16 Calay

Back from Windcatch, Criston and Javian returned to Shipbuilders' Bay and the Dyscovera. Broad-backed men filed aboard carrying crates of cured meats, dried fruit, wrapped biscuits, medical supplies, bottles of wine, kegs of heavily hopped beer, cages of chickens, sacks of grain, and many casks of fresh water.

Kjelnar greeted them from the prow, shirtless as usual. “I was hoping we wouldn't have to sail without you, Captain! We're about ready, Aiden willing.”

“Well then, let's see if the ship meets with my approval, Shipwright.”

He walked the deck, climbed down a wooden ladder into the cargo hold, checked the bunks and hammocks where the crewmen would sleep stacked together like dried apricots, then inspected the brick oven in the galley. Following with undisguised pride, Kjelnar pointed out all that he'd completed during Criston's brief absence.

As cabin boy, Javian would have his own closet-sized room adjacent to the captain's cabin; it was barely large enough for him to stand up in, with a hard shelf for a bed, and another for his reading and studies. Criston had made it a condition of Javian's service that the boy continue his education in letters and mathematics, as well as the Book of Aiden.

At the navigator's station, alongside a traditional magnetic compass and the Captain's Compass whose needle always pointed to Calay, stood Aiden's Compass. The ancient relic would show them the way to Terravitae. Although its needle remained inert and motionless, as it had for centuries, Criston had faith that once they neared the land of Holy Joron, the sympathetic magic would register again.

Criston extended his hand, taking Kjelnar's grip in his own. “I can't say that I have ever seen a more perfect ship, Shipwright. When I first imagined the designs for sailing vessels and carved my wooden models, even my dreams were not as excellent as the Dyscovera actually is.”

Javian beamed. “And now the greatest captain and the greatest crew will make this greatest mission a success.”

Kjelnar's chest swelled. “If faith could float boats, boy, our ship would fly.”

The converted warehouse building at the harbor's edge smelled of sawdust, shellac, paint, and tar. The window shutters were open to fill the interior with sunshine. More than a dozen Saedrans toiled in a flurry of finishing touches on the replica; the team of intense craftsmen, led by the famed model-maker Burian na-Coway, would light lamps and work far into the night in order to complete the project in time.

Four feet long from bowsprit to stern, the Dyscovera's sympathetic counterpart was larger and more precise than any of the ship models that sat on shelves in the naval war room at Calay Castle. Sen Leo na-Hadra, the aged but brilliant Saedran scholar, paced around the detailed construction. Burian kept sheet after sheet of notes, constantly measuring, jotting down numbers, and sending runners back to the actual vessel in Shipbuilders' Bay with measuring strings to verify his notes.

When he saw the captain enter, Sen Leo's eyes burned with a new kind of fire. He snapped at his craftsmen, “Back and forth you go! I want every man here to study the real Dyscovera at least once an hour. Any flaw you note must be reproduced here. Every rigging rope, every knot.”

The old scholar formally introduced Criston to Sen Aldo na-Curic, who would act as the Dyscovera's navigator, chronicler, and cartographer. Criston shook Aldo's hand. “Are you ready for the voyage, Chartsman? We set sail in less than a week.”

The dark-haired Saedran crossed his thin arms. “Captain, I've been ready all my life. I became a chartsman just before the departure of the Luminara, and I was chosen to serve aboard the great Arkship, before she burned. Oh yes, Captain, I am ready.”

“Sounds to me like you're bad luck,” Javian said with a hint of skepticism. Criston nudged the boy into silence.

With balls of string, like the toy ribbons children used during Landing Day celebrations, two Saedran riggers laid down the ropes and tied the shrouds on the model Dyscovera, exactly mimicking the ones on the great vessel.

Strands of sympathetic magic wove through the world and connected all things, because—according to the Book of Aiden—every speck of creation had been touched by the hand of Ondun. Therefore, if a model were built with scraps of wood from the same planks that made up the real vessel, if duplicate rigging ropes were strands from the actual ropes, if the paint and shellac came from the same pots, then the two counterparts were inseparably connected. If anything should happen to the Dyscovera herself, this model would reflect it, here inside this building in Calay.

“We will do our part, Captain Vora,” said the model-maker, looking up from his notes. “Your job is to sail the ship where it needs to go.”

Back home in the Saedran District, Aldo na-Curic joined his family for a boisterous meal and an evening of discussions, games, and fellowship. Aldo's wife, Lanni, one of Sen Leo's daughters, greeted him at the doorway with a quick embrace, then ran back to the kitchen to help his mother prepare the meal. Aldo's little son and daughter—aged three and two, respectively—hurried up to him, clinging to his legs. He threw the girl into the air and swung her around, then repeated the process with the boy.

By the time he returned from the Dyscovera's voyage—if he returned—the children would be much older. He hated to miss key years of their childhood, but he would not turn down the chance for this voyage. If Aldo discovered the rest of the world, found Terravitae, and helped the Saedrans in their age-old quest to complete the accurate Mappa Mundi—the Map of All Things—then his son and daughter would forgive him.

Aldo's sister, Ilna, who still had no husband though she was well past the age to marry, called them to the table. Ilna was an attractive young woman, though somewhat flighty, and the na-Curic family had enough funds for a reasonable dowry, but she was extremely picky about her suitors.

Aldo's parents, Biento and Yura, unveiled the baked fish with sprigs of herbs and preserved lemons. Lanni passed around a basket of fresh-baked rolls. Aldo took one for himself and reached for a pot of butter, while the children fought over the jam and honey.

Aldo's father called for them all to stop. “Before we partake, we must express our thanks. Tell us what you're grateful for. Ondun may be far away, but we all know He is listening.” In the subsequent pause, Biento scanned their faces, then said, “I am grateful for the opportunity my son has been given. He will be the most famous Saedran chartsman in history.”

Aldo blushed. Lanni spoke next. “I am grateful for my husband and everything he has given me, including these wonderful children.”

Aldo's younger brother, Wen, who wanted to be a chartsman himself but didn't have the fortitude or patience to memorize vast libraries of data, said he was thankful for his new job as a journeyman clockmaker.

When it was his turn, Aldo felt a lump in his throat. “I am grateful for such a wonderful family, and the happy memories you've given me. I will draw upon you for strength when I am far, far away.”

As he looked around at his family, their faces made blurry by his own tears, Aldo realized he would miss them very much.

Biento began to serve the fish.