The Way of Kings, Part 1 (The Stormlight Archive #1.1)

“Not your food. You. Your loyalty. Your allegiance.”

The older man continued to eat. He didn’t have a slave brand, and neither did Rock. Kaladin didn’t know their stories. All he knew was that these two had helped when others hadn’t. They weren’t completely beaten down.

“Teft—” Kaladin began.

“I’ve given my loyalty before,” the man said. “Too many times now. Always works out the same.”

“Your trust gets betrayed?” Kaladin asked softly.

Teft snorted. “Storms, no. I betray it. You can’t depend on me, son. I belong here, as a bridgeman.”

“I depended on you yesterday, and you impressed me.”

“Fluke.”

“I’ll judge that,” Kaladin said. “Teft, we’re all broken, in one way or another. Otherwise we wouldn’t be bridgemen. I’ve failed. My own brother died because of me.”

“So why keep caring?”

“It’s either that or give up and die.”

“And if death is better?”

It came back to this problem. This was why the bridgemen didn’t care if he helped the wounded or not.

“Death isn’t better,” Kaladin said, looking Teft in the eyes. “Oh, it’s easy to say that now. But when you stand on the ledge and look down into that dark, endless pit, you change your mind. Just like Hobber did. Just like I’ve done.” He hesitated, seeing something in the older man’s eyes. “I think you’ve seen it too.”

“Aye,” Teft said softly. “Aye, I have.”

“So, are you with us in this thing?” Rock said, squatting down.

Us? Kaladin thought, smiling faintly.

Teft looked back and forth between the two of them. “I get to keep my food?”

“Yes,” Kaladin said.

Teft shrugged. “All right then, I guess. Can’t be any harder than sitting here and having a staring contest with mortality.”

Kaladin held out a hand. Teft hesitated, then took it.

Rock held out a hand. “Rock.”

Teft looked at him, finished shaking Kaladin’s hand, then took Rock’s. “I’m Teft.”

Stormfather, Kaladin thought. I’d forgotten that most of them don’t even bother to learn each other’s names.

“What kind of name is Rock?” Teft asked, releasing the hand.

“Is a stupid one,” Rock said with an even face. “But at least it has meaning. Does your name mean anything?”

“I guess not,” Teft said, rubbing his bearded chin.

“Rock, this is not my real name,” the Horneater admitted. “Is just what lowlanders can pronounce.”

“What’s your real name, then?” Teft asked.

“You won’t be able to say it.”

Teft raised an eyebrow.

“Numuhukumakiaki’aialunamor,” Rock said.

Teft hesitated, then smiled. “Well, I guess in that case, Rock will do just fine.”

Rock laughed, settling down. “Our bridgeleader has a plan. Something glorious and daring. Has something to do with spending our afternoon moving stones in the heat.”

Kaladin smiled, leaning forward. “We need to gather a certain kind of plant. A reed that grows in small patches outside the camp.…”





In case you have turned a blind eye to that disaster, know that Aona and Skai are both dead, and that which they held has been Splintered. Presumably to prevent anyone from rising up to challenge Rayse.




Two days after the incident with the highstorm, Dalinar walked with his sons, crossing the rocky ground toward the king’s feasting basin. Dalinar’s stormwardens projected another few weeks of spring, followed by a return to summer. Hopefully it wouldn’t turn to winter instead.

“I’ve been to three more leatherworkers,” Adolin said softly. “They have different opinions. It seems that even before the strap was cut—if it was cut—it was worn, so that’s interfering with things. The best consensus has been that the strap was sliced, but not necessarily by a knife. It could have just been natural wear-and-tear.”

Dalinar nodded. “That’s the only evidence that even hints there might be something odd about the girth breaking.”

“So we admit that this was just a result of the king’s paranoia.”

“I’ll talk to Elhokar,” Dalinar decided. “Let him know we’ve run into a wall and see if there are any other avenues he’d like us to pursue.”

“That’ll do.” Adolin seemed to grow hesitant about something. “Father. Do you want to talk about what happened during the storm?”

“It was nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“But—”

“Enjoy the evening, Adolin,” Dalinar said firmly. “I’m all right. Perhaps it’s good for the men to see what is happening. Hiding it has only inspired rumors, some of them even worse than the truth.”

Adolin sighed, but nodded.

The king’s feasts were always outdoors, at the foot of Elhokar’s palace hill. If the stormwardens warned of a highstorm—or if more mundane weather turned bad—then the feast was canceled. Dalinar was glad for the outdoor location. Even with ornamentation, Soulcast buildings felt like caverns.

The feast basin had been flooded, turning it into a shallow artificial lake. Circular dining platforms rose like small stone islands in the water. The elaborate miniature landscape had been fabricated by the king’s Soulcasters, who had diverted the water from a nearby stream. It reminds me of Sela Tales, Dalinar thought as he crossed the first bridge. He’d visited that western region of Roshar during his youth. And the Purelake.

There were five islands, and the railings of the bridges connecting them were done in scrollwork so fine that after each feast, the railings had to be stowed away lest a highstorm ruin them. Tonight, flowers floated in the slow current. Periodically, a miniature boat—only a handspan wide—sailed past, bearing an infused gemstone.

Dalinar, Renarin, and Adolin stepped onto the first dining platform. “One cup of blue,” Dalinar said to his sons. “After that, keep to the orange.”

Adolin sighed audibly. “Couldn’t we, just this once—”

“So long as you are of my house, you follow the Codes. My will is firm, Adolin.”

“Fine,” Adolin said. “Come on, Renarin.” The two broke off from Dalinar to remain on the first platform, where the younger lighteyes congregated.

Dalinar crossed to the next island. This middle one was for the lesser lighteyes. To its left and right lay the segregated dining islands—men’s island on the right, women’s island on the left. On the three central ones, however, the genders mingled.