Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“Yes, I married a soldier. It’s my fault for not being strong enough to deal with the consequences. Thank you, Dalinar. You’ve made that very clear.”

This was what it was like to feel helpless. “I … thought you were growing to like it. You now fit in with the other women.”

“The other women? Dalinar, they make me feel stupid.”

“But…”

“Conversation is a contest to them,” Evi said, throwing her hands up. “Everything has to be a contest to you Alethi, always trying to show up everyone else. For the women it’s this awful, unspoken game to prove how witty they each are. I’ve thought … maybe the only answer, to make you proud, is to go to the Nightwatcher and ask for the blessing of intelligence. The Old Magic can change a person. Make something great of them—”

“Evi,” Dalinar cut in. “Please, don’t speak of that place or that creature. It’s blasphemous.”

“You say that, Dalinar,” she said. “But no one actually cares about religion here. Oh, they make sure to point out how superior their beliefs are to mine. But who actually ever worries about the Heralds, other than to swear by their names? You bring ardents to battle merely to Soulcast rocks into grain. That way, you don’t have to stop killing each other long enough to find something to eat.”

Dalinar approached, then settled down into the other seat by the hearth. “It is … different in your homeland?”

She rubbed her eyes, and he wondered if she’d see through his attempt to change the subject. Talking about her people often smoothed over their arguments.

“Yes,” she said. “True, there are those who don’t care about the One or the Heralds. They say we shouldn’t accept Iriali or Vorin doctrines as our own. But Dalinar, many do care. Here … here you just pay some ardent to burn glyphwards for you and call it done.”

Dalinar took a deep breath and tried again. “Perhaps, after I’ve seen to the rebels, I can persuade Gavilar not to give me another assignment. We could travel. Go west, to your homeland.”

“So you could kill my people instead?”

“No! I wouldn’t—”

“They’d attack you, Dalinar. My brother and I are exiles, if you haven’t forgotten.”

He hadn’t seen Toh in a decade, ever since the man had gone to Herdaz. He reportedly liked it quite well, living on the coast, protected by Alethi bodyguards.

Evi sighed. “I’ll never see the sunken forests again. I’ve accepted that. I will live my life in this harsh land, so dominated by wind and cold.”

“Well, we could travel someplace warm. Up to the Steamwater. Just you and I. Time together. We could even bring Adolin.”

“And Renarin?” Evi asked. “Dalinar, you have two sons, in case you have forgotten. Do you even care about the child’s condition? Or is he nothing to you now that he can’t become a soldier?”

Dalinar grunted, feeling like he’d taken a mace to the head. He stood up, then walked toward the table.

“What?” Evi demanded.

“I’ve been in enough battles to know when I’ve found one I can’t win.”

“So you flee?” Evi said. “Like a coward?”

“The coward,” Dalinar said, gathering his maps, “is the man who delays a necessary retreat for fear of being mocked. We’ll go back to Kholinar after I deal with the rebellion at the Rift. I’ll promise you at least a year there.”

“Really?” Evi said, standing up.

“Yes. You’ve won this fight.”

“I … don’t feel like I’ve won.…”

“Welcome to war, Evi,” Dalinar said, heading toward the door. “There are no unequivocal wins. Just victories that leave fewer of your friends dead than others.”

He left and slammed the door behind him. Sounds of her weeping chased him down the steps, and shamespren fell around him like flower petals. Storms, I don’t deserve that woman, do I?

Well, so be it. The argument was her fault, as were the repercussions. He stomped down the steps to find his generals, and continue planning his return assault on the Rift.





This generation has had only one Bondsmith, and some blame the divisions among us upon this fact. The true problem is far deeper. I believe that Honor himself is changing.

—From drawer 24-18, smokestone

A day after being murdered in a brutal fashion, Shallan found that she was feeling much better. The sense of oppression had left her, and even her horror seemed distant. What lingered was that single glimpse she’d seen in the mirror: a glimmer of the Unmade’s presence, beyond the plane of the reflection.

The mirrors in the tailor’s shop didn’t show such proclivities; she had checked every one. Just in case, she’d given a drawing of the thing she’d seen to the others, and warned them to watch.

Today, she strolled into the little kitchen, which was beside the rear workroom. Adolin ate flatbread and curry while King Elhokar sat at the room’s table, earnestly … writing something? No, he was drawing.

Shallan rested fond fingers on Adolin’s shoulder and enjoyed his grin in response. Then she rounded to peek over the king’s shoulder. He was doing a map of the city, with the palace and the Oathgate platform. It wasn’t half bad.

“Anyone seen the bridgeman?” Elhokar asked.

“Here,” Kaladin said, strolling in from the workroom. Yokska, her husband, and her maid were out shopping for more food, using spheres that Elhokar had provided. Food was apparently still for sale in the city, if you had the spheres to pay.

“I,” Elhokar said, “have devised a plan for how to proceed in this city.”

Shallan shared a look with Adolin, who shrugged. “What do you suggest, Your Majesty?”

“Thanks to the Lightweaver’s excellent reconnaissance,” the king said, “it is evident my wife is being held captive by her own guards.”

“We don’t know that for certain, Your Majesty,” Kaladin said. “It sounded like the queen has succumbed to whatever is affecting the guards.”

“Either way, she is in need of rescue,” Elhokar said. “Either we must sneak into the palace for her and little Gavinor, or we must rally a military force to help us capture the location by strength of arms.” He tapped his map of the city with his pen. “The Oathgate, however, remains our priority. Brightness Davar, I want you to investigate this Cult of Moments. Find out how they’re using the Oathgate platform.”

Yokska had confirmed that each night, some members of the cult set a blazing fire on top of the platform. They guarded the place all hours of the day.

“If you could join whatever ritual or event they are performing,” the king said, “you would be within feet of the Oathgate. You could transport the entire plateau to Urithiru, and let our armies there deal with the cult.

“In case that is not viable, Adolin and I—in the guise of important lighteyes from the Shattered Plains—shall contact the lighteyed houses in the city who maintain private guard forces. We shall gather their support, perhaps revealing our true identities, and put together an army for assaulting the palace, if needed.”

“And me?” Kaladin asked.

“I don’t like the sound of this Azure person. See what you can find out about him and his Wall Guard.”

Kaladin nodded, then grunted.