The Way of Kings sa-1

by Brandon Sanderson

  “They are the first,” the Radiant said, turning to Dalinar. Dalinar recognized the depth of that voice. It was the voice that always spoke to him in these visions. “They were the first, and they were also the last.”

  “Is this the Day of Recreance?” Dalinar asked.

  “These events will go down in history,” the Radiant said. “They will be infamous. You will have many names for what happened here.”

  “But why?” Dalinar asked. “Please. Why did they abandon their duty?”

  The figure seemed to study him. “I have said I that cannot be of much help to you. The Night of Sorrows will come, and the True Desolation. The Everstorm.”

  “Then answer my questions!” Dalinar said.

  “Read the book. Unite them.”

  “The book? The Way of Kings?”

  The figure turned and walked from him, joining the other Radiants as they crossed the stone plain, walking toward places unknown.

  Dalinar looked back at the melee of soldiers rushing for Blades. Many had already been claimed. There weren’t enough Blades for everyone, and some had begun raising theirs up, using them to fend off those who got too close. As he watched, a bellowing officer with a Blade was attacked by two men behind him.

  The glow from within the weapons had completely vanished.

  The killing of that officer made others bold. Other skirmishes started, men scrambling to attack those who had Blades, hoping to get one. Eyes began to burn. Screams, shouts, death. Dalinar watched until he found himself in his quarters, tied to his chair. Renarin and Adolin watched nearby, looking tense.

  Dalinar blinked, listening to the rain of the passing highstorm on the roof. “I’ve returned,” he said to his sons. “You may calm yourselves.” Adolin helped untie the ropes while Renarin stood up and fetched Dalinar a cup of orange wine.

  Once Dalinar was free, Adolin stood back. The youth folded his arms. Renarin came back, his face pale. He looked to be having one of his episodes of weakness; indeed, his legs were trembling. As soon as Dalinar took the cup, the youth sat down in a chair and rested his head in his hands.

  Dalinar sipped the sweet wine. He had seen wars in his visions before. He had seen deaths and monsters, greatshells and nightmares. And yet, for some reason, this one disturbed him more than any. He found his own hand shaking as he raised the cup for a second sip.

  Adolin was still looking at him.

  “Am I that bad to watch?” Dalinar asked.

  “The gibberish you speak is unnerving, Father,” Renarin said. “Unearthly, strange. Skewed, like a wooden building pushed to a slant by the wind.”

  “You thrash about,” Adolin said. “You nearly tipped over the chair. I had to hold it steady until you stilled.”

  Dalinar stood up, sighing as he walked over to refill his cup. “And you still think I don’t need to abdicate?”

  “The episodes are containable,” Adolin said, though he sounded disturbed. “My point was never to get you to abdicate. I just didn’t want you relying upon the delusions to make decisions about our house’s future. So long as you accept that what you see isn’t real, we can move on. No reason for you to give up your seat.”

  Dalinar poured the wine. He looked eastward, toward the wall, away from Adolin and Renarin. “I don’t accept that what I see isn’t real.”

  “What?” Adolin said. “But I thought I convinced-”

  “I accept that I’m no longer reliable,” Dalinar said. “And that there’s a chance I might be going mad. I accept that something is happening to me.” He turned around. “When I first began seeing these visions, I believed them to be from the Almighty. You have convinced me that I may have been too hasty in my judgment. I don’t know enough to trust them. I could be mad. Or they could be supernatural without being of the Almighty.”

  “How could that happen?” Adolin said, frowning.

  “The Old Magic,” Renarin said softly, still sitting.

  Dalinar nodded.

  “What?” Adolin said pointedly. “The Old Magic is a myth.”

  “Unfortunately, it is not,” Dalinar said, then took another drink of the cool wine. “I know this for a fact.”

  “Father,” Renarin said. “For the Old Magic to have affected you, you’d have had to travel to the West and seek it. Wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes,” he said, ashamed. The empty place in his memories where his wife had once existed had never seemed as obvious to him as it did at that moment. He tended to ignore it, with good reason. She’d vanished completely, and it was sometimes difficult for him to remember that he had been married.

