During the ship’s time in port, the carpenters were doing as she’d asked. Yet there had been so many confused looks. And that same awful question.
“But why?”
Why not stay behind and let an underling do the in-person negotiations? She could negotiate via spanreed for the true contract. Why did she want a station up on the quarterdeck, rather than making the voyage comfortable in her cabin? Why ask about a pulley system to get herself up and down from the quarterdeck, when there were porters who could carry her?
Why, why, why? Why do you want to live, Rysn? Why do you want to better your situation? She scanned the drawings that Mura had sent her. It was a recent design, done by an ardent in Jah Keved, for a different kind of wheeled chair. Rysn used the common type, with small wheels on the rear legs. It needed a porter who could tip the chair back—like she was in a reverse wheelbarrow—and push her where she needed to go. The design had been used for centuries.
But here was something new. A chair with large wheels you could move yourself with your hands. She’d need to have one of these commissioned. It wouldn’t be of much use on a ship—and the streets of Thaylen City were probably too rough, with too many steps—but if only she could get from room to room in her own house, so many things would change.
She wrote a reply to Mura, then revisited her three possible trips, weighing them. A shipment of fish oil, some rugs, or some water barrels. All three were just so mundane. Her ship, the Wandersail, had been built for grander things. Granted, with the war, even simple trips were now dangerous. But she’d been trained by the best in the business to search for the opportunities no one else would take.
Search for the need, Vstim had always taught her. Don’t be a barnacle, simply leeching money where you can, Rysn. Find the unmet desire. . . .
She decided to start over, but was interrupted by a quiet knock at her outer door. She looked up with surprise; she’d not been expecting company. Nikli, after glancing for her approval, moved out into the antechamber to answer the knock.
A smiling man entered her office a second later. Rysn dropped her papers in shock.
The Reshi man had deep tan skin, with his hair in two long braids down over his shoulders. Talik wore a traditional Reshi wrap and tasseled overshirt, with his chest bare. She knew, from their two years of communication, that he generally wore one of several fine Thaylen suits when traveling. When he put on his traditional clothing, it was to deliberately remind people where he was from.
Seeing him left her speechless. He lived thousands of miles away from her. How was he here? She stammered, searching for what to say.
“Ah, so now that you’re a powerful ship owner,” he said, “you have no further words for one such as me? I guess I’ll be off then. . . .” He said it with a widening grin, however.
“Get in here and sit down,” she said, scooting down the table toward the far end, where it wasn’t so cluttered with papers. She waved for him to sit in a chair across the long table from her. “How on Roshar did you get here so quickly? I wrote to you only three days ago!”
“We were already in Azimir,” he explained, settling down. “The king wants to meet this Dalinar Kholin and see these Knights Radiant for himself.”
“The king left Relu-na?” Rysn asked. She felt her jaw drop.
“Strange times,” Talik said. “With nightmares walking the world, and the Vorin peoples uniting under one banner—an Alethi one no less—it was time.”
“They . . . We aren’t under an Alethi banner,” she said. “We are a united coalition. Here, let me pour you some tea.”
She took her grabbing stick and used it to hook the teapot by the handle to drag it across the table toward them. Talik—who had been so stern when they’d first met so long ago—leaped to his feet to help. He took the teapot and poured two cups.
She was grateful. And also frustrated. Not being able to walk was annoying, and that emotion people seemed to understand. But few understood the sense of embarrassment she felt—despite knowing she shouldn’t—at being a burden. While she appreciated the concern people showed for her, she worked so hard to be able to do things on her own. When people accidentally undercut that, it became more difficult to ignore the part of her that whispered lies. That told her that because she was less capable in a few areas, she was worthless in general.
She was doing better about that lately. She didn’t have shamespren hanging around these days. But she still wanted to find the right way to explain she wasn’t some child who needed to be coddled.
“Gods far and near,” Talik said as he handed her a cup, then sat back down. “I can’t believe how the time passes. It’s been . . . what, two years since you first visited us? Since your accident? Feels like only a few months ago.”
