The Map of All Things (47 page)

112
The
Dyscovera

On the morning after the ship encountered the undersea city and descendants of the original Saedrans, Hannes delivered his most blistering sermon yet. It was clear to Criston that the prester hadn't slept at all, but rather had wrestled with his words all night.

Over the course of the voyage, some sailors had grown tired of Hannes's fervent harping, while others became even more bonded to him, though they had no outlet for their anger. Remembering how he had nursed the haunted man back from the brink of death, Criston still respected the prester's faith and deferred to him in spiritual matters. However, after hearing Hannes deliver his pointed tale explaining that Ondun had created the
land
for His chosen people—clearly a jab at King Sonhir and the sea dwellers—Criston called the prester into his cabin, along with the Saedran chartsman, who was preparing for his first day of discussions with the mer-people.

The captain took his seat at a small table and moved aside the charts he had marked. “Please close the cabin door, Sen Aldo, so that we can have a private conversation.”

Hannes spoke up before Criston could even begin. “I don't like this, Captain. I do not trust these people—not at all.”

Aldo's nostrils flared. “And what have they done to earn your distrust?”

“They are cast out from Terravitae. They destroyed their own land, which was a gift from Ondun!”

An uncharacteristic flash of anger crossed the young chartsman's face. “These are survivors of
my
people, who left Terravitae voluntarily. They have been lost throughout our history, and now we can be reunited.” He turned to Criston. “Captain Vora, Saedrans have dreamed of finding our lost brethren for countless generations. This is a great blessing, and not just for Saedrans. These underwater dwellers may have maps, knowledge of Terravitae—who knows what they might have discovered during all that time?”

“They do not follow Aiden. We must not rely on any information they offer.” The prester scratched habitually at the waxy patch that scarred his face. “Can you not see it with your own eyes? They are God's
mistakes
.”

A glint of dark humor shone in Aldo's eyes. “Prester Hannes, are you actually suggesting that God made a mistake?”

Criston pounded the table, halting any further argument. “May I remind you both of our true mission. Think of what King Korastine asked us to do. Think of the war, of all those who have died.”

Hannes was perplexed. “Captain, I don't see what that has to do with—''

Criston folded his hands together, forcing himself to sound reasonable. “Sonhir and his people move freely in the waters, Prester. With their great underwater cities and large numbers, they could be valuable allies! If they fight beside us, they could sink the entire Uraban navy! We must form a bond with them so that they want to help Tierra.”

Hannes narrowed his dark eyes, calculating. “If we were to convert them, show them the truth—”

“They are
Saedrans
,” Aldo insisted. “You use Saedran chartsmen without trying to convert them.” The prester did not find the argument convincing.

Criston continued, “You're both missing the point. As allies in our war, Sonhir's people could swim right up to the Uraban coastline. They could approach Urecari ships from underneath and smash holes in their hulls.”

Hannes glowered. “I cannot argue with your logic, Captain, but this is a holy war. How can we trust any ally who denies Aiden? Perhaps if we convinced King Sonhir to accept the Fishhook?”

“They would not do it, Captain! It would only offend them.”

Hannes raised his hand as if to strike Aldo. “The words of Aiden are not offensive!”

Criston reached out and caught him by the wrist, held it firmly. “I have to agree with my chartsman, Prester. This is a delicate matter.” He leaned forward, leaving no room for argument. “I want your promise of cooperation, my friend.”

Hannes pulled his arm free and knotted his hands into fists. When he spoke, each syllable seemed forced from his throat. “In the name of Aiden, and because you ask it, Captain, I shall… withhold judgment, for the time being.”

“Good.” Criston turned to Aldo. “It is your job to go out and learn more from these people, become their friend. Invite their king to come speak with me here, so that we can know each other better.”

Aldo sat alone in the ship's dinghy, rocking on the open sea halfway between the
Dyscovera
and the mostly submerged tower that rose above the water's surface.

