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

“You just asked me to trust you,” Adolin said. “Besides, striking harder at the Parshendi? That’s a tactic I can get behind. We’ll need a good plan, though—a way to counter the very objections you yourself raised six years ago.”

Dalinar nodded, tapping the table with his finger. “Back then, even I thought of us as separate princedoms. If we had attacked the center individually, each army alone, we’d have been surrounded and destroyed. But if all ten armies went together? With our Soulcasters to provide food, with the soldiers carrying portable shelters to set up for highstorms? Over a hundred and fifty thousand troops? Let the Parshendi try to surround us then. With the Soulcasters, we could even create wood for bridges if we had to.”

“That would take a lot of trust,” Adolin said hesitantly. He glanced down the high table, toward Sadeas. His expression darkened. “We’d be stuck out there, together and isolated, for days. If the highprinces started squabbling midmarch, it could be disastrous.”

“We’ll get them to work together first,” Dalinar said. “We’re close, closer than we’ve ever been. Six years, and not a single highprince has allowed his soldiers to skirmish against those of another.”

Except back in Alethkar. There, they still fought meaningless battles over land rights or old offenses. It was ridiculous, but stopping the Alethi from warring was like trying to stop the winds from blowing.

Adolin was nodding. “It’s a good plan, Father. Far better than talk of retreating. They won’t like giving up the plateau skirmishes, though. They like the game of it.”

“I know. But if I can get one or two of them to start pooling soldiers and resources for plateau assaults, it might be a step toward what we’ll need for the future. I’d still rather find a way to lure a large force of Parshendi out onto the Plains and meet them on one of the larger plateaus, but I haven’t yet been able to figure out how to do that. Either way, our separate armies will need to learn to work together.”

“And what do we do about what people are saying about you?”

“I’ll release an official refutation,” Dalinar said. “I’ll have to be careful not to make it sound like the king was in error, while also explaining the truth.”

Adolin sighed. “An official refutation, Father?”

“Yes.”

“Why not fight a duel?” Adolin asked, leaning in, sounding eager. “Some stuffy pronouncement may explain your ideas, but it won’t make people feel them. Pick someone who is naming you coward, challenge them, and remind everyone what a mistake it is to insult the Blackthorn!”

“I cannot,” Dalinar said. “The Codes forbid it for one of my stature.” Adolin probably shouldn’t be dueling either, but Dalinar had not forced a complete prohibition on him. Dueling was his life. Well, that and the women he courted.

“Then charge me with the honor of our house,” Adolin said. “I’ll duel them! I’ll face them with Plate and Blade and show them what your honor means.”

“That would be the same thing as me doing it, son.”

Adolin shook his head, staring at Dalinar. He seemed to be searching for something.

“What?” Dalinar asked.

“I’m trying to decide,” Adolin said. “Which one has changed you most. The visions, the Codes, or that book. If there’s any difference between them.”

“The Codes are separate from the other two,” Dalinar said. “They are a tradition of old Alethkar.”

“No. They’re related, Father. All three. They’re tied together in you, somehow.”

Dalinar thought on that for a moment. Could the lad have a point? “Have I told you the story of the king carrying the boulder?”

“Yes,” Adolin said.

“I have?”

“Twice. And you made me listen to the passage being read another time.”

“Oh. Well, in that same section, there’s a passage about the nature of forcing people to follow you as opposed to letting them follow you. We do too much forcing in Alethkar. Dueling someone because they claim I’m a coward doesn’t change their beliefs. It might stop them from making the claims, but it doesn’t change hearts. I know I’m right about this. You’ll just have to trust me on this as well.”

Adolin sighed, standing. “Well, an official refutation is better than nothing, I guess. At least you haven’t given up on defending our honor entirely.”

“I never will,” Dalinar said. “I just need to be careful. I cannot afford to divide us any further.” He turned back to his meal, stabbing his last piece of chicken with his knife and shoving it in his mouth.

“I’ll get back to the other island, then,” Adolin said. “I … Wait, is that Aunt Navani?”

Dalinar looked up, surprised to see Navani walking toward them. Dalinar glanced at his plate. His food was gone; he’d eaten the last bit without realizing it.

He sighed, steeling himself, and rose to greet her. “Mathana,” Dalinar said, bowing and using the formal term for an older sister. Navani was only three months his senior, but it was still applicable.

“Dalinar,” she said, a faint smile on her lips. “And dear Adolin.”

Adolin smiled broadly; he rounded the table and hugged his aunt. She rested her clothed safehand on his shoulder, a gesture reserved only for family.

“When did you return?” Adolin asked, releasing her. “Just this afternoon.”

“And why did you return?” Dalinar asked stiffly. “I was under the impression that you were going to aid the queen in protecting the king’s interests in Alethkar.”

“Oh, Dalinar,” Navani said, voice fond. “So stiff, as always. Adolin, dear, how goes courtship?”

Dalinar snorted. “He continues to change partners like he’s in a dance that involves particularly quick music.”

“Father!” Adolin objected.

“Well, good for you, Adolin,” Navani said. “You’re too young to get tied down. The purpose of youth is to experience variety while it is still interesting.” She glanced at Dalinar. “It isn’t until we get older that we should be forced to be boring.”

“Thank you, Aunt,” Adolin said with a grin. “Excuse me. I need to go tell Renarin that you’ve returned.” He hurried away, leaving Dalinar standing awkwardly across the table from Navani.

“Am I that much of a threat, Dalinar?” Navani asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dalinar glanced down, realizing that he was still gripping his dining knife—a wide, serrated blade that could double as a weapon in a pinch. He let it clatter to the table, then winced at the noise. All of the confidence he’d felt speaking with Adolin seemed gone in a heartbeat.

Compose yourself! he thought. She’s just family. Every time he spoke with Navani, he felt as if he were facing a predator of the most dangerous breed.

“Mathana,” Dalinar said, realizing they were still standing on opposite sides of the narrow table. “Perhaps we should move to …”