dying skyeel and crashing down into the sand.
Zahel looked toward Kaladin, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Kaladin asked.
“Enthusiasm, obedience, no fear of looking foolish,” Zahel said. “I can teach him how to fight, but those qualities are innate. This lad is going to do just fine.”
“Assuming he doesn’t fall on anyone,” Kaladin said.
Renarin climbed to his feet. He looked down, as if surprised that he hadn’t broken anything.
“Go up and do it again!” Zahel called to Renarin. “This time, fall headfirst!”
Renarin nodded, then turned and trotted off toward the stairwell.
“You want him to be confident in how the Plate protects him,” Kaladin said.
“Part of using Plate is knowing its limits,” Zahel said, turning back to Kaladin. “Plus, I just want him moving in it. Either way he’s listening, and that’s good. Teaching him is going to be a real pleasure. You, on the other hand, are another story.”
Kaladin raised his hand. “Thanks, but no.”
“You’d turn down an offer to train with a full weapons master?” Zahel asked. “I can count on one hand the number of darkeyes I’ve seen given that chance.”
“Yes, well, I’ve already done the ‘new recruit’ thing. Yelled at by sergeants, worked to the bone, marched for hours on end. Really, I’m fine.”
“This isn’t the same at all,” Zahel said, waving down one of the ardents walking past. The man was carrying a Shardblade with metal guards over the sharp edges, one of the ones the king provided for training use.
Zahel took the Shardblade from the ardent, holding it up.
Kaladin nodded his chin at it. “What’s that on the Blade?”
“Nobody’s sure,” Zahel said, swiping with the Blade. “Fit it to the edges of a Blade, and it will adapt to the shape of the weapon and make it safely blunt. Off the weapons, they break surprisingly easily. Useless in a fight on their own. Perfect for training, though.”
Kaladin grunted. Something created long ago, for use in training? Zahel inspected the Shardblade for a moment, then pointed it directly toward Kaladin.
Even with it blunted—even knowing the man wasn’t going to really attack him—Kaladin felt an immediate moment of panic. A Shardblade. This one had a slender, sleek form with a large crossguard. The flat sides of the blade were etched with the ten fundamental glyphs. It was a handspan wide and easily six feet long, yet Zahel held it with one hand and didn’t seem off balance.
“Niter,” Zahel said.
“What?” Kaladin asked, frowning.
“He was head of the Cobalt Guard before you,” Zahel said. “He was a good man, and a friend. He died keeping the men of the Kholin house alive. Now you’ve got the same Damnation job, and you’re going to have a tough time doing it half as well as he did.”
“I don’t see what that has to do with you waving a Shardblade at me.”
“Anyone who sends assassins after Dalinar or his sons is going to be powerful,” Zahel said. “They’ll have access to Shardbearers. That’s what you’re up against, son. You’re going to need far more training than a battlefield gives a spearman. Have you ever fought a man holding one of these?”
“Once or twice,” Kaladin said, relaxing against the nearby pillar.
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying,” Kaladin said, meeting Zahel’s eyes. “Ask Adolin what I pulled his father out of a few weeks back.”
Zahel lowered the sword. Behind him, Renarin dove face-first off the roof and crashed into the ground. He groaned inside his helm, rolling over. His helm leaked Light but he seemed otherwise unharmed.
“Well done, Prince Renarin,” Zahel called without looking. “Now do a few more jumps and see if you can land on your feet.”
Renarin rose and clinked off.
“All right then,” Zahel said, sweeping the Shardblade in the air. “Let’s see what you can do, kid. Convince me to leave you alone.”
Kaladin didn’t respond other than to heft his spear and settle into a defensive posture, one foot behind, one out front. He held his weapon with the butt forward instead of the point. Nearby, Adolin sparred with another one of the masters, who had the second King’s Blade and a suit of Plate.
How would this work? If Zahel scored a hit on Kaladin’s spear, would they pretend it had cut through?
The ardent approached in a rush, raising the Blade in a two-handed grip. The familiar calmness and focus of battle enveloped Kaladin. He did not draw in Stormlight. He needed to be certain not to come to rely on it too much.
Watch that Shardblade, Kaladin thought, stepping forward, trying to get inside