“Why have you come to Galevan?” the guard called down.
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“My man has explained our desires already,” Taln yelled back. “Open
your gates so we may trade with your merchants.”
There was a pause. Finally, the man called down again. “We’ve changed
our minds,” he said. “We don’t want your trade, nor do we need you
stealing our soldiers when we have few enough to defend ourselves. Be on
your way, False Herald. We’ve seen your kind often enough.” A second later, the man continued, as if in afterthought, “And don’t think to threaten the siege of our city. We’ve counted your numbers. Eight hundred troops can
hardly think to threaten a walled city—especially when those troops are
as poorly equipped as yours.”
Beside her, Meridas’s expression darkened, as if an insult against the
troops was also one against him. Jasnah just sighed to herself. It wasn’t
the first city they’d been turned away from. For every person who seemed
willing to accept Taln’s claims, there were the more rational thousand who saw through him. Apparently, the tempestuous Riemak countryside was
no stranger to men claiming Heraldship as a means of gathering fame and
troops.
She turned to go. Taln remained where he was. “Choose from among
yourselves your five greatest warriors,” he called up to them, “and send
them down here.”
“We already told you,” the wall-top man said, “you will find no recruits
here!”
“No recruiting,” Taln said, jamming his Shardblade into a nearby boulder.
“Just a challenge. I will fight them all at once, and do so without a weapon.
If they defeat me, you may have my Blade.”
Jasnah raised an eyebrow. This part was not expected—apparently, Taln
had decided to improvise.
The guard laughed. “You expect me to trust your word?”
“How often does a town like yours get an opportunity to win itself a
Shardblade,” Taln called back, “even if that opportunity is dubious?”
This brought pause. Finally, after some debate from those on top, a rope
ladder was thrown over the side of the wall, and five spear-wielding men
descended and approached Taln, suspicious of a trap.
Within thirty heartbeats, all five lay on the ground, groaning to them-
selves. The guards atop the wall were silent.
Taln whipped his Blade from its boulder sheath and pointed it at the
guards. “You think I need an army to take your city?” he demanded in a
loud voice. “Stone and wood are no obstacle to a Blade, and I have two
other Shardbearers at my command. You think we couldn’t brush past
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 539
your fortifications like a storm through a paper glyphward? You think we
three alone couldn’t slaughter your entire defensive force? I come not for my good, but for yours! Death comes one year from the day of my Return.
Barely six months remain. Forbid me or accept me, I care not, but know
this. You are warned!”
Silence. Then, finally, the gates clunked and crept open. Jasnah shot
a triumphant, self-congratulatory smile at Meridas. The nobleman had
watched Taln’s exchange with eager eyes, hoping—she knew—that the
madman would overextend himself and fall with a spearhead in his gut.
Now, Meridas suffered her subtle mockery with dignity. He had complained
against Jasnah’s insistence that their force become the ‘Herald’s Army,’ but he had not disobeyed her. He knew a good opportunity when he saw one.
Despite his deceptively mundane appearance, Taln had a . . . momentum
about him. Where he strode, rumors sprouted, and where he fought, respect
was gained.
The city only had one inn, and it was here that Jasnah implemented the
second part of her well-tested plan: she put Taln on display. She gained
him a conference with the city leaders—a group of three merchants who
control ed the water in the summer, the shelter during storms, and the walls at all times. She made certain that Taln’s discussion with them happened
in the common room with open stormshutters and plenty of curious ears.
Taln explained his purpose, telling them of the Return and the other
nonsense his mind had contrived. However, since he absolutely believed
what he said, his words carried weight despite their ridiculous nature. That honesty, mixed with the display at the gates, was sure to make Galevan
one of their more successful city visits. Jasnah smiled to herself as she
tallied up expected recruits. Smaller cities than this had yielded tensets of men. They could probably expect a good fifty soldiers from Galevan itself, and the rumors its people spread would bring even more from outlying
communities.
She must have appeared too gleeful, for once the conference was fin-
ished—the merchants returning to their homes for the night—Taln sought
her out to have his ‘talk.’ He came to her room—one of three gifted by
the innkeeper to his prestigious guests—completely unconcerned with
etiquette or decency. He barely even paused to knock before he entered.
Jasnah yelped quietly as he opened the door, jumping up to throw a cloak
over her nightgown. Taln shut the door behind him, his face distracted.
Only then did he noticed Jasnah’s disheveled blush, and he paused, hand
still on the doorknob.
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“Have you no sense of propriety?” She demanded, flustered as she seated
herself back on the stool beside her dressing mirror, pul ing her cloak closed at the top to hide the exposed flesh beneath. “Bursting into a woman’s
rooms at night, far past modest hours?”
