The Map of All Things (40 page)

96
Calay Castle

Buried in grief, anger, and regret, Anjine stopped noticing the sun in the sky, the changing weather, or the dark clouds of a large storm approaching from the Oceansea. By now, she was sure the horrific deed must be done—she could count on Mateo. She couldn't change her mind, couldn't call him back… didn't want to.

He had tried to talk her out of it—begged her, in fact, to reconsider—but she had refused. It might not have been the right decision, but it was the only decision she would consider.

Anjine had not held court for nearly two weeks, preferring to remain in her private chambers. She didn't want to face any unwanted but well-meaning visitors. She could not bear their sympathy or grief, their growls of outrage, or their vows of vengeance upon the enemy. She was the queen. She wore the crown. She had made her decision.

Anjine climbed the dusty stone stairs to the tower room where King Korastine had kept Aiden's Compass for so many years. Without the Compass, the room was just a dusty chamber with narrow windows that overlooked the harbor. Her cat followed her, wanting attention but also showing her a kind of love that none of her other subjects did. It was what she needed. She scratched Tycho's ears absently, and he lifted his head to accept the affection.

In the upper room, she stood at the segmented panes of glass, surprised by a sky knotted with black clouds. Safe and sheltered in the castle, Anjine had been unaware of the worsening weather. But she saw that down at the bustling harbor, ships were already lashed tightly to the docks, their sails tied up securely. As she noted the activity, she wondered how long the storm had been brewing.

Sen Leo na-Hadra knew exactly where to find her.

The Saedran scholar had been a close friend to her father and tried to continue in that role with the queen. Anjine appreciated the old man's advice, though she had not been in the mood for company, conversation, or counsel since the Uraban emissary had delivered his answer onto the floor of the throne room.

She hadn't been in the mood for much of anything at all.

Sen Leo cleared his throat at the doorway to the tower room. “Majesty, I must speak with you. I sympathize with your grief and anger, just as I shared Korastine's pain after the death of Ilrida. I understand how difficult this is, but the people have not seen you for days. As queen, you don't have the luxury of uninterrupted grief, as a normal person does. As your heart goes, so goes the entire kingdom—and Tierra cannot afford empty despair. Not now.”

Anjine's eyes were burning and puffy, yet she couldn't remember the last time she had actually cried. No matter which direction she looked, she was confronted by memories of Tomas. How she wished Mateo could be here with her. But she had sent him away….

Her expression hardened. “So you think I ask my subjects to indulge me too much?”

Sen Leo scratched his gray beard. “No, my Queen, but I do think you need to open your eyes and heed what is occurring around you. I care about you. You have lost your father to illness, your brother to unspeakable crime, but you still have your people. They need you to be strong, to care for them, to be a true leader. Tierra is beset by threats other than the Urecari.”

She stiffened coldly at that. “What threats?”

“Majesty! Have you not looked outside? The hurricane has been approaching for days. Ships raced in from the Oceansea seeking the protection of Calay harbor. Fishermen report horrific winds and waves far out at sea, worse than anything they've seen in generations. And the storm is coming here. My Queen, Calay has to prepare, or we'll all be washed away. You must call out the city guard, issue instructions, have your city hunker down, so that it can survive the whirlwind that is to come.”

Tycho strolled up to the Saedran scholar, but the old man gracefully dodged him. Anjine picked up the cat, held him close, and he melted into her arms, where he belonged. “If Ondun is lashing out at us with a storm, how can I stand against His will?”

“Ondun would be happy for us to prepare and take care of ourselves. Here is what Guard-Marshall Vorannen can order.” The scholar ticked off items on his fingers. “First, we should reinforce the dockside buildings and warehouses, batten everything down, shutter the windows. All the ships in port must prepare for the gale. Vorannen should send the entire city guard out to assist the people. And you must give them strength and encouragement, too. Dark days are ahead of us.”

