"Oh Warden's Balls," she mutters in Therin. They were going to capsize if something wasn't done, and everyone had their hands full. Nazca doesn't wait to be asked before leaping up and climbing in the rigging. Ordinarily, she'd be ordering others to do this, but she doesn't have the others, or the time to explain.

The water's too hazardous for them to risk speed, not without a better pilot. They don't have any wind anyway, and with the sails fully open, they'd be buffeted by every new emerging hazard.

She won't take them down completely, but she can't leave them open. If she can keep her grip and get this done, she'll worry about steering in a moment.