Words of Radiance

I wonder if I could survive that fall… He’d dropped half that once before, filled with Stormlight, and had landed without trouble. He stepped back for Moash’s sake, though even before gaining his special abilities, heights had fascinated him. It felt liberating to be up so high. Just you and the air itself.

He knelt down, looking at the places where the footings of the iron railing had been mortared into holes in the stone. “The railing pulled free of its mountings?” he asked, poking his finger into a hole, then pulling it out with mortar dust on his fingers.

“Yeah,” Moash said, several of the men of the king’s guard nodding.

“Could just be a flaw in the design,” Kaladin said.

“Captain,” said one of the guardsmen. “I was here when it happened, watching him on the balcony. It fell right out. Barely a sound. I was standing here, looking out at the Plains and thinking to myself, and next I knew His Majesty was hanging right there, holding on for his life and cursing like a caravan worker.” The guard blushed. “Sir.”

Kaladin stood, inspecting the metalwork. So the king had leaned against this section of the railing, and it had bent forward—the mountings at the bottom giving way. It had almost come free completely, but fortunately one bar had held tight. The king had grabbed hold and clung to it long enough to be rescued.

This should never have been possible. The thing looked as if it had been constructed of wood and rope first, then Soulcast into iron. Shaking another section, he found it incredibly secure. Even a few footings giving out shouldn’t have let the whole thing fall off—the metal pieces would have had to come apart.

He moved to the right, inspecting some of those that had ripped free of one another. The two pieces of metal had been sheared at a joint. Smoothly, cleanly.

The doorway into the king’s chamber darkened as Dalinar Kholin stepped out onto the balcony. “In,” he said to Moash and the other guards. “Close the door. I’d like to speak to Captain Kaladin.”

They obeyed, though Moash went reluctantly. Dalinar walked up to Kaladin as the windows closed, giving them privacy. Despite his age, the highprince’s figure was an intimidating one, wide shouldered, built like a brick wall.

“Sir,” Kaladin said. “I should have—”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Dalinar said. “The king wasn’t under your care. Even if he was, I wouldn’t reprimand you—just as I won’t reprimand Idrin. I wouldn’t expect bodyguards to inspect architecture.”

“Yes, sir,” Kaladin said.

Dalinar knelt down to inspect the mountings. “You like to take responsibility for things, don’t you? A commendable attribute in an officer.” Dalinar rose and looked at the place where the rail had been cut. “What is your assessment?”

“Someone definitely chipped at the mortar,” Kaladin said, “and sabotaged the railing.”

Dalinar nodded. “I agree. This was a deliberate attempt on the king’s life.”

“However… sir…”

“Yes?”

“Whoever tried this is an idiot.”

Dalinar looked to him, raising an eyebrow in the lantern light.

“How could they know where the king would lean?” Kaladin said. “Or even that he would? This trap could easily have caught someone else, and then the would-be assassins would have exposed themselves for nothing. In fact, that is what happened. The king survived, and now we’re aware of them.”

“We’ve been expecting assassins,” Dalinar said. “And not just because of the incident with the king’s armor. Half the powerful men in this camp are probably contemplating some kind of assassination attempt, so an attempt on Elhokar’s life doesn’t tell us as much as you’d think. As to how they knew to catch him here, he has a favorite spot for standing, leaning against the rail and looking out over the Shattered Plains. Anyone who watches his patterns would have known where to apply their sabotage.”

“But sir,” Kaladin said, “it’s just so convoluted. If they have access to the king’s private chambers, then why not hide an assassin inside? Or use poison?”

“Poison is as unlikely to work as this was,” Dalinar said, waving toward the railing. “The king’s food and drink is tasted. As for a hidden assassin, one might run into guards.” He stood up. “But I agree that such methods would probably have had a greater chance at success. The fact that they didn’t try it that way tells us something. Assuming these are the same people who planted those flawed gemstones in the king’s armor, they prefer nonconfrontational methods. It’s not that they’re idiots, they’re…”

“They’re cowards,” Kaladin realized. “They want to make the assassination look like an accident. They’re timid. They may have waited this long so that suspicion would die down.”

“Yes,” Dalinar said, rising, looking troubled.

“This time, though, they made a big mistake.”

“How?”

Kaladin walked to the cut section he had inspected earlier and knelt down to rub the smooth section. “What cuts iron so cleanly?”