POV: kaladin
Summary
Kaladin stands outside the dueling arena with Sigzil and forty of his guards, the entire Kholin family inside or already on the stand: Dalinar, Navani, Elhokar, both princes, and now Amaram in his gold cloak as well. Sigzil is sure Amaram has no Surgebinding to back the public announcement — he would have shown it by now — and presses Kaladin to step forward in his own right, to let himself be the proof Dalinar cannot supply. Join. Under Amaram. Not a chance. Kaladin deploys his men to the rim, the doors, and inside the preparation rooms, and orders Moash aside.
Moash is to take a deep patrol toward New Natanan, starting tomorrow. Kaladin wants him out of the warcamps before the move against Graves's circle. Moash refuses, admits he has gone back to Graves once already — only to assure them Kaladin would come around — and is shouted into compliance only when Kaladin makes the order absolute. Syl drifts after Kaladin up the steps and tells him Amaram is ruining him; he grits his teeth and does not answer.
Under the seats, Adolin kneels beside his summoned Blade in the preparation room and tells it the only thing tradition demands he tell it: he vows to give a spectacle and finish by humbling Sadeas. Renarin waits in his Kholin uniform; Navani is opening a jar of glyphward paint when Adolin produces one already painted in Kholin blue for "excellence" by Shallan. The calligraphy is not bad. Adolin burns it in the brazier and reaches for his mother's chain in his pocket — and finds the pocket empty. A runner is dispatched to the warcamps; he will not be back in time. Navani reminds Adolin that the bout is to surrender, not to a counted number of broken sections of Plate: his opponents intend to leave him alive but crippled. He shrugs it off and submits to his armorers.
He walks out onto the sand. The darkeyes cheer, the lighteyes go softly silent. He warms his Plate under him, finds Shallan in the crowd opposite — red hair against grey stone, two of his bridgemen flanking her — and raises a fist to her. He plans for Relis first; Relis favours Vinestance and quick lunges. Then the door across from him opens.
Four men in Shardplate walk out. Relis in black. Elit back again, this time in the borrowed King's Plate with a great hammer rather than the Blade he lost. An orange figure who must be Abrobadar of Aladar's camp. And, in green Plate with the borrowed King's Blade at his shoulder, Adolin's own friend Jakamav. Bought.
On the stands Dalinar is on his feet shouting at Sadeas across the rows. Sadeas turns lazily with Ialai beside him and explains, lightly, that he knows nothing of any of those men, but does happen to recall that young Adolin worded his challenge to fight Relis and any others Relis brought, in front of scribes. No number was named. The judge questioned the wording and was satisfied. This is a full disadvantaged duel, and Relis may bring as many as he wishes. Dalinar growls like an animal on a chain and tells the king Adolin should forfeit immediately — six Shards is everything they own, and that is what surrender will cost. Down on the sand Adolin raises a hand. He agrees to fight.
He throws himself across the sand to the wall to keep from being surrounded, then realises Zahel's voice from the stands is shouting that he is not cornered, that they are afraid of him, that he should show them why. Adolin attacks. He shouts and beats on Relis in Windstance, cracks his vambrace, then spins on Elit and forces him to block with his forearm rather than be cut in two. He scores on Abrobadar until the orange Plate leaks Stormlight from the shoulder. He is the whitespine and they are men with spears. For a few breaths the four-on-one is something like an even fight.
Then Jakamav gets behind him. The smart green man does not even swing — he charges in head-down and breaks Adolin's stance. The others close. Elit's hammer caves his side. He says he yields. No one listens. He raises his hand for the judge — and someone slams the arm down. The trap closes around the realisation that the bout will not be ended; if he survives this he survives it as a cripple.
On the stand Dalinar demands Elhokar's Blade. Elhokar refuses with painful sense — by the time the Blackthorn finds Plate to wear, Adolin will be dead and the king's Blade lost to Sadeas too. Sadeas leans across the stand and remarks that the dueling conventions permit up to two helpers, and that the man Dalinar used to be would already be on the sand with a rock. Elhokar catches his arm — Sadeas is goading him onto the sand precisely so an "accident" can finish him. Dalinar holds. A murmur — and Renarin is already there, stepped out of the preparation room with a wobbling summoned Blade and no Plate, facing down Abrobadar alone.
Dalinar charges down to the highjudge's dais. Brightness Istow sits motionless and tells him plainly that her word is the only law in this arena, that the terms of the duel have not been met, and she will not end it. He turns instead on the watching lighteyes. Where is their honour? Is there no Shardbearer in those seats who will fight beside his sons? The king looks at his feet. Amaram looks away.
Beside Dalinar a soft voice answers. He turns and finds Captain Kaladin at his elbow, having come down the steps unnoticed. Kaladin replies that honour is gone but volunteers to try, asking Dalinar to look after his men if it goes badly. Spear in hand, he catches the edge of the wall and flings himself over into the arena.