Oathbringer (The Stormlight Archive #3)

“Assuming you can.”

Dalinar stopped and turned to regard the shorter man. They stood on a too-quiet field, where even the rockbuds and the grass had the sense to withdraw. “Have I ever lost a battle, Tanalan?” Dalinar asked softly. “You know my reputation. Do you think it exaggerated?”

The younger man shifted, looking over his shoulder toward where he had left his guards and advisors. When he looked back, he was more resolved. “Better to die trying to bring you down than to surrender.”

“You’d better be sure of that,” Dalinar said. “Because if I win here, I’m going to have to make an example. I’ll break you, Tanalan. Your sorry, weeping city will be held up before all who would defy my brother. Be absolutely certain you want to fight me, because once this starts, I will be forced to leave only widows and corpses to populate the Rift.”

The young nobleman’s jaw slowly dropped. “I…”

“My brother attempted words and politics to bring you into line,” Dalinar said. “Well, I’m good at only one thing. He builds. I destroy. But because of the tears of a good woman, I have come—against my better judgment—to offer you an alternative. Let’s find an accommodation that will spare your city.”

“An accommodation? You killed my father.”

“And someday a man will kill me,” Dalinar said. “My sons will curse his name as you curse mine. I hope they don’t throw away thousands of lives in a hopeless battle because of that grudge. You want vengeance. Fine. Let’s duel. Me and you. I’ll lend you a Blade and Plate, and we’ll face each other on equal grounds. I win, and your people surrender.”

“And if I beat you, will your armies leave?”



“Hardly,” Dalinar said. “I suspect they’ll fight harder. But they won’t have me, and you’ll have won your father’s Blade back. Who knows? Maybe you’ll defeat the army. You’ll have a better storming chance, at least.”

Tanalan frowned at Dalinar. “You aren’t the man I thought you were.”

“I’m the same man I’ve always been. But today … today that man doesn’t want to kill anyone.”

A sudden fire inside him raged against those words. Was he really going to such lengths to avoid the conflict he’d been so anticipating?

“One of your own is working against you,” Tanalan suddenly said. “The loyal highprinces? There’s a traitor among them.”

“I’d be surprised if there weren’t several,” Dalinar said. “But yes, we know that one has been working with you.”

“A pity,” Tanalan said. “His men were here not an hour ago. A little earlier and you’d have caught them. Maybe they’d have been forced to join me, and their master would have been pulled into the war.” He shook his head, then turned and walked back toward his advisors.

Dalinar sighed in frustration. A dismissal. Well, there had never been much of a chance that this would work. He walked back to his horse and pulled himself up into the saddle.

Tanalan mounted as well. Before riding back to his city, the man gave Dalinar a salute. “This is unfortunate,” he said. “But I see no other way. I cannot defeat you in a duel, Blackthorn. To try would be foolish. But your offer is … appreciated.”

Dalinar grunted, pulled on his helm, then turned his horse.

“Unless…” Tanalan said.

“Unless?”

“Unless, of course, this was really a ruse all along, a scheme arranged by your brother, you, and me,” Tanalan said. “A … false rebellion. Intended to trick disloyal highprinces into revealing themselves.”

Dalinar raised his faceplate and turned back.

“Perhaps my outrage was feigned,” Tanalan said. “Perhaps we have been in touch since your attack here, all those years ago. You did spare my life, after all.”

“Yes,” Dalinar said, feeling a sudden surge of excitement. “That would explain why Gavilar didn’t immediately send our armies against you. We were in collusion all along.”

“What better proof, than the fact that we just had this strange battlefield conversation?” Tanalan looked over his shoulder at the body of his men on the wall. “My men must be thinking it very odd. It will make sense when they hear the truth—that I was telling you about the envoy that had been here, delivering weapons and supplies to us from one of your secret enemies.”

“Your reward, of course,” Dalinar said, “would be legitimacy as a highlord in the kingdom. Perhaps that highprince’s place.”

“And no fighting today,” Tanalan said. “No deaths.”

“No deaths. Except perhaps for the actual traitors.”

Tanalan looked to his advisors. The man with the birthmark nodded slowly.

“They headed east, toward the Unclaimed Hills,” Tanalan said, pointing. “A hundred soldiers and caravaneers. I think they were planning to stay for the night in the waystop at a town called Vedelliar.”

“Who was it?” Dalinar asked. “Which highprince?”

“It might be best if you find out for yourself, as—”

“Who?” Dalinar demanded.

“Brightlord Torol Sadeas.”



Sadeas? “Impossible!”

“As I said,” Tanalan noted. “Best if you see for yourself. But I will testify before the king, assuming you keep your side of our … accord.”

“Open your gates to my men,” Dalinar said, pointing. “Stand down your soldiers. You have my word of honor for your safety.”

With that, he turned and trotted back toward his forces, passing into a corridor of men. As he did, Teleb ran up to meet him. “Brightlord!” he said. “My scouts have returned from surveying that caravan. Sir, it—”

“Was from a highprince?”

“Undoubtedly,” Teleb said. “They couldn’t determine which one, but they claim to have seen someone in Shardplate among them.”

Shardplate? That made no sense.

Unless that is how he’s planning to see that we lose, Dalinar thought. That might not have been a simple supply caravan—it could be a flanking force in disguise.

A single Shardbearer hitting the back of his army while it was distracted could do incredible damage. Dalinar didn’t believe Tanalan, not completely. But … storms, if Sadeas secretly had sent one of his Shardbearers to the battlefield, Dalinar couldn’t just send a simple team of soldiers to deal with him.

“You have command,” he said to Teleb. “Tanalan is going to stand down; have the vanguard join the locals on the fortifications, but do not displace them. Camp the rest of the army back in the field, and keep our officers out of Rathalas. This isn’t a surrender. We’re going to pretend that he was on our side all along, so he can save face and preserve his title. Horinar, I want a company of a hundred elites, our fastest, ready to march with me immediately.”

They obeyed, asking no questions. Runners dashed with messages, and the entire area became a hive of motion, men and women hastening in all directions.