The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  “I must admit, then,” Shinri said carefully. “I am confused. Tethren was a careful planner, your majesty. I find it difficult to believe that he would let his entire convoy be caught in a powerful highstorm, no matter what the circumstances. You wouldn’t know what tradegoods he was transporting, would you? What would be so important to him that he would press on instead of returning for shelter?”

  “The dock register said he was bringing a simple shipment of ceramics from the Lakhenran mudshores,” Amelin replied.

  Ah, so you have researched this, Shinri thought with satisfaction. But, what is it you aren’t telling me, my dear King Amelin? The cover-up was obvious in his eyes and his posture. He was nervous about something, though he kept it in check.

  Time to bargain. “It seems that these are difficult times, no matter where one travels,” she said.

  “Indeed,” Amelin replied. “At least the highstorms are somewhat predictable—far more so than the hearts of men. One never can tell when one’s trusted ally might become a foe. He might even come to wish your death.”

  Ah, so you’ve heard of the assassination plot. And he obviously wanted to hear more. Unfortunately, there was little she could offer him in good conscience—the danger to Jasnah’s brother was far too pressing.

  “I’m afraid I know little of such things,” Shinri said. “I’ve been watching Jah Keved lately. My family is, of course, my foremost concern.”

  Amelin eyed her. “I doubt you can have maintained much familiarity with them, though, seeing as how you’ve lived in Alethkar for the last three years.”

  True, she thought. So, he doesn’t want to hear about the Veden dynasty change—or, at least, he’s correctly guessed that I don’t have much to offer beyond speculation.

  “You are correct,” Shinri admitted. “I have been away from the Three Houses for too long. However, the truth is that I spent as much of it in Prallah as in Alethkar. The war itself proved very interesting, especially in its final days.”

  Amelin paused. “I am a bit curious about that,” he admitted. “I heard some . . . interesting rumors. Something about the death of the Traitor and the Pralir King?”

  Shinri smiled. Bait taken—now she just had to hope what she offered was worth whatever it was he hid. “It happened during a highstorm,” she explained. “The king was on the battlefield, fighting toward a decoy tower. The Traitor led a surprise force in a flanking maneuver, sneaking toward the back of our army, probably to attack our command towers—or even our camp itself.”

  “A cowardly move,” Amelin noted.

  “True,” Shinri said, “but so was murdering his own king, then fleeing to Prallah to hide. One of our scouts noticed the approaching force, and we sent an intercepting army. However, the man who sent the intercepting force did not wait for proper estimates of troop strength or location. He ended up sending five thousand men to face a force twenty thousand strong.

  “When the highstorm passed, King Elhokar led a larger force to intercept. However, he found both armies—the Traitor’s force and the smaller Aleth contingent—dead.”

  “Curious,” Amelin said with a troubled look. “They fought during the highstorm?”

  “Apparently,” Shinri said. “But later analysis led Lord Dalenar to believe that there was a third force involved. One that killed both groups of men, under the cover of the storm, then left the bodies as if they had killed each other.”

  This caused Amelin to frown openly. “That is . . . very strange,” he said.

  “Lord Dalenar thinks the third force came up from Distant Prall,” Shinri explained. “The wild lands there are just a short distance away, and there are numerous malcontents there who were unhappy with Pralir and its king.”

  “But why kill the Aleth force too?” Amelin asked. “It seems very unusual.”

  “It has given Lord Dalenar a great deal of worry,” Shinri agreed. “He is seeking information about who could have raised an army large enough to defeat over twenty thousand soldiers in the space of a highstorm’s passing. He thinks it might be a group known as the Rantah, a collection of former Pralir noblemen who were ousted during the conflicts a decade back. I’m afraid I know little more than that.”

  Amelin nodded thoughtfully. Then he studied Shinri again, his eyes betraying a measure of respect. Even considering her changes in behavior, he obviously hadn’t expected to find a political adept in the place of the outrageous child he had known.

  “You’re very observant,” he noted. “Lady Jasnah trained you well.”

