The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  Taln accepted them all into his training sessions, despite Meridas’s protests that their group was growing too bulky. Lhan suspected, however, that the nobleman had received very definite orders not to turn anyone away.

  Lhan also suspected that he had been the only one who saw the musing, devious glint in Lady Jasnah’s eyes on that first day, when the mercenaries asked for the ‘Herald’s Army.’

  chapter 58

  Jek 9

  Jeksonsonvallano, Truthless of Shinavar, didn’t have to sneak to get into the fallen city of Crossguard. King Elhokar’s guards barely gave Jek and his group a passing glance. The ease of the passage was almost insulting.

  Jek had been born into the tradition of his Clan, trained how to misrepresent himself from the day he could walk. As a child, he had been required to adopt different personas before being given his evening meal—he would spend one day as a lord, the next as a beggar. He learned the stance of the soldier, the air of the craftsman, the step of the entertainer, and the humility of a holy pilgrim—practicing each mannerism so carefully that changing personas eventually came as naturally to him as putting on a different cloak.

  All of this was wasted in the east. The Crossguard soldiers needed see only his Shin features before waving him into the captured city. The only Shin that came to the east of their own choice were members of the merchant clans, and these were the only Shin most Kanarans had met. Jek needed only the most perfunctory disguise to be believable.

  A waste.

  Jek ordered his ‘servants’ forward with a barked command—spoken with an intentionally strong Shin accent. None of the easterners would realize that his normal accent was far too light to belong to a visiting merchant, of course, but Jek wasn’t about to let their ignorance spoil a good disguise. Still, he knew that if he did ever manage to get back his Bondstone and return to Shinavar, his skills would need some serious refinement.

  Jek’s men—a group of ten solders who had been chosen for their packman-like appearances—moved forward at the command, carrying large packs on their backs. Jek stood, ostensibly overseeing their progress through the gate. His eyes flickered to the sides, however, doing a quick head count of soldiers on the city walls.

  There were fewer men than he had expected. King Elhokar had obviously won Crossguard quickly, but he had done so at a great price. Ahven’s spies had estimated Elhokar’s army at forty thousand strong before the assault; including the men camped outside, Jek counted barely twenty five thousand remaining. A heavy toll indeed, though Crossguard had obviously suffered worse.

  The massive gap in the city wall stood as a testament to King Elhokar’s corruption. The city-goers—both soldiers and townspeople—tried to avoid looking at the crumbled structure. Even they knew that the Holy Powers were not supposed to be used in such a way. Yet Elhokar’s desecration had won the day—and Jek doubted any other Kanaran leader would have done differently. Honor was simply a word to these people; when the time came to test their devotion, beliefs crumbled faster than the Crossguard stones. This was not the first time Awakeners had been used in battle, and it would not be the last.

  Other than the wall, however, the city was remarkably hale. King Elhokar was not so much a fool that he would allow the looting of his own city, and the people obviously knew this. While there was a strong military presence in Crossguard, the common citizens bustled about their business as if their local aristocracy hadn’t just been purged in a bloody assault.

  In fact, Jek suspected that Crossguard was even busier this day than normal. Armies were good business; there was a reason Jek had been allowed into the city so easily. Now that the fighting was through, merchants from across the region would be flocking to Crossguard to relieve the soldiers of their battle pay. The city taverns—of both the lord and the citizen variety—were likely full every night, and the local whores busier than usual.

  Jek shook his head, stepping forward to trail after his ‘packmen.’ Something bothered him about the troop arrangements, but he couldn’t quite decide what. It had been nagging him ever since he had first counted numbers while passing the camp on his way into the city. There was something . . . odd about the way the camp was arranged.

  Unfortunately, while he had been trained to imitate a soldier, he actually knew very little about tactics or armies. He would need to gather more information, and bring it back to those who could properly interpret it. Most importantly, he needed to discover King Elhokar’s plans. Fortunately, Jek had access to a resource that was often as informative as any spy or secret informant.

