The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,304

duty, you will receive a war bonus equal to one-tenth your total wages. You may then return, or you may sign up for further duty. Distinguish yourself and rise to a high rank, and it could mean an increase of one nahn for you and your children. Are there any volunteers?”

“I’ll go,” Jost said, stepping forward.

“Me too,” Abry added.

“Jost!” Jost’s mother said, grabbing his arm. “The crops—”

“Your crops are important, darkwoman,” Amaram said, “but not nearly as important as the defense of our people. The king sends back riches from the plundered Plains, and the gemstones he has captured can provide food for Alethkar in emergency. You two are both welcome. Are there any others?”

Three more boys from the town stepped forward, and one older man—Harl, who had lost his wife to the scarfever. He was the man whose daughter Kaladin hadn’t been able to save after her fall.

“Excellent,” Amaram said. “Are there any others?”

The townspeople were still. Oddly so. Many of the boys Kaladin had heard talk so often about joining the army looked away. Kaladin felt his heart beating, and his leg twitched, as if itching to propel him forward.

No. He was to be a surgeon. Lirin looked at him, and his dark brown eyes displayed hints of deep concern. But when Kaladin didn’t make any moves forward, he relaxed.

“Very well,” Amaram said, nodding to Roshone. “We will need your list after all.”

“List?” Lirin asked loudly.

Amaram glanced at him. “The need of our army is great, darkborn. I will take volunteers first, but the army must be replenished. As citylord, my cousin has the duty and honor of deciding which men to send.”

“Read the first four names, Alaxia,” Roshone said, “and the last one.”

Alaxia looked down at her list, speaking with a dry voice. “Agil, son of Marf. Caull, son of Taleb.”

Kaladin looked up at Lirin with apprehension.

“He can’t take you,” Lirin said. “We’re of the second nahn and provide an essential function to the town—I as surgeon, you as my only apprentice. By the law, we are exempt from conscription. Roshone knows it.”

“Habrin, son of Arafik,” Alaxia continued. “Jorna, son of Loats.” She hesitated, then looked up. “Tien, son of Lirin.”

There was a stillness across the square. Even the rain seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then, all eyes turned toward Tien. The boy looked dumbfounded. Lirin was immune as town surgeon, Kaladin immune as his apprentice.

But not Tien. He was a carpenter’s third apprentice, not vital, not immune.

Hesina gripped Tien tightly. “No!”

Lirin stepped in front of them, defensive. Kaladin stood stunned, looking at Roshone. Smiling, self-satisfied Roshone.

We took his son, Kaladin realized, meeting those beady eyes. This is his revenge.

“I…” Tien said. “The military?” For once, he seemed to lose his confidence, his optimism. His eyes opened wide, and he grew very pale. He fainted when he saw blood. He hated fighting. He was still small and spindly despite his age.

“He’s too young,” Lirin declared. Their neighbors sidled away, leaving Lirin’s family to stand alone in the rain.

Amaram frowned. “In the cities, youths as young as eight and nine are accepted into the military.”

“Lighteyed sons!” Lirin said. “To be trained as officers. They aren’t sent into battle!”

Amaram frowned more deeply. He stepped out into the rain, walking up to the family. “How old are you, son?” he asked Tien.

“He’s thirteen,” Lirin said.

Amaram glanced at him. “The surgeon. I’ve heard of you.” He sighed, glancing back at Amaram. “I haven’t the time to engage in your petty, small-town politics, cousin. Isn’t there another boy that will do?”

“It is my choice!” Roshone insisted. “Given me by the dictates of law. I send those the town can spare—well, that boy is the first one we can spare.”

Lirin stepped forward, eyes full of anger. Highmarshal Amaram caught him by the arm. “Do not do something you would regret, darkborn. Roshone has acted according to the law.”

“You hid behind the law, sneering at me, surgeon,” Roshone called to Lirin. “Well, now it turns against you. Keep those spheres! The look on your face at this moment is worth the price of every one of them!”

“I…” Tien said again. Kaladin had never seen the boy so terrified.

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