The Way of Kings (126 page)

“I don’t know,” Adolin said, more skeptical. “Father, you’re talking about times before the Hierocracy. Will we be able to find anything in the histories?”

“There are histories from the time when the Radiants lived,” Renarin said. “That’s not as far back as the shadowdays or the Heraldic Epochs. We could ask Jasnah. Isn’t this what she does? As a Veristitalian?”

Dalinar looked at Adolin. “It sounds like it’s worth a try, son.”

“Maybe,” Adolin said. “But we can’t take the existence of a single place as proof. You could have heard of this Feverstone Keep, and therefore included it.”

“Well,” Renarin said, “that may be true. But if what Father sees are just delusions, then certainly we’ll be able to prove some parts of them untrue. It seems impossible that every detail he imagines is one that he got from a story or history.
Some
aspects of the delusions would have to be pure fancy.”

Adolin nodded slowly. “I…You’re right, Renarin. Yes, it’s a good plan.”

“We need to get one of my scribes,” Dalinar said. “So I can dictate the vision I just had while it is fresh.”

“Yes,” Renarin said. “The more details we have, the easier it will be to prove—or disprove—the visions.”

Dalinar grimaced, setting aside his cup and walking over to the others. He sat down. “All right, but who would we use to record the dictation?”

“You have a great number of clerks, Father,” Renarin said.

“And they’re all either wife or daughter to one of my officers,” Dalinar said. How could he explain? It was painful enough for him to expose weakness to his sons. If news of what he saw got around to his officers, it could weaken morale. There might come a time to reveal these things to his men, but he would need to do so carefully. And he’d much rather know for himself whether or not he was mad before he approached others.

“Yes,” Adolin said, nodding—though Renarin still looked perplexed. “I understand. But, Father, we can’t afford to wait for Jasnah to return. It could be months yet.”

“Agreed.” Dalinar said. He sighed. There was another option. “Renarin, send a runner for your aunt Navani.”

Adolin glanced at Dalinar, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a good idea. But I thought you didn’t trust her.”

“I trust her to keep her word,” Dalinar said, resigned. “And to keep confidence. I told her of my plans to abdicate, and she didn’t tell a soul.” Navani was excellent at keeping secrets. Far better than the women of his court. He trusted them to an extent, but keeping a secret like this would require someone supremely exacting in their words and thoughts.

That meant Navani. She would probably find a way to manipulate him using the knowledge, but at least the secret would be safe from his men.

“Go, Renarin,” Dalinar said.

Renarin nodded and stood. He had apparently recovered from his fit, and walked surefooted to the door. As he left, Adolin approached Dalinar. “Father, what will you do if we prove that I’m right, and it’s just your own mind?”

“A part of me wishes for that to happen,” Dalinar said, watching the door swing closed after Renarin. “I fear madness, but at least it is something familiar, something that can be dealt with. I will give you the princedom, then seek help in Kharbranth. But if these things are
not
delusions, I face another decision. Do I accept what they tell me or not? It may very well be better for Alethkar if I prove to be mad. It will be easier, at the least.”

Adolin considered that, his brow furrowed, his jaw tense. “And Sadeas? He seems to be nearing the completion of his investigation. What do we do?”

It was a legitimate question. Troubles over Dalinar trusting the visions in relation to Sadeas had been what had drawn Dalinar and Adolin to argument in the first place.

Unite them.
That wasn’t just a command from the visions. It had been Gavilar’s dream. A unified Alethkar. Had Dalinar let that dream—combined with guilt over failing his brother—drive him to construct supernatural rationalizations for seeking his brother’s will?

He felt uncertain. He
hated
feeling uncertain.

“Very well,” Dalinar said. “I give you leave to prepare for the worst, just in case Sadeas moves against us. Prepare our officers and call back the companies sent to patrol for bandits. If Sadeas denounces me as having tried to kill Elhokar, we will lock down our warcamp and go on alert. I don’t intend to let him bring me in for execution.”

Adolin looked relieved. “Thank you, Father.”

“Hope it doesn’t come to that, son,” Dalinar said. “The moment Sadeas and I go to war in earnest, Alethkar as a nation will shatter. Ours are the two princedoms that uphold the king, and if we turn to strife, the others will either pick sides or turn to wars of their own.”

Adolin nodded, but Dalinar sat back, disturbed.
I’m sorry,
he thought to whatever force was sending the visions.
But I have to be wise.

In a way, this seemed like a second test to him. The visions had told him to trust Sadeas. Well, he would see what happened.

“…and then it faded,” Dalinar said. “After that, I found myself back here.”

Navani raised her pen, looking thoughtful. It hadn’t taken him long to talk through the vision. She’d scribed expertly, picking out details from him, knowing when to prod for more. She hadn’t said a thing about the irregularity of the request, nor had she seemed amused by his desire to write down one of his delusions. She’d been businesslike and careful. She sat at his writing desk now, hair bound up in curls and crossed with four hair-spikes. Her dress was red, matched by her lip paint, and her beautiful violet eyes were curious.

Stormfather,
Dalinar thought,
but she’s beautiful.

“Well?” Adolin asked. He stood leaning against the door out of the chamber. Renarin had gone off to collect a highstorm damage report. The lad needed practice at that sort of activity.

Navani raised an eyebrow. “What was that, Adolin?”

“What do you think, Aunt?” Adolin asked.

