Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(12)

A large part of its profits would go to the investors, including Vstim or his heirs—but he had given her the writ of ownership, and the symbolic captain’s cord to hang with her colors. That was the strictest definition of ownership, and no one would dispute it.

And yet, she had never touched the ship’s wheel. She wasn’t so innocent as to assume that she’d be able to helm the ship herself, but Vstim—when they’d been on voyages together—had usually been offered the chance to steer the ship for a short time near the start of the voyage. A symbolic ritual, but one he had always seemed to enjoy.

Rysn had asked for the same privilege on her first voyage last month. She hadn’t realized that her babsk had earned this privilege over years of caring for the crews of his ships. The captain had explained the distinction clearly to Rysn, in the same breath that she’d forbidden Rysn from ever asking again.

Rysn could order the ship to a destination, but she could not steer it. It was a distinction she’d never understood. And it meant that despite what the papers said, the ship was not Rysn’s. She owned it. She commanded it. But at least according to maritime tradition, it was not hers.

Tradition. Stronger than Soulcast wood. If only they could find a way to build ships directly out of it, they’d fear no wind or wave.

The captain, Drlwan, was a short woman with a sharp nose and unusually blonde hair. Rysn hadn’t realized until recently that having female officers was odd in other navies. In the Thaylen navy, while the bulk of sailors were men—trained to work the ballistae and repel boarders—female captains were common. Plus both the quartermaster and the navigator were women by tradition.

On the Wandersail, the soldiers were led by Kstled, the ship’s man-at-arms, who was the captain’s brother. Both captain and man-at-arms bowed formally to Rysn as she was carried up to the quarterdeck. Nikli and his assistant carried her in her wheeled chair to her new station: a tall seat, bolted to the deck, with a sunshade. It was out of the way of the helm, but would give her an excellent view of both the main deck and the surrounding ocean.

“Any thoughts?” she asked Nikli.

“It looks great, Brightness,” he said, rubbing his chin. “You might want a table at the side—or better, something with a flat top and drawers you can latch shut.”

“That’s a good idea,” she said.

“We can move one of your nightstands from the cabin, if you want,” he said. “Would only require some basic carpentry. We’ll try not to bother you too much setting it up.”

She nodded in thanks, then had him move her from the wheeled chair—which had a place to strap it down nearby—to the new station. This had a belt to hold her in place. The extra support would be welcome on the rolling ocean waves. The chair also had, by her request, some leg straps she could fasten to keep her legs in place during rough seas, though she didn’t intend to use those during ordinary sailing.

Nikli stowed her chair as she did up the belt. The burly porter didn’t say anything, but eyed the captain as she stepped over. He obviously didn’t like the way Rysn was treated on board, though he hadn’t said anything on the matter.

“Rebsk,” the captain said, calling Rysn by her formal title. It meant “shipmaster” or “owner.” “I formally welcome you on board.”

“Thank you,” Rysn said.

“I would like to suggest, now, that you remain at port,” Drlwan said. “You are not needed on this mission.”

Rysn felt an immediate burst of frustration. “Why would you think that, Captain?”

“Your job is to handle trade negotiations,” Drlwan said. “This voyage will include no such need. It is a survey mission. It could be dangerous, and as such, it would be wise if you remained safe at port. We can relay our experiences to you via spanreed.”

“Your concern for my well-being is commendable,” Rysn said, controlling her voice with effort. “But I have been tasked with this mission, and I will see it through.”

“Very well,” the captain said. She left to return to her post; by tradition she needed no dismissal from Rysn. And she never waited for one.

Nikli stepped over, handing her Chiri-Chiri, who was dozing. “I don’t think the captain cares a wink for your safety, Brightness,” he said softly. “She simply doesn’t like you.”

“I agree,” Rysn said, idly scratching Chiri-Chiri under the neck as she watched the captain chat with the man-at-arms.

“Do you think it’s because of . . . the way you are?”

“Possibly,” Rysn said. “But usually others are uncomfortable—or condescending—around people like me, not outright hostile. Not everything in people’s interactions with me is related to my condition.”

So what was the reason so many of the crew resented her? She wasn’t certain she could stand another full trip constantly feeling their eyes on her.

“I hesitate to mention this,” Nikli said, “but perhaps it would be better to delay the trip and look for another crew. That would give us more time to install the table for you, also.”

Rysn shook her head. “I need to learn to work with this crew. They are made up of my babsk’s most trusted and accomplished sailors. Plus, they trained on this ship. They were sailing it on test runs before it was formally commissioned.”