His words were just noises, and she could not grasp the relevance. “Dark days are already here.” Keeping her back to him, Anjine stared out at the dark clouds, trying to imagine the howling gales and turbulent waters that were churning the depths of the Oceansea. “The storm only mirrors what I feel in my heart. Maybe I even summoned it myself.”

“I don't believe that, my Queen—and neither do you. The people grieve with you for the loss of Prince Tomas, but please don't let them lose everything else. Summon the resources of the city!”

She thought of sailing away herself, as her father had always longed to do, aboard a large, beautiful vessel that simply charted a course to the edge of the world—perhaps going beyond the boundaries of all maps and looking for Terravitae… as the
Dyscovera
had done. Thinking of the ship, she felt a new fear. “How far might this storm reach? What about Captain Vora and the
Dyscovera
?”

Sen Leo gave her a reassuring nod. “For now the ship is safe. I checked the model in its warehouse building, and there's not a splinter or thread out of place. After months of sailing, the
Dyscovera
should be far beyond the reach of this storm. But we do need to protect the model from any damage the storm could cause. I added reinforcements to the walls, doors, and shutters, and the building is as strong as we can make it.”

“Then how far will this storm reach?”

“All of our signs and weather instruments show it could be the worst storm in generations. It will affect the entire Tierran coastline.”

A chill ran down Anjine's back as she pictured Mateo having to struggle through the gale to come home to her. But he wouldn't let a mere storm stop him… even after what she had asked him to do.

Shifting Tycho in her arms, she turned to the Saedran scholar. “Very well, Sen Leo. Your wisdom is clear, as always. Call Marshall Vorannen and tell him, on my authority, to dispatch all of the city guard to assist in making necessary preparations. And before the worst weather hits I will walk through the city and address the people, encourage them, strengthen their resolve. It's time they see they have a queen again.”

97
The
Dyscovera

Javian called down from the lookout nest, “Captain Vora, there's something ahead!”

After long weeks with no land in sight, and not even an encounter with sea serpents to interrupt the monotony, the crew scurried across the deck, shading their eyes to peer off into the waters. Criston shouted up, “What is it—a reef? An island?”

Javian paused a long time, staring through the spyglass. “No, sir—it looks like… towers! Buildings under the water!”

Kjelnar brayed with laughter. “Towers? The boy's gone sunblind.”

Criston placed his own battered spyglass to his eye, swung the lens across the water ahead, and frowned. Near the horizon, he did see pointed objects protruding from the waves… artificial structures. Rooftops? Pinnacles? He suspected it was just a cluster of weirdly shaped coral or pointed rocks, but he couldn't be sure. “Kjelnar, set our course three points to port. We came out here to see what there is to see.”

Prester Hannes joined them. “Perhaps this is a signpost that Aiden left to guide us to Terravitae. If that tower is the Lighthouse at the End of the World, then our quest may be at an end.”

The Saedran chartsman joined him, his face filled with curiosity. “Isn't that just a legend?”

“Many things sound like legends to unbelievers,” Hannes said with a sour expression.

“I'm not an unbeliever,” Aldo said in a mild tone. “I just don't believe what you believe.” He had always enjoyed sparring with Sen Leo na-Hadra, but Prester Hannes seemed to find it more annoying than intellectually stimulating.

Aldo ignored the prester's pinched expression and continued to stare toward the distant structures. Since sailing beyond the reach of his known charts, he'd had little to do. Each day Aldo took measurements of the sun's zenith and marked the stars at night, but the constellations had long since shifted out of their familiar patterns. After such a long voyage, he had little to show for their explorations other than a map of empty waters.

Appearing suddenly alongside the ship, lissome gray forms rose in graceful arcs, then dove again. Mia called from the starboard rail, “Look at the dolphins. Dozens of them!”

As the
Dyscovera
turned toward the sunken towers, the dolphins followed them all the way like a formal escort, bounding through the waters and then streaking ahead. The sailors cheered them, laughing. They all felt excited, optimistic. Seamen had long considered dolphins to be good luck.

