“Still, I should very much like a chance to study one of these,” Navani said.

By reflex, Rysn began to reach toward Chiri-Chiri—to scoop her up. Rysn restrained herself, but the queen noticed. She didn’t repeat her promise not to take Chiri-Chiri, and she didn’t need to. Rysn trusted her, well enough. Navani Kholin wasn’t a thief. But she was a woman who usually got what she wanted, eventually.

Hopefully there was another way to fill that need.

“My notes say you possess an extraordinary ship,” Navani said. “The storm around Akinah is terrible and persistent. Do you think your ship could penetrate it?”

“If any ship can,” Rysn said, “it will be the Wandersail. We have fabrial pumps and modern storm stabilizers. But your information worries me. A place Radiants are afraid to visit? I must care for the well-being of my crew.”

“I understand,” Navani said, “but I can’t risk sending Windrunners alone if they will be drained midflight and fall into the ocean to drown. And so, I need a ship. I think you’ll find that your own queen encourages this mission as well.

“Hopefully we can minimize the danger. All I want is for you to take one of my scribes to the place, penetrate the storm, and let her survey the location. It shouldn’t take her more than a day to complete her inspection and collect a few artifacts. After that, you can return. I’ll see you properly outfitted beforehand and compensated afterward.”

Navani handed her a paper with generous payment terms. Rysn didn’t miss the promise of traditional salvage payments to the crew, if anything valuable was located. Even without that, she was thrilled at the numbers. If she’d been forced to visit Akinah on her own, she’d have needed to arrange for many nearby merchant stops—trading goods along the way to earn maintenance for the ship and crew. But with a patron, they could take a direct course.

She longed to do something adventurous like this. During her years training with her babsk, she’d complained incessantly about the way he’d dragged her all across Roshar. She had expected her apprenticeship to bring her to rich customers, trading for silks in courts and palaces. Instead she’d visited one backwater after another, going all the difficult places no one else thought worth the effort.

It was a constant source of amazement that her babsk hadn’t tossed her overboard after a single day—let alone hundreds—listening to her complain. Now that she was older, she found herself sincerely missing those excursions. To go somewhere new? To investigate the trading opportunities on a mythical island? And to possibly save Chiri-Chiri in the process? The prospect thrilled her.

There were still problems, however.

“Brightness,” Rysn said, “I have a good crew, seasoned and well-traveled. But you need to understand, sailors can be superstitious. The fact that we’d be sailing to a forbidden island so soon after the discovery of a ghost ship returning from that location . . . well, I have spent an entire day pondering how to sell them on the idea. It’s daunting.”

“I could send you a Radiant or two to improve morale,” Navani said.

“That would help,” Rysn said. “Could you also ask something of Queen Fen? You said she would want this mission to take place. A personal request from our own queen to my sailors would mean a lot to them. It would transform this voyage from a simple job into a royal mandate.”

Plus, it would help with Rysn’s authority on the ship. She shouldn’t need that, but after the curious way she’d been treated on her first voyage . . . well, she would appreciate the queen’s mandate to help prop her up.

“It will be done,” Navani said. “Queen Fen and I have been talking for some time about an expedition like this, so I’m certain she would be willing to write to your sailors.” Navani’s eyes narrowed. “But what of you, Captain? This is a difficult mission I propose. Is my payment offer enough? Is there anything more I could offer the woman who owns her own ship and keeps a mythical creature as a pet?”

Rysn glanced at Chiri-Chiri, who had grown tired of playing already, and was quietly batting at the sphere instead of chewing on it. She noticed Rysn, then launched into the air—flying to the palanquin to rest.

Needs. And connections.

“I should be honest, Brightness,” Rysn said. “Chiri-Chiri . . . is not well. I believe this mission could help her, so I am eager to undertake it for that reason. I need no special payment. However, if you’re willing to listen, there is something I would ask of you.”

“Speak freely,” Navani said.

The way Chiri-Chiri flew . . . What would it be like to be so free? Unchained? “Is it true,” Rysn asked, “that you have developed platforms that can soar high in the air?”

“Yes,” Navani said. “We use them for archer stations on battlefields.”

“But you’re trying to do more than that, aren’t you? Like with the construction outside, the supposed lifts?”

“I have shared my plans with Queen Fen,” Navani said. “I’m not certain what more you want me to . . .” She trailed off, perhaps noticing that Rysn had turned from Chiri-Chiri to instead stare at something else: her wheeled chair.

It provided her with some measure of liberty, but still required someone to push it for her. She looked forward to getting the one with large wheels she could move on her own. But that design, despite being wonderful, was so bulky. Plus, few current roads and floors were built for someone to be wheeled across. Even moving under her own power, her ability to get around would be severely limited.

Was there instead a way to soar? Perhaps never as well as Chiri-Chiri, but almost anything would be an upgrade from the chair. Her source of freedom, but also a constant reminder that the world did not accommodate people like her.

“I have scholars working on some prototypes that might interest you,” Navani said. “Since I’m sending a scribe on this mission anyway, I could arrange for her to be one who is experienced with our new fabrial designs. She could run some experiments for me on the ship, and perhaps show you what is possible with this technology.”

“I would find that agreeable, Brightness,” Rysn said. “And these other terms are generous and accepted. Consider our deal sealed. The Wandersail is at your disposal.”

3

The Lopen had never known there were so many different types of people in the world.

Oh, he’d expected there to be a lot, sure. But not so many. At Urithiru, you could see them all. How they dressed, how they talked, how they ate. Today, he zoomed past men from Steen with their beards wrapped in cords to make them long like a sausage. Women from Tashikk, wearing colorful wraps. Traders from New Natanan, with blue to their skin, as if they had sapphires in their veins.

All so different. He figured, sure, that people must be like mountains. See, when you were far away from mountains, they all basically looked the same. Fly up high, soar over them in a hurry, and there was no time for detail. Pointed. Covered in snow. Mountain. Got it.

Fly up close, and they each had their own distinctive jagged bits and places where the rock showed through. He’d even found flowers growing on a few, near vents that let out warm air. The problem with people was that everyone saw other nations from far away. Saw them as big mountainous blobs. Foreigners. Strange. Got it.