The Way of Kings

They avoided the lumberyard proper, crossing the open field of rock used as the army’s staging area before walking down the slope of rock leading to the Shattered Plains. A sentry saw them, and Kaladin held his breath, but he said nothing. He probably assumed from their postures that they had a reason to be doing what they were. If they tried to leave the warcamp, it would be a different story, but this section down near the first few chasms wasn’t off limits.

Before long, they approached the place where Kaladin had nearly killed himself. What a difference a few days could make. He felt like a different person – a strange hybrid of the man he had once been, the slave he’d become, and the pitiful wretch he still had to fight off. He remembered standing on the edge of the chasm, looking down. That darkness still terrified him.

If I fail to save the bridgemen, that wretch will take control again. This time he’ll get his way… That gave Kaladin a shiver. He set his bundles down beside the chasm ledge, then sat. The other two followed more hesitantly.

“We’re going to toss them into the chasm?” Teft asked, scratching his beard. “After all that work?”

“Of course not,” Kaladin said. He hesitated; Nomon was bright, but it was still night. “You don’t have any spheres, do you?”

“Why?” Teft asked, suspicious.

“For light, Teft.”

Teft grumbled, pulling out a handful of garnet chips. “Was going to spend these tonight…” he said. They glowed in his palm.

“All right,” Kaladin said, slipping out a reed. What had his father said about these? Hesitantly, Kaladin broke off the furry top of the reed, exposing the hollow center. He took the reed by the other end and ran his fingers down its length, squeezing it tight. Two drops of milky white liquid dripped into the empty liquor bottle.

Kaladin smiled in satisfaction, then squeezed his fingers along the length again. Nothing came out this time, so he tossed the reed into the chasm. For all his talk of hats, he didn’t want to leave evidence.

“I thought you said we aren’t throwing them in!” Teft accused.

Kaladin held up the liquor bottle. “Only after we have this out.”

“What is it?” Rock leaned closer, squinting.

“Knobweed sap. Or, rather, knobweed milk – I don’t think it’s really sap. Anyway, it’s a powerful antiseptic.”

“Anti… what?” Teft asked.

“It scares away rotspren,” Kaladin said. “They cause infection. This milk is one of the best antiseptics there is. Spread it on a wound that’s already infected, and it will still work.” That was good, because Leyten’s wounds had begun to turn an angry red, rotspren crawling all over.

Teft grunted, then glanced at the bundles. “There are a lot of reeds here.”

“I know,” Kaladin said, handing over the other two bottles. “That’s why I’m glad I don’t have to milk them all on my own.”

Teft sighed, but sat down and untied a bundle. Rock did so without the complaining, sitting with his knees bent to the sides, feet pressed together to hold the bottle as he worked.

A faint breeze blew up, rattling some of the reeds. “Why do you care about them?” Teft finally asked.

“They’re my men.”

“That’s not what being bridgeleader means.”

“It means whatever we decide,” Kaladin said, noting that Syl had come over to listen. “You, me, the others.”

“You think they’ll let you do that?” Teft asked. “The lighteyes and the captains?”

“You think they’ll pay enough attention to even notice?”

Teft hesitated, then grunted, milking another reed.

“Perhaps they will,” Rock said. There was a surprising level of delicacy to the large man’s motions as he milked the reeds. Kaladin hadn’t thought those thick fingers would be so careful, so precise. “Lighteyes, they are often noticing those things that you wish they would not.”

Teft grunted again, agreeing.

“How did you come here, Rock?” Kaladin asked. “How does a Horneater end up leaving his mountains and coming to the lowlands?”

“You shouldn’t ask those kinds of things, son,” Teft said, wagging a finger at Kaladin. “We don’t talk about our pasts.”

“We don’t talk about anything,” Kaladin said. “You two didn’t even know each other’s names.”

“Names are one thing,” Teft grumbled. “Backgrounds, they’re different. I–”

“Is all right,” Rock said. “I will speak of this thing.”

Teft muttered to himself, but he did lean forward to listen when Rock spoke.

“My people have no Shardblades,” Rock said in his low, rumbling voice.

“That’s not unusual,” Kaladin said. “Other than Alethkar and Jah Keved, few kingdoms have many Blades.” It was a matter of some pride among the armies.