“Feels like an eternity for me,” Rysn said, sipping her tea and stretching her other hand out on the desk toward Chiri-Chiri. Normally, the larkin would hop over and sniff it when she did that. Today she barely stirred, letting out a soft chirp.
“I suppose we can catch up later,” Talik said. “For now, can I see her?”
Rysn nodded, setting aside the tea and scooting over to scoop up the larkin. Chiri-Chiri batted her wings a few times, then settled down. Rysn held her so Talik could see, after pulling his chair around the table to settle down next to her.
“I’ve shown her to many animal doctors,” Rysn said, “and they are baffled. Everyone thought the larkin were extinct, if they’d even heard of one before.”
Talik reached to carefully touch Chiri-Chiri along the top of her head. “So big . . .” he whispered. “I had not realized.”
“What do you mean?” Rysn asked.
“When Aimia fell,” he explained, “the Na-Alind—a family among the greatshelled gods of the Reshi—took in the last of the larkin. Greatshells do not think or speak like people do, and the ways of our gods are strange. But best we can tell, there was a promise among them. To protect these, their cousins.
“I have seen only two other larkin. They were both decades old, but were small, no longer than a person’s hand.”
“Chiri-Chiri likes to eat,” Rysn said. “A lot. At least she used to. . . .”
“In ancient times, larkin grew to larger sizes,” Talik said. “They’re supposed to remain small these days. Hidden. Lest men hunt them again.”
“But what do I do?” Rysn asked. “How do I help her?”
“When we received your letter three days ago,” Talik said, “I wrote to those on the island. The king’s consort approached Relu-na. The answer is simple, Rysn, but not easy. Not easy at all.”
“What?”
Talik met her eyes. “The island said to take her home.”
“To the Reshi Isles? I suppose I can go for a visit. How did you get through the occupied territory? The long way around to the east? We . . .” She trailed off, seeing his grim expression. “Oh. By her ‘home,’ you mean Aimia. Well, that’s not impossible. The Royal Navy has set up a few outposts on the main island.”
“Not the main island of Aimia, Rysn,” Talik said. “You need to take her to Akinah. The lost city.” He shook his head. “It is an impossible voyage. No one has stepped foot on the island in generations.”
Rysn frowned, stroking Chiri-Chiri and thinking. Akinah. Hadn’t she read that name recently? She gestured to Talik, then set Chiri-Chiri down and scooted back to her papers.
She found what she was looking for a few minutes later. “Here,” she said, holding it so he could lean down beside her and read. He didn’t ascribe to Vorin prohibitions on that. And, well, neither did Rysn, for all the fact that she wore a glove these days without complaint.
A ghost ship was discovered by a Thaylen military vessel some two months ago. Officials had traced it back to a voyage to the semi-mythical city of Akinah. The Queen of Urithiru, Navani Kholin, had put out a request for another ship to travel to Aimia and investigate a certain region. A strange storm where the ruins of Akinah were rumored to be found.
; Queen Navani promised a reward to those who were willing, but so far none had taken up the offer. Rysn looked to Talik, who nodded encouragingly.
It seemed that Rysn needed to pay a visit to Urithiru.
2
Rysn was met at Urithiru by a master-servant guide and four porters: an envoy from Brightness Navani, meant to show that Rysn was expected and her visit appreciated. The porters carried a single-person palanquin, which they set down. They inspected her wheeled chair.
“Brightness Rysn,” Nikli said from behind the chair, “prefers to use her own chair as transportation.”
While that was true, Nikli had—despite trying hard—gotten it wrong again. “I am honored by this envoy,” Rysn said. “Nikli, they know Urithiru far better than we do. Best if we let them carry me. I would appreciate it, however, if you brought the chair along in case it’s needed later.”
“Of course, Brightness,” he said, sounding embarrassed. She hated making the correction, but these men would consider it a personal duty to serve her. Rysn had learned that accepting hospitality was important for trade negotiations.