Deep below, he could see the most ancient buildings covered with a fur of green seaweed. He could make out windows, doors, and long-unused outer staircases. The newer buildings—constructed of coral, mother-of-pearl, and stone blocks excavated from the seabed—were more freeform, with sweeping arches and thin spires supported by the embrace of the sea.

Four of King Sonhir's daughters swam around Aldo, laughing and teasing. They splashed the Saedran in the boat, and he sputtered, trying to remain dignified, which only made the girls splash him more. Their pale skin had a beautiful shimmer, and their long, lush hair flowed behind them in the current. The young women seemed innocent, unafraid, and very curious. They peppered Aldo with questions about his home, about life on land, about the cities that men built from trees and stones.

In the Tales of the Traveler and other ancient legends, Aldo had heard of beautiful sea women called sylphs, and now he knew the origin of those stories. “Can you really change shape?” He watched the girls swimming around his boat. “We've seen dolphins, and then these forms. Are you… one and the same?”

They laughed, ducked under the water, and emerged on the opposite side of the dinghy. “It's all Saedran magic. You should know that.”

“We take whatever shape we need—it is still
us
inside.”

One young woman leaned close, resting her arms on the gunwale. “We can awaken the spell within you too, Aldo. You don't know how wonderful it is, to change shape and swim wherever you like. The sea is where you belong.”

“Our father would welcome you home. Join us. We can make you happy here. Have you not seen how beautiful our cities are?”

“Are your towns on dry land as lovely as this?”

Aldo tried to sound confident. “Our cities are lovely, but different.” Watching the young women play, however, he felt longing and curiosity. The submerged metropolis seemed to call out to him. “I can't live underwater like you.”

“We can change you. We know how. You could stay with us.”

Another said, “We'll make you one of our people, Aldo. This is where true Saedrans belong.”

“You could be with us,” the third said. “I promise
I'd
make you happy.”

“
I
would make him happy!”

“We all would!” They laughed and swam in circles around the boat.

Aldo flushed. “I'm sorry, but I'm not tempted. I already have a wife and children back home.” Lanni… and his little son and daughter.

The sylphs giggled, as if he had told a wonderful joke. “A wife and children back home!”

“But they're on land—that doesn't count. Swim with us.”

Aldo blushed, then cleared his throat, embarrassed. “It counts for me.” Even with beautiful, half-naked women splashing around him, enticing him, he recalled the clear images of his beautiful, devoted wife and children. His love had not faded over the course of the long journey; as a chartsman, he had a perfect memory of them, forgetting not so much as an eyelash or a strand of hair. “I love them, and I miss them very much. They need me.” He paused, thinking about their mission. “All of Tierra needs me.”

“Tell us about Tierra!”

He grasped at the safer conversation, and they listened while he described how Saedrans lived back in his homeland, as well as what he had seen in Uraba. When he told stories of the Great Desert and the arid sand dunes, they shuddered; when he talked about the war between Aidenists and Urecari, they seemed perplexed. Having lived in isolation for so long, they couldn't imagine such a great rift between fundamental beliefs.

Captain Vora expected Aldo to convince the mer-people to join the Aidenist side of the fight. Though he loved Tierra, Aldo was a Saedran, and did not necessarily espouse Aidenist goals. He had seen terrible acts committed on
both
sides, though neither the Aidenists nor the Urecari seemed to see what they themselves had done wrong.

Aldo could say one thing in all honesty, however. “Captain Vora is a good man, an honest man. My captain wants to invite your king aboard so they can talk and understand each other.”

“We'll tell him,” said the girls.

“Our father will agree.”

“Sonhir wants to see your strange ship.”

One of the girls giggled. “And… we know where Terravitae is.”

He bit back a gasp, but the young women continued to taunt and tempt him. “But we'll tell you only if you promise to come back and spend more time with us.”

Aldo nodded. “I'll take the boat out again tomorrow to see you, I promise.”

The sylphs streaked off, racing one another toward the tower balcony, to find King Sonhir.

113
Iyomelka's Island

When Saan claimed her as his treasure, Ystya brightened with surprised delight and ran toward him. Excitement at the prospect of sailing away on the
Al-Orizin
glowed from her.

