not going to do it by screaming like a lunatic and challenging men like Amaram to duels. You’ll do it by distinguishing yourself in the position I gave you. Be the kind of man that others admire, whether they be lighteyed or dark. Convince Elhokar that a darkeyes can lead. That will change the world.”
Dalinar turned and walked away. Kaladin couldn’t help thinking that the man’s shoulders seemed more bowed than when he’d entered.
After Dalinar left, Kaladin sat back on his bench, letting out a long, annoyed breath. “Stay calm,” he whispered. “Do as you’re told, Kaladin. Stay in your cage.”
“He’s trying to help,” Syl said.
Kaladin glanced to the side. Where was she hiding? “You heard about Roshone.”
Silence.
“Yes,” Syl finally said, voice sounding small.
“My family’s poverty,” Kaladin said, “the way the town ostracized us, Tien being forced into the army, these things were all Roshone’s fault. Elhokar sent him to us.”
Syl didn’t respond. Kaladin fished a bit of flatbread from his bowl, chewing on it. Stormfather—Moash really was right. This kingdom would be better off without Elhokar. Dalinar tried his best, but he had an enormous blind spot regarding his nephew.
It was time someone stepped in and cut the ties binding Dalinar’s hands. For the good of the kingdom, for the good of Dalinar Kholin himself, the king had to die.
Some people—like a festering finger or a leg shattered beyond repair—just needed to be removed.
Now, look what you’ve made me say. You’ve always been able to bring out the most extreme in me, old friend. And I do still name you a friend, for all that you weary me.
What are you doing? the spanreed wrote to Shallan.
Nothing much, she wrote back by spherelight, just working on Sebarial’s income ledgers. She peeked out through the hole in her illusion, regarding the street far below. People flowed through the city as if marching to some strange rhythm. A dribble, then a burst, then back to a dribble. Rarely a constant flow. What caused that?
You want to come visit? the pen wrote. This is getting really boring.
Sorry, she wrote back to Adolin, I really need to get this work done. It might be nice to have a spanreed conversation to keep me company, though.
Pattern hummed softly beside her at the lie. Shallan had used an illusion to expand the size of the shed atop this tenement in Sebarial’s warcamp, providing a hidden place to sit and watch the street below. Five hours of waiting—comfortable enough, with the stool and spheres for light—had revealed nothing. Nobody had approached the lone stone-barked tree growing beside the pathway.
She didn’t know the species. It was too old to have been planted there recently; it must predate Sebarial’s arrival. The gnarled, sturdy bark made her think it was some variety of dendrolith, but the tree also had long fronds that rose into the air like streamers, twisting and fluttering in the wind. Those were reminiscent of a dalewillow. She’d already done a sketch; she would look it up in her books later.
The tree was used to people, and didn’t pull in its fronds as they passed it. If someone had approached carefully enough to avoid brushing the fronds, Shallan would have spotted them. If, instead, they’d moved quickly, the fronds would have felt the vibrations and withdrawn—which she also would have spotted. She was reasonably certain that if anyone had tried to fetch the item in the tree, she’d have known it, even if she’d been looking away for a moment.
I suppose, the pen wrote, I can continue to keep you company. Shoren isn’t doing anything else.
Shoren was the ardent who wrote for Adolin today, come to visit by Adolin’s order. The prince had pointedly noted that he was using an ardent, rather than one of his father’s scribes. Did he think she’d grow jealous if he used another woman for scribing duties?
He did seem surprised that she didn’t get jealous. Were the women of the court so petty? Or was Shallan the odd one, too relaxed? His eyes did wander, and she had to admit that wasn’t something that pleased her. And there was his reputation to consider. Adolin was said to have, in the past, changed relationships as frequently as other men changed coats.
Perhaps she should cling more firmly, but the thought of it nauseated her. Such behavior reminded her of Father, holding so tightly to everything that he eventually broke it all.
Yes, she wrote back to Adolin, using the board set on a box beside