Dawnshard (The Stormlight Archive, #3.5)(6)

Most of Rysn’s contemporaries entered a discussion asking, “What can I get from this?” Rysn had been disabused of that notion early in her training. Her babsk taught a different way of seeing the world, training her to ask, “What need can I fulfill?”

That was the true purpose of a merchant. To find complementary needs, then bridge the distance between them so everyone benefited. It wasn’t about what you could get from people, but what you could get for them that made a successful merchant.

And everyone had needs. Even queens.

The porters set Rysn down, and she left Chiri-Chiri in the palanquin, having Nikli transfer her to the chair before Navani’s desk. She preferred to use the seats offered her in these situations, though her wheeled chair was carefully stowed at the back of the room.

The porters and guide retreated, though Nikli remained right inside the door to wait upon her needs. A young woman stood at a writing desk nearby, recording minutes, and two guards watched the door. Aside from that, Rysn was virtually alone beneath the gaze of this incredibly regal woman.

It was a good thing Rysn had mostly gotten over her feelings of insecurity. Otherwise this might have been very intimidating, instead of only slightly so. Navani studied Rysn as if she were a schematic for a ship, seeming to read her very soul with those discerning eyes.

“So . . .” the queen said in Thaylen. “Who are you again?”

“Brightness?” Rysn said. “Er, I’m Rysn Ftori. Bah-Vstim? I came in response to your request?”

“Oh, right,” Navani said. “The ghost ship.” Navani held out her palm, and her assistant hurried over, handing her the appropriate notes. The queen stood and paced as she read through the notes while Rysn waited.

Finally the queen stopped, focused on the chair at the rear of the room, then pulled her chair over and sat before Rysn. It was a small gesture, but appreciated. Rysn didn’t mind when people remained standing in her presence, but there was a certain thoughtfulness in the way Navani situated herself so they could discuss at eye level with one another.

“Queen Fen says you have inspected the ship in person?” Navani said.

“Yes, Brightness,” Rysn said. “I visited it yesterday, after I decided to agree to your request. It was brought into port weeks ago, and has been undergoing repairs. I toured it to see if I could notice anything odd.”

Navani’s eyes flicked toward the wheeled chair.

“I was carried, Brightness,” Rysn said. “With my porters, I assure you I am quite mobile.”

“You know,” Navani said, “we have Radiants who specialize in something called Regrowth. . . .”

“My injury turned out to be too old for healing, Brightness,” Rysn said, her stomach twisting at the words. “I tried to avail myself of their abilities the moment I learned of them.”

“Of course,” Navani said. “I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize for offering me aid, Brightness,” Rysn said. In fact, I’m glad you noticed. Because there’s something else you might do for me. But the time for negotiation had not yet arrived.

Rysn had a need. Several of them. Best to find out what Navani needed, and why, before they began the dance. “If we may return to the topic at hand, Your Majesty . . .”

“Yes,” Navani said. “This ship. So curious. Did you find anything interesting in your inspection?”

“Whoever set the ship adrift tried to scuttle it,” Rysn said. “But they weren’t aware that modern Thaylen ships aren’t so easily sunk by a hole or two in the hull. It’s obvious foul play, Brightness. The logbooks were taken.”

“Blood on the deck?” Navani asked.

“None we could find, Brightness.”

“And . . . the missing Soulcaster?” Navani asked.

Rysn had only just been told this particular piece of intelligence: the ghost ship, First Dreams, had carried a rogue Soulcaster as a passenger. Not a Knight Radiant, but a woman trained in the use of one of the ancient devices that could transform things from one material to another.

“We didn’t find the Soulcaster,” Rysn said. “Neither the woman nor the device. It seems likely that someone knew the ship was carrying this runaway, and then attacked it, murdering the crew to get the Soulcaster.”

The devices were rare and extremely powerful. Most kingdoms had access to only a handful of Soulcasters—if any at all. Many people in Thaylenah thought the Alethi’s wartime prowess was due less to superior troops, and more to the number of Soulcasters they had feeding said troops.

It wasn’t the kind of thing one pointed out to one’s allies. Particularly not while in a joint large-scale war against ancient monsters from the Void.

“Yes . . . perhaps,” Navani said, rolling her notes and tapping them softly against her other hand. “I have spoken to the prince of Liafor, who says the Soulcaster thought that Aimia—as the ancient home of Soulcasters—might contain secrets to healing her afflictions. More, the ship’s captain—a man named Vazrmeb—was infatuated with the legendary riches of Akinah, the lost capital of Aimia.”

Curious. That was more than Vstim knew. The queen appeared as resourceful as her reputation implied.

“Aimia is barren,” Rysn said carefully. “It’s been thoroughly scouted, and hundreds of captains—with stars in their eyes—have tried finding mysterious fortunes on the island. They’ve all returned empty-handed.”