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“The Codes state that a general may not ask a man to do anything he would not do himself. Tell me, Sadeas. Would you run at the front of those bridges you use?”
“I wouldn’t eat gruel either,” Sadeas said dryly, “or cut ditches.”
“But you might if you had to,” Dalinar said. “The bridges are different. Stormfather, you don’t even let them use armor or shields! Would you enter combat without your Plate?”
“The bridgemen serve a very important function,” Sadeas snapped. “They distract the Parshendi from firing at my soldiers. I tried giving them shields at first. And you know what? The Parshendi ignored the bridgemen and fired volleys onto my soldiers and horses. I found that by doubling the number of bridges on a run, then making them extremely light—no armor, no shields to slow them—the bridgemen work far better.
“You see, Dalinar? The Parshendi are too tempted by the exposed bridgemen to fire at anyone else! Yes, we lose a few bridge crews in each assault, but rarely so many that it hinders us. The Parshendi just keep firing at them—I assume that, for whatever reason, they think killing the bridgemen hurts us. As if an unarmored man carrying a bridge was worth the same to the army as a mounted knight in Plate.” Sadeas shook his head in amusement at the thought.
Dalinar frowned. Brother, Gavilar had written. You must find the most important words a man can say…. A quote from the ancient text The Way of Kings. It would disagree strongly with the things Sadeas was implying.
“Regardless,” Sadeas continued. “Surely you can’t argue with how effective my method has been.”
“Sometimes,” Dalinar said, “the prize is not worth the costs. The means by which we achieve victory are as important as the victory itself.”
Sadeas looked at Dalinar incredulously. Even Adolin and Renarin—who had come closer—seemed shocked by the statement. It was a very un-Alethi way of thinking.
With the visions and the words of that book spinning in his mind lately, Dalinar wasn’t feeling particularly Alethi.
“The prize is worth any cost, Brightlord Dalinar,” Sadeas said. “Winning the competition is worth any effort, any expense.”
“It is a war,” Dalinar said. “Not a contest.”
“Everything is a contest,” Sadeas said with a wave of his hand. “All dealings among men are a contest in which some will succeed and others fail. And some are failing quite spectacularly.”
“My father is one of the most renowned warriors in Alethkar!” Adolin snapped, butting into the group. The king raised an eyebrow at him, but otherwise stayed out of the conversation. “You saw what he did earlier, Sadeas, while you were hiding back by the pavilion with your bow. My father held off the beast. You’re a cowa—”
“Adolin!” Dalinar said. That was going too far. “Restrain yourself.”
Adolin clenched his jaw, hand to his side, as if itching to summon his Shardblade. Renarin stepped forward and gently placed a hand on Adolin’s arm. Reluctantly, Adolin backed down.
Sadeas turned to Dalinar, smirking. “One son can barely control himself, and the other is incompetent. This is your legacy, old friend?”
“I am proud of them both, Sadeas, whatever you think.”
“The firebrand I can understand,” Sadeas said. “You were once impetuous just like him. But the other one? You saw how he ran out onto the field today. He even forgot to draw his sword or bow! He’s useless!”
Renarin flushed, looking down. Adolin snapped his head up. He thrust his hand to the side again, stepping forward toward Sadeas.
“Adolin!” Dalinar said. “I will handle this!”
Adolin looked at him, blue eyes alight with rage, but he did not summon his Blade.
Dalinar turned his attention to Sadeas, speaking very softly, very pointedly. “Sadeas. Surely I did not just hear you openly—before the king—call my son useless. Surely you would not say that, as such an insult would demand that I summon my Blade and seek your blood. Shatter the Vengeance Pact. Cause the king’s two greatest allies to kill one another. Surely you would not have been that foolish. Surely I misheard.”
Everything grew still. Sadeas hesitated. He didn’t back down; he met Dalinar’s gaze. But he did hesitate.
“Perhaps,” Sadeas said slowly, “you did hear the wrong words. I would not insult your son. That would not have been…wise of me.”
An understanding passed between them, stares locked, and Dalinar nodded. Sadeas did as well—one curt nod of the head. They would not let their hatred of one another become a danger to the king. Barbs were one thing, but dueling offenses were another. They couldn’t risk that.
“Well,” Elhokar said. He allowed his highprinces to jostle and contend for status and influence. He believed they were all stronger for it, and few faulted him; it was an established method of rule. More and more, Dalinar found himself disagreeing.
Unite them….
“I guess we can be done with that,” Elhokar said.
To the side, Adolin looked unsatisfied, as if he’d really been hoping that Dalinar would summon his Blade and confront Sadeas. Dalinar’s own blood felt hot, the Thrill tempting him, but he shoved it down. No. Not here. Not now. Not while Elhokar needed them.
“Perhaps we can be done, Your Majesty,” Sadeas said. “Though I doubt this particular discussion between Dalinar and me will ever be done. At least until he relearns how to act as a man should.”
“I said that is quite enough, Sadeas,” Elhokar said.
“Quite enough, you say?” a new voice added. “I believe that a single word from Sadeas is ‘quite enough’ for anyone.” Wit picked his way through the groups of attendants, holding a cup of wine in one hand, silver sword belted at his side.
“Wit!” Elhokar exclaimed. “When did you get here?”
“I caught up to your party just before the battle, Your Majesty,” Wit said, bowing. “I was going to speak with you, but the chasmfiend beat me to you. I hear your conversation with it was rather energizing.”
“But, you arrived hours ago, then! What have you been doing? How could I have missed seeing you here?”
“I had…things to be about,” Wit said. “But I couldn’t stay away from the hunt. I wouldn’t want you to lack for me.”
“I’ve done well so far.”
“And yet, you were still Witless,” Wit noted.
Dalinar studied the black-clad man. What to make of Wit? He was clever. And yet, he was too free with his thoughts, as he’d shown with Renarin earlier. This Wit had a strange air about him that Dalinar couldn’t quite place.
“Brightlord Sadeas,” Wit said, taking a sip of wine. “I’m terribly sorry to see you here.”
“I should think,” Sadeas said dryly, “that you would be happy to see me. I seem always to provide you with such entertainment.”
“That is unfortunately true,” Wit said.
“Unfortunately?”
“Yes. You see, Sadeas, you make it too easy. An uneducated, half-brained serving boy with a hangover could make mock of you. I am left with no need to exert myself, and your very nature makes mockery of my mockery. And so it is that through sheer stupidity you make me look incompetent.”
