Taln nodded, trusting Kemnar’s judgment. Taln himself was practically
useless at pathfinding. While Kholinar and a couple of older cities remained where they once had, the general landscape of the kingdom had changed
430
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
greatly in the nine hundred years he had been gone. He had only been able
to explain the general location of the mountain exit, and they had been
forced to strike out uncertainly. Only finding a town or major intersection would tell them exactly where they were.
Kemnar led the way. As they had traveled, Taln had come to trust his
original impression of the man. Kemnar was competent but humble, curious
but unassuming. He seemed to be completely unconcerned with rank or
privilege, an odd quality in a nobleman. In fact, he had proven strangely
more comfortable with the simple people of the troop, despite his lordly
heritage. To a Herald still uncomfortable with the devotion he was paid,
Kemnar’s attitudes were unspokenly familiar.
The town lights were still in the distance when Kemnar spoke quietly,
a slight smile on his lips. “Lady Jasnah’s going to be displeased when she finds out we investigated without going back to report first.”
“You don’t seem all that concerned about her displeasure,” Taln noted.
Kemnar’s smile widened. “If we went back, she’d just order us to visit the town anyway. This saves time.”
Taln raised an eyebrow, walking around a particularly large rockbud.
“The lady certainly is fond of control ing her surroundings—and the people in them.”
Kemnar chuckled, but Taln hadn’t intended the comment lightly. During
his travels the last week, he had often questioned the oath of obedience
he had given Jasnah. Why had he agreed to such a thing? It wasn’t that
Taln chafed at letting another lead—in fact, he usually preferred to leave decision-making to one of the other Elin. Jasnah, however, knew so little
of what was really happening in the world—she was only concerned with
getting word of the invasion to her brother. In addition, her methods
were annoying. While she wasn’t a tyrant with her power, she also seemed
incapable of trusting a man to do his duty properly. She had to be involved in every detail of their work, and had to control practically every decision they made.
Only two things kept him from leaving to seek the Holy City on his own.
Foremost was the peaceful knowledge of his brethren’s location. Before, he had felt lost and uncertain—worried that something had happened, and
that he was alone to protect mankind. Now that he knew that the other
Heralds had gathered, his tension relaxed and the fires of defeat retreated.
Jezrien, Prael, Nale, Chanaral, Ishar . . . these were men far wiser than
himself. Though his own efforts this Return had been ineffectual, the
others would have matters in hand. He could afford a slight diversion, even
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 431
suffer Jasnah’s commands, if it would build friendship and indebtedness
with the leaders of Alethkar. When he joined the other Elin, he would be
able to deliver that much, at least.
His second reason for staying was a matter of honor. He felt a responsibility to the people he had helped rescue. The palace servants looked up to him—
he could feel their growing respect; and while their devotion made him
uncomfortable, he knew that he should encourage it. These ones would
spread knowledge of the Return and prepare the common people of Aleth-
kar. He would not betray their budding dependence on him by leaving
them to the desolation of summer highlands.
“You know,” Kemnar said after a few moments of walking, “she’s not
really as bad as you think.”
“Jasnah?” Taln asked.
Kemnar nodded. “She’s a bit overbearing, I agree, but at least she cares.
That’s more than I can say for most of the nobility in Alethkar. Lady
Jasnah . . . she just tries a little too hard, I think.”
“She is fortunate to have a man such as yourself fol owing her,” Taln noted.
Kemnar chuckled wryly. “Not for much longer, it appears.” He tapped
the oversized pack on his back—duffel-wrapped with two poles sticking
out the side, it ostensibly held a tent. The two Shardblades within were
too obvious to carry in the open, yet neither man would consider leaving
them behind. The pack was awkward, and a little strange, but it was the
only alternative.
“She says that since I’m a Shardbearer, I’m too high a rank to be a common bodyguard. I should have never accepted the blasted thing—now that I
have a Blade, everyone’s going to expect me to start acting respectable.”
Taln shrugged, thinking of his own Blade. Since they had no opals, both
weapons had begun to revert to Blanks, and their length had shortened
slightly. Taln wasn’t accustomed to the process—he had never really been
forced to bond a Blade before.
It bothered him how easily Meridas had bonded Glyphting, erasing
the familiar patterns that had lined its blade for millennia. Instead of the elegant efficiency of Taln’s touch, it had become the stunted, straight-backed weapon Meridas seemed to prefer. Chanaral had hypothesized that the Elin
Blades, if adulterated by an imperfect opal, would act the same way as the imitation Blades crafted by Epoch Kingdom weaponsmiths. He had been
right—Meridas had been able to bond Taln’s Blade as if it were nothing
special. Losing his Blade to such a man . . . it felt like an invasion to Taln, a perversion.
432
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
Taln shook his head, glancing at Kemnar’s pack. At least he had a Blade.
