10

Rysn pulled herself along the port rail, and her chair—hovering in place a foot and a half off the deck—glided smoothly in response. She made it to the prow, then unlocked the mechanism that Rushu and Huio had installed on her seat. It was based on a spinning serving dish, and let the top of her seat rotate, while the bottom portion—with the gemstones—stayed in place.

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?”

“I suppose he is a good question,” Cord said, leaning on the railing. “You are a merchant. Always looking for what motivates people, right? Well, when I lived in the Peaks, I liked my home. My world. I never wanted to leave. But then I did, to join my father. And you know what I found?”

“A world?”

“A frightening world,” Cord said, narrowing her eyes. “He is a strange place. And I realized that I liked him.”

“Being afraid?”

“No. Being able to prove that I could survive frightening things.” She smiled. “But as to why I came here? This trip? Treasure.”

“Treasure?” Rysn said, glancing over her shoulder. Nikli hadn’t returned yet. “That’s it?”

“We have stories of this place, Akinah,” Cord said. “Great treasure. I wanted some of him.”

It seemed such a mundane answer, but Rysn supposed she shouldn’t have been surprised. Wealth was the grand motivator that was common to all of humankind. It was part of why she’d become a trader, subjecting herself to apprenticeship.

But it felt . . . wrong to hear the words coming from this tall Horneater woman. She seemed so contemplative, so solitary. Was that really all there was to her? A desire for money?

“Well,” Rysn said, “if we do find treasure, then we will all be wealthy.”

Cord nodded curtly. She stood almost like a ship’s figurehead. Rysn glanced over her shoulder again, and at last saw Nikli slipping up the steps. He caught her gaze and gestured urgently.

Rysn excused herself, then spun her chair and pulled her way over to the man. He leaned in, then took something from his pocket. A small pouch.

“What is it?” Rysn asked softly.

“Blackbane,” he whispered. “A virulent poison, prepared in its strength. I found it hidden among the Horneater woman’s things. Brightness . . . I think this is likely what was used to kill the ship’s pet. The group from Urithiru didn’t arrive on the ship until after the pet was dead, but they were in town the night before.”

“How can you be certain this killed Screech?” Rysn asked.

“I’ve heard of this poison before,” Nikli said. “It is said to make a person’s skin darken when it kills them, and I heard that poor Screech’s skin was off-color when they found her. Brightness, it’s clear now. The Radiants are lying to us. Why would they work so hard to undermine the trip?”

“Why indeed,” Rysn whispered. She unfolded a small red handkerchief from her pocket and waved it. Kstled had been waiting for this; he rushed down the steps from the quarterdeck, hand on his sword, joined by two of his best soldiers. Lopen and Huio, who had been hovering near the ship instead of scouting outward as usual, dropped to the deck as well.

“Rebsk?” Kstled asked her. “Is it time?”

“Yes,” Rysn said. “Take him.”

Nikli didn’t have time to so much as cry out. Kstled had him against the deck in seconds, a sturdy rope binding his wrists. It drew attention from the sailors, but the two armsmen waved them back to their work—and they went, knowing they’d get an explanation eventually. News didn’t remain secret long in such close confines.

“What?” Nikli sputtered. “Brightness? What are you doing? I revealed the traitor to you!”

“Yes, you did,” Rysn said. She’d had days to prepare for this event, ever since she’d become certain Nikli was the one creating the “omens.” It hurt anyway. Damnation. He seemed so genuine.

Kstled finished binding Nikli and pulled him over and up to his knees. Nikli looked at her, and his next objections died on his lips. He seemed to know she wouldn’t believe them.

“Of all the people I spoke to, Nikli,” she said, “only you constantly tried to get me to turn back. And once you realized I wasn’t accepting the omens, you saw me searching for the culprit. So you manufactured one for me.”

He didn’t respond, bowing his head.

“When I had Kstled thoroughly search Cord’s room yesterday, we found no sign of this bag of poison in her things,” Rysn said. “Yet you magically found one. Along with claiming expert knowledge on how it was used to kill the ship’s pet.”

“I see,” Nikli finally said, “that you learned all of Vstim’s lessons, Brightness.”

“Being betrayed by someone you trust is painful beyond explanation,” Rysn whispered. “But that is never a reason to pretend it can’t happen.”

Nikli sagged further.

“Why, Nikli?” Rysn asked.

“I . . . have failed. I will say nothing more, Rysn, but to beg you—with all sincerity—to turn back.”

“I can make him talk, Brightness,” Kstled said.

“I assure you, good man-at-arms,” Nikli said—his accent having completely vanished. “There is nothing you can do to me that will get you the answers you desire.”

Radiant the Lopen stepped closer. She hadn’t shared her entire plan with him, but had given him enough. She knew firsthand the danger of the Fused Lightweavers. If Nikli was one of those, she wanted a Radiant ready to face him.

