Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,438

he arrived. “We can motion for a trial by witness. A variety more akin to what you know already.”

“That sounds great,” Adolin said, relaxing. If he had to listen to one more lecture including terms like “exculpatory evidence” and “compensatory restitution,” he would ask them to execute him and be done with it.

Blended took notes as she spoke. “It is well I spent these weeks training you in basics. This will prepare you for your best hope of victory, which is this format. Therefore, before I explain, recite to me your general trial strategy.”

They’d gone over this dozens of times, to the point that Adolin could have said it backward. He didn’t mind; you drilled your soldiers in battle formations until they could do maneuvers in their sleep. And this trial would be like a battle; Blended had repeatedly warned him to be wary of verbal ambushes.

“I need to persuade them that I cannot be held accountable for the actions of the ancient Radiants,” Adolin said. “That they cannot shun me or my father because of things done by ancient humans. In order to accomplish this, I will prove my character, I will prove that the modern Radiants are unconnected to the old orders, and I will prove that our actions in the face of the current crisis are proof of the honor men display.”

Blended nodded. “We will choose a trial by witness. Assuming your motion is accepted, the trial will happen in three phases over three days. The first day, the High Judge is presented with three testimonies against your cause. The next day, you give your testimony. The final day, accusers are allowed one rebuttal, then judgment is requested. This format is not often chosen, because it allows so much weight of testimony against you. However, factoring in how weak your grasp of legal systems is, well … this choice is best.”

Adolin felt a tremble deep inside. He wished for a fight he could face with sword in hand—but that was the trouble. Any given Radiant could do better than he at such a fight, so his expertise with the sword was effectively obsolete. He could not train himself to the level of a Radiant; they could heal from wounds and strike with supernatural grace and strength. The world had entered an era where simply being good at swordplay was not enough.

That left him to find a new place. Father always complained about being unsuited for diplomacy; Adolin was determined not to make the same complaint. “If I may plead my case on the second day,” he said, “then I’m for it. The other methods you suggested would require me to understand too much of their law.”

“Yes,” Blended said. “Though I worry that in giving testimony, you will incriminate yourself. Worse, you risk asking questions of the audience, presenting an opening for their condemnations. You could end up one man facing a crowd of experts in the law and rhetoric.”

“I have to speak for myself though,” Adolin said. “I fail to see how I can achieve what I want without talking to them. I need to prove myself and appeal to their honor.”

Blended flipped through pages of notes. He’d noticed that when she wouldn’t look at him, it meant she had something difficult to say.

“What?” Adolin asked her.

“You believe much in their honor, Prince Adolin. Your sense of justice … is.”

“They are honorspren,” he said. “Don’t they basically have to be honorable?”

“A conundrum is in this thing,” Blended said. “Yes, they are honorspren. But honor … isn’t something that … that is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Men define honor,” Blended said. “And no god can enforce it, no longer. Beyond that, spren like us are not mindless things. Our will is strong. Our perceptions mold our definitions of concepts such as honor and right and wrong. Just as with humans.”

“You’re saying that what they perceive as honorable might not be what I perceive as honorable. Syl warned me as much.”

“Yes,” she said. “What they are defines honor to them. Whatever they are.”

“That’s … frightening,” Adolin admitted. “But there is goodness to them. They care for the deadeyes, even Maya, with great concern and attention.”

“Hmmm, yes,” Blended said. “That one. Did another spren tell you her name?”

“No, she told me herself.”

“Deadeyes don’t speak. This is.”

“You all keep saying that, but you’re wrong,” Adolin said. “I heard her in my mind. Only once, true, but she said her name. Mayalaran. She’s my friend.”

Blended cocked her head. “Curious. Very curious…”

“Deep down, the honorspren