  “Thank you, your majesty,” Shinri said. “Of course, she also trained me to expect those treated with kindness to respond in turn . . .”

  “You’re already better than she is,” Amelin said with a chuckle. “That’s always been her problem, Shinri. She can’t laugh about these things, even slightly. Everything is so serious to her. The mighty, stoic, unyielding Lady Jasnah Kholin. Sometimes a man doesn’t want strength—he just wants a smile.”

  “I saw her smile once,” Shinri noted. “At least, I think I did—it might have been a nervous twitch. Or perhaps she was just stifling a sneeze.”

  Amelin laughed deeply, shaking his head. “That woman . . . I certainly hope that her future husband is a man of sturdy patience. The betrothal is to be announced this evening, is it not?”

  “Yes,” Shinri said. “At the dueling competition.”

  Amelin nodded. He took a breath, sobering slightly. “All right, on with the ‘response in turn’ then. You’re right to suspect Tethren’s death, child. However, I think you’re seeking answers to the wrong questions. The cargo of that convoy is irrelevant. Rather than asking what the ships were carrying, you should be asking what they weren’t.”

  “What they weren’t carrying?” Shinri repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “Your Prince Tethren wasn’t aboard any of those ships,” Amelin said quietly.

  Shinri paused in the hallway, stunned. Stupid! You didn’t even consider that. What of Jasnah’s training now? How could you miss something so obvious?

  “The Rienars threw that convoy together with such speed that it was obvious they were trying to hide something,” Amelin explained. “I was fortunate to have a very clever spy in the port they chose to depart from, and he got himself on board one of the convoy vessels. Shinri, they sunk that ship themselves. They sailed out, knowing ahead of time that they would get caught in the storm. They tried to make it look as realistic as possible, so the sailors would spread the rumor they wanted, but my spy went out during the storm itself. The Rienars scuttled their own ship, leaving it to sink in the storm.”

  Scuttled their own ship. “They wanted it to look like Tethren was dead,” she said. “But why? So they could use him as a spy somehow?”

  Amelin shook his head. “House Rienar is convinced he is dead,” he said. “The sinking of the ship was to cover something else—something about the way he died, though I can’t figure out what. They needed a convenient excuse for a prince of one of the Three Houses to just suddenly disappear.”

  “A sickness would have been far less suspicious,” Shinri said. “Why use such a contrived method?”

  “They would have been expected to display a body if he’d died of a sickness,” Amelin pointed out.

  “True,” Shinri said. “But even still . . . I came seeking answers, your majesty. But what you’ve given me only makes me more curious.”

  Amelin paused, shooting a look behind to where his attendants stood with the Awakener and head stormkeeper. He turned back to her. “This is a . . . difficult subject, Shinri. I don’t know what happened to Tethren, but the Rienar are determined to keep it secret. You might not want to push too hard on this one—I doubt the reward is going to be worth the cost.”

  “Perhaps,” Shinri said skeptically.

  Amelin shook his head. “The Rienar sinking their own ships, the Davar rising up to take the Veden throne, Aleth Parshen hiring assassins to kill their own king . . . Times have grown uncertai
n, Shinri. I don’t trust the world any more, not beyond my own shores. I am going to try to keep Thalenah secure during the days to follow. You are welcome here, if you wish to remain.”

  Shinri paused. “I don’t understand, your majesty.”

  “Refuge, Shinri,” Amelin said quietly. “It will be a difficult thing to find in the near future, I think. Why don’t you stay in Thalenah for a while? I’ll send a message to Lady Kholin; your period of wardship has to be nearing an end, and she is going to be wedded in a few days. She will be too busy to see to your training—perhaps she’ll let you stay here, receive some of the teachings at the New House that you once avoided.”

  Refuge. But, what he offered was more politics. Did he ask out of concern for her, or out of desire to have leverage against both Lady Jasnah and Lord Talshekh Davar?

  No, she told herself. You can trust this man.

  But she couldn’t stay anyway. “Not now, your majesty,” she said, shaking her head. “Lady Jasnah needs me too much right now.” Besides, I need to know what happened to Tethren. He wasn’t on the ship. Your spies say that the Rienars think him dead, but what if . . . It was a frightening thought. She had loved him, once, as a child. What would she think of him now?

