In the private eastern courtyard of Calay Castle, a previous king had created a contemplation garden surrounded by lilac shrubs (the king’s favorite) as a peaceful spot where the Tierran ruler could think.
In the center of a marble platform stood the ornate prime Captain’s Compass, the central instrument to which every Captain’s Compass was twinned. Its needle had been drawn from the original block of iron and sympathetically magnetized; the needles in all other Captain’s Compasses pointed back to it—an arrow home for every sailor who voyaged across the oceans.
Even as those twinned Compasses were drawn to this primary spot, their own sympathetic threads pulled this needle in random directions. While the queen sat in blessed isolation on a cool bench regarding the Compass, its needle wandered to and fro, indicating no clear direction. She would have to make her own decision.
Anjine sat in preoccupied silence by the lilac bushes whose flowers had long since faded away with summer and autumn. The fresh news weighed like an anvil in her chest: Mateo’s wife Vicka had been killed in a fire at the Sonnen forge. Anjine had no one in whom she could confide, and she felt absolutely heartsick.
Sen Leo na-Hadra entered the courtyard with a determined gait, but when he saw her sober mood he hesitated. “My Queen? Guard-Marshall Vorannen told me I would find you here. Am I interrupting?” He took a cautious step forward. “May I have a brief word with you?”
She answered automatically. “What is it?”
“We’ve received another bonded rea pigeon from the Dyscovera.”
Anjine raised her head as if lifting a heavy stone, trying to concentrate on business that mattered little to her right now. “And what news does Captain Vora send? Has he found Terravitae yet?” This was the fourth report from the Dyscovera.
Sen Leo took a seat beside Anjine on the stone bench. “The bird arrived at the coop exhausted, but the message tied to its leg was intact. Quite a tale, Majesty—not at all what we expected. I’m afraid there are heavy consequences.”
Anjine couldn’t bear much more bad news, but she had to listen. She was the queen of Tierra. “Tell me the full details.”
Sen Leo gazed at the wandering needle of the prime compass as he told her about the discovery of the lost Saedran race and their sunken continent. Anger seemed to boil from him as he continued. “But the ship’s prester led a mutiny against Captain Vora and attacked the king of the mer-Saedrans. Those people could have been great allies to Tierra, and could have helped the Dyscovera find Terravitae. But Prester Hannes ruined everything.”
Anjine narrowed her eyes. “How did Captain Vora deal with it?”
“The mutineers were stopped, but too much damage had already been done. Several crewmembers were killed, including First Mate Kjelnar. The mer-Saedrans abandoned the Dyscovera and refused to offer any further help.” His sinewy hands knotted. “I am greatly distressed by these tragic events.”
A pounding pain echoed inside Anjine’s head. “I am distressed as well, Sen Leo.” From such a great distance, though, she was helpless to do anything to aid them. “But the Dyscovera remains intact? The ship can sail on?”
“Yes, Majesty. I visited the sympathetic model only this morning. Sen Burian na-Coway has seen no indication of damage to the ship.” The old scholar paused, but he was not finished. She dreaded hearing what else he might reveal to her.
Sen Leo finally looked up. “This news emphasizes portents in our Saedran writings, in the prophecies we have kept over the centuries, and in the Tales of the Traveler. I can no longer deny that so many omens point to the same conclusion. For centuries, our people have laid the framework for the Final Days, and right now I see many uncomfortable similarities.”
Anjine brushed this aside. “If Ondun wanted to bring the world to an end, what could I do to stop Him? I can only lead as best I can.” She looked at the prime compass. “I’ve heard enough about the end of the world for now. My own sorrow is much closer to home. Thank you for the message, Sen Leo, but please leave me to my thoughts.”
The Saedran scholar wanted to serve as a sounding board, as he had done many times for King Korastine, but Anjine needed to think. He rose from the stone bench and quietly exited the courtyard.
During her reign, Anjine had dealt with epic disasters, massacres, and unspeakable Urecari war crimes, but this was a deeply personal disaster. No one in all the world was as dear to her as Mateo Bornan, and this would devastate him. After all that Mateo had sacrificed in the name of Aiden, in the name of victory—in the name of Anjine—this would hurt him the most.
“Personal tragedies can be just as painful as great ones,” she said aloud.
She knew she had to be the one to tell him. She could not send a messenger, would not shirk the responsibility. As queen, she had already forced Mateo to do unspeakable things. Her command to deliver a thousand Urecari heads to the Ishalem wall had burned his soul, and yet he had done it—for her.
She had so looked forward to his return, but now she dreaded his arrival. Mateo would be home soon.