Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(2)
“What banner does it fly?”
“None,” Brekv said, handing down the spyglass.
A bad sign. Why was it out here alone, during a war? Yalb’s own vessel was a quick scouting vessel, so it made sense for them to sail alone. But a merchant ship would want an escort these days.
Yalb focused on the ship. No crew on deck. Storms. He handed the spyglass back.
“You want to report it?” Brekv asked.
Yalb nodded, then went sliding down the line past Dok, who looked on with surprise. Yalb leaped off the rope and hit the deck running, then was up to the captain’s post in three jumps, skipping half the steps.
“What?” Captain Smta said. She was a tall woman, with her eyebrows in curls to match her hair.
“Ship,” Yalb said. “No crew on deck. Three points off the port bow.”
The captain glanced toward the helmswoman, then nodded. Orders went out to the men in the rigging. The ship turned toward the newly sighted vessel.
“You take a boarding party, Yalb,” the captain said. “In case your special experience is needed.”
Special experience. The rumors weren’t true, but everyone believed them, whispering that Yalb had sailed on a ghost ship for years—which was why it had eventually vanished. There was a reason nobody would hire all three of the survivors together, and they’d had to go their own ways.
He didn’t complain at the treatment. The captain had been good to take him. So if she ordered him, he’d do it. Indeed, though he was a mere seaman with no authority, even the first mate looked to him for orders as they finally pulled up beside the strange ship. Sails all torn to shreds. Listing in the water with a deck empty of even ghosts.
It didn’t vanish beneath their feet as they explored it. An hour of searching later, they returned empty-handed. No sign of any ship’s log, and no sign of any crew—living or dead. Only a name. First Dreams, a private ship the first mate remembered hearing about. It had vanished five months prior during some kind of mysterious voyage.
As Yalb waited for the captain and the others to discuss what to do, he leaned against the railing and studied the unfortunate ship, drifting forlorn. Was it fate that he should find this vessel? That the man whose ship had vanished now joined with the ship whose crew had vanished? The captain would want to break out an extra sail and bring this one home. Yalb was certain of it. They needed every ship in the war effort.
They were going to put him on it. He knew they were. The storming queen herself would likely demand it.
The sea was a strange mistress indeed. Open. Welcoming. Inviting.
Sometimes a little too much so.
1
Some people might have considered it boring work to select a new trade expedition. To Rysn, it was a thrilling chase. Yes, she did it sitting in a room surrounded by stacks of papers, but she felt like a hunter all the same.
Among these reports hid so many interesting tidbits. Details of goods for sale, rumors of ports with needs that the war was making difficult to fulfill. Somewhere among all of this minutia was the perfect opportunity for her crew. She sorted through it like a scout creeping through the underbrush, quiet and careful, seeking the perfect line of attack.
Plus, diving into something so involved distracted her from other worries. Unfortunately, as soon as she thought that, Rysn couldn’t help glancing at Chiri-Chiri. Covered in carapace, with large membranous wings, the larkin ordinarily spent her days pestering Rysn for food or otherwise getting into trouble. But today, like so many recently, the larkin was curled up, sleeping at the far end of the long table, near Rysn’s pot of grass from Shinovar.
Chiri-Chiri had grown to roughly a foot long from her snout to the base of her tail—which extended another fifteen inches. She was big enough that Rysn needed two hands to carry her. The larkin cut an impressive profile, with her pointed mandibles and predator’s eyes. But these days, her normally brown-violet shell had whitened to an almost chalky color. Too white—this wasn’t a simple molt. Something was wrong.
Rysn slid along her bench. In the past, she’d preferred a tiny office set off from others. She now thought she’d done that unconsciously because she’d wanted to hide away.
No more of that. She now had a large office, in which she’d commissioned a variety of furniture changes. Though she’d lost the use of her legs in her accident two years ago, her injury wasn’t as far up along her spine as other people she’d written to. Rysn could sit on her own, though doing so strained her muscles unless she had a backrest to lean against. Even then, she felt it was good practice to sit and strengthen her muscles.
Instead of a chair—or a series of them—she preferred long benches with high backs, which she could slide along. She’d ordered them built along the various long tables in the office, which also had a large number of windows. It felt so open and free now; she found it remarkable she’d ever preferred something much smaller and darker.
She reached the end of the bench, near Chiri-Chiri’s nest of blankets. Rysn set down her pen and plucked a diamond sphere from the nearby goblet, then nudged it over to Chiri-Chiri. It glowed brightly, inviting the larkin to feast on its Stormlight.
Chiri-Chiri only cracked a silver eye and barely stirred. A few anxietyspren, like twisting black cross shapes, appeared around Rysn. Storms. The animal doctors hadn’t been able to offer much aid—they guessed she had a disease, but said that diseases were very individualized to a species. And Chiri-Chiri was the sole member of her species any of them had ever seen.