24 Calay
Ever since Destrar Broeck had slain the ice dragon and delivered its horn to Calay, the pearlescent relic had rested in a felt-lined cradle inside Calay's largest kirk. According to scripture, the spell Aiden had placed upon the dragon Raathgir was a powerful bane against sea serpents. Broeck had obtained the horn as a talisman to be mounted on the prow of the new Arkship, but ra'vir saboteurs had burned the vessel before the horn could be installed. Now Raathgir's horn would join the Dyscovera on her voyage of exploration.
On the last day, old Prester-Marshall Rudio led the crowded service to bless the ice-dragon relic. As late-morning sunlight streamed through the kirk's colored glass windows, the old man stood behind the altar, intoning a long prayer, then he raised his scratchy voice. “Because all magic draws its power from Ondun, we will keep part of the horn here in the holy church, while the other half sails with our greatest ship, the Dyscovera.”
He lifted the horn, to reveal that it had been sawed neatly in two along its axis; half of it remained in its cradle. The audience muttered, surprised. From the front bench, next to Broeck, Anjine, and a fidgeting Tomas, Korastine nodded.
“Though separated, all things remain one,” Rudio intoned from the Book of Aiden.
Sen Leo had approached him with the idea weeks ago, reminding him of how sympathetic magic worked; the king had been skeptical at first, but the arguments were convincing. The two pieces would draw strength from each other, joined with the threads of magic. The Saedran sympathetic model of the Dyscovera in the guarded warehouse would also receive a long sliver of the horn, mounted on its prow.
Once the prester-marshall completed his invocation, King Korastine struggled to his feet, helped by Destrar Broeck's hand on his elbow. The two men stood together to receive the half of Raathgir's horn Rudio handed them, and they raised the pearlescent object before the transfixed worshipers.
“Though separated, all things remain one,” Korastine repeated, and this time the audience cheered.
Aware of the schedule they had to keep in order to meet the following day's departure, Broeck handed the relic to Kjelnar as soon as the service was over. The big shipwright, looking very uncomfortable in formal clothes for the kirk, bowed vigorously to the king, the destrar, and the prester-marshall, before he rushed down to Shipbuilders' Bay to install the finishing touches on the Dyscovera.
On the last day before the launch of the Dyscovera, Aldo na-Curic spent every possible moment with his family. He doted over his two children, listened to his younger brother Wen mooning about how he wanted to be a sailor too. His mind rattled with numerous details, and he compiled lists of things to add to his pack, items to leave behind, people he wanted to see, farewells he needed to say.
In his studio, his father worked on a painting that showed Aiden at the prow of his Arkship, casting away the sea serpent Raathgir. To the group of sailors depicted there, Biento added a brave crewman whose features looked exactly like his son's.
When a knock came at the door, Sen Leo na-Hadra greeted him with a large wire cage full of restless pigeons. “Sen Leo! Come in—I had hoped to see you before the ship sailed.”
Lanni ran to hug her father, and Aldo's mother came forward, perplexed by the caged birds. “Are those for us, Sen Leo? Even with Aldo gone, I don't think we'll be reduced to eating pigeons!”
The scholar made a tsking sound. “If you eat these pigeons, the elders will be quite upset. We developed them as an experiment.” He tapped the cage, making the crowded birds flutter again. “Rea pigeons are a breed whose eggs commonly have a double yolk. These birds are all twins—one here in this cage for Aldo to take aboard the Dyscovera, its counterpart back in a coop on the roof of the Saedran temple.”
Aldo understood. “Sympathetic magic!”
“I'll show you how to tie a message to their legs. When you release a bird, it should find its way home to its counterpart. The theory is sound, but in practice…”
The children ran around pestering their grandfather before Wen shooed them all away, herding them into their own room. Aldo's mother whispered something to his sister, who marched off into the kitchen. “You will stay for dinner, of course, Sen Leo.”
Bending slowly, as if his joints ached, the scholar sat down at the table beside the birdcages. “Of course. We will have much to talk about.”
Late at night, after the children were put to bed, each with a loving kiss on the forehead, Aldo sat up talking with his parents and Lanni, and spending a few private moments with his old mentor.
Sen Leo sighed, turning away to hide his reddened eyes. “Aldo, I taught you to be a chartsman. You know of the Mappa Mundi. Every place you explore, every new coastline and island you chart, will bring us closer to finishing our great task.”
Aldo nodded, trying to be serious, but his excitement got the best of him. “And when we have completed the Map of All Things, Ondun will return.”
Sen Leo cocked his eyebrows, nodded pensively. “It may just be a legend, it may be the literal truth, or some combination of both, garbled and distorted by time. And you know the story of our origin, the lost people, the sunken continent. As you sail into the unknown, keep your eyes open for where our race once lived before it sank beneath the waves. Who knows, you just may find it, eh?”
“I've already prepared myself by studying all variations of the legend recounted in the Tales of the Traveler.”
Sen Leo made a chiding sound. “Now, now, you know that many Tales of the Traveler are not entirely believable. Learn whatever you can. Find the truth.”
