of our people to hope and wish. In this matter, however, you must learn as I have. Hopes for Tethren’s survival will only prolong the pain of mourning.

  Lady Shendaran Rienar.

  Shinri set the letter aside, looking over the accompanying documents. They were, of course, in order. Though the captain’s explanation of the ship’s difficulties made little sense to her, she had little doubt that it was unimpeachable. The other testimonies were both clear and consistent.

  It was, of course, all fabricated.

  Shinri sat for a quiet moment, ‘evidence’ spread before her on one of Lady Jasnah’s sitting-room tables. The letter was exaggeratedly defensive. The evidence was too abundant, and too freely offered. Shendaran was far too quick to assure that the death lacked mysterious elements, especially considering all the questions she chose not to answe
r. Why would Tethren endanger an entire convoy for one ship? Why didn’t he move the crew from the beleaguered vessel to another ship, then sail safely to port?

  Did Shendaran really have so low an opinion of Shinri’s political skills that she would use such obvious tactics? Did she not realize that her quick assurances that nothing was wrong would only provoke Shinri toward unwanted conclusions?

  Shinri reread the letter. And, as she did so, an awareness grew within her. Shendaran wasn’t trying to be obvious. To most women in Vedenar, such a letter would be considered an adequate response. Shinri, however, had been trained by a far better master.

  Even as she read, Jasnah’s lessons poked at her mind. This word was misplaced, that assurance offered too hastily. The text was like a puzzle with irregular pieces—any one of the clues, by itself, was unremarkable. However, the whole—when arranged correctly—displayed a picture. Shendaran was hiding things. She herself didn’t know the details of her brother’s death, and she was trying very hard to cover up that ignorance.

  Jasnah really is good at this, Shinri realized. Her training has become so innate to me that I can easily deconstruct the intentions of one of Vedenar’s most prestigious politicians.

  Shinri knew about Jasnah’s skill, of course. One did not live with the Lady Jasnah Kholin for three years and not learn to admire her genius. However, Shinri had always been involved in plots that did not directly concern her—Lady Jasnah’s goals, Lady Jasnah’s will. It was a different thing entirely for Shinri to see Jasnah’s hand manifest in Shinri’s own goals.

  But, what does it mean? Shinri thought. You never did like me much, Shendaran—never did forgive the little girl who jealously ruined your sitting party by running through in a mud-drenched dress. Is that why you lie to me now, out of simple spite?

  Shinri idly pulled at the edges of the fine, scented paper, ripping off circular pieces as she thought. Shendaran didn’t like her, true, but the elements contained in the letter were too extensive to have been fabricated for one woman. This was a response that had been given before—probably to both political rivals and allies. House Rienar wanted it known that Tethren’s death had been an unfortunate accident, and nothing more. That meant they didn’t want people poking too closely at the events of the convoy’s loss.

  But why? Ignorance was not so grievous a sin that it would inspire such a cover-up. True, all houses had things they wished to hide from their rivals, but it would require something of direct relevance to force such extremes.

  The convoy’s cargo? The transportation of delicate materials would explain the quick cover-up. It would also explain why the cargo had been transported by ship, rather than through the Oathgates—though the official explanation was the avoidance of Aleth tariffs. However, if the cargo were the secret, what of Tethren? Was his death a simple accident, as stated, unrelated to the cover up?

  Perhaps there had been a mutiny. Rumors of a prince of the Three Houses being killed by common citizens could be dangerous to morale. Jah Keved was organized far more martially than Alethkar, and such a loss of command would be a grave embarrassment to House Rienar. What if one ship’s crew had taken the prince captive, then been sunk by the rest of the convoy?

  Shinri shook her head at the extravagant speculation. She didn’t have enough information to begin imagining complex mutinies or deep cover-​ups. She had only a small set of lies, perhaps just cosmetic in nature. Though Lady Jasnah was capable of making wild logical connections with very little information, Shinri didn’t have her experience or intuition. Shinri would have to dig further, as she had been taught. Write to Rienar’s political rivals, sniff for rumors regarding the convoy, see if Tethren had made any odd alliances or enemies during the last six months.

  It would take time, but it felt . . . strangely invigorating. Shinri rolled up her scraps of torn paper, idly flicking them across the room. She had worried about purpose. Well, she might not have the passion for intrigue that Lady Jasnah boasted, but at least she was beginning to discover her own political goals. She no longer felt the powerful loss of Tethren’s death—it had become more the latent ache of a promise unfulfilled, a pathway unexplored—however, searching out the truth of his death felt right to her. She would never serve as his scribe and wife, seeing to his political interests, but she could give him this one last offering.

  I should have been more suspicious, Shinri realized with amusement. I would have thought that living this long with Jasnah would have made me paranoid too. It had taken the questions of a madman to spur her curiosity. Yet, for that questioning, she found herself strangely indebted to the man who called himself Talenel the Herald.

