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.