The Map of All Things (23 page)

53
Ishalem

The explosion rolled out, and Kel Unwar watched from a safe distance as dust and shattered rock showered down. Clods of dirt pattered on the wooden slats of the covered supply shed in which Unwar stood. While his men flinched and covered their ears, Unwar merely watched. He smiled. “Soldan-Shah Omra is right. The firepowder changes everything.”

Shipments of raw chemicals arrived daily, mined and harvested from deposits scattered around Uraba. Since the firepowder was so volatile, the Saedran chemist Killin na-Fas manufactured great quantities right at the canal worksite, rather than transporting the dangerous mixed components.

When the brisk breezes cleared the smoke and dust, Unwar emerged from the shelter to survey the new wound in the isthmus. This was the sixth such crater excavated so far. Spaced close to one other, the pits formed a dotted line that marked the future path of the huge watercourse. The deep incision would cut off the continent of Tierra like a gangrenous leg.

Perhaps the whole landmass would sink. He hoped so. How he hated the Aidenists…

Unwar chased the work supervisors out of the slatted shelter. “Tell your men to take their shovels and clear the debris. Have the prisoners set up the next stack of firepowder barrels.” So far only one of the volatile kegs had exploded unintentionally. The unstable firepowder mix had killed three workers, but they were only Aidenists, and far enough away from the larger explosive stockpile to avert a complete disaster.

When the work leaders did not move fast enough for him, Unwar's temper exploded like firepowder. “Move, all of you—or you'll be in chains alongside the Tierrans! I can always use the extra labor.” The men scurried off, knowing that Unwar did not issue false threats.

He sat down in the shade of the supply shed, unrolling the terrain map of the isthmus. He calmed himself by studying the hills and trees, the gullies, the network of already dug canals that he intended to stitch together for this new waterway, as well as a swamp that could be flooded and a small lake deep enough to allow ship traffic. And several miles of new digging and blasting. Several segments of the excavation were happening at the same time.

Staring at the plans made his temper fade away. The project engrossed Unwar, challenged his abilities even more than the immense wall had. Concentrating on orderly plans had always helped him to control his emotions. In equations and blueprints he saw precision, clear answers, and a direct refutation of the barbaric hatred and violence of the Aidenists.

Wiping dust from a wooden writing surface, he used his protractor, straight edge, and abacus to map out blasting zones, add notations for work crews, and organize the excavation schedule for the next weeks. He calculated the amount of firepowder he would need and wrote urgent requisitions for the chemical ingredients that were still lacking. Sen Killin had sent orders many days earlier, but the Saedran chemist was ignored; Unwar, however, would make sure that
his
demands were met immediately, or the soldan-shah would hear about it.

In the middle of the isthmus, stony areas would require more blasting, while nearer the Middlesea coast the loose sand necessitated bricks or some kind of support to prevent the walls from washing away once the water began to flow. The completed canal would allow direct trade from the Middlesea to the western coastal cities of Khenara, Tenér, and Ouroussa, but Unwar's task was not to fill the pockets of merchants.

For him, the canal's greatest purpose was to allow the passage of an invincible war fleet. Displaying the Eye of Urec on their sails, the armored vessels would glide smoothly through and miraculously appear in the Oceansea, astonishing the unprepared Aidenists. The new warships could set fire to the entire coastline of Tierra and blockade Calay itself. He would hang Queen Anjine and the Aidenist prester-marshall on one of their own fishhooks. The thought pleased him greatly, but even that would not make up for what the 'Hooks had done to his sister.

Setting aside his plans and tools, Kel Unwar walked out into the bright sun. Seeing him, the work captains scurried about, yelling at the slave workers, but their progress still was not swift enough to satisfy him.

Astride fine Abilan horses, Soldan-Shah Omra led Asaddan and Shipkhan Ruad as they trotted along the enormous ditch Kel Unwar had dug. Below them, at the bottom of the trench, sweating slaves—some of them skeletal and ready to collapse—continued to dig, widening the channel. Only an hour before, an explosion had blasted another great crater.

“We never thought to use our firepowder like this, Soldan-Shah,” Asaddan said, whistling through his teeth. “Nunghal cannons are powerful enough to fend off sea serpents, but your ambitions belong on an entirely different level.”

Ruad made a comment in the Nunghal language, and Omra waited for the translation. “The shipkhan says that you should see all of his clan's sailing vessels. The Nunghal-Su have nearly a hundred vessels like the one we brought here. He calls it a city on the waves.” Asaddan lowered his voice, even though his companion couldn't understand him. “My cousin Ruad thinks a bit too much of his clan, but he's not exaggerating. He is already anxious to sail back home with his triumphant news.”

