Tress of the Emerald Sea

by Brandon Sanderson

“I have your blessing then?” Tress asked them. “I still think this is a terrible idea,” Ulba noted. Lem nodded. “It is. But a terrible idea executed brilliantly has to be better than a brilliant idea executed terribly.

After she went upstairs, Lem retrieved his cane, put on his coat, and went out to do some advanced fathering.

I would call the gift of thoughtfulness a double-edged sword, but I’ve always found that metaphor lacking. The vast majority of swords have two edges, and I’ve not found them to be any more likely to cut their owner than the single-edged variety. It is the sharpness of the wielder, and not the sharpness of the sword, that foreshadows mishap.

They’d solved her problem. Instead of being angry at her for not having the solution, they had worked out one themselves. She…didn’t need to do this all on her own. That shouldn’t have been such a revelation for her. But after spending ages walking around with everyone piling bricks in your arms, it can throw you off balance when someone removes a brick to carry for you.

After that, Tress walked to the rail and took a sip from her cup. One with a butterfly, which had obviously been glued back together after being shattered into many pieces. The captain didn’t mind the breaks. Cups with chips, or dings, or even cracks had stories. She particularly liked the one this cup told.