Aldo promised him. “That is what the voyage is all about, sir.”
While most of the ship's crew enjoyed one last night on land, Criston remained in his cabin aboard the Dyscovera. On the dock itself and in boats anchored nearby, a barricade of nervous city guards protected the vessel from harm, after the recent sabotage. But Criston did not mind being alone on the ship.
Anxious to set sail, young Javian had wanted to stay with him,but Criston insisted that the boy go into Calay. “Eat whatever treats you enjoy best, walk past the old homes and shops, smell flowers and trees—and remember them. Those memories are the most important things you can pack with you. At times, they may be all you have.”
Though he appreciated the young man's dedication, Criston wanted solitude to consider the imminent departure, the dangers, the hope and responsibility. This voyage would be much different from the previous one….
Long ago, before sailing on the Luminara, Criston had made love to Adrea for the last time aboard his own small boat. Years had only added a warm glow to the memory of that final moment together, when they had believed in the future, trusting their decision as husband and wife, both ready to wait as long as it might take. God had smiled on them all. Neither Criston nor Adrea had imagined the span of years that would separate them, the gulf of time and tragedy.
On that last night, they had held each other belowdecks in their small cabin aboard the Cindon, the boat he had named after his father who had been lost at sea. That night each moment with Adrea had been fresh, and even after nearly two decades of longing, those memories remained vivid in his mind. Now in his darkened captain's cabin on the Dyscovera, he was alone but not lonely, because Adrea was there with him in spirit.
Logically, he knew that his wife must be long dead at the hands of the Urecari monsters. The raiders had destroyed everything they touched. And yet his heart clung to hope, and he still wrote her letters, sealed them in bottles, set them adrift….
Restless, he walked the quiet deck and stopped next to the three compasses. The ancient relic of Aiden's Compass was polished and lovingly restored. With his fingernail, he tapped the crystal, but the needle did not move, even though it had been set back into place and carefully balanced. The compass had either forgotten its way, or Terravitae was simply too distant, the magical bonds too thin and frayed.
May the Compass guide you. Aidenists used that blessing to focus their very lives. In the morning, when they sailed out of Calay harbor, the Compass, and Criston's own skills as captain, would guide them across the unexplored seas.
It was late by the time Sen Leo left the na-Curic household. The Calay streets were quiet, and the air smelled of a cool harbor mist; the lamps on street corners and lintels were haloed in the fog. Inside the temple, he opened the hidden door behind the complex mosaic and descended the stone staircase. Down below, he could hear the muttered voices of learned men engaged in a heated discussion. The Saedran elders were waiting for him in the secret underground chamber.
Dozens of candles illuminated the intricate painted cartography that covered large portions of the chamber's smooth walls; constellations spanned the vaulted ceiling. The whole known world. Though the sum total of Saedran geographical knowledge covered these walls, significant areas remained blank. And time was running out, if the cryptic prophecies and old writings could be believed.
Six revered scholars sat at the table with their parchment notes, their inkpots, and their perennially furrowed brows. The drawings traced from the sea-turtle shell lay in front of them, along with a few questionable outlines, additional scratched landmasses that had become visible on the shell after the Saedrans gently applied chemical powders to enhance contrast.
“Sen Aldo na-Curic has all the information and assistance we can give him,” Sen Leo announced. “He will send his reports via the bonded pigeons, and each letter will tell us more about unknown geography.”
Portly Sen Belos scowled. “A chartsman should not write down his observations, but keep them solely in his memory. What if someone else should intercept these notes?”
“And what if the ship sinks before Sen Aldo returns? What if we lose everything he has seen up to that point, as we did with the Luminara?” Sen Furic interrupted.
Sen Cherr always had a sleepy-sounding voice, but it carried great power. “I consider it an acceptable risk, Belos. Aldo will, of course, write his letters in our coded language. It is imperative that we complete the Map of All Things.”
Sen Leo pointed to the Mappa Mundi on the wall. “And don't forget, we are speaking of Aldo na-Curic. Thanks to his connections with Sen Sherufa na-Oa in Olabar, he delivered detailed descriptions of all five soldanates of Uraba, and brought us the southern coastline beyond the land of the Nunghals. Because of Aldo, in one generation, Saedran knowledge of the world has unfolded dramatically. I would not dismiss his likelihood of success.” He looked around at the other elders. “We must complete the Mappa Mundi as soon as possible. You all know the reasons why.”
Cryptic lines from the Tales of the Traveler, the Book of Aiden, Urec's Log, and Saedran scriptures yielded a convergence of prophecies that suggested the arrival of humanity's final days… that Ondun had given them only so much time to explore and unveil His entire creation. If they did not complete the Mappa Mundi soon, the world itself might be torn asunder.
“All Saedrans have the same goal, Sen Leo,” said Belos, trying to be conciliatory. “If the pieces can be brought together, our information will be complete.”
Sen Leo closed his eyes, but the image of the Map remained before his imagination. “Then we will be able to save the world.”