A Secret Atlas (42 page)

“Surely I can do something. What was it that earned your ire?”

Qiro smiled slowly and Nirati felt ice trickle through her belly. She’d intervened with her

grandfather for Lord Phoesel as a favor to Junel. But Qiro did not like how Lord Phoesel

had used Nirati to get to him, and the man would be made to pay.

“My dear Lord Phoesel, you made a contract with the House of Tilmir to supply charts for

the
Gold Crane
. Your ship was bound to Nysant—following curiously close in

the
Stormwolf
’s wake.”

“Grandmaster, my ship was not following the expedition.
Gold Crane
will sail west to

Aefret.”

“Regardless, you made a contract with a house that rivals mine. A house of inferior

cartography.”

The man bowed deeply. “Yes, Grandmaster, I have discovered this, and this is why I am

here. I hoped I could obtain from you new charts and have them put aboard the
Swift
. It will sail after
Gold Crane
.”

Qiro examined a fingernail. “That might be possible. There will be the matter of payment.”

“Yes, Grandmaster. I will have to pay Tilmir something, but I will yet be able to pay you

your customary rate.”

The corners of Qiro’s mouth curled up. “It will be thirty percent of your total return. Your

expenses are not my concern.”

“Th-thirty percent?” Lord Phoesel shook his head. “But you normally take only fifteen, and

that after expenses.”

“This is an emergency, Marutsar, and you know it. Your
Silver Gull
was using Tilmir charts and ran into a shoal off Miromil. If you can refloat the ship, it will not be before next spring.

There are other hidden dangers out there, and you can’t afford to lose
Gold Crane
.”

“But this is extortion!”

“Hardly. I am doing you a favor.”

“A favor?” Lord Phoesel came up on one knee, color darkening his face. “After all our

families have meant to each other,
this
is a favor?”

Qiro shot to his feet, pale eyes blazing. “Do not attempt to manipulate me. I see so much

more than you do, than you are capable of seeing. I see the world. I see beyond the

trinkets here to what is true.

“You are a fool, Marutsar Phoesel, for you do not recognize a favor when I am doing you

one. There are things out there, things not indicated on any Tilmir chart—nightmare things

that will swallow your ships whole. I know that. I’ve known that for years. I knew you

shipped without my charts. You’ve asked others and you know I have granted no one else

an audience such as you have now.
That
is the favor. You have already made one

mistake; do not compound it.”

Lord Phoesel struggled. He clearly wanted to scream at Qiro, but merely clenched his fists

in impotent rage. Fear started him trembling and his restless gaze darted around the

room. So much of the world’s riches lay there about him, and the lack of charts kept them

from his grasp as effectively as the bars.

He came back down to his knees. “Thirty percent?”

“I feel generous, yes.”

Lord Phoesel’s head came up. “The
Crane
would be lost?”

Qiro canted his head to the left. “It might yet. Pray it remains becalmed at Nysant while

your
Swift
sails south. There should be enough time.”

The merchant nodded slowly. “I shall have the papers drawn up immediately for your

signature. Once they are signed, I will have my charts?”

The Anturasi patriarch frowned. “My lord, please do not insult me. I trust you. Think of the

association of our families, after all. The charts are already drawn up and await your

departure.
Swift
can leave within the hour. The papers you may have here by week’s end.”

“You are most kind, Grandmaster Anturasi.”

“I am, aren’t I?” Qiro’s eyes narrowed. “And, Marutsar, I
am
sorry about your loss.”

The kneeling man nodded. “The
Gull,
yes, quite a tragedy.”

“I meant your daughter.”

Blood drained from the man’s face and Nirati feared he’d be sick. He bowed deeply,

pressing his forehead against the floor, then came back up, but not fully. “Thank you,

Grandmaster. May prosperity continue to smile on the House of Anturasi.”

“It will, my lord. It most definitely will.”

Majiata’s father slunk from the chamber on hands and knees. Nirati made to follow, but

her grandfather raised a hand. She waited, and when Lord Phoesel opened the outer

cage door, gold bars again slid down over the small doorway.

Nirati raised her chin. “Something you would have of me, Grandfather?”

The old man sat on the throne and smiled warmly this time. “You did this as a favor to

your Desei friend. Is he worth it?”

The question surprised her. “I think so. We have become close.”

“I understand he is working by brokering shipments, arranging transport, and

administering trade agreements. He would find any connection to us of value.”

“He would, Grandfather, but he has asked me for nothing for himself. He feels sorry for

Lord Phoesel.”

Qiro’s eyes glittered. “And you risked my ire for him. He must be special, indeed. To have

survived Pyrust’s wrath and escaped south speaks well of him. Is he involved in

intrigues?”

Nirati frowned. “He has met with some of the inland lords and has helped them invest in

ships. I know he has warned them against trading with anyone using charts that are not of

Anturasi manufacture. That is the extent of things.”

“Does he please you, Nirati?”

She hesitated, trying to hide a smile, but then let it blossom fully. Junel had been charming

and very well mannered, enjoying her company as much as she enjoyed his. He had not

been insistent about anything, so when they had come together intimately, it felt natural.

Their trysts had the quality of a romance story about them, and just remembering his

caresses puckered her flesh.

“Yes, Grandfather, he does.”

“Good. This pleases me as well.” Qiro nodded slowly. “I will ask you only one thing, Nirati.”

“What, Grandfather?”

“You are very dear to me. I know there are those who say you are not part of this family

because you have no talent at cartography. But if you are happy, so am I, and so are your

brothers. If you are ever unhappy, you will let me know, won’t you?”

“If that is what you wish, Grandfather.”

