They reached an intersection. Shallan looked one way, then the other. “Upward, I’d guess,” she said.
“Kings do like to be at the top of everything,” Vathah said. “Attitude might get you past the outer door, Brightness, but it’s not going to get you in to see Kholin.”
“Are you really his betrothed?” Gaz asked nervously, scratching at his eye patch.
“Last I checked,” Shallan said, leading the way. “Which, granted, was before my ship sank.” She wasn’t worried about getting in to see Kholin. She’d at least get an audience.
They continued upward, asking servants for directions. Those scuttled about in clusters, jumping when spoken to. Shallan recognized that kind of timidity. Was the king as terrible a master as her father had been?
As they went higher, the structure seemed less like a fortress and more like a palace. There were reliefs on the walls, mosaics on the floor, carved shutters, an increasing number of windows. By the time they approached the king’s conference chamber near the top, wood trim framed the stone walls, with silver and gold leaf worked into the carvings. Lamps held massive sapphires, beyond the size of ordinary denominations, radiating bright blue light. At least she wouldn’t lack for Stormlight, should she need it.
The passage into the king’s conference room was clogged with men. Soldiers in a dozen different uniforms.
“Damnation,” Gaz said. “Those are Sadeas’s colors there.”
“And Thanadal, and Aladar, and Ruthar . . .” Vathah said. “He’s meeting with all the highprinces, as I said.”
Shallan could pick out factions easily, dredging from her studies of Jasnah’s book the names—and heraldry—of all ten highprinces. Sadeas’s soldiers chatted with those of Highprince Ruthar and Highprince Aladar. Dalinar’s stood alone, and Shallan could sense hostility between them and the others in the hallway.
Dalinar’s guards had very few lighteyes among them. That was odd. And did that one man at the door look familiar? The tall darkeyed man with the blue coat that went down to his knees. The man with the shoulder-length hair, curling slightly . . . He was speaking in a low voice with another soldier, who was one of the men from the gates below.
“Looks like they beat us up here,” Vathah said softly.
The man turned and looked her right in the eyes, then glanced down toward her feet.
Oh no.
The man—an officer, by the uniform—strode directly toward her. He ignored the hostile stares of the other highprinces’ soldiers as he walked right up to Shallan. “Prince Adolin,” he said flatly, “is engaged to a Horneater?”
She’d almost forgotten the encounter two days outside of the warcamps. I’m going to strangle that— She cut off, feeling a stab of depression. She had ended up killing Tyn.
“Obviously not,” Shallan said, raising her chin and not using the Horneater accent. “I was traveling alone through the wilderness. Revealing my true identity did not seem prudent.”
The man grunted. “Where are my boots?”
“Is this how you address a lighteyed lady of rank?”
“It’s how I address a thief,” the man said. “I’d just gotten those boots.”
“I’ll have a dozen new pairs sent to you,” Shallan said. “After I have spoken with Highprince Dalinar.”
“You think I’m going to let you see him?”
“You think you get to choose?”
“I’m captain of his guard, woman.”
Blast, she thought. That was going to be inconvenient. At least she wasn’t trembling from the confrontation. She really was past that. Finally.
“Well tell me, Captain,” she said. “What is your name?”
“Kaladin.” Odd. That sounded like a lighteyes’s name.
“Excellent. Now I have a name to use when I tell the highprince about you. He’s not going to like his son’s betrothed being treated this way.”
Kaladin waved to several of his soldiers. The men in blue surrounded her and Vathah and . . .
Where had Gaz gotten off to?
She turned and found him backing down the corridor. Kaladin spotted him, and started visibly.
“Gaz?” Kaladin demanded. “What is this?”
“Uh . . .” The one-eyed man stammered. “Lordsh . . . Um, Kaladin. You’re, ah, an officer? So things have been going well for you . . .”
“You know this man?” Shallan asked Kaladin.
“He tried to get me killed,” Kaladin said, voice even. “On multiple occasions. He’s one of the most hateful little rats I’ve ever known.”
Great.
“You’re not Adolin’s betrothed,” Kaladin said, meeting her gaze as several of his men gleefully seized Gaz, who had backed into other guards coming up from below. “Adolin’s betrothed has drowned. You are an opportunist with a very bad sense of timing. I doubt that Dalinar Kholin will be pleased to find a swindler trying to capitalize on the death of his niece.”
She finally started to feel nervous. Vathah glanced at her, obviously worried that this Kaladin’s guesses were correct. Shallan steadied herself and reached into her safepouch, pulling out a piece of paper she’d found in Jasnah’s notes. “Is Highlady Navani in that room?”