She had Nikli transfer her to the palanquin. Once in, she shoved down the feelings of insecurity and worthlessness that still cropped up whenever she was handled like a sack of lavis grain.
No feeling sorry for yourself, she thought forcefully. You filled your quota on that months ago.
Once she was settled, Nikli opened Chiri-Chiri’s basket so Rysn could scoop up the larkin and put her inside. Despite his occasional misstep, Nikli was doing a commendable job of anticipating her needs. He’d figure out the details as they spent more time together.
“Thank you, Nikli,” she said.
“We’ll be right behind, Brightness, if you need anything.”
The Alethi porters marched her down the Oathgate’s ramp, palanquin drapes open so she could survey the landscape. Urithiru—the mighty tower city of the Knights Radiant—had ten platforms out in front of it, each connected via Oathgate to a different city across the world. But the true marvel was the tower itself: built into the mountains, ten tiers reaching high toward the sun. They said it was nearly two hundred stories tall. How did the lower levels not collapse under the weight?
Curiously, not all of this city’s wonders were ancient. Rysn kept keen watch for the secret Alethi project Vstim had told her about. As she was carried onto the plateau that connected the ten Oathgate ramps, she spotted it. The plateau had sheer cliffs at both sides, where engineers were constructing two large wooden platforms.
Officially, it was said to be an enormous lift. Connected by conjoined fabrials in new ways devised by Navani Kholin, when one side lowered, the other rose. Rysn—privileged in her relationship to her babsk, who was Thaylen Minister of Trade—had heard extremely interesting talk of the hidden purpose behind these platforms.
If what she’d heard was true . . . If those fabrials could do what Queen Navani claimed they could . . .
Chiri-Chiri shifted in her arms, then peeked her sleek crustacean head out the window. She made an inquisitive clicking sound.
“You find it interesting?” Rysn said, hopeful.
Chiri-Chiri chirped.
“There are a lot of fabrials in this tower,” Rysn noted. “If you start eating them like you did last time, I’ll have to lock you away again. Fair warning.”
Rysn wasn’t certain how much Chiri-Chiri understood. The little creature did seem to be able to sense Rysn’s tone, and sometimes responded accordingly—depending on how mischievous she was feeling. Today she only nestled back down and returned to sleep. So lethargic. Rysn’s heart nearly broke.
To distract herself, Rysn set Chiri-Chiri on a pillow, then took notes on what she saw in Urithiru. Much was the same as her last visit: a wide variety of ethnicities mingling in the crowded hallways. Her master-servant guide answered questions and explained the architecture as they walked, eventually reaching the tower atrium with its enormous glass window displaying a frozen wasteland. Rysn couldn’t help wondering at the implications of this place. It wasn’t every day that a new kingdom was founded, let alone one in the mythical city of the Knights Radiant.
The palanquin was small enough to navigate through hallways, so it fit with her porters on one of the marvelous fabrial lifts in the atrium. Up she went, tens of stories. At the top, Rysn’s porters carried her into a small chamber where Navani Kholin—recently crowned queen of Urithiru—was taking meetings. She was an intimidating woman with her Alethi height, her black and grey hair done in intricate braids atop her head and woven with glowing sapphires.
Most of Rysn’s contemporaries entered a discussion asking, “What can I get from this?” Rysn had been disabused of that notion early in her training. Her babsk taught a different way of seeing the world, training her to ask, “What need can I fulfill?”
That was the true purpose of a merchant. To find complementary needs, then bridge the distance between them so everyone benefited. It wasn’t about what you could get from people, but what you could get for them that made a successful merchant.
And everyone had needs. Even queens.
The porters set Rysn down, and she left Chiri-Chiri in the palanquin, having Nikli transfer her to the chair before Navani’s desk. She preferred to use the seats offered her in these situations, though her wheeled chair was carefully stowed at the back of the room.
The porters and guide retreated, though Nikli remained right inside the door to wait upon her needs. A young woman stood at a writing desk nearby, recording minutes, and two guards watched the door. Aside from that, Rysn was virtually alone beneath the gaze of this incredibly regal woman.