“It is.” He opened his arms. “I sit here amid the treasures of the world, but that which I love most dearly stands there, behind those bars. I would tear the world asunder were

someone to hurt you. Remember that you are the world’s most precious treasure, Nirati. If

someone is going to win you away from me, please let him be worthy of you.”

She bowed deeply. “Yes, Grandfather. Thank you.” She wanted to straighten up, run from

the tower, and find Junel; but when she looked into her grandfather’s eyes, that desire

drained away. He watched her with the patience she’d not seen since she was a child.

“May I ask another favor from you, Grandfather?”

“Of course.”

“Let me spend the day with you. I want to visit the workshop again. I want to see your

work, and see where my brothers have gotten. It’s been so long—too long—since I have

done that.”

“Yes, Nirati, I would like that.” He stood, smiling proudly. “Come to the workshop and I will

share my world with you.”

25th day, Month of the Rat, Year of the Dog

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

162nd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

736th year since the Cataclysm

Stormwolf,
in the South Seas

After two more weeks of sailing, the
Stormwolf
finally found one of the islands from the Soth chart. It had a small harbor into which they sailed—and none too soon, for a savage

storm came whistling up out of the southwest. The island was an extinct volcano covered

with jungle, barely more than three miles across, but it still protected the fleet. Only one of the smaller ships, the
Mistwolf,
broke her moorings and was driven aground.

In some ways the ship’s grounding was a gift of the gods, for the crews quickly scavenged

bits to repair storm damage done to the other ships in the fleet. The supplies it had carried

were redistributed, and the ship refloated. With only one mast it could not continue the

grand voyage, so Captain Gryst outfitted it with a skeleton crew and sent it back north

toward Nalenyr, bearing word of what they had seen and done so far.

Jorim had been tempted to send Shimik back with the
Mistwolf
for the Prince’s

amusement, but the crew’s attachment to the Fenn stopped him. At least that is what he

recorded in his report on the matter, further noting that he would continue to study the

creature and its adaptive capabilities. The truth of the matter was that he was quite fond of

Shimik and had no desire to be parted from the little beast.

Shimik continued to develop in response to life on the ship. Since he spent so much time

in the hold hunting rats, his fur darkened to a deep mahogany. His fingers lengthened and

developed bony ridges along their length and the backs of his hands—where he had

previously shown evidence of rat bites. He also became leaner and could ascend the

ship’s ratlines with the best of the sailors. He continued his comedic antics to the delight of all, but he also could have his grim moments—as if mimicking Captain Anaeda. Oddly

enough, she did not seem to think he was mocking her, and more than once he’d found

the two of them hunched over a chart, studying things.

While none of the other storms that blew up from the south were as savage as the one

they’d weathered at what they called Byorang—Storm Island—the fleet found itself

regularly lashed by strong winds and driving rain as they continued. The seas became

heavy enough that even the
Stormwolf
rose and fell like a toy. At those times, Anaeda

reminded him that he needed to use two hands—one for himself and one for the ship—

lest he be lost overboard. For the most part he kept to his cabin, since the clouds and rain

made attempting any positional reading of the stars impossible.

When he did venture out, he did not go far, and just watched the water in all its myriad

forms. He witnessed an elemental struggle, with wind and water doing their best to

destroy the vessel of wood. He watched other ships rise to the crest of waves, then

disappear over them, never knowing if behind the curtain of water they had been

shattered, or if they would reappear once more.

Sheets of rain assaulted the
Stormwolf
. Heavy droplets exploded against the deck,

drumming loudly, opening holes in the rivers that washed over the deck. Waves crashed

against the bow, dark water fragmenting into foam. The sails remained taut as the wind

filled them. Masts creaked under the strain, and Anaeda was constantly bellowing orders

to hoist one sail, or furl another. A good gust could have ripped them apart or snapped a

mast, but to run without sails would be to surrender all ability to steer. The wind would

blow the ship broadside to the towering waves and that would be the doom of any ship,

even one as big as the
Stormwolf
.

Most of the crew handled the storm well, but the same could not be said of the

passengers. Iesol spent most of the time frightfully sick. When calm did descend, he

labored feverishly to get caught up with all his work, which left him exhausted and even

less able to tolerate a lively sea. Others remained in seclusion, but kept the cooks busy

preparing concoctions to fight seasickness.

The nastiest of the storms hit them on the twentieth day of the Month of the Rat and lasted

for three long days. It broke around noon on the twenty-third, and the clouds vanished so

quickly that one had to wonder if there had ever been a storm at all. As per orders, the

fleet sailed south, cutting back and forth to the west and east every three hours, and pretty

soon seven of the nine remaining tenders rejoined the
Stormwolf
.

Two ships had not rejoined the fleet by the twenty-fifth, and all aboard assumed

the
Moondragon
and
Seastallion
had not survived the storm. But as dawn broke on the twenty-fifth, a lookout perched up among the starcombers saw a ship to the east. Anaeda

ordered the
Stormwolf
to come about.

Jorim watched from the bow with a sinking feeling in his stomach. One of the crew had

identified the ship as the
Moondragon,
and if he was right she had lost two of her four true masts. The remaining two only had scraps of tattered sails fluttering from yardarms, and

cables snapped in the breeze. As they drew closer, he saw no signs of life on board and

took as a good sign that none of the ship’s boats remained on the deck.

He commented about that when Captain Gryst joined him, but she shook her head.

“That’s not really a hopeful sign. It’s possible they thought the ship was going to sink. But

putting out in boats in such a storm was as suicidal as remaining on a sinking ship. Yes,

there; take a look at the aft, at the rudder.”

Jorim squinted. “What rudder?”

“Exactly. It’s gone. They survived the storm, then put the boats out with cables to help

steer the ship.”

“If that’s true, then where are the boats and where are the crew?”