It was no Glyphting, but it would have to do, for now. In truth, human-
crafted Shardblades shouldn’t even exist. Though the legends claimed
otherwise, Taln’s brethren had never intended mankind to have access to
Blades. Ishar claimed it was one of the great mysteries of time that men,
so innocent and unskilled in the Three Arts, had managed to craft such
impressive imitations of the weapons they had seen their Heralds wielding.
Shalesa had been the one who spread the rumors that the weapons
had, indeed, been gifts of the Heralds, granting them some measure of
control over the development. Still, Taln doubted that men understood
the meaning of the Blades they wielded. To them, the weapons were
simply another tool—a powerful one, true, but still just a tool. They saw
a Shardblade as a trophy to possess and exploit, not a chip from one’s
very soul, a link to both nahel and lhel. None of the Heralds took the opportunity to explain the difference—it was bad enough that mankind
had the weapons. Almighty protect the world if they ever found out the
true power locked within those Blades . . .
“She’s fond of you, you know,” Kemnar said.
Taln cocked an eyebrow. Kemnar was still on the topic of Lady Jasnah.
“I doubt that,” he replied. “More frustrated than fond, I would say.”
Kemnar shook his head. “She likes people who are a bit odd—they interest
her. She could have chosen practically any Aleth nobleman of lesser rank
to lead her guard. She could have had brilliant duelists, keen strategists, or could have at least made clever alliances through her choices. Instead, she picked me and . . . Nelshenden.” He paused quietly f
or a moment when he
said his friend’s name. During the last week, Taln had pried from Kemnar
the true events surrounding Elhokar’s departure. The truth had only given
Taln one more reason to someday find a way to duel Meridas.
“Anyway,” Kemnar said, “she chose us. We were hardly the finest
swordsmen in Alethkar, and our political connections . . . well, lets just say that in my case, she’d been politically better off before she chose me. I have something of a reputation in court. Nelshenden wasn’t much better.
A man as simply honest as himself earns a measure of respect from his
peers, but Nelshenden was no Dalenar. He didn’t have mighty deeds or a
firm, commanding air to back up his ideals. Most court members found
him self-righteous and disapproving. In a way, he was even more excluded
from their ranks than myself.
“And yet, we were the two men Lady Jasnah chose to lead her soldiers.
Despite all her manipulations at court, when it came down to her own
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 433
guards she chose men she could trust.” He paused, eyeing Taln. “And I
think she trusts you. Or, at least, she would, if . . .”
“If I weren’t insane,” Taln said
Kemnar laughed, clapping Taln on the shoulder. “None of us are perfect,
Taln.”
They fell silent as they walked. Ahead, the city was getting closer
in the night. Hopefully they would arrive before the taverns began to
close. Kemnar walked quietly at Taln’s side, alert and watchful despite his conversational attitude. This was a man accustomed to slinking through
darkness and watching for foes—another attribute Taln would not have
thought to discover in a Kanaran nobleman.
The town was relatively large for an outlying, non-lait village. Taln
suspected it augmented income, and therefore population, by trading across the Riemak border a short distance away. Eventually, the two men passed
through hillsides free of rockbuds and other vegetation, though their feet scuffed the remnants of inavah stalks. The bulbous grain-providing plants
would have been harvested in preparation for the coming mid-summer
highstorm. As they drew closer to the city, Taln was comforted to see that they weren’t too late—at least a half-tenset taverns shone brightly across the city.Architecture appeared to have changed little in the centuries he had
been gone. Simple stone dwellings were the norm. Here, away from the
prettiness of Ral Eram, many of the buildings had been al owed to grow over with the minerals dropped by highstorm rains. Over the years, countless
winters filled with almost unceasing rains had caked the buildings with
sheens of rock not unlike those created from drippings inside caves. The
transformation made the structures look less like man-made creations and
more like things that seemed to have grown up as natural hills. Stalactites dripped from overhangs, and more ancient structures almost resembled
melted piles of wax.
Kemnar smiled, pausing at the base of a hill a short distance from town,
standing so his body would not be silhouetted against the night sky. “My
father is lord of a city not unlike this,” he noted. “On the southeast corner of the kingdom. Despite the layout of the buildings, this could have been
the very place I grew up.”
Taln nodded. “What are the current customs regarding travelers? Will
anyone note our visit as irregular?”
“Oh, they’ll note it,” Kemnar said. “Strangers are always noticed, my
friend. But will it be unusual? No, not likely. Most communities like this
434
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
depend on trade to survive—they’ll need the leathers and metals their
parent city produces with its Awakeners. The war will make people edgy,
but I doubt travel will cease. Wandering duelists, monks, and craftsmen
will still pass through. Families looking for a new city to settle will often visit— The Way of Kings promises them Right of Travel.”
“What’s our story, then?” Taln asked.
