The Way of Kings sa-1

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Your Majesty,” Dalinar said. “Sadeas’s bridges waste many lives.”

  “But they are also fast,” Sadeas said smoothly. “Relying on wheeled bridges is foolish, Dalinar. Getting them over this plateau terrain is slow and plodding.”

  “The Codes state that a general may not ask a man to do anything he would not do himself. Tell me, Sadeas. Would you run at the front of those bridges you use?”

  “I wouldn’t eat gruel either,” Sadeas said dryly, “or cut ditches.”

  “But you might if you had to,” Dalinar said. “The bridges are different. Stormfather, you don’t even let them use armor or shields! Would you enter combat without your Plate?”

  “The bridgemen serve a very important function,” Sadeas snapped. “They distract the Parshendi from firing at my soldiers. I tried giving them shields at first. And you know what? The Parshendi ignored the bridgemen and fired volleys onto my soldiers and horses. I found that by doubling the number of bridges on a run, then making them extremely light-no armor, no shields to slow them-the bridgemen work far better.

  “You see, Dalinar? The Parshendi are too tempted by the exposed bridgemen to fire at anyone else! Yes, we lose a few bridge crews in each assault, but rarely so many that it hinders us. The Parshendi just keep firing at them-I assume that, for whatever reason, they think killing the bridgemen hurts us. As if an unarmored man carrying a bridge was worth the same to the army as a mounted knight in Plate.” Sadeas shook his head in amusement at the thought.

  Dalinar frowned. Brother, Gavilar had written. You must find the most important words a man can say…. A quote from the ancient text The Way of Kings. It would disagree strongly with the things Sadeas was implying.

  “Regardless,” Sadeas continued. “Surely you can’t argue with how effective my method has been.”

  “Sometimes,” Dalinar said, “the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself.”

  Sadeas looked at Dalinar incredulously. Even Adolin and Renarin-who had come closer-seemed shocked by the statement. It was a very un-Alethi way of thinking.

  With the visions and the words of that book spinning in his mind lately, Dalinar wasn’t feeling particularly Alethi.

  “The prize is worth any cost, Brightlord Dalinar,” Sadeas said. “Winning the competition is worth any effort, any expense.”

  “It is a war,” Dalinar said. “Not a contest.”

  “Everything is a contest,” Sadeas said with a wave of his hand. “All dealings among men are a contest in which some will succeed and others fail. And some are failing quite spectacularly.”

  “My father is one of the most renowned warriors in Alethkar!” Adolin snapped, butting into the group. The king raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise stayed out of the conversation. “You saw what he did earlier, Sadeas, while you were hiding back by the pavilion with your bow. My father held off the beast. You’re a cowa-”

  “Adolin!” Dalinar said. That was going too far. “Restrain yourself.”

  Adolin clenched his jaw, hand to his side, as if itching to summon his Shardblade. Renarin stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Adolin’s arm. Reluctantly, Adolin backed down.

  Sadeas turned to Dalinar, smirking. “One son can barely control himself, and the other is incompetent. This is your legacy, old friend?”

  “I am proud of them both, Sadeas, whatever you think.”

  “The firebrand I can understand,” Sadeas said. “You were once impetuous just like him. But the other one? You saw how he ran out onto the field today. He even forgot to draw his sword or bow! He’s useless!”

  Renarin flushed, looking down. Adolin snapped his head up. He thrust his hand to the side again, stepping forward toward Sadeas.

  “Adolin!” Dalinar said. “I will handle this!”

  Adolin looked at him, blue eyes alight with rage, but he did not summon his Blade.

  Dalinar turned his attention to Sadeas, speaking very softly, very pointedly. “Sadeas. Surely I did not just hear you openly-before the king-call my son useless. Surely you would not say that, as such an insult would demand that I summon my Blade and seek your blood. Shatter the Vengeance Pact. Cause the king’s two greatest allies to kill one another. Surely you would not have been that foolish. Surely I misheard.”

  Everything grew still. Sadeas hesitated. He didn’t back down; he met Dalinar’s gaze. But he did hesitate.

  “Perhaps,” Sadeas said slowly, “you did hear the wrong words. I would not insult your son. That would not have been…wise of me.”

