Authors: Michael A Stackpole
continue that part of our journey. Where we go from there will depend on the answer to a
question. Consider your answer before you speak.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Knowing the nature of your relationship with your grandfather, I assume you have not told
him of your errors in measurement.”
“No, Captain.”
“I also assume you would have avoided it until our return. Discovering something out
here—a new landmass, the home of True Men, anything monumental—might distract him
enough that he’d overlook your error. It would save you a great deal of pain.”
“That’s true.”
“So, here is my question.” She watched him closely. “Are you willing and able to deceive
your grandfather about what we discover?”
A jolt ran through him. Jorim had no qualms about deceiving his grandfather; he had lied
to him about countless little things—errors of omission mostly—all of his life. Qiro knew
nothing of the Fenn or the sighting of the
Wavewolf
. His grandfather had been abrupt
enough that he didn’t probe, so Jorim had not needed to work hard to conceal information
from him. He knew he could, but also that his own enthusiasm would make it difficult if
such a momentous discovery were made.
“The duties I perform are not just for the Anturasi family, Captain, but at the order of
Prince Cyron. If I deceive my grandfather, I deceive the Prince. You can see my
reluctance to do that.”
“I can, but we have a larger responsibility to the Crown, and to Nalenyr. The other
Principalities believe that
if
we are fortunate enough to return, at the very most we will have found another route to Aefret. This threatens them because it means more trade for
Nalenyr, but it is a threat they are already learning to deal with. If we find a whole new
continent, we open not just the wealth of Aefret, but that of an unimagined world. Nalenyr
will instantly be able to beggar any other nation. That means they will all be folded into a
Naleni Empire. Deseirion won’t stand for that, and likely even the Virine would have to
react.”
Jorim slowly nodded. “We could sail back to a nation devastated by war. Nalenyr might
not even exist when we get home.”
“If you will permit me?” Iesol looked up sheepishly from his chair. “ ‘As the Master said,
“The danger of dreams comes when one acts on them as if they are prophecy.” ’ ”
The cartographer frowned. “Elucidate, please.”
“You touched on external threats, but with Nalenyr you have two other threats, both based
in dreams of avarice. One is internal, for the inland lords will not allow themselves to be
done out of whatever treasures might be found. They will spend great amounts to send
out ships that will not return. It will ruin them. Peasants will leave the land and flock to the cities in hopes of crewing a ship, or working in a shipyard, so harvests will suffer and the
nation will face famine. The whole fabric of society will be rent.”
The little man shivered. As a member of the bureaucracy he could have no love for the
chaos of such upheaval. Jorim saw fear on his face and heard it in his voice as he spoke,
then his voice shifted. Fear ebbed, and anger rose.
“The second threat is that of the Ministers. You, Captain, and you, Master Anturasi, have
shown me more kindness and respect than anyone in the bureaucracy. The Ministers do
cherish order above all else, and already resent the fact that great wealth provides power
they cannot control. They are capable of anything to maintain order.”
Anaeda’s eyes narrowed. “Even treason?”
“More, though they would never define it as such. If Prince Cyron were seen to be
allowing power to flow to those who are not worthy, it would be a simple task for them to
find a noble who thought as they did, or who could be controlled. By falsifying reports, they
could blind the Prince to a growing revolt, and they could even deliver him into the hands
of his enemies—if they did not decide to kill him outright themselves.”
Jorim frowned. “That’s overreaching.”
“Consider history, Master Anturasi. The Council of Ministers for Helosunde has shown no
desire to relinquish power, and their betrayal of the Helosundian Prince is accepted by
many as fact. Establishing such a Council for Nalenyr might well seem a solution to a
problem the ministers have not had to deal with before.”
And I am the only link back to Nalenyr.
Jorim wondered if that were actually true, since a number of the scholars with the ship might well be able to establish a link back to blood
kin in Nalenyr.
Then again, none of them know where we are, so if we do find something
and tell them it is West Aefret, that is what they would tell people back home.
Jorim looked at his two companions. “You realize that we are entering a treasonous
conspiracy? When we return, the Prince might listen to reason and sanction what we have
done. Or he might decide that the time wasted in our return has hurt Nalenyr and have us
hanged for traitors.”
“I think, Master Anturasi, that you will be able to convince him it was all for the best. You
know he loves the animals you bring for his sanctuary.” Anaeda Gryst smiled. “We’ll keep
this secret so your gifts will be a surprise. How can he complain about that?”
“He’s not that simple.”
“No, but he’s reasonable. After all, it’s one thing for us to sail east. The trade route is only viable if we can make it back.” She tapped the new world map with a finger. “Let’s see
what’s there. Then we’ll see if we can return before anyone gets excited enough to start
killing over what we have found.”
17th day, Month of the Tiger, Year of the Rat
9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court
163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty
737th year since the Cataclysm
Dolosan
Keles Anturasi woke slowly, in the vain hope that doing so would make his head feel
better. He didn’t want to open his eyes, because even the slightest bit of light would start
his head pounding. He knew Rekarafi did not mean to cause him discomfort, and the
nausea that he had first experienced around him had long since passed, but the
headaches would not abate. They arrived as the sun went down and remained, disturbing
his sleep, leaving him achy for the rest of the day.
He hoped the last of the venom would finally work itself out of his system. He had done
everything the others could suggest to help him get rid of it, from eating the sort of odd
foods they found growing around them to exercise. The feathered berries, once they were
plucked, had been the most effective. They had a sharp sour taste which, if it didn’t
actually cure the headaches, certainly distracted him from the pain.
