Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive 4)

“I see we have our map,” Jasnah said. “And our new general.”

“Indeed,” said the Mink, who was reading the troop numbers over Azir.

“Thoughts?” Jasnah asked, ever practical.

The Mink continued his inspection. Navani tried to guess what conclusions he’d draw. The war was happening on two main fronts. In Makabak—the region encompassing Azir and the many small kingdoms surrounding it—coalition forces continued to battle the singers over a specific region, the kingdom of Emul. The drawn-out conflicts were only the newest in a series of wars that had left the kingdom—once proud—war-torn and broken.

So far, neither side had an advantage. Azish armies, with the help of Alethi strategists, had recaptured some ground in northern Emul. However, they didn’t dare advance too far, as the wildcard of the region might come into play if they reached the south. Nestled behind Odium’s forces was the army of Tezim, the god-priest. A man they now knew was Ishar, the ancient Herald gone mad.

Tezim had been quiet lately, unfortunately. Dalinar had hoped he would rage against the rear lines of the singers, forcing them to fight pressed between two armies. As it stood, the brutal fighting in Emul continued at a standstill. The coalition could easily resupply its lines through the Oathgate to the north and Thaylen shipping to the south. The enemy had vast numbers of former parshmen and access to larger numbers of irregulars—Fused, in this case.

The Mink took in the details of this battlefront, studying the shipping and navy numbers with interest. “You control the entire Southern Depths?” he asked.

“The enemy has a navy, stolen from Thaylenah,” Jasnah said. “We have only the ships that we’ve managed to build since then, and the ones that escaped that fate. So our continued dominance is not assured. But following a singular victory by Fen’s navy four months ago, the enemy retreated their ships into Iriali waters to the far northwest. Currently, they seem content to control the northern seas while we control the south.”

The Mink nodded and moved to the east, inspecting the second of the war’s two battlefronts: the line between Alethkar and Jah Keved. Here, Navani’s captured homeland made a secure staging base for the enemy, who fought the coalition forces led by Taravangian and Dalinar.

Fighting on this front had mostly been skirmishes along the border. The Fused had so far refused to be caught in any traditional large-scale battles—and much of the border between Alethkar and Jah Keved was difficult terrain, making it easy for roving bands on both sides to raid and then vanish.

Dalinar felt that the coalition would soon need to make a large offensive. Navani agreed. The protracted nature of this war gave the advantage to the enemy. The coalition’s Radiant numbers were increasing slowly now, particularly with the honorspren withholding their support. However, the enemy singers—once untrained—were growing into better troops by the day, and more and more Fused were appearing. Dalinar wanted to push into Alethkar and seize the capital.

The Mink trailed through the illusory mountains along the Alethi border. So far, other than raids, Dalinar had focused on seizing control of the southwestern corner of Alethkar—the part that touched the Tarat Sea—to reinforce the coalition’s naval superiority in the south. The close proximity of Jah Keved—and the Oathgate in Vedenar—allowed them to field troops here with quick resupply.

It was the sole part of Alethkar they’d reclaimed so far. And it was a long, long way from the capital of Kholinar. Something had to be done. Each day their homeland remained in the enemy’s hands was another day for the people there to be beaten down, controlled. Another day for the enemy to further entrench, feeding its armies on the sweat of Alethi farmers.

It was a deep, unyielding kind of pain, thinking of Alethkar and knowing they were essentially a people in exile here in Urithiru. They’d lost their nation, and Dalinar—she knew—blamed himself. He thought if he’d been able to quash the squabbling highprinces and finish the war at the Shattered Plains, Alethkar would not have fallen.

“Yes…” the Mink said, squinting at the numbers of Alethi troops near the ocean in southern Alethkar, then glancing back at the Veden armies manning the border. “Yes. Tell me, why do you show me this? This intelligence is precious. You trust me quickly.”

“We don’t have much choice,” Jasnah said, causing him to turn toward her. “Have you followed the recent histories of Alethkar and Jah Keved, General?”

“I have had my own troubles,” he said, “but yes. Civil war in both countries.”

“Ours was not a civil war,” Dalinar said.

That was debatable. The rivalry with Sadeas, the contest on the Shattered Plains, the eventual turning of Amaram …

“Regardless of what you term it,” Jasnah said, “the last few years have been painful for our two kingdoms. Jah Keved lost practically its entire royal family—and most of its best generals—following the assassination of their king. We didn’t fare much better. Our command staff has been gutted several times over.”

“We are spread thin,” Dalinar said. “Many of our best field generals are needed in Azir. When I heard we had a chance to rescue the man who single-handedly held off the singer invasion for a year…”

Dalinar strode into the middle of the illusion, and it treated him differently—in subtle ways—from others. The color swirled near him, but the threads of Stormlight reached out, connecting to him. Like the arms of petitioners reaching toward their king.

“I want to know what you see,” Dalinar said, sweeping his hand over the map. “I want your analysis on what we’re doing. I want your help. In exchange, we will use our forces to recover Herdaz. Help me retake Alethkar, and I will spare no effort in seeing your people freed.”

“Having the Blackthorn on my side would be novel,” the Mink said. “Before I make any promises though, tell me why you have so many troops stationed here, here, and here.” He pointed at several fortifications on the southern border of Alethkar, near the ocean.

“We need to hold the ports,” Dalinar said.

“Hmm. Yes, I assume that excuse works for the others in your coalition?”

Dalinar drew his lips to a line, glancing at Jasnah. Behind her, Wit raised both eyebrows and leaned against the far wall. He was uncharacteristically quiet in meetings—but one could read entire strings of mockery in his expressions.

“The enemy concentrations are here, across the river,” the Mink said, pointing. “If you were truly concerned only with them, you’d fortify directly opposite to prevent a strike when the river runs dry between storms. You don’t. Curious. Of course, you’d be exposed from behind. It’s almost like you don’t trust the one watching your back.…”

The much shorter man met Dalinar’s gaze and left the words hanging in the air. Wit coughed into his hand.

“I believe Taravangian is working for the enemy,” Dalinar said, with a sigh. “One year ago, someone let enemy troops in to attack Urithiru, and—despite excuses and deflections that have convinced the others—I am certain Taravangian’s Radiant was the one who did it.”

“Dangerous,” the Mink said, “fighting in a war where your strongest ally is also your greatest fear. And Radiants, serving the other side? How could this be?”