She listened as Lopen told stories to the sailors. Fortunately, his efforts to raise their spirits seemed to be working. After consulting with the captain, Rysn had ordered a shore landing to burn prayers in honor of the santhid. They’d broken out a few kegs of a special Thaylen ale, and Cord was cooking a stew. Cumulatively, their efforts seemed to mollify the crew.
The undercurrent of the evening, however, was still confusion. Everyone seemed as baffled as Rysn was. What kind of omen was this? A corpse appeared, then vanished? Had it been a corpse at all?
Nikli sat nearby. Chiri-Chiri slumbered on the ground next to Rysn. The larkin seemed to be getting worse. Sleeping more and more. Eating less and less. Rysn’s heart trembled every time she thought about it.
Her spanreed finally began blinking. She snatched it up and oriented the board and pen, then let it start writing.
I have answers for you, the pen wrote. Vstim was dictating to his niece Chanrm, from the look of the handwriting. The Alethi have been keeping a secret from you, and from me as well, though Queen Fen did know about it. While everything Queen Navani told you about the mission is true, there is another, more vital reason she commissioned this expedition. There was once an Oathgate on Akinah.
Rysn read the words again, and let the implications sink in. An Oathgate. She hadn’t tracked their locations. She probably should have.
Why did Aimia have one? she asked. Wasn’t it barren, all the way before the Recreance?
No, Vstim wrote via his niece. The scouring happened after that, though both were so long ago that we don’t know many details. Apparently though, the capital had an Oathgate, like Thaylen City and Azimir. Queen Navani’s team on your ship is supposed to investigate what happened to it.
And open it? Rysn wrote back.
I gather they aren’t certain they want it opened. Securing Aimia—particularly Akinah—would require a large military force. Right now, the queen merely wants information. Is the Oathgate there? Does it seem like the enemy has been investigating it? Is the island habitable?
So Nikli was right, the Radiants had been keeping things from her. At least their secret was a fairly innocent one. What of the other thing I asked you about, Babsk? Rysn wrote to Vstim.
On this matter, I’ve been less successful, he dictated. None of the scholars I talked to have any idea what to make of your story of the disintegrating santhid. Though it does smell a little like some of the old stories about Aimians.
That they could take off their arms and legs? Rysn wrote. I met one of them on that expedition where I had my accident. That creature seemed very different from what we experienced.
True, Vstim dictated. But I spoke with Queen Jasnah Kholin about what you wrote to me, and she found it exceptionally curious. She says there were once two kinds of Aimians. One was the variety you saw. There are a few of them moving among the people of Roshar.
As for the other . . . she read an old story to me about creatures that were living heaps of cremlings. They would grow in the attics of buildings, then devour the occupants. She says she once considered these stories fancies, no more real than things like the gloomdancer or sea hags from Thaylen mythology. However, she notes that recently she’s begun hearing more reports of similar things—and from credible sources. She urges caution.
I’d appreciate any further information she can find, Rysn wrote. If this were the only oddity we’d encountered, I wouldn’t be so upset. But following the other items I mentioned, Babsk, it seems like a pattern. I think someone on the ship is deliberately trying to frighten my crew. And there might be an explanation that is more likely than these ancient stories.
In what way? Vstim dictated. How could some saboteur have created a santhid corpse like that?
You remember what I encountered six months ago? Rysn wrote. Right before the Battle of Thaylen Field? What if this was created by something like that?
An enemy Lightweaver, Vstim dictated. You think maybe someone made an illusion of a santhid corpse, then panicked as they realized you intended to tow it with you rather than sail away.
Exactly, Rysn wrote. And they made the illusion break into cremlings as a way of covering up what they’d done.
But in that case, he dictated back, wouldn’t it mean an enemy Lightweaver is close? Potentially on the ship?
Rysn didn’t respond. That was what it would mean—though admittedly she didn’t have a lot of experience with what Surgebinders could do or the range of their abilities.
I have a spanreed here to Queen Jasnah, Vstim dictated to her. Just a moment. I am explaining your theory. I warned the others I would tell you what I had learned about the Oathgates. I made it clear that I did not appreciate one of my friends being sent on a dangerous mission without full knowledge.
Rysn stared at the page. Friend? He was her master, her teacher. Honestly, her idol. Did he actually see her as a friend, now that she was grown? Something about that made her start to tear up.
All right, Vstim dictated, unaware of how that one word had affected her. Queen Jasnah is agreeing with your theory. She wrote, “Of course, that is an astute observation. I should have seen that possibility. Our access to these powers is too new—we keep overlooking such things.
“Compliment your shipowner for me, and warn her that an enemy Lightweaver is a very real possibility. And tell her that if there truly is one aboard, her mission is even more important, for it means the enemy is trying to prevent us from studying Akinah.” From this woman, I think that is high praise, Rysn.
When the pen didn’t write more, Rysn sent a reply. Well, I did almost get myself killed by one of those Lightweavers a few months ago. It’s not cleverness on my part to consider them; more an instinct for self-preservation.
Yes, Vstim dictated. Rysn . . . perhaps sending you on this particular mission was unwise. The more I ponder it, the more I believe we should have sent a fleet instead of one ship.
Could we spare a fleet? Rysn wrote, though she knew the answer. Their navy had been dealt a serious blow when the parshmen—the Voidbringers—had turned. Most of the ships that remained were vital in escorting troop transports and preventing Thaylen City from being blockaded. So no, a fleet could not be spared for an expedition like this.
When no reply came, Rysn glanced at Chiri-Chiri sleeping on the stones beside her. Then she started writing again. Babsk, Rysn wrote, you trained me for difficult, remote work. You made a woman out of a selfish child, and that woman is now prepared to use her expertise. I can do this.
I do not doubt that you can, Vstim dictated back. But I don’t want anything else to happen to you in my service.
She glanced at her numb legs, beneath the writing board. I will be careful, Rysn wrote. And you have done a great deal for me already.
Farewell, then, Vstim dictated. I trust your judgment, but please understand that if you decide it is right to turn back, you should do so—regardless of what anyone says. You must lead this mission according to your wisdom.
If only the crew had such faith in her. She said farewell to Vstim, then packed away her spanreed. After that, she looked up at the dark sky, searching for starspren and listening to the gentle crash of the waves. On her first few trips with her babsk, she’d been so self-absorbed—so frustrated at missing out on parties and negotiations with powerful houses—that she’d completely missed the beauty of this. Stars above, a sea breeze, and the soothing whispers of an ocean calling her to its embrace.