“And so…?” Adolin said.
“So I reminded Vamah of how much he relies on the king.”
“I suppose that’s important. But what does it have to do with Sadeas?”
Dalinar didn’t answer. He kept walking across the plateau, stepping up to the lip of the chasm. Adolin joined him, waiting. A few seconds later, someone approached from behind in clinking Shardplate, then Sadeas stepped up beside Dalinar at the lip of the chasm. Adolin narrowed his eyes at the man, and Sadeas raised an eyebrow, but said nothing about his presence.
“Dalinar,” Sadeas said, turning his eyes forward, looking out across the Plains.
“Sadeas.” Dalinar’s voice was controlled and curt.
“You spoke with Vamah?”
“Yes. He saw through what I was doing.”
“Of course he did.” There was a hint of amusement in Sadeas’s voice. “I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
“You told him you were increasing what you charge him for wood?”
Sadeas controlled the only large forest in the region. “Doubling it,” Sadeas said.
Adolin looked over his shoulder. Vamah was watching them stand there, and his expression was as thunderous as a highstorm, angerspren boiling up from the ground around him like small pools of bubbling blood. Dalinar and Sadeas together sent him a very sound message. Why…this is probably why they invited him on the hunt, Adolin realized. So they could maneuver him.
“Will it work?” Dalinar asked.
“I’m certain it will,” Sadeas said. “Vamah’s an agreeable enough fellow, when prodded—he’ll see that it’s better to use the Soulcasters than spend a fortune running a supply line back to Alethkar.”
“Perhaps we should tell the king about these sorts of things,” Dalinar said, glancing at the king, who stood in the pavilion, oblivious of what had been done.
Sadeas sighed. “I’ve tried; he hasn’t a mind for this sort of work. Leave the boy to his preoccupations, Dalinar. His are the grand ideals of justice, holding the sword high as he rides against his father’s enemies.”
“Lately, he seems less preoccupied with the Parshendi, and more worried about assassins in the night,” Dalinar said. “The boy’s paranoia worries me. I don’t know where he gets it.”
Sadeas laughed. “Dalinar, are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.”
“I know, I know. But surely you can see where the boy comes by the paranoia!”
“From the way his father was killed?”
“From the way his uncle treats him! A thousand guards? Halts on each and every plateau to let soldiers ‘secure’ the next one over? Really, Dalinar?”
“I like to be careful.”
“Others call that being paranoid.”
“The Codes—”
“The Codes are a bunch of idealized nonsense,” Sadeas said, “devised by poets to describe the way they think things should have been.”
“Gavilar believed in them.”
“And look where it got him.”
“And where were you, Sadeas, when he was fighting for his life?”
Sadeas’s eyes narrowed. “So we’re going to rehash that now? Like old lovers, crossing paths unexpectedly at a feast?”
Adolin’s father didn’t reply. Once again, Adolin found himself baffled by Dalinar’s relationship with Sadeas. Their barbs were genuine; one needed only look in their eyes to see that the men could barely stand one another.
And yet, here they were, apparently planning and executing a joint manipulation of another highprince.
“I’ll protect the boy my way,” Sadeas said. “You do it your way. But don’t complain to me about his paranoia when you insist on wearing your uniform to bed, just in case the Parshendi suddenly decide—against all reason and precedent—to attack the warcamps. ‘I don’t know where he gets it’ indeed!”
“Let’s go, Adolin,” Dalinar said, turning to stride away. Adolin followed.
“Dalinar,” Sadeas called from behind.
Dalinar hesitated, looking back.
“Have you found it yet?” Sadeas asked. “Why he wrote what he did?”
Dalinar shook his head.
“You’re not going to find the answer,” Sadeas said. “It’s a foolish quest, old friend. One that’s tearing you apart. I know what happens to you during storms. Your mind is unraveling because of all this stress you put upon yourself.”
Dalinar returned to walking away. Adolin hurried after him. What had that last part been about? Why “he” wrote? Men didn’t write. Adolin opened his mouth to ask, but he could sense his father’s mood. This was not a time to prod him.
He walked with Dalinar up to a small rock hill on the plateau. They picked their way up it to the top, and from there looked out at the fallen chasmfiend. Dalinar’s men continued harvesting its meat and carapace.
He and his father stood there for a time, Adolin brimming with questions, yet unable to find a way to phrase them.
Eventually, Dalinar spoke. “Have I ever told you what Gavilar’s final words to me were?”
“You haven’t. I’ve always wondered about that night.”
“‘Brother, follow the Codes tonight. There is something strange upon the winds.’ That’s what he said to me, the last thing he told me just before we began the treaty-signing celebration.”
“I didn’t realize that Uncle Gavilar followed the Codes.”
