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Dalinar shivered at the thought of someone else wearing his Plate or holding Oathbringer. It was unnatural. And yet, the lending of the king’s Blade and Plate—or before the kingship had been restored, the lending of a highprince’s Blade and Plate—was a strong tradition. Even Gavilar had not broken it, though he had complained about it in private.
Adolin dodged another blow, but he had begun to move into Windstance’s offensive forms. Resi wasn’t ready for this—though he managed to hit Adolin once on the right pauldron, the blow was a glancing one. Adolin advanced, Blade sweeping in a fluid pattern. Resi backed away, falling into a parrying posture—Stonestance was one of the few to rely on those.
Adolin batted his opponent’s Blade away, knocking it out of stance. Resi reset, but Adolin knocked it away again. Resi grew sloppier and sloppier getting back into stance and Adolin began to strike, hitting him on one side, then on the other. Small, quick blows, meant to unnerve.
They worked. Resi bellowed and threw himself into one of Stonestance’s characteristic overhand blows. Adolin handled it perfectly, dropping his Blade to one hand, raising his left arm and taking the blow on his unharmed vambrace. It cracked badly, but the move allowed Adolin to bring his own Blade to the side and strike Resi’s cracked left cuisse.
The thigh plate shattered with the sound of ripping metal, pieces blasting away, trailing smoke, glowing like molten steel. Resi stumbled back; his left leg could no longer bear the weight of the Shardplate. The match was over. More important duels might go for two or three broken plates, but that grew dangerous.
The highjudge stood, calling an end. Resi stumbled away, ripping off his helm. His curses were audible. Adolin saluted his enemy, tapping the blunt edge of his Blade to his forehead, then dismissing the Blade. He bowed to the king. Other men sometimes went into the crowd to brag or accept accolades, but Adolin retreated to the preparation tent.
“Talented indeed,” Elhokar said.
“And such a… proper lad,” Sadeas said, sipping his drink.
“Yes,” Dalinar said. “At times, I wish there were peace, simply so that Adolin could dedicate himself to his dueling.”
Sadeas sighed. “More talk of abandoning the war, Dalinar?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You keep complaining that you’ve given up that argument, Uncle,” Elhokar said, turning to regard him. “Yet you continue to dance around it, speaking longingly of peace. People in the camps call you coward.”
Sadeas snorted. “He’s no coward, Your Majesty. I can attest to that.”
“Why, then?” Elhokar asked.
“These rumors have grown far beyond what is reasonable,” Dalinar said.
“And yet, you do not answer my questions,” Elhokar said. “If you could make the decision, Uncle, would you have us leave the Shattered Plains? Are you a coward?”
Dalinar hesitated.
Unite them, that voice had told him. It is your task, and I give it to you.
Am I a coward? he wondered. Nohadon challenged him, in the book, to examine himself. To never become so certain or high that he wasn’t willing to seek truth.
Elhokar’s question hadn’t been about his visions. And yet, Dalinar had the distinct impression that he was being a coward, at least in relation to his desire to abdicate. If he left because of what was happening to him, that would be taking the easy path.
I can’t leave, he realized. No matter what happens. I have to see this through. Even if he was mad. Or, an increasingly worrisome thought, even if the visions were real, but their origins suspect. I have to stay. But I also have to plan, to make sure I don’t tow my house down.
Such a careful line to walk. Nothing clear, everything clouded. He’d been ready to run because he liked to make clear decisions. Well, nothing was clear about what was happening to him. It seemed that in making the decision to remain highprince, he placed one important cornerstone into rebuilding the foundation of who he was.
He would not abdicate. And that was that.
“Dalinar?” Elhokar asked. “Are you… well?”
Dalinar blinked, realizing that he had stopped paying attention to the king and Sadeas. Staring off into space like that wouldn’t help his reputation. He turned to the king. “You want to know the truth,” he said. “Yes, if I could make the order, I would bring all ten warcamps and return to Alethkar.”
Despite what others said, that was not cowardly. No, he’d just confronted cowardice inside of him, and he knew what it was. This was something different.
The king looked shocked.
“I would leave,” Dalinar said firmly. “But not because I wish to flee or because I fear battle. It would be because I fear for Alethkar’s stability; leaving this war would help secure our homeland and the loyalty of the highprinces. I would send more envoys and scholars to find out why the Parshendi killed Gavilar. We gave up on that too easily. I still wonder if the assassination was initiated by miscreants or rebels among their own people.
“I’d discover what their culture is—and yes, they do have one. If rebels weren’t the cause of the assassination, I’d keep asking until I learned why they did it. I’d demand repayment—perhaps their own king, delivered to us for execution in turn—in exchange for granting them peace. As for the gemhearts, I’d speak with my scientists and discover a better method of holding this territory. Perhaps with mass homesteading of the area, securing all of the Unclaimed Hills, we could truly expand our borders and claim the Shattered Plains. I wouldn’t abandon vengeance, Your Majesty, but I would approach it—and our war here—more thoughtfully. Right now, we know too little to be effective.”
Elhokar looked surprised. He nodded. “I… Uncle, that actually makes sense. Why didn’t you explain it before?”
Dalinar blinked. Just several weeks ago, Elhokar had been indignant when Dalinar had merely mentioned the idea of turning back. What had changed?
I don’t give the boy enough credit, he realized. “I have had trouble explaining my own thoughts recently, Your Majesty.”
“Your Majesty!” Sadeas said. “Surely you wouldn’t actually consider—”
“This latest attempt on my life has me unsettled, Sadeas. Tell me. Have you made any progress in determining who put the weakened gems in my Plate?”
“Not yet, Your Majesty.”
“They’re trying to kill me,” Elhokar said softly, huddling down in his armor. “They’ll see me dead, like my father. Sometimes I do wonder if we’re chasing after the ten fools here. The assassin in white—he was Shin.”
“The Parshendi took responsibility for sending him,” Sadeas said.
“Yes,” Elhokar replied. “And yet they are savages, and easily manipulated. It would be a perfect distraction, pinning the blame on a group of parshmen. We go to war for years and years, never noticing the real villains, working quietly in my own camp. They watch me. Always. Waiting. I see their faces in mirrors. Symbols, twisted, inhuman…”
Dalinar glanced at Sadeas, and the two shared a disturbed look. Was Elhokar’s paranoia growing worse, or had it always been hidden? He saw phantom cabals in every shadow, and now—with the attempt on his life— he had proof to feed those worries.