“I have never heard of any of these places or events,” Navani said. “But I believe you weren’t expecting to me to know of them. Didn’t you say you wished me to contact Jasnah?”

“Yes,” Adolin said. “But surely you have analysis.”

“I reserve judgment, dear,” Navani said, standing up and folding the paper by pressing down with her safehand, holding it in place while she creased the fold tight. She smiled, walking by Adolin and patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s see what Jasnah says before we do any analyzing, shall we?”

“I suppose,” Adolin said. He sounded dissatisfied.

“I spent some time talking with that young lady of yours yesterday,” Navani noted to him. “Danlan? I think you’ve made a wise choice. She’s got a mind in that head of hers.”

Adolin perked up. “You like her?”

“Quite a bit,” Navani said. “I also discovered that she is very fond of avramelons. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t, actually.”

“Good. I would have hated to do all that work to find you a means of pleasing her, only to discover that you already knew it. I took the liberty of purchasing a basket of the melons on my way here. You’ll find them in the antechamber, watched over by a bored soldier who didn’t look like he was doing anything important. If you were to visit her with them this afternoon, I think you’d find yourself very well received.”

Adolin hesitated. He probably knew that Navani was deflecting him from worrying over Dalinar. However, he relaxed, then started smiling. “Well, that might make for a pleasant change, considering events lately.”

“I thought it might,” Navani said. “I’d suggest going soon; those melons are perfectly ripe. Besides, I wish to speak with your father.”

Adolin kissed Navani fondly on the cheek. “Thank you, Mashala.” He allowed her to get away with some things that others could not; around his favored aunt, he was much like a child again. Adolin’s smile widened as he made his way out the door.

Dalinar found himself smiling as well. Navani knew his son well. His smile didn’t last long, however, as he realized that Adolin’s departure left him alone with Navani. He stood up. “What is it you wished to ask of me?” he asked.

“I didn’t say I wanted to
ask
anything of you, Dalinar,” she said. “I just wanted to talk. We are family, after all. We don’t spend enough time together.”

“If you wish to speak, I shall fetch some soldiers to accompany us.” He glanced at the antechamber outside. Adolin had shut the second door at the end, closing off his view of his guards—and their view of him.

“Dalinar,” she said, walking up to him. “That
would
kind of defeat the point of sending Adolin away. I was after some privacy.”

He felt himself growing stiff. “You should go now.”

“Must I?”

“Yes. People will think this is inappropriate. They will talk.”

“You imply that something inappropriate
could
happen, then?” Navani said, sounding almost girlishly eager.

“Navani, you are my
sister
.”

“We aren’t related by blood,” she replied. “In some kingdoms, a union between us would be mandated by tradition, once your brother died.”

“We aren’t in other countries. This is Alethkar. There are rules.”

“I see,” she said, strolling closer to him. “And what will you do if I
don’t
go? Will you call for help? Have me hauled away?”

“Navani,” he said sufferingly. “Please. Don’t do this again. I’m tired.”

“Excellent. That might make it easier to get what I want.”

He closed his eyes.
I can’t take this right now.
The vision, the confrontation with Adolin, his own uncertain emotions…He didn’t know what to make of things any longer.

Testing the visions was a good decision, but he couldn’t shake the disorientation he felt from being unable to decide what to do next. He liked to make decisions and stick to them. He couldn’t do that.

It grated on him.

“I thank you for your scribing and for your willingness to keep this quiet,” he said, opening his eyes. “But I really must ask you to leave
now
, Navani.”

“Oh, Dalinar,” she said softly. She was close enough that he could smell her perfume. Stormfather, but she was beautiful. Seeing her brought to his mind thoughts of days long past, when he’d desired her so strongly that he’d nearly grown to hate Gavilar for winning her affection.

“Can’t you just relax,” she asked him, “just for a little while?”

“The rules—”

“Everyone else—”

“I cannot be
everyone else
!” Dalinar said, more sharply than he intended. “If I ignore our code and ethics, what am I, Navani? The other highprinces and lighteyes deserve recrimination for what they do, and I have let them know it. If
I
abandon my principles, then I become something far worse than they. A hypocrite!”

She froze.

“Please,” he said, tense with emotion. “Just go. Do not taunt me today.”

She hesitated, then walked away without a word.

She would never know how much he wished her to have made one more objection. In his state, he likely would have been unable to argue further. Once the door shut, he let himself sit down in his chair, exhaling. He closed his eyes.

Almighty above,
he thought.
Please. Just let me know what I am to do.

“He must pick it up, the fallen title! The tower, the crown, and the spear!”

—Dated Vevahach, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a prostitute. Back ground unknown.

A razor-edged arrow snapped into the wood next to Kaladin’s face. He could feel warm blood seep from a gash on his cheek, creeping down his face, mixing with the sweat dripping from his chin.

“Stay firm!” he bellowed, charging over the uneven ground, the bridge’s familiar weight on his shoulders. Nearby—just ahead and to the left—Bridge Twenty floundered, four men at the front falling to arrows, their corpses tripping up those behind.

The Parshendi archers knelt on the other side of the chasm, singing calmly despite the hail of arrows from Sadeas’s side. Their black eyes were like shards of obsidian. No whites. Just that emotionless black. In those moments—listening to men scream, cry, yell, howl—Kaladin hated the Parshendi as much as he hated Sadeas and Amaram. How could they sing while they killed?