Despite her own promise, Iyomelka did not react well to Saan's request. The woman drew herself tall, and her skin and hair throbbed with all the power she had absorbed from the newly awakened spring. No one who saw it could doubt the magic the water contained. “How dare you!” Her eyes flashed, and a thunderstorm seemed to be building inside her. “I forbid you to take my daughter.”

As if he didn't notice the impending sorcerous explosion, Yal Dolicar burst out laughing. “Oh, I didn't expect that one, Captain! Remind me never to play
xaries
with you.”

“I learned by watching you, Yal Dolicar.” Saan faced the island witch with a roguish grin on his face. “We fixed your fountain, and you gave your word. You said I could choose any treasure I wanted. I choose Ystya.”

The older woman found no humor in the situation, and her voice was as sharp as the fin of a shark cutting through water. “You tricked me.” Her anger drew buzzing energy from the island itself. The water that bubbled from the fountain now frothed and gurgled.

Dark, unnatural thunderclouds began to brew overhead, knotting like black smoke, and a rumble penetrated the air. Lightning struck twice not far away, searing lances of white energy that threatened to move closer. The gathered crewmen looked terrified.

Equally furious and unafraid, Sikara Fyiri clutched her golden fern emblem. “What is this dark magic? I warned you about this woman, Captain! We must pray to Ondun immediately!”

Grigovar couldn't suppress a rude laugh at her comment. “I doubt that would help right now, Sikara. Haven't you been paying attention? Ondun's right there in the crystal box.”

“I refuse to believe it!”

Ystya clung to Saan's arm, her hopes dashed. “Be careful! She will destroy you and your ship, drown all your men. This can never be.”

With amazing speed, the water around the island grew gray and choppy, frothed with whitecaps. In the distance, anchored outside the reefs, the
Al-Orizin
rocked as the storms increased.

Saan wondered if there were any limits to the enchantment Iyomelka had summoned. He didn't doubt the seriousness of the threat, and he maintained his cool demeanor only with great difficulty. “There is no cause to threaten us, my Lady. We had an agreement, and the terms were perfectly clear. Why are you reacting this way?”

Nearby a lightning bolt struck a tall palm tree, shattering it into smoking splinters. The Uraban sailors gasped.

“You may not have my daughter. I will never release Ystya. Do not force me to summon havoc and sink your ship—like all the others.”

Despite the danger to the
Al-Orizin
and the crew, Saan faced the older woman with indignant anger. He was not used to being cheated. “So you will not abide by your own terms? You are breaking your word?”

Iyomelka forcibly pulled the girl away from Saan. “Choose something else, and I will not need to break my word.”

“You should be more careful when you make an agreement.” He didn't dare risk anymore. He believed in Iyomelka's powers. With false deference, he added, “All right, then—we choose
all
of the treasure instead. We will fill our longboats with it.” Saan stood firm, daring the island witch to deny him.

To his surprise, she agreed. “Take whatever you can carry aboard your boats, so long as you depart from here.”

Yal Dolicar applauded, as if he suspected this had been his captain's plan all along.

Saan tried to match the older woman's anger. “Very well, we will sail away with the first light of dawn, as the tide changes. I give you
my
word—and
I
don't give it lightly. All of us will be gone, and you need never see us again.” Lowering his head, Saan looked apologetically at the lovely Ystya. “I didn't think your mother would allow it, but I had to try. There is so much I could show you of the wide world.” The girl began to cry.

Turning away from the crestfallen look on Ystya's face, Saan called out to his crewmen, “You heard Lady Iyomelka—go load the longboats with treasure. There's plenty for every man. We have earned it… and there will be more when we find Terravitae!”

The sailors cheered, and Yal Dolicar and Grigovar led the group to the jungles and the waiting mounds of treasure.

Standing by the silvery pool and the crystalline coffin that held the old man's—Ondun's?—body, Iyomelka looked grudgingly satisfied. But her daughter broke away and ran back to Saan, who automatically folded her into his embrace.