  “These visions are not in line with what I’ve understood about the Nightwatcher,” Renarin said. “Most consider her to be just some kind of powerful spren. Once you’ve sought her out and been given your reward and your curse, she’s supposed to leave you alone. When did you seek her?”

  “It’s been many years now,” Dalinar said.

  “Then this probably isn’t due to her influence,” Renarin said.

  “I agree,” Dalinar said.

  “But what did you ask for?” Adolin said, frowning.

  “My curse and boon are my own, son,” Dalinar said. “The specifics are not important.”

  “But-”

  “I agree with Renarin,” Dalinar said, interrupting. “This is probably not the Nightwatcher.”

  “All right, fine. But why bring it up?”

  “Because, Adolin,” Dalinar said, feeling exasperated. “I don’t know what is happening to me. These visions seem far too detailed to be products of my mind. But your arguments made me think. I could be wrong. Or you could be wrong, and it could be the Almighty. Or it could be something entirely different. We don’t know, and that is why it is dangerous for me to be left in command.”

  “Well, what I said still holds,” Adolin said stubbornly. “We can contain it.”

  “No, we can’t,” Dalinar said. “Just because it has come only during highstorms in the past doesn’t mean it couldn’t expand to other times of stress. What if I were struck with an episode on the battlefield?” That was the very same reason they didn’t let Renarin ride into battle.

  “If that happens,” Adolin said, “we’ll deal with it. For now, we could just ignore-”

  Dalinar threw a hand up into the air. “Ignore? I cannot ignore something like this. The visions, the book, the things I feel-they’re changing every aspect of me. How can I rule if I do not follow my conscience? If I continue as highprince, I second-guess my every decision. Either I decide to trust myself, or I step down. I cannot stomach the thought of something in-between.”

  The room fell silent.

  “So what do we do?” Adolin said.

  “We make the choice,” Dalinar said. “I make the choice.”

  “Step down or keep heeding the delusions,” Adolin spat. “Either way we’re letting them rule us.”

  “And you have a better option?” Dalinar demanded. “You’ve been quick to complain, Adolin, which seems a habit of yours. But I don’t see you offering a legitimate alternative.”

  “I gave you one,” Adolin said. “Ignore the visions and move on!”

  “I said a legitimate option!”

  The two stared at one another. Dalinar fought to keep his anger contained. In many ways, he and Adolin were too similar. They understood one another, and that enabled them to push in places that hurt.

  “Well,” Renarin said, “what if we proved whether or not the visions were true?”

  Dalinar glanced at him. “What?”

  “You say these dreams are detailed,” Renarin said, leaning forward with hands clasped in front of him. “What, exactly, do you see?”

  Dalinar hesitated, then gulped down the rest of his wine. For once he wished he had intoxicating violet instead of orange. “The visions are often of the Knights Radiant. At the end of each episode, someone-I think one of the Heralds-comes to me and commands me to unite the highprinces of Alethkar.”

  The room fell si
lent, Adolin looking disturbed, Renarin just sitting quietly.

  “Today, I saw the Day of Recreance,” Dalinar continued. “The Radiants abandoned their Shards and walked away. The Plate and Blades…faded somehow when they were abandoned. It seems such an odd detail to have seen.” He looked at Adolin. “If these visions are fantasies, then I am a great deal more clever than I once thought myself.”

  “Do you remember any specifics we could check on?” Renarin asked. “Names? Locations? Events that might be traced in history?”

  “This last one was of a place called Feverstone Keep,” Dalinar said.

  “I’ve never heard of it,” Adolin said.

  “Feverstone Keep,” Dalinar repeated. “In my vision, there was some kind of war going on near there. The Radiants had been fighting on the front lines. They withdrew to this fortress, then abandoned their Shards there.”

  “Perhaps we could find something in history,” Renarin said. “Proof that either this keep existed or that the Radiants didn’t do what you saw there. Then we’d know, wouldn’t we? If the dreams are delusions or truth?”

