The Map of All Things (19 page)

44
Calay

The population of Calay prepared for Landing Day for weeks: decorating buildings, cleaning the streets, whitewashing homes, and stringing celebratory ribbons and banners from slanted eaves. The main kirk held services three times daily, rather than just the traditional sunrise ceremony.

On the piers, children dangled hooks and strings into the water to catch a special fish for the holiday feast (though most of the fish in the harbor tasted like mud). Vendors sold pastries and tarts. Farmers wheeled in carts of barrels filled with sour pickles, a traditional Landing Day treat. Well-to-do families kept model Arkships inside their homes, which the mothers brought out from storage crates and dusted off, filling the small cargo holds with candy.

On street corners, young presters told the already familiar legend of Aiden's voyage from Terravitae, the perils he had endured and the exotic places he'd seen before his ship landed on the isthmus. Farther south in Uraba, the people claimed that
Urec
had landed there; they celebrated a different Landing Day, but all Tierrans knew the truth.

Mateo walked through town with Vicka Sonnen, staying close to her as they perused merchant stalls filled with interesting items, including old pilgrims' badges from days when the faithful could travel to Ishalem and back.

Vicka liked to poke through the jewelry, appreciating the fine metalwork. “It takes nimble fingers to make a thing like this.” She picked up an ornate fishhook pendant made of polished Corag silver. He was eager to buy it for her, but she merely laughed and set the pendant back on its display, to the disappointment of the merchant. “I was just looking. I don't think I'd have the patience to make something so intricate and delicate.”

“You've shown me enough patience of late. So much business at your father's forge…” Mateo had been going to the Sonnen smithy on various pretexts at least four times a week. More often than not, he coincidentally arrived at the time of the evening meal, which he then ate with Vicka.

She cocked her eyebrows. “Was it truly business, or just an excuse to see me?”

“Anything to make the Tierran army as strong and prepared as it can be.”

“Such attention to detail. At least you gave me the opportunity to fix your armor. Its condition was shameful.” She made a tsking noise. “If you'd been killed by a Urecari sword thrust, I'd have been embarrassed.”

“I appreciate your concern for my well-being,” Mateo said with a rueful smile.

“I was thinking more of my reputation than your well-being.”

He laughed. “In that case, I'll make an effort to stay alive—if only to protect your reputation.”

They strolled past scribes who offered to take down letters or write Landing Day wishes in fine calligraphy. Mateo bought a pickle on a stick, which he and Vicka shared, passing it back and forth, taking nibbles. The astringent tang made his mouth pucker.

Since he took such frequent meals at the Sonnen smithy, obviously focusing his attention on Vicka, the young apprentices and journeymen knew full well what was going on. Ammur, though, didn't notice anything amiss; in fact, he spent most meals droning on about how many swords he planned to make, which types or lengths of blade he would choose. Recently during meals, Vicka had chosen to sit with Mateo inside the smithy building so they could have some privacy. When she gave her father the poor excuse that Mateo was “distracting the other workers,” Ammur actually believed her.

In fact, Mateo realized with a start, he'd been spending so much pleasant time with Vicka that he hadn't worried about Anjine and her betrothal since she'd departed for Peliton.

A crowd gathered around a juggler who tossed colored glass bottles in loops, making a humorous show of stumbling and nearly dropping the delicate objects on the cobblestones, but catching each one just in time and balancing it on his knuckles or elbows before finally popping it into the air again. Vicka's laugh was a deep-throated sound of delight.

Mateo regaled her with stories about sailing aboard the patrol ship
Raven
. When he described his clashes with Urecari raiders up and down the coast, he didn't boast about the number of enemy fighters he'd killed; he stated it as a fact, which impressed Vicka more than any braggadocio would have.

They paused to hear a young, straw-haired prester whose voice squeaked a little as he told his story. “And after Aiden had exiled Raathgir up to the icy wastes of Iboria, the Arkship sailed on and on. His wife and crew began to wonder if Ondun had made other lands besides Terravitae, or if they would voyage forever, finding no landfall at all. Rain gave them water to drink, and they continued to have plentiful harvests of fish from the waters, but there came a time when not a single fish appeared in the nets. The waters were barren. Aiden feared that they had sailed beyond where Ondun had created fish.” The young prester leaned forward. His listeners, mostly young boys, crowded closer in rapt attention. “But that wasn't the reason at all.”