  An understanding passed between them, stares locked, and Dalinar nodded. Sadeas did as well-one curt nod of the head. They would not let their hatred of one another become a danger to the king. Barbs were one thing, but dueling offenses were another. They couldn’t risk that.

  “Well,” Elhokar said. He allowed his highprinces to jostle and contend for status and influence. He believed they were all stronger for it, and few faulted him; it was an established method of rule. More and more, Dalinar found himself disagreeing.

  Unite them….

  “I guess we can be done with that,” Elhokar said.

  To the side, Adolin looked unsatisfied, as if he’d really been hoping that Dalinar would summon his Blade and confront Sadeas. Dalinar’s own blood felt hot, the Thrill tempting him, but he shoved it down. No. Not here. Not now. Not while Elhokar needed them.

  “Perhaps we can be done, Your Majesty,” Sadeas said. “Though I doubt this particular discussion between Dalinar and me will ever be done. At least until he relearns how to act as a man should.”

  “I said that is quite enough, Sadeas,” Elhokar said.

  “Quite enough, you say?” a new voice added. “I believe that a single word from Sadeas is ‘quite enough’ for anyone.” Wit picked his way through the groups of attendants, holding a cup of wine in one hand, silver sword belted at his side.

  “Wit!” Elhokar exclaimed. “When did you get here?”

  “I caught up to your party just before the battle, Your Majesty,” Wit said, bowing. “I was going to speak with you, but the chasmfiend beat me to you. I hear your conversation with it was rather energizing.”

  “But, you arrived hours ago, then! What have you been doing? How could I have missed seeing you here?”

  “I had…things to be about,” Wit said. “But I couldn’t stay away from the hunt. I wouldn’t want you to lack for me.”

  “I’ve done well so far.”

  “And yet, you were still Witless,” Wit noted.

  Dalinar studied the black-clad man. What to make of Wit? He was clever. And yet, he was too free with his thoughts, as he’d shown with Renarin earlier. This Wit had a strange air about him that Dalinar couldn’t quite place.

  “Brightlord Sadeas,” Wit said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m terribly sorry to see you here.”

  “I should think,” Sadeas said dryly, “that you would be happy to see me. I seem always to provide you with such entertainment.”

  “That is unfortunately true,” Wit said.

  “Unfortunately?”

  “Yes. You see, Sadeas, you make it too easy. An uneducated, half-brained serving boy with a hangover could make mock of you. I am left with no need to exert myself, and your very nature makes mockery of my mockery. And so it is that through sheer stupidity you make me look incompetent.”

  “Really, Elhokar,” Sadeas said. “Must we put up with this…creature?”

  “I like him,” Elhokar said, smiling. “He makes me laugh.”

  “At the expense of those who are loyal to you.”

  “Expense?” Wit cut in. “Sadeas, I don’t believe you’ve ever paid me a sphere. Though no, please, don’t offer. I can’t take your money, as I know how many others you must pay to get what you wish of them.”

  Sadeas flushed, but kept his temper. “A whore joke, Wit? Is that the best you can manage?”

  Wit shrugged. “I point out truths when I see the
m, Brightlord Sadeas. Each man has his place. Mine is to make insults. Yours is to be in-sluts.”

  Sadeas froze, then grew red-faced. “You are a fool.”

  “If the Wit is a fool, then it is a sorry state for men. I shall offer you this, Sadeas. If you can speak, yet say nothing ridiculous, I will leave you alone for the rest of the week.”

  “Well, I think that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “And yet you failed,” Wit said, sighing. “For you said ‘I think’ and I can imagine nothing so ridiculous as the concept of you thinking. What of you, young Prince Renarin? Your father wishes me to leave you alone. Can you speak, yet say nothing ridiculous?”

  Eyes turned toward Renarin, who stood just behind his brother. Renarin hesitated, eyes opening wide at the attention. Dalinar grew tense.

  “Nothing ridiculous,” Renarin said slowly.

  Wit laughed. “Yes, I suppose that will satisfy me. Very clever. If Brightlord Sadeas should lose control of himself and finally kill me, perhaps you can be King’s Wit in my stead. You seem to have the mind for it.”