  Dalinar found himself nodding. Proving them had never occurred to him, in part because he had assumed they were real at the start. Once he’d started questioning, he’d been more inclined to keep the nature of the visions hidden and silent. But if he knew that he was seeing real events…well, that would at least rule out the possibility of madness. It wouldn’t solve everything, but it would help a great deal.

  “I don’t know,” Adolin said, more skeptical. “Father, you’re talking about times before the Hierocracy. Will we be able to find anything in the histories?”

  “There are histories from the time when the Radiants lived,” Renarin said. “That’s not as far back as the shadowdays or the Heraldic Epochs. We could ask Jasnah. Isn’t this what she does? As a Veristitalian?”

  Dalinar looked at Adolin. “It sounds like it’s worth a try, son.”

  “Maybe,” Adolin said. “But we can’t take the existence of a single place as proof. You could have heard of this Feverstone Keep, and therefore included it.”

  “Well,” Renarin said, “that may be true. But if what Father sees are just delusions, then certainly we’ll be able to prove some parts of them untrue. It seems impossible that every detail he imagines is one that he got from a story or history. Some aspects of the delusions would have to be pure fancy.”

  Adolin nodded slowly. “I…You’re right, Renarin. Yes, it’s a good plan.”

  “We need to get one of my scribes,” Dalinar said. “So I can dictate the vision I just had while it is fresh.”

  “Yes,” Renarin said. “The more details we have, the easier it will be to prove-or disprove-the visions.”

  Dalinar grimaced, setting aside his cup and walking over to the others. He sat down. “All right, but who would we use to record the dictation?”

  “You have a great number of clerks, Father,” Renarin said.

  “And they’re all either wife or daughter to one of my officers,” Dalinar said. How could he explain? It was painful enough for him to expose weakness to his sons. If news of what he saw got around to his officers, it could weaken morale. There might come a time to reveal these things to his men, but he would need to do so carefully. And he’d much rather know for himself whether or not he was mad before he approached others.

  “Yes,” Adolin said, nodding-though Renarin still looked perplexed. “I understand. But, Father, we can’t afford to wait for Jasnah to return. It could be months yet.”

  “Agreed.” Dalinar said. He sighed. There was another option. “Renarin, send a runner for your aunt Navani.”

  Adolin glanced at Dalinar, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a good idea. But I thought you didn’t trust her.”

  “I trust her to keep her word,” Dalinar said, resigned. “And to keep confidence. I told her of my plans to abdicate, and she didn’t tell a soul.” Navani was excellent at keeping secrets. Far better than the women of his court. He trusted them to an extent, but keeping a secret like this would require someone supremely exacting in their words and thoughts.

  That meant Navani. She would probably find a way to manipulate him using the knowledge, but at least the secret would be safe from his men.

  “Go, Renarin,” Dalinar said.

  Renarin nodded and stood. He had apparently recovered from his fit, and walked surefooted to the door. As he left, Adolin approached Dalinar. “Father, what will you do if we prove that I’m right, and it’s just your own mind?”

  “A part of me wishes for that to happen,” Dalinar said, watching the door swing closed after Renarin. “I fear madness, but at least it is something familiar, something that can be dealt with. I will give you the princedom, then seek help in Kharbranth. But if these things are not delusions, I face another decision. Do I accept what they tell me or not? It may very well be better for Alethkar if I prove to be mad. It will be easier, at the least.”

  Adolin considered that, his brow furrowed, his jaw tense. “And Sadeas? He seems to be nearing the completion of his investigation. What do we do?”

  It was a legitimate question. Troubles over Dalinar trusting the visions in relation to Sadeas had been what had drawn Dalinar and Adolin to argument in the first place.

  Unite them. That wasn’t just a command from the visions. It had been Gavilar’s dream. A unified Alethkar. Had Dalinar let that dream-combined with guilt over failing his brother-drive him to construct supernatural rationalizations for seeking his brother’s will?

  He felt uncertain. He hated feeling uncertain.