  “Besides,” she said out loud. “I think you may be overreacting. The issue with Jezenrosh is dangerous, perhaps, but it will soon be resolved. There may be conflict ahead, but it will be nothing compared to what we already endured in Prallah. Alethkar won that war with ease—it can overcome a few internal squabbles.”

  “Ah, child,” the king replied. “The Prallah war was but a breeze to the highstorm that is coming. And most houses aren’t ready for it—their glyphwards aren’t out, and their windows are open. Destruction will come with the winds.”

  Shinri frowned, looking up at the kindly man who had welcomed her as a child, and would now do the same for her again. How could she explain? If there was a storm coming, then Shinri needed to spend it at Jasnah’s side.

  Jasnah frustrated her. Others saw the woman as heartless, and at times Shinri agreed. Jasnah was never complimentary, ever critical, and always manipulative. But Jasnah was the only one who had been able to take the child Shinri and give her the gifts of propriety and education. Only a will that powerful, a temperament that unprovokable, had been strong enough to make Shinri change. After the death of Shinri’s mother so long before . . .

  The truth was, Jasnah was really all she had. All she had ever had.

  “I must go back,” she said.

  The King sighed, standing. “Very well,” he said. “Just watch yourself, once-little Shinri. Dangerous times are approaching. Our Oathgate may not be open in the coming months, but if you can find your way here, I will provide what safety I can.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.”

  Amelin stood, watching the young girl leave down the hallway, heading for the Oathgate. He shook his head. It was already beginning—first Vedenar, with the war of the houses, and soon Alethkar. The world was changing.

  He turned to his companions. “Well?”

  Red-eyed Zezrik shook his head. “She is no Awakener. She sensed nothing of the Melody, and she wears her jewelry without regard. Without love.”

  Amelin nodded. That had been his last guess, though it had been a farfetched one. Still . . . “Perhaps not an Awakener, but she’s of the right age, and of one of the right lines.”

  “So are a lot of people,” Devai said. “We tested her when she was here four years ago, your majesty. There is nothing unusual about the child.”

  “Yes,” Amelin said. But, so much had been lost with the fall of the House of Truths, and there were things for which they knew no tests. “Very well. What of her purpose here in Thalenah? Do you think she was spying for Jasnah or for her cousin Talshekh Davar?”

  “Hard to say, your majesty,” Devai said. “Did she give any hints to you?”

  Amelin shook his head. “She covered herself well. She implied she was here to investigate the death of Prince Tethren, of House Rienar. It is a good story—perhaps even the truth. She was engaged to the man, after all.”

  “A political betrothal,” Devai said. “Made when she was just fourteen. She came through the Oathgate furtively, without announcement or notice to you, then entered the city without attendants or litter bearers. That is very suspicious behavior. Do you think the Aleth might suspect what we do?”

  Amelin shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “There might be a few onyxseers in Jah Keved . . . but Alethkar? We have heard nothing.”

  “Which could mean that their security is even greater than our own.”

  A frightening thought. “Come,” Amelin said. “We have preparations to make.”

  chapter 24

  Taln 5

  “This one’s different, Lhan,” Sapphire Jan said, leaning against his staff as he watched the muscular madman work. Jan had been foreman of the First City’s cromcleaners for going on twenty years, and he had seen many types of men. So many, in fact, he’d assumed he knew just about every type of worker the Almighty could provide. It appeared that he had been wrong.

  Brother Lhan turned with an unconcerned eye, rising from his work on a building’s wall to regard Taln. The supposed madman worked with fastidious care, chipping cromstone off of a stone waymarker. Even from the first day, the man’s work had been perfect—every corner and crack cleaned, no hint of sloppiness.

  Sapphire Jan had seen that before. Men that fastidious, however, also tended to be shy. Quiet types, who never spent time talking with the other workers. Even if they were more outgoing, their quick, efficient work quickly ostracized them from the others, who didn’t like being made to seem lazy.

