The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  He passed under the bridge that linked the Saedran District

  to the Royal District and entered the narrow Shipbuilders' Bay. Stripped logs floated against the shore, and up on land sawmills whined. Four different dry docks held the keels and ribs of ships under construction. Many piers extended into the water, piled with lumber, ropes, barrels of caulk and tar, and wooden derricks, blocks and tackle, cranes.

  On his previous trip to Calay, Griston had learned of a great project begun by King Korastine and inspired by PresterMarshall Baine. To launch a golden age of exploration, ship designers had crafted a new type of vessel for long voyages, with three square-rigged masts in contrast to the single masts used for sloops and fishing boats, or the two-masted cogs that were adequate for coastal trade. The new ship was named the Luminara, "to shine light on the dark corners of the map."

  The Luminara's charter was to voyage outward and return in a year, to explore the unknown and discover new lands for Tierra. Since the Edict divided the world in half, King Korastine hoped to find uncharted islands, perhaps even new continents that lay above the latitude of Ishalem. In the aftermath of the great fire, the need was even greater, the necessity for hope undiminished.

  The king guaranteed high pay for all seamen aboard the Luminara--enough to make Criston a wealthy man when he returned to Windcatch. He had talked with Adrea, and though it pained them both to be parted so soon after being married, Adrea was a wise and practical woman; she could read his dreams as easily as he could read the currents in the sea.

  "You can't pass up this opportunity," she said. "Let's consider it an investment. Ciarlo will take care of me."

  "We'll take care of each other," her brother said.

  "And I need you both to take care of my mother," Criston said.

  He loved Adrea all the more because she could see how much

  this meant to him. The Luminara was the first purely exploratory ship Tierra had ever launched. If this voyage proved successful and they did find rich new territories, there would be other such expeditions... but there would be only one first voyage. And Cris ton wanted to be on it so badly that his heart ached.

  As his small boat passed deeper into Shipbuilders' Bay, Cris ton saw the breathtaking ship under construction. The Luminara looked like music on the water, a graceful sculpture of curved wood and soaring masts. Teams were laying the rigging and stretching the shrouds like a delicate cat's cradle of ropes, ratlines, and pulleys. Mountains of white sailcloth lay folded on the decks as sailmakers cut and stitched large rectangles of fabric, adding eyelets, threading ropes. Though the three-masted carrack was huge compared to the fishing boats Criston knew, the Luminara was also delicate, a ship poised to glide across the Oceansea.

  "She's beautiful," Adrea breathed.

  "We didn't arrive any too soon." He was amazed at how far the construction had come. "It looks like the Luminara will be ready to sail within a week."

  15

  Calay

  Two months after the burning of Ishalem, the last of the Uraban diplomats and merchants were evicted from Calay. A wave of raucous jeers and threats came from the people crowding the wharves and docks of the city.

  Feeling both angry and sad, King Korastine watched as royal guards escorted the foreigners from their holding barracks.

  Some departing Uraban merchants already stood on the decks of the two ships ready to cast off. The soldan-shah's diplomats ignored Korastine's escort, ignored the hurled insults from the crowd, and walked along the wooden pier to the waiting ships. They looked happy to be leaving Galay.

  "By my command and by the Grace of Aiden," Korastine announced to the Urabans, "your lives have been spared." The king stood on the docks, wearing formal robes and his crown. "Tell your soldan-shah that we can neither forgive nor forget what the Urabans have done, not the deaths of my people, not the burning of Ishalem."

  The diplomats shouted a response in their own language, which no one bothered to translate. Korastine didn't care to know what they were saying; the meaning was clear enough. He had hoped for such an entirely different outcome when he and Imir had signed the Edict. But after what he had seen that night, there could be no turning back

  His ship had sailed back to the capital, while to the south the smoke remained like a giant pillar in the sky for days afterward. On the voyage, Korastine had begun to form plans to fortify his defenses. Sitting on the deck for hours, he talked with Anjine, telling her ideas as they formed in his mind. Though she was still young, he considered it imperative that she understand the difficult decisions a leader must face.

