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

Dalinar stood with hands clasped behind his back, looking out over the Shattered Plains. He was on one of the lower terraces outside Elhokar’s elevated palace—the king didn’t reside in one of the ten warcamps, but in a small compound elevated along a hillside nearby. Dalinar’s climb to the palace had been interrupted by the horns.

He stood long enough see Sadeas’s army gathering inside his camp. Dalinar could have sent a soldier to prepare his own men. He was close enough.

“Brightlord?” a voice asked from the side. “Do you wish to continue?”

You protect him your way, Sadeas, Dalinar thought. I’ll protect him my way.

“Yes, Teshav,” he said, turning to continue walking up the switchbacks. Teshav joined him. She had streaks of blond in her otherwise black Alethi hair, which she wore up in an intricate crossing weave. She had violet eyes, and her pinched face bore a concerned expression. That was normal; she always seemed to need something to worry about.

Teshav and her attendant scribe were both wives of his officers. Dalinar trusted them. Mostly. It was hard to trust anyone completely. Stop it, he thought. You’re starting to sound as paranoid as the king.

Regardless, he’d be very glad for Jasnah’s return. If she ever decided to return. Some of his higher officers hinted to him that he should marry again, if only to have a woman who could be his primary scribe. They thought he rejected their suggestions because of love for his first wife. They didn’t know that she was gone, vanished from his mind, a blank patch of fog in his memory. Though, in a way, his officers were right. He hesitated to remarry because he hated the idea of replacing her. He’d had everything of his wife taken from him. All that remained was the hole, and filling it to gain a scribe seemed callous.

Dalinar continued on his way. Other than the two women, he was attended by Renarin and three members of the Cobalt Guard. The latter wore deep blue felt caps and cloaks over silvery breastplates and deep blue trousers. They were lighteyes of low rank, able to carry swords for close fighting.

“Well, Brightlord,” Teshav said, “Brightlord Adolin asked me to report the progress of the saddle girth investigation. He’s speaking with leatherworkers at this very moment, but so far, there is very little to say. Nobody witnessed anyone interfering with the saddle or His Majesty’s horse. Our spies say there are no whispers of anyone in the other warcamps bragging, and nobody in our camp has suddenly received large sums of money, so far as we’ve discovered.”

“The grooms?”

“Say they checked over the saddle,” she said, “but when pressed, they admit that they can’t specifically remember checking the girth.” She shook her head. “Carrying a Shardbearer places great strain on both horse and saddle. If there were only some way to tame more Ryshadium.…”

“I think you’ll sooner tame the highstorms, Brightness. Well, this is good news, I suppose. Better for us all that this strap business turns out to be nothing. Now, there is another item I wish you to look into.”

“It is my pleasure to serve, Brightlord.”

“Highprince Aladar has begun to talk of taking a short vacation back to Alethkar. I want to know if he’s serious.”

“Yes, Brightlord.” Teshav nodded. “Would that be a problem?”

“I’m honestly not sure.” He didn’t trust the highprinces, but at least with them all here, he could watch them. If one of them returned to Alethkar, the man could scheme unchecked. Of course, even brief visits might help stabilize their homeland.

Which was more important? Stability or the ability to watch over the others? Blood of my fathers, he thought. I wasn’t made for this politicking and scheming. I was made to wield a sword and ride down enemies.

He’d do what needed to be done anyway. “I believe you said you had information on the king’s accounts, Teshav?”

“Indeed,” she said as they continued the short hike. “You were correct to have me look into the ledgers, as it appears that three of the highprinces—Thanadal, Hatham, and Vamah—are well behind in their payments. Other than yourself, only Highprince Sadeas has actually paid ahead on what is owed, as the tenets of war require.”

Dalinar nodded. “The longer this war stretches, the more comfortable the highprinces are getting. They’re starting to question. Why pay high wartime rates for Soulcasting? Why not move farmers out here and start growing their own food?”

“Pardon, Brightlord,” Teshav said as they turned around a switchback. Her attendant scribe walked behind, several ledgers clipped to boards carried in a satchel. “But do we really wish to discourage that? A second stream of supplies could be valuable as a redundancy.”

“The merchants already provide redundancy,” Dalinar said. “Which is one of the reasons I haven’t chased them off. I wouldn’t mind another, but the Soulcasters are the only hold we have on the highprinces. They owed Gavilar loyalty, but they feel little of that for his son.” Dalinar narrowed his eyes. “This is a vital point, Teshav. Have you read the histories I suggested?”

“Yes, Brightlord.”

“Then you know. The most fragile period in a kingdom’s existence comes during the lifetime of its founder’s heir. During the reign of a man like Gavilar, men stay loyal because of their respect for him. During subsequent generations, men begin to see themselves as part of a kingdom, a united force that holds together because of tradition.

“But the son’s reign … that’s the dangerous point. Gavilar isn’t here to hold everyone together, but there isn’t yet a tradition of Alethkar being a kingdom. We’ve got to carry on long enough for the highprinces to begin seeing themselves as part of a greater whole.”

“Yes, Brightlord.”

She didn’t question. Teshav was deeply loyal to him, as were most of his officers. They didn’t question why it was so important to him that the ten princedoms regard themselves as one nation. Perhaps they assumed it was because of Gavilar. Indeed, his brother’s dream of a united Alethkar was part of it. There was something else, though.

The Everstorm comes. The True Desolation. The Night of Sorrows.

He suppressed a shiver. The visions certainly didn’t make it sound like he had a great deal of time to prepare.

“Draft a missive in the king’s name,” Dalinar said, “decreasing Soulcasting costs for those who have made their payments on time. That should wake up the others. Give it to Elhokar’s scribes and have them explain it to him. Hopefully he will agree with the need.”

“Yes, Brightlord,” Teshav said. “If I might note, I was quite surprised that you suggested I read those histories. In the past, such things haven’t been particular to your interests.”