Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(33)
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?”