  “There,” Jek commanded, pointing toward a large, if unimpressive, stone tavern built alongside the street ahead. A few gems given to a passing merchant on the road outside had given Jek the location. Every city had its preferred mercantile gathering places, most of them unofficial. If a man didn’t have the skill necessary to discover the location, then he probably wasn’t a good enough merchant to bother trading with.

  The packmen stayed outside, as they had been ordered previously. They set down Jek’s ‘goods’ in a pile, then arranged themselves around to guard, similar to several other caravans’ worth of packmen along the street. A few barmaids moved among the groups, selling drinks from the tavern.

  Jek stepped into the building alone. It didn’t take the tavern patrons long to give him a collective dark look—one quickly covered up by accommodating faces. Kanarans resented the Shin sense of superiority in the same way a child resented his parents’ freedom and control. While few merchants would willingly pass up dealing with their Shin counterparts—the sale of rare Shin goods was a very lucrative market—fewer still were respectful in their transactions.

  “Friend!” a voice suddenly called, as if to directly contradict Jek’s thoughts. “Here, drink with me. Barkeep, bring this man some good wine!”

  Jek paused, careful and suspicious. The speaker was a tall man, not broad of chest but definitely broad of voice. He was waving enthusiastically toward Jek with one hand while at the same time gesturing toward a barmaid with the other.

  Jek approached carefully, and the man actually reached out and clapped him on the back with a familial hand, then gestured toward a seat at his table. The man appeared to be dining alone.

  “Do I know you?” Jek asked.

  “Never met me before in your life,” the man said, shooting a glare at the barmaid and increasing the speed of his impatient gestures. “However, whatever you’re selling, I want to buy it.”

  Jek hesitated. “What makes you so certain?”

  “You look like a suspicious type,” the man said. “You really should try to get over that. Bad for the health, all that worrying. Sit, sit. Barmaid, where is that wine!”

  Against his better judgement, Jek allowed himself to be forced into the seat. The man, finally convinced that the barmaid wasn’t ignoring him, slid down into his own chair.

  “Why are you so eager to work with me?” Jek asked again.

  “You know, you people shouldn’t be so grim all the time,” the man said. “That’s why no one wants to work with the Shin—or, that’s what I think. Don’t people smile over there on the first peninsula? Or do you all just sit around and scowl at each other all the time?”

  Jek gave the man a pointed scowl, an action that prompted a guffawing laugh.

  “Explain yourself or I will find another table,” Jek said.

  The man leaned forward, giving Jek an intense look and pointing with a firm gesture. “Guess how many times I’ve worked with Shin merchants.”

  “I really have no idea,” Jek said flatly.

  “Twenty-three times,” the man said, speaking with his hands as well as his voice. “Twenty-three business deals. I count these things. Every good businessman should. Now, let me ask another question. Guess how many of those deals went sour? None. Guess how many times I got cheated. Not once. You people are honest as stones, and if the other merchants don’t want to work with you, then I say let the storms take them. I’ll deal with any
Shin who passes my way, that’s certain. Devon Lhale never passes up a good deal, and you, my friend, are the best deal in town. I know that already.”

  The man punctuated his remarks by occasionally slamming his fist against the table, each blow rocking the three different mugs that held his drinks. The barkeep delivered Jek’s wine, and she got a wink and a pinch from Devon. Jek watched the exchange with dissatisfaction as he tried to read his companion. It seemed incredible, but he could detect no falsehood in Devon’s mannerisms. If the boisterous attitude was an act, then it was one that could fool even a trained Shin assassin.

  “So, what is it?” Devon asked. “What are you selling? You people never buy—I know that. It’s always about what you can sell, as if our goods weren’t good enough to take back with you. You know, I’ll bet that’s why people don’t want to deal with the Shin—you make them feel like Kanaran goods just aren’t worth your time, which we both know is ridiculous. You really should work on that.”

  Jek paused. His Aleth was good, but he was less practiced at it than he was at Veden. Following this man’s conversation was a task unto itself.