  Renarin perked up, which darkened Sadeas’s mood further. Dalinar eyed the highprince; Sadeas’s hand had gone to his sword. Not a Shardblade, for Sadeas didn’t have one. But he did carry a lighteyes’s side sword. Plenty deadly; Dalinar had fought beside Sadeas on many occasions, and the man was an expert swordsman.

  Wit stepped forward. “So what of it, Sadeas?” he asked softly. “You going to do Alethkar a favor and rid it of us both?”

  Killing the King’s Wit was legal. But by so doing, Sadeas would forfeit his title and lands. Most men found it a poor enough trade not to do it in the open. Of course, if you could assassinate a Wit without anyone knowing it was you, that was something different.

  Sadeas slowly removed his hand from the hilt of his sword, then nodded curtly to the king and strode away.

  “Wit,” Elhokar said, “Sadeas has my favor. There’s no need to torment him so.”

  “I disagree,” Wit said. “The king’s favor may be torment enough for most men, but not him.”

  The king sighed and looked toward Dalinar. “I should go placate Sadeas. I’ve been meaning to ask you, though. Have you looked into the issue I asked you about earlier?”

  Dalinar shook his head. “I have been busy with the needs of the army. But I will look into it now, Your Majesty.”

  The king nodded, then hastened off after Sadeas.

  “What was that, Father?” Adolin asked. “Is it about the people he thinks were spying on him?”

  “No,” Dalinar said. “This is something new. I’ll show you shortly.”

  Dalinar looked toward Wit. The black-clad man was popping his knuckles one at a time, looking at Sadeas, seeming contemplative. He noticed Dalinar watching and winked, then walked away.

  “I like him,” Adolin repeated.

  “I might be persuaded to agree,” Dalinar said, rubbing his chin. “Renarin,” Dalinar said, “go and get a report on the wounded. Adolin, come with me. We need to check into the matter the king spoke of.”

  Both young men looked confused, but they did as requested. Dalinar started across the plateau toward where the carcass of the chasmfiend lay.

  Let us see what your worries have brought us this time, nephew, he thought.

  Adolin turned the long leather strap over in his hands. Almost a handspan wide and a finger’s width thick, the strap ended in a ragged tear. It was the girth to the king’s saddle, the strap that wrapped under the horse’s barrel. It had broken suddenly during the fight, throwing the saddle-and the king-from horseback.

  “What do you think?” Dalinar asked.

  “I don’t know,” Adolin said. “It doesn’t look that worn, but I guess it was, otherwise it wouldn’t have snapped, right?

  Dalinar took the strap back, looking contemplative. The soldiers still hadn’t returned with the bridge crew, though the sky was darkening.

  “Father,” Adolin said. “Why would Elhokar ask us to look into this? Does he expect us to discipline the grooms for not properly caring for his saddle? Is it…” Adolin trailed off, and he suddenly understood his father’s hesitation. “The king thinks the strap was cut, doesn’t he?”

  Dalinar nodded. He turned it over in his gauntleted fingers, and Adolin could see him thinking about it. A girth could get so worn that it would snap, particularly when strained by the weight of a man in Shardplate. This strap had broken off at the point where it had been affixed to the saddle, so it would have been easy for the grooms to miss it. That was the most rational explanation. But when looked at with slightly more irrational eyes, it could seem that something nefarious had happened.

  “Father,” Adolin said, “he’s getting increasingly paranoid. You know he is.”

  Dalinar didn’t reply.

  “He sees assassins in every shadow,” Adolin continued. “Straps break. That doesn’t mean someone tried to kill him.”

  “If the king is worried,” Dalinar said, “we should look into it. The break is smoother on one side, as if it were sliced so that it would rip when it was stressed.”

  Adolin frowned. “Maybe.” He hadn’t noticed that. “But think about it, Father. Why would someone cut his strap? A fall from horseback wouldn’t harm a Shardbearer. If it was an assassination attempt, then it was an incompetent one.”

  “If it was an assassination attempt,” Dalinar said, “even an incompetent one, then we have something to worry about. It happened on our watch, and his horse was cared for by our grooms. We will look into this.”

