The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,366

to have you arrested.”

“I still don’t think it will come to that.”

“You can’t be sure. Elhokar allowed this investigation in the first place, after all. He’s growing more and more paranoid.”

Dalinar glanced over at the king. The younger man almost always wore his Shardplate these days, though he didn’t have it on now. He seemed continually on edge, glancing over his shoulder, eyes darting from side to side.

“Let me know when the men are in position,” Dalinar said.

Adolin nodded, walking away quickly.

The situation gave Dalinar little stomach for mingling. Still, standing alone and looking awkward was no better, so he made his way to where Highprince Hatham was speaking with a small group of lighteyes beside the main firepit. They nodded to Dalinar as he joined them; regardless of the way they were treating him in general, they would never turn him away at a feast like this. That simply wasn’t done to one of his rank.

“Ah, Brightlord Dalinar,” Hatham said in his smooth, overly polite way. The long-necked, slender man wore a ruffled green shirt underneath a robelike coat, with a darker green silk scarf around the neck. A faintly glowing ruby sat on each of his fingers; they’d each had some of their Stormlight drained away by a fabrial made for the purpose.

Of Hatham’s four companions, two were lesser lighteyes and one was a short white-robed ardent Dalinar didn’t know. The last was a red-gloved Natan man with bluish skin and stark white hair, two locks dyed a deep red and braided down to hang alongside his cheeks. He was a visiting dignitary; Dalinar had seen him at the feasts. What was his name again?

“Tell me, Brightlord Dalinar,” Hatham said. “Have you been paying much attention to the conflict between the Tukari and the Emuli?”

“It’s a religious conflict, isn’t it?” Dalinar asked. Both were Makabaki kingdoms, on the southern coast where trade was plentiful and profitable.

“Religious?” the Natan man said. “No, I wouldn’t say that. All conflicts are essentially economic in nature.”

Au-nak, Dalinar recalled. That’s his name. He spoke with an airy accent, overextending all of his “ah” and “oh” sounds.

“Money is behind every war,” Au-nak continued. “Religion is but an excuse. Or perhaps a justification.”

“There’s a difference?” the ardent said, obviously taking offense at Au-nak’s tone.

“Of course,” Au-nak said. “An excuse is what you make after the deed is done, while a justification is what you offer before.”

“I would say an excuse is something you claim, but do not believe, Nak-ali.” Hatham was using the high form of Au-nak’s name. “While a justification is something you actually believe.” Why such respect? The Natan must have something that Hatham wanted.

“Regardless,” Au-nak said. “This particular war is over the city of Sesemalex Dar, which the Emuli have made their capital. It’s an excellent trade city, and the Tukari want it.”

“I’ve heard of Sesemalex Dar,” Dalinar said, rubbing his chin. “The city is quite spectacular, filling rifts cut into the stone.”

“Indeed,” Au-nak said. “There’s a particular composition of the stone there that lets water drain. The design is amazing. It’s obviously one of the Dawncities.”

“My wife would have something to say on that,” Hatham said. “She makes the Dawncities her study.”

“The city’s pattern is central to the Emuli religion,” the ardent said. “They claim it is their ancestral homeland, a gift to them from the Heralds. And the Tukari are led by that god-priest of theirs, Tezim. So the conflict is religious in nature.”

“And if the city weren’t such a fantastic port,” Au-nak said, “would they be as persistent about proclaiming the city’s religious significance? I think not. They’re pagans, after all, so we can’t presume their religion has any real importance.”

Talk of the Dawncities had been popular lately among the lighteyes—the idea that certain cities could trace their origins back to the Dawnsingers. Perhaps…

“Have any of you heard of a place known as Feverstone Keep?” Dalinar asked.

The others shook their heads; even Au-nak had nothing to say.

“Why?” Hatham asked.

“Just curious.”

The conversation continued, though Dalinar let his attention wander back toward Elhokar and his circle of attendants. When would Sadeas make his announcement? If he intended to suggest that Dalinar be arrested, he wouldn’t do it at a feast, would he?

Dalinar forced his attention back to the conversation. He really should pay more heed to what was happening in the world. Once, news of which kingdoms were in conflict had fascinated him. So much had changed since the visions began.

“Perhaps it’s not economic or religious in nature,” Hatham said, trying