Tress of the Emerald Sea

by Brandon Sanderson

Tress stayed still for the moment. She’d entered an all-metal corridor, decorated only by a red carpet down the middle like a tongue. It was inlaid with symbols that a well-traveled person would recognize as Aonic, but that Tress saw as some kind of arcane rune. Which wasn’t too far off.

The woman herself sat at her desk near the bookshelves, holding a fluffy white cat and idly doing something on her laptop. Or, I mean, her “magical seeing board” that let her watch events outside, as well as occasionally play a mystical card game to pass the time. Her skin glowed, and she had a silvery effervescence to her. She was maybe in her fifties—rather, that was how old she’d been when she’d stopped aging—and she’d come a long way from the withered husk she’d once been.

To her, the woman looked deific. It was the glowing skin. Really helps you land a good first impression. I’ve been envious of that look for centuries now, and have been aiming to adopt it. In fact, that is what this has all been about. But I get ahead of myself.

“All this time,” she said, “and he’s never come to see me. Wise, I suppose. He knows I keep a vat of acid just for him. It’s one of the only ways to be sure about them, you know. That or a good fire.”

It was the spirit that inhabited this place, you see, obeying the will of its owner. Yes, like the speaking minds inhabiting the ships you’ve seen landing on your planet.

The very journey she’d taken to find what she wanted had transformed her into a person who could no longer enjoy that victory.

She didn’t realize that my true advantage has never been my uncommon intellect. It’s been my ability to find the right people and stick close to them.

A woman who would not back down when the lives of her friends were at stake. Pray you meet such a woman at least once in your life. Then pray you get out of her way quickly enough.

“Really, you should think about things more before you ask stupid questions, Ann.” And she should have known better. She might not have been asking a stupid question, but asking a question of stupid is nearly as futile.

You see, I’ve discovered that it’s all right to need help. So long as you’ve lived your life as the kind of person who deserves to be rescued.”

With a few tips, he wasn’t so boring after all. Secretly, I’ll tell you that you aren’t either. Anyone who tells you otherwise is trying to lower your value. Don’t trust them. They know they can’t afford you otherwise.