“No, I haven’t,” Kaladin said.

“New technology,” Renarin said, still playing with his little metal box. “My aunt built that one herself. Every time I turn around, it seems the world has changed somehow.”

Kaladin grunted. I know how that feels. Part of him yearned to suck in the Light of that gemstone. A foolish move. There’d be enough in there to make him glow like a bonfire. He lowered his hands and strolled past Adolin’s chair.

The sketches in Adolin’s book were of men in fine clothing. The drawings were quite good, their faces done in as much detail as their garments.

“Fashion?” Kaladin asked. He hadn’t intended to speak, but it came out anyway. “You’re spending the highstorm looking for new clothing?”

Adolin snapped the book closed.

“But you only wear uniforms,” Kaladin said, confused.

“Do you need to be here, bridgeboy?” Adolin demanded. “Surely nobody is going to come for us during a highstorm, of all things.”

“The fact that you assume that,” Kaladin said, “is why I need to be here. What better time would there be for an assassination attempt? The winds would cover shouts, and help would be slow in coming when everyone has taken cover to wait out the storm. Seems to me this is one of the times when His Majesty most needs guards.”

The king stopped pacing and pointed. “That makes sense. Why hasn’t anyone else ever explained that to me?” He looked at Idrin, who remained stoic.

Adolin sighed. “You could at least leave Renarin and me out of it,” he said softly to Kaladin.

“It’s easier to protect you when you’re all together, Brightlord,” Kaladin said, walking away. “Plus, you can defend each other.”

Dalinar had been intending to stay with Navani during the storm anyway. Kaladin approached the window again, listening to the storm pass outside. Had he really seen the things he thought he had during his time out in the storm? A face as vast as the sky? The Stormfather himself?

I am a god, Syl had said. A little piece of one.

Eventually, the storm passed, and Kaladin opened the window to a black sky, a few phantom clouds shining with Nomon’s light. The storm had started a few hours into the night, but nobody could sleep during a storm. He hated when a highstorm came so late; he often felt exhausted the next day.

The side room door opened and Dalinar stepped out, trailed by Navani. The statuesque woman carried a large notebook. Kaladin had heard, of course, about the highprince’s fits during storms. His men were divided on the topic. Some thought Dalinar was frightened of highstorms, and his terror sent him into convulsions. Others whispered that with age, the Blackthorn was losing his mind.

Kaladin badly wanted to know which it was. His fate, and that of his men, was tied to this man’s health.

“Numbers, sir?” Kaladin asked, peeking into the room, looking at the walls.

“No,” Dalinar said.

“Sometimes they come just after the storm,” Kaladin said. “I have men in the hall outside. I would prefer if everyone remained here for a short time.”

Dalinar nodded. “As you wish, soldier.”

Kaladin walked to the exit. Beyond, some men of Bridge Four and of the King’s Guard stood on watch. Kaladin nodded to Leyten, then pointed for them to watch out on the balcony. Kaladin would catch the phantom scratching those numbers. If, indeed, such a person existed.

Behind, Renarin and Adolin approached their father. “Anything new?” Renarin asked softly.

“No,” Dalinar said. “The vision was a repeat. But they’re not coming in the same order as last time, and some are new, so perhaps there is something to learn we have not yet discovered . . .” Noticing Kaladin, he trailed off, then changed the topic. “Well, as long as we’re waiting here, perhaps I can get an update. Adolin, when can we expect more duels?”

“I’m trying,” Adolin said with a grimace. “I thought beating Salinor would drive others to want to try me, but they’re stalling instead.”

“Problematic,” Navani said. “Weren’t you always saying that everyone wanted to duel you?”

“They did!” Adolin said. “When I couldn’t duel, at least. Now, every time I make an offer, people start shuffling their feet and looking away.”

“Have you tried anyone in Sadeas’s camp?” the king asked eagerly.

“No,” Adolin said. “But he’s only got one Shardbearer other than himself. Amaram.”

Kaladin felt a shiver.

“Well, you won’t be dueling him,” Dalinar said, chuckling. He sat down on the couch, Brightness Navani settling in beside him, hand fondly on his knee. “We might have him on our side. I’ve been speaking to Highlord Amaram . . .”

“You think you can get him to secede?” the king asked.

“Is that possible?” Kaladin asked, surprised.

The lighteyes turned to him. Navani blinked, as if noticing him for the first time.

“Yes, it is possible,” Dalinar said. “Most of the territory that Amaram oversees would remain with Sadeas, but he could bring his personal land to my princedom—along with his Shards. Usually it requires a land trade with a princedom bordering the one a highlord wishes to join.”

“It hasn’t happened in over a decade,” Adolin said, shaking his head.

