A Secret Atlas

by Michael A. Stackpole

  “So does the dog!”

  “Ha.” Cyron reached out and grabbed Eiran by the front of his cloak. He dragged him forward a dozen stumbling steps, then tossed him against a cage. “There’s your Helosundian dog. He’s magnificent. My Keru take very good care of him. He is their pet.”

  The dog, which had been huddled with his tail curled up to warm his nose, stood and shook his thick winter coat. Black with a white band around the eyes and white stockings, the long-haired animal had enough size and bulk to take a wolf. The Keru, when entering combat, painted a white mask around their eyes to honor their nation’s emblem.

  The dog sniffed at Eiran, then backed, baring his teeth.

  “The only thing a Helosundian dog cannot tolerate is cowardice, Eiran.” Cyron let his voice drop into a deep whisper. “If what you reported as passing between Jasai and Pyrust in Meleswin is true, then she accepted him as her husband without duress. Some would dispute that, saying she bought your life so you will be able to succor her. They would make her captivity a cause around which to rally support and send an invasion force north.”

  “That is exactly why she agreed.”

  “Look at him, Eiran; he still growls at you. He knows you are terrified of Pyrust. Your sister knew it, too. She knew you would never come for her. She knew you would use any excuse possible to avoid that. She’d seen your army slaughtered.

  “No, she accepted Pyrust’s offer knowing exactly what it was. It affords Helosunde a degree of autonomy and relieves it of oppression. There will be no more war in Helosunde. I will continue to maintain the Keru and the other Honor Guards, and I shall even allow you to parade some of them about, but fear not. You are a hound that shall never go to war.”

  Eiran levered himself away from the bars of the cage. “You will keep my people caged as you keep this dog, then?”

  “In a cage you will be safe. Like this beast here, I shall find you a cousin of mine to marry and you shall produce children. One of my children by whomever I choose will marry one of your nieces, linking our houses. Your children I will have married into the Five Princes. I will make you useful, but not a threat, so Pyrust will not feel the need to have you murdered.”

  The Helosundian stared at him, shock widening his eyes. “You can’t do that. I am not in a cage. I am not a pet.”

  “No, you are not. You are just someone who is walking after he should be dead.” From deeper in the sanctuary came the piercing cry of the Desei hawk demanding to be fed. “Even it knows you should have died in Meleswin, and you likely would have died save that you cause me more trouble alive than dead. If Pyrust had slain you, I could have countered by forcing the Council of Ministers to make a new choice—someone who was tractable—or to make no choice at all. By sending you back, he gives me the choice of killing you or not. Which reminds me, when we see the tigers, try not to stand too close to the edge of their pit.”

  Eiran shivered. “You wouldn’t!”

  If he had any intelligence at all, he’d know he just saw past your bluff. “Not today, for the tigers have already been fed. You would do well to make certain you do the things I desire in the future, lest I invite you to walk again in my sanctuary.”

  The Helosundian Prince’s face closed and he looked down. Little puffs of vapor were the only sign he lived. Then his head came back up, his eyes dull. “My life is over, then?”

  Cyron shrugged. “Tell me, what was it you thought when they elected you Prince?”

  “I thought . . . I thought I would look very heroic in the robes of state.” He sighed, exhaling two plumes of steam.

  “Even the most resplendent robes will not a prince make, nor will mud-spattered rags unmake a prince. You were chosen, Eiran, to be manipulated and controlled. Those who followed you to Meleswin did not know that. They accepted your authority.” Cyron’s eyes tightened. “I am going to give you a chance—less because it will benefit me than because it will give Pyrust something else to worry about.”

  The young man’s spine straightened. “What?”

  “I am going to budget for you enough gold to buy a hundred thousand quor of rice. I want you to spend it on things to benefit the people who expect you to lead them. I want you to live with them, learn from them, determine what they need—not what they say they want, but what they need. I want you then to provide them the means necessary to attain those ends.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “If that is the case in a year, I will find you a tower that will become a gilded cage. You will never need, want, nor fear in that cage, but you will never be allowed out of it.” Cyron reached a hand through the cage bars and scratched the Helosundian dog behind his ear. “Learn your duty, do your duty, then we will truly be brothers. Make yourself useful to me, and you will find that my resources and gratitude know no limits.”