  His advisers, the people, the presters, the traders, all of them made the same demands. As king, he should have been able to make the choices he wanted, not the choices that circumstances pushed him into. Korastine could no longer abide trade with Uraban merchants, and the five reaches of Tierra would have to look to their own mines, farms, rivers, and grazing lands in order to produce what the people needed.

  Immediately upon reaching Calay, Korastine issued orders

  for his guards to round up all Uraban diplomats in the Royal District. The news of the fire had not yet spread throughout the city, but from that day forward, every follower of Urec had to be considered an enemy and a potential spy.

  City guards isolated indignant and confused Uraban merchants, herding them to a separate area in the Merchants' District. Korastine ordered their goods "temporarily" confiscated, their ships impounded until he could make his decision. He did not want to keep these men in Galay, but he feared he might need hostages. Soldan-Shah Imir was sure to do the same--or worse--as soon as he got back to Olabar.

  The stuffy veteran leader of the Tierran military, Comdar Delnas, dispatched the available warships to turn back any vessels showing distinctive Uraban sails. Many such merchants had been sailing for weeks from ports in Outer Wahilir, working their way northward from one stop to the next, unaware of the destruction of Ishalem. When their ships were boarded and King Korastine's proclamation was read to them, the Uraban merchants expressed disbelief and outrage, sure that the Aidenists were to blame.

  Their cargoes could just as easily have been taken as prizes, but the king issued orders that the men were to be sent home, unharmed, in hopes that the soldan-shah would follow the same rule. He feared, though, that any Aidenist trader who pulled into a Uraban port city would suffer a harsher fate.

  In the following weeks, Korastine dispatched scouts down to Ishalem, and they reported news as grave as he had expected: The out-of-control fires had burned Ishalem virtually to the ground, eradicating the shrines, the main Aidenist kirk, the merchant districts, the royal residence. Nothing but charred fragments remained of the Arkship. The Urecari side of the city was also destroyed.

  Now, on the day of the final eviction from Galay, when the

  last foreigners had boarded their ships, Korastine gave orders for the exotic-looking vessels to cast off. Hooting crowds followed the drifting boats, throwing horse dung and rotten fruits at the decks. Though they were clearly furious, the departing Urabans held on to their dignity as their ships headed toward the mouth of the harbor, closely escorted by Tierran military vessels until they were out in the open sea.

  Korastine had hoped to feel relief now that the decision had been made and implemented. But his heart remained heavy and unsettled.

  Returning to the castle, Korastine passed through the gauntlet of courtiers, functionaries, and servants, and headed to his withdrawing room. Through long habit, he wanted some time in private after his public appearance and prior to his afternoon meetings.

  For the rest of the day he would sit with representatives of the destrars, the leaders of each of the five reaches, all of whom brought their local problems and complaints--none of which could match the far greater crisis that faced their entire world. Unable to see the potential wealth that exploration could yield, the destrars complained about the increased taxes Korastine had levied to pay for constructing the Luminara. They also compla
ined when he built houses for the healers and shelters for poor dockworkers. In some things, he could impose his will.

  Construction of the exploratory ship had begun well before the signing of the Edict. Some might have said that after the burning of Ishalem, the terms of the Edict were no longer in force, but Korastine refused to think that way. He and SoldanShah Imir had sworn an oath. They had pressed their blood into the helm of the Arkship. Their promise was sacred before God and binding upon their souls.

  Prester-Marshall Baine had preached a "new revelation" from the Book of Aiden to the hundreds who gathered for services in Calay's large Aidenist church. Holding up Aiden's command that all people should "learn and remember Ondun's glory," Baine interpreted the Law of Laws to mean that humans should engage in discovery rather than rote memorization.

  Many presters were uneasy with this shift in focus, wanting to stay in their small village kirks and preach what had always been preached, what they themselves had memorized. But Baine's enthusiasm was infectious. "For the longest time, we believed that Aiden's arrival at Ishalem was the end of our journey. But what if this is only the beginning? What if our whole continent is merely a stopping point on the great voyage of destiny?"

