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

“But …”

“What is a man’s life worth?” Dalinar asked softly. “The slavemasters say one is worth about two emerald broams,” Kaladin said, frowning.

“And what do you say?”

“A life is priceless,” he said immediately, quoting his father.

Dalinar smiled, wrinkle lines extending from the corners of his eyes. “Coincidentally, that is the exact value of a Shardblade. So today, you and your men sacrificed to buy me twenty-six hundred priceless lives. And all I had to repay you with was a single priceless sword. I call that a bargain.”

“You really think it was a good trade, don’t you?” Kaladin said, amazed.

Dalinar smiled in a way that seemed strikingly paternal. “For my honor? Unquestionably. Go and lead your men to safety, soldier. Later tonight, I will have some questions for you.”

Kaladin glanced at Sadeas, who held his new Blade with awe. “You said you’d take care of Sadeas. This was what you intended?”

“This wasn’t taking care of Sadeas,” Dalinar said. “This was taking care of you and your men. I still have work to do today.”




Dalinar found King Elhokar in his palace sitting room.

Dalinar nodded once more to the guards outside, then closed the door. They seemed troubled. As well they should; his orders had been irregular. But they would do as told. They wore the king’s colors, blue and gold, but they were Dalinar’s men, chosen specifically for their loyalty.

The door shut with a snap. The king was staring at one of his maps, wearing his Shardplate. “Ah, Uncle,” he said, turning to Dalinar. “Good. I had wanted to speak with you. Do you know of these rumors about you and my mother? I realize that nothing untoward could be happening, but I do worry about what people think.”

Dalinar crossed the room, booted feet thumping on the rich rug. Infused diamonds hung in the corners of the room, and the carved walls had been set with tiny chips of quartz to sparkle and reflect the light.

“Honestly, Uncle,” Elhokar said, shaking his head. “I’m growing very intolerant of your reputation in camp. What they are saying reflects poorly on me, you see, and …” He trailed off as Dalinar stopped about a pace from him. “Uncle? Is everything all right? My door guards reported some kind of mishap with your plateau assault today, but my mind was full of thoughts. Did I miss anything vital?”

“Yes,” Dalinar said. Then he raised his leg and kicked the king in the chest.

The strength of the blow tossed the king backward against his desk. The fine wood shattered as the heavy Shardbearer crashed through it. Elhokar hit the floor, his breastplate cracked just faintly. Dalinar stepped up to him, then delivered another kick to the king’s side, cracking the breastplate again.

Elhokar began shouting in panic. “Guards! To me! Guards!”

Nobody came. Dalinar kicked again, and Elhokar cursed, catching his boot. Dalinar grunted, but bent down and grabbed Elhokar by the arm, then yanked him to his feet, tossing him toward the side of the room. The king stumbled on the rug, crashing through a chair. Round lengths of wood scattered, splinters spraying out.

Wide-eyed, Elhokar scrambled to his feet. Dalinar advanced on him.

“What has gone wrong with you, Uncle?” Elhokar yelled. “You’re mad! Guards! Assassin in the king’s chamber! Guards!” Elhokar tried to run for the door, but Dalinar threw his shoulder against the king, tossing the younger man to the ground again.

Elhokar rolled, but got a hand under himself and climbed to his knees, the other hand to the side. A puff of mist appeared in it as he summoned his Blade.

Dalinar kicked the king’s hand just as the Shardblade dropped into it. The blow knocked the Blade free, and it dissolved back to mist immediately.

Elhokar frantically swung a fist at Dalinar, but Dalinar caught it, then reached down and hauled the king to his feet. He pulled Elhokar forward and slammed his fist into the king’s breastplate. Elhokar struggled, but Dalinar repeated the move, smashing his gauntlet against the Plate, cracking the steel casings around his fingers, making the king grunt.

The next blow shattered Elhokar’s breastplate in an explosion of molten shards.

Dalinar dropped the king to the floor. Elhokar struggled to rise again, but the breastplate was a focus for the Shardplate’s power. Missing it left arms and legs heavy. He went to one knee beside the squirming king. Elhokar’s Shardblade formed again, but Dalinar grabbed the king’s wrist and smashed it against the stone floor, knocking the Blade free yet again. It vanished into mist.

“Guards!” Elhokar squealed. “Guards, guards, guards!”

“They won’t come, Elhokar,” Dalinar said softly. “They’re my men, and I left them with orders not to enter—or let anyone else enter—no matter what they heard. Even if that included pleas for help from you.”

Elhokar fell silent.

“They are my men, Elhokar,” Dalinar repeated. “I trained them. I placed them there. They’ve always been loyal to me.”

“Why, Uncle? What are you doing? Please, tell me.” He was nearly weeping.

Dalinar leaned down, getting close enough to smell the king’s breath. “The girth on your horse during the hunt,” Dalinar said quietly. “You cut it yourself, didn’t you?”

Elhokar’s eyes grew wider.

“The saddles were switched before you came to my camp,” Dalinar said. “You did that because you didn’t want to ruin your favorite saddle when it flew free of the horse. You were planning for it to happen, you made it happen. That’s why you’ve been so certain that the girth was cut.”

Cringing, Elhokar nodded. “Someone was trying to kill me, but you wouldn’t believe! I … I worried it might be you! So I decided … I …”

“You cut your own strap,” Dalinar said, “to create a visible, obvious-seeming attempt on your life. Something that would get me or Sadeas to investigate.”

Elhokar hesitated, then nodded again.

Dalinar closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. “Don’t you realize what you did, Elhokar? You brought suspicion on me from across the camps! You gave Sadeas an opportunity to destroy me.” He opened his eyes, looking down at the king.

“I had to know,” Elhokar whispered. “I couldn’t trust anyone.” He groaned beneath Dalinar’s weight.

“What of the cracked gemstones in your Shardplate? Did you place those too?”

“No.”

“Then maybe you did uncover something,” Dalinar said with a grunt. “I guess you can’t be completely blamed.”

“Then you’ll let me up?”

“No.” Dalinar leaned down farther. He laid a hand against the king’s chest. Elhokar stopped struggling, looking up in terror. “If I push,” Dalinar said, “you die. Your ribs crack like twigs, your heart is smashed like a grape. Nobody would blame me. They all whisper that the Blackthorn should have taken the throne for himself years ago. Your guard is loyal to me. There would be nobody to avenge you. Nobody would care.”

Elhokar breathed out as Dalinar pressed his hand down just slightly. “Do you understand?” Dalinar asked quietly.