  “Very well,” Dalinar said. “I give you leave to prepare for the worst, just in case Sadeas moves against us. Prepare our officers and call back the companies sent to patrol for bandits. If Sadeas denounces me as having tried to kill Elhokar, we will lock down our warcamp and go on alert. I don’t intend to let him bring me in for execution.”

  Adolin looked relieved. “Thank you, Father.”

  “Hope it doesn’t come to that, son,” Dalinar said. “The moment Sadeas and I go to war in earnest, Alethkar as a nation will shatter. Ours are the two princedoms that uphold the king, and if we turn to strife, the others will either pick sides or turn to wars of their own.”

  Adolin nodded, but Dalinar sat back, disturbed. I’m sorry, he thought to whatever force was sending the visions. But I have to be wise.

  In a way, this seemed like a second test to him. The visions had told him to trust Sadeas. Well, he would see what happened.

  “…and then it faded,” Dalinar said. “After that, I found myself back here.”

  Navani raised her pen, looking thoughtful. It hadn’t taken him long to talk through the vision. She’d scribed expertly, picking out details from him, knowing when to prod for more. She hadn’t said a thing about the irregularity of the request, nor had she seemed amused by his desire to write down one of his delusions. She’d been businesslike and careful. She sat at his writing desk now, hair bound up in curls and crossed with four hair-spikes. Her dress was red, matched by her lip paint, and her beautiful violet eyes were curious.

  Stormfather, Dalinar thought, but she’s beautiful.

  “Well?” Adolin asked. He stood leaning against the door out of the chamber. Renarin had gone off to collect a highstorm damage report. The lad needed practice at that sort of activity.

  Navani raised an eyebrow. “What was that, Adolin?”

  “What do you think, Aunt?” Adolin asked.

  “I have never heard of any of these places or events,” Navani said. “But I believe you weren’t expecting to me to know of them. Didn’t you say you wished me to contact Jasnah?”

  “Yes,” Adolin said. “But surely you have analysis.”

  “I reserve judgment, dear,” Navani said, standing up and folding the paper by pressing down with her safehand, holding it in place while she creased the fold tight. She smiled, walking by Adolin and patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what Jasnah says before we do any a
nalyzing, shall we?”

  “I suppose,” Adolin said. He sounded dissatisfied.

  “I spent some time talking with that young lady of yours yesterday,” Navani noted to him. “Danlan? I think you’ve made a wise choice. She’s got a mind in that head of hers.”

  Adolin perked up. “You like her?”

  “Quite a bit,” Navani said. “I also discovered that she is very fond of avramelons. Did you know that?”

  “I didn’t, actually.”

  “Good. I would have hated to do all that work to find you a means of pleasing her, only to discover that you already knew it. I took the liberty of purchasing a basket of the melons on my way here. You’ll find them in the antechamber, watched over by a bored soldier who didn’t look like he was doing anything important. If you were to visit her with them this afternoon, I think you’d find yourself very well received.”

  Adolin hesitated. He probably knew that Navani was deflecting him from worrying over Dalinar. However, he relaxed, then started smiling. “Well, that might make for a pleasant change, considering events lately.”

  “I thought it might,” Navani said. “I’d suggest going soon; those melons are perfectly ripe. Besides, I wish to speak with your father.”

  Adolin kissed Navani fondly on the cheek. “Thank you, Mashala.” He allowed her to get away with some things that others could not; around his favored aunt, he was much like a child again. Adolin’s smile widened as he made his way out the door.

  Dalinar found himself smiling as well. Navani knew his son well. His smile didn’t last long, however, as he realized that Adolin’s departure left him alone with Navani. He stood up. “What is it you wished to ask of me?” he asked.

  “I didn’t say I wanted to ask anything of you, Dalinar,” she said. “I just wanted to talk. We are family, after all. We don’t spend enough time together.”

  “If you wish to speak, I shall fetch some soldiers to accompany us.” He glanced at the antechamber outside. Adolin had shut the second door at the end, closing off his view of his guards-and their view of him.

  “Dalinar,” she said, walking up to him. “That would kind of defeat the point of sending Adolin away. I was after some privacy.”