“It was the Leviathan, Prester Dilora!” one child whispered.

“Yes, the Leviathan had scared away all the fish—and now the monster was coming for Aiden's Arkship. The most terrible beast in the sea, so awful that after Ondun fashioned it, He realized that He didn't dare create a mate for it, or their offspring would devour the world!

“The Leviathan rose to the surface in a storm. The huge beast had long tentacles, a single blazing eye, and a giant maw filled with sharp teeth. It wanted to eat the Arkship and swallow Aiden whole.” Prester Dilora extended a finger. “And do you know how he saved himself?”

The children were hushed, in thrilled awe of the story. Vicka was smiling.

“Why, Aiden leaned right over the bow to stare into the Leviathan's eye! ‘Leave us, for I am the son of Ondun. What has been created can always be
un
-created!' he said. Hearing the truth and the power in Aiden's voice, the monster was even more afraid of him than the other way around. The Leviathan sank beneath the waves and did not bother the Arkship again.”

The young prester challenged his titillated listeners. “Would you have been so brave? Would your faith have been strong enough?”

One of the boys blushed as he admitted, “I would've been scared.” His companions teased him.

Vicka elbowed Mateo in the ribs as they strolled away. “I'll bet you would have been brave enough.”

More children ran down the streets, flailing lengths of yarn as they tried to rope each other. Laughing, they tossed their yarn over Vicka and Mateo and ran off, leaving them caught. Mateo took one of the blue strands and threw it in a loop around Vicka's waist. “There, now I've got you ensnared.”

She stepped in closer. “You've been trying to snare me for some time.”

For a moment, he thought guiltily of Anjine, knew that even now she was in Erietta discussing her wedding plans with Jenirod. But he pushed the vision of her face aside and gazed at the beautiful woman directly before him. “And have I been successful?”

She shrugged and teased him more gently. “Time will tell.”

“I'm a soldier, and an impatient man. I'd like to know now.” He drew her closer, tugging the string more tightly, and looked into her eyes. He blurted the words before the thought had even crystallized in his mind. He had certainly not intended to ask, but at the moment, with her next to him, the question seemed the most natural thing in the world.

The words startled her enough that it took her a long moment to compose a response that was not at all as flippant as she apparently intended it. “I expected a man like you to be able to think of a more impassioned proposal, but if that's the best you can do… I suppose it's the thought that counts.”

Mateo flushed. “I'll try to think of something better, and I'll ask you again at a more appropriate time.”

But she wouldn't let go. “No need for that. The answer would still be the same. Yes, of course I'll marry you.”

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

45
Ishalem

Each time he returned to Ishalem, Soldan-Shah Omra felt a sense of triumph to know that the great city was firmly under Urecari control. The new buildings, the repaved streets, the faithful pilgrims gave him a sense of satisfaction unlike any other. When he looked out over the city from the hill, where Urec's gigantic Arkship had rested for so many centuries, the concerns of the five soldanates seemed unimportant.

Omra admired the enormous foundations and rising frameworks of the two new Urecari churches, one on each side of the city. Quarries delivered shipments of stone blocks to each worksite, and scaffolding laced the walls as they grew higher. Soldan Huttan urged the crews to build his eastern church with greater speed, while Soldan Vishkar and his Saedran architect appeared to be falling behind because they devoted more time to study and planning. Nevertheless, both landmark churches were rising high, the work of generations being completed in a handful of years.

As Omra turned in a slow circle to behold all of the works in Ishalem, Kel Unwar gave his report. “Those projects continue at such a rushed pace, my Lord, that we often run short of supplies. We've used so much stone over the past five years that two of our quarries have petered out, which means that shipments must travel a greater distance. The shortages are causing some dissent. Each building site is like a hungry nestling with its beak wide open, demanding more and more.”

Omra nodded. “I will send my new emissaries to command their soldanates to supply more raw materials with all due speed. Their husbands will listen—it is their duty to Urec.” He stroked his dark beard. “And of course, any wealth or materials seized from trespassing Tierran ships shall be added to our own resources. The interlopers can consider it a tax.”

