THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 631
himself. Aneazer would make a move, Jasnah was certain of that. Until he
did, she would simply push onward, hoping that the uncertain enemy ahead
would prove more agreeable than the known enemy behind.
Taln did not return. Jasnah found herself watching southward more and
more, her tension growing. She told herself she was being foolish. Whatever Taln had done, it had obviously slowed the enemy army greatly—slowed
it enough that even Meridas’s distant-roving scouts caught no sight of it.
Such an impressive event would not be accomplished without price. The
delay had cost his life. He would not be returning. It was foolish to sit and dote with worry.
And yet, Lhan’s raw assessment of her personality remained vivid in
her memory. She had been called paranoid before, and had dismissed the
allegations. Usually, the same people who referred to her in such a way
ended up depending upon her foresight. For Lhan to describe her as a
woman without belief, however . . . as a person frightened by hope . . . left her feeling sick. What would it mean if Taln did return? Did she always
have to expect disappointment?
His continuing absence—along with that of the army he had gone to
stop—bred rumors from rumors within the camp. As the days passed, and
it became less and less likely he would return, some claimed the absence
as an obvious sign that he had never been a Herald. Others claimed that
the disappearance of the Veden army was instead proof of Taln’s obvious
divinity. Still others supposed that he was testing them to see who would
remain loyal and who would desert. The more rational part of the soldiers
pointed out that it didn’t really matter where the supposed Herald was, as long as the Veden army went with him.
Some dared whisper that there never had been a Veden army, attributing
Taln’s disappearance to his desire to flee the camp for some untold reason.
Jasnah dismissed this supposition with ease. It was possible that Nachin
had lied about the existence of a Veden army, but the scouts would not have.
Besides, Taln and Kemnar would have quickly discovered the truth if there
was no army. Their continued absence meant at least one thing—they had
found someone to fight.
Someone to kill them, a piece of her whispered. And still, perhaps as a stubborn response to Lhan, she told herself to continue hoping. To keep
looking southward. To expect the best, even if she had to force herself to do so. Taln would be her test.
Three days from the Holy City, a messenger appeared and demanded
to be taken to the army’s leader. Without thought, the guards took him to
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Meridas—and Jasnah was not invited to their conference. Meridas assumed
Taln dead, a fact that lent him new levels of arrogant presumption, and Jasnah’s place in the group had been regulated to that of the protected and coddled woman, fiancée of the general. Fortunately, Lhan was one of the few
people in the army who could read, and as such he was allowed into the
conference in case the messenger brought a letter. The monk later told her that the messenger had come in warning, giving Meridas an opportunity
to withdraw from Lord Aneazer’s land, lest he face retribution. Apparently, Meridas’s response had been less than respectful.
Jasnah considered giving into Meridas’s demand that they not go to
Jorevan, but turn and head to Alethkar. Even if she did allow herself a bit of forced hope regarding Taln, she did not doubt that going to the Holy
City was going to be dangerous. Her men could not face a trained enemy on
its own—she would have to fold it with more seasoned troops once they
reached Elhokar’s main army. She still wasn’t certain how they were going
to persuade a tyrant not to destroy them.
Several things kept her from turning the army around. First was the fact
that Aneazer had sent them a messenger. A man more confident about his
chances probably wouldn’t have bothered with a warning—that meant that
Aneazer was at least a little worried. He couldn’t know how inexperienced
Jasnah’s troops were; perhaps he saw only their numbers, and didn’t relish fighting them. Perhaps he would let them camp near his city and await
Taln’s return.
However, even if Aneazer didn’t attack, her second reason for continuing
would come into play. They couldn’t turn around—they didn’t have enough
food to reach Kholinar. In fact, their supplies wouldn’t even last them to the Alethkar border. The small fortune she had requisitioned in Marcabe
had been expended, the last few gems spent in a town two days back. Soon
their resources would be gone.
And once that happened, Jasnah had no idea what she would do. They
rode toward the fortified stronghold of a ruthless despot, they had lost their unifying leader and finest warrior, and they were almost out of food. In
the face of such challenges, Jasnah found hope illusive indeed. Lhan could preach all he wished, but the facts were grim. At best, she would have to
disband the army, giving each man a bit of food to last him on his own.
She didn’t know how she herself was going to reach Kholinar.
Hopefully, the messengers we sent from Marcabe reached Elhokar, she thought one depressed evening. For I’m certainly not going to get to him in time to bring word.
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 633
“Talenel’Elin! He who is called Stonesinew! The Soldier, the Eternal
Warrior! He appeared to you, to us, and gathered us!”
The speaker was an older man, clothed in a dusty red sencoat and a pair
of trousers that might have once been white. He wore a beard, which was
far more common in the wilds of Riemak than it was in Alethkar, and
carried a spear that bore some traces of ornate trim. His wide nose was
flared with passion, his eyes wild as he spoke before a crowd of soldiers in the evening darkness.
