“Never box in an enemy, Kadash,” Dalinar said. “You want them to be able to retreat, or they’ll fight you worse for it. A rout will serve us better than an extermination. How many people did we lose?”

“Barely two hundred.”

Dalinar nodded. Minimal losses, while delivering a devastating blow.

“Sir,” Kadash said. “I’d say this raiding group is done for.”

“We’ve still got many more to dig out. This will last years yet.”

“Unless the Vedens send in an entire army and engage us in force.”

“They won’t,” Dalinar said, rubbing his forehead. “Their king is too shrewd. It isn’t full-on war he wants; he only wanted to see if any contested land had suddenly become uncontested.”

“Yes, Brightlord.”

“Thank you for the report. Now get out of here and post some storming guards at the front so I can rest. Don’t let anyone in, not even the Nightwatcher herself.”

“Yes, sir.” Kadash crossed the tent to the flaps. “Um … sir, you were incredible out there. Like a tempest.”

Dalinar just closed his eyes and leaned back, fully determined to fall asleep in his clothing.

Sleep, unfortunately, refused to come. The report set his mind to considering implications.

His army had only one Soulcaster, for emergencies, which meant supply trains. These borderlands were expansive, hilly, and the Vedens had better generals than the Herdazians. Defeating a mobile enemy was going to be hard in such circumstances, as this first battle proved. It would take planning, maneuvering, and skirmish after skirmish to pin the various groups of Vedens down and bring them into proper battle.

He yearned for those early days, when their fights had been more rowdy, less coordinated. Well, he wasn’t a youth anymore, and he’d learned in Herdaz that he no longer had Gavilar to do the hard parts of this job. Dalinar had camps to supply, men to feed, and logistics to work out. This was almost as bad as being back in the city, listening to scribes talk about sewage disposal.

Save for one difference: Out here, he had a reward. At the end of all the planning, the strategy, and the debates with generals, came the Thrill.

In fact, through his exhaustion, he was surprised to find that he could sense it still. Deep down, like the warmth of a rock that had known a recent fire. He was glad that the fighting had dragged on all these years. He was glad that the Herdazians had tried to seize that land, and that now the Vedens wanted to test him. He was glad that other highprinces weren’t sending aid, but waiting to see what he could accomplish on his own.

Most of all, he was glad that—despite today’s important battle—the conflict was not over. Storms, he loved this feeling. Today, hundreds had tried to bring him down, and he’d left them ashen and broken.

Outside his tent, people demanding his attention were turned away one after another. He tried not to feel pleasure each time. He would answer their questions eventually. Just … not now.

Thoughts finally released their grip on his brain, and he dipped toward slumber. Until one unexpected voice jerked him out of it and sent him bolting upright.

That was Evi.

He leapt to his feet. The Thrill surged again within him, drawn out of its own slumber. Dalinar ripped open the tent’s front flaps and gaped at the blonde-haired woman standing outside, wearing a Vorin havah—but with sturdy walking boots sticking out below.

“Ah,” Evi said. “Husband.” She looked him up and down, and her expression soured, lips puckering. “Has no person seen fit to order him a bath? Where are his grooms, to see him undressed properly?”

“Why are you here?” Dalinar demanded. He hadn’t intended to roar it, but he was so tired, so shocked …

Evi leaned backward before the outburst, eyes opening wide.

He briefly felt a spike of shame. But why should he? This was his warcamp—here he was the Blackthorn. This was the place where his domestic life should have no purchase on him! By coming here, she invaded that.

“I…” Evi said. “I … Other women are at the camp. Other wives. It is common, for women to go to war.…”

“Alethi women,” Dalinar snapped, “trained to it from childhood and acquainted with the ways of warfare. We spoke of this, Evi. We—” He halted, looking at the guards. They shuffled uncomfortably.

“Come inside, Evi,” Dalinar said. “Let’s discuss this in private.”

“Very well. And the children?”

“You brought our children to the battlefront?” Storms, she didn’t even have the sense to leave them at the town the army was using as a long-term command post?

“I—”

“In,” Dalinar said, pointing at the tent.

Evi wilted, then scuttled to obey, cringing as she passed him. Why had she come? Hadn’t he just been back to Kholinar to visit? That had been … recent, he was sure.…

Or maybe not so recent. He did have several letters from Evi that Teleb’s wife had read to him, with several more waiting to be read. He dropped the flaps back into position and turned toward Evi, determined not to let his frayed patience rule him.

“Navani said I should come,” Evi said. “She said it was shameful that you have waited so long between visits. Adolin has gone over a year without seeing you, Dalinar. And little Renarin has never even met his father.”

“Renarin?” Dalinar said, trying to work out the name. He hadn’t picked that. “Rekher … no, Re…”

“Re,” Evi said. “From my language. Nar, after his father. In, to be born unto.”

Stormfather, that was a butchering of the language. Dalinar fumbled, trying to work through it. Nar meant “like unto.”

“What does ‘Re’ mean in your language?” Dalinar asked, scratching his face.

“It has no meaning,” Evi said. “It is simply the name. It means our son’s name, or him.”

Dalinar groaned softly. So the child’s name was “Like one who was born unto himself.” Delightful.

“You didn’t answer,” Evi pointed out, “when I asked after a name via spanreed.”

How had Navani and Ialai allowed this travesty of a name? Storms … knowing those two, they’d probably encouraged it. They were always trying to get Evi to be more forceful. He moved to get something to drink, but then remembered that this wasn’t actually his tent. There wasn’t anything in here to drink but armor oil.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Dalinar said. “It is dangerous out here.”

“I wish to be a more Alethi wife. I want you to want me to be with you.”

He winced. “Well, you still should not have brought the children.” Dalinar slumped down into the cushions. “They are heirs to the princedom, assuming this plan of Gavilar’s with the Crownlands and his own throne works out. They need to remain safe in Kholinar.”

“I thought you’d want to see them,” Evi said, stepping up to him. Despite his harsh words, she unbuckled the top of his gambeson to get her hands under it, and began rubbing his shoulders.

It felt wonderful. He let his anger melt away. It would be good to have a wife with him, to scribe as was proper. He just wished that he didn’t feel so guilty at seeing her. He was not the man she wanted him to be.

Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy
Source: readsnovelonline.net