Words of Radiance (Page 102)

“I will see that the king seals pardons for them,” Dalinar said. “Prepare a list for me. Hanging soldiers always feels like a waste.”

Shallan relaxed. One item dealt with.

“There is another matter of some delicacy we must discuss, Brightlord,” Shallan said. They both turned toward Adolin, loitering nearby. He smiled.

And he did have a very nice smile.

When Jasnah had first explained the causal to her, Shallan’s interest had been completely abstract. Marriage into a powerful Alethi house? Allies for her brothers? Legitimacy, and a way to continue working with Jasnah for the salvation of the world? These had seemed like wonderful things.

Looking at Adolin’s grin, however, she didn’t consider any of those advantages. Her pains of speaking of Jasnah didn’t fade completely, but she found it much easier to ignore them when looking at him. She found herself blushing.

This, she thought, could be dangerous.

Adolin stepped up to join them, the hum of conversation all around giving them some privacy within the crowd. He had found a cup of orange wine for her somewhere, which he held out. “Shallan Davar?” he asked.

“Um . . .” Was she? Oh, right. She took the wine. “Yes?”

“Adolin Kholin,” he said. “I am sorry to hear of your hardships. We will need to speak to the king of his sister. I can spare you that task, if I might go in your place.”

“Thank you,” Shallan said. “But I would prefer to see him myself.”

“Of course,” Adolin said. “As for our . . . involvement. It did make a lot more sense when you were Jasnah’s ward, didn’t it?”

“Probably.”

“Though, now that you’re here, perhaps we should go for a walk and just see how things feel.”

“I like to walk,” Shallan said. Stupid! Quick, say something witty. “Um. Your hair is nice.”

A part of her—the part trained by Tyn—groaned.

“My hair?” Adolin said, touching it.

“Yes,” Shallan said, trying to get her sluggish brain working again. “Blond hair isn’t often seen in Jah Keved.”

“Some people see it as a mark of my bloodline being impure.”

“Funny. They say the same about me because of my hair.” She smiled at him. That seemed the right move, since he smiled back. Her verbal recovery hadn’t been the deftest of her career, but she couldn’t be doing too poorly, so long as he was smiling.

Dalinar cleared his throat. Shallan blinked. She’d completely forgotten that the highprince was there.

“Adolin,” he said, “fetch me some wine.”

“Father?” Adolin turned to him. “Oh. All right, then.” He walked off. Ash’s eyes, that man was handsome. She turned to Dalinar who, well, wasn’t. Oh, he was distinguished, but his nose had been broken at some point, and his face was a tad unfortunate. The bruises didn’t help either.

In fact, he was downright intimidating.

“I would know more of you,” he said softly, “the precise status of your family, and why you are so eager to be involved with my son.”

“My family is destitute,” Shallan said. Frankness seemed the right approach with this man. “My father is dead, though the people to whom we owe money do not yet know it. I had not considered a union with Adolin until Jasnah suggested it, but I would seize it eagerly, if allowed. Marriage into your house would provide my family with a great deal of protection.”

She still didn’t know what to do about the Soulcaster her brothers owed. One step at a time.

Dalinar grunted. He wouldn’t have expected her to be so direct. “So you have nothing to offer,” he said.

“From what Jasnah said to me of your opinions,” Shallan said, “I did not assume that my monetary or political offerings would be your first consideration. If such a union was your goal, you’d have had Prince Adolin married off years ago.” She winced at her forwardness. “With all due respect, Brightlord.”

“No offense taken,” Dalinar said. “I like it when people are direct. Just because I want to let my son have a say in the matter doesn’t mean I don’t want him to marry well. A woman from a minor foreign house who professes her family is destitute and who brings nothing to the union?”

“I did not say I could offer nothing,” Shallan replied. “Brightlord, how many wards has Jasnah Kholin taken in the last ten years?”

“None that I know of,” he admitted.

“Do you know how many she has turned away?”

“I’ve an inkling.”

“Yet she took me. Might that not constitute an endorsement of what I can offer?”

