The Map of All Things (31 page)

74
The Great Desert

Traveling with a large caravan, Adreala enjoyed the rolling countryside of the Missinia soldanate while her grandfather regaled the merchants with stories of his journeys. Adreala had heard the tales before, but she listened anyway with a new perspective. She was on an adventure herself now. Whenever she got hot, dusty, or uncomfortable, she reminded herself that her sisters were spending their days in the church studying Urec's Log. Compared to that, even the biting flies were tolerable.

They arrived at Desert Harbor near sunset. Imir pointed out a cluster of sturdy canvas tents, a few pavilions of colorful silk, and three permanent structures made of wood and stone. He explained to Adreala that the population of the camp town had swelled in preparation for the next departure of sand coracles as soon as the winds turned.

“Each year this place grows busier and busier.” Imir nodded with satisfaction. “I see we have fifteen coracles ready to go—five brand new, and ten repaired and refurbished.”

The soldan's son Burilo, who administered the camp town, emerged from the main building and regarded Adreala in surprise. He had tried to grow a full beard, but it remained patchy, though well combed. “So, this gangly girl is my cousin? Ah, I remember Omra was scrawny when he was your age, too.”

Adreala returned his teasing. “Would you rather I was a fat horse-maiden? Then I'd never fit in a saddle, and I intend to travel far and wide.”

Soldan Xivir came strutting up, guiding Imir and Adreala to the main administrative house. “I promise you a fine meal and a comfortable bed—enjoy it. Aboard a sand coracle, you'll barely have room to stand, much less sleep.”

Throughout dinner, Imir continued to tell stories about his adventures among the Nunghals, bragging that he was the first true Uraban ever to gaze upon the southern ocean. But Adreala had heard a different version of the events from Saan. “I thought my brother and Sen Sherufa were the first to see the ocean. Didn't you come up afterward, Grandfather?”

Imir flushed. “A matter of semantics, my dear girl. Sherufa is a Saedran, and Saan—much as I love the boy—has a Tierran mother. And so, by default, I am the first true
Uraban
to have laid eyes upon the new sea.” Adreala rolled her eyes at the frivolous distinction.

Later, her grandfather tucked her in as if she were a little girl, but Adreala didn't mind. She found the attentions comforting. Though tired, she slept restlessly, excited about the impending dangerous voyage across the Great Desert. Despite all his exuberance for the upcoming trip, Imir slept deeply and Adreala could hear him snoring in the next room.

Just before dawn, she crawled out of bed and pulled on her traveling clothes. She stood outside in the dry coolness, watching the first faint light of dawn seep into the eastern sky. Lamps burned in a few of the pavilions, in the windows of the main offices, and the cookhouse. A handful of early risers worked among the coracle baskets, which had been packed with cargo and supplies the previous evening. Two groggy merchants went in search of cookfires where they could find a cup of tea to accompany their morning meal.

As daylight brightened and people began to stir, Adreala watched the glow of a burnished gold sunrise spill across the dunes. She saw movement. Silhouetted figures rose like ants from behind the sandy slopes. Men on horses. First a dozen, then twenty, then more, in a long line. At least a hundred riders gathered there at the desert's edge, looking toward the camp city.

At first she thought they must be riders that Burilo had sent out to patrol the wasteland, but something seemed ominous about this group. Finally a merchant pointed them out to one of the local workers, and the man yowled an alarm. “Urec protect us—bandits!
Bandits!
We're under attack!”

The alarm acted as a signal to the strange riders. Adreala heard their leader whistle, and with a loud rumble the line of bandits rode down into the camp. The girl added her own screams of warning as the people in Desert Harbor scrambled about in panic. Guards, merchants, and harbor workers burst out of their pavilions and tents, grabbing weapons.

The bandits charged into the camp, slashing with swords, shooting arrows, creating total chaos. They kicked at campfires, hacked down tents, killed anyone in their way. Behind the first group of raiders came a second line of fifty men, carrying torches. Whooping, laughing, and goading each other, the bandits threw the burning torches onto the pavilions, igniting the cloth. With shouted curses, men scrambled to and fro, trying to save what they could.

Adreala saw that the raiders' target was the cluster of fifteen sand coracles that were packed and ready for departure. Striking down any man who stood in their way, the horsemen tossed fiery brands into the wicker baskets. The silk balloon sacks caught fire, and the flames grew larger and hungrier.