  This man was different. Jan’s eyes narrowed as he watched Taln smile at a passing worker, exchanging pleasantries and a joke, then go back to his work.

  “What do you mean, Jan?” Lhan said.

  “Look at him,” Jan said. “Look at the way he works. He’s not like the other ones you’ve brought me—he actually does the job.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the workers I provide,” the husky monk informed.

  “Now, don’t get huffy,” Jan said with a snort. “I don’t mind helping out a man of the Almighty—I could use few good deeds under my cloak. I’m never displeased when you bring by one of your projects—I just expect them to need some . . . extra supervision. This one, he almost doesn’t seem crazy.”

  “Almost,” Lhan said, dusting off his gloves, which were covered with rock chips. Whenever the monk brought a new worker, he always spent the first few months working the streets as well. Lhan claimed he wanted to get away from the monastery, but Sapphire Jan saw the gentle patience in the monk’s attentiveness. His wards were rarely the best workers—though not through fault of laziness. They just tended to get distracted or be a bit slow. With Lhan’s guidance, however, they usually found a place among the cromcleaners.

  “Are you sure he’s . . . ?” Jan asked. “I mean, he just doesn’t talk like the others—or even look like them. He seems like a regular man, and a good one at that. He does four times the work of my best worker, never seems to need to rest, never makes a mistake in his cleaning, and is easily the best-liked man on the team.”

  Lhan shook his head. “I wasn’t certain at first either,” he admitted. “But . . . you’ve heard him talk.”

  Sapphire Jan nodded. He had indeed. In fact, that was the problem—the only problem. A lot of the men on his teams weren’t the brightest gems in the pile. They were foreigners who hadn’t come from civilized lands, or men who couldn’t get jobs as craftsmen or servants. When Taln had first started talking, the men had laughed. Now, however . . . well, Sapphire Jan could see the looks in their eyes. Before long, the madman would have the entire team believing he was some kind of heavenly servant.

  “I don’t like it, Lhan,” Jan admitted. “I’m sorry to the Almighty, but I just don’t like it. You’ve brought me men who wander off in the middle of thei
r shift, men who sit and clean the same patch of stonework for hours and hours without looking up, and men who never say a word, just stare into space. I never worried about any of them. This one . . . he could be trouble. I even find myself half-believing him. If he ever wanted to cause trouble, I worry that these poor lads would listen to him.”

  Jan clinched his jaw in thought. He’d earned the nickname ‘Sapphire’ early in his career. The stories gave all the Polestones personalities, and Jan was most certainly a sapphire—stubborn, demanding, and in charge.

  “He has to go, Bother Lhan,” he decided, fingering his glyphward and hoping the Almighty would forgive him. “If he could learn to be quiet, it’d be different. But we both know he won’t ever stop this nonsense about the Return. I can’t have the man on my team. I’m sorry.”

  Lhan nodded. “That’s all right, Jan. I’ll just have to find another place for him.”

  Sapphire Jan shook his head, turning away as the monk removed his gloves and wandered over toward the working Taln.

  In three thousand years of life, there were relatively few things that Taln had not tried. Cromcleaning, interestingly, was one of them.

  He knelt on the stone, using a small metal tool to clean the crusty cromstone out of the carved cracks of a waystone—a street marker that gave directions to various parts of the city. Cromcleaning was a curious sign of the three peninsulas. The Elin had been surprised by the lack of crom on buildings when they had come for the First Return. They had assumed that people would just let it build up.

  That, however, had been long, long ago. Taln shook his head, using the edge of his tool to scrape the softer cromstone from the granite etchings. He barely even remembered what it was like to live in a land where the rains didn’t drop muck that eventually hardened to stone. Crom could be cleaned off with ease. His own problems were not so easy to repair.

  It was not easy for him to remain ‘quiet.’ The Khothen were coming, and something was very wrong. Epellion Sourcing didn’t work, not even his own. This time there would be no Windrunners or Stonewards to respond to the demonic assault. Mankind stood on the brink of its own destruction, and no one even realized it.