The Way of Kings Prime

by Brandon Sanderson

  “Now what?” Lhan asked as Taln paused just inside the monastery gates—a pair of massive wooden structures carved with tensets of intricate glyphs, most of them incarnations of taln or khof.

  Taln scanned the courtyard. It was lined with sand to cushion falls, and one side seemed dedicated to training swordsmen, while the other half focused on the spear. Taln’s mouth downturned again as he noticed the spears. Even worse, he could see through one of the entry gates to another courtyard, where a group of men were practicing with the bow—another useless weapon against the Khothen.

  “Do you have a plan, or are you simply going to stand there and look menacing?” Lhan asked.

  “The Stormshades will be here in under a year,” Taln explained. “I need to judge the martial capability of your people so I know what resources are at my brethren’s command. You say that Alethkar is the most powerful of the existing kingdoms?”

  Lhan shrugged. “Probably about equal with Jah Keved.”

  Taln nodded. “I remember seeing Shardblades at the feast. I presume, then, that Shaping is somehow still available to mankind, even if Epellion Sourcing has for some reason diminished?”

  “Shaping?”

  “The power by which Shardblades are crafted,” Taln explained.

  “Oh, we can’t make them any more,” Lhan said. “What we have now are all leftovers from the Epoch Kingdoms.”

  “How many Blades would you say the kingdoms have?”

  Lhan shrugged. “Most important landowners—Sixth Lords or better—have one, and there are a fair number of unlanded Shardbearers as well. Maybe a hundred here in Alethkar—though we stole a good number of those from Pralir.”

  “That’s a fair number, all things considered.”

  “Well, when you happen to have an indestructible magical sword that can cut through almost anything,” Lhan noted, “you tend to keep track of where you put it.”

  “Didn’t help me keep ahold of mine,” Taln mumbled. “All right. I need to go spar with your warriors, see how good their training is, coax them into telling me what percentage of the civilian population is trained, find out how big the local military force is, discover what martial advancements in tactics and technology have been discovered during the last thousand years, and befriend both monks and soldiers to gain their trust so they accept my leadership when the time comes.” He paused. “You might want to sit down—this could take a while.”

  “I’d avoid hurting any noblemen if I were you,” Lhan said, sitting and leaning back in the shade to rest against the wall. “You are, by their standards, just a citizen. Getting executed by a petulant lord with a broken arm would be a quick way to end your quest to save the world.”

  “I’ll take that into advisement,” Taln said as he strolled toward the sparring swordsmen. Their dueling forms were unfamiliar to him—the stances and styles had apparently changed during his absence. However, he could still see the soul of the old Epoch Kingdom methods in their combat. He and the other Elin had encouraged the rise of dueling as a formalized art—through the tradition, the kingdoms had been able to relieve tension in a relatively harmless way, while at the same time honing their skills in preparation for the next Return.

  Several of the groups stopped practicing as he approached, holding their weapons uncertainly as he kicked a wooden practice sword up off the pile and caught it with a deft motion. He fell into a stance, feeling the weight of the weapon in his palm and smiling at the familiar sensation.

  “Who’s first?” he asked.

  A few of the noblemen raised their weapons. Another, however, frowned. “Don’t I recognize you?” he asked, eyeing Taln. “What rank are you?”

  “Unimportant,” Taln replied. “Let’s spar.”

  “He’s the man from the feast!” one of the others cried. “See! He’s shaven, but I recognize that face!”

  Taln cursed quietly as one of the younger men backed away, then dashed off to fetch the attention of the monastery masters. Taln had to move quickly. He selected a younger man in a fine seasilk training outfit who looked like he knew how to hold his sword. “You,” Taln said, facing the man. “Let’s see how you do.”

  The man didn’t respond.

  Taln stood for a second, then attacked. His feet kicked up sand as he spun forward, swinging his weapon. The man flinched, raising his arm and backing away, but did not raise his weapon. Taln stopped just short of hitting him.

  “I think you are in the wrong place,” one of the older men said, his face dark.