Adreala looked desperately for somewhere to hide in the turmoil. Burilo, Soldan Xivir, and her grandfather burst out of the main building and tried to rally the guards. Waving to get their attention, Adreala heard a galloping horse close by and turned to see a hideous rider bearing down on her. He had black paint on his face and clumps of red dye in his matted hair. His sword was raised, his eyes wide and gleeful, but when he saw her, he thrust the scimitar back in his sash and swooped an arm down to grab her.

Adreala crouched, ready to fight, although she had no weapon. She tried to jump out of the way, but the bandit second-guessed her. As his horse thundered past, he grabbed her roughly by the waist and threw her like a rolled rug onto the saddle in front of him. She struggled, but he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back so fiercely that the pain sent a thunderclap through her skull. She tried to claw him, but his grip was like iron. The horse kept running.

Attackers poured through the camp in an unstoppable wave. Another bandit rode up alongside, regarding her with scorn. “She's a child, Norgo—why waste time on her? Slit her throat and save the weight for supplies we can steal.”

The painted bandit growled, “Think about it—why would a
girl
be here? Must be someone important.”

“You have sand in your brain. Do what you will. I'm grabbing more wineskins.” The other bandit peeled off. Many of their comrades continued to wreak destruction. When Desert Harbor was in flames and bodies lay strewn on the ground, they all wheeled around and raced back into the open dunes, their horses laden with wine, food, and stolen goods.

Behind them, all fifteen sand coracles were engulfed in fire and smoke.

75
Southern Ocean

Though Asaddan still suffered from bouts of seasickness, the return voyage was far less harrowing than their uncertain outbound trip. This time, they knew the voyage was
possible
. At Ishalem, Soldan-Shah Omra had filled their cargo hold with exotic goods to awe and tempt the other Nunghal-Su. Considering the gold, jewels, and silk fabrics stowed belowdecks, Asaddan concluded that the results were worth a few weeks of discomfort and nausea. Every man aboard was going to be rich upon returning to the Nunghal clans.

Triumphant, Shipkhan Ruad was an entirely different person from the man who had been disgraced by the wreck of his ship. Now his crew treated him as a hero, forgetting his mistakes. Ruad loved to stand at the bow of the ship, looking at the curling waves and daydreaming.

Asaddan stood beside his Nunghal cousin. “Aren't you glad you listened to my advice and dared to take this voyage? You'll be celebrated among the clans—you know that, don't you?”

“That was my plan, friend. There's gold and jewels in our treasure chests, but I'll take my treasure in respect and prestige among the Nunghal-Su.”

“Oh, does that mean you grant me your share of the profits?”

Ruad laughed. “I wouldn't go
that
far!”

They voyaged south for weeks and rounded the coast, heading east until they entered familiar waters. After dispersing from a clan gathering, Nunghal-Su ships wandered the waters in a loose confederation, living off of the sea.

Ruad's ship finally encountered a group of fourteen vessels from allied families. The shipkhan sent up signal flags to request a meeting of clan elders. Some of the other shipkhans were gruff or skeptical, making snide comments. “So, Ruad, lost any ships lately?”

But Ruad paraded across the deck of his own ship, wearing colorful clothing given to him by the soldan-shah. “I lost nothing and gained much. My ship voyaged far past any explored coastline, headed north, and discovered a route to the land of Uraba.”

One of the captains scoffed. “Did you find sea witches and mermaids as well?”

“I was too busy filling my cargo hold with riches. Would you like to see?” Planting his hands on his hips, Ruad commanded his sailors to carry a sample of the chests over to the other ship to show the bounty Omra had given him. “Uraba is a wealthy land, and the people are eager to trade with us. I can lead you there, if you're interested in being rich.”

The proof of Ruad's claims immediately changed the attitude of the clan elders. He continued to tempt them with the promise of riches. “We braved the unknown and marked our charts. Soldan-Shah Omra and the Urabans are our friends and allies—not to mention rich trading partners. Once we reprovision, I intend to go back there. We invite you to accompany us—if you have the balls for it. I promised the soldan-shah we'd bring more Nunghals next time, but if the dangers worry you too much…”

“The Urabans are in the middle of a war and need fighters,” Asaddan interjected. “The soldan-shah promises to pay well for any man who is not afraid of an adventure.”

“This will require a council meeting.” One of the stern older shipkhans shook his head. “That isn't where we had planned to sail.”

