didn’t.” Sadeas chewed on the thought for a moment, removing his hand from Ialai’s back, letting her sit up straight.
“There is a weakness here we can exploit,” Sadeas said. “Dalinar has always had a problem giving up authority. He never really trusts anyone to do their job. He didn’t come to me when he should have. This weakens his claims that all parts of the kingdom should work together. It’s a chink in his armor. Can you ram a dagger in it?”
Ialai nodded. She’d use her informants to start questions in court: Why, if Dalinar was trying to forge a better Alethkar, was he unwilling to give up any power? Why hadn’t he involved Sadeas in the king’s protection? Why wouldn’t he open his doors to Sadeas’s judges?
What authority did the Throne have, really, if it made assignments like the one to Sadeas, only to pretend they hadn’t been given?
“You should renounce your appointment as Highprince of Information in protest,” Ialai said.
“No. Not yet. We wait until the rumors have nipped at old Dalinar, made him decide he needs to let me do my job. Then, the moment before he tries to involve me, I renounce.”
It would widen the cracks that way, both in Dalinar, and in the kingdom itself.
Adolin’s bout continued below. He certainly didn’t look like his heart was in it. He kept leaving himself open, taking hits. This was the youth who had bragged about his skill so often? He was good, of course, but not nearly that good. Not as good as Sadeas had himself seen when the boy had been on the battlefield fighting the . . .
He was faking.
Sadeas found himself grinning. “Now that’s almost clever,” he said softly.
“What?” Ialai asked.
“Adolin is fighting beneath his capacity,” Sadeas explained as the youth got a hit—barely—on Eranniv’s helm. “He’s reluctant to display his real skill, as he fears it will scare others away from dueling him. If he looks barely capable enough to win this fight, others might decide to pounce.”
Ialai narrowed her eyes, watching the fight. “Are you sure? Couldn’t he just be having an off day?”
“I’m sure,” Sadeas said. Now that he knew what to watch for, he could easily read it in Adolin’s specific moves, the way he teased Eranniv to attack him, then barely fended off the blows. Adolin Kholin was cleverer than Sadeas had given him credit for.
Better at dueling as well. It took skill to win a bout—but it took true mastery to win while making it look the whole time that you were behind. As the fight progressed, the crowd got into it, and Adolin made it a close contest. Sadeas doubted many others would see what he did.
When Adolin, moving lethargically and leaking Light from a dozen hits—all carefully allowed on different sections of Plate, so none shattered and exposed him to real danger—managed to bring down Eranniv with a “lucky” blow at the end, the crowd roared in appreciation. Even the lighteyes seemed drawn in.
Eranniv stormed off, shouting about Adolin’s luck, but Sadeas found himself quite impressed. There might be a future for this boy, he thought. More so than his father, at least.
“Another Shard won,” Ialai said with dissatisfaction as Adolin raised a hand and walked off the field. “I’ll redouble my efforts to make certain this doesn’t happen again.”
Sadeas tapped his finger against the side of his seat. “What was it you said about duelists? That they’re brash? Hotheaded?”
“Yes. And?”
“Adolin is both of those things and more,” Sadeas said softly, considering. “He can be goaded, pushed around, brought to anger. He has passion like his father, but he controls it less securely.”
Can I get him right up to the cliff’s edge, Sadeas thought, then shove him off?
“Stop discouraging people from fighting him,” Sadeas said. “Don’t encourage them to fight him, either. Step back. I want to see how this develops.”
“That sounds dangerous,” Ialai said. “That boy is a weapon, Torol.”
“True,” Sadeas said, standing, “but you are rarely cut by a weapon if you are the one holding its hilt.” He helped his wife to her feet. “I also want you to tell Ruthar’s wife that he can ride with me next time I decide to strike out on my own for a gemheart. Ruthar is eager. He can be of use to us.”
She nodded, walking toward the exit. Sadeas followed, but hesitated, casting a glance toward Dalinar. How would this be if the man weren’t trapped in the past? If he’d been willing to see