“I hear some of you whisper that he has abandoned us,” the old man
called, “but this is an obvious falsehood. We know the Heralds are always
with us, as the winds and the stones themselves. He traveled with us for
a short time, for it is promised that the Heralds must Return on occasion.
Indeed, you heard him warn of such things! He came to gather an army,
which he did. We are His, to do His duty.”
“Who is he?” Jasnah asked quietly. She stood with Vinde at the periphery
of the gathered crowd. The would-be prophet had drawn a fairly large
group, at least a hundred people. He stood beside a bonfire of his own
making, though Jasnah didn’t remember requisitioning him any of their
precious wood supplies.
“He calls himself Janelken, my lady,” Vinde explained.
Jasnah raised an eyebrow. The name meant ‘Gift of the Heralds.’ She
didn’t recognize him, but there were now many faces in the army that
she didn’t know.
“He claims that before Talenel left, he granted Janelken his mantle of
leadership,” Vinde explained quietly. “He claims to be able to hear the
words of the Heralds on the winds, and says it is his duty to speak for
them. He hasn’t gone so far as to claim that command of the army should
be his, but . . .”
“He probably isn’t far away from it,” Jasnah said. “You were right to bring this to my attention.”<
br />
“You would have heard of him soon anyway,” Vinde said. “I didn’t realize
that he had gathered such a following.”
Jasnah frowned. Kemnar would never have let the situation come so
far—he would have dealt with this Janelken quickly, the moment the man
even displayed a potential for treason. Vinde, however, was not Kemnar.
At least the man had the presence of mind to recognize the danger. If this self-proclaimed prophet convinced enough of the Elinrah believers to support him, he could conceivably overthrow Meridas’s command regardless
of title or Shardblade.
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Jasnah gritted her teeth at what she had to do next. She could not quiet
this man on her own, not now that he was so popular. Or, at least, without Kemnar she couldn’t do so as quickly as was required. She would have to
do something unpleasant.
“Come,” Jasnah said. “We need to bring this to Lord Meridas’s attention.”
Meridas had acquired himself a tent a few towns back. She didn’t know
what he’d traded for it; she certainly hadn’t given him any gemstones. He
hadn’t thought to get one for her—though he had mentioned with a leering
smile that she was welcome to come and ‘share’ it with him any time she
wished.
Two guards stood at the tent’s entrance, and they watched her approach
with wary eyes. They reflected Meridas’s newest method of subverting her.
His oath required him to follow her commands, but only in as much as she
could give them to him. If he barred her entry to his presence, she couldn’t make him do what she said. The guards straightened their postures as she
stopped in front of the tent. She could easily read their orders from their faces. She was not to be admitted.
“Tell Lord Meridas,” she said loudly, almost shouting, “that I command
him to let me see him.”
The men flushed at the idea of a lady ‘commanding’ their general. Jasnah
stood back, folding her arms, waiting. The guards made no move to relay
her message, but that didn’t matter. After several heartbeats, an annoyed
voice came from inside the tent.
“Let her enter,” Meridas snapped.
Jasnah smiled. Even dishonest Aleth noblemen considered themselves
honorable, a fact which she had exploited on more than one occasion.
The guards parted as Jasnah brushed past, though they didn’t give Vinde
leave to enter behind her. The inside of the tent was lit by a single lantern burning a weak flame. At least he understood the need to conserve. The tent itself was hardly lavish, without rugs or cushions—only the thick Shennah
walls. Meridas himself sat on a barrel, using one of the emptied pullcarts as a ‘table’ upon which he studied Kemnar’s map of the landscape.
He looked up as she entered. His clothing was showing signs of misuse.
For the first time, she realized how grateful she was for Taln’s instance
upon her practical clothing. Her sencoat and trousers, designed for travel, were sturdy and colored to mask stains. Now that water for washing was
more plentiful, she had been able to keep them clean and in good repair.
Meridas’s once-fine outfit, however, was well-worn. Though seasilk was
hearty, several of his tassels were torn, and the cuffs of his trousers were
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 635
frayed. The bright red color highlighted the cromstains from highstorms
and from sleeping on the ground.
“Well?” Meridas asked with annoyance. “You realize your little display
outside is going to weaken morale. It won’t do good for the men to see their commander bowing to the whims of a female. Hopefully they will just see
it as a man indulging his betrothed.”
“You left me little choice,” Jasnah said, folding her arms and rebuffing his scorn. “I had to see you. There’s an Elinrah prophet in the camp preaching that he’s the real leader of the army.”
Meridas waved a dismissive hand. “I know,” he said, turning back to his
map. “Is that all?”
“Well? What are you going to do?” Jasnah asked.
