Words of Radiance (The Stormlight Archive 2)

“That’s the rationale,” Dalinar said, stepping up closer to the bars, only inches from Kaladin. “But it’s not the reason. I did it because it felt right.”

Kaladin frowned.

“I trust my hunches,” Dalinar said. “My gut said you were a man who could help change this kingdom. A man who could live through Damnation itself in Sadeas’s camp and still somehow inspire others was a man I wanted under my command.” His expression grew harder. “I gave you a position no darkeyes has ever held in this army. I let you into conferences with the king, and I listened when you spoke. Do not make me regret those decisions, soldier.”

“You don’t already?” Kaladin asked.

“I’ve come close,” Dalinar said. “I understand, though. If you truly believe what you told me about Amaram… well, if I’d been in your place, I’d have been hard pressed not to do the same thing you did. But storm it, man, you’re still a darkeyes.”

“It shouldn’t matter.”

“Maybe it shouldn’t, but it does. You want to change that? Well, you’re not going to do it by screaming like a lunatic and challenging men like Amaram to duels. You’ll do it by distinguishing yourself in the position I gave you. Be the kind of man that others admire, whether they be lighteyed or dark. Convince Elhokar that a darkeyes can lead. That will change the world.”

Dalinar turned and walked away. Kaladin couldn’t help thinking that the man’s shoulders seemed more bowed than when he’d entered.

After Dalinar left, Kaladin sat back on his bench, letting out a long, annoyed breath. “Stay calm,” he whispered. “Do as you’re told, Kaladin. Stay in your cage.”

“He’s trying to help,” Syl said.

Kaladin glanced to the side. Where was she hiding? “You heard about Roshone.”

Silence.

“Yes,” Syl finally said, voice sounding small.

“My family’s poverty,” Kaladin said, “the way the town ostracized us, Tien being forced into the army, these things were all Roshone’s fault. Elhokar sent him to us.”

Syl didn’t respond. Kaladin fished a bit of flatbread from his bowl, chewing on it. Stormfather—Moash really was right. This kingdom would be better off without Elhokar. Dalinar tried his best, but he had an enormous blind spot regarding his nephew.

It was time someone stepped in and cut the ties binding Dalinar’s hands. For the good of the kingdom, for the good of Dalinar Kholin himself, the king had to die.

Some people—like a festering finger or a leg shattered beyond repair—just needed to be removed.

63. A Burning World

Now, look what you’ve made me say. You’ve always been able to bring out the most extreme in me, old friend. And I do still name you a friend, for all that you weary me.

What are you doing? the spanreed wrote to Shallan.

Nothing much, she wrote back by spherelight, just working on Sebarial’s income ledgers. She peeked out through the hole in her illusion, regarding the street far below. People flowed through the city as if marching to some strange rhythm. A dribble, then a burst, then back to a dribble. Rarely a constant flow. What caused that?

You want to come visit? the pen wrote. This is getting really boring.

Sorry, she wrote back to Adolin, I really need to get this work done. It might be nice to have a spanreed conversation to keep me company, though.

Pattern hummed softly beside her at the lie. Shallan had used an illusion to expand the size of the shed atop this tenement in Sebarial’s warcamp, providing a hidden place to sit and watch the street below. Five hours of waiting—comfortable enough, with the stool and spheres for light—had revealed nothing. Nobody had approached the lone stone-barked tree growing beside the pathway.

She didn’t know the species. It was too old to have been planted there recently; it must predate Sebarial’s arrival. The gnarled, sturdy bark made her think it was some variety of dendrolith, but the tree also had long fronds that rose into the air like streamers, twisting and fluttering in the wind. Those were reminiscent of a dalewillow. She’d already done a sketch; she would look it up in her books later.

The tree was used to people, and didn’t pull in its fronds as they passed it. If someone had approached carefully enough to avoid brushing the fronds, Shallan would have spotted them. If, instead, they’d moved quickly, the fronds would have felt the vibrations and withdrawn—which she also would have spotted. She was reasonably certain that if anyone had tried to fetch the item in the tree, she’d have known it, even if she’d been looking away for a moment.

I suppose, the pen wrote, I can continue to keep you company. Shoren isn’t doing anything else.

Shoren was the ardent who wrote for Adolin today, come to visit by Adolin’s order. The prince had pointedly noted that he was using an ardent, rather than one of his father’s scribes. Did he think she’d grow jealous if he used another woman for scribing duties?

He did seem surprised that she didn’t get jealous. Were the women of the court so petty? Or was Shallan the odd one, too relaxed? His eyes did wander, and she had to admit that wasn’t something that pleased her. And there was his reputation to consider. Adolin was said to have, in the past, changed relationships as frequently as other men changed coats.

Perhaps she should cling more firmly, but the thought of it nauseated her. Such behavior reminded her of Father, holding so tightly to everything that he eventually broke it all.

Yes, she wrote back to Adolin, using the board set on a box beside her, I’m certain the good ardent has nothing at all better to do than transcribe notes between two courting lighteyes.

He’s an ardent, Adolin sent. He likes to serve. It’s what they do.

I thought, she wrote, that saving souls was what they did.

He’s tired of that, Adolin sent. He told me that he already saved three this morning.

She smiled, checking on the tree—still no change. He did, did he? she wrote. Has them tucked away in his back pocket for safekeeping, I assume?

No, Father’s way was not right. If she wanted to keep Adolin, she had to try something far more difficult than just clinging to him. She’d have to be so irresistible that he didn’t want to let go. Unfortunately, this was one area where neither Jasnah’s training nor Tyn’s would help. Jasnah had been indifferent toward men, while Tyn had not talked about keeping men, only distracting them for a quick con.

Is your father feeling better? she wrote.

Yes, actually. He’s been up and about since yesterday, looking as strong as ever.

Good to hear, she wrote. The two continued exchanging idle comments, Shallan watching the tree. Mraize’s note had instructed her to come at sunrise and search the hole in the tree trunk for her instructions. So she’d come four hours early, while the sky was still dark, and sneaked up to the top of this building to watch.

Apparently, she hadn’t come early enough. She’d really wanted to get a view of them placing the instructions. “I don’t like this,” Shallan said, whispering to Pattern and ignoring the pen, which scribed Adolin’s next line to her. “Why didn’t Mraize just give me the instructions via spanreed? Why make me come here?”