“Good. Now watch.” Dalinar gestured into the room. One of his guards pulled a lever, and the stonework ledge retracted into the wall.
“It moved!” Adolin said. “Do that again!”
The soldier obliged, using the lever to make the ledge stick out, then retract again.
“Neat!” Adolin said. So full of energy, as always. If only Dalinar could harness that for the battlefield. He wouldn’t need Shards to conquer.
“Why did they build that, do you think?” Dalinar asked.
“In case people climb it! You could make them drop back down!”
“Defense against Shardbearers,” Dalinar said, nodding. “A fall this far would crack their Plate, but the fortress also has interior corridor sections that are too narrow to maneuver in properly with Plate and Blade.”
Dalinar smiled. Who knew that such a gem had been hiding in the highlands between Alethkar and Jah Keved? This solitary keep would provide a nice barrier if true war ever did break out with the Vedens.
He gestured for Adolin to move back, then shuttered the window and rubbed his chilled hands. This chamber was decorated like a lodge, hung with old forgotten greatshell trophies. At the side, a soldier stoked a flame in the hearth.
The battles with the Vedens had wound down. Though the last few fights had been disappointing, having his son with him had been an absolute delight. Adolin hadn’t gone into battle, of course, but he’d joined them at tactics meetings. Dalinar had at first assumed the generals would be annoyed at the presence of a child, but it was hard to find little Adolin annoying. He was so earnest, so interested.
Together, he and Adolin joined a few of Dalinar’s lesser officers at the room’s table map. “Now,” Dalinar said to Adolin, “let’s see how well you’ve been paying attention. Where are we now?”
Adolin leaned over, pointing at the map. “This is our new keep, which you won for the crown! Here’s the old border, where it used to be. Here’s the new border in blue, which we won back from those thieving Vedens. They’ve held our land for twenty years.”
“Excellent,” Dalinar said. “But it’s not merely land we’ve won.”
“Trade treaties!” Adolin said. “That’s the point of the big ceremony we had to do. You and that Veden highprince, in formal dress. We won the right to trade for tons of stuff for cheap.”
“Yes, but that’s not the most important thing we won.”
Adolin frowned. “Um … horses…”
“No, son, the most important thing we’ve won is legitimacy. In signing this new treaty, the Veden king has recognized Gavilar as the rightful king of Alethkar. We’ve not just defended our borders, we’ve forestalled a greater war, as the Vedens now acknowledge our right to rule—and won’t be pressing their own.”
Adolin nodded, understanding.
It was gratifying to see how much one could accomplish in both politics and trade by liberally murdering the other fellow’s soldiers. These last years full of skirmishes had reminded Dalinar of why he lived. More, they’d given him something new. In his youth, he’d warred, then spent the evenings drinking with his soldiers.
Now he had to explain his choices, vocalize them for the ears of an eager young boy who had questions for everything—and expected Dalinar to know the answers.
Storms, it was a challenge. But it felt good. Incredibly good. He had no intention of ever returning to a useless life spent wasting away in Kholinar, going to parties and getting into tavern brawls. Dalinar smiled and accepted a cup of warmed wine, surveying the map. Though Adolin had been focused on the region where they were fighting the Vedens, Dalinar’s eyes were instead drawn to another section.
It included, written in pencil, the numbers he’d requested: projections of troops at the Rift.
“Viim cachi eko!” Evi said, stepping into the room, holding her arms tight to her chest and shivering. “I had thought central Alethkar was cold. Adolin Kholin, where is your jacket?”
The boy looked down, as if suddenly surprised that he wasn’t wearing it. “Um…” He looked to Teleb, who merely smiled, shaking his head.
“Run along, son,” Dalinar said. “You have geography lessons today.”
“Can I stay? I don’t want to leave you.”
He wasn’t speaking merely of today. The time was approaching when Adolin would go to spend part of the year in Kholinar, to drill with the swordmasters and receive formal training in diplomacy. He spent most of the year with Dalinar, but it was important he get some refinement in the capital.
“Go,” Dalinar said. “If you pay attention in your lesson, I’ll take you riding tomorrow.”
Adolin sighed, then saluted. He hopped off his stool and gave his mother a hug—which was un-Alethi, but Dalinar suffered the behavior. Then he was out the door.
Evi stepped up to the fire. “So cold. What possessed someone to build a fortress way up here?”
“It’s not that bad,” Dalinar said. “You should visit the Frostlands in a season of winter.”
“You Alethi cannot understand cold. Your bones are frozen.”
Dalinar grunted his response, then leaned down over the map. I’ll need to approach from the south, march up along the lake’s coast.…
“The king is sending a message via spanreed,” Evi noted. “It’s being scribed now.”
Her accent is fading, Dalinar noticed absently. When she sat down in a chair by the fire, she supported herself with her right hand, safehand tucked demurely against her waist. She kept her blonde hair in Alethi braids, rather than letting it tumble about her shoulders.
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.