Oathbringer by Brandon Sanderson
“Still. Let’s go up, shall we?”
Taravangian nodded, standing. He wobbled on unsteady legs and Dalinar hurried over to help him. Stabilized, Taravangian patted Dalinar’s hand. “Thank you. You know, I’ve always felt old. But lately, it seems my body is determined to give me persistent reminders.”
“Let me summon a palanquin to carry you.”
“No, please. If I give up walking, I fear my deterioration will increase. I’ve seen similar things happen to people in my hospitals.” But he held Dalinar’s arm as they walked toward the doorway. Outside, Dalinar collected some guards of his own along with Taravangian’s large Thaylen bodyguard. They started toward the lifts.
“Do you know,” Dalinar said, “if there’s word…”
“From Kholinar?” Taravangian asked.
Dalinar nodded. He vaguely remembered updates from Navani. No news of Adolin, Elhokar, or the Radiants. But had he been of sound enough mind to listen?
“I’m sorry, Dalinar,” Taravangian said. “So far as I know, we haven’t had a message from them. But we must keep hope, of course! They might have lost their spanreed, or gotten trapped in the city.”
I … may have felt something, the Stormfather said. During a recent highstorm, it felt like Stormblessed was there with me. I do not know what it means, for I cannot see him—or the others—anywhere. I presumed them dead, but now … now I find myself believing. Why?
“You have hope,” Dalinar whispered, smiling.
“Dalinar?” Taravangian asked.
“Just whispering to myself, Your Majesty.”
“If I might say … You seem stronger today. You’ve decided something?”
“More, I’ve remembered something.”
“Is it something you can share with a worried old man?”
“Not yet. I’ll try to explain once I have it figured out myself.”
After an extended trip up the lifts, Dalinar led Taravangian into a quiet, windowless chamber on the penultimate floor of the tower. They’d dubbed it the Gallery of Maps, after a similar location in the warcamps.
Aladar led the meeting, standing beside a table that was covered by a large map of Alethkar and Jah Keved. The dark-skinned Alethi man wore his war uniform—the mix of a traditional takama skirt and modern jacket that had been catching on among his officers. His bodyguard, Mintez, stood behind him in full Shardplate—Aladar preferred not to use the Shards personally. He was a general, not a warrior. He nodded to Dalinar and Taravangian when they entered.
Ialai sat nearby, and studied Dalinar, saying nothing. He’d almost have welcomed a wisecrack; in the old days, she’d been quick to joke with him. Her silence now didn’t mean she was being respectful. It meant she was saving her barbs to whisper where he couldn’t hear.
Highprince Ruthar—thick-armed and wearing a full beard—sat with Ialai. He’d opposed Dalinar from the start. The other Alethi highprince who had come today was Hatham, a long-necked man with light orange eyes. He wore a red and gold uniform of a type that Dalinar hadn’t seen before, with a short jacket that buttoned only at the top. Silly-looking, but what did Dalinar know of fashion? The man was extremely polite, and he ran a tight army.
Queen Fen had brought the Thaylen high admiral, a scrawny old man with mustaches that drooped almost to the table. He wore a short sailor’s saber and sash, and looked like exactly the type who would complain about being stuck on the land for too long. She’d also brought her son—the one Dalinar had dueled—who saluted Dalinar sharply. Dalinar saluted back. That boy would make an excellent officer, if he could learn to keep his temper.
The Azish emperor wasn’t there, nor was their little Edgedancer. Instead, Azir had sent a collection of scholars. Azish “generals” tended to be of the armchair type, military historians and theorists who spent their days in books. Dalinar was certain they had men with practical knowledge in their military, but those rarely ended up promoted. So long as you failed certain tests, you could remain in the field and command.
Dalinar had met the two Veden highprinces during his trip to their city. The brothers were tall, prim men with short black hair and uniforms much like those of the Alethi. Taravangian had appointed them after their predecessors had been poisoned, following the civil war. Jah Keved obviously still had many problems.
“Dalinar?” Aladar said. He stood up straighter, then saluted. “Brightlord, you’re looking better.”
Storms. How much did the rest of them know?
“I’ve spent some time in meditation,” Dalinar said. “I see you’ve been busy. Tell me about the defensive array.”
“Well,” Aladar said, “we—”
“That’s it?” Queen Fen interrupted. “What in Damnation was wrong with you? You ran all around Vedenar like a wildman, then locked yourself in your room for a week!”
“I was excommunicated from the Vorin church soon after hearing of Kholinar’s fall. I took it poorly. Did you expect me to react by throwing a feast?”
“I expected you to lead us, not sulk.”
I deserved that. “You are right. You can’t have a commander who refuses to command. I’m sorry.”
The Azish whispered among themselves, looking surprised at the bluntness of the exchange. But Fen settled back and Aladar nodded. Dalinar’s mistakes had needed to be aired.
Aladar began explaining their battle preparations. The Azish generals—all wearing robes and Western hats—crowded around, offering commentary through translators. Dalinar used a little Stormlight and touched one on the arm, to gain access to their language for a short time. He found their advice surprisingly astute, considering that they were basically a committee of scribes.
