The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,396

I was just a youth. I thought it was nonsense.”

He was holding things back; Kaladin could tell from the hesitation in his voice.

Responsibility. “How much do you know about what I can do?”

“Not much,” Teft said. “Just legends and stories. Nobody really knows what the Radiants could do, lad.”

Kaladin met his eyes, then smiled. “Well, we’re going to find out.”

“ReShephir, the Midnight Mother, giving birth to abominations with her essence so dark, so terrible, so consuming. She is here! She watches me die!”

—Dated Shashabev, 1173, 8 seconds pre-death. Subject: a darkeyed dock-worker in his forties, father of three.

“I have a serious loathing of being wrong.” Adolin reclined in his chair, one hand resting leisurely on the crystal-topped table, the other swirling wine in his cup. Yellow wine. He wasn’t on duty today, so he could indulge just a tad.

Wind ruffled his hair; he was sitting with a group of other young lighteyes at the outdoor tables of an Outer Market wineshop. The Outer Market was a collection of buildings that had grown up near the king’s palace, outside the warcamps. An eclectic mix of people passed on the street below their terraced seating.

“I should think that everyone shares your dislike, Adolin,” Jakamav said, leaning with both elbows on the table. He was a sturdy man, a lighteyes of the third dahn from Highprince Roion’s camp. “Who likes being wrong?”

“I’ve known a number of people who prefer it,” Adolin said thoughtfully. “Of course, they don’t admit that fact. But what else could one presume from the frequency of their error?”

Inkima—Jakamav’s accompaniment for the afternoon—gave a tinkling laugh. She was a plump thing with light yellow eyes who dyed her hair black. She wore a red dress. The color did not look good on her.

Danlan was also there, of course. She sat on a chair beside Adolin, keeping proper distance, though she’d occasionally touch his arm with her freehand. Her wine was violet. She did like her wine, though she seemed to match it to her outfits. A curious trait. Adolin smiled. She looked extremely fetching, with that long neck and graceful build wrapped in a sleek dress. She didn’t dye her hair, though it was mostly auburn. There was nothing wrong with light hair. In fact, why was it that they all were so fond of dark hair, when light eyes were the ideal?

Stop it, Adolin told himself. You’ll end up brooding as much as Father.

The other two—Toral and his companion Eshava—were both lighteyes from Highprince Aladar’s camp. House Kholin was currently out of favor, but Adolin had acquaintances or friends in nearly all of the warcamps.

“Wrongness can be amusing,” Toral said. “It keeps life interesting. If we were all right all the time, where would that leave us?”

“My dear,” his companion said. “Didn’t you once claim to me that you were nearly always right?”

“Yes,” Toral said. “And so if everyone were like me, who would I make sport of? I’d dread being made so mundane by everyone else’s competence.”

Adolin smiled, taking a drink of his wine. He had a formal duel in the arena today, and he’d found that a cup of yellow beforehand helped him relax. “Well, you needn’t worry about me being right too often, Toral. I was sure Sadeas would move against my father. It doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he?”

“Positioning, perhaps?” Toral said. He was a keen fellow, known for his refined sense of taste. Adolin always wanted him along when trying wines. “He wants to look strong.”

“He was strong,” Adolin said. “He gains no more by not moving against us.”

“Now,” Danlan said, voice soft with a breathless quality to it, “I know that I’m quite new to the warcamps, and my assessment is bound to reflect my ignorance, but—”

“You always say that, you know,” Adolin said idly. He liked her voice quite a bit.

“I always say what?”

“That you’re ignorant,” Adolin said. “However, you’re anything but. You’re among the most clever women I’ve met.”

She hesitated, looking oddly annoyed for a moment. Then she smiled. “You shouldn’t say such things—Adolin—when a woman is attempting humility.”

“Oh, right. Humility. I’ve forgotten that existed.”

“Too much time around Sadeas’s lighteyes?” Jakamav said, eliciting another tinkling laugh from Inkima.

“Anyway,” Adolin said. “I’m sorry. Please continue.”

“I was saying,” Danlan said, “that I doubt Sadeas would wish to start a war. Moving against your father in such an obvious way would have done that, wouldn’t it?”

“Undoubtedly,” Adolin said.

“So perhaps that is why he held himself back.”

“I don’t know,” Toral said. “He could have cast