Kaladin felt powerless. The crowd’s eyes were on Lirin, standing with his arm in the grip of the lighteyed general, locking his gaze with Roshone.
“I’ll make the lad a runner boy for a year or two,” Amaram promised. “He won’t be in combat. It is the best I can do. Every body is needed in these times.”
Lirin slumped, then bowed his head. Roshone laughed, motioning Laral toward the carriage. She didn’t glance at Kaladin as she climbed back in. Roshone followed, and though he was still laughing, his expression had grown hard. Lifeless. Like the dull clouds above. He had his revenge, but his son was still dead and he was still stuck in Hearthstone.
Amaram regarded the crowd. “The recruits may bring two changes of clothing and up to three stoneweights of other possessions. They
Tien stared after him, pale as a whitewashed building. Kaladin could see his terror at leaving his family. His brother, the one who always made him smile when it rained. It was physically painful for Kaladin to see him so scared. It wasn’t
He felt the wooden horse in his pocket. Tien always brought him relief when he felt pained. Suddenly, it occurred to him that there was something he could do in turn.
“Brightlord Amaram!” Kaladin yelled.
The general hesitated, standing on the stepstool into the carriage, one foot in the door. He glanced over his shoulder.
“I want to take Tien’s place,” Kaladin said.
“Not allowed!” Roshone said from inside the carriage. “The law says I may choose.”
Amaram nodded grimly.
“Then what if you take me
“Kaladin!” Hesina said, grabbing him on one arm.
“It is allowed,” Amaram said. “I will not turn away any soldier, son. If you want to join, you are welcome.”
“Kaladin, no,” Lirin said. “Don’t both of you go. Don’t–”
Kaladin looked at Tien, the boy’s face wet beneath his wide-brimmed hat. He shook his head, but his eyes seemed hopeful.
“I volunteer,” Kaladin said, turning back to Amaram. “I’ll go.”
“Then you have two hours,” Amaram said, climbing into the carriage. “Same possession allotment as the others.”
The carriage door shut, but not before Kaladin got a glimpse of an even
“Why?” Lirin said, turning back to Kaladin, his voice ragged. “Why have you done this to me? After all of our plans!”
Kaladin turned to Tien. The boy took his arm. “Thank you,” Tien whispered. “Thank you, Kaladin.
“I’ve lost both of you,” Lirin said hoarsely, splashing away. “Storm it! Both of you.” He was crying. Kaladin’s mother was crying too. She clutched Tien again.
“Father!” Kaladin said, turning, amazed at how confident he felt.
Lirin paused, standing in the rain, one foot in a puddle where rainspren clustered. They inched away from him like vertical slugs.
“In four years, I will bring him home safely,” Kaladin said. “I promise it by the storms and the Almighty’s tenth name itself. I will
45
Shadesmar
“Yelignar, called Blightwind, was one that could speak like a man, though often his voice was accompanied by the wails of those he consumed.”