“He’s the one who first showed them to me. He found them as a relic of old Alethkar, back when we’d first been united. He began following them shortly before he died.” Dalinar grew hesitant. “Those were odd days, son. Jasnah and I weren’t sure what to think of the changes in Gavilar. At the time, I thought the Codes foolishness, even the one that commanded an officer to avoid strong drink during times of war. Especially that one.” His voice grew even softer. “I was unconscious on the ground when Gavilar was murdered. I can remember voices, trying to wake me up, but I was too addled by my wine. I should have been there for him.”
He looked to Adolin. “I cannot live in the past. It is foolishness to do so. I blame myself for Gavilar’s death, but there is nothing to be done for him now.”
Adolin nodded.
“Son, I keep hoping that if I make you follow the Codes long enough, you will see—as I have—their importance. Hopefully you will not need as dramatic an example of it as I did. Regardless, you need to understand. You speak of Sadeas, of beating him, of competing with him. Do you know of Sadeas’s part in my brother’s death?”
“He was the decoy,” Adolin said. Sadeas, Gavilar, and Dalinar had been good friends up until the king’s death. Everyone knew it. They had conquered Alethkar together.
“Yes,” Dalinar said. “He was with the king and heard the soldiers crying that a Shardbearer was attacking. The decoy idea was Sadeas’s plan—he put on one of Gavilar’s robes and fled in Gavilar’s place. It was suicide, what he did. Wearing no Plate, making a Shardbearer assassin chase him. I honestly think it was one of the bravest things I’ve ever known a man to do.”
“But it failed.”
“Yes. And there’s a part of me that can never forgive Sadeas for that failure. I know it’s irrational, but he should have been there, with Gavilar. Just like I should have been. We both failed our king, and we cannot forgive one another. But the two of us are still united in one thing. We made a vow on that day. We’d protect Gavilar’s son. No matter what the cost, no matter what other things came between us, we would protect Elhokar.
“And so that’s why I’m here on these Plains. It isn’t wealth or glory. I care nothing for those things, not any longer. I came for the brother I loved, and for the nephew I love in his own right. And, in a way, this is what divides Sadeas and me even as it unites us. Sadeas thinks that the best way to protect Elhokar is to kill the Parshendi. He drives himself, and his men, brutally, to get to those plateaus and fight. I believe a part of him thinks I’m breaking my vow by not doing the same.
“But that’s not the way to protect Elhokar. He needs a stable throne, allies that support him, not highprinces that bicker. Making a strong Alethkar will protect him better than killing our enemies will. This was Gavilar’s life’s work, uniting the highprinces…”
He trailed off. Adolin waited for more, but it did not come.
“Sadeas,” Adolin finally said. “I’m…surprised to hear you call him brave.”
“He is brave. And cunning. Sometimes, I make the mistake of letting his extravagant dress and mannerisms lead me to underestimate him. But there’s a good man inside of him, son. He is not our enemy. We can be petty sometimes, the two of us. But he works to protect Elhokar, so I ask you to respect that.”
How did one respond to that? You hate him, but you ask me not to? “All right,” Adolin said. “I’ll watch myself around him. But, Father, I still don’t trust him. Please. At least consider the possibility that he’s not as committed as you are, that he’s playing you.”
“Very well,” Dalinar said. “I’ll consider it.”
Adolin nodded. It was something. “What of what he said at the end? Something about writing?”
Dalinar hesitated. “It is a secret he and I share. Other than us, only Jasnah and Elhokar know of it. I’ve contemplated for a time whether I should tell you, as you will take my place should I fall. I spoke to you of the last words my brother said to me.”
“Asking you to follow the Codes.”
“Yes. But there is more. Something else he said to me, but not with spoken words. Instead, these are words that…he wrote.”
“Gavilar could write?”
“When Sadeas discovered the king’s body, he found words written on the fragment of a board, using Gavilar’s own blood. ‘Brother,’ they said. ‘You must find the most important words a man can say.’ Sadeas hid the fragment away, and we later had Jasnah read the words. If it is true that he could write—and other possibilities seem implausible—it was a shameful secret he hide. As I said, his actions grew very odd near the end of his life.”
“And what does it mean? Those words?”
“It’s a quote,” Dalinar said. “From an ancient book called The Way of Kings. Gavilar favored readings from the volume near the end of his life—he spoke to me of it often. I didn’t realize the quote was from it until recently; Jasnah discovered it for me. I’ve now had the text of the book read to me a few times, but so far, I find nothing to explain why he wrote what he did.” He paused. “The book was used by the Radiants as a kind of guidebook, a book of counsel on how to live their lives.”
The Radiants? Stormfather! Adolin thought. The delusions his father had…they often seemed to have something to do with the Radiants. This was further proof that the delusions were related to Dalinar’s guilt over his brother’s death.