Taln stood for a moment, as if stunned by something completely un-
expected. Then he blushed deeply and looked away. “I . . . apologize,” he
said. “It has been a very long time since I have had to consider such things.”
Jasnah snorted. “For an immortal deity, you certainly can be remarkably
dense sometimes, Taln.”
He smiled wanly, but didn’t make any moves to leave, so she settled
herself on the stool as if she were in her audience chamber back in the
palace. Behind her, the room’s stormshutters rattled from wind and rain.
The highstorm had finally hit. Back in the camp, the regular men were
about to spend a very damp evening.
“If you don’t consider ‘such things,’” Jasnah noted, “then I assume this
is not a social call?”
Taln nodded, not bothering to take a seat. “You’re using me,” he said.
“I don’t like it.”
Characteristically blunt. “And how, exactly, is it that I am using you?”
she asked.
Taln raised an eyebrow. “Don’t play at your games, Jasnah. I’ve noticed
how Meridas holds back and lets me speak. I realize how you place me at
the forefront when we visit these towns, how you encourage me to speak of
my purpose and my mission. I know how you send newcomers to gawk
at me during training, how you encourage visitors and townspeople to
spread the word of the ‘Herald’s Army.’”
“And?” Jasnah asked. “You have a problem with these things? I thought
you wanted to warn the land of its danger. Are you not pleased with the
attention yo
u are receiving, and the control you have been granted?”
“By Kevahin, Jasnah!” Taln snapped. “This land isn’t your court, to be flirted and manipulated. We’re not dealing with balls and squabblings over ranks! These are people, Jasnah, not political prizes. Good people, who’ve lived hard lives, and now you’re enlisting them to march to their deaths.
You don’t care about my cause—you still think I’m insane! You just want an army you can bring back to show off to your traitorous king of a brother.”
Jasnah stiffened at the attack. “I don’t see what it matters to you,” she
said coldly. “You get what you desire—a population warned of the Return.
I get what I need—soldiers to aid my homeland in its defense. Where is
the argument?”
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 541
Taln leaned down, looking her in the eyes. “One thing politicians never
seem to understand is that intention matters. It matters to these people, it matters to the Almighty, and it matters to me. I will not gather this army under false pretenses. Better they remain here, warned, than they come
with me and die in Alethkar, leaving their families undefended.” He stood, his expression dark. “I will not be your puppet any longer. I had hoped we could discuss this, but I should have realized better. You and I can never
‘discuss’ anything.” He turned, reaching for the doorknob.
“I’ll take you to the Holy City,” Jasnah said.
Taln froze. Outside, the tempestuous highstorm raged, but in her room
there was only silence.
“We’ll go there,” Jasnah said. “The entire army. Despite the diversion
and the wasted time, we’ll go—just like you want. No broken oaths, no
abandoned soldiers.”
Taln stood, hand gripping the knob. Finally, he turned. “Must every-
thing be a deal to you, woman?”
“Yes,” Jasnah said quietly.
Taln stood, staring at her with dark eyes.
“Oh, sit down, Taln,” she said with exasperation. “I can barely think with you looming over me like that.”
He sighed, letting go of the knob. He didn’t bother to find a stool, he
simply settled himself on the ground, leaning with his back against the door.
“It is a good offer, Taln,” she said. “If your brethren are actually there, gathered in Jorevan as you claim, then we can deliver them an army trained and ready. These last few months won’t have been wasted at all. If they
aren’t there, then you’ll have to reassess your goals. You can hardly face the Stormshades without an army or a center of operations. But, with Alethkar
stable and free of invaders—and with my promises of aid—you can go about
your preparations without further hindrance. Either way, you are better off than if you decided to leave us now and start over in another kingdom.”
Taln sighed again. He sat for a moment, as if listening to the rain strike stone outside. Finally, he spoke. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I am who I say that I am?”
“Because I’ve seen proof to the contrary,” Jasnah said. “The Sign refusing to work. You have flawless—if accented—use of the Aleth tongue despite a
supposed thousand years in abscentia. You display an inability to give any display of power, divine or otherwise.”
Taln shook his head. “Those aren’t your reasons, Jasnah. You may see
them as validations, but they aren’t the core of your doubt.”
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“Oh?” Jasnah asked. “And what is?”
“Your disbelief in the Almighty,” Taln replied simply.
Jasnah paused. She hadn’t expected him to be right. “I’ll admit,” she said,
“that my skepticism of his existence doesn’t exactly encourage me to believe in his divine servants.”
“What happened?” Taln asked. “What happened that could make you
so determined not to believe?”
“Why do people always ask that?” Jasnah demanded. “They act as if
there were some catastrophic event in my life that made me reject God, as
if I were turning my back on a distasteful bowl of soup. It’s not like that, Taln. Nothing ‘happened’ to me. Why do the other people believe in the
Almighty, other than that they’ve been taught to do so since they were
children? What ‘happened’ to them?”