  The door opened, and Jasnah swept into the room—perfect in bearing, beauty, and poise. Shinri flicked a wad of paper, then hurriedly replaced her left sleeve and put her hands in her lap. If Jasnah noticed, she said nothing. Kemnar and Nelshenden entered the room after their mistress; the two guards were often with her now, kept close and involved in protecting the crown.

  “What is that?” Jasnah asked, waving toward Shinri’s stack of papers.

  “Nothing, my lady,” Shinri said, folding the letters. “Simply another list of condolences sent regarding the prince’s death.”

  Jasnah nodded. “See that you answer them all respectfully, Shinri. Your wardship will end soon, and you will need allies in order to make another union for yourself.”

  Shinri nodded. I’m sorry, Jasnah, she thought. But if you knew the truth, my investigation would become yours instead. You do not become involved unless you can control. Tethren was my fiancé. I will find out what happened to him.

  Letters of condolence made a good excuse. They were something Jasnah would understand and encourage, for they saw the prince’s death in the same way that Jasnah did: as a political inconvenience to be smoothed like any other bump in one’s plans. Jasnah herself had offered little in the way of sympathy. In this, despite their years together, Shinri knew that she and Jasnah would never understand one another. Love—romantic love—was something Shinri doubted that Jasnah would ever be able to comprehend. Jasnah would encourage discovering House Rienar’s secrets for political gain, or even to sate curiosity, but she wouldn’t understand doing so out of duty to a man one had loved. And, Shinri had loved Tethren, even if the emotion had been that of a foolish young girl.

  Shinri glanced up, unconsciously seeking Nelshenden. There he stood, eyes plain with the sincerity of an honest and honorable man. He stood in his place, waiting beside Jasnah’s chair, a position he bore not just out of duty, but out of love as well. Sometimes, seeing the pain in his eyes was too much for Shinri to endure, and she had to flee.

  Jasnah ignored the man, as usual. She conferred quietly with Kemnar, whom she had always found more useful. Though there was nothing between them, of course. Kemnar was far more like Jasnah—devious, capable of compromise, and efficient. However, he was fond of common women—the citizens he met in bars or on the street.

  The two schemed while Nelshenden stood slightly apart, wishing he could find a way to earn Jasnah’s respect and love, but knowing somehow that no matter what he did, he would only find her disapproval. Shinri knew that feeling well.

  “Shinri,” Jasnah suddenly said. “I need you.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Shinri said, tucking her letters into her left sleeve pocket and rising to join her mistress.

  “What do you know of recent events in your homeland?” Jasnah asked.

  “Very little, I’m afraid, my lady,” Shinri said. “I have been busy with events here in Alethkar.”

  Jasnah frowned. “Kemnar informs me that times are tempestuous in the Three Houses.”

  “Times are always tempestuous in the Three Houses, my lady,” Shinri replied. “But Kemnar is correct. From what I’ve heard, recent events are even more troubling than usual. My far cousin has raised an army against his kinsmen. While it wouldn’t be the first time one House took arms up against another, it does appear that this might be more than th
e typical border dispute or retribution for a caravan raid.”

  Jasnah glanced at Kemnar, then sighed. “I can’t watch everyone in every kingdom,” she said in an almost grumbling voice. “But a war on our southern border is hardly something that can be ignored. Shinri, perhaps you should deliver your responses to those letters in person.”

  The implication was clear—Shinri was to visit her contacts in Veden City and gather what intelligence she could. The command was not unwelcome—the Rienar cover-up was likely linked to the constant struggles between the Three Houses. Perhaps she could serve multiple purposes with a single visit.

  “Yes, my lady,” Shinri said. “It has been too long since I last paid my respects to King Ahven, anyway. I should have visited long before.”

  Jasnah nodded, waving her away and immediately moving on to other plots.

  The Idiot King sat pleasantly upon his throne. He nodded happily at those who approached him and bowed to pay their respects. His clothing matched his smile—rich, yet somehow lacking regality. Matched with the man’s vapid eyes and innocent smile, the bright clothing seemed childishly gaudy. A waste of coin and silk.

  Ahven obviously knew nothing of his looming death. It hadn’t taken Shinri much time to assess the situation—though her contact with her homeland had been sparse during the last few years, the Vedens were a far more open people than their Aleth cousins. In addition, news of Talshekh’s approach was hardly a secret topic. Her distant cousin had finally gathered the forces, and the courage, to march on Veden City. He came to conquer—soon a new House would sit on the throne.

  It had only been a matter of time. House Vedenel had allowed itself to grow too weak, a disease manifest by its figurehead of a king. Poor decisions, a lax military, and fallen trade contracts had left the once-virile House with barely enough power to maintain the city, let alone its armies. Though forces were being gathered, allies being called upon, it was highly unlikely that House Vedenel would be able to raise an army large enough to resist the conqueror.