  Taln glanced to the side, noting the group of armed monks running his direction.

  “I came to spar,” Taln said. “Is this not the place?”

  The man snorted. “You hold that sword like you think you’re a Lord.”

  Taln glanced down at the wooden sword. Dueling had always been dominated by the aristocracy—they could afford the finest blades, and spend the time it took to practice. However, the sport was open to all classes—or, at least, it had been.

  “I see,” Taln said, tossing aside the sword. “All right, then.” He walked over to the weapon pile, selecting a spear. It was blunted, the end was severely battered, and the weighting was poor—it was probably just used to train the swordsman how to attack a spearman. He picked the weapon up anyway.

  “All right,” Taln said, falling into a fighting stance, the spear thrust forward. It had been a while since he’d used a polearm—he should probably take it easy at first. “I’ll take five of you at once.”

  None of the men moved to challenge him—in fact, to a man they walked away, leaving him in his stance. Taln’s frown deepened, and he stood upright as the monks finally reached him. He held up a hand to forestall any comments.

  “Let me guess,” he said. “It’s against their sense of ‘honor’ to duel with a common citizen.”

  One of the monks nodded, and Taln sighed. They were all fighting men—the Order of Khonra obviously still took its duty of training both citizen and lord very seriously, and its members would all be expert warriors.

  “Very well,” Taln said. “I’ll spar with one of you, then. I assume that will be allowed?”

  “Certainly, traveler,” the lead monk said. His sword was still sheathed, but his hand rested carefully on its hilt. “Just register with the monastery and give proof of Eighth Citizen status, and we will be pleased to train you.”

  Eighth Citizen status. Taln raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me for a moment, holy brothers,” Taln said, turning and stalking across the sand toward the entrance to the monastery. Lhan looked up with an innocuous smile as he approached.

  “What are these citizenship levels they keep mentioning?” Taln asked.

  “I was wondering if you were ever going to get around to asking that,” Lhan replied.

  “And?” Taln prompted, planting the butt of the spear in the sand and standing expectantly.

  “And you should know what they are,” Lhan said. “Didn’t you tell me you knew King Bajerden personally? Don’t tell me you never read The Way of Kings.”

  “The Way of Kings was written after the Return was over,” Taln informed. “However, I did read it during the next Return, long after Bajerden’s death. It speaks of levels for lords and cities, but says nothing of citizens.”

  Lhan paused. “It doesn’t?” he asked.

  Taln shook his head. “I’m quite certain.”

  “Oh. Actually, I’ve never read it myself . . . I just always assumed . . . Well, anyway, citizenship ranks are the same as noble ranks. They don’t matter much, except that most people are Sixth Citizens, and you have to be at least a First Citizen if you want to marry into a noble house.”

  Taln frowned. “And, I assume, you have to be an Eighth Citizen to train at the monastery?”

  “You have to be one to train, or to join the military—or even hold a weapon, technically.” Lhan smiled, nodding toward Taln’s spear, then toward the group of increasingly hostile monks that stood a short distance behind him.

  �
��You also aren’t supposed to leave the city,” Lhan added. “And you don’t count in the census—that’s to keep a lord from hiring a batch of mercenaries and moving them into town just before the census to inflate his numbers.”

  “I see,” Taln said, turning slowly. There were seven monks, all armed—most with spears, but two with swords. None were practice weapons.

  Taln dug his toes in the sand, getting a proper footing. Seven men, well-trained, and him with a poorly-weighted practice weapon . . . Perhaps they’d listen to him if he proved himself. Jezrien or Chanaral probably would have told him not to make a stir, but they didn’t understand soldiers like he did. Social mores aside, the best warrior always commanded respect. He lowered the weapon, preparing to attack.

  “What is going on here?” a sharp feminine voice demanded from a short distance away.

  Taln glanced quickly to the side, immediately suspicious of a diversionary tactic. That glance was enough to tell him the battle was over.