  “I . . . see,” Jek said slowly.

  “So?” Devon said. “Goods? What are they?”

  “Boots,” Jek said. “I have a hundred pairs with me as a sample, and could have a thousand here within three weeks. I need a retailer.”

  “Boots, eh?” Devon asked, rubbing his beardless chin. “Shin work, I assume? Yes? Good craftsmanship, those. You people really need to teach some of our people how to make them as good as you do.”

  “It’s not in the art,” Jek said, “but in the materials. We don’t desecrate the Holy Arts to get our leather, but instead tan it from livestock.”

  “You see, there you go again,” Devon said, pointing. “I love you people, but you really have to stop making excuses. Awakened goods are the same as non-Awakened, and that is the truth. But I suppose if you want to keep your secrets, that’s your business. Three weeks, eh? That’s too long, friend. Never can tell what will happen in three weeks . . .”

  Jek perked up immediately, sensing something in the merchant’s attitude. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “King Elhokar’s army doesn’t appear to be going anywhere soon. His kingdom just suffered from civil war—he’ll need to stay here for a while and maintain order.”

  Devon shrugged with an exaggerated motion. “I’m just saying . . . Well, you would do well to be a little less curious. It’ll only give you worries, I say.” He paused, glancing at Jek with eyes akin to those of a performer demanding applause.

  “If I’m going to work with you,” Jek said, taking the prompt, “I’ll need to know what you know.”

  “Well, since I know you’ll keep quiet with it . . .” Devon said with an eagerly conspiratorial air.

  “Of course,” Jek said.

  “You see, friend,” Devon said with an amazingly quiet voice. “There’s another army coming here, to Crossguard. The king’s forces might not survive another three weeks.”

  Another army. Jek kept his shock from his face, but on the inside he cringed. Ahven’s forces had been discovered. Well, it had only been a matter of time. But why then wasn’t King Elhokar running? Ahven’s army was nearly twice the size of the Aleth force. Elhokar had time to retreat, moving to the west to gather troops to his cause. Surely the lords who had been reticent to take arms against Crossguard wouldn’t be so restrained concerning a foreign invader.

  “Yes indeed,” Devon whispered. “When the Tyrantbane is done with dear King Elhokar . . . well, I plan to be gone from Crossguard by the time he arrives.”

  Jek froze. “The Tyrantbane?” he asked. “Dalenar Kholin is on his way here?”

  Devon nodded. “I have it on very good word. The king’s mobilizing his forces for battle again, but I doubt he’ll last long against Lord Dalenar. Should have never executed the Parshen’s son, that’s what I say. Bad idea, that.”

  Dalenar Kholin. That changed things drastically—more drastically, even, than if Elhokar had discovered Ahven’s army. Had Lady Jasnah reached Kholinar, then, or was Dalenar’s coming a coincidence?

  “Don’t know why I’m telling you these things,” Devon said, sitting back in his chair. “Guess it’s because you’re Shin. Good people, you are. Never lie, that’s what I’ve been told. I sure know I’ve never been cheated by one of your kind.”

  The thing was, Devon was probably telling the truth. Shin merchants did not break their word; they followed Truth, and it declared that only the lower Clans—the warrior clans, those who ruled to serve—could kill, lie to, or hurt another man. It was doubly sinful to cheat an innocent or a child—and easterners counted as both.

  Jek’s mind kept returning to Lord Dalenar’s impending arrival. Ahven would want more information—numbers, if possible.

  “How many?” Jek said. “How many in Lord Dalenar’s force?”

  “I really couldn’t say,” Devon said. “My source doesn’t even know that. For some reason, there’s been some confusion amongst the king’s scouts. I’m surprised nobody discovered the Tyrantbane’s army sooner. True, it’s moving quickly—without towers or Chulls—but it got within four day’s march of Crossguard before anyone brought word of it.”

  That’s because Ahven’s death parties are riding the main roads, killing anyone they see—especially messengers on horseback. For a time, at least, information in Alethkar was going to be very slow to travel. Elhokar could be dead before the noblemen on the far side of the country even knew that Alethkar had been invaded.

