The Way of Kings

Kaladin glanced at his shoulder, frowning at Syl. She sat primly, legs crossed and hands folded atop her knee, pointedly not looking at him.

“It was nothing,” Kaladin repeated.

“No,” Rock said. “That it certainly was not. Perhaps you should challenge Shardbearer. You could become brightlord!”

“I don’t want to be a brightlord,” Kaladin snapped, perhaps more harshly than he should have. The other two jumped. “Besides,” he added, looking away from them. “I tried that once. Where’s Dunny?”

“Wait,” Teft said, “you–”

“Where is Dunny?” Kaladin said firmly, punctuating each word. Stormfather. I need to keep my mouth shut.

Teft and Rock shared a glance, then Teft pointed. “We found some dead Parshendi around the bend. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Parshendi,” Kaladin said. “Let’s go look. Might have something valuable.” He’d never looted Parshendi bodies before; fewer of them fell into the chasms than Alethi.

“Is true,” Rock said, leading the way, carrying a lit torch. “Those weapons they have, yes, very nice. And gemstones in their beards.”

“Not to mention the armor,” Kaladin said.

Rock shook his head. “No armor.”

“Rock, I’ve seen their armor. They always wear it.”

“Well, yes, but we cannot use this thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Kaladin said.

“Come,” Rock said, gesturing. “Is easier than explaining.”

Kaladin shrugged, and they rounded the corner, Rock scratching at his red-bearded chin. “Stupid hairs,” he muttered. “Ah, to have it right again. A man is not proper man without proper beard.”

Kaladin rubbed his own beard. One of these days, he’d save up and buy a razor and be rid of the blasted thing. Or, well, probably not. His spheres would be needed elsewhere.

They rounded the corner and found Dunny pulling the Parshendi bodies into a line. There were four of them, and they looked like they’d been swept in from another direction. There were a few more Alethi bodies here too.

Kaladin strode forward, waving Rock to bring the light, and knelt to inspect one of the Parshendi dead. They were like parshmen, with skin in marbled patterns of black and crimson. Their only clothing was knee-length black skirts. Three wore beards, which was unusual for parshmen, and those were woven with uncut gemstones.

Just as Kaladin had expected, they wore armor of a pale red color. Breastplates, helms on the heads, guards on the arms and legs. Extensive armor for regular foot soldiers. Some of it was cracked from the fall or the wash. It wasn’t metal, then. Painted wood?

“I thought you said they weren’t armored,” Kaladin said. “What are you trying to tell me? That you don’t dare take it off the dead?”

“Don’t dare?” Rock said. “Kaladin, Master Brightlord, brilliant bridgeleader, spinner of spear, perhaps you will get it off them.”

Kaladin shrugged. His father had instilled in him a familiarity with the dead and dying, and though it felt bad to rob the dead, he was not squeamish. He prodded the first Parshendi, noting the man’s knife. He took it and looked for the strap that held the shoulder guard in place.

There was no strap. Kaladin frowned and peered underneath the guard, trying to pry it up. The skin lifted with it. “Stormfather!” he said. He inspected the helm. It was grown into the head. Or grown from the head. “What is this?”

“Do not know,” Rock said, shrugging. “It is looking like they grow their own armor, eh?”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kaladin said. “They’re just people. People – even parshmen – don’t grow armor.”

“Parshendi do,” Teft said.

Kaladin and the other two turned to him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” the older man said with a scowl. “I worked in the camp for a few years before I ended up as a bridgeman – no, I’m not going to tell you how, so storm off. Anyway, the soldiers talk about it. The Parshendi grow carapaces.”

“I’ve known parshmen,” Kaladin said. “There were a couple of them in my hometown, serving the citylord. None of them grew armor.”

“Well, these are a different kind of parshman,” Teft said with a scowl. “Bigger, stronger. They can jump chasms, for Kelek’s sake. And they grow armor. That’s just how it is.”

There was no disputing it, so they just moved on to gathering what they could. Many Parshendi used heavy weapons – axes, hammers – and those hadn’t been carried along with the bodies like many of the spears and bows Alethi soldiers had. But they did find several knives and one ornate sword, still in a sheath at the Parshendi’s side.

The skirts didn’t have pockets, but the corpses did have pouches tied to their waists. These just carried flint and tinder, whetstones, or other basic supplies. So, they knelt to begin pulling the gemstones from the beards. Those gemstones had holes drilled through them to facilitate weaving, and Stormlight infused them, though they didn’t glow as brightly as they would have if they’d been properly cut.