Even with fractured sunlight reflecting from the waves, Criston could discern structures under the water—geometrical shapes in the crystalline depths, large buildings many fathoms down. A… sunken city. The pointed structures protruding from the surface became the tops of ornate spires that reached out of the water, the tallest of which appeared to be the peak of a great palace.

Kjelnar climbed to the prow, leaning out over the ice-dragon horn to peer downward. “Careful there! Edge a bit starboard—I'll not have my
Dyscovera
wrecked because one of you sailed her into the top of a building!”

The dolphins encircled the
Dyscovera
with chattering laughter. Shimmering forms streaked through the water around the buildings, darting to and fro… but they did not look like fish. Mia called out, “Captain, do you see it?”

“I'm not sure what I'm seeing.”

After swimming around the ship one more time, still frolicking, the dolphins dove beneath the waves, where the depths distorted their forms. A few moments later, figures splashed to the surface, astounding the crew.
Human figures
. Young men and women, barely clothed, dove and splashed and peered up at the large sailing ship.

Reeling back from the sight, Prester Hannes made a warding sign and grasped his fishhook pendant. “If they are demons of the deep, we must fight them. The Book of Aiden warns us about deceivers.”

Kjelnar paced up and down the deck, alert and suspicious. “I've heard stories of merfolk, Captain. They tempt ships onto the rocks, get them lost in storms.”

But Criston heard no threat in the voices as they laughed and called out in an eerie, musical language. “Don't forget why we came, Hannes, and what we are charged to do. These are all children of Ondun. Aren't you curious to learn what they know of Aiden's original voyage?”

The prester frowned at the captain in surprise. “We already know everything we need to know. Aiden left it for us.” His brow furrowed as he studied the swimming people. “I cannot tell if they are ignorant savages who need saving, or if they are already damned—like the Urecari.”

Criston was not concerned. “We'll be cautious, but I won't pass up a chance like this. Maybe these people can tell us the way to Terravitae.” He raised his voice. “Drop sails! And keep a sharp eye out.”

The sunken city was all around and below them now. The buildings were made of ancient stone marked with unusual glyphs and designs, ornamented with scrollwork. Everything seemed perfectly intact, as if someone took care of it.

Scrutinizing the marks on the towers, Aldo na-Curic straightened in shock. “Captain, I—I recognize that writing! The letters are archaic, but there's no doubt…” He blinked. “They're
Saedran
, sir! This city, those buildings—they're of Saedran origin!”

Below, the swimmers continued to laugh and wave and chatter amongst themselves. Aldo shook his head in wonder. “I have heard the stories all my life, but I thought they were just fanciful tales. Now it's true—it's true! This city—everything that lies beneath us—is the original Saedran continent that sank beneath the waves ages ago.”

98
Iyomelka's Island

After so long at sea, the
Al-Orizin
sailors were excited to set foot on dry land again, and the two longboats made several trips, delivering parties for shore leave. The old crone and her willowy daughter welcomed the visitors, offering a bounty of fresh fruits and fish, but the men had had enough of fish. Laughing, they ventured into the forests and soon returned with a wild boar, which they roasted over coals in a pit.

Iyomelka happily tore into the meat with her crooked teeth. “What a feast! Ystya and I are unable to hunt such large game.”

Saan took every opportunity to flirt with beautiful Ystya, whose shy innocence fascinated him in a way that typical Uraban girls did not. Her features were neither Uraban nor Tierran, but he was attracted by more than her exotic beauty. Growing up in the soldan-shah's palace, Saan himself had always felt like an outsider because of his blond hair and blue eyes. He knew what it was like to be different, to be considered strange among other people. This young woman, with her ivory locks plaited with green strands, combined the wide-eyed charm of a newborn fawn with the majesty of a princess.

