23 Olabar

More than a week after his return to Olabar, the soldan-shah went without fanfare to the main church, ostensibly to pay his respects to the ur-sikara, but he had another motive. “I would like to see the Amulet of Urec. I wish to study it for myself.”

Erima looked alarmed and confused. “That is highly irregular, Soldan-Shah. The Amulet is a sacred object.”

“Yes, and it belonged to my ancestor, Urec. I am your soldan-shah. You would deny me this?” He had heard Istar complain that the sikaras denigrated her whenever he was not in Olabar, and he knew Saan's suspicions that the priestesses had been behind the recent attack in the souks. He didn't trust them.

Still, the dark-skinned woman balked. “I must consult with… with other priestesses.”

Baffled by her attitude, Omra kept his voice steady. “You are the ur-sikara. You make the final decisions.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he simply walked into the large sanctuary, prepared to summon his guards if necessary, but he hoped Erima wouldn't force him to do that.

He stood alone at the altar, perusing the gold medallion that had been passed down from generation to generation, protected in the church. This object was a direct link with Urec and his crew.

During his father's reign, Ur-Sikara Lukai had delivered the talisman to the prime Urecari church in Ishalem, where it had nearly been destroyed in the great fire, but an unknown pilgrim had rescued it. The amulet's edges and markings had been softened and blurred by exposure to the intense heat, but he could still read the symbols and recognize the marks.

The same ones as on the Map that Sen Bira na-Lanis had found beneath the ruined Aidenist kirk.

It was all Omra needed to see, but he remained there for several more moments, staring and pondering before he finally went back to the palace. He had no doubts that the Map was real.

That night, unable to sleep though he was home at last, Omra lit a brass oil lamp and closed the door to his private office. By the flickering warm light, he withdrew the beautiful Map. The Saedran architect had translated all the descriptions and labels, writing them on a separate parchment. The archaic and nearly incomprehensible text gave Ondun's blessings and directions to his “sailor son.”

According to the original legend, Ondun had given His son Aiden a compass that would always point the way back to Terravitae, but He had given Urec a detailed chart to guide his voyage. This chart revealed undiscovered lands, hidden coasts, far-flung islands—and clues about the Key to Creation, a miraculous object that Ondun had hidden in the world when He created it, a special prize for the most worthy of men, a talisman of great power. In their teachings, the sikaras were vague about what, exactly, the Key to Creation was; different sects and experts disagreed on their interpretations of Urec's Log.

Long ago, the Map had been lost. The official church story was that it had been swept away in a storm at sea. According to some apocrypha, however, an Aidenist spy had destroyed it to prevent Urec from completing his quest, thereby cutting him off from Terravitae—and the Key to Creation—for all time. Conversely, the corrupted Aidenist version of the story said that Urec was so arrogant, wanting no direction from his father, that he had discarded the Map.

Given that the Map had been found in an Aidenist kirk, Omra didn't know which story to believe.

Though this treasure was of immeasurable value, Omra was convinced he had made the correct decision to keep it secret. No doubt Ur-Sikara Erima would demand that the Map be given to the church, and Omra had no intention of doing so. He had too many questions of his own.

Fully awake while the palace slept, he stared down at the lines, imagining those mythical shores, the cliffs and reefs, the whirlpools and strong tides. The currents could have taken Urec to so many different places on his voyage across the unexplored world, but he had landed here, and he and his wives, along with the crew and their descendants, had become the Uraban people.

Omra touched his fingertips to the ancient ink and sensed a leftover aura of power. Those words could well have been written by the hand of Ondun Himself. He continued to stare by the flickering lamplight until his eyes burned and he could no longer remain awake. Unsettled, he went back to his bed, where the night breezes sighed against the silken hangings. In the hour before dawn, he finally drifted into a restless slumber, in which he had a vivid dream….

Omra saw himself standing in crystal halls, walking through mirrored caves full of marvels beyond anything he had ever imagined—jewels and fountains, alabaster statues of exotic animals. At an intersection of corridors, he stopped to face a holy light so brilliant he could not bear to gaze upon it. Though he could make out no details, Omra knew that this was the Key to Creation, the blessed talisman waiting to be found since the very beginning of the world. Ondun had sent Urec out to find it.

Omra awoke with a start—and a firm conviction. He knew what he had to do.

Hidden somewhere in the undiscovered vastness of the world was this incredible object. Now that he possessed the Map, he had to send someone to find the Key to Creation. Only then would the conflict end. With such a relic in their possession, the followers of Urec would surely defeat the Aidenists.