Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive 3)

“Oh,” Lyn said. “A scribe.”

“Of course,” Kaladin said, turning back toward her in the hallway, frowning. “You’re a woman, aren’t you?”

“I thought you were asking … I mean, in the highprince’s visions, there were women who were Knights Radiant, and with Brightness Shallan…” She blushed. “Sir, I didn’t join the scouts because I liked sitting around staring at ledgers. If that’s what you’re offering, I’ll have to pass.”

Her shoulders fell, and she wouldn’t meet Kaladin’s eyes. Sigzil found, strangely, that he wanted to punch his captain. Not hard, mind you. Just a gentle “wake up” punch. He couldn’t remember feeling that way with Kaladin since the time the captain had woken him up that first morning, back in Sadeas’s warcamp.

“I see,” Kaladin said. “Well … we’re going to have tryouts to join the order proper. I suppose I could extend you an invitation. If you’d like.”

“Tryouts?” she said. “For real positions? Not just doing accounts? Storms, I’m in.”

“Speak with your superior, then,” Kaladin said. “I haven’t devised the proper test yet, and you’d need to pass it before you could be let in. Either way, you’d need clearance to change battalions.”

“Yes, sir!” she said, and bounded off.

Kaladin watched her go, then grunted softly.

Sigzil—without even thinking about it—mumbled, “Did your master teach you to be that insensitive?”

Kaladin eyed him.

“I have a suggestion, sir,” Sigzil continued. “Try to understand what people want out of life, and respect that, rather than projecting onto them what you think they should—”

“Shut it, Sig.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

They continued on their way, and Kaladin cleared his throat. “You don’t have to be so formal with me, you know.”

“I know, sir. But you’re a lighteyes now, and a Shardbearer and … well, it feels right.”

Kaladin stiffened, but didn’t contradict him. In truth, Sigzil had always felt … awkward trying to treat Kaladin like any other bridgeman. Some of the others could do it—Teft and Rock, Lopen in his own strange way. But Sigzil felt more comfortable when the relationship was set out and clear. Captain and his clerk.

Moash had been the closest to Kaladin, but he wasn’t in Bridge Four any longer. Kaladin hadn’t said what Moash had done, only that he had “removed himself from our fellowship.” Kaladin got stiff and unresponsive whenever Moash’s name was mentioned.

“Anything else on that list of yours?” Kaladin asked as they passed a guard patrol in the hallway. He received crisp salutes.

Sigzil looked through his notebook. “Accounts and the need for scribes … Code of morals for the men … Recruitment … Oh, we’re still going to need to define our place in the army, now that we’re no longer bodyguards.”

“We’re still bodyguards,” Kaladin said. “We just protect anyone who needs it. We have bigger problems, in that storm.”

It had come again, a third time, this event proving that it was even more regular than the highstorms. Right around every nine days. Up high as they were, its passing was only a curiosity—but throughout the world, each new arrival strained already beleaguered cities.

“I realize that, sir,” Sigzil said. “But we still have to worry about procedure. Here, let me ask this. Are we, as Knights Radiant, still an Alethi military organization?”

“No,” Kaladin said. “This war is bigger than Alethkar. We’re for all mankind.”

“All right, then what’s our chain of command? Do we obey King Elhokar? Are we still his subjects? And what dahn or nahn are we in society? You’re a Shardbearer in Dalinar’s court, aren’t you?

“Who pays the wages of Bridge Four? What about the other bridge crews? If there is a squabble over Dalinar’s lands in Alethkar, can he call you—and Bridge Four—up to fight for him, like a normal liege-vassal relationship? If not, then can we still expect him to pay us?”

“Damnation,” Kaladin breathed.

“I’m sorry, sir. It—”

“No, they’re good questions, Sig. I’m lucky to have you to ask them.” He clasped Sigzil on the shoulder, stopping in the hallway just outside the quartermaster’s offices. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re wasted in Bridge Four. You should’ve been a scholar.”

“Well, that wind blew past me years ago, sir. I…” He took a deep breath. “I failed the exams for government training in Azir. I wasn’t good enough.”

“Then the exams were stupid,” Kaladin said. “And Azir lost out, because they missed the chance to have you.”

Sigzil smiled. “I’m glad they did.” And … strangely, he felt it was true. A nameless weight he’d been carrying seemed to slide off his back. “Honestly, I feel like Lyn. I don’t want to be huddled over a ledger when Bridge Four takes to the air. I want to be first into the sky.”

“I think you’ll have to fight Lopen for that distinction,” Kaladin said with a chuckle. “Come on.” He strode into the quartermaster’s office, where a group of waiting guardsmen immediately made space for him. At the counter, a beefy soldier with rolled-up sleeves searched through boxes and crates, muttering to himself. A stout woman—presumably his wife—inspected requisition forms. She nudged the man and pointed at Kaladin.

“Finally!” the quartermaster said. “I’m tired of having these here, drawing everyone’s eyes and making me sweat like a spy with too many spren.”

He shuffled over to a pair of large black sacks in the corner that, best that Sigzil could tell, weren’t drawing any eyes at all. The quartermaster hefted them and glanced at the scribe, who double-checked a few forms, then nodded, presenting them for Kaladin to stamp with his captain’s seal. Paperwork done, the quartermaster handed a sack to Kaladin and another to Sigzil.

They clinked when moved, and were surprisingly heavy. Sigzil undid the ties and glanced into his.

A flood of green light, powerful as sunlight, shone out over him. Emeralds. The large type, not in spheres, probably cut from the gemhearts of chasmfiends hunted on the Shattered Plains. In a moment, Sigzil realized that the guards filling the room weren’t here to get something from the quartermaster. They were here to protect this wealth.

“That’s the royal emerald reserve,” the quartermaster said. “Held for emergency grain, renewed with Light in the storm this morning. How you talked the highprince into letting you take it is beyond me.”

“We’re only borrowing them,” Kaladin said. “We’ll have them back before evening arrives. Though be warned, some will be dun. We’ll need to check them out tomorrow again. And the day after that…”

“I could buy a princedom for that much,” the quartermaster said with a grunt. “What in Kelek’s name do you need them for?”

Sigzil, however, had already guessed. He grinned like a fool. “We’re going to practice being Radiant.”