He relaxed next to the young woman as they ate their roast boar. “If you like this meat, just wait until we take you and your mother back to Olabar. You'll have all the delicious feasts civilization can provide. Our master chefs make honeyed lamb skewers, roast game hens stuffed with preserved lemons, and pastries you can't even imagine.”

Grigovar let out a sound that was halfway between a groan and a sigh. “Stop, Captain! We still have a long voyage ahead of us—and only ship's rations.”

Saan moved closer to Ystya. “But I'm just getting started. There's a whole world to describe to this girl.” Entirely unaccustomed to so much attention, the young woman listened with fascination to Saan's stories.

“Careful, Captain,” Yal Dolicar said around a mouthful of savory roast boar. “With all the treasure on this island, they could
buy
the Olabar palace directly from your father. When we take them from this island, we'll have to make room in our cargo hold for all the gold and jewels. These two will be fabulously wealthy from the moment they set foot on Uraban soil.”

Iyomelka turned with narrowed eyes toward Saan. “Do not believe us ungrateful, Captain, but Ystya and I have no wish to be rescued. As remarkable as your coming may be, this island is our home.”

Saan used as much charm as he knew, grasping Ystya's slender hand. “It is a crime to keep such a lovely young woman away from the rest of the world. She needs to be with people her own age. She needs to have a life of her own. We can show her the world. You would not keep your own daughter from that?”

The old woman said, “Ystya is unlike other young women. You misunderstand, Captain. I brought her to this island for a reason.”

Dolicar nearly choked. “You
want
to be stranded?”

“Why do you assume that we are stranded?”

“We thought you were shipwrecked,” Grigovar said.

“Oh, those other ships crashed on the reefs much later,” Ystya said gently. “My mother came here quite intentionally. And my father joined us later.”

Sen Sherufa frowned in puzzlement. She had been listening and observing, but holding her silence. “Some of those wrecks are centuries old. Exactly how long have you been here?”

Iyomelka avoided the question. “When time matters not, one stops marking it.”

Sikara Fyiri's question was much more of a challenge. “Have you been able to study Urec's Log? Do you follow his teachings?”

The old crone laughed derisively, tossing aside a bone. “His teachings? We came here long before Urec and Aiden sailed on their little boats.”

Yal Dolicar nearly choked on his food. Even he wouldn't have made such an outrageous claim. “I find that hard to believe.”

Iyomelka stroked her daughter's long silken hair, adjusting the seaweed plaits. “Whatever you believe, another person will believe something else. My husband and I left the rest of the world and came here… where we meant to raise our only daughter. You will see that this island is endowed with an aura of power.”

Fyiri rose to her feet, her demeanor confrontational. “If you know Urec and Aiden, do you know Ondun, then?”

Iyomelka made a dismissive gesture. “My husband's name was Ondun—but that was long ago.”

Grigovar laughed aloud. “Now
that
is quite a tale!”

Iyomelka's expression darkened. “Guests should not speak ill of their hosts.”

“And you should not speak sacrilege against Ondun and Urec,” Fyiri snapped.

Saan cut her off before the discussion could escalate. “We meant no offense, Iyomelka, but you must admit that your claim is difficult to believe. You've been on this island longer than all of recorded history?”

“Longer than
your
recorded history.” The withered crone did look as if she could be thousands of years old.

Young Ystya said in a mild tone, “Just because something is difficult to believe does not make it untrue. I have been here as long as I can remember. Who is to say how long that has been?”

Iyomelka regarded all of them as though they were mere children and she a teacher who had almost given up on them. “The wellspring of this island's power originated from my husband. His whole body was infused with it, and he could create things, change things. I had powers, too, but he was by far the stronger.” She gazed wistfully up at the sky. “After many millennia, even the greatest love fades, and here all alone on this island, he and I eventually grew tired of each other. But now I miss him very much.”

“What happened to him, then?” Saan asked. Fyiri looked greatly offended, not wanting to hear the answer at all because it contradicted her core faith.

