Dalinar nodded.
“I could be lying,” Aladar said.
“But you aren’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Honestly? I don’t. But if this is all going to work, I am going to have to trust some of you.” To an extent. He would never put himself in another position like the Tower.
Either way, Aladar’s presence meant this incursion was actually possible. Together, the four of them would likely outnumber the Parshendi—though he wasn’t certain how trustworthy the scribes’ counts of their numbers were.
It was not the grand coalition of all highprinces that Dalinar had wanted, but even with the chasms favoring the Parshendi, this could be enough.
“We march together,” Dalinar said, pointing. “I don’t want us spread out. We keep to plateaus next to one another, or the same plateau when possible. And you’ll need to leave your parshmen behind.”
“That’s an unusual requirement,” Aladar said with a frown.
“We’re marching against their cousins,” Dalinar said. “Best to not risk the possibility of them turning against us.”
“But they’d never… Bah, whatever. It can be done.”
Dalinar nodded, extending a hand to Aladar as, behind, Roion and Amaram finally trotted up; Dalinar had outstripped them on Gallant.
“Thank you,” Dalinar said to Aladar.
“You really do believe in all of this, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
Aladar extended his hand, but hesitated. “You realize that I’m stained through and through. I’ve got blood on these hands, Dalinar. I’m not some perfect, honorable knight as you seem to want to pretend.”
“I know you’re not,” Dalinar said, taking the hand. “I’m not either. We will have to do.”
They shared a nod, then Dalinar turned Gallant and began to trot back toward his own army. Roion groaned, complaining about his thighs after having galloped all the way over. The ride today was not going to be pleasant for him.
Amaram fell in beside Dalinar. “First Sebarial, then Aladar? Your trust seems to come cheaply today, Dalinar.”
“Would you have me turn them away?”
“Think how spectacular this victory would be if we did it on our own.”
“I hope we’re above such vainglory, old friend,” Dalinar said. They rode for a time, passing Adolin and Shallan again. Dalinar scanned his force and noticed something. A tall man in blue sat on a stone in the midst of Bridge Four’s bodyguards.
Speaking of fools…
“Come with me,” Dalinar said to Amaram.
Amaram let his horse lag behind. “I think I should go see to—”
“Come,” Dalinar said sharply. “I want you to speak to that young man so we can put a stop to the rumors and the things he’s been saying about you. Those don’t do anyone any good.”
“Very well,” Amaram said, catching up.
* * *
Kaladin found himself standing up amid the bridgemen, despite the pain of his leg, as he noticed Adolin and Shallan riding past. He followed the pair with his eyes. Adolin, astride his thick-hooved Ryshadium, and Shallan on a more modestly sized brown animal.
She looked gorgeous. Kaladin was willing to admit it, if only to himself. Brilliant red hair, ready smile. She said something clever; Kaladin could almost hear the words. He waited, hoping that she’d look toward him, meet his eyes across the short distance.
She didn’t. She rode on, and Kaladin felt like an utter fool. A part of him wanted to hate Adolin for holding her attention, but he found that he couldn’t. The truth was, he liked Adolin. And those two were good for one another. They fit.
Perhaps Kaladin could hate that.
He settled back down on a rock, bowing his head. The bridgemen crowded in around him. Hopefully they hadn’t seen Kaladin following Shallan with his eyes, straining to hear her voice. Renarin stood, like a shade, at the back of the group. The bridgemen were coming to accept him, but he still seemed very awkward around them. Of course, he seemed awkward around most people.
I need to talk to him more about his condition, Kaladin thought. Something seemed off to him about that man and his explanation of the epilepsy.
“Why are you here, sir?” Bisig asked, drawing Kaladin’s attention back to the other bridgemen.
“I wanted to see you off,” Kaladin said, sighing. “I assumed you’d be happy to see me.”
“You are like child,” Rock said, wagging a thick finger at Kaladin. “What would you do, great Captain Stormblessed, if you caught one of these men walking about with hurt leg? You would have that man beaten! Once he healed, of course.”
“I thought,” Kaladin noted, “that I was your commander.”
“Nah, can’t be,” Teft said, “because our commander would be smart enough to stay in bed.”
“And eat much stew,” Rock said. “I left you stew to eat while I am gone.”
“You’re going on the expedition?” Kaladin asked, looking up at the large Horneater. “I thought you were just seeing the men off. You aren’t willing to fight. What will you do out there?”
“Someone must fix food for them,” Rock said. “This expedition, it will take days. I will not leave my friends to the mercy of camp chefs. Ha! The food they cook will all be from Soulcast grain and meat. Tastes like crem! Someone must come with proper spices.”
Kaladin looked up at the group of frowning men. “Fine,” he said. “I’ll go back. Storms, I…”
Why were the bridgemen parting? Rock looked over his shoulder, then laughed, backing away. “Now we shall see real trouble.”
Behind them, Dalinar Kholin was climbing from his saddle. Kaladin sighed, then waved for Lopen to help him to his feet so he could salute properly. He got upright—earning a glare from Teft—before noticing that Dalinar was not alone.
Amaram. Kaladin stiffened, straining to keep his face expressionless.
Dalinar and Amaram approached. The pain in Kaladin’s leg seemed to fade, and for the moment he could only see that man. That monster of a man. Wearing Plate Kaladin had earned, a golden cloak billowing out behind, bearing the symbol of the Knights Radiant.
Control yourself, Kaladin thought. He managed to swallow his rage. Last time it had gotten the better of him, he’d earned himself weeks in prison.
“You should be resting, soldier,” Dalinar said.
“Yes, sir,” Kaladin replied. “My men have already made that abundantly clear.”
“Then you trained them well. I’m proud to have them along with me on this expedition.”
Teft saluted. “If there is danger to you, Brightlord, it will be out there on the Plains. We can’t protect you if we wait back here.”
Kaladin frowned, realizing something. “Skar is here… Teft… so who is watching the king?”
“We’ve seen to it, sir,” Teft said. “Brightlord Dalinar asked me leave our best man behind with a team of his own selection. They’ll watch the king.”
Their best man…
Coldness. Moash. Moash had been left in charge of the king’s safety, and had a team of his own choosing.
Storms.
“Amaram,” Dalinar said, waving for the highlord to step up. “You told me that you’d never seen this man before arriving here on the Shattered Plains. Is that true?”