“About the prophet?” Meridas asked. “Nothing. You may go.”
Jasnah clenched her jaw. “You will lose control, Meridas. I have little
fondness for your leadership, but letting you command is better than giving the army up completely. You have to move to counter this man—discipline
him publicly, perhaps even execute him.”
Meridas shook his head. “The man is irrelevant. We will reach Jorevan
soon.”
“All right,” Jasnah said. “And what do you plan to do about that? What do we do if Aneazer attacks? The scouts report flat landscape ahead,
giving us little opportunity for cover. If Aneazer has archers, then we’ll need to—”
Meridas held up a hand, silencing her with a suffering glance. “It is under control,” he said.
Jasnah flushed. The implication was obvious—if he didn’t give her in-
formation, she couldn’t command him to do other than what he planned.
Fortunately, that tactic depended upon her remaining ignorant.
“Meridas,” Jasnah said evenly, “I command you to tell me what you are
planning.”
His eyes flashed with frustration. Finally, he waved her toward a second
sitting barrel. “Fine,” he snapped. “I will hold to my bargain, woman,
though there is little reason now that the madman is gone.”
“The bargain was for my hand, not his,” Jasnah said, not sitting. “His
absence doesn’t affect what is between us. Your plans, Meridas.”
“I have heard of this Lord Aneazer, though I have never traded with
him personally,” Meridas said. “He is not a man to be regarded with any
levity. He is said to maintain a standing force of nearly three thousand men, all well-armed. If a city defies him, he has no qualm slaughtering half its
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population to bring the other half into line. He exacts heavy tributes on
his cities, and suffers no dissent.”
Jasnah felt her heart drop at the description. “There is no trading with
him then?”
“Of course there is,” Meridas said dismissively. “His control over the area and its caravans proves he is a man of logical rulership. He understands
the line between domination and destruction, and knows how to retain
leadership in a chaotic land. He is indeed a man who can be bargained
with, assuming one has something he wants.”
“Of which we have nothing,” Jasnah said.
“On the contrary,” Meridas replied. “We have something he wants very
much. He often sends raiding parties to collect ‘recruits’ for the garnet
mines he controls just to the north of Jorevan. He also supplies labor to
other cities in the wilderness.”
“Labor?” Jasnah asked. “You mean slaves!”
Meridas shrugged. “I only know that we have brought him a very nice
selection of workers. Most of them will be useless to us—the mercenaries
and veterans we can bring to Alethkar, but the romantic zealots and the
alms-seekers are only a bother. We can probably shed a good six to seven
hundred members of the group without much loss.”
Despite herself, Jasnah felt her legs quiver slightly. “You are a monster,”
she hissed. “These people trust us. You would sel them as slaves to a tyrant!”
Meridas regarded her with hard eyes.
He held up a finger. “Do not
lecture me, woman. Since this expedition began, you have ignored my
council. I would have led us to safety in Kholinar. Instead, you saw fit to meander through a dead land following the whims of a lunatic.”
“I—”
“No,” Meridas interrupted. “You will listen, woman. You gathered these people. You used them, lied to them, and manipulated them. You let them
believe that the madman was a Herald. You have led them to the fangs of a
warlord, and are now trying to coax them inside his mouth. What did you
think to do? Fight Aneazer, stand against his three thousand?”
“We could disband,” Jasnah said.
“And send the people to die,” Meridas said. “We have no food, woman.
These are stormlands, not some fertile lait. If you abandon the people now, where will they go? The cities we’ve passed have no food for them. Those
you send off on their own will starve before they find a place that can
support them.” Meridas leaned forward, looking her in the eye. “You killed this people, Jasnah. I will save them. They will be slaves, yes, but they will
THE WAY OF KINGS PRIME 637
live. Besides, Aneazer treats his laborers fairly. They have food, which is more than can be said of most the people in this winds-cursed land.”
Jasnah sank down onto the sitting barrel, stunned, Meridas’s accusations
repeating in her mind. He let her sit there for a few moments before
continuing.
“You will say nothing, of course,” he said, not looking up from his
map. “It will be difficult to get the army into a position where it can be dismantled and safely turned over, but leave that to me. We should reach
Jorevan sometime tomorrow, and I assume that Aneazer will confront us
before then. By the evening of the next day, I plan to have horses and proper supplies, then make good time for Kholinar.”
“There must be a better way, Meridas,” Jasnah said.
“If you think of one, then I will be very surprised,” the man replied. He
glanced over at her. “No more complaints about my foolishness? I thought
not. The problem with you, Jasnah, is that you have always underestimated
me. That is one flaw your madman did not display, which was why I was
happy to see him go.”
“And if he returns?” Jasnah demanded, surprising herself by asking the
Brandon Sanderson - [Stormlight Archive 01] Page 88