  With his forceful personality, he excited a sense of wonder in his listeners. He made people dream again. And he had the ear of the king

  Korastine removed his crown and set it on his writing-desk, then pulled off his heavy embroidered robe, though an army of servants would have liked to assist him with the dressing and undressing chores. His ruffled linen shirt was formal enough for the rest of the day.

  His bedchamber had seemed quiet and empty since the death of Queen Sena. Now, hearing a rustle in the library alcove, he called out, "I am ready for you, Sen Leo. Advise me before the destrars come and harry me like birds fighting over a sunflower head."

  The Saedran scholar emerged from the alcove, absently carrying one of Korastine's books. Though Sen Leo had thousands of volumes of his own, he was always engrossed in Korastine's books when he came to visit. The king enjoyed speaking with the

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  THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

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  Saedran scholar both before and after difficult meetings. He was one of the wisest men Korastine knew.

  "The Luminara is nearly ready to launch, but the destrars will resent their share of the cost until they actually see gold come back into their treasuries," the king said. "It'll be a year before the ship is due to return."

  "Destrars complain--it is a fact of life," Sen Leo said with a snort. "They look at their crude maps, and because they see no islands or coastlines, they assume nothing is there, just the edge of the world."

  Korastine slumped into his high-backed chair. "Don't belittle their concerns. Because of the Ishalem fire, we'll have to build up our military, construct a more powerful navy, recruit many more soldiers. Perhaps they are right that we can ill afford such an expensive discretionary venture now."

  Sen Leo was alarmed. "We can ill afford to forsake it, Majesty! As you say, the ship is nearly done. Further expenditures will be minimal." He shook his head and extended a large-knuckled finger, as if scolding imaginary listeners. "Besides, their investment paid for barely half of the expedition. Without the help of my people, you would never have begun the project in the first place."

  Private Saedran treasuries had secretly funded a large share of the Luminara. Though quiet and unobtrusive, the Saedrans had amassed huge fortunes, and Korastine was amazed at how easily Sen Leo delivered chests of gold for the project.

  Now he leaned forward and met the old scholar's eyes. "Why are your people so interested in a voyage of exploration? You cannot hope to recoup your investment. You aren't a merchant."

  "Ah, but we will profit in knowledge. Who can place a price on the new things we might learn?"

  Korastine frowned. "Now you sound like Prester-Marshall Baine."

  The scholar gave him a mysterious smile. "Where do you think Prester-Marshall Baine got the idea in the first place?"

  16

  Calay Harbor

  The next morning, freshly shaved and wearing the best clothes he had brought from Windcatch, Criston made his way to Shipbuilders' Bay and the construction dock that held the Luminara. The spicy fragrance of fresh Iborian pine clashed with the bitter lacquer and caulking tar. Once aboard, he made his way to the stern and knocked at the door of the captain's cabin. He heard a man's voice call for him to enter.

  Captain Shay sat at a small writing desk crowded with books and charts, a measuring stick, an ink pot, and several quills. The cabin walls held numerous sketches, detailed anatomical drawings of dissected fish, plump aquatic worms, unusual undersea plants. One intricately drawn picture showed a seagull's wing with its feathers splayed, each type labeled. A collection of unusual seashells lined one of the narrow shelves, tacked down with wax.

  He stacked his papers and turned to look at Criston, smiling in surprise. "Ah, Mr. Vora! You've come back." Ink stains covered his fingers.

  "I would like to sail aboard the Luminara, sir." He stood ramrod straight. "I'm glad you remember me from the Fishhook."

  "And I'm glad to see that our little adventure didn't turn you into a landsman. We won't be seeing many Urecari pirates where we're going this time."

  "That would be fine with me, sir. We'll see other interesting places."

  The captain motioned for him to take a small wooden stool. "This isn't a week-long voyage, like the other one. Tell me why I should let you join my crew."

  "Because I'm a good sailor and a hard worker. I understand currents, I know how to weather storms, and I can catch the faintest breath of breeze in a dead calm."

  "Impressive." A smile quirked Shay's lips. "Maybe you should be the Luminara's captain instead of me."