“Why so soon? You only just arrived.”

“
I'm
glad to be on solid ground again, where the only rocking motion comes from the horse or woman I'm riding. But Ruad wants the satisfaction of returning to his own clans with a tale that will earn his reputation back.”

Omra understood. “Who can blame him? He has done a singular thing.” The Nunghal shipkhan regarded them curiously, scowling when Asaddan did not immediately translate, but his companion ignored him. The soldan-shah continued, “Make sure he understands the significance of this, Asaddan. Once this canal is finished, your Nunghal ships can sail from the southern ocean to Lahjar, up the Uraban coast, and then into the Middlesea all the way to Olabar.”

“Oh, Ruad understands, Soldan-Shah.” When Ruad complained about not understanding the conversation, Asaddan shushed him. “He is about to become the richest shipkhan of the Nunghal-Su. We will come back, without doubt and as soon as possible. Now that we've discovered the sailing route, we'd better take advantage of it. We intend to arrive home in time for the next clan gathering. You'll give us a cargo of valuable, exotic items to entice them?”

“You shall have the best Uraban goods.” Wheels turned in the soldan-shah's mind as the three horses ambled along the side of the trench. He glanced up at the deceptively sunny sky. “And if a hundred Nunghal-Su clan vessels were to join with the Uraban navy… I would pay a handsome reward for their support. Will you convince him to join us?”

Ruad's interruption was sharp and impatient, demanding to know what the two men were talking about. When Asaddan quickly summarized their conversation, the shipkhan pursed his lips. Omra fidgeted as the two foreigners talked, and finally Asaddan said, “Ruad believes his fellow shipkhans could be convinced to join in a battle or two. It's an exercise they don't often have when sailing the southern ocean.”

Omra felt a weight lift from his shoulders as if new possibilities were the wings of birds.

54
The Al-Orizin

With Kiesh far behind them, the ship followed the sandy and uninviting coastline into silty waters. Standing on deck, always studying, Sen Sherufa watched the sea change from blue to green to murky brown. The knot in her stomach had not loosened in days as she watched the distant shoreline, knowing that each hour took her farther from her comfortable home.

But there was also excitement, and curiosity finally caught up with the Saedran woman.

Imir had given this voyage to her, thinking it a special favor. At first, she'd chalked it up as another reason not to accept his repeated marriage proposals, since he obviously knew so little about her. But then Sherufa began to wonder if he was genuinely doing this for her, to force her out of her shell, to push her out of her quiet, sheltered life… regardless of how much she
liked
her quiet life.

Sen Sherufa wished Imir had come along with them. She missed his laugh, his company, his interest in everything she had to say, his fascination with all the stories that she had to tell. He did make her feel safe, even when they were in far-off lands, crossing an unexplored landscape. If only he were here…

She would have to do her best alone on the
Al-Orizin
. No, not alone, she realized; Saan was also an excellent traveling companion.

In her own mind, she enlarged upon the Mappa Mundi. With Saan's permission, she had pored over the antique Map of Urec. Though it was an excellent chart, Sherufa could do nothing with it until she matched the landforms with her own knowledge. So much of the world remained a mystery….

Sikara Fyiri came out on deck, as she often did, to assess the men as though they were cattle. She had already taken several of the sailors as lovers, most frequently Grigovar, although the reef diver considered it
his
conquest rather than Fyiri's. Most priestesses took their first lovers when they were in early training, and Fyiri had already heaped scorn on Sen Sherufa for remaining a virgin so late in life. “It's an insult to the way Ondun created us.”

Sherufa had always been more interested in her books than in men. She had responded quickly and coolly, “Why do you complain, Sikara? My choice leaves you free to service every man aboard this ship without competition. You can have them all.”

The comment had not endeared her to the priestess, but she knew Imir would have loved it.

When the sun reached its zenith, Sherufa used her Saedran instruments to measure its position, carefully noting the time of the zenith. She added the detail to all of the other numbers in her head and frowned.

Each night she also studied the moon's path across the star patterns. Throughout the voyage, she had been comparing her mental charts and star positions with the carefully tracked sun's path. Today's measurement gave her the vital last piece she needed to evaluate a suspicion that had been building in her mind. Adding the data to the tomes of astronomical records she had memorized, Sen Sherufa realized that the paths of the sun and moon were intersecting, coming together above the
Al-Orizin
's course as the ship headed northeast into the expanse of the Middlesea.

Sherufa had heard of this phenomenon in the ancient writings, but no one in living memory had ever witnessed it. Lunar eclipses were common, when the full moon became dark and coppery, engulfed by an encroaching shadow. But this… this would happen in the daytime. In four days.

