Dawnshard Page 10

  “Nah,” Lopen said. “Why?”

  “Because that sounded almost like you were espousing—”

  “Espousing?” he said. “I’m not married, sella. I suspect the ladies think there is too much Lopen—by at least one arm at this point, sure—for them to hold.”

  “Never mind,” Rushu said. “Rysn, I should explain better. I apologize for that as well. You see, I discovered something alarming today.”

  “When we saw the santhid?” Rysn asked.

  “Hmmm? Oh, no. I was napping during that. No, those two Windrunners were playing with my spanreeds this morning.”

  “Correction,” Lopen said. “Huio was playing with them. I was being a responsible cousin and making fun of him for doing so.”

  “Right,” Rushu said. “So Huio is solely to blame for this genius discovery, then.”

  “He exactly is . . .” Lopen paused. “Genius?”

  “Genius?” Huio asked.

  “He left a bit of foiled aluminum in the mechanism,” Rushu said. “And it is interfering with the conjoined rubies in a fascinating way.” She scooted back from Rysn’s chair, then stood up and waved into the distance.

  Rysn’s chair shook.

  “Oh!” Rushu said. “This is another part I should have explained first, isn’t it? Navani would be so upset with me. The rubies are connected to a chain and anchor—not the main anchor, don’t panic! We don’t want to send you into the stratosphere. Look over there, at that tree. See it? I had the sailors bring out one of the smaller anchors and tie it to ropes hung from branches.”

  In the distance, a sailor waved toward them. Rysn could make out a small anchor hanging from the tree nearby. Rushu pointed up into the air, and the sailors did something with the rope—

  Rysn’s chair lurched into the air about two feet. She cried out, grabbing the armrests. Chiri-Chiri finally woke up on the stone nearby, raising her head and chirping.

  “It feels unsteady,” Rysn said. “Should it wobble like this?”

  “No,” Rushu said, but she was grinning. “Huio, do you realize what you have done?”

  “Make . . . wobbles?” he said. Then his eyes opened wide. “It wobbles! Wobbles—side-to-side!” He let out an exclamation in Herdazian that Rysn didn’t understand, then grabbed Rushu’s hand, barely able to contain his excitement.

  Lopen folded his arms as he sat. “Will someone please explain how these wobbles are so entrancing?” He gyrated his hips. “They do look fun, mind you. The Lopen approves of wobbling.”

  “If I may touch your chair, Brightness?” Rushu asked. “And nudge you to the side?”

  “Go ahead,” Rysn said.

  Rushu gently pushed Rysn’s chair—and it moved. She drifted a few feet to the side.

  “This is supposed to be impossible!” Rysn said. “You said—”

  “Yes,” Rushu said. “Conjoined rubies are supposed to match each other’s movement exactly. To move you two feet to the left, we should be required to move that anchor two feet to the right—which we aren’t doing.”

  Rysn hovered there, trying to figure out the implications.

  Huio said something in Herdazian and put a hand to his head, and two awespren in a row burst behind him. “It changes . . . all things.”

  “Well, maybe not all things,” Rushu said. “But yes. This is important. Rysn, the aluminum is interfering with the mechanism, making the conjoinment uneven. The paired rubies still transfer vertical movement, but not lateral movement. So you will go up and down with the motion of the anchor, but then can move laterally in any direction you want.”

  “I need a pole,” Rysn said, waving. “To see if I can do it on my own.”

  The Lopen found a branch for her from among some fallen limbs nearby. She used it to steady herself, then—biting her lip—she heaved against the rocks.

  It worked. She soared a few feet through the air, as if she were gliding across water in her own personal gondola. She had to stop with the branch, because once she got going, there wasn’t a lot to slow her except air resistance.

  She tried to turn the chair around, but it resisted spinning. She was able to manage it only with some effort, then she poled back near her original spot.

  “Hmmm,” Rushu said. “You had to turn the anchor to spin. The mechanism must still have rotation conjoined; perhaps by experimenting with the aluminum we can fix that. At any rate, this is an amazing development.”