“Surely there must be reasons,” Taln said.
“There are,” Jasnah said. “But it’s the entire concept—not just one or
two facts, not just a bad experience—that disturbs me about Vorinism.
The idea that morality is based on some external, all-powerful being makes me uncomfortable. The monks teach that all goodness comes from the
Almighty. One of them actually told me that without the Almighty, there
is no reason for goodness in men, for the Dwel ing and eternal consequences provide the only equalizing pressure upon the souls of men. Don’t you see
how insulting that is? They imply that there can be no inherent good in
people, that we depend on fear of retribution to keep us doing what’s right.
To them, anyone who doesn’t agree to their moral superiority is damned.”
“I see,” Taln said quietly.
“The Almighty provides an escape,” Jasnah continued. “A means of
avoiding responsibility. If we do what he supposedly wants, then we don’t
really have to worry about learning right and wrong for ourselves. By
contriving for ourselves an external source of truth, we’re left to be carnal and wrong, as long as we’re ‘striving’ to Remake ourselves as the Arguments teach. It also allows the monks to have an absolute monopoly on morality.
They get to decide what is good and what isn’t, since they speak for the
Almighty. The rest of us have inferior, even defective, souls that are in need of their repair.”
“I . . . see,” Taln repeated thoughtfully.
Jasnah sat defiantly, preparing her counter-arguments. He would find
that no matter what holes he tried to poke, she had plugs long-formulated.
She’d had countless discussions with Ralmakha and other theologians,
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 543
and none of them had been able to give any solid defense to her attacks on their religion.
“It must be hard to live, not believing in anything,” Taln said.
Jasnah raised an eyebrow at the unexpected path. “I don’t find it so hard.”
“Don’t you?” Taln asked, sounding genuinely inquisitive. “Your brother
betrayed you, the other members of your family are all dead, and you have
no god to rely on. What is there left for you?”
The words hurt more than she would ever give him the satisfaction of
admitting. “I have Alethkar,” she finally replied. “And I will do anything to protect it, Taln. I’ll use these people, I’ll even exploit you. My kingdom is all I have left.”
“Intentions,” Taln mumbled. “That one, at least, has some merit.” He
sighed. “We will go to the Holy City, and I will continue your charade. But, assuming you are right, and these people end up fighting for Alethkar, you will care for them. Give them homes inside your kingdom, and send for their families to join them. You will give them a better life than these harsh lands.”
“Of course,” Jasnah answered honestly.
Taln rose. Behind her, the winds had grown still—the highstorm had
passed. Taln nodded once, looking oddly tired, then left. She walked to the door, watching his back as he traipsed down the stone hallway to the room
he would share with Kemnar. There was nobility in belief—even delusional
belief. That much she could admit, even admire, though she wou
ld never
have it herself.
“Enjoy your tryst?”
Jasnah jumped in startlement. Meridas stood in the shadowed corridor
that led to the common room, watching her unseen. He stepped into the
light, glancing after Taln, smiling—no leering—slightly. “Tell me, Lady
Kholin. What is it like, bedding a god?”
“You insult my honor,” she hissed.
“Oh, come now,” Meridas said. “You make such claims standing there,
your cloak half-open, your undergown more flimsy than the wind, your
hair mussed from your lovemaking? The entire camp knows how you look
at him, and he at you. It must be terribly inconvenient not having any tents in which to plan your . . . diversions.”
Jasnah pulled her cloak tight, realizing just how much she was revealing,
and blushed. She tried to think of a response. What did he mean ‘how you
look at him’? She did nothing of the sort. Unfortunately, she realized how things must appear at the moment.
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“We are people of . . . understanding, Jasnah,” Meridas said, strolling
forward. “I care not what you do—I only care for the political union. But, do try to keep your relations with our dear Herald a bit more subtle. For
the sake of propriety, I will have to claim you were a virgin on our wedding night.”
Jasnah thinned her eyes. He claimed he didn’t care, but she could tell
that he was lying. He was jealous . . . very jealous. She could see the anger flash in his eyes when he mentioned Taln, a seething hatred that she finally understood. He assumed she was seeing Taln behind his back, and had
assumed it for some time. Meridas was usually so good at hiding his emo-
tions, but she could sense his jealousy even through his uncaring façade.
And, for some reason—despite what she thought of Meridas—knowing
of his jealousy made her feel a little bit more confident.
He dispelled that emotion quickly. “Do not forget that you are mine,”
he said in a low voice. “For now, I allow your playing. But when the time
comes, when our union is sealed, I will allow no further dalliances. Do not embarrass me, Jasnah.”
He was not jealous because he cared for her, he was jealous because he
saw another man possessing something that belonged to him.
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