Kaladin didn’t reply.
“Show her this, please,” Shallan said.
Kaladin hesitated, then took the sheet. He looked it over, but obviously couldn’t tell that he was holding it upside down. It was one of the written communications between Jasnah and her mother, arranging for the causal. Communicated via spanreed, there would be two copies—the one that had been written on Jasnah’s side, and the one on Brightness Navani’s side.
“We’ll see,” Kaladin said.
“We’ll . . .” Shallan found herself sputtering. If she couldn’t get in to see Dalinar, then . . . Then . . . Storm this man! She took his arm in her freehand as he turned to give orders to his men. “Is this really all because I lied to you?” she demanded more softly.
He looked back at her. “It’s about doing my job.”
“Your job is to be offensive and asinine?”
“No, I’m offensive and asinine on my own time too. My job is to keep people like you away from Dalinar Kholin.”
“I guarantee he will want to see me.”
“Well, forgive me for not trusting the word of a Horneater princess. Would you like some shells to chew on while my men tow you away to the dungeons?”
All right, that’s enough.
“The dungeons sound wonderful!” she said. “At least there, I’d be away from you, idiot man!”
“Only for a short time. I’d be by to interrogate you.”
“What? I couldn’t pick a more pleasant option? Like being executed?”
“You’re assuming I could find a hangman willing to put up with your blathering long enough to fit the rope.”
“Well, if you want to kill me, you could always let your breath do the job.”
He reddened, and several guards nearby started snickering. They tried to stifle their reaction as Captain Kaladin looked at them.
“I should envy you,” he said, turning back to her. “My breath needs to be up close to kill, while that face of yours can kill any man from a distance.”
“Any man?” she asked. “Why, it’s not working on you. I guess that’s proof that you’re not much of a man.”
“I misspoke. I didn’t mean any man, just males of your own species—but don’t worry, I’ll take care not to let our chulls get close.”
“Oh? Your parents are in the area, then?”
His eyes widened, and for the first time she seemed to have really gotten under his skin. “My parents have nothing to do with this.”
“Yes, that makes sense. I’d expect that they want nothing to do with you.”
“At least my ancestors had the sense not to breed with a sponge!” he snapped, probably a reference to her red hair.
“At least I know my parentage!” she snapped back.
They glared at each other. Part of Shallan felt satisfaction at being able to make him lose his temper, though from the heat she felt in her face, she’d let go of hers as well. Jasnah would have been disappointed. How often had she tried to get Shallan to control her tongue? True wit was controlled wit. It shouldn’t be allowed to run free, any more than an arrow should be loosed in a random direction.
For the first time, Shallan realized that the large hallway had grown silent. A great number of the soldiers and attendants were staring at her and the officer.
“Bah!” Kaladin shook her arm free of his—she hadn’t let go after getting his attention earlier. “I revise my opinion of you. You’re obviously a highborn lighteyes. Only they are capable of being this infuriating.” He stalked away from her toward the doors to the king’s chamber.
Nearby, Vathah relaxed visibly. “Getting into a shouting match with the head of Highprince Dalinar’s guard?” he whispered to her. “Was that wise?”
“We created an incident,” she said, calming herself. “Now Dalinar Kholin will hear of this one way or another. That guardsman won’t be able to keep my arrival secret from him.”
Vathah hesitated. “So it was part of the plan.”
“Hardly,” Shallan said. “I’m not nearly that clever. But it should work anyway.” She looked to Gaz, who was released by Kaladin’s guards so he could join the two of them, though all were still under careful watch.
“Even for a deserter,” Vathah said under his breath, “you’re a coward, Gaz.”
Gaz just stared at the ground.
“How do you know him?” Shallan asked.
“He was a slave,” Gaz said, “at the lumberyards where I used to work. Storming man. He’s dangerous, Brightness. Violent, a troublemaker. I don’t know how he got to such a high position in such a short time.”
Kaladin hadn’t entered the conference chamber. However, the doors cracked a moment later. The meeting appeared to be over, or at least on break. Several aides rushed in to see if their highprinces needed anything, and chatter started up among the guards. Captain Kaladin shot her a glance, then reluctantly entered, carrying her sheet of paper.
Shallan forced herself to stand with hands clasped before her—one sleeved, the other not—to keep herself from looking nervous. Eventually, Kaladin stepped back out, a look of annoyed resignation on his face. He pointed at her, then thumbed over his shoulder, indicating she could enter. His guards let her pass, though they restrained Vathah when he tried to follow her.
She waved him back, took a deep breath, then strode through the moving crowd of soldiers and aides, entering the king’s conference chamber.