Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,150

the horse.

“Thank you,” Adolin said to Gallant. “For being with me. I know you’d rather be with Father.”

The horse blew out, then reached his muzzle into Adolin’s hand. Ryshadium chose their riders; they were not broken or trained. They accepted you, or they did not—and it was very rare for one to allow two riders.

Father loved his horse, he really did. But he was so busy with meetings these days, and Gallant seemed so forlorn. Abandoned, just a little. And well … Adolin had his own loss he was dealing with. So it had seemed a natural pairing, one that over the months had become more and more strong.

The grooms finished with the armor trunks, and then hooked Adolin’s clothing trunk on the other side. That wasn’t nearly as heavy as the Plate, so to weight that side roughly equal, a worker approached with a long box. Adolin stopped him, wanting to do one last check. He knelt to undo the latches and peeked inside.

“Storms,” a voice said. “Pardon, Brightlord, but how many swords do you need?”

Adolin grinned up at Godeke the Edgedancer, who was leading his horse nearby. The slender man wore his hair cropped short, though he wasn’t technically an ardent any longer, and so didn’t need to shave it. Beyond him, Zu—the team’s Stoneward—was lifting her pack onto her back. The golden-haired woman continually complained about the cold, and huddled in a coat several sizes too large.

“Well,” Adolin said to Godeke, “you can never have too many swords. Besides, no Shardblades can enter Shadesmar, so a man must be prepared.”

“You’re wearing a sword.”

“This?” Adolin said, patting his side sword. “Oh sure, this is better than nothing, but I’d hate to be caught with just it and no buckler. Besides, I’ve trained to duel mostly on longswords and greatswords.” He pulled his greatsword out of his arms box; the long weapon was intended to be used two-handed. It wasn’t as long as some Shardblades, of course, nor as wide.

“I don’t … know how much dueling you’ll be doing, Brightlord.”

“Obviously,” Adolin said. “That’s why I need these others.” He handed it to the groom. “Fix its scabbard to Gallant’s left shoulder, its guard in line with the saddle.” To Godeke, he continued, “See here, a hand-and-a-half sword for use with or without my shield. A nice swordstaff for horseback—I can screw in this piece to make it longer…”

“I see.”

“Here, this is an Emuli kusu,” Adolin said, holding up the long curved sword. “Great for slicing and cutting, especially when doing ride-by charges. Easier to withdraw the blade and better against someone unarmored. And here, I need this Veden house sword if we end up fighting against mail.…”

“I should be—”

“Don’t forget Shardbearers,” Adolin said, hefting a warhammer. It looked small, almost like a workman’s hammer with a longer handle—so tiny compared to the massive Shardbearers’ hammers wielded by men in Plate. He didn’t want to make Gallant haul one of those on their trip. “Need this if I end up being forced to crack some Plate—the swords will simply break, except maybe the house sword. Might be able to get that through a crack, once the armor is weakened.”

“I really—”

“And here, see this one?” He pulled out a unique triangular weapon, gripped at the base with a kind of handle instead of a true hilt. “Thaylen gtet. I’ve always wanted to train with one of these. Figured I might get some practice in.”

Godeke waved to someone farther up the ramp, then hastily said farewell before hiking off, tugging his horse after him. Adolin grinned, then had the workers hang a few more weapons from the horse’s saddle. Gallant tapped his hooves with what seemed to be satisfaction, happier to be outfitted with proper weapons and not just luggage. The workers affixed the box with the rest in place.

“You seem almost pleased,” Zu said, strolling over in her oversized coat. “To not be able to use Shardblades, I mean.”

Adolin hadn’t spoken to the woman much; he hadn’t realized how good her Alethi was. Apparently her people had turned her out when her powers had first manifested several years ago—they hadn’t realized she was a Radiant, and had thought her cursed by some strange god whose name Adolin hadn’t recognized.

The Iriali fought for the enemy now, but Dalinar didn’t turn away anyone who came asking for asylum—particularly if they’d said Radiant oaths.

“Well,” Adolin said, “I wouldn’t say happy. A Shardblade is the superior weapon. No amount of specialization for the situation can