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“What do you think we should do? Turn back?”
“I . . . do not know,” Cord said, wringing her hands. “I have no personal experience. My father might know more, if I were to write to him.”
“Where is he?” Rysn said. “I will let you use my spanreeds, if they can reach him. I will listen to any information you find on these beings, no matter how insignificant it may seem at first.”
“My father is at Urithiru,” Cord said, gripping her hand again. “Thank you. Yes, that would help. He—” She stopped and looked sharply at the sky.
“Cord?” Rysn asked.
“Spren,” she said. “In the sky.”
“I don’t see any,” Rysn said, frowning and glancing upward. “Did one of the stars move?”
“No, not starspren,” Cord said. “Apaliki’tokoa’a. Lopen called them luckspren.” She frowned. “They are swirling around in the sky, and keep darting toward the ocean, then returning. They dislike that we have delayed. They want us to continue our voyage.”
“Wait,” Rysn said. “I’ve seen luckspren flying with skyeels in the past. There aren’t any in the sky right now.”
“Oh!” Cord said. “You did not know? I see spren, even those that do not want to be seen. He is a gift, to my family, and others of my kin.” She pointed. “There are twelve luckspren I count.”
“Interesting,” Rysn said. “Is that why the Radiants brought you?”
“Well,” Cord said, “I think also Lopen wants to impress me? Maybe? Anyway, yes. I was uncertain at first, but was persuaded. The Radiants and Rushu wanted me to watch for spren that might have to do with Aimia. So I am here.” She smiled. “You have no idea how nice this is to talk.”
Well, that was one mystery cleared up. Cord’s presence on the trip finally made sense. But it was another secret Rysn couldn’t understand why the Radiants had kept—save for the fact that they worked for the Alethi. It seemed that group kept secrets out of principle.
You work with the Thaylen guilds, Rysn reminded herself. The Alethi aren’t the only ones who weaponize information.
“Cord,” she said, a thought occurring to her. “Could you tell if someone was hiding behind an illusion? Perhaps if they were not human, but pretending to be, using Lightweaving?”
“I . . . do not think so,” Cord said. She glanced at the sky again. “We must continue this voyage, Brightness not-captain. These spren are not high gods, but near to them. They urge us forward. But we must be cautious. . . .”
A call rose from the fire, and Huio waved for Cord to return—he was tending the stew in her absence—so she excused herself and hurried over. Rysn stirred at her bowl, taking bites but suddenly unable to enjoy the flavor.
In an odd way, she felt trapped. Between her own expectations and the very real worry that she was in over her head. Was she pressing forward stubbornly to prove herself, and endangering everyone? This seemed like the exact wrong time for Vstim to have turned to politics. His sailors needed him, and Rysn was a poor replacement.
She also worried so much about Chiri-Chiri. But was it right for her to endanger so many others to save one being? Both the Alethi queen and Cord encouraged her forward, but they weren’t responsible for the lives of the Wandersail’s crew. Rysn was.
She needed to care for them. Even if they didn’t trust her, or respect her. She needed to be the woman Vstim thought she was. Somehow.
Her ruminations were interrupted as Lopen, Huio, and Rushu left the fire and walked toward her. Sitting apart tonight had so far not quite accomplished her goal of solitude.
Rysn tucked her self-doubt away behind a tradeswoman’s mask and nodded to them in welcome. They were speaking quietly in Alethi as they approached.
“He still feels bad,” Lopen was saying. “But I worried about this. ‘Huio,’ I said to him, ‘whenever you build a sandwich, you accidentally put the flatbread in the middle. How are you going to put back together a fabrial?’ ”
“Is true,” Huio admitted. “Middle bread taste good.”
“Your fingers get wet!” Lopen said.
“Wet fingers taste good,” Huio said.
Rushu ignored them, instead kneeling beside Rysn’s chair. It was her more comfortable one, padded and wider than the one with the wheels on the back legs. So it was broad and sturdy enough that Rushu could look all the way underneath.
“If you don’t mind,” the ardent said, then proceeded to start working on the bottom of the chair without waiting for a response.
Rysn blushed and tucked her skirts up tight against her legs. She did mind. People generally didn’t understand how much Rysn saw her chairs as part of who she was. Fiddling with one was like touching her own person.
“In fact,” Rysn said, “I would prefer if you asked first, Ardent Rushu.”
“I did ask. . . .”
“Ask. Then wait for a reply.”
Rushu hesitated, then pulled out from underneath the chair. “Ah. I apologize. Brightness Navani did warn me about how I act sometimes.” She settled on her heels. “I have something I wish to try on your chair. With fabrials. May I proceed?”
“You may,” Rysn said.
Rushu leaned forward and returned to work. Nikli approached, and shot Rysn a look that seemed to ask whether she needed help. Rysn shook her head. Not yet.
“Ardent Rushu?” Lopen asked. “I cannot help noticing that you have not given an explanation to me or Brightness Rysn about what it is you want to do.”
“You say more than enough for both of us, Lopen,” Rushu replied.
“Ha!” Huio said.
Lopen grinned, putting a hand to his head. “A fellow has to try all the words, sella, to see which ones make for good matches and which ones don’t.”
Rushu grunted her response from somewhere underneath Rysn.
“Words are like foods,” Lopen said, settling down on the rocks nearby. “You’ve gotta taste them all. And foods change over time, you know. How they taste. What they mean.”
“People change,” Rushu said. “Your tastes change. Not the food.”
“Nah, it’s the food,” Lopen said. “Because I’m still me, you see. I’ve always been me. That’s the only thing I can really know—that I’m me. And so if the flavor of something changes, then the only thing I can say for sure is it tastes different, you know? So it changed.”
“Huh,” Rushu said. “. . . Lopen?”
“Yeah, sella?”
“Have you . . . had someone read you Pleadix’s Introspections?”
“Nah,” Lopen said. “Why?”
“Because that sounded almost like you were espousing—”
“Espousing?” he said. “I’m not married, sella. I suspect the ladies think there is too much Lopen—by at least one arm at this point, sure—for them to hold.”
“Never mind,” Rushu said. “Rysn, I should explain better. I apologize for that as well. You see, I discovered something alarming today.”
“When we saw the santhid?” Rysn asked.
“Hmmm? Oh, no. I was napping during that. No, those two Windrunners were playing with my spanreeds this morning.”
