finally stepped out onto the field, wearing his blue Shardplate. Some of the lighteyes clapped politely. Across the way, Eranniv left his own preparatory room, his polished Plate its natural color except across the breastplate, which he’d painted a deep black.
Sadeas narrowed his eyes, still scratching Ialai’s back. “This duel should not even be happening,” he said. “Everyone was supposed to be too afraid, or too dismissive, to accept his challenges.”
“Idiots,” Ialai said softly. “They know, Torol, what they’re supposed to do—I’ve dropped the right hints and promises. And yet every one of them secretly wants to be the man who brings down Adolin. Duelists are not a particularly dependable lot. They are brash, hotheaded, and care too much about showing off and gaining renown.”
“His father’s plan cannot be allowed to work,” Sadeas said.
“It won’t.”
Sadeas glanced at where Dalinar had set up. Sadeas’s own position was not too far away—within shouting distance. Dalinar didn’t look at him.
“I built this kingdom,” Sadeas said softly. “I know how fragile it is, Ialai. It should not be so difficult to knock the thing down.” That would be the only way to properly build it anew. Like reforging a weapon. You melted down the remnants of the old before you created the replacement.
The duel began down below, Adolin striding across the sands toward Eranniv, who wielded old Gavilar’s Blade, with its wicked design. Adolin engaged too quickly. Was the boy that eager?
In the crowd, lighteyes grew quiet and darkeyes shouted, eager for another display like last time. However, this didn’t devolve into a wrestling match. The two exchanged testing blows and Adolin backed away, having taken a hit on his shoulder.
Sloppy, Sadeas thought.
“I finally discovered the nature of that disturbance at the king’s chambers two weeks ago,” Ialai noted.
Sadeas smiled, eyes still on the bout. “Of course you did.”
“Assassination attempt,” she said. “Someone sabotaged the king’s balcony in a crude attempt at dropping him a hundred feet to the rocks. From what I hear, it nearly worked.”
“Not so crude then, if it almost killed him.”
“Pardon, Torol, but almost is a big distinction in assassinations.”
True.
Sadeas searched within himself, seeking some sign of emotion at hearing that Elhokar had almost died. He found none beside a faint sense of pity. He was fond of the boy, but to rebuild Alethkar, all vestiges of former rule would need to be removed. Elhokar would need to die. Preferably in a quiet manner, after Dalinar had been dealt with. Sadeas expected he’d have to cut the boy’s throat himself, out of respect for old Gavilar.
“Who commissioned the assassins, do you suppose?” Sadeas asked, speaking softly enough that—with the buffer his guards kept around their seats—he didn’t have to worry about being overheard.
“Hard to tell,” Ialai replied, scooting to the side and twisting to get him to scratch a different part of her back. “It wouldn’t be Ruthar or Aladar.”
Both were solidly in Sadeas’s palm. Aladar with some resignation, Ruthar eagerly. Roion was too much a coward, others too careful. Who else could have done it?
“Thanadal,” Sadeas guessed.
“He’s the most likely. But I will see what I can discover.”
“It might be the same ones as with the king’s armor,” Sadeas said. “Perhaps we could find out more if I exercise my authority.”
Sadeas was Highprince of Information—one of the old designations, from previous centuries, which split duties in the kingdom among highprinces. It technically gave Sadeas authority over investigations and policing.
“Perhaps,” Ialai said hesitantly.
“But?”
She shook her head, watching another exchange of the duelists down below. This bout of fighting left Adolin with Stormlight streaming from one gauntlet, to the booing of some of the darkeyes. Why were those people even allowed in? There were lighteyes who were unable to attend because Elhokar reserved seating for their inferiors.
“Dalinar,” Ialai said, “has responded to our ploy of making you Highprince of Information. He used it as precedent for making himself Highprince of War. And so now, every step you take invoking your rights as Highprince of Information cements his authority over this conflict.”
Sadeas nodded. “You have a plan, then?”
“Not quite yet,” Ialai said. “But I’m forming one. You’ve noticed how he started up patrols outside of the camps? And in the Outer Market. Should that be your duty?”
“No, that’s the job of a Highprince of Commerce, which the king hasn’t appointed. However, I should have authority over policing all ten camps, and appointing judges and magistrates. He should have involved me the moment an attempt was made on the king’s life. But he