The Way of Kings

Dalinar left the fallen chasmfiend behind. He understood each step in the process of what had happened during these six years. He’d even hastened some of them. Only now did he worry. They were making headway in cutting down the Parshendi numbers, but the original goal of vengeance for Gavilar’s murder had nearly been forgotten. The Alethi lounged, they played, and they idled.

Even though they’d killed plenty of Parshendi – as many as a quarter of their originally estimated forces were dead – this was just taking so long. The siege had lasted six years, and could easily take another six. That troubled him. Obviously the Parshendi had expected to be besieged here. They’d prepared supply dumps and had been ready to move their entire population to the Shattered Plains, where they could use these Heralds-forsaken chasms and plateaus like hundreds of moats and fortifications.

Elhokar had sent messengers, demanding to know why the Parshendi had killed his father. They had never given an answer. They’d taken credit for his murder, but had offered no explanation. Of late, it seemed that Dalinar was the only one who still wondered about that.

Dalinar turned to the side; Elhokar’s attendants had retired to the pavilion, enjoying wine and refreshments. The large open-sided tent was dyed violet and yellow, and a light breeze ruffled the canvas. There was a small chance that another highstorm might arrive tonight, the stormwardens said. Almighty send that the army was back to the camp if one did come.

Highstorms. Visions.

Unite them…

Did he really believe in what he’d seen? Did he really think that the Almighty himself had spoken to him? Dalinar Kholin, the Blackthorn, a fearsome warlord?

Unite them.

At the pavilion, Sadeas walked out into the night. He had removed his helm, revealing a head of thick black hair that curled and tumbled around his shoulders. He cut an imposing figure in his Plate; he certainly looked much better in armor than he did wearing one of those ridiculous costumes of lace and silk that were popular these days.

Sadeas caught Dalinar’s eyes, nodding slightly. My part is done, that nod said. Sadeas strolled for a moment, then reentered the pavilion.

So. Sadeas had remembered the reason for inviting Vamah on the hunt. Dalinar would have to seek out Vamah. He made his way toward the pavilion. Adolin and Renarin lurked near the king. Had the lad given his report yet? It seemed likely that Adolin was trying – yet again – to listen in on Sadeas’s conversations with the king. Dalinar would have to do something about that; the boy’s personal rivalry with Sadeas was understandable, perhaps, but counterproductive.

Sadeas was chatting with the king. Dalinar made to go find Vamah – the other highprince was near the back of the pavilion – but the king interrupted him.

“Dalinar,” the king said. “Come here. Sadeas tells me he has won three gemhearts in the last few weeks alone!”

“He has indeed,” Dalinar said, approaching.

“How many have you won?”

“Including the one today?”

“No,” the king said. “Before this.”

“None, Your Majesty,” Dalinar admitted.

“It’s Sadeas’s bridges,” Elhokar said. “They’re more efficient than yours.”

“I may not have won anything the last few weeks,” Dalinar said stiffly, “but my army has won its share of skirmishes in the past.” And the gemhearts can go to Damnation, for all I care.

“Perhaps,” Elhokar said, “but what have you done lately?”

“I have been busy with other important things.”

Sadeas raised an eyebrow. “More important than the war? More important than vengeance? Is that possible? Or are you just making excuses?”

Dalinar gave the other highprince a pointed look. Sadeas just shrugged. They were allies, but they were not friends. Not any longer.

“You should switch to bridges like his,” Elhokar said.

“Your Majesty,” Dalinar said. “Sadeas’s bridges waste many lives.”

“But they are also fast,” Sadeas said smoothly. “Relying on wheeled bridges is foolish, Dalinar. Getting them over this plateau terrain is slow and plodding.”

“The Codes state that a general may not ask a man to do anything he would not do himself. Tell me, Sadeas. Would you run at the front of those bridges you use?”

“I wouldn’t eat gruel either,” Sadeas said dryly, “or cut ditches.”

“But you might if you had to,” Dalinar said. “The bridges are different. Stormfather, you don’t even let them use armor or shields! Would you enter combat without your Plate?”

“The bridgemen serve a very important function,” Sadeas snapped. “They distract the Parshendi from firing at my soldiers. I tried giving them shields at first. And you know what? The Parshendi ignored the bridgemen and fired volleys onto my soldiers and horses. I found that by doubling the number of bridges on a run, then making them extremely light – no armor, no shields to slow them – the bridgemen work far better.