Words of Radiance (The Stormlight Archive 2)

Kaladin met the eyes of a murderer.

“Yes,” Amaram said.

“What of his claim that you took your Blade and Plate from him?” Dalinar asked.

“Brightlord,” Amaram said, taking Dalinar by the arm, “I don’t know if the lad is touched in the head or merely starved for attention. Perhaps he served in my army, as he claims—he certainly bears the correct slave brand. But his allegations regarding me are obviously preposterous.”

Dalinar nodded to himself, as if this were all expected. “I believe an apology is due.”

Kaladin struggled to remain upright, his leg feeling weak. So this would be his final punishment. Apologizing to Amaram in public. A humiliation above all others.

“I—” Kaladin began.

“Not you, son,” Dalinar said softly.

Amaram turned, posture suddenly more alert—like that of a man preparing for a fight. “Surely you don’t believe these allegations, Dalinar!”

“A few weeks ago,” Dalinar said, “I received two special visitors in camp. One was a trusted servant who had come from Kholinar in secret, bringing a precious cargo. The other was that cargo: a madman who had arrived at the gates of Kholinar carrying a Shardblade.”

Amaram paled and stepped back, hand going to his side.

“I told my servant,” Dalinar said calmly, “to go drinking with your personal guard—he knew many of them—and talk of a treasure that the madman said had been hidden for years outside the warcamp. By my order, he then placed the madman’s Shardblade in a nearby cavern. After that, we waited.”

He’s summoning his Blade, Kaladin thought, looking at Amaram’s hand. Kaladin reached for his side knife, but Dalinar was already raising his own hand.

White mist coalesced in Dalinar’s fingers, and a Shardblade appeared, tip to Amaram’s throat. Wider than most, it was almost cleaverlike in appearance.

A Blade formed in Amaram’s hand a second later—a second too late. His eyes went wide as he stared at the silvery Blade held to his throat.

Dalinar had a Shardblade.

“I thought,” Dalinar said, “that if you had been willing to murder for one Blade, you would certainly be willing to lie for a second. And so, after I knew you’d sneaked in to see the madman on your own, I asked you to investigate his claims for me. I gave your conscience plenty of time to come clean, out of respect for our friendship. When you told me you’d found nothing—but in fact you had actually recovered the Shardblade—I knew the truth.”

“How?” Amaram hissed, looking at the Blade Dalinar held. “How did you get it back? I removed it from the cave. My men had it safe!”

“I wasn’t about to risk it just to prove a point,” Dalinar said, cold. “I bonded this Blade before we hid it away.”

“That week you spent ill,” Amaram said.

“Yes.”

“Damnation.”

Dalinar exhaled, a hissing sound through his teeth. “Why, Amaram? Of all people, I thought that you… Bah!” Dalinar’s grip on the weapon tightened, knuckles white. Amaram raised his chin, as if thrusting his neck toward the point of the Shardblade.

“I did it,” Amaram said, “and I would do it again. The Voidbringers will soon return, and we must be strong enough to face them. That means practiced, accomplished Shardbearers. In sacrificing a few of my soldiers, I planned to save many more.”

“Lies!” Kaladin said, stumbling forward. “You just wanted the Blade for yourself!”

Amaram looked Kaladin in the eyes. “I am sorry for what I did to you and yours. Sometimes, good men must die so that greater goals may be accomplished.”

Kaladin felt a gathering chill, a numbness that spread from his heart outward.

He’s telling the truth, he thought. He… honestly believes that he did the right thing.

Amaram dismissed his Blade, turning back to Dalinar. “What now?”

“You are guilty of murder—of killing men for personal wealth.”

“And what is it,” Amaram said, “when you send thousands of men to their deaths so that you may secure gemhearts, Dalinar? Is that different somehow? We all know that sometimes lives must be spent for the greater good.”

“Take off that cloak,” Dalinar growled. “You are no Radiant.”

Amaram reached up and undid it, then dropped it to the rock. He turned and started to walk away.

“No!” Kaladin said, stumbling after him.

“Let him go, son,” Dalinar said, sighing. “His reputation is broken.”

“He is still a murderer.”

“And we will try him fairly,” Dalinar said, “once I return. I can’t imprison him—Shardbearers are above that, and he’d cut his way out anyway. Either you execute a Shardbearer or you leave him free.”

Kaladin sagged, and Lopen appeared on one side, holding him up while Teft got under his other arm. He felt drained.

Sometimes lives must be spent for the greater good…

“Thank you,” Kaladin said to Dalinar, “for believing me.”

“I do listen sometimes, soldier,” Dalinar said. “Now go back to camp and get some rest.”

Kaladin nodded. “Sir? Stay safe out there.”

Dalinar smiled grimly. “If possible. At least now I’ve got a way to fight that assassin, if he arrives. With all of these Shardblades flying around lately, I figured having one myself made too much sense to ignore.” He narrowed his eyes, turning eastward. “Even if it feels… wrong somehow to hold one. Strange, that. Why should it feel wrong? Perhaps I just miss my old Blade.”

Dalinar dismissed the Blade. “Go,” he said, walking back toward his horse, where Highprince Roion—looking stunned—was watching Amaram stalk away, his personal guard of fifty joining him.

* * *

Yes, that was Aladar’s banner, joining Dalinar’s. Sadeas could make it out through the spyglass.

He lowered it, and sat quietly for a long, long time. So long that his guards, and even his wife, started to fidget and looked nervous. But there was no reason.

He quelled his annoyance.

“Let them die out there,” he said. “All four. Ialai, make a report for me. I would like to know… Ialai?”

His wife started, looking toward him.

“Is all well?”

“I was merely thinking,” she said, seeming distant. “About the future. And what it is going to bring. For us.”

“It is going to bring Alethkar new highprinces,” Sadeas said. “Make a report of which among our sworn highlords would be appropriate to take the place of those who will fall on Dalinar’s trip.” He tossed the spyglass back to the messenger. “We do nothing until they’re dead. This will end, it appears, with Dalinar killed by the Parshendi after all. Aladar can go with him, and to Damnation with the lot of them.”

He turned his horse and continued the day’s ride, his back pointedly toward the Shattered Plains.

Shallan’s Sketchbook: Whitespine

77. Trust

One danger in deploying such a potent weapon will be the potential encouragement of those exploring the Nahel bond. Care must be taken to avoid placing these subjects in situations of powerful stress unless you accept the consequences of their potential Investiture.