Ciras had made it his personal duty to show Keles how to use a sword. The cartographer
was fairly certain this was mostly because the Tirati was still embarrassed over his simple
solution to the problem of the pool. Moraven had used Keles’ action at the pool as an
example of the employment of intelligence over thoughtless action, and Ciras seemed to
take it to heart. Sword instruction was a means of paying off a debt, and it did force Keles
to focus on something other than how he felt.
Tyressa adopted a different approach, which entailed taking Keles off on little side
journeys. These had the advantage of distancing him from Rekarafi as well as removing
him from his logbooks and maps. She showed great patience in educating him about
animals, the tracks they left behind, plants, their seeds and flowers, and how to determine
if they were edible or not. She took great pains to separate fact from speculation, though
later observations of creatures often confirmed what she’d assumed based on their tracks
and scat.
He’d listened carefully and had begun to understand some more of what his brother found
so engaging about his surveys. He could measure the land and draw it, but that didn’t
convey a full knowledge of it. It felt good to fill his lungs with fresh air, and to feel delicate flowers, or spot a tuft of fur hanging from a thorn and know what it came from.
“It is odd, Tyressa, but I have always thought of the Keru as creatures of the city. This
knowledge you have isn’t something you could learn in Moriande.”
She laughed and crouched beside some uplands heather, brushing a thumb over the
purple blossom. “For the Naleni, we
are
of the city, but you only see us as a uniform
company. I’m ten years your senior, but have only been in Moriande for seven years.”
“And before that?”
She frowned. “I was not in Moriande.”
Keles walked over and knelt beside her. “Tyressa, I remember your telling me that first
night, on the
Catfish,
there were things I didn’t need to know. I want to respect that.
I
will
respect that, but I am curious. I assume you learned a lot of what you’re teaching me in Helosunde. I’m not seeking to pry, but simply to find a frame of reference.”
The blonde woman turned her head and regarded him. Her glance cut at him more coldly
than the winds, but only for a heartbeat. Then it warmed—fractionally. “Keles, I have come
to respect you for your dedication to duty and even your inventiveness. You believe you
only want a frame of reference, but past experience tells me that is not entirely so. I know
what Naleni men grow up thinking about the Keru. I even recall you and your brother
passing into your grandfather’s celebration—yes, I was at the door that night.”
Keles blushed. “I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry. You didn’t look at us any differently than any man, and your glances were far
kinder than those of most women. The rumors you’ve heard shape what you think of us.
We hold ourselves apart, you’re told. We take no lovers, bear no children, and have
undergone secret rituals that allow us to draw strength from Helosunde. You also hear we
only love women, or that the Prince is the only man we will accept in our beds. Some even
think we have seduced this Prince and his father before him, and are raising an heir to the
Naleni throne that we can use to replace him when we decide he no longer serves the
cause of Helosunde.”
“I’ve heard those stories, but I’ve never believed them.”
She stopped, then lowered her eyes and nodded. “You probably haven’t, have you? Once
you left behind adolescent fantasies, you didn’t contemplate any of that. Not much of a
surprise, in fact; just a pity.”
He stood and brushed red dust off his knees. “A pity? How is it a pity?”
“It shows how insulated you are from life.” She turned and looked up at him. “Did you love
the woman you took the scars for?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Why?”
Keles folded his arms over his chest. “Well, because she was pretty and she was from a
good family and . . .” His voice trailed off. “My father married a woman from a merchant
house, his father before him. It was expected.”
“Expected.” Tyressa snapped off a sprig of heather and tucked it behind her left ear. “You
loved her because you thought you were supposed to love her. It fit into your conception
of the world—just the way the numbers and distances allow you to quantify the world. You
seek order, and she was part of that. She was the piece that would fit well into the mosaic
you think your life should become.”
“That’s not true.” Yet he found no reason to back up his denial. He’d allowed himself to
believe he loved Majiata because he wanted to love her.
I needed to, because I needed
someone to love me just as my mother loved my father.
She opened her arms and slowly turned a circle. “Look at this place, Keles. It existed
before you ever thought of measuring and defining it. It will continue to be what it is long
after your map has moldered to nothing.”
He shivered. “Great. Thanks. I get the idea. What I do out here won’t matter.”
She shook her head. “No, you fool, you have it all backward. It’s not what you do out here
that matters. It’s what being out here does to
you
that matters. Right now, you’re nothing but a puppet performing for your grandfather. Worse, he’s trained you so well that even
after he dies you will continue to perform the same way. A puppeteer could not wish for
more of the dolls he leaves behind.
“You don’t seem to understand that everything you do out here will matter. Your maps will
open this land to exploration. People will come—but unless you understand that the land
is more than distances and elevations, you won’t be able to guide them where they should
go, or show them how they should prepare for things.”
“This place, Tyressa, is a long way from colonization. Yes, there are scroungers and
bonediggers who live here, but the land changes them. There is still wild magic.”
“Yes, Keles, but will it change you?”
“I don’t understand.”
Tyressa sighed. “I don’t suppose you do. Look, my world has been very small. Yes, I
come from Helosunde; I grew up there. I killed a few Desei, which is why I was chosen to
be one of the Keru. From there my world expanded to include Moriande. But now I’m here,
seeing things I’ve never seen before, and I realize the whole of the world is not a captive
nation. My people keep hungering for a tiny portion of the world that will cost them more
than it is worth. Don’t look at me with that sort of shock—you know what I am saying is