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“Don’t mind her, Ialai,” he said, mustache wet with wine. “The godless have no concept of proper decency. Everyone knows that the only reason to abandon belief in the Almighty is so that you can explore vice.”

Oh, Ruthar, Dalinar thought. You can’t win this fight. Jasnah has thought about the topic far more than you have. It’s a familiar battleground to her—

Storms, that was it.

“They aren’t going to attack Jah Keved!” Dalinar shouted, interrupting Jasnah’s rebuttal.

Those in the room turned to him, surprised, Jasnah’s mouth half open.

“Dalinar?” Highprince Aladar asked. “We decided that Jah Keved was the most likely—”

“No,” Dalinar said. “No, we know the terrain too well! The Alethi and the Vedens have spent generations fighting over that land.”

“What, then?” Jasnah asked.

Dalinar ran back into the map room. The others flooded in around him. “They went to Marat, right?” Dalinar asked. “They cut through Emul and into Marat, silencing spanreeds nationwide. Why? Why go there?”

“Azir was too well fortified,” Aladar said. “From Marat, the Voidbringers can strike at Jah Keved from both the west and the east.”

“Through the bottleneck in Triax?” Dalinar asked. “We talk of Jah Keved’s weakness, but that’s relative. They still have a huge standing army, strong fortifications. If the enemy wades into Jah Keved now, while solidifying their own power, it will drain their resources and stall their conquest. That isn’t what they want right now, when they still have the upper hand in momentum.”

“Where, then?” Nan Urian asked.

“A place that was hit hardest of all by the new storms,” Dalinar said, pointing at the map. “A place whose military might was severely undermined by the Everstorm. A place with an Oathgate.”

Queen Fen gasped, safehand going to her lips.

“Thaylen City?” Navani asked. “Are you sure?”

“If the enemy takes Thaylen City,” Dalinar said, “they can blockade Jah Keved, Kharbranth, and what few lands in Alethkar we still own. They can seize command of the entire Southern Depths and launch naval assaults on Tashikk and Shinovar. They could swarm New Natanan and have a position from which to assault the Shattered Plains. Strategically, Thaylen City is far more important than Jah Keved—but at the same time, far worse defended.”

“But they’d need ships,” Aladar said.

“The parshmen took our fleet.…” Fen said.

“After that first terrible storm,” Dalinar said, “how were there any ships left for them to take?”

Fen frowned. “As I think about it, that’s remarkable, isn’t it? There were dozens remaining, as if the winds left them alone. Because the enemy needed them…”

Storms. “I’ve been thinking too much like an Alethi,” Dalinar said. “Boots on stone. But the enemy moved into Marat immediately, a perfect position from which to launch at Thaylen City.”

“We need to revise our plans!” Fen said.

“Peace, Your Majesty,” Aladar said. “We have armies in Thaylen City already. Good Alethi troops. Nobody is better on the ground than Alethi infantry.”

“We have three divisions there right now,” Dalinar said. “We’ll want at least three more.”

“Sir,” Fen’s son said. “Brightlord. That’s not enough.”

Dalinar glanced at Fen. Her wizened admiral nodded.

“Speak,” Dalinar said.

“Sir,” the youth said, “we’re glad to have your troops on the island. Kelek’s breath! If you’re going to get into a fight, you definitely want the Alethi on your side. But an enemy fleet is a much larger problem than you’re assuming—one you can’t easily fix by moving troops around. If the enemy ships find Thaylen City well defended, they’ll just sail on and attack Kharbranth, or Dumadari, or any number of defenseless cities along the coast.”

Dalinar grunted. He did think too much like an Alethi. “What, then?”

“We need our own fleet, obviously,” Fen’s admiral said. He had a thick accent of mushed syllables, like a mouth full of moss. “But most of our ships were lost to the blustering Everstorm. Half were abroad, caught unaware. My colleagues now dance upon the bottom of the depths.”

“And the rest of your fleet was stolen,” Dalinar said with a grunt. “What else do we have?”

“His Majesty Taravangian has ships at our port,” the Veden highprince said.

All eyes turned toward Taravangian. “Merchant ships only,” the old man said. “Vessels that carried my healers. We haven’t a true navy, but I did bring twenty ships. I could perhaps provide ten more from Kharbranth.”

“The storm took a number of our ships,” the Veden highprince said, “but the civil war was more devastating. We lost hundreds of sailors. We have more ships than we have crew for right now.”

Fen joined Dalinar beside the map. “We might be able to scrape together a semblance of a navy to intercept the enemy, but the fighting will be on the decks of ships. We’ll need troops.”

“You’ll have them,” Dalinar said.

“Alethi who’ve never seen a rough sea in their lives?” Fen asked, skeptical. She looked to the Azish generals. “Tashikk has a navy, doesn’t it? Staffed and supplemented by Azish troops.”

The generals conferred in their own language. Finally, one spoke through an interpreter. “The Thirteenth Battalion, Red and Gold, has men who do a rotation on ships and patrol the grand waterway. Getting others here would take much time, but the thirteenth is already stationed in Jah Keved.”

“We’ll supplement them with some of my best men,” Dalinar said. Storms, we need those Windrunners active. “Fen, would your admirals present a suggested course for the gathering and deployment of a unified fleet?”

“Sure,” the short woman said. She leaned in, speaking under her breath. “I warn you. Many of my sailors follow the Passions. You’re going to have to do something about these claims of heresy, Blackthorn. Already there’s talk among my people that this is—at long last—the right time for the Thaylens to break free from the Vorin church.”

“I won’t recant,” Dalinar said.

“Even if it causes a wholesale religious collapse in the middle of a war?”

He didn’t reply, and she let him withdraw from the table, thinking about other plans. He spoke with the others about various items, thanked Navani—again—for holding everything together. Then eventually, he decided to go back down below and take a few reports from his stewards.

On his way out, he passed Taravangian, who had taken a seat by the wall. The old man looked distracted by something.

“Taravangian?” Dalinar said. “We’ll leave troops in Jah Keved too, in case I’m wrong. Don’t worry.”

The old man looked to Dalinar, then strangely wiped tears from his eyes.

“Are … are you in pain?” Dalinar asked.

“Yes. But it is nothing you can fix.” He hesitated. “You are a good man, Dalinar Kholin. I did not expect that.”


Tags: Brandon Sanderson The Stormlight Archive Fantasy