  “You’re saying,” the Lopen said, standing, “that by breaking your fabrial, Huio fixed it also?”

  “More science happens through lucky accidents than you’d believe, Radiant Lopen,” Rushu said. “It makes me wonder how many amazing innovations we’ve passed up because we were searching for something else, and didn’t realize what we’d done.

  “There’s a chance I wouldn’t have understood the value in what Radiant Huio did if I hadn’t been thinking specifically about Brightness Rysn’s chair. As it was, when he brought me the broken spanreed, it was curiosity about her predicament that made me . . . Brightness? Are you well?”

  They both looked to Rysn, who had been struggling to keep her composure as they chatted. She finally failed, and the tears started flowing. Chiri-Chiri chirped and leaped up, flapping her wings to help her get high enough to grab the chair with her mouth. Rysn scooped her up with one arm, holding to the branch with the other.

  “I am well,” she said with as much dignity as she could manage through the tears and the joyspren. “I just . . .” How could she explain? She’d tasted freedom, something forbidden her for two years. Everyone else pranced around without ever having to worry they were a burden to others. Never remaining in the same place—when they longed to move around—because they didn’t want to be a bother. They didn’t know what they had. But Rysn knew exactly what she’d lost.

  “Hey,” Lopen said, taking the arm of the chair to steady it. “Feels good, I bet. You deserve this, gancha.”

  “How can you know that?” Rysn said. “We’ve known each other for only a few weeks.”

  “I’m a good judge of character,” Lopen said, with a grin. “Besides. Everyone deserves this.” He nodded to her, and a little windspren—in the shape of a one-armed youth—wandered through the air over to Lopen. Or . . . no, it wasn’t a windspren. Something else.

  A Radiant spren. It was the first time one had appeared to her, and this one bowed in a very official-seeming way. Then he broke into several copies, which all raised hands to wave at her.

  “Forgive Rua,” Lopen said. “He’s a bit weird.”

  “I . . . Thank you, Rua,” she said.

  “I’m going to have to remove those gems on the chair for now, Brightness,” Rushu said. “We’ll need to use at least three for stability in the future, and I’ll want to strengthen the housings. After that, we’ll want to rig a way for you to order the anchor raised and lowered somewhere on the ship, so you can hover or not with a command.”

  “Yes, of course,” Rysn said, but she clung to Chiri-Chiri as she was forced back to the mundane ground, the precious gemstones stolen away. She could bear it. Something better was coming. She saw independence, and it was glorious. Even if she could merely move about the deck of the ship on her own, pulling herself along the railing, it would be a huge improvement.

  And the people who had helped her so much via spanreed over the past few months? Gifting her the equipment they’d developed, urging her toward self-sufficiency? She would soon have a repayment for them. Oh, storms would she.

  “Guess this will mean putting me out of a job,” Nikli said, walking over.

  Rysn felt a spike of worry for him. “For now this will only get me around the ship—if it ends up working. I suspect I’ll have need of your strong arms for some time yet, Nikli.”

  However, he was smiling. “I would like nothing more than to be put out of this job, Rysn,” he said softly. Then hesitated. “This is an important discovery for so many people. You should make certain to transfer it quickly via spanreed
. So it is not lost, in case something happens to this expedition.”

  “Wise,” Rysn said, glancing toward the dimming bonfire. The night was growing late. They’d soon need to get on the ship for the night. There was no storm today, and they’d be safer—in these foreign lands—out on the ocean than they would be trying to camp on the beach. “In fact, Ardent Rushu, you should probably inform others now. Don’t sit upon this news.”

  Rysn gave the order to return to the Wandersail, and everyone started packing up. Rushu did as asked, while the Lopen explained to the sailors what had happened.

  Nikli knelt beside her chair. “Brightness,” he said. “It’s not my place, I realize, to interfere in the doings of lighteyes. But . . .”

  “Go ahead,” Rysn said.

  “Do you mind telling me what that Horneater said to you? Earlier?”

  “We talked about spren, and about her gods. Why?”

