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She’d never be a great scribe—she didn’t have the youthful training in art and letters of a Vorin woman. Besides, she didn’t like books, and preferred her meditations. But she’d tried hard these last years, and he was impressed.

She still complained that he didn’t see Renarin enough. The other son was unfit for battle, and spent most of his time in Kholinar. Evi spent half the year back with him.

No, no, Dalinar thought, writing a glyph on the map. The coast is the expected route. What then? An amphibious assault across the lake? He’d need to see if he could get ships for that.

A scribe eventually entered bearing the king’s letter, and everyone but Dalinar and Evi left. Evi held the letter and hesitated. “Do you want to sit, or—”

“No, go ahead.”

Evi cleared her voice. “ ‘Brother,’ ” the letter began, “ ‘the treaty is sealed. Your efforts in Jah Keved are to be commended, and this should be a time of celebration and congratulations. Indeed, on a personal note, I wish to express my pride in you. The word from our best generals is that your tactical instincts have matured to full-fledged strategic genius. I never counted myself among their ranks, but to a man, they commend you as their equal.

“ ‘As I have grown to become a king, it seems you have found your place as our general. I’m most interested to hear your own reports of the small mobile team tactics you’ve been employing. I would like to speak in person at length about all of this—indeed, I have important revelations of my own I would like to share. It would be best if we could meet in person. Once, I enjoyed your company every day. Now I believe it has been three years since we last spoke face to face.’ ”

“But,” Dalinar said, interrupting, “the Rift needs to be dealt with.”

Evi broke off, looking at him, then back down at the page. She continued reading. “ ‘Unfortunately, our meeting will have to wait a few storms longer. Though your efforts on the border have certainly helped solidify our power, I have failed to dominate Rathalas and its renegade leader with politics.

“ ‘I must send you to the Rift again. You are to quell this faction. Civil war could tear Alethkar to shreds, and I dare not wait any longer. In truth, I wish I’d listened when we spoke—so many years ago—and you challenged me to send you to the Rift.

“ ‘Sadeas will gather reinforcements and join you. Please send word of your strategic assessment of the problem. Be warned, we are certain now that one of the other highprinces—we don’t know who—is supporting Tanalan and his rebellion. He may have access to Shards. I wish you strength of purpose, and the Heralds’ own blessings, in your new task. With love and respect, Gavilar.’ ”

Evi looked up. “How did you know, Dalinar? You’ve been poring over those maps for weeks—maps of the Crownlands and of Alethkar. You knew he was going to assign you this task.”

“What kind of strategist would I be if I couldn’t foresee the next battle?”

“I thought we were going to relax,” Evi said. “We were going to be done with the killing.”

“With the momentum I have? What a waste that would be! If not for this problem in Rathalas, Gavilar would have found somewhere else for me to fight. Herdaz again, perhaps. You can’t have your best general sitting around collecting crem.”

Besides. There would be men and women among Gavilar’s advisors who worried about Dalinar. If anyone was a threat to the throne, it would be the Blackthorn—particularly with the respect he’d gained from the kingdom’s generals. Though Dalinar had decided years ago that he would never do such a thing, many at court would think the kingdom safer if he were kept away.

“No, Evi,” he said as he made another notation, “I doubt we will ever settle back in Kholinar again.”

He nodded to himself. That was the way to get the Rift. One of his mobile bands could round and secure the lake’s beach. He could move the entire army across it then, attacking far faster than the Rift expected.

Satisfied, he looked up. And found Evi crying.

The sight stunned him, and he dropped his pencil. She tried to hold it back, turning toward the fire and wrapping her arms around herself, but the sniffles sounded as distinct and disturbing as breaking bones.

Kelek’s breath … he could face soldiers and storms, falling boulders and dying friends, but nothing in his training had ever prepared him to deal with these soft tears.

“Seven years,” she whispered. “Seven years we’ve been out here, living in wagons and waystops. Seven years of murder, of chaos, of men crying to their wounds.”

“You married—”

“Yes, I married a soldier. It’s my fault for not being strong enough to deal with the consequences. Thank you, Dalinar. You’ve made that very clear.”

This was what it was like to feel helpless. “I … thought you were growing to like it. You now fit in with the other women.”

“The other women? Dalinar, they make me feel stupid.”

“But…”

“Conversation is a contest to them,” Evi said, throwing her hands up. “Everything has to be a contest to you Alethi, always trying to show up everyone else. For the women it’s this awful, unspoken game to prove how witty they each are. I’ve thought … maybe the only answer, to make you proud, is to go to the Nightwatcher and ask for the blessing of intelligence. The Old Magic can change a person. Make something great of them—”

“Evi,” Dalinar cut in. “Please, don’t speak of that place or that creature. It’s blasphemous.”

“You say that, Dalinar,” she said. “But no one actually cares about religion here. Oh, they make sure to point out how superior their beliefs are to mine. But who actually ever worries about the Heralds, other than to swear by their names? You bring ardents to battle merely to Soulcast rocks into grain. That way, you don’t have to stop killing each other long enough to find something to eat.”

Dalinar approached, then settled down into the other seat by the hearth. “It is … different in your homeland?”

She rubbed her eyes, and he wondered if she’d see through his attempt to change the subject. Talking about her people often smoothed over their arguments.

“Yes,” she said. “True, there are those who don’t care about the One or the Heralds. They say we shouldn’t accept Iriali or Vorin doctrines as our own. But Dalinar, many do care. Here … here you just pay some ardent to burn glyphwards for you and call it done.”

Dalinar took a deep breath and tried again. “Perhaps, after I’ve seen to the rebels, I can persuade Gavilar not to give me another assignment. We could travel. Go west, to your homeland.”

“So you could kill my people instead?”

“No! I wouldn’t—”

“They’d attack you, Dalinar. My brother and I are exiles, if you haven’t forgotten.”

He hadn’t seen Toh in a decade, ever since the man had gone to Herdaz. He reportedly liked it quite well, living on the coast, protected by Alethi bodyguards.

Evi sighed. “I’ll never see the sunken forests again. I’ve accepted that. I will live my life in this harsh land, so dominated by wind and cold.”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy