125 The Dyscovera
The Tierran sailors hauled up buckets of seawater to pour onto the deck so they could scrub away the bloodstains. His face stormy with anger, Criston Vora oversaw the efforts of the crew. Those men duped into following Prester Hannes did the worst jobs, guarded by the sailors who had remained loyal. The mutinous men appeared cowed, but several of them remained defiant and certain that Aiden's instructions to convert the mer-people had been clear.
They were all guilty, and they knew it. But if he executed every one of the mutineers by throwing them into the open sea, the Dyscovera would be little more than a ghost ship.
A shaken Sen Aldo had withdrawn to his cabin for a day, miserable over what had happened. He had been thrilled to rediscover his original people, but now he felt only failure. He had actually seen that the mer-Saedrans had a map to Terravitae… and now he had lost it.
Finally the distraught chartsman emerged to stand next to the captain. “I've tried to be tolerant, sir, even when Prester Hannes issued his inflammatory sermons. But those Saedrans were my lost brothers and sisters. His unreasoning hatred made me lose the greatest hope of my people! He had no right! How will they ever forgive us now?”
Criston shook his head. “Hannes may have triggered another war here. And Kjelnar…” He gave his head an angry shake. “We lost a good man, a brave sailor, and a friend. I considered him indispensible, but the Dyscovera will have to continue without him.” Anger and grief warred in his voice. “I don't know how Aiden can pardon us for the foolish offense we committed in his name.”
In all, they had lost six crewmen, only two of whom had been among the mutineers; ten more men were being held for defying the captain's authority. He had thought the cruel justice he had shown Enoch Dey would stifle any questioning of his authority. Prester Hannes had been the loudest voice calling for the would-be rapist's execution.
Yet Hannes had instigated this latest crime. Criston could not forgive himself for not recognizing the lengths to which the man's zeal would drive him. He had thought their shared tragedies, and recovery, would bind them together. Criston had believed he understood the man, but Hannes had turned on him.
Confined in his cabin and given only limited rations of ship's biscuit and water, the prester seemed ironically offended that Captain Criston Vora had turned against him and Aiden.
Criston knew that if he executed the man who represented their faith—not to mention their holy mission to discover the land of Terravitae—the whole crew would mutiny. And if the Dyscovera ever did reach their destination, how could he explain to Holy Joron that he had cast out the one man who spoke on behalf of Aiden?
Sen Aldo followed him as he walked toward the mounted compasses at the captain's wheel. During the fray with the mer-Saedrans, one of their three instruments had been irreparably smashed—the Captain's Compass, which pointed the way home to its twinned compass needle in Calay. The compass had been maliciously pummeled and destroyed, though no one had witnessed anything during the fight with the mer-Saedrans.
Criston could not shake the suspicion that someone had done it intentionally. But why? To prevent the ship from ever getting back home? It made no sense.
Nervous, the chartsman cleared his throat and held up small strips of paper on which he had printed dense coded characters. “Sir, we should send one of the rea pigeons to inform Sen Leo of what we found… and what we lost. I have to be honest with him, though he will be devastated.”
Criston felt the weight pressing on his shoulders. “Go ahead, Sen Aldo. They need to know. How many pigeons do we have left now, seven?”
“Yes, seven more chances to send a letter home. We are fortunate none of the birds were harmed in the recent fighting.”
“Seven will be enough.” Criston nodded absently, and Aldo went off in troubled silence.
A few moments later, having tied the letter securely to its leg, the chartsman brought his pigeon forward. They watched Aldo whisper something to the bird, then fling it into the air. With a steady beat of its wings, the pigeon circled upward and began winging its way into the distance.
Javian and Mia joined Criston at the compass station. “How far do you think we have to go to find Terravitae, Captain?” the young man asked.
Criston looked at the cabin boy, who stared at the smashed compass, knowing they could not now find their way home. Javian had been partly caught up in Prester Hannes's uprising, but Criston wanted to believe that the boy had seen the truth and changed his mind. Or was he just weak-willed?
“We go as far as we need to go. The Dyscovera will not turn back until we have looked into the eyes of Holy Joron.”
With a gasp, Mia pointed at the ancient relic of Aiden's Compass. “Look, Captain! I saw it move.”
Beneath the polished crystal plate, the golden needle twitched. The needle hovered to and fro… then reoriented, straightened, and pointed along a strong, true course. Toward Terravitae.