Kemnar paused for a moment, looking over their outfits. “A pair of
men-at-arms,” he decided. “Traveling back to our lord’s city after performing a task. Not noblemen, but moderately high-ranking peasants—Third
Citizens. You have that knife you took off the dead nobleman?”
“Of course,” Taln said, revealing the long-bladed knife.
“Make sure to display it prominently. It’s the sort of thing a high citizen would wear—it’s short enough to be considered still a knife, but long enough to almost be a sword. We’ll be expected to have spears or, more likely, axes, but could have left those behind with our packman. Our story is that we
stopped for refreshment and news, but intend to press on through the night and next day before we stop for the Bellow. Our home city is Spiremount,
our master Fourth Lord Khranshel. Our task is no one’s business.”
Taln nodded.
“And . . .” Kemnar added hesitantly “you might want to let me do most
of the talking. That accent of yours will be fairly recognizable here, close to the border. We could explain it away, but I’d rather not draw attention.”
Taln frowned, but nodded again. Despite the man’s friendliness, Kemnar
obviously regarded Taln as Jasnah did—a lost wanderer from Riemak,
addled in the head. Jasnah had yet to commit to a final course for the
refugee group, but Taln was growing increasingly eager to travel through
the western land to the Holy City. Beyond searching out his brethren, this would let him see this area that everyone assumed was his home.
The city turned out to be Marcabe, a Sixth City tributed to Ralinkan.
They were admitted through the city gates on Kemnar’s story. Though the
hour was late, the taverns were still quite busy. Kemnar explained that
because the harvest was in, there would be little for the town’s men to do the next day, and no reason for them to rise early. In addition, the town
inns would be full of people who had come to the city to seek shelter from the Bellow. Taln and Kemnar walked leisurely through the town, and Taln
noticed not a few city guards watching at intersections, keeping a wary eye on both townsfolk and newcomers. The city even had a monastery, though
it was too dark and too distant to tell which order practiced within.
Kemnar picked a tavern with moderate occupancy. It was a wel -kept, but
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 435
out of the way, place that lay several streets off of the main thoroughfare.
Taln wasn’t certain how Kemnar knew where to find it, yet the nobleman
seemed to have little trouble—he simply glanced at where the other main
taverns were, and then struck off the central thoroughfare and walked
directly toward his chosen location. The tavern was an older building, its sides slick with cromstone. At first glance, its outside appeared to have
been abandoned to the elements, but on closer examination Taln noted the
uniformity of the stalactites, and how the cromstone curled inward around
the windows, allowing for unobstructed sunlight. The doorway was also
well-maintained.
Inside there was a surprising amount of wood furniture. Apparently, the
Aleth managed to maintain a stable Awakening economy even far from
their capital. With the right Awakeners placed beside working quarries, the cost of emeralds could be off-set by the ease of transporting wood instead of stone. The result was a substance that, while rare in natural
occurrence, was nearly as cheap as good building stone.
The structure’s layout was unfamiliar to Taln. Instead of traditional
Kanaran pillars, the tavern had been built with enormous wooden support
beams in the ceiling, allowing for a more open atmosphere. A large stone
serving bar ran down the exact center of the room, with an opening down
the middle for the barkeep to serve drinks. Men sat upon stools on both
sides, talking amongst themselves. Nearly all the lanterns in the room
burned along this central bar, and there were more secluded, darkened
tables lining the walls. Kemnar shunned these, making directly for a pair
of stools at the bar. He set down their pack, pulled out a couple of glazed sapphire chips to buy drinks, and waved for Taln to sit beside him.
Taln eased into the seat, mindful to keep his tongue as the barkeep
brought their drinks. The mugs were metal, though they had obviously
been crafted from clay first, then Awakened. The barkeep himself was
a short man with Aleth coloring. Despite his size, he had a wiry build and a no-nonsense glare that reminded one to be mindful of causing trouble in
his bar. None of the patrons seemed inclined to disobey. There was an air of hesitant relaxation about them. As Taln listened, he was able to pick out tensets of conversations, his Herald’s mind instantly dividing the voices
one from another and following the different discussions.
The men were relieved that the harvest had come in well—insects had
been found inside the first polyps of inavah harvested, the grain eaten or spoiled from water leakage. Fortunately, the vermin hadn’t gone far, and
the general harvest had been a success. The monastery—Order of Ishar,
436
BRAND ON SANDERS ON
interestingly enough—had planned a feast in honor of their good fortune,
and it was to take place on the day after the Bellow. Following the feast, the people would repair their city from the highstorm, then begin preparations for the summer planting, which had to be ready twenty days after the
Bellow—the day when normal highstorms began again.
For now, however, there was rest. The harvest had finished early, leaving
the men with nearly two weeks of freedom before the Bellow. Most had
Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01] Page 60