  Criston wondered if he had bragged too much. "My father was a fisherman, sir. He died in a storm."

  "Many fisherman die in storms, and we're bound to encounter plenty of storms ourselves, as well as things we can't even begin to imagine."

  Criston nodded. "I'm ready for the storms, sir, and anxious to see what else the seas have to offer."

  Shay rocked back in his chair. "Aren't you terrified of the unknown? Most people are."

  "The unknown doesn't have to be frightening. There'll be wonders, too."

  The captain chuckled. "I'd say that qualifies you to join the Luminara's crew. And, as I recall, you were the first to spot Fillok's plot as we approached Ouroussa, so I could certainly use you. But what does your family think? You'll be gone a whole year--ifihe voyage goes as planned. Your father's dead, you say. What about your mother? I can't remember from before--are you married? Any children?"

  "I have a wife, and I have a mother. They both support my decision." Leaning forward on the stool, Criston put his elbows on his knees and spoke in an earnest voice. "When I was only thirteen, my father bought his own fishing boat. He'd worked for

  most of his life as part of another man's crew, and he wanted to be a captain himself, to have something of his own. He went into a great deal of debt to have his own vessel, but I saw how happy it made him. He was on top of the world!" Criston glanced at the colorful shells, the naturalist drawings, the unrecognizable potted plant hanging from a hook near the latticed window of the cabin. "And one night the fishing boat vanished. It might have just been a storm, or it might have been the Leviathan.

  "The loss of that boat left us nearly destitute. We had no way to pay back the loan, so I lied about my age and signed aboard other boats. I worked hard, I took care of my mother, and eventually--seven years later--I commissioned my own boat. When I told my mother what I intended to do, she didn't want me to follow in my father's footsteps. She didn't want me to be lost at sea."

  "I doubt any mother does, young man."

  "To save money, I did most of the work with my own hands. And now we'll sell the boat so that my wife and mother can live on the money while I'm gone. Then, when the Luminara returns, I'll buy a
n even bigger boat."

  "Very ambitious."

  "I can do it."

  The captain opened a large logbook on his desk, dipped a quill in the inkwell, and handed it to Criston for his signature. "Welcome to my crew. We sail in six days."

  While Criston went to the Luminara, Adrea and Ciarlo attended to business of their own. Though Calay was a strange place to them, Adrea wasn't afraid to ask questions, and she could be bold when she needed to. She talked to dockworkers; she stopped at taverns; she asked about captains who were without ships. She searched for men who might want to buy the Cindon.

  Before departing to present himself to Captain Shay, Criston had taken a long slow walk around the deck of his boat, touching the rails, the Captain's Compass, the hatches. He ran his ringers along the sailcloth, tugged on the secure knots, as if saying goodbye. Adrea knew how much effort and love he had put into this boat, how he had spent his nights sanding the hull, pounding in caulking ropes, lacquering surfaces exposed to the weather. But sailing with the Luminara meant even more to him. She had no doubt in her mind that he would secure a position on the crew, and if he did he would have to sell the boat.

  After Adrea and Ciarlo had made many inquiries, three men came to see the Cindon. One was a drunkard, and Adrea doubted he had enough money to buy a sail, much less a boat. He poked around and made insulting comments, gave a rude scowl to Ciarlo, as though to convince himself that he didn't really want a boat that he couldn't afford anyway.

  The next was a gaunt older man with long hair and a full beard. He had been a sailor in his youth, but when his older brother died, he'd been forced to stay home and manage the family pottery shop. Now his own sons were old enough to do the work, and the old man still felt the call of the sea; he wanted a boat of his own, but he could not afford Adrea's terms.

  The third man was a rich merchant searching for an investment. She haggled enthusiastically to reach an agreement with him; then she talked him into business terms with the wistful old sailor. The sailor would be the captain, and the merchant would take a share of the profits. As part of the deal, Adrea insisted that the old sailor grant her and Ciarlo passage back to Windcatch--if Criston was accepted as part of Captain Shay's crew. She had all the details taken care of. The high selling price further eased the sting of having to surrender the boat. Her brother was quite pleased with the result.