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“Highprince Torol Sadeas, sir,” the woman said. “He’s been murdered.”
FINALLY
Maybe when Brightlord Brooding-Eyes returned, he could fly her to another peak along the mountain chain.
😂
“Claims he’s an aspect of the Almighty.” Shallan sniffed as she slipped into the seat beside Adolin, setting her satchel and drawing pad on the floor. “Aspect of the Almighty? At least he’s humble.”
To survive in Alethkar, you had to find shelter from the storms. A wide cleft like this one was perfect for a city. But how did you protect it? Any attacking enemy would have the high ground. Many cities walked a risky line between security from storms and security from men.
Dalinar hated turning knowledge into bargaining chips, but what if this was why he’d always failed in his negotiations with the highprinces? He wanted to be honest, straightforward, and let the pieces fall where they may. But it seemed that someone better at the game—and more willing to break the rules—always snatched the pieces from the air as he dropped them, then set them down the way they wanted.
“Oh, stand up,” Dalinar said, grabbing him by the arm and hauling him to his feet. “Don’t be dramatic. If you really want to swear this oath, I’ll let you. But let’s not pretend you can sweep into a room, shout a few words, and assume it’s a legal contract.” Elhokar pulled his arm free and rubbed it. “Won’t even let me abdicate with dignity.”
“It wasn’t a lecture, it was a creative application of my tongue to keep you distracted.”
“What,” Pattern said with a hum, “is a chaperone?” “That is someone who watches two young people when they are together, to make certain they don’t do anything inappropriate.” “Inappropriate?” Pattern said. “Such as … dividing by zero?”
The trick to happiness wasn’t in freezing every momentary pleasure and clinging to each one, but in ensuring one’s life would produce many future moments to anticipate.
He leaned down. His breath smelled of spices, his uniform of the crisp, clean starch Dalinar required. His lips touched hers, and her heart fluttered. So warm. “No mating!” She started, pulling out of the kiss to find Pattern hovering beside them, pulsing quickly through shapes.
“Of course it is!” Adolin said, letting go of her. “But, I mean, you’re a woman.” “Was it the makeup that tipped you off, or the dress? Oh, it was the breasts, wasn’t it? Always giving us away.”
“Yes. I remember when you first got your Blade. The world itself trembled on that day, Dalinar Kholin.” “Don’t be melodramatic,” Dalinar said. “I was merely one in a long line of idiots given the ability to kill people too easily.”
“You got that through marriage, and to a lighteyes from Rira, not Iri. Yes, the Iriali claim their sister nation as a vassal, but even if the claim weren’t disputed, the queen doesn’t have any actual relation to Evi or her brother.”
IS THAT HIS WIFE’S NAME
“Middle ground only comes in war after lots of people have died—and only after the important people are worried they might actually lose.
“Shallan?” Adolin said. “Are you decent?” “Depends,” she said, voice croaking, “on the context. I’m decent at sleeping.”
“So it’s our fault.” “Yes. Like everything else. War. Famine. Bad hair.” “Wait. Bad hair?” Shallan blew a lock of it out of her eyes. “Loud. Stubborn. Oblivious to our attempts to fix it. The Almighty gave us messy hair to prepare us for living with men.”
“Talking to you can be weird sometimes.”
This was something she shared with her daughter, a characteristic frustration with problems she couldn’t solve. As if she were disappointed in the facts for not arranging themselves more helpfully.
He was not a man. He was judgment.
Well, it might make you feel better about your past, but morality is not a thing you can simply doff to put on the helm of battle, then put back on when you’re done with the slaughter.”
“Is it not our duty, as kings, to ask questions that make the minds and souls of other men cringe?”
“But sometimes a hypocrite is nothing more than a person who is in the process of changing.”
‘Plan every battle as if you will inevitably retreat, but fight every battle like there is no backing down.’
If they cannot make you less foolish, at least let them give you hope. —From Oathbringer, preface
Would you defend them, after what they did to you?” “They’re my people.” “That’s no excuse. If one of ‘your people’ murders another, don’t you put them in prison? What is a just punishment for enslaving my entire race?”
Adolin searched for words as voices approached, and several other people stepped into the room. At their head was Jasnah Kholin.
I knew Jasnah couldn’t be dead!!!
“I won’t forbid you from expressing your morals—I’d encourage it. Just don’t present your beliefs as our code. Present them as yours, and make a good argument. Maybe the men will listen.”