She looked up at a scattering of clouds that covered the sky, then set down her instruments. Noticing something in her expression, Saan asked what was bothering her and listened carefully as she explained her prediction. “You mean the sun will disappear in the sky?”

“All my measurements point to it, Captain. It's a natural phenomenon, but the crew is bound to be terrified, so we had better warn them.”

Fyiri pushed her way into their conversation. “An eclipse? Saedran nonsense.”

Saan scowled at her. “Sen Sherufa has a great deal of knowledge. I wouldn't call her ideas ‘nonsense.'”

Sherufa demurred. “No need to argue. We'll see in four days if I'm right.”

That evening, after the men sat down to eat their rations, Saan addressed them with Sherufa at his side. “Our chartsman believes we may encounter an eclipse in a few days. The sun will be dark for a time.”

“There's nothing to fear,” she assured them. “It is just an astronomical event, like a comet or a shooting star.”

“But comets and shooting stars are evil omens,” Grigovar said, mainly for the chuckles he elicited.

Fyiri stood at her cabin door, holding her copy of Urec's Log. “Ever since the chartsman made her ridiculous suggestion, I have studied the scripture for any entries that could relate to our situation. There is no basis whatsoever for such an eclipse. Do not listen to the Saedran—she does not share our faith.”

Sherufa, very much annoyed, did not back down. “This is not a matter of faith or scriptures. If you don't trust me to know the stars and our ship's position, then you should pick another chartsman.”

Three days later, the
Al-Orizin
sailed on under a bright sun—a sun that grew dimmer throughout the morning. The men began to whisper and point, squinting against the glare. “It is like a Leviathan in the sky, devouring the sun.” Grigovar was no longer joking.

“It is nothing of the sort,” Sherufa snapped. “It's the moon passing before the sun, just as if you put your big bulky body in front of mine, you'd block the light.”

Saan watched in awe as the sun dwindled in the sky. “This is truly a wonder, Sherufa—provided it goes away as quickly as you say.”

“I promise it will.”

Fyiri had shut herself into her cabin, but as more and more of the sun disappeared into shadow, the sailors pounded on her door, beseeching her to call upon Ondun for help. Sen Sherufa took no joy in being proved right.

Everyone aboard the
Al-Orizin
fell silent as the eclipse became total, leaving only an eerie pearlescent halo around what appeared to be an impenetrable hole where the sun had been. Grigovar actually held his breath.

Then a flare of dazzling light flashed from the opposite side of the moving shadow. The moon continued on its path, and the sun's light returned with full glory. The men cheered, some collapsing in relief. Saan hugged Sen Sherufa.

At last, Fyiri emerged from her cabin and proclaimed, “Take heed and be thankful. I have prayed to Ondun and Urec, and they have restored the sun to us. We will be safe now.”

Though Sherufa grimaced, she kept her comments to herself. Fyiri flashed the Saedran a nasty smile and retreated into her cabin.

55
The Dyscovera

At sunset Criston called all hands to the
Dyscovera
's deck. To him, the necessity of taking this action meant that he had failed as a captain.

On the orders of First Mate Kjelnar, the cowed prisoners were brought up from the brig. When Enoch Dey and Silam Henner saw Mia standing next to Javian, they glared at her, as if their current situation were her fault alone. She glared right back, saying nothing. The wound on her forehead had scabbed over, but a darkening bruise spread around the skin.

A hush fell when Criston spoke; he didn't need to raise his voice. “You two men know what you did. Mia told us of your crime. Prester Hannes and my own cabin boy witnessed it.”

“But I did nothing, Captain!” Silam moaned. “I was on watch!”

“Shut up!” Enoch growled. “The whore has told them lies.”

The other men began to shout, but Mia's mocking voice pierced the babble. “You tried to rape me—and that makes me a whore?”

“Quiet, all of you! Enough.” Criston's heart ached, and a slow drumbeat pounded in his ears. “Silam Henner, because of your part in this plan to harm a shipmate, you shall be bound to the mast and suffer twenty lashes, administered by First Mate Kjelnar.”

There was a soft indrawn gasp amongst the other crewmen; they knew that the skin on the man's back would be cut to ribbons before the first mate was through with the whip. Enoch Dey relaxed somewhat, however, as if suddenly taking hope. But that was short-lived.

“Your crime was far greater, Mr. Dey. Because you have broken Aiden's law, you will be cast out. Your place aboard this ship is forfeit.” He felt sick as he said it. “You will be thrown over the side. Let the ocean currents take you where they may.”