A shadow fell over the clearing from dark clouds that thickened in the sky overhead. Pebbles on the ground vibrated, bouncing from tremors at the heart of the island. Iyomelka said, “Daughter, you will stay here,
as I command
.”

Saan clung to Ystya just a moment longer, before extricating himself. He kissed the girl on the forehead and rested his head briefly against hers to whisper in her ear, then stepped away. He held her at arm's length and said with great reluctance, “Go back to your mother.”

While Saan and his companions walked back to the beach, dragging armloads of treasure and then returning for more, the two women remained on the top of the hill, watching them. Ignoring them, Yal Dolicar and his fellow sailors loaded the longboats with treasure. The two craft rode very low in the water on the way back to the ship. From the rear of the second boat, Fyiri muttered a prayer and a curse, looking back at Iyomelka in the distance.

All the way to the
Al-Orizin
, Saan watched the coastline. Iyomelka and her daughter came to the shore to observe them, probably to make certain they stayed away, as promised. Saan waved, and Ystya waved back, but the island witch simply stood there, willing them to leave. Overhead, the storm clouds and the rumble of thunder circled the island like guardians.

Four hours before sunrise, in the dead of night Saan roused his crew and told them to prepare for departure. Aware of their captain's plan, the men moved quietly, setting the sails and making the ship ready. Grigovar lowered one of the empty longboats into the water again.

Yal Dolicar was delighted. “You continue to surprise me, Captain.”

Sen Sherufa, looking concerned, wished Saan well as he climbed down into the boat. With powerful strokes of the oars, he and Grigovar rowed toward the island, making barely a ripple or splash. By now, the big diver could find his way through the hazardous reefs even in darkness.

Saan had told Iyomelka that the
Al-Orizin
would sail at dawn, but he too could break promises. The island witch had changed the rules. He didn't feel any qualms about cheating her in return. Sitting eagerly up front, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he peered at the white strand of beach where he had hurriedly asked Ystya to meet him.

His heart leaped when he spotted a lithe figure there. The young woman rose at the longboat's approach and waved silently but excitedly.

Grigovar seemed amused. “She's waiting for you, Captain, just as you said.”

“Who could pass up a chance to go with me? Ystya will fit in the front seat right there.” He joked to distract himself from the nervous flutter in his stomach. “Remember, Iyomelka said we could take whatever we could carry in a longboat.”

Grigovar chuckled. “She does need to be more careful with her words.”

The young woman waded out into the water, eager to meet them. Saan leaned over and took her hands. Though she was smiling and breathless, he said, “Are you sure you want to do this? You can't ever go back.” His heart ached to see her exotic loveliness, her doelike innocence. How could even the Key to Creation be more beautiful? “Your mother will be terribly angry.”

“That is why I need to go, while I have the chance.” Ystya climbed into the boat, with Saan's help. “She killed my father. I'm not safe.”

Saan couldn't believe what he had heard. “What do you mean?”

In the moonlight, the girl told her story. “After my father found us on the island, we all lived together for countless centuries. I do not know why, but toward the end, my mother and father grew to loathe each other. One day my mother drowned him and dumped his body into the well. She had no regrets—until the magic faded and the spring dried up.”

Ystya lowered her head. “How long before my mother grows bored or impatient with me? I am no longer a child. Now that she has her power back, she could lash out and kill me, too.”

Saan put his arm around her. “I'll keep you safe.”

A troubled Grigovar stroked quietly and swiftly away from the island, past the underwater wrecks of other ships that had fallen victim to Iyomelka's storms and traps.

Back at the
Al-Orizin
, Sen Sherufa placed a blanket over the girl's shoulders and led her to a cabin, talking to her with soft reassurance. Saan issued hushed orders. “Weigh anchor, and let us be off.”

Catching the nighttime breeze, the
Al-Orizin
put a great distance between them and the island. By the time Iyomelka awakened and discovered what they had taken from her, the ship would be long gone.