“I can’t afford to stay my hand from war,” Dalinar said. “Everything you say is right, but it is also nothing new. I have never gone to battle where some poor fools on either side—men who didn’t want to be there in the first place—weren’t going to bear the brunt of the pain.” “Maybe,” Kaladin said, “that should make you reconsider those other wars, rather than using them to justify this one.”
“A fine depiction of the young captain,” Jasnah said. “I see … three lines of notes here? After you were pointedly instructed to take the minutes.” “We should have sent for a scribe.” “We had a scribe. To take notes is not a lowly task, Shallan. It is a service you can provide.” “If it’s not a lowly task,” Shallan said, “then perhaps you should have done it.”
“I didn’t expect you to be so old,” the girl said. She sat perched cross-legged on a large boulder nearby. “And you’re not really that black. They call you Blackthorn, but you’re really more like … Dark-tan-thorn. Gawx is more black than you are, and even he’s pretty brownish.” The young emperor, remarkably, burst into an enormous grin. “Lift! You’re back!” He started climbing up the boulder, heedless of decorum.
“Even Rock beat your time, and he was skipping like a girl the last third.” “Was Horneater dance of victory,” Rock said from near Leyten. “Is very manly.”
“But if you leave, you don’t get to complain. As long as you keep trying, there’s a chance. When you give up? That’s when the dream dies.”
“Words are important,” Gavilar said. “Much more than you give them credit for being.” “Perhaps,” Dalinar said. “But if they were all-powerful, you wouldn’t need my sword, would you?” “Perhaps. I can’t help feeling words would be enough, if only I knew the right ones to say.”
“Jasnah,” he said when he drew close. “I was told I could find you here.” “Remind me to find whoever told you,” Jasnah said, “and have them hanged.”
If this is to be permanent, then I wish to leave record of my husband and children. Wzmal, as good a man as any woman could dream of loving. Kmakra and Molinar, the true gemstones of my life. —From drawer 12-15, ruby
I worry about my fellow Truthwatchers. —From drawer 8-21, second emerald
He looked like the kind of old rogue you’d find in a pub, with handy tales about the brilliant things he’d done in his youth. The kind of man that made women think they preferred older men, when in reality they just preferred him.
I wish to submit my formal protest at the idea of abandoning the tower. This is an extreme step, taken brashly. —From drawer 2-22, smokestone
It was gratifying to see how much one could accomplish in both politics and trade by liberally murdering the other fellow’s soldiers.
A day after being murdered in a brutal fashion, Shallan found that she was feeling much better.
“Come. You look like you could use the opportunity to buy me something to eat.”
“Heavens no,” Wit said. “I’m not stupid enough to get mixed up in religion again. The last seven times I tried it were all disasters. I believe there’s at least one god still worshipping me by accident.”
‘Old’ is a word you use for worn shoes. I’m something else entirely.”
“Someone offed old Sadeas, and I missed it?” “What would you have done? Helped him?” “Storms, no. I’d have applauded.”
There are two kinds of important men, Shallan. There are those who, when the boulder of time rolls toward them, stand up in front of it and hold out their hands. All their lives, they’ve been told how great they are. They assume the world itself will bend to their whims as their nurse did when fetching them a fresh cup of milk. “Those men end up squished. “Other men stand to the side when the boulder of time passes, but are quick to say, ‘See what I did! I made the boulder roll there. Don’t make me do it again!’ “These men end up getting everyone else squished.” “Is there not a third type of
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Having power is a terrible burden, the worst thing imaginable, except for every other alternative.”
You need anything, Skar?” “The head of my enemy, fashioned into a tankard for drinking,” Skar said. “Barring that, I’ll take a pastry or seven.”
That wasn’t so uncommon a feeling for him. He felt good lots of days. Trouble was, on the bad days, that was hard to remember. At those times, for some reason, he felt like he had always been in darkness, and always would be. Why was it so hard to remember? Did he have to keep slipping back down? Why couldn’t he stay up here in the sunlight, where everyone else lived?
“I intend to so thoroughly ruin this place that for ten generations, nobody will dare build here for fear of the spirits who will haunt it. We will make a pyre of this city, and there shall be no weeping for its passing, for none will remain to weep.”
You tried to help the people of the market. You mostly failed. This is life. The longer you live, the more you fail. Failure is the mark of a life well lived. In turn, the only way to live without failure is to be of no use to anyone. Trust me, I’ve practiced.”
