Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(13)

Nikli nodded and withdrew to stand near the steps, waiting for her commands. Rysn continued scratching Chiri-Chiri, lost in thought. Below, Queen Navani’s team arrived: two Windrunners, an ardent scribe, and a young Horneater woman—perhaps in her late teens or early twenties—who Rysn thought must be their servant. The sailors hailed them, and a few cheered.

“An odd reaction,” Rysn mumbled. Though she’d made her seat high, the railing to midship still obscured some of her view. An unfortunately common experience for her. “I would not have expected cheering.”

“It’s always good to have a Windrunner or two nearby, Rebsk,” the man-at-arms said, walking past. “I’d never turn down passage to one of them.”

This war had proven how vulnerable ships were to enemies who could fly. Large stones—dropped from very high—could sink even the strongest of ships. But that reaction, the excitement from the crew . . . was it covering something? Rysn had been trained to watch for overexcitement in a trade deal. Sometimes a person would try too hard to sell a product or idea. The way the sailors acted reminded her of that.

“Captain?” Rysn said, calling over Drlwan again. “What has happened? Why are the sailors on edge?”

“It’s . . . nothing, Rebsk,” the captain said.

Rysn narrowed her eyes. Though she hadn’t thought it remarkable at first—as the captain could be a showy woman—Drlwan was outfitted today in her formal dress uniform. Stark white, glistening with medals. She also wore an intimidating tricorn hat, her eyebrows curled and dangling beneath it. Although she had retired from official military service, the navy and the merchant marine were really two sides to the same card; ranks and accolades were shared between the two.

Today, that uniform was a show of force. A symbol.

“Tell me anyway,” Rysn said.

Drlwan sighed. “Ship’s pet was found dead this morning.”

The ship’s pet was a skyeel, good for hunting rats. Rysn knew from her previous voyage that a lot of the crew had liked her.

“Bad omen,” Kstled muttered from behind.

That caused Drlwan to glare at him. Modern Thaylens weren’t as superstitious as their ancestors—or at least they weren’t supposed to be. They were good Vorins these days. And the coming of the Voidbringers—whose ways and worship seemed uncomfortably close to the Passions and Thaylen pageantry—hadn’t done the old religions any favors. Rysn herself had drifted away from such ways of thinking, trying to be more intentional about her beliefs.

At any rate, Thaylens formally ignored omens. It was on the books, you might say, that such things were nonsense. Yet tradition was powerful, and when out at sea, logicspren could seem distant things indeed.

“Having a Windrunner on board,” Rysn said. “Good omen?”

Kstled nodded, eyebrows sleek and tucked behind his ears. “You could call it a . . . replacement for the dead skyeel. A counter-omen to the one this morning.”

“It’s all nonsense,” the captain said. “I have told the crew many times that I won’t stand for this kind of talk.”

“Indeed, you are wise,” Rysn said. “Tell me, have the crew been informed of our destination?”

“They have.”

“And did any express concern?”

The captain sniffed. “They were instructed, prior to the briefing, that there would be no questioning or grumbling. Queen Fen herself sent a writ supporting this mission. So we are committed.”

“I see,” Rysn said. “Spread my will among the crew. Tell them that if any have misgivings about our destination, they may remain behind—with no punishment—and join us again when we return.”

Drlwan drew her lips to a line. She didn’t like it when Rysn gave orders about the crew, though it was within Rysn’s rights. “Very well, Rebsk,” Drlwan said, nodding to her brother. He bowed to Rysn and ran off to pass the word.

“This could delay the mission,” the captain noted.

“Then so be it,” Rysn said. “I know that the crew still feels uncertain about following me, considering my lack of experience.”

“You were hand-picked by Vstim and given this ship as a mark of his favor. No sailor would speak out against you.”

And that isn’t exactly a contradiction of what I said, now is it, Captain?

In that moment, a thought occurred to her. She’d been seeing this entire experience—Vstim giving her the ship, her elevation to rebsk—through her own eyes. But she had been taught to look at interactions in a different way. What did the captain want? Why was she dissatisfied?

You thought the answer a moment ago, Rysn told herself. This ship was commissioned long before it was given to you. It was sailed by this crew for months. And then . . .

“Captain,” Rysn said, “did you know Vstim was going to retire?”

“He . . . spoke of it to me. And others who served him.”

“Yet he commissioned a new ship. An expensive one, the jewel of his fleet. The best any sea had known. He told you to train a crew, to practice sailing it.”

“And?”

“You thought he was going to give it to you, didn’t you?” Rysn said, softening her tone. “You didn’t realize he was planning to give it to me.”

The captain stiffened. “No sailor would presume that a man like Vstim would simply give them a ship.”