The Way of Kings

forward? He didn’t answer the question. Instead, he picked up his pace and hoped that she’d see he didn’t want to discuss the topic.

It was no use. “I didn’t pick him because he would become king, Dalinar. Though that’s what everyone says. I chose him because you frightened me. That intensity of yours…it scared your brother too, you know.”

He said nothing.

“It’s still in there,” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. But you’ve wrapped armor around it, a glistening set of Shardplate to contain it. That is part of what I find fascinating.”

He stopped, looking at her. The palanquin bearers halted. “This would not work, Navani,” he said softly.

“Wouldn’t it?”

He shook his head. “I will not dishonor my brother’s memory.” He regarded her sternly, and she eventually nodded.

When he continued walking, she said nothing, though she did eye him slyly from time to time. Eventually, they reached his personal complex, marked by fluttering blue banners with the glyphpair khokh and linil, the former drawn in the shape of a crown, the second forming a tower. Dalinar’s mother had drawn the original design, the same his signet ring bore, though Elhokar used a sword and crown instead.

The soldiers at the entrance to his complex saluted, and Dalinar waited for Navani to join him before entering. The cavernous interior was lit by infused sapphires. Once they reached his sitting chamber, he was again struck by just how lavish it had gotten over the months.

Three of his clerks waited with their attending girls. All six stood up when he entered. Adolin was also there.

Dalinar frowned at the youth. “Shouldn’t you be seeing to the inspections?”

Adolin started. “Father, I finished those hours ago.”

“You did?” Stormfather! How long did I spend pounding on those stones?

“Father,” Adolin said, stepping up to him. “Can we speak privately for a moment?” As usual, Adolin’s black- peppered blond hair was an unruly mop. He’d changed from his Plate and bathed, and now he wore a fashionable- though battle-worthy-uniform with a long blue coat, buttoned at the sides, and straight, stiff brown trousers beneath.

“I’m not ready to discuss that as yet, son,” Dalinar said softly. “I need a little more time.”

Adolin studied him, eyes concerned. He will make a fine highprince, Dalinar thought. He’s been reared to it in a way that I never was.

“All right then,” Adolin said. “But there’s something else I want to ask you.” He pointed toward one of the clerks, a woman with auburn hair and only a few strands of black. She was lithe and long-necked, wearing a green dress, her hair arranged high on her head in a complex set of braids held together with four traditional steel hair- spikes.

“This is Danlan Morakotha,” Adolin said softly to Dalinar. “She came into camp yesterday to spend a few months with her father, Brightlord Morakotha. She has been calling on me recently, and I took the liberty of offering her a position among your clerks while she is here.”

Dalinar blinked. “What about…”

“Malasha?” Adolin sighed. “Didn’t work out.”

“And this one?” Dalinar asked, voice hushed, yet incredulous. “How long did you say she’s been in camp? Since yesterday? And you’ve already got her calling on you?”

Adolin shrugged. “Well, I do have a reputation to maintain.”

Dalinar sighed, eyeing Navani, who stood close enough to hear. She pretended-for propriety-that she wasn’t listening in. “You know, it is customary to eventually choose just one woman to court.” You’re going to need a good wife, son. Perhaps very soon.

“When I’m old and boring, perhaps,” Adolin said, smiling at the young woman. She was pretty. But only in camp one day? Blood of my ancestors, Dalinar thought. He’d spent three years courting the woman who’d eventually become his wife. Even if he couldn’t remember her face, he did remember how persistently he’d pursued her.

Surely he’d loved her. All emotion regarding her was gone, wiped from his mind by forces he should never have tempted. Unfortunately, he did remember how much he’d desired Navani, years before meeting the woman who would become his wife.

Stop that, he told himself. Moments ago, he’d been on the brink of deciding to abdicate his seat as highprince. It was no time to let Navani distract him.

“Brightness Danlan Morakotha,” he said to the young woman. “You are welcome among my clerks. I understand that I’ve received a communication?”

“Indeed, Brightlord,” the woman said, curtsying. She nodded to the line of five spanreeds sitting on his bookshelf, set upright in pen holders. The spanreeds looked like ordinary writing reeds, except that each had a small infused ruby affixed. The one on the far right pulsed slowly.

Litima was there, and though she had seniority, she nodded for Danlan to fetch the spanreed. The young woman hurried to the bookshelf and moved the still-blinking reed to the small writing desk beside the lectern. She carefully clipped a piece of paper onto the writing board and put the ink vial into its hole, twisting it snugly into place and then pulling the stopper. Lighteyed women were very proficient at working with just their freehand.

She sat down, looking up at him, seeming slightly nervous. Dalinar didn’t trust her, of course-she could easily be a spy for one of the other highprinces. Unfortunately, there weren’t any women in camp he trusted completely, not with Jasnah gone.

“I am ready, Brightlord,” Danlan said. She had a breathy, husky voice. Just the type that attracted Adolin. He hoped she wasn’t as vapid as those he usually picked.

“Proceed,” Dalinar said, waving Navani toward one of the room’s plush easy chairs. The other clerks sat back down on their bench.

Danlan turned the spanreed’s gemstone one notch, indicating that the request had been acknowledged. Then she checked the levels on the sides of the writing board-small vials of oil with bubbles at the center, which allowed her to make the board perfectly flat. Finally, she inked the reed and placed it on the dot at the top left of the page. Holding it upright, she twisted the gemstone setting one more time with her thumb. Then she removed her hand.

The reed remained in place, tip against the paper, hovering as if held in a phantom hand. Then it began to write, mimicking the exact movements Jasnah made miles away, writing with a reed conjoined to this one.

Dalinar stood beside the writing table, armored arms folded. He could see that his proximity made Danlan nervous, but he was too anxious to sit.

Jasnah had elegant handwriting, of course-Jasnah rarely did anything without taking the time to perfect it. Dalinar leaned forward as the familiar-yet indecipherable-lines appeared on the page in stark violet. Faint wisps of reddish smoke floated up from the gemstone.

The pen stopped writing, freezing in place.

“‘Uncle,’” Danlan read, “‘I presume that you are well.’”

“Indeed,” Dalinar replied. “I am well cared for by those around me.” The words were code indicating that he didn’t trust-or at least didn’t know-everyone listening. Jasnah would be careful not to send anything too sensitive.

Danlan took the pen and twisted the gemstone, then wrote out the words, sending them across the ocean to Jasnah. Was she still in Tukar? After Danlan finished writing, she returned it to the dot at the top left-the spot where the pens were both to be placed so Jasnah could continue the conversation-then turned the gemstone back to the previous setting.

“‘As I expected, I have found my way to Kharbranth,’” Danlan read. “‘The secrets I seek are too obscure to be contained even in the Palanaeum, but I find hints. Tantalizing fragments. Is Elhokar well?’”

Hints? Fragments? Of what? She had a penchant for drama, Jasnah did, though she wasn’t as flamboyant about it as the king.

“Your brother tried very hard to get himself killed by a chasmfiend a few weeks back,” Dalinar replied. Adolin smiled at that, leaning with his shoulder against the bookcase. “But evidently the Heralds watch over him. He is