Dalinar nodded slowly. “We will maintain the causal for now,” he said. “The reason I agreed to it in the first place still stands—I want Adolin to be seen as unavailable to those who would manipulate him for political gain. If you can somehow persuade me, Brightness Navani, and of course the lad himself, we can progress the causal to a full betrothal. In the meantime, I’ll give you a position among my lesser clerks. You can prove yourself there.”

The offer, though generous, felt like ropes tightening about her. The stipend of a lesser clerk would be enough to live on, but nothing to brag about. And she had no doubt that Dalinar would be watching her. Those eyes of his were scarily discerning. She wouldn’t be able to move without her actions being reported to him.

His charity would be her prison.

“That is generous of you, Brightlord,” she found herself saying, “but I actually have—”

“Dalinar!” one of the others in the room called. “Are we going to start this meeting again sometime today, or am I going to have to order in a proper dinner!”

Dalinar turned toward a plump, bearded man in traditional clothing—an open-fronted robe over a loose shirt and warrior’s skirt, called a takama. Highprince Sebarial, Shallan thought. Jasnah’s notes dismissed him as obnoxious and useless. She’d had kinder words even for Highprince Sadeas, whom she had noted was not to be trusted.

“Fine, fine, Sebarial,” Dalinar said, breaking away from Shallan and walking to a group of seats in the center of the room. He settled down in one beside the desk there. A proud man with a prominent nose settled down next to him. That would be the king, Elhokar. He was younger than Shallan had pictured. Why had Sebarial called on Dalinar to reconvene the meeting, and not the king?

The next few moments were a test of Shallan’s preparation as highborn men and women settled themselves in the lavish chairs. Beside each one was a small table and behind that, a master-servant for important needs. A number of parshmen kept the tables filled with wine, nuts, and fresh and dried fruit. Shallan shivered each time one of those passed her.

She counted the highprinces off in her head. Sadeas was easy to pick out, red-faced from visible veins under the skin, like her father had displayed after drinking. Others nodded to him and let him seat himself first. He seemed to command as much respect as Dalinar. His wife, Ialai, was a slender-necked woman with thick lips, large bust, and a wide mouth. Jasnah had noted that she was as shrewd as her husband.

Two highprinces sat to either side of the couple. One was Aladar, a renowned duelist. The short man was listed in Jasnah’s notes as a powerful highprince, fond of taking risks, known to gamble in the type of games of random chance that the devotaries forbade. He and Sadeas seemed to be on very friendly terms. Weren’t they enemies? She’d read that they often squabbled over lands. Well, that was obviously a broken stone, for they seemed united as they regarded Dalinar.

Joining them were Highprince Ruthar and his wife. Jasnah considered them to be little more than thieves, but warned that the pair were dangerous and opportunistic.

The room seemed oriented so that all eyes were on those two factions. The king and Dalinar against Sadeas, Ruthar, and Aladar. Obviously, the political alignments had changed since Jasnah made her notes.

The room hushed, and nobody seemed to care that Shallan was watching. Adolin took a seat behind his father, next to a younger man in spectacles and an empty seat probably vacated by Navani. Shallan carefully rounded the room—the peripheries were clogged with guards, attendants, and even some men in Shardplate—getting out of Dalinar’s direct line of sight, just in case he noticed her and decided to eject her.

Brightlady Jayla Ruthar spoke first, leaning forward over clasped hands. “Your Majesty,” she said, “I fear that our conversation this day has run in circles, and that nothing is being accomplished. Your safety is, of course, our greatest concern.”

Across the circle of highprinces, Sebarial snorted loudly as he chewed on slices of melon. Everyone else seemed to pointedly ignore the obnoxious, bearded man.

“Yes,” Aladar said. “The Assassin in White. We must do something. I will not wait in my palace to be assassinated.”

“He is murdering princes and kings all across the world!” Roion added. The man looked like a turtle to Shallan, with those hunched shoulders and that balding head. What had Jasnah said about him . . . ?

That he’s a coward, Shallan thought. He always chooses the safe option.

“We must present a unified Alethkar,” Hatham said—she recognized him immediately, with that long neck and refined way of speaking. “We must not allow ourselves to be attacked one at a time, and we must not squabble.”