  “Lady Kholin,” Taln said, standing upright and setting the spear aside. “That was quick.”

  Jasnah Kholin sat in a luxurious litter suspended from the shoulders of four approaching bearers. The litter was draped with colorful seasilks, embroidered blue and red, the side toward him open and held back by two tiestrings.

  The inside of the litter was piled with plush cushions, but none of the softness seemed to have affected the lady’s eyes. She sat in one of the intricate restrictive dresses Taln had seen only among the nobility, green in color this time, and her hair was pulled up in a complex half-braid half-bun, with two tails of black hair jetting fountain-like from the back of her head.

  “You are becoming a very taxing problem, madman,” Lady Jasnah informed as the bearers halted beside Taln.

  “I apologize,” Taln replied, regarding her musingly. “Is that outfit as uncomfortable as it appears?”

  Jasnah raised an eyebrow, then nodded coolly for her bearers to set down the litter. She stepped out into the sand, her feet covered in seasilk slippers that matched her dress. “Walk a little ways with me, madman,” she commanded, gliding out into the now-empty courtyard.

  Taln did as requested, and the lady’s guards followed them, standing just out of earshot. Jasnah stopped once they were a short distance from the monks and her bearers.

  “What do you want?” she asked in a straightforward voice. “Shinri told me that you were making a stir just to get my attention. What can I do to make you stop being a nuisance?”

  “She promised me an audience,” Taln said.

  “You’re getting it now. What do you want?”

  “Get my sword for me,” Taln said.

  “I can’t do that,” Jasnah said.

  Taln shrugged. “You asked what I wanted, and I replied.”

  The lady’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea the chaos you are causing?” She asked. “People in the capital are growing restless. Most know you are mad, but there is an element that can be swayed by even the most foolish of claims. They are whispering that the Return has come, that apocalypse will follow.”

  “With all due respect, my lady,” Taln said. “That’s exactly the reaction I’ve been trying to generate.”

  “You foster chaos.”

  “I prepare for what must come.”

  Jasnah hissed slightly, her face controlled but frustration lurking just beneath.

  “Lady Jasnah,” Taln said gravely. “Have you wondered what would happen if I were right? All of Roshar could be in very serious danger.”

  “The cycle of Returns is over,” Jasnah replied.

  “So your records say, and so the kings at the turn of the last Return claimed,” Taln said. “But who are they to be trusted? Ronad the Ambitious? Vadren the Covetous? Ten rulers your own history dubbed the Oathshard kings. These are the men whose word you rely upon?”

  “They aren’t the only ones,” Jasnah countered. “The monasteries teach that the Returns have finished.”

  “That only started four hundred years ago,” Taln said. “I’ve done my research.”

  Jasnah frowned. “Well, who are we to trust if we can’t listen to our religious leaders? Would you have us instead follow after the mysticisms of the Elinrah?

  Taln paused. “The Elinrah?”

  “A religion,” Jasnah explained. “You should look into them—they do, after all, claim to worship you.”

  Taln frowned. “That is heresy. Only the Almighty should be worshipped.”

  “Well, people get confused,” Jasnah said lightly. “Not all of us have the convenience of being able to speak with the Almighty whenever we wish.”

  “I haven’t spoken with Him in a very long time,” Taln mumbled. They claim to worship you. The heresy of Kanar has returned? Things were worse than he had assumed.

  “You don’t live with the Almighty?” Jasnah asked. “What kind of Herald are you?”

  “It doesn’t work that way,” Taln explained.

  Jasnah raised an eyebrow.

  “You speak rather flippantly of the Almighty for a Vorin,” Taln said slowly.

  “I’m not exactly a model Vorin,” Jasnah replied.

  “I see,” Taln said. “What happened?”

  Jasnah opened her mouth to reply, then paused, shooting a frustrated look at him and folding her arms. One sleeve of her dress, he noticed with interest, was far longer than the other.

  Jasnah frowned. “I’m trying to figure out how exactly this conversation abandoned its primary topic and moved into a discussion of my theological shortcomings.”