  Adolin groaned, some of his frustration slipping out. “The others already whisper that we’ve become bodyguards and pets of the king. What will they say if they hear that we’re chasing down his every paranoid worry, no matter how irrational?”

  “I have never cared what they say.”

  “We spend all our time on bureaucracy while others win wealth and glory. We rarely go on plateau assaults because we’re busy doing things like this! We need to be out there, fighting, if we’re ever going to catch up to Sadeas!”

  Dalinar looked at him, frown deepening, and Adolin bit off his next outburst.

  “I see that we’re no longer talking about this broken girth,” Dalinar said.

  “I…I’m sorry. I spoke in haste.”

  “Perhaps you did. But then again, perhaps I needed to hear it. I noticed that you didn’t particularly like how I held you back from Sadeas earlier.”

  “I know you hate him too, Father.”

  “You do not know as much as you presume you do,” Dalinar said. “We’ll do something about that in a moment. For now, I swear…this strap does look like it was cut. Perhaps there is something we’re not seeing. This could have been part of something larger that didn’t work the way it had been anticipated.”

  Adolin hesitated. It seemed overcomplicated, but if there was a group who liked their plots overly complicated, it was the Alethi lighteyes. “Do you think one of the highprinces may have tried something?”

  “Maybe,” Dalinar said. “But I doubt any of them want him dead. So long as Elhokar rules, the highprinces get to fight in this war their way and fatten their purses. He doesn’t make many demands of them. They like having him as their king.”

  “Men can covet the throne for the distinction alone.”

  “True. When we return, see if anyone has been bragging too much of late. Check to see if Roion is still bitter about Wit’s insult at the feast last week and have Talata go over the contracts Highprince Bethab offered to the king for the use of his chulls. In previous contracts, he’s tried to slip in language that would favor his claim in a succession. He’s been bold ever since your aunt Navani left.”

  Adolin nodded.

  “See if you can backtrack the girth’s history,” Dalinar said. “Have a leatherworker look at it and tell you what he thinks of the rip. Ask the grooms if they noticed anything, and watch to see if any have received any suspicious windfalls of spheres lately.” He hesitated. “And
double the king’s guard.”

  Adolin turned, glancing at the pavilion. Sadeas was strolling out of it. Adolin narrowed his eyes. “Do you think-”

  “No,” Dalinar interrupted.

  “Sadeas is an eel.”

  “Son, you have to stop fixating on him. He likes Elhokar, which can’t be said of most of the others. He’s one of the few I’d trust the king’s safety to.”

  “I wouldn’t do the same, Father, I can tell you that.”

  Dalinar fell silent for a moment. “Come with me.” He handed Adolin the saddle strap, then began to cross the plateau toward the pavilion. “I want to show you something about Sadeas.”

  Resigned, Adolin followed. They passed the lit pavilion. Inside, darkeyed men served food and drink while women sat and scribed messages or wrote accounts of the battle. The lighteyes spoke with one another in verbose, excited tones, complimenting the king’s bravery. The men wore dark, masculine colors: maroon, navy, forest green, deep burnt orange.

  Dalinar approached Highprince Vamah, who stood outside the pavilion with a group of his own lighteyed attendants. He was dressed in a fashionable long brown coat that had slashes cut through it to expose the bright yellow silk lining. It was a subdued fashion, not as ostentatious as wearing silks on the outside. Adolin thought it looked nice.

  Vamah himself was a round-faced, balding man. The short hair that remained stuck straight up, and he had light grey eyes. He had a habit of squinting-which he did as Dalinar and Adolin approached.

  What is this about? Adolin wondered.

  “Brightlord,” Dalinar said to Vamah. “I have come to make certain your comfort has been seen to.”

  “My comfort would be best seen to if we could be on our way back.” Vamah glared over at the setting sun, as if blaming it for some misdeed. He wasn’t normally so foul-mooded.

  “I’m certain that my men are moving as quickly as they can,” Dalinar said.

  “It wouldn’t be nearly as late if you hadn’t slowed us so much on the way here,” Vamah said.

  “I like to be careful,” Dalinar said. “And, speaking of care, there is something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Might my son and I speak to you alone for a moment?”