The old woman levered herself to her feet, leaving the rest of the boar carcass over the still-warm coals. “Follow me to our spring at the heart of the island. Then you will know why I am so old, and why… much has changed over the centuries.”

Iyomelka moved through the jungle at a surprisingly rapid clip, following a well-worn path flanked by crowded weeds. Saan walked at the head of the group, curious to see what the old woman had to show them, and Ystya stayed close to him.

Iyomelka continued to talk, over her shoulder, as she brushed leaves and vibrant flowers aside. “The soul of this island is contained in a spring of pure water that bubbles up from great depths. For most of our lives, after Ondun came here to join us, my husband, my daughter, and I took our water from this source, and it kept us young and powerful and content.”

As the path wound uphill through thick underbrush, it gave way to pale limestone outcroppings. Iyomelka took them to the top of a rise, the crest of which had been cleared of vegetation, where lovingly placed white rocks encircled a hole seven feet wide.

When Saan peered over the edge, he saw that the hole vanished into darkness, like an empty well. The old woman stood at his side, regarding the dry shaft. “This spring was once a silvery fountain, a bubbling source of life—and death. My husband fell into the spring and sank to the bottom. He drowned, and his body still lies there, far below.” She didn't seem much bothered by the fact. “However, the magic in his body infused the water, so when Ystya and I partook from the well and bathed in it, the water revitalized us, nourished us, restored our youth.”

Iyomelka knelt at the edge. “But you can see something has changed. The water level in the spring dropped, and we can no longer purify ourselves. That is the only reason I have begun to grow old. Ystya remained a mere child for countless centuries, an innocent young girl, such a joy… and now, as you can see, she's matured.”

Saan looked admiringly at the young woman. “Yes, I can see that very well.”

Dolicar grinned. “Well, the passage of many years does tend to make one grow old.”

“The passage of years had no effect on me, until the water was gone,” Iyomelka retorted.

Sen Sherufa made no comment, taking in the information; Fyiri, though, did not hide her scorn. “Foolish superstition. That is not the way the blessings of Ondun are given to humans.”

“And who said we were human, Priestess? Ystya and I weren't created in the same way as the rest of you.”

The haughty sikara was not at all intimidated. “Perhaps the spring dried up because of your false beliefs—as a retaliation from the true creator. A curse.”

The crone lowered her gaze. “Perhaps there was a cause. Perhaps there was a retaliation. I do not know why the magic faded, why it forsook us. But see what has become of me.” Iyomelka indicated her wrinkled, spotted hands, her large-knuckled fingers, then turned her imploring gaze to Saan. “That is why I cannot leave this island, Captain Saan, because the last remnants of power here are the only things that keep me as strong as I am.”

Yal Dolicar dropped a pebble down the well, listening as it plunked into water far below. The splash was quite clear, amplified by the narrow stone walls. “Ah, there
is
still a spring down below. Maybe we can lower a bucket?”

“It would not be enough,” Iyomelka said. “The water level continues to drop.”

As the others crowded around the well, Dolicar whispered to Saan, “Captain, we might have an opportunity here. The old woman is convinced, yes, but… just because the spring is drying up doesn't mean there's a curse, or any kind of magical explanation. We could rig a rope and have someone climb down to investigate. There might be a blockage we could fix.” He shrugged. “If it's a fountain of youth, shouldn't we try it for ourselves? I'd give it a go.”

Saan called out to the old woman, but directed his smile toward Ystya. “Iyomelka, I have a proposal for you. If my men and I discover a way to make the water flow again, would you be grateful for that?” He glanced at Dolicar, knowing full well what the other man would do. “Would you offer us some kind of reward?”

The crone's expression was of hope laced with caution. “Captain, if you can fix the spring for us, I will let you take any treasure on this entire island.”

“Any treasure?”

Grigovar and Yal Dolicar gasped and clapped. “Now that's a worthy incentive!”

“Any treasure,” the old woman said, “so long as you and your ship are on your way afterward. This place is not for you.”