The Way of Kings - By Brandon Sanderson Page 0,423

can say what they wish, but The Arguments do not forbid our union. Tradition is not the same as doctrine, and I will not hold myself back for fear of offending.”

Dalinar took a deep breath, then forced himself to open his arms and pull back. “If you had hoped to soothe my worries for the day, then this didn’t help.”

She folded her arms. He could still feel where her safehand had touched him on the back. A tender touch, reserved for a family member. “I’m not here to soothe you, Dalinar. Quite the opposite.”

“Please. I do need time to think.”

“I won’t let you put me away. I won’t ignore that this happened. I won’t—”

“Navani,” he gently cut her off, “I will not abandon you. I promise.”

She eyed him, then a wry smile crept onto her face. “Very well. But you began something today.”

“I began it?” he asked, amused, elated, confused, worried, and ashamed at the same time.

“The kiss was yours, Dalinar,” she said idly, pulling open the door and entering his antechamber.

“You seduced me to it.”

“What? Seduced?” She glanced back at him. “Dalinar, I’ve never been more open and honest in my life.”

“I know,” Dalinar said, smiling. “That was the seductive part.” He closed the door softly, then let out a sigh.

Blood of my fathers, he thought, why can’t these things ever be simple?

And yet, in direct contrast with his thoughts, he felt as if the entire world had somehow become more right for having gone wrong.

“The darkness becomes a palace. Let it rule! Let it rule!”

—Kakevah 1173, 22 seconds pre-death. A darkeyed Selay man of unknown profession.

“You think one of those will save us?” Moash asked, scowling as he looked at the prayer tied about Kaladin’s upper right arm.

Kaladin glanced to the side. He stood at parade rest as Sadeas’s soldiers crossed their bridge. The chilly spring air felt good, now that he’d started working. The sky was bright, cloudless, and the stormwardens promised that no highstorm was near.

The prayer tied on his arms was simple. Three glyphs: wind, protection, beloved. A prayer to Jezerezeh—the Stormfather—to protect loved ones and friends. It was the straightforward type his mother had preferred. For all her subtlety and wryness, whenever she’d knitted or written a prayer, it had been simple and heartfelt. Wearing it reminded him of her.

“I can’t believe you paid good money for that,” Moash said. “If there are Heralds watching, they don’t pay any mind to bridgemen.”

“I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately, I guess.” The prayer was probably meaningless, but he’d had reason to start thinking more about religion lately. The life of a slave made it difficult for many to believe that anyone, or anything, was watching. Yet many bridgemen had grown more religious during their captivity. Two groups, opposite reactions. Did that mean some were stupid and others were callous, or something else entirely?

“They’re going to see us dead, you know,” Drehy said from behind. “This is it.” The bridgemen were exhausted. Kaladin and his team had been forced to work the chasms all night. Hashal had put strict requirements on them, demanding an increased amount of salvage. In order to meet the quota, they’d forgone training to scavenge.

And then today they’d been awakened for a morning chasm assault after only three hours of sleep. They were drooping as they stood in line, and they hadn’t even reached the contested plateau yet.

“Let it come,” Skar said quietly from the other side of the line. “They want us dead? Well, I’m not going to back down. We’ll show them what courage is. They can hide behind our bridges while we charge.”

“That’s no victory,” Moash said. “I say we attack the soldiers. Right now.”

“Our own troops?” Sigzil said, turning his dark-skinned head and looking down the line of men.

“Sure,” Moash said, eyes still forward. “They’re going to kill us anyway. Let’s take a few of them with us. Damnation, why not charge Sadeas? His guard won’t expect it. I’ll bet we could knock down a few and grab their spears, then be on to killing lighteyes before they cut us down.”

A couple of bridgemen murmured their assent as the soldiers continued to cross.

“No,” Kaladin said. “It wouldn’t accomplish anything. They’d have us dead before we could so much as inconvenience Sadeas.”

Moash spat. “And this will accomplish something? Damnation, Kaladin, I feel like I’m already dangling from the noose!”

“I have a plan,” Kaladin said.

He waited for the objections. His other plans hadn’t worked.

No one offered a complaint.

“Well then,” Moash said. “What