Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(40)
Rysn shook her head, feeling an alarming spike of loss. What if . . . what if Chiri-Chiri never came back? What if by bringing her here, Rysn had unwittingly offered her freedom—and she’d taken it? Well . . . Rysn tried to be positive. That was better than Chiri-Chiri being sick. And if the creature wanted freedom, Rysn wouldn’t confine her.
At the same time, so much emotion was wrapped up in her experiences with the larkin. Rysn’s slow recovery from her accident, her year of melancholy, her near death at the hands of Voidbringers. Chiri-Chiri had been with her for all that, and—in that brief first moment wondering if she was alone—Rysn found a startling fragility to her feelings. A desire to cling to something she loved and never, never let go.
Was that selfish? A trade or exchange couldn’t be a good one unless both parties gained something from it. Yet not everything was about exchanges and trades. It was sometimes difficult for her to remember that.
“Rebsk?” the captain asked.
“I . . . will wait here to see if she returns, Captain,” Rysn said, trying to remain steady. “Please, bring me word from the shore party as soon as they’ve inspected the beach.”
13
Lopen stood dramatically at the prow of the small boat, one foot up, spear over his shoulder, Rua standing in exactly the same pose on his other shoulder. The sailors had unshipped their oars behind him, as the rowboat now moved along under its own power. Why make the sailors work when you had Lashings?
Besides, Lopen could see a shadow under the water, moving along with him. These waters were shallow now, but whatever it was stayed close to the bottom—and with the clouds in the sky, it was dark enough down there to prevent Lopen from making out what it was.
He was still convinced, however, that this shadow was the thing that could feed off Stormlight. But not a little one like Chiri-Chiri. This was bigger, and a different shape. Flatter? It was hard to tell. He’d hoped it would surface and try to steal the Stormlight he put into the rowboat.
It didn’t. It seemed . . . timid. Frightened of him, unwilling to confront him directly. So Lopen tried to keep an eye on it, and had Rua do the same. It was hard, considering how exciting this next part was going to be.
Ahead, the water gave way to a rocky beach—which was overgrown with storming gemhearts like they were rockbuds. The chitinous remains of greatshells watched over them with hollow, cavernous eyes. Discarded armor of beasts long dead.
Huio’s boat drifted up beside Lopen’s, then slowed to match his lazy speed as they crossed the bay. Lopen’s cousin crouched, holding his spear in a tense posture.
“Can you believe it, older-cousin?” Lopen said. “Stepping foot on a land no person has ever visited.”
“There was a city here, Lopen,” Huio said. “It was literally one of the capitals of the Epoch Kingdoms.”
“Well, yeah,” Lopen said. “But, sure, there’s got to be a portion of it nobody ever stepped on, right?”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said. “Considering how long the Epoch Kingdoms stood and the expected population numbers.”
“Fine,” Lopen said, pointing forward heroically, with Rua copying him. “Onward we go, to step foot on a land no person has visited in centuries!”
“Except the crew of that other ship,” Huio said. “Who probably landed on the island, since they weren’t found on their ship. And others who presumably killed those people. We’ll be the first, except for all those.”
Lopen sighed and glanced at Rua, who rolled his head from one shoulder to another in annoyance, then made it fall off. “Cousin,” Lopen said, “do you know why it is that people stick you to the wall so often?”
“To judge the relative strength of Radiants by oath level, measuring the duration of Lashings against the Stormlight expended.”
“It’s because you’re no fun.”
“Nah, I decided to let it be fun. You get an entirely new perspective on life when hanging from the wall.” Huio grinned, then both of them turned sharply. The shadow under the ocean had changed direction, slipping away back toward deeper waters. Apparently it didn’t want to rise up high enough to let them get a good look at it.
Lopen’s Lashing ran out right as the boat ground against the stones and beached itself. As it jerked to a halt, he used the momentum to tip forward and step straight onto the shore. Now that was style. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Too bad Cord was on the ship, waiting until the sailors had scouted the region.
Sailors jumped out of the other large rowboats, then had to wade through the water to pull them ashore. Rua watched that with sadness.
“You could go run through the water if you want, naco,” Lopen said.
Rua glanced at him, still sitting on Lopen’s shoulder in his small form, then cocked his head.
“Well, yes,” Lopen said. He always knew what Rua meant. It was the way things were. “Just because I have style landing with elegant dignity and control doesn’t mean those fellows lack style when running through the waves. They have sailor style, while I’ve got the Lopen style.” He tapped Rua on the nose. “Don’t let people tell you that style is limited, pretending it will run out like Stormlight. Style is the best resource in the world, because we can make as much of it as we want—and there’s plenty, sure, for everybody.”