  “The other night,” he whispered, “I overheard her saying something suspicious. She really wanted the expedition to continue. She’s too eager. Something feels wrong, like . . . I don’t know, Brightness. Like we’re heading into some kind of trap.”

  “I think your suspicion is misplaced, Nikli,” Rysn said.

  “Maybe, maybe,” he said, bobbing his head. “But earlier, did she warn you toward caution? Or did she encourage you forward?”

  “She encouraged me forward with caution,” Rysn said. “In that, she’s no different from the Alethi queen, or Queen Navani, or even Queen Fen. All want us to succeed.”

  “Yet they keep secrets, lie to us,” Nikli said. “I know I’m nobody important, Brightness. But if I were to come to you with proof of the Horneater’s ill will toward us, would it help you see that something is wrong here?”

  “I suppose it would,” Rysn said, frowning. But why would Nikli be so worried? Though . . . Cord had used invisible spren only she could see as proof that Rysn should continue. And Navani had kept part of the truth from Rysn. About one thing, certainly. Perhaps about others?

  But it made no sense. Cord was with the Radiants, and they trusted her. Why would Navani ask Rysn to go on this mission, then try to undermine it? Unless they were more divided than they seemed.

  Or unless . . .

  Her suspicion was piqued. “Thank you, Nikli,” she said. “You were wise to bring this to me.”

  “I worry they’re playing us for fools, Brightness,” he whispered. “I don’t like being manipulated to do Radiant work. Perhaps we should turn back?”

  “Get me your proof first,” Rysn said. “And for now, don’t tell anyone what you’ve told me.”

  10

  Rysn pulled herself along the port rail, and her chair—hovering in place a foot and a half off the deck—glided smoothly in response. She made it to the prow, then unlocked the mechanism that Rushu and Huio had installed on her seat. It was based on a spinning serving dish, and let the top of her seat rotate, while the bottom portion—with the gemstones—stayed in place.

  Rysn spun around so she faced the other direction, then pulled herself back toward where she’d started. Because there was no real resistance once she began, it wasn’t difficult work. But she did hold tightly to the rail, as she couldn’t help imagining some situation where the ship turned and she somehow—despite the wall in the way—ended up hovering out over the ocean.

  She soon reached where Nikli sat, the vibrant white tattoos that covered his face gleaming as he smiled. “That joy on your face, Brightness,” he said, his voice lightly accented. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen it on a person before.”

  She grinned and turned her seat again, but this time locked it with her back to the rolling ocean so she could observe the working sailors. As the ship rocked on the waves, her chair threatened to slide to the side, and she had to reach out to Nikli to steady herself.

  The mechanism needed some refinement—some way to attach her seat to the rail when she stopped. Still, she could barely contain her enthusiasm. Rushu had rigged a weight to the mast, connected via conjoined rubies, so Rysn could raise herself up to the height of the quarterdeck if she wanted. She couldn’t lower her chair back down, unfortunately, without help to lift the counterweight—but for now she enjoyed more individual mobility than she’d ever had since her accident.

  It felt wonderful. So good, in fact, that she turned and began pulling herself in the other direction again. And as she did so, she noticed the sailors watching her. Was it because of the oddity of her floating chair? Or because she risked interrupting their workflow, moving among them as she did? Though one of them nodded as she passed. And then another raised his fist toward her.

  They’re . . . rooting me on, she realized. In that moment she finally felt a kinship with the crew. A bond of understanding. What kind of person sought work on a sailing vessel? The type who longed for freedom—who wasn’t content to sit where they were told, but instead wanted to see something new. A person who wanted to chase the horizon.

  Perhaps she was imagining too much, but whatever their reasons, another raised a fist as he passed. The gesture seemed to propel her as she crossed the deck. As she swiveled and made her way back yet again, she noticed Cord stepping out onto the main deck.

  It was time. Rysn nodded to Nikli, and he slipped off belowdecks. Rysn was about to have her suspicions confirmed; she tried not to think about how much it would hurt.