  “I was just curious—I tend to be interested in the state of men’s souls.” He paused, smiling. “You could call it an occupational hazard.”

  Jasnah snorted quietly. “My soul is just fine,” she assured. “Look . . . Taln . . . I need you to stay out of trouble. If you promise me to do so, I can get you an audience with the king. You can deliver your important messages to him.”

  “He won’t believe me,” Taln said. “The Sign isn’t working.”

  “Perhaps you just need to try it again,” Jasnah said. “Promise not to make a stir for a few weeks. No more going where you aren’t supposed to, no more yelling condemnations on the streetcorners—”

  “I only did that once,” Taln interjected.

  “Regardless,” Jasnah said, her voice becoming smooth and reassuring. “That’s not the way. You need to speak with King Elhokar. Promise to do as I say, and I will get you in to see him.”

  Taln smiled lightly, but on the inside he was heavily skeptical. Playing off of my supposed delusions, sister of the king? Lhan was right—you are a calculating one. She was trying too hard . . . there was something he was missing.

  “You make a persuasive argument, Lady Jasnah,” Taln said with a bow of the head. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Very good,” Jasnah said with a curt nod. “Visit my chancellor of appointments in, say, half a month. If you’ve stayed quiet and made no disturbances, then I will try to get you an audience with my brother.”

  Taln nodded, and Jasnah turned, walking toward her litter. He watched her go, frowning to himself. She was playing with him—somehow he doubted his ‘audience’ would be as promising as she implied. It was like the young girl’s promise just a short time before, one Jasnah still hadn’t really ever made good on.

  Yet Jasnah seemed desperate to get him to stay quiet. Something was going on.

  As her litter left, Taln walked over to Lhan—noting, with dissatisfaction, that the monks had absconded with his spear. Lhan had settled himself on the sand, eyes closed as he lay back on the shaded sand.

  “Did you have an enjoyable conference?” the monk asked as he heard Taln approach.

  “Thrilling,” Taln replied. “I’m still trying to figure out how she knew I was here. She arrived far too quickly to have been informed by one of the monks.”

  “Oh,” Lhan said, yawning as he opened his eyes. “I sent for her, just before we left Mercyhome.”

 
; “You sent for her?” Taln asked.

  Lhan nodded. “I couldn’t have you getting yourself killed, my dear madman. If you got into a fight with a nobleman and got yourself executed, I would have to go back to weaving floormats. For a supposedly docile and reverent bunch, the Kavel monks certainly are hard on floors.”

  Taln snorted, shaking his head and watching jealously as the monks, noblemen, and citizens resumed their training.

  “So are we finished here?” Lhan asked.

  “Yes,” Taln said with a sigh.

  “You seem uncharacteristically upset,” Lhan noted.

  Taln leaned back against the wall, standing beside the reclining monk. “This isn’t supposed to be me, Lhan,” he said quietly. “This isn’t what I do. I’m a soldier, not a politician or a preacher. I have no idea how to make people believe that the Return has come—that is something for Nale or Ishar to do. My duty has always been to prepare the people for war.”

  “I see,” Lhan said.

  Taln sighed. “Something’s very wrong. It’s been over a month since I arrived, and they haven’t come to the city. This is the meeting place—they should be here. Jezrien would have the Aleth king begging him to take over command of the royal armies by now. I can’t even persuade a group of monks to fight me.”

  “Where do you think the others could be?”

  Taln shook his head. “Perhaps they’ve given up on Kanar—perhaps they realized the Epoch Kingdoms had fallen, and so they moved on to more promising ground. They could be in Shinavar, rallying the clans, or maybe one of the other kingdoms accepted them, like Marnah did during the Second Return.”

  Taln stared off across the sandy courtyard, watching the duelists. “I don’t know, Lhan. Nothing has worked. The citizenry thinks I’m insane; the nobility fears to speak with me lest they incur royal disfavor. I get kicked out of both library and monastery . . . to be honest, I’m not even certain what to try next.”