Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“I…” Blood of my fathers. That was true.

Was that why he insisted on negotiating himself? Why he didn’t send ambassadors? Was it because deep down, he didn’t trust their gilded words and intricate promises, all contained in documents he couldn’t read? Pieces of paper that were somehow harder than the strongest Shardplate?

“The contests of kingdoms are supposed to be a masculine art,” he said. “I should be able to do this myself.”

The Stormfather rumbled, not truly in disagreement. Just in … amusement?

Dalinar finally settled onto one of the couches. Might as well eat something … except his cloth-wrapped lunch lay open, crumbs on the table, the wooden curry box empty save for a few drips. What on Roshar?

He slowly looked up at the other couch. The slender Reshi girl perched not on the seat, but up on the backrest. She wore an oversized Azish robe and cap, and was gnawing on the sausage Navani had packed with the meal, to be cut into the curry.

“Kind of bland,” she said.

“Soldier’s rations,” Dalinar said. “I prefer them.”

“’Cuz you’re bland?”

“I prefer not to let a meal become a distraction. Were you in here all along?”

She shrugged, continuing to eat his food. “You said something earlier. About men?”

“I … was beginning to realize that I’m uncomfortable with the idea of scribes controlling the fates of nations. The things women write are stronger than my military.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. Lots of boys is afraid of girls.”

“I’m not—”

“They say it changes when you grow up,” she said, leaning forward. “I wouldn’t know, because I ain’t going to grow. I figured it out. I just gotta stop eatin’. People that don’t eat, don’t get bigger. Easy.”

She said it all around mouthfuls of his food.

“Easy,” Dalinar said. “I’m sure.”

“I’m gonna start any day now,” she said. “You want that fruit, or…”

He leaned forward, pushing the two bowls of dried fruit toward her. She attacked them. Dalinar leaned back in the seat. This girl seemed so out of place. Though she was lighteyed—with pale, clear irises—that didn’t matter as much in the west. The regal clothing was too big on her, and she didn’t take care to keep her hair pulled back and tucked up under the cap.

This entire room—this entire city, really—was an exercise in ostentation. Metal leaf coated domes, the rickshaws, even large portions of the walls of this room. The Azish owned only a few Soulcasters, and famously one could make bronze.

The carpeting and couches displayed bright patterns of orange and red. The Alethi favored solid colors, perhaps some embroidery. The Azish preferred their decorations to look like the product of a painter having a sneezing fit.

In the middle of it all was this girl, who looked so simple. She swam through ostentation, but it didn’t stick to her.

“I listened to what they’re sayin’ in there, tight-butt,” the girl said. “Before comin’ here. I think they’re gonna deny you. They gots a finger.”

“I should think they have many fingers.”

“Nah, this is an extra one. Dried out, looks like it belonged to some gramma’s gramma, but it’s actually from an emperor. Emperor Snot-a-Lot or—”

“Snoxil?” Dalinar asked.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

“He was Prime when my ancestor sacked Azimir,” Dalinar said with a sigh. “It’s a relic.” The Azish could be a superstitious lot, for all their claims about logic and essays and codes of law. This relic was probably being used during their discussions as a reminder of the last time the Alethi had been in Azir.

“Yeah, well, all I know is he’s dead, so he ain’t got to worry about … about…”

“Odium.”

The Reshi girl shivered visibly.

“Could you go and talk to the viziers?” Dalinar asked. “Tell them that you think supporting my coalition is a good idea? They listened to you when you asked to unlock the Oathgate.”

“Nah, they listened to Gawx,” she said. “The geezers that run the city don’t like me much.”

Dalinar grunted. “Your name is Lift, right?”

“Right.”

“And your order?”

“More food.”

“I meant your order of Knights Radiant. What powers do you have?”

“Oh. Um … Edgedancer? I slip around and stuff.”

“Slip around.”

“It’s real fun. Except when I run into things. Then it’s only kinda fun.”

Dalinar leaned forward, wishing—again—he could go in and talk to all those fools and scribes.

No. For once, trust in someone else, Dalinar.



Lift cocked her head. “Huh. You smell like her.”

“Her?”

“The crazy spren who lives in the forest.”

“You’ve met the Nightwatcher?”

“Yeah … You?”

He nodded.

They sat there, uncomfortable, until the young girl handed one of her bowls of dried fruit toward Dalinar. He took a piece and chewed it in silence, and she took another.

They ate the entire bowl, saying nothing until the door opened. Dalinar jumped. Noura stood in the doorway, flanked by other viziers. Her eyes flickered toward Lift, and she smiled. Noura didn’t seem to think as poorly of Lift as the little girl indicated.

Dalinar stood up, feeling a sense of dread. He prepared his arguments, his pleas. They had to—

“The emperor and his council,” Noura said, “have decided to accept your invitation to visit Urithiru.”

Dalinar cut off his objection. Did she say accept?

“The Prime of Emul has almost reached Azir,” Noura said. “He brought the Sage with him, and they should be willing to join us. Unfortunately, following the parshman assault, Emul is a fraction of what it once was. I suspect he will be eager for any and every source of aid, and will welcome this coalition of yours.

“The prince of Tashikk has an ambassador—his brother—in the city. He’ll come as well, and the princess of Yezier is reportedly coming in person to plead for aid. We’ll see about her. I think she simply believes Azimir will be safer. She lives here half the year anyway.

“Alm and Desh have ambassadors in the city, and Liafor is always eager to join whatever we do, as long as they can cater the storming meetings. I can’t speak for Steen—they’re a tricky bunch. I doubt you want Tukar’s priest-king, and Marat is overrun. But we can bring a good sampling of the empire to join your discussions.”

“I…” Dalinar stammered. “Thank you!” It was actually happening! As they’d hoped, Azir was the linchpin.

“Well, your wife writes a good essay,” Noura said.

He started. “Navani’s essay was the one that convinced you? Not Jasnah’s?”

“Each of the three arguments were weighed favorably, and the reports from Thaylen City are encouraging,” Noura said. “That had no small part in our decision. But while Jasnah Kholin’s writing is every bit as impressive as her reputation suggests, there was something … more authentic about Lady Navani’s plea.”

“She is one of the most authentic people I know.” Dalinar smiled like a fool. “And she is good at getting what she wants.”