The man's jaw dropped. “No, Captain! I beg your forgiveness.”

“There can be no forgiveness for you.” Prester Hannes's instant venomous pronouncement shocked even Criston.

Enoch pleaded. “But she's a woman aboard our ship! What does she expect? By your own orders, Captain, we stripped her shirt, bared her breasts! We've been gone from land for months. How can any man—”

“You are not animals!” Hannes roared, stalking forward. “The Book of Aiden says, ‘He who harms any helpless woman or child shall be considered to have committed such crime tenfold.'” Enoch quailed, more terrified of the prester's wrath than of the captain's.

“I am the captain, and I have made my judgment.” It felt as if someone else were speaking the words. Criston jerked his hand toward the railing. “Enoch Dey, you will be cast overboard into the deep. Sentence to be carried out immediately.” The pronouncement came much more easily than he had expected, and he realized that he could do it again if he must.

The nervous sailors grumbled. Enoch struggled, his knees wobbly as he was dragged toward the back of the ship. “Mercy, Captain! Mercy, please!”

At the stern, the condemned man reached out beseechingly and grasped for the large fishhook pendant at Hannes's neck. “Give me Aiden's blessing, Prester! Grant me forgiveness!” The sailor's hands trembled so much that the barbed point of the hook cut into them.

Hannes pried the man's bleeding fingers away. “Forgiveness is not for me to dispense. You must ask Aiden yourself. You'll see him soon enough.”

Noting that many of the crewmen looked sidelong at Mia, blaming her, Criston snapped, “This woman is part of my crew, as you all are. A crime against her is a crime against all of you.”

“But we still don't know who she is! What if she's a
ra'vir
?” Enoch wailed. Kjelnar punched the man into silence.

“At least we know she is not a rapist,” Prester Hannes said.

Criston added, “I grant you this one mercy—it is your choice. Will you take a stone?”

Enoch's face turned gray; sweat streamed down his forehead. He waited a long moment before he nodded. “Yes, Captain, I'll take a stone.”

Javian solemnly lifted one of the spare weight blocks that attached to the depth-sounding ropes. After being thrown overboard, a man could drift for days in the watery emptiness, fighting the waves, starvation, dehydration, sharks, sea serpents. It would be a long, slow death… unless he chose to hold on to a weight, which would drag him down until he drowned. It would be swift, and far kinder than dying in pieces.

Javian extended the flat round stone. The condemned sailor stared as if he couldn't remember what it was for, then reached out to take it.

“May the Compass guide you,” Criston said.

Enoch stared over the railing, as the deepening dusk seeped out of the sky, giving way to night. He waited for so long that the hushed crewmen began to mutter. Kjelnar stepped forward, squaring his chest, ready to throw the man overboard if he wouldn't go willingly.

With a last defiant glare toward Mia, Enoch Dey stepped onto the rail, clutched the stone tightly to his chest, and jumped off. He landed with a splash. Watching with all the other crew, Criston saw him disappear at once, descending into the depths, dragged down by the stone he held.

“May the Compass guide us all,” Criston said again.

Silam Henner fell to the deck, sobbing.

Criston had hoped to feel the heaviness lifted from him now that the decision was made and carried out, but he felt no pleasure, no satisfaction. Javian and Mia stood together, surrounded by a protective silence. The young woman did not appear vindicated or pleased. Hannes held his fishhook pendant and meticulously wiped off the specks of blood from the cast-out man's fingers.

With another splash, far behind the ship, Enoch burst to the surface once more, gulping great breaths of air, gasping as he flailed his hands. “Help! Come back! Save me, please!”

“I should have known he wouldn't have the courage,” Mia said.

The other men began to mutter uneasily.

“Save me!” Enoch's voice degenerated into wordless shrieks.

Each cry from the condemned man thrust like a blade into Criston's gut. They could easily drop anchor and send out the ship's boat. After this ordeal, the man would cause no further trouble.

Prester Hannes, perhaps sensing his doubts, said in a low voice, “If you lose your resolve now, Captain, what lesson do you teach the rest of the faithful? For the sake of your ship and for our mission, you cannot be lenient.”

Criston looked at him. “You can say that? Enoch was one of the most devout followers of your dawn services.”

Hannes shrugged. “By breaking Aiden's law, he proved that he was not a true follower.”

The wails were growing fainter now. “Save me…”

The
Dyscovera
sailed on into the deepening night, and Criston walked heavily toward the three compasses mounted next to the captain's wheel, trying to shut out all of his unsettled thoughts.

Before long, the sigh of waves and rustle of sailcloth enveloped and smothered the ever-diminishing pleas for help.