Rhythm of War (The Stormlight Archive #4) - Brandon Sanderson Page 0,528

bowing to the emperor. As they left one by one, other servants quickly made space at the table for Jasnah and Dalinar, though the clock he wore in his arm bracer told him he was still a few minutes early for the meeting.

Damnation’s own device, that was. Had him hopping about like the Prime. Though admittedly, Dalinar was realizing how much less of his time was wasted now that everyone knew precisely when to meet together. Without ever saying a word, Navani was bringing order to his life.

Be safe. Please. My life’s light, my gemheart.

He sent Szeth out, as neither of the other two monarchs had guards in the room. As they settled—the last of the observers leaving—Noura bowed to the Prime, then took a seat at the table deliberately positioned to be lower than the three of them. Some in the empire considered it a scandal that Dalinar, Jasnah, and Fen were always seated at the same height as the Prime, but Yanagawn had insisted.

“Dalinar, Jasnah,” the youth said, relaxing as he removed his headdress and set it onto the table. Noura gave him a glance at that, but Dalinar smiled. She obviously thought the Prime should maintain decorum, but Dalinar liked seeing the youth grow more comfortable with his position and his fellow monarchs. “I’m sorry we didn’t have plates of food for you as well,” Yanagawn continued in Azish. “I should have known you’d both arrive early.”

“It would have made a fine memento, Majesty,” Jasnah said, laying out some papers on the table. “But we were not of the chosen today, so it wouldn’t feel right to be so favored.”

The boy looked to Noura. “I told you she understood.”

“Your wisdom grows, Imperial Majesty,” the older woman said. She was an Azish vizier—a high-level civil servant. Her own outfit had less gold on it than the Prime’s, but it was nevertheless fantastically colored, with a cap and contrasting coat of a multitude of patterns and hues. Her long hair was greying and wound into a braid that emerged from her cap on one side.

“All right, Jasnah,” Yanagawn said, leaning forward to inspect Jasnah’s papers—though as far as Dalinar knew, he couldn’t read Alethi. “Tell it to me straight.”

Dalinar braced himself.

“We have practically no chance of recovering Urithiru,” Jasnah said in Azish, her voice barely accented. “Our scouts confirm that fabrials don’t work near it. That means if we were to re-create a smaller version of my mother’s flying machine to deliver troops, it would drop the moment it drew too close.

“They’ve also blocked off the caverns. My uncle delivered a small force to the bottom, and that action seems to have informed the enemy that we know their ruse is up. They are no longer sending fake messages via spanreed, and we’ve seen singer troops on the balconies.

“With a Shardblade—which we discovered can be delivered into the protected area so long as it is not bound—our troops can cut through the blockage at the bottom. But while doing that the force would be exposed to archers on higher ground. And if we made it through that rubble, fighting all the way up through a contested tunnel system would be a nightmare.

“A march by soldiers along the tops of the mountains is impossible for a multitude of reasons. But if we did reach the tower, we’d lose. Our battlefields are a careful balance of Radiant against Fused, Shardbearer against Regal, soldier against soldier. At Urithiru, we’d have no Radiants—and the entire strategy would topple.”

“We’d have Kaladin,” Dalinar said. “His powers still work. The Stormfather thinks it’s because he’s far enough along in his oaths.”

“With all due respect to him,” Jasnah said, “Kaladin is just one man—and one you relieved of duty before we left.”

She was correct, of course. Common sense dictated that one man was nothing against an army of Fused. Yet Dalinar wondered. Once, in the warcamps, he’d argued with Kaladin’s soldiers who had set up a vigil for the young Windrunner—then presumed dead. Dalinar had been proven wrong that time. Now, he found himself possessing some of the same faith as those soldiers.

Beaten down, broken, surrounded by enemies, Kaladin continued to fight. He knew how to take the next step. They couldn’t leave him to take it alone.

“Our best chance,” Dalinar said to the others, “is to deliver me and a force through Shadesmar to the tower. I might be able to open a perpendicularity there, and we could surprise the enemy with an attack.”

“You might be