  “This information troubles me, friend Devon,” Jek said honestly. “I think I shall retrieve my goods and bring them here anyway, however. After all, Lord Dalenar’s army is going to need boots too, eh?”

  Devon laughed. “That’s true. You Shin are always so pragmatic. You know, you really should try to loosen up more sometimes. That’s probably why people don’t want to work with you—you’re always so stiff. Always working. But, if you’re bringing the boots, we might as well arrange a deal. I’ll watch for you in town when you return. Promise me you won’t sell them to anyone else until you find out if I’m here or not!”

  “Of course,” Jek said. “But I must be going, now, to make arrangements.”

  “Good, good,” Devon said. “I’ll see you another time, then, friend. Remember your promise—of course, I don’t need to tell you that. I’ve never met a Shin who lies!”

  You just did, Jek thought, standing.

  chapter 59

  Jasnah 13

  “How long until it hits?” Jasnah asked worriedly, looking up at the darkening sky.

  Taln shook his head. “Two hours, maybe a bit more.”

  Jasnah nodded. The Searing was over; highstorms would fall again. She shivered slightly. The Riemak highlands weren’t as cold as those of Pralir, but she did not look forward to the soggy chill of highstorm rains—not to mention the fury of its winds. This storm wouldn’t be anything like the Bellow, but on the highlands in the middle of summer . . . it would be bad enough.

  “I’m almost sad to see them start again,” Jasnah said.

  “I’m not,” Taln said. “I’m amazed we’re not dying of thirst as it is, considering that.” He waved his hand toward their growing army.

  Despite its ragged and disjointed nature, Jasnah had to smile at the size of the force. Several larger mercenary companies had tracked them down, and that addition, mixed with the increasing numbers of refugees, put their force at nearly eight hundred strong. Admittedly, that number contained many who had barely a week’s worth of training beneath Taln’s tutelage. Still, they were of hardy Riemak stock, well-aquainted with fighting and their weapons, even if they didn’t have formalized knowledge of formations or battlefield tactics. It was a varied group—mercenaries mixed with farmers, Herald believers with men who just wanted the thrill of battle—but Taln was quickly working to change that, making them into a cohesive force.

  What had begun as a refugee band had become
a fighting force of significant size. Now if she could just get them to her brother in time. The army continued to maintain a good speed, despite the increased size. Even if she had stayed with the originally-planned group of seven, she doubted they could have been more than a few days ahead. It would be worth the delay to deliver an army instead of just a warning—assuming they arrived while there was still a war to fight, of course.

  Unconsciously, she glanced toward the east. Toward Alethkar.

  “Worry less about your homeland,” Taln said, “and more about how you’re going to feed all these men.”

  Jasnah looked back toward the camp. Some of them had brought their own provisions, but they all obviously expected to be fed for their time. The mercenaries wanted something more substantial than just food, of course, though many of them were desperate enough to accept promises of coin once they reached Alethkar—but before they fought—as long as their stomachs were filled. She had hunting groups gathering what they could from the land, but boiled cromlins were only barely palatable, and rockbuds were notoriously foul-tasting. The hunting parties occasionally captured a whitespine or, on blessed occasions, a wild pig. However, the highlands weren’t good for hunting, and the size of her army was too prohibitive to expect it to live off the land completely.

  That left . . . “There,” Jasnah said, pointing at the returning Kemnar, who was walking with several scouts. “He’s announced our presence to the town leaders. We can go to trade now.”

  Taln raised an eyebrow. “And how much coin do we have left?” he asked.

  “Enough,” Jasnah said. For a little while, assuming we sell Meridas’s fine clothing and jewelry. He had not been happy about that little command, and had insisted on keeping at least two outfits and a couple of rings. Still, his contributions—along with some more of their dwindling horse funds—should be enough to keep the army fed for another two weeks. Barely long enough to reach Kholinar, if there were no more delays.