Ruad rolled his eyes with a confident, lighthearted disrespect he would never have dared show the elders before. “And where did you plan to sail? Nowhere! I know what courses you set. Your families move across the waters like aimless buffalo move across the plains. Why not choose a destination with a purpose?”

Next to Ruad, Asaddan gave a nonchalant shrug. “Of course, if
you're
not interested, we'll find other Nunghal-Su ships whose shipkhans are fond enough of profits.”

Ruad directed his sailors to pack up the samples of treasure, then he and Asaddan headed back to their own ship. When they were out of earshot, the shipkhan whispered enthusiastically to his friend, “They will join us—I saw it in their eyes!”

“Why stop there? There must be other groups out in the waters. Let's assemble the largest flotilla possible.”

“By our course, I can make sure we encounter more clan groupings before we head for Lahjar again. By the time we leave, even those who don't decide to go with us will have heard of my travels. The story will spread, and the rumors will grow. The great Shipkhan Ruad—
that's
what I want.”

Asaddan chuckled. “In that case, cousin, I shall help spread the rumors myself.”

76
The
Dyscovera

Rising up from the waves, the black-and-gold serpent blasted spray from its blowhole. Its jagged fins sawed like notched sword blades through the waves as it warily circled the
Dyscovera
. The creature looked exactly like the one that had attacked Criston in the wreckage of the
Luminara
, devoured poor Prester Jerard, and dragged the rickety raft for leagues across the uncharted sea.

He raced across the deck, yelling, “Damn you and your kind!” He kept a white-knuckled grip on his dagger, ready to stab the monster if it should snatch him from the deck. “Grab your bows and harpoons! When it gets closer, aim for the soft flesh inside its maw!”

“I don't want to
see
the inside of its mouth,” Kjelnar growled as he knocked off the lock to the weapons storage chest.

Sailors scrambled to grab bows and arrows as the first mate handed them around. Without any sort of military precision, the men strung the bows, nocked arrows, and let fly even as the sea serpent threw out another challenge. The shafts bounced off the ebony scales, provoking the creature to rush closer in a froth of splashing foam.

At a run, Prester Hannes bolted past Criston to the bow, his countenance ablaze with fervent purpose. The wind flapped his clothes, and he clenched his fishhook pendant. “By the power of Aiden, I command thee
begone
!” From memory, he shouted out verses from the Book of Aiden that included stern invocations against evil.

The creature lurched toward the
Dyscovera
like a serpentine spear. Seeing the telltale lash of its head, Criston yelled, “Brace yourselves! It'll charge.” The archers loosed another volley; this time one of the shafts struck inside the monster's mouth, which only enraged it further.

But as it drew close, the sea serpent thrashed and hesitated, raising its long and supple body high out of the water. It stopped its charge, as if it had run up against an unseen barrier.

Kjelnar pointed wildly toward the
Dyscovera
's bow. “The horn! Look at Raathgir's horn!” The milky, knurled shaft shone with a cold blue luminescence.

The monster thrashed from side to side, intimidated. It was close enough that Criston could see runnels of water pouring from its black-and-gold scales, but it could not cause any damage. The beast opened its mouth, as if its jaw had come unhinged. Its forked tongue flailed back and forth like a whip, but it refused to come closer to the glowing horn.

Etched with verses from the Book of Aiden, the relic was connected through sympathetic magic to its counterpart on the altar in the main kirk in Calay. Until now, Criston had not entirely believed Iborian tales of the ice dragon's magic, but the power came from somewhere—protecting the ship from the sea serpent.

Criston stood at the side of the ship, staring it down, looking right into the slit of its reptilian eye. He had seen an eye like that, much too close, just before a similar beast had killed kindly old Prester Jerard. Criston did not waver now.

The monster strained against the invisible barrier, but could not attack as the
Dyscovera
sailed on. Defeated, the thwarted serpent snorted an indignant burst from its blowhole and dropped its head into the water again, cutting a path in the opposite direction as it sank slowly.

Laughing, the Iborian shipwright hammered his chest with one fist. “Raathgir has protected us!”

Prester Hannes looked patiently at the first mate and gave a slow shake of his head. “It wasn't your superstition about the horn but my prayers that drove the monster away.”

Criston intervened before the two could argue. “We are protected by the grace of Ondun, whatever form it may take. What matters is that the
Dyscovera
is safe, and we can continue our voyage.”