“Disappointing. I’m proving far worse at diplomacy than I once was at war-making.”
“There’s no profit in peace.”
“That’s what everyone says. But we had peace once, and seemed to do just fine. Better, even.”
“There hasn’t been peace since the Tranquiline Halls,” Adolin said immediately. “‘Man’s life on Roshar is conflict.’” It was a quotation from The Arguments.
Dalinar turned to Adolin, looking amused. “Quoting scripture at me? You?”
Adolin shrugged, feeling foolish. “Well, you see, Malasha is rather religious, and so earlier today I was listening to—”
“Wait,” Dalinar said. “Malasha? Who’s that?”
“Daughter of Brightlord Seveks.”
“And that other girl, Janala?”
Adolin grimaced, thinking back to the disastrous walk they’d gone on the other day. Several nice gifts had yet to repair that. She didn’t seem half as excited about him now that he wasn’t courting someone else. “Things are rocky. Malasha seems like a better prospect.” He moved on quickly. “I take it that Roion won’t soon be going on any plateau assault with us.”
Dalinar shook his head. “He’s too afraid that I’m trying to maneuver him into a position where I can seize his lands. Perhaps it was wrong to approach the weakest highprince first. He’d rather hunker down and try to weather what comes at him, holding what he has, as opposed to making a risky play for something greater.”
Dalinar stared at the map, looking distant again. “Gavilar dreamed of unifying Alethkar. Once I thought he’d achieved it, despite what he claimed. The longer I work with these men, the more I realize that Gavilar was right. We failed. We defeated these men, but we never unified them.”
“So you still intend to approach the others?”
“I do. I only need one to say yes in order to start. Who do you think we should go to next?”
“I’m not sure,” Adolin said. “But for now, I think you should know something. Sadeas has sent to us, asking permission to enter our warcamp. He wants to interview the grooms who cared for His Majesty’s horse during the hunt.”
“His new position gives him the right to make those kinds of demands.”
“Father,” Adolin said, stepping closer, speaking softly. “I think he’s going to move against us.”
Dalinar looked at him.
“I know you trust him,” Adolin said quickly. “And I understand your reasons now. But listen to me. This move puts him in an ideal position to undermine us. The king has grown paranoid enough that he’s suspicious even of you and me—I know you’ve seen it. All Sadeas needs to do is find imaginary ‘evidence’ linking us to an attempt to kill the king, and he’ll be able be able to turn Elhokar against us.”
“We may have to risk that.”
Adolin frowned. “But—”
“I trust Sadeas, son,” Dalinar said. “But even if I didn’t, we couldn’t forbid him entry or block his investigation. We’d not only look guilty in the king’s eyes, but we’d be denying his authority as well.” He shook his head. “If I ever want the other highprinces to accept me as their leader in war, I have to be willing to allow Sadeas his authority as Highprince of Information. I can’t rely upon the old traditions for my authority yet deny Sadeas the same right.”
“I suppose,” Adolin admitted. “But we could still prepare. You can’t tell me you’re not a little worried.”
Dalinar hesitated. “Perhaps. This maneuver of Sadeas’s is aggressive. But I’ve been told what to do. ‘Trust Sadeas. Be strong. Act with honor, and honor will aid you.’ That is the advice I’ve been given.”
“From where?”
Dalinar looked to him, and it became obvious to Adolin.
“So we’re betting the future of our house on these visions now,” Adolin said flatly.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Dalinar replied. “If Sadeas did move against us, I wouldn’t simply let him shove us over. But I’m also not going to make the first move against him.”
“Because of what you’ve seen,” Adolin said, growing frustrated. “Father, you said you’d listen to what I had to say about the visions. Well, please listen now.”
“This isn’t the proper place.”
“You always have an excuse,” Adolin said. “I’ve tried to approach you about it five times now, and you always rebuff me!”
“Perhaps it’s because I know what you’ll say,” Dalinar said. “And I know it won’t do any good.”
“Or perhaps it’s because you don’t want to be confronted by the truth.”
“That’s enough, Adolin.”
“No, no it’s not! We’re mocked in every one of the warcamps, our authority and reputation diminishes by the day, and you refuse to do anything substantial about it!”
“Adolin. I will not take this from my son.”
“But you’ll take it from everyone else? Why is that, Father? When others say things about us, you let them. But when Renarin or I take the smallest step toward what you view as being inappropriate, we’re immediately chastised! Everyone else can speak lies, but I can’t speak the truth? Do your sons mean so little to you?”
Dalinar froze, looking as if he’d been slapped.
“You aren’t well, Father,” Adolin continued. Part of him realized that he had gone too far, that he was speaking too loudly, but it boiled out anyway. “We need to stop tiptoeing around it! You need to stop making up increasingly irrational explanations to reason away your lapses! I know it’s hard to accept, but sometimes, people get old. Sometimes, the mind stops working right.
“I don’t know what’s wrong. Maybe it’s your guilt over Gavilar’s death. That book, the Codes, the visions—maybe they’re all attempts to find escape, find redemption, something. What you see is not real. Your life now is a rationalization, a way of trying to pretend that what’s happening isn’t happening. But I’ll go to Damnation itself before I’ll let you drag the entire house down without speaking my mind on it!”
He practically shouted those last words. They echoed in the large chamber, and Adolin realized he was shaking. He had never, in all his years of life, spoken to his father in such a way.
“You think I haven’t wondered these things?” Dalinar said, his voice cold, his eyes hard. “I’ve gone through each point you’ve made a dozen times over.”
“Then maybe you should go over them a few more.”
“I must trust myself. The visions are trying to show me something important. I cannot prove it or explain how I know. But it’s true.”
“Of course you think that,” Adolin said, exasperated. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly what you would feel. Men are very good at seeing what they want to! Look at the king. He sees a killer in every shadow, and a worn strap becomes a convoluted plot to take his life.”
Dalinar fell silent again.
“Sometimes, the simple answers are the right ones, Father!” Adolin said. “The king’s strap just wore out. And you…you’re seeing things that aren’t there. I’m sorry.”