right. The bridgemen would be used, day in and day out. Even if Kaladin slowed the death toll to two or three men a month—once, he would have considered that impossible, but now it seemed within reach—Bridge Four as it was currently composed would be gone within a year.
“I will talk with Sigzil about this thing,” Rock said, rubbing his chin between the sides of his beard. “We will think. There must be a way to escape this trap, a way to disappear. A false trail? A distraction? Perhaps we can convince Sadeas that we have died during bridge run.”
“How would we do that?”
“Don’t know,” Rock said. “But we will think.” He nodded to Kaladin and sauntered off toward Sigzil. The Azish man was practicing with the others. Kaladin had tried speaking to him about Hoid, but Sigzil—typically closemouthed—hadn’t wanted to discuss it.
“Hey, Kaladin!” Skar called. He was part of an advanced group that was going through Teft’s very carefully supervised sparring. “Come spar with us. Show these rock-brained fools how it’s really done.” The others began calling for him as well.
Kaladin waved them down, shaking his head.
Teft trotted over, a heavy spear on one shoulder. “Lad,” he said quietly, “I think it would be good for their morale if you showed them a thing or two yourself.”
“I’ve already given them instruction.”
“With a spear you knocked the head off of. Going very slowly, with lots of talk. They need to see it, lad. See you.”
“We’ve been through this, Teft.”
“Well, so we have.”
Kaladin smiled. Teft was careful not to look angry or belligerent—he looked as if he were having a normal conversation with Kaladin. “You’ve been a sergeant before, haven’t you?”
“Never mind that. Come on, just show them a few simple routines.”
“No, Teft,” Kaladin said, more seriously.
Teft eyed him. “You going to refuse to fight on the battlefield, just like that Horneater?”
“It’s not like that.”
“Well what is it like?”
Kaladin reached for an explanation. “I’ll fight when the time comes. But if I let myself get back into it now, I’ll be too eager. I’ll push to attack now. I’ll have trouble waiting until the men are ready. Trust me, Teft.”
Teft studied him. “You’re scared of it, lad.”
“What? No. I—”
“I can see it,” Teft said. “And I’ve seen it before. Last time you fought for someone, you failed, eh? So now you hesitate to take it up again.”
Kaladin paused. “Yes,” he admitted. But it was more than that. When he fought again, he would have to become that man from long ago, the man who had been called Stormblessed. The man with confidence and strength. He wasn’t certain he could be that man any longer. That was what scared him.
Once he held that spear again, there would be no turning back.
“Well.” Teft rubbed his chin. “When the time comes, I hope you’re ready. Because this lot will need you.”
Kaladin nodded and Teft hurried back to the others, giving some kind of explanation to mollify them.
Map of the Battle of the Tower, drawn and labeled by Navani Kholin, circa 1173.
“They come from the pit, two dead men, a heart in their hands, and I know that I have seen true glory.”
—Kakashah 1173, 13 seconds pre-death. A rickshaw puller.
“I couldn’t decide if you were interested or not,” Navani said softly to Dalinar as they slowly walked around the grounds of Elhokar’s raised field palace. “Half the time, you seemed like a flirt—offering hints at courtship, then backing away. The other half of the time, I was certain I had misread you. And Gavilar was so forthcoming. He always did prefer to seize what he wished.”
Dalinar nodded thoughtfully. He wore his blue uniform, while Navani was in a subdued maroon dress with a thick hem. Elhokar’s gardeners had begun to cultivate the plant life here. To their right, a twisting length of yellow shalebark rose to waist height, like a railing. The stonelike plant was overgrown by small bunches of haspers with pearly shells slowly opening and closing as they breathed. They looked like tiny mouths, silently speaking in rhythm with one another.
Dalinar and Navani’s pathway took a leisurely course up the hillside. Dalinar strolled with hands clasped behind his back. His honor guard and Navani’s clerks followed behind. A few of them looked perplexed at the amount of time Dalinar and Navani were spending with one another. How many of them suspected the truth? All? Part? None? Did it matter? “I didn’t mean to confuse you, all those years ago,” he said, voice soft