Ship of Destiny (Liveship Traders, #3)

by Robin Hobb

“Long or short, if you worry about every step of a journey, you will divide it endlessly into pieces, any one of which may defeat you. Look only to the end.”

Be now what you must be to succeed at the end of your journey, and when the end comes, you will find it is just another beginning.”

“Life is not a race to restore a past situation. Nor does one have to hurry to meet the future. Seeing how things change is what makes life interesting.”

You are strong enough now for all of us to confront what we are. And confront it we shall.

His thoughts were a mirror held to her corpse face. Once she had looked into it, she could not look aside.

They had used the stolen memories of a dragon to create a great wooden slave for themselves.

Who loves you or who you love is not as significant as who you are. Too many folk, women and men, love the person they wish to be, as if by loving that person, or being loved by that person, they could attain the importance they long for.

She let her voice drop dramatically. “Tattooed ones, you are free.” “We always were!” someone called out from the crowd, spoiling the moment for the Companion.

“Althea!” The beloved voice was shocked with worry for her, but there was something else there too, something she couldn’t name. She turned and after a blurry moment found Vivacia looking back at her. She should have looked joyful, not anxious. “It will be all right,” she assured her. “I’m here now.” She tried to run to her, but it became a stagger. Jek was suddenly at her side again, helping her to the railing. “I’m here now, ship,” she told her, finally, after all the months.

I rarely cry reading, but this was probaby the best thing I have ever read.

“KENNIT!” The roar was the voice of the wind itself, the cry of an outraged god. The taunting guard spun around to look aft. A terrible shiver ran over Kennit. He did not have to look. It was the voice of his dead ship, calling him to join it. He struggled to stand, but without his crutch, it was hard. “Help me up!” he commanded the Satrap. At any other time the royal youth would probably have disdained such a command, but the sound of the pirate’s name still lingered in everyone’s ears. He stood quickly and extended a hand to the pirate. Even the men on deck had slowed in their appointed tasks to look back. A look of horror dawned on some faces. Kennit hauled himself to a standing position by the Satrap’s slender shoulder and stared wildly about for the ghost ship. He found it, coming up swift on their starboard. Impossibly, it was Paragon, transfigured in death to a youth. A ghostly white serpent gamboled before the ship. More swift than the wind, unnaturally fleet, the liveship drew alongside. Completing the nightmare, his mother stood on the foredeck, her white hair streaming in the wind. She saw him. She reached a beseeching hand toward him. A golden goddess stood beside her, and a dead man commanded the crew. Kennit’s tongue clove for an instant to the roof of his mouth. The ghosts of his past came on, impossibly swift, drawing abreast of the Jamaillian ship and then veering toward it. “Kennit!” the voice thundered again. “I come for you!” Paragon put cold fury in hi...

The Jamaillian ship had nowhere to go. Despite her master’s frantic commands to spill wind from her sails, he could not slow her fast enough. The Paragon cut recklessly toward her bow. The Jamaillian ship veered, but it was not enough. With a terrible splintering sound followed by the groans of stressed timbers, she caromed at an angle against Paragon. His wizardwood absorbed her impact, but splinters flew from the Jamaillian ship. The Jamaillian ship slewed around, all control lost. Overhead, canvas flapped wildly. Suddenly, there was another grinding impact as the Vivacia pressed up against her other side. It was a reckless maneuver, one that could take all three ships down. The halted momentum of the ships swung them all in a slowly turning circle. Sailors on every deck roared in dismay. Overhead, rigging threatened to tangle. To either side, the Marietta and the Motley swept past, to hold off approaching Jamaillian vessels.

“Reyn thinks I’m beautiful. Can you believe that? Do you know what he said about my hands? That they will scale heavily as far as my elbows, most likely. He says if I rub off the dead skin, I’ll see the scarlet scales working through. He thinks I’m beautiful.” Her niece’s eyes shone with joy as she rattled words at Althea. And more than joy? Althea leaned forward incredulously. Reyn was right. Malta had a Rain Wild gleam to her eyes now. Althea lifted a hand to cover her mouth in shock. Malta did not seem to notice. She slipped her arm around the Satrap, her face suddenly concerned. “You are hurt!” she exclaimed, surprised. “I thought you were just—oh, dear, well, come along, let’s take you below and see to that. Reyn! Reyn, I need you!” Cozening and coaxing, Malta led the Satrap of all Jamaillia away.

He knew the touch of the big hands that accepted him. He would have wept, but there were no tears left. He tried to make his mouth move, to speak aloud how sorry he was. “There, there,” someone said comfortingly. Paragon? His father? Someone who loved him said, “Don’t fear. I have you now. I won’t let you go. You will not be hurt anymore.” Then he felt the kiss that absolved him without judgment. “Come back to me,” he said. “Come home.” The darkness was no longer black. It grew silvery and then as Paragon embraced him and took him home he faded into white.

“Take comfort in this, Amber. You are only one small, short-lived creature. You’d have to be a fool to think you could change the course of the whole world.”