The Way of Kings (The Stormlight Archive 1)

“Why did you give up your Shardblade?”

Dalinar held his eyes, then nodded. “Fair enough. I have an offer for you. The king and I are about to do something very, very dangerous. Something that will upset all the warcamps.”

“Congratulations.”

Dalinar smiled faintly. “My honor guard has nearly been wiped out, and the men I do have are needed to augment the King’s Guard. My trust is stretched thin these days. I need someone to protect me and my family. I want you and your men for that job.”

“You want a bunch of bridgemen as bodyguards?”

“The elite ones as bodyguards,” Dalinar said. “Those in your crew, the ones you trained. I want the rest as soldiers for my army. I have heard how well your men fought. You trained them without Sadeas’s knowing, all while running bridges. I’m curious to see what you could do with the right resources.” Dalinar turned away, glancing northward. Toward Sadeas’s camp. “My army is depleted. I’m going to need every man I can get, but everyone I recruit is going to be suspect. Sadeas will try to send spies into our camp. And traitors. And assassins. Elhokar thinks we won’t last a week.”

“Stormfather,” Kaladin said. “What are you planning?”

“I’m going to take away their games, fully expecting them to react like children losing their favored toy.”

“These children have armies and Shardblades.”

“Unfortunately.”

“And this is what you want me to protect you from?”

“Yes.”

No quibbling. Straightforward. There was much to respect about that.

“I’ll augment Bridge Four to become the honor guard,” Kaladin said. “And train the rest as a spearman company. Those in the honor guard get paid like it.” Generally, a lighteyes’s personal guard got triple a standard spearman’s wage.

“Of course.”

“And I want space to train,” Kaladin said. “Full right of requisition from the quartermasters. I get to set my men’s schedule, and we appoint our own sergeants and squadleaders. We don’t answer to any lighteyes but yourself, your sons, and the king.”

Dalinar raised an eyebrow. “That last one is a little… irregular.”

“You want me to guard you and your family?” Kaladin said. “Against the other highprinces and their assassins, who might infiltrate your army and your officers? Well, I can’t be in a position where any lighteyes in the camp can order me around, now can I?”

“You have a point,” Dalinar said. “You realize, however, that in doing this I would essentially be giving you the same authority as a lighteyes of fourth dahn. You’d be in charge of a thousand former bridgemen. A full battalion.”

“Yes.”

Dalinar thought for a moment. “Very well. Consider yourself appointed to the rank of captain—that’s as high as I dare appoint a darkeyes. If I named you battalionlord, it would cause a whole mess of problems. I’ll let it be known, however, that you’re outside the chain of command. You don’t order around lighteyes of lesser rank than you, and lighteyes of higher rank have no authority over you.”

“All right,” Kaladin said. “But these soldiers I train, I want them assigned to patrolling, not plateau runs. I hear you’ve had several full battalions hunting bandits, keeping the peace in the Outer Market, that sort of thing. That’s where my men go for one year, at least.”

“Easy enough,” Dalinar said. “You want time to train them before throwing them into battle, I assume.”

“That, and I killed a lot of Parshendi today. I found myself regretting their deaths. They showed me more honor than most members of my own army have. I didn’t like the feeling, and I want some time to think about it. The bodyguards I train for you, we’ll go out onto the field, but our primary purpose will be protecting you, not killing Parshendi.”

Dalinar looked bemused. “All right. Though you shouldn’t have to worry. I don’t plan to be on the front lines much in the future. My role is changing. Regardless, we have a deal.”

Kaladin held out a hand. “This is contingent on my men agreeing.”

“I thought you said that they’d do what you did.”

“Probably,” Kaladin said. “I command them, but I don’t own them.”

Dalinar reached out, taking his hand, shaking it by the light of the rising sapphire moon. Then he took the bundle out from underneath his arm. “Here.”

“What is this?” Kaladin said, taking the bundle.

“My cloak. The one I wore to battle today, washed and patched.”

Kaladin unfurled it. It was of a deep blue, with the glyphpair of khokh and linil sewn into the back in white embroidery.

“Each man who wears my colors,” Dalinar said, “is of my family, in a way. The cloak is a simple gift, but it is one of the few things I can offer that has any meaning. Accept it with my gratitude, Kaladin Stormblessed.”

Kaladin slowly refolded the cloak. “Where did you hear that name?”

“Your men,” Dalinar said. “They think very highly of you. And that makes me think very highly of you. I need men like you, like all of you.” He narrowed his eyes, looking thoughtful. “The whole kingdom needs you. Perhaps all of Roshar. The True Desolation comes….”

“What was that last part?”

“Nothing,” Dalinar said. “Please, go get some rest, Captain. I hope to hear good news from you soon.”

Kaladin nodded and withdrew, passing the two men who acted as Dalinar’s guard for the night. The hike back to his new barracks was a short one. Dalinar had given him one building for each of the bridge crews. Over a thousand men. What was he going to do with so many? He’d never commanded a group larger than twenty-five before.

Bridge Four’s barrack was empty. Kaladin hesitated outside the doorway, looking in. The barrack was furnished with a bunk and locking chest for each man. It seemed a palace.

He smelled smoke. Frowning, he rounded the barrack to find the men sitting around a firepit in the back, relaxing on stumps or stones, waiting as Rock cooked them a pot of stew. They were listening to Teft, who sat with his arm bandaged, speaking quietly. Shen was there; the quiet parshman sat at the very edge of the group. They’d recovered him, along with their wounded, from Sadeas’s camp.

Teft cut off as soon as he saw Kaladin, and the men turned, most of them bearing bandages of some sort. Dalinar wants these for his bodyguards? Kaladin thought. They were a ragged bunch indeed.

As it happened, however, he seconded Dalinar’s choice. If he were going to put his life in someone’s hands, he’d choose this group.

“What are you doing?” Kaladin asked sternly. “You should all be resting.”

The bridgemen glanced at each other.

“It just…” Moash said. “It didn’t feel right to go to sleep until we’d had a chance to… well, do this.”

“Hard to sleep on a day like this, gancho,” Lopen added.

“Speak for yourself,” Skar said, yawning, wounded leg resting up on a stump. “But the stew is worth staying up for. Even if he does put rocks in it.”

“I do not!” Rock snapped. “Airsick lowlanders.”