It was a good thing Rysn had mostly gotten over her feelings of insecurity. Otherwise this might have been very intimidating, instead of only slightly so. Navani studied Rysn as if she were a schematic for a ship, seeming to read her very soul with those discerning eyes.
“So . . .” the queen said in Thaylen. “Who are you again?”
“Brightness?” Rysn said. “Er, I’m Rysn Ftori. Bah-Vstim? I came in response to your request?”
“Oh, right,” Navani said. “The ghost ship.” Navani held out her palm, and her assistant hurried over, handing her the appropriate notes. The queen stood and paced as she read through the notes while Rysn waited.
Finally the queen stopped, focused on the chair at the rear of the room, then pulled her chair over and sat before Rysn. It was a small gesture, but appreciated. Rysn didn’t mind when people remained standing in her presence, but there was a certain thoughtfulness in the way Navani situated herself so they could discuss at eye level with one another.
“Queen Fen says you have inspected the ship in person?” Navani said.
“Yes, Brightness,” Rysn said. “I visited it yesterday, after I decided to agree to your request. It was brought into port weeks ago, and has been undergoing repairs. I toured it to see if I could notice anything odd.”
Navani’s eyes flicked toward the wheeled chair.
“I was carried, Brightness,” Rysn said. “With my porters, I assure you I am quite mobile.”
“You know,” Navani said, “we have Radiants who specialize in something called Regrowth. . . .”
“My injury turned out to be too old for healing, Brightness,” Rysn said, her stomach twisting at the words. “I tried to avail myself of their abilities the moment I learned of them.”
“Of course,” Navani said. “I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologize for offering me aid, Brightness,” Rysn said. In fact, I’m glad you noticed. Because there’s something else you might do for me. But the time for negotiation had not yet arrived.
Rysn had a need. Several of them. Best to find out what Navani needed, and why, before they began the dance. “If we may return to the topic at hand, Your Majesty . . .”
“Yes,” Navani said. “This ship. So curious. Did you find anything interesting in your inspection?”
“Whoever set the ship adrift tried to scuttle
it,” Rysn said. “But they weren’t aware that modern Thaylen ships aren’t so easily sunk by a hole or two in the hull. It’s obvious foul play, Brightness. The logbooks were taken.”
“Blood on the deck?” Navani asked.
“None we could find, Brightness.”
“And . . . the missing Soulcaster?” Navani asked.
Rysn had only just been told this particular piece of intelligence: the ghost ship, First Dreams, had carried a rogue Soulcaster as a passenger. Not a Knight Radiant, but a woman trained in the use of one of the ancient devices that could transform things from one material to another.
“We didn’t find the Soulcaster,” Rysn said. “Neither the woman nor the device. It seems likely that someone knew the ship was carrying this runaway, and then attacked it, murdering the crew to get the Soulcaster.”
The devices were rare and extremely powerful. Most kingdoms had access to only a handful of Soulcasters—if any at all. Many people in Thaylenah thought the Alethi’s wartime prowess was due less to superior troops, and more to the number of Soulcasters they had feeding said troops.
It wasn’t the kind of thing one pointed out to one’s allies. Particularly not while in a joint large-scale war against ancient monsters from the Void.
“Yes . . . perhaps,” Navani said, rolling her notes and tapping them softly against her other hand. “I have spoken to the prince of Liafor, who says the Soulcaster thought that Aimia—as the ancient home of Soulcasters—might contain secrets to healing her afflictions. More, the ship’s captain—a man named Vazrmeb—was infatuated with the legendary riches of Akinah, the lost capital of Aimia.”
Curious. That was more than Vstim knew. The queen appeared as resourceful as her reputation implied.
“Aimia is barren,” Rysn said carefully. “It’s been thoroughly scouted, and hundreds of captains—with stars in their eyes—have tried finding mysterious fortunes on the island. They’ve all returned empty-handed.”
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