accompaniment of Urithiru and its thrones. Their spren was understood to be specific, and to persuade them to grow to the magnitude of the other orders was seen as seditious.
—From Words of Radiance, chapter 16, page 14
Kaladin never felt more uncomfortably conspicuous than when visiting Dalinar’s lighteyed training grounds, where all of the other soldiers were highborn.
Dalinar mandated that his soldiers wear uniforms during duty hours, and these men obeyed. In his own blue uniform, Kaladin shouldn’t have felt set off from them, but he did. Theirs were more lavish, with bright buttons up the sides of the fine coats and gemstones set into the buttons. Others ornamented their uniforms with embroidery. Colorful scarves were growing popular.
The lighteyed looked over Kaladin and his men as they entered. As much as the regular soldiers treated his men like heroes—as much as even these officers respected Dalinar and his decisions—their postures were hostile toward him and his.
You are not wanted here, those stares said. Everyone has a place. You’re out of yours. Like a chull in a dining hall.
“May I be relieved from duty for today’s training, sir?” Renarin asked Kaladin. The youth wore a Bridge Four uniform.
Kaladin nodded. His departure made the other bridgemen relax. Kaladin pointed toward three watch positions, and three of his men ran off to stand guard. Moash, Teft, and Yake stayed with him.
Kaladin marched them up to Zahel, who stood at the back of the sand-covered courtyard. Though the other ardents all busied themselves carrying water, towels, or sparring weapons to dueling lighteyes, Zahel had drawn a circle in the sand and was throwing little colored rocks into it.
“I’m taking you up on your offer,” Kaladin said, stepping up to him. “I brought three of my men to learn with me.”
“Didn’t offer to train four of you,” Zahel said.
“I know.”
Zahel grunted. “Do forty laps around the outside of this building at a jog, then report back. You have until I get tired of my game to return.”
Kaladin gestured sharply, and all four of them took off at a run.
“Wait,” Zahel called.
Kaladin stopped, boots crunching sand.
“I was just testing how willing you were to obey me,” Zahel said, throwing a rock into his circle. He grunted, as if pleased with himself. Finally, he turned to look at them. “I suppose I don’t need to toughen you up. But boy, you’ve got red on your ears like I’ve never seen.”
“I— Red on my ears?” Kaladin asked.
“Damnation language. I mean that you feel you’ve got something to prove, that you are spoiling for a fight. It means you’re angry at everything and everyone.”
“Can you blame us?” Moash asked.
“I suppose I can’t. But if I’m going to train you lads, I can’t have your red ears getting in the way. You’re going to listen, and you’re going to do what I say.”
“Yes, Master Zahel,” Kaladin said.
“Don’t call me master,” Zahel said. He thumbed over his shoulder toward Renarin, who was putting on his Shardplate with the assistance of some ardents. “I’m his master. For you lads, I’m just an interested party who wants to help you keep my friends alive. Wait here until I get back.”
He turned to walk toward Renarin. As Yake picked up one of the colored stones Zahel had been throwing, the man said, without looking, “And don’t touch my rocks!”
Yake jumped and dropped the stone.
Kaladin settled back, leaning against one of the pillars that held up the roof overhang, watching Zahel give instruction to Renarin. Syl zipped down and began inspecting the little rocks with a curious expression, trying to figure out what was special about them.
A short time later, Zahel walked past with Renarin, explaining the lad’s training for today. Apparently, he wanted Renarin to eat lunch. Kaladin smiled as some ardents hurriedly carried out a table, dining ware, and a heavy stool that could support a Shardbearer. They even had a tablecloth. Zahel left the bemused Renarin, who sat in his hulking Shardplate with his faceplate up, regarding a full lunch. He awkwardly picked up a fork.
“You’re teaching him to be delicate with his newfound strength,” Kaladin said to Zahel as the man passed back the other way.
“Shardplate is powerful stuff,” Zahel said, not looking at Kaladin. “Controlling it is about more than punching through walls and jumping off buildings.”
“So when do we—”
“Keep waiting.” Zahel wandered off.
Kaladin glanced at Teft, who shrugged. “I like him.”
Yake chuckled. “That’s because he’s almost as grouchy as you are, Teft.”
“I ain’t grouchy,” Teft snapped. “I just have a