At her request, the Lopen scooped Chiri-Chiri from her cloth nest on the quarterdeck, then brought her to Rysn. Kstled stood and pulled Nikli to his feet, bound. Rysn held Chiri-Chiri up toward him, and the larkin lethargically chirped.

“Anything?” she asked the larkin.

Chiri-Chiri clicked, but didn’t otherwise respond. Rysn pulled her back and offered her a sphere, which thankfully she consumed.

“I don’t think he’s hiding Stormlight or Voidlight,” Rysn said to the soldiers. “But I can’t be certain.” She scratched Chiri-Chiri where her carapace met skin. If Nikli was secretly an enemy servant, Chiri-Chiri would have drained his Light away.

At her command, Kstled sent two armsmen to search through Nikli’s things. She watched closely, but the captive man showed no sign of Voidbringer powers; he merely drooped in his bonds.

“Tell me, Nikli,” Rysn said. “When we search your things, what will we find? Proof that you’re the one who poisoned the ship’s pet and put the worms in our grain?”

Nikli refused to meet her eyes.

“You want me to turn back,” Rysn said. “Why? And how did you do that trick with the santhid?”

When Nikli didn’t respond, she looked to the Lopen.

“There’s no way to tell if he’s a Fused, gancha,” he explained. “At least, no way I can tell. Queen Jasnah, sure, she could do it. But to Rua and me, he looks like a regular person. Even cutting him won’t work. A regular singer, they would bleed blood the wrong color. But a Lightweaver? Well, he could change that.”

“Could we have Cord inspect him?” Rysn asked. “And see if she spots any strange spren?”

“Worth a try,” the Lopen said, and went to fetch her. Rysn didn’t expect much, unfortunately. Cord had been around this man for the entire trip. If there had been something to spot, surely she would have noticed it already.

Indeed, after a quick inspection, Cord just shrugged. “I don’t see anything unusual,” she said in Veden. “I’m sorry.”

“We’ve taken his assistant captive, Brightness,” Kstled said softly. “Just in case.”

“Plamry knew nothing of this,” Nikli muttered.

“What do we do with him?” Kstled said.

Normally, she’d have thrown him in the brig. Plamry too, as she wasn’t certain she could trust the man. But her ship was approaching a mysterious storm. Traversing that, then exploring the island beyond, would consume her crew’s attention. Did she really want a possible Voidbringer sitting in her hold?

Unfortunately, if he was a Voidbringer, executing him would do no good—he would simply claim a new body at the next Everstorm. And if he wasn’t one, she keenly wanted to interrogate him once the mission was finished.

“Cord,” she said. “A moment, please.” Rysn pulled herself a little way to the side, and Cord joined her. “If he were a servant of one of those . . . gods you told me about,” Rysn whispered in Veden, “the ones that guard treasures? Would there be a way to know?”

“I have no idea,” Cord said softly. “The Gods Who Sleep Not are powerful. Terrible. Cannot die. Cannot be captured. Eternal, without body, capable of controlling cremling and insect.”

Delightful.

“Radiant the Lopen,” Rysn called, “would you and Huio fly our captives to the main island of Aimia? Bring some manacles and lock them to whatever convenient feature you find. Give them some food and water. We’ll leave them, and recover them after exploring Akinah.”

“Sure thing, gancha,” the Lopen said.

It wasn’t a perfect solution; she fully expected Nikli to have found a way to escape by the time they returned for him. But at least she’d have him off her ship. Voidbringer, god, or simple traitor, this seemed the best way to protect her crew. She’d send word of his location to the Thaylen watchpost. Plamry, at least, might be innocent. She didn’t want him left alone if something happened to the Wandersail.

One of her sailors arrived with manacles, and Rysn watched—discomforted—as Nikli and Plamry were flown off. Storms, did she need to suspect every member of her crew of being an enemy Lightweaver?

The only thing she could do would be to have the captain and Kstled interview every crewmember, to search for anyone who seemed off. Kstled went to join Captain Drlwan on the quarterdeck—she’d been informed ahead of time, of course. She would make an announcement to the crew.

Eventually, the sailors sent to rummage through Nikli’s things returned with another bag of poison and, curiously, an annotated recipe book written in Azish.

Rysn looked through this, finding notes that said things like, “Humans prefer salt in abundance” or “cook longer than you think will be required, as they often eat their meals mushy.” And, most alarmingly, “This will cover the taste” in reference to a spicy dish.

The implications haunted her. If his attempts to get them to turn back hadn’t been successful, would Nikli have poisoned the crew? It made a terrible kind of sense—they’d have needed another cook if Cord was imprisoned, and Nikli had bragged to her about his cooking ability. She could see a world where he was put in charge of the ship’s galley, and the rest of them unwittingly ate his deadly meal.

It was time to put some extra precautions in place. A few rats tasting each meal before it was served to the crew, perhaps?

Who are you really? she wondered at the distant figure. And why are you so intent on keeping us away from this island?