“I’m working on him,” Dalinar said. “But Amaram . . . he wants to bring Sadeas and me together instead. He thinks we can get along again.”

Adolin snorted. “That possibility blew away the day Sadeas betrayed us.”

“Probably long before that day,” Dalinar said, “even if I didn’t see it. Is there anyone else you could challenge, Adolin?”

“I’m going to try Talanor,” Adolin said, “and then Kalishor.”

“Neither full Shardbearers,” Navani said with a frown. “The first has only the Blade, the second only the Plate.”

“All of the full Shardbearers have refused me,” Adolin said with a shrug. “Those two are eager, thirsty for notoriety. One of them might agree where others haven’t.”

Kaladin folded his arms, leaning back against the wall. “And if you defeat them, won’t it scare off others from fighting you?”

“When I beat them,” Adolin said, glancing at Kaladin’s relaxed posture and frowning, “Father will maneuver others into agreeing to duels.”

“But it will have to stop sometime, right?” Kaladin asked. “Eventually the other highprinces will realize what’s happening. They’ll refuse to be goaded into further duels. It might be happening already. That’s why they don’t accept.”

“Someone will,” Adolin said, standing. “And once I start winning, others will begin to see me as a real challenge. They’ll want to test themselves.”

That seemed optimistic to Kaladin.

“Captain Kaladin is right,” Dalinar said.

Adolin turned toward his father.

“There’s no need to fight every Shardbearer in camp,” Dalinar said softly. “We need to narrow our attack, choose duels for you that point us toward the ultimate goal.”

“Which is?” Adolin asked.

“Undermining Sadeas.” Dalinar almost sounded regretful. “Killing him in a duel, if we have to. Everyone in camp knows the sides in this power struggle. This won’t work if we punish everyone equally. We need to show those in the middle, those deciding whom to follow, the advantages of trust. Cooperation on plateau runs. Help from one another’s Shardbearers. We show them what it’s like to be part of a real kingdom.”

The others grew quiet. The king turned away with a shake of his head. He didn’t believe, at least not fully, in what Dalinar wished to achieve.

Kaladin found himself annoyed. Why should he be? Dalinar had agreed with him. He stewed for a moment, and realized that he was probably still upset because someone had mentioned Amaram.

Even hearing the man’s name put Kaladin out of sorts. He kept thinking something should happen, something should change, now that such a murderer was in camp. Yet everything just kept on going. It was frustrating. Made him want to lash out.

He needed to do something about it.

“I assume we’ve waited long enough?” Adolin said to his father. “I can go?”

Dalinar sighed, nodding. Adolin pulled open the door and strode away; Renarin followed at a slower pace, hauling that Shardblade he was still bonding, sheathed in its protective strips. As they passed the group of guards Kaladin had put outside, Skar and three others broke off to follow them.

Kaladin walked to the door, doing a quick count of who was left. Four men total. “Moash,” Kaladin said, noticing the man yawning. “How long have you been on duty today?”

Moash shrugged. “One shift guarding Brightness Navani. One shift with the King’s Guard.”

I’m working them too hard, Kaladin thought. Stormfather. I don’t have enough men. Even with the leftover Cobalt Guard that Dalinar is sending to me. “Head back and get some sleep,” Kaladin said. “You too, Bisig. I saw you on shift this morning.”

“And you?” Moash asked Kaladin.

“I’m fine.” He had Stormlight to keep him alert. True, using Stormlight that way could be dangerous—it provoked him to act, to be more impulsive. He wasn’t sure he liked what it did to him when he used it outside of battle.

Moash raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got to be at least as tired as I am, Kal.”

“I’ll go back in a bit,” Kaladin said. “You need some time off, Moash. You’ll get sloppy if you don’t take it.”

“I have to pull two shifts,” Moash said, shrugging. “At least, if you want me to train with the King’s Guard as well as doing my regular guard duty.”

Kaladin drew his lips to a line. That was important. Moash needed to think like a bodyguard, and there was no better way than serving on an already-established crew.

“My shift here with the King’s Guard is almost over,” Moash noted. “I’ll head back after.”

“Fine,” Kaladin said. “Keep Leyten with you. Natam, you and Mart guard Brightness Navani. I’ll see Dalinar back to camp and post guards at his door.”

“Then you’ll get some sleep?” Moash asked. The others glanced at Kaladin. They were worried as well.

“Yes, fine.” Kaladin turned back to the room, where Dalinar was helping Navani to her feet. He’d walk her to her door, as he did most evenings.

Kaladin debated for a moment, then stepped up to the highprince. “Sir, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Can it wait until I’m done here?” Dalinar said.

“Yes, sir,” Kaladin said. “I’ll wait at the palace’s front doors, then will be your guard on the way back to camp.”