“At least God's Barricade is complete, Soldan-Shah. The 'Hooks are forever denied access to Ishalem.” After the recent Aidenist charge against the wall, Unwar had pushed the work teams to exhaustion, causing the deaths of many enemy slaves.

“I know of no other man who could have managed such an impossible project, found all the necessary stone, built ramps and scaffolding as far as the eye could see, arranged the cranes and pulleys, guided the work crews and slaves. God's Barricade is a legacy that will preserve your name in history, Kel Unwar.”

The man turned away. “I don't do it for history or personal glory, my Lord, but to hold off the heretics. All of my passion has been devoted to completing this project. I don't know what I'll do with myself now that it's finished.”

Omra crossed his arms over his chest. “What if I were to propose an even more ambitious scheme?”

Unwar didn't flinch. “It would challenge me, my Lord.”

“Good.” Omra gazed as far as he could see, mentally measuring the width of the isthmus. “You've already built a wall. Now I need you to dig a canal.” Though they were alone atop the Arkship hill, Omra lowered his voice, sharing a secret. “Only seven miles of dry land separate the Middlesea and the Oceansea. I propose that we excavate a path straight across the isthmus.”

Kel Unwar's eyes widened in disbelief. “Sunder the two continents?”

Excitement had been building in Omra ever since he had conceived the idea. “It is time-consuming and impractical for caravans to cross the isthmus with loads of material. The Gremurr mines produce heavy shipments of armor for our war galleys, but it must be hauled by slow, overloaded wagons from one shore to the other. If we build a waterway connecting both great seas, however, our ships will be able to travel from Kiesh all the way to Lahjar.”

Unwar took several deep breaths. “But… it is seven miles of solid land, Soldan-Shah! The hills, the rock—it would take centuries, and thousands of slave teams to dig such a trench.”

“We have something better than slaves, and faster.” Omra stared toward the blue-gray haze of the Middlesea off to the east. “Nunghal firepowder can remove as much dirt in a single blast as large work crews excavate in days. The hardest bedrock will crumble under the explosion.”

Unwar reconsidered. “That changes a great deal. And where am I to get hold of this miraculous substance?”

“I brought a shipload of firepowder with me, and we can manufacture much, much more.”

Kel Unwar shook his head as he realized the true ramifications. “I have always assumed that the world is the way it is because Ondun created it so. He connected the continents of Tierra and Uraba by an umbilicus of land.”

“Now we must sever that umbilicus—and leave Tierra stillborn.” Omra's eyes gleamed above his confident smile.

“I shall begin surveys immediately, Soldan-Shah, to determine the most efficient path to be excavated, utilizing lakes and existing canals. I accept your challenge.”

“Then we had best begin manufacturing more firepowder—a great deal more.” Omra clapped the man on the back. “I am glad Urec gave me men such as you.”

A sudden flare on the western coast caught his eye, flames rising from what had once been Aiden's Lighthouse. Omra pointed. “A signal fire. Are we under attack?”

Unwar shaded his eyes. “It's not a call to arms. Someone has spotted a ship, but… it doesn't seem to be a Tierran war vessel.”

“It must be one of our own ships, then, from Khenara or Tenér.”

But the kel shook his head. “We have a different-colored signal for that. This is… I don't know what it is. A strange ship.”

Omra and Unwar touched spurs to their horses and rode down the steep Pilgrim's Path, working their way toward the sentinel lighthouse on the Aidenist side of Ishalem. There they could see a bulky ship with accordioned gray sails gliding majestically into the harbor.

“She does not display the Eye of Urec, and she's definitely not Tierran.”

Many strange-looking men crowded the vessel's deck, waving as they came in sight of shore. Omra sensed something unusual about the people aboard, noting their thick, dark hair and squarish bodies.

The newcomers threw out lines for curious Uraban workers to tie to pilings. One of the men aboard pushed his way to the plank ramp as soon as it was angled down to the pier. His grin showed a gap in his front teeth. “Soldan-Shah Omra, you came to greet us in person. What an honor!”

Omra recognized the Nunghal visitor who had survived a trek across the Great Desert. “Asaddan! I didn't expect you here—and on a sailing ship, yet!”

The big man stepped proudly onto dry land. “There are many ways around the world—and we've just discovered a new one.”