They’d moved ten battalions of Alethi troops through the Oathgates, along with five battalions of Azish. That put fifteen thousand men on the ground in Jah Keved, including some of their most loyal Kholin and Aladar forces.
That seriously cut into his troop numbers. Storms, they’d lost so many at Narak—the companies that Dalinar had remaining at Urithiru were mostly recruits or men from other princedoms who had asked to join his military. Sebarial, for example, had cut back to maintaining only a single division, giving Dalinar the rest to wear Kholin colors.
Dalinar had interrupted a discussion of how to fortify the Jah Keved border. He offered some insights, but mostly listened as they explained their plans: stockpiles here, garrisons there. They hoped the Windrunners would be able to scout for them.
Dalinar nodded, but found that something bothered him about this battle plan. A problem he couldn’t define. They’d done well; their lines of supply had been drawn realistically and their scout posts were spaced for excellent coverage.
What, then, was wrong?
The door opened, revealing Navani, who froze when she saw Dalinar, then melted into a relieved smile. He nodded to her, as one of the Veden highprinces explained why they shouldn’t abandon the backwater strip of land running east of the Horneater Peaks. Aladar had been ready to cede it and use the Peaks as a barrier.
“It’s not only about the opportunity to levy troops from His Majesty’s Horneater subjects, Brightlord,” the highprince—Nan Urian—explained in Alethi. “These lands are lush and well appointed, buffered from storms by the very Alethi highlands you’ve been speaking of. We’ve always fought desperately for them against invasions, because they will succor those who seize them—and provide staging areas for assaults on the rest of Jah Keved!”
Dalinar grunted. Navani stepped over to where most of them stood around the table map, so he reached out and put his arm around her waist. “He’s right, Aladar. I spent a long time skirmishing on that very border. That area is more important strategically than it first appears.”
“Holding it is going to be tough,” Aladar said. “We’ll get mired in an extended battle for that ground.”
“Which is what we want, isn’t it?” the Veden highprince said. “The longer we stall the invasion, the more time it will give my Veden brethren to recover.”
“Yes,” Dalinar said. “Yes…” It was easy to get mired in battles along that vast Veden front. How many years had he spent fighting false bandits there? “Let’s take a break. I want to consider this.”
The others seemed to welcome the opportunity. Many stepped into the larger chamber outside, where attendants with spanreeds waited to relay information. Navani stayed beside Dalinar as he surveyed the map. “It’s good to see you up,” she whispered.
“You’re more patient than I deserve. You should have dumped me out of bed and poured the wine on my head.”
“I had a feeling you’d push through.”
“I have for now,” he said. “In the past, a few days—or even weeks—of sobriety didn’t mean much.”
“You’re not the man you were back then.”
Oh, Navani. I never grew beyond that man; I just hid him away. He couldn’t explain that to her yet. Instead, he whispered thanks into her ear, and rested his hand on hers. How could he ever have been frustrated at her advances?
For now, he turned his attention to the maps, and lost himself in them: the fortresses, the storm bunkers, the cities, the drawn-in supply lines.
What’s wrong? Dalinar thought. What am I not seeing?
Ten Silver Kingdoms. Ten Oathgates. The keys to this war. Even if the enemy can’t use them, they can hinder us by seizing them.
One in Alethkar, which they already have. One in Natanatan—the Shattered Plains—which we have. One in Vedenar, one in Azimir, one in Thaylen City. All three ours. But one in Rall Elorim and one in Kurth, both the enemy’s by now. One in Shinovar, belonging to neither side.
That left the one in Panatham in Babatharnam—which the combined Iriali and Riran armies might have captured already—and one in Akinah, which Jasnah was confident had been destroyed long ago.
Jah Keved made the most sense for the enemy to attack, didn’t it? Only … once you engaged yourself in Jah Keved, you were stuck fighting a long war of attrition. You lost mobility, had to dedicate enormous resources to it.
He shook his head, feeling frustrated. He left the map, trailed by Navani, and stepped into the other room for refreshment. At the wine table, he forced himself to pour a warm, spiced orange. Something with no kick.
Jasnah joined the group, delivering a stack of papers to her mother.
“May I see?” Ialai asked.
“No,” Jasnah replied; Dalinar hid a smile in his drink.
“What secrets are you keeping?” Ialai asked. “What happened to your uncle’s grand talk of unification?”
“I suspect that each monarch in this room,” Jasnah said, “would prefer to know that state secrets are allowed to remain their own. This is an alliance, not a wedding.”
Queen Fen nodded at that.
“As for these papers,” Jasnah continued, “they happen to be a scholarly report which my mother has not yet reviewed. We will release what we discover, once we are certain that our translations are correct and that nothing in these notes might give our enemies an advantage against this city.” Jasnah cocked an eyebrow. “Or would you prefer our scholarship be sloppy?”
The Azish seemed mollified by this.
“I just think,” Ialai said, “you showing up here with them is a slap in the face for the rest of us.”
“Ialai,” Jasnah said, “it is good you are here. Sometimes, an intelligent dissenting voice tests and proves a theory. I do wish you’d work harder on the intelligent part.”
Dalinar downed the rest of his drink and smiled as Ialai settled back in her chair, wisely not escalating a verbal battle against Jasnah. Unfortunately, Ruthar did not have similar sense.
“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 ha
“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.