“I could hit you in the head with a hammer,” Wit said happily. “A good bludgeoning would make you forget and do wonders for that face of yours.” “Wit,” Dalinar said flatly. “I’m only joking.” “Good.” “A hammer would hardly dent that thick skull of his.” Amaram turned to Wit, a look of bafflement on his face. “You’re very good at that expression,” Wit noted. “A great deal of practice, I assume?” “This is the new Wit?” Amaram asked. “I mean,” Wit said, “I wouldn’t want to call Amaram an imbecile . . .” Dalinar nodded. “. . . because then I’d have to explain to him what the word means, and I’m
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