  Cord took up a position near the prow. Ignoring her arms—which were beginning to ache from the difficulty of stopping and starting—Rysn turned and pulled herself that direction, eventually coming to a hovering rest beside the Horneater woman.

  Rysn’s chair put her a little higher than she was accustomed to sitting. If this worked, would she someday be able to hover in conversations at eye level with everyone else, even when they were all standing? A way to avoid feeling like a child among adults?

  Cord was staring to the northwest. Over the last few days, they’d come within sight of Aimia—a large, windswept island roughly the size of Thaylenah. Rysn had received some additional information from Vstim—everything they knew about the scouring so many centuries ago—and it confirmed what Nikli had told her. The cold temperature of the surrounding waters and the general exposure to storms left Aimia barren. It was basically uninhabited to this day.

  The smaller island they now thought was Akinah lay farther up along the coast, though it was unnamed on maps. Until recently, most scholars had assumed it to be one of the many islands clustered around Aimia that were now barren, nothing but crem and dust. And frequent localized storms in this region—along with treacherous rock formations just under the water’s surface—historically made this region unpopular for sailors to explore.

  Rysn could make out clouds on the horizon, their first indication that the ship was nearing its destination—the site of the strange weather pattern that they believed hid Akinah. Cord stared out at those clouds, holding to the rail, her long red hair streaming behind her in the wind.

  “This next part might be dangerous, Cord,” Rysn noted in Veden. “The Wandersail is a sturdy ship, among the best in the fleet, but no vessel is ever safe on rough seas.”

  “I understand,” Cord said softly.

  “We could go to port,” Rysn noted. “There’s a small watchpost on Aimia proper where our queen keeps a few men to survey the nearby seas for Voidbringer patrols. We could stop there to send spanreed messages and drop you off.”

  “Why . . . me?” Cord asked. “Why ask me?”

  “Because our conversation earlier gave me the feeling you were forced on this trip,” Rysn said. “And I want to make certain you are comfortable proceeding.”

  “I wasn’t forced,” she said. “I was hesitant, so your concern is appreciated. I want to go forward though.”

  Rysn held herself steady, hands on the rail, watching the shifting ocean. And those ominous clouds. “The Radiants I understand. They’ve been ordered to do this, like my sailors. Rushu is interested in the scholarly side, and
I’m here for Chiri-Chiri. But you’re not Radiant, Cord. You’re not a soldier or a scholar. You’re not even Alethi. So why join such a dangerous excursion?”

  “They needed someone who could see spren,” she replied, glancing up at the sky. “Fifteen today . . .”

  “I understand why you were sent,” Rysn said. “But not why you came. Does that make sense? Why did you want to join us, Cord?”

  “I suppose he is a good question,” Cord said, leaning on the railing. “You are a merchant. Always looking for what motivates people, right? Well, when I lived in the Peaks, I liked my home. My world. I never wanted to leave. But then I did, to join my father. And you know what I found?”

  “A world?”

  “A frightening world,” Cord said, narrowing her eyes. “He is a strange place. And I realized that I liked him.”

  “Being afraid?”

  “No. Being able to prove that I could survive frightening things.” She smiled. “But as to why I came here? This trip? Treasure.”

  “Treasure?” Rysn said, glancing over her shoulder. Nikli hadn’t returned yet. “That’s it?”

  “We have stories of this place, Akinah,” Cord said. “Great treasure. I wanted some of him.”

  It seemed such a mundane answer, but Rysn supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Wealth was the grand motivator that was common to all of humankind. It was part of why she’d become a trader, subjecting herself to apprenticeship.

  But it felt . . . wrong to hear the words coming from this tall Horneater woman. She seemed so contemplative, so solitary. Was that really all there was to her? A desire for money?

  “Well,” Rysn said, “if we do find treasure, then we will all be wealthy.”

  Cord nodded curtly. She stood almost like a ship’s figurehead. Rysn glanced over her shoulder again, and at last saw Nikli slipping up the steps. He caught her gaze and gestured urgently.

  Rysn excused herself, then spun her chair and pulled her way over to the man. He leaned in, then took something from his pocket. A small pouch.