  Chapter Forty-three

  13th 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

  Stormwolf, off the Mountains of Ice

  “Thank you for making the time to see me, Captain.” Jorim bowed in her direction. “I asked Iesol to confirm what I have discovered.”

  Anaeda cleared her desk. “You’ve brought charts, so this is a problem of navigation?”

  “Yes and no.” Jorim set the rolled charts on her desk and unfurled the first one. “This is a map of our progress. I’ve been incorporating data as best I can, from what we have learned and from the Soth map. I’ve already drawn in the coast of the Mountains of Ice, at least as much of it as we have been able to survey.”

  Anaeda studied the chart for a moment, tracing a finger along the line the fleet had traveled. Their course had come down south and curved to the east, skirting the empty vastness of the ocean to discover the islands and to confirm the existence of the Mountains of Ice. “This looks accurate to me. What is the problem?”

  Jorim drew in a deep breath and attempted to quell the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach. “You’ll recall how the islands on the Soth map were further apart than we expected? And you’ll remember me telling you that they’d drawn Cartayne smaller than it should be?”

  “Something to flatter the Viruk, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes. That bit of lore about the Soth is wisdom handed down to me from my grandfather, and I have no clue as to where he got it, but I know he believes it. He’s worked with Soth charts and, based on measurements, he’s made some determinations. He knows the world is a globe. Based on the measurements he’s been given, he’s even managed to calculate the diameter of the world.”

  The captain nodded. “I am well aware of the hopes that by sailing east we could reach the western shore of Aefret. The logic of such a passage is inescapable, and the question is which path is shorter, sailing east or west? When you are on the sea enough, you also hear stories of those who claim to have found the place from which True Men sailed—the land of light eyes. Some think we came from another world, sent here after fulfilling some destiny. Others think we were just blown off course. Given the storms down here, I think that’s most likely.” She folded her arms. “I still fail to see what the difficulty is.”

  “The difficulty is, captain, that my grandfather’s calculations were wrong.” He unrolled the second chart. “The art of measurement is not wholly accurate. Nautical miles and statute miles are not the same. Each of the Principalities uses a slightly different distance to define miles, and most people don’t worry about it. Other towns are a day’s travel, or a week’s, or just too far. Even the surveys my brother and I have undertaken are flawed. The further we go from Moriande, the greater the error, and it compounds.

  “Now, the device your cousin created has allowed for more accurate measurements, but I realized I was making a mistake in calculating based on statute miles, not nautical miles. I communicated erroneous things to my grandfather, and when I corrected, suddenly the Soth scale for
Cartayne made sense.” He turned and rested a hand on Iesol’s shoulder. “I asked the minister to check my math, and he put his students on it as well.”

  Anaeda’s eyes narrowed as she studied the new chart. “How big a mistake?”

  “Twenty-five percent.”

  Her head came up fast. “A quarter of the world unaccounted for?”

  “Yes.”

  She sat down hard and rubbed a hand over her eyes. “So sailing east will bring us to Aefret, but it will take far longer than we expected.”

  Jorim leaned with both hands on the desk. “That’s if we ever get there.”

  Anaeda sat back in her chair, steepling her fingers. “Explain.”

  “Currents. We’re south of the equator, and the current is running from right to left. Water warmed flows toward the south pole. North of the equator it goes in the opposite direction. If the world were of the size we thought it was, then the southern circle would carry us to Aefret. The upper current would have carried us to lands at the other end of the Spice Route. The difficulty we have is that the world is much bigger than we thought. We know water is cooler away from land and hotter close to it. I think if there were nothing in the unknown quarter, the current coming across the equator would have cooled too much to have the force it does coming in to our coast.”

  The ship’s captain smiled slightly. “I am pleased your time aboard the Stormwolf has conferred upon you the information you now possess. Your knowledge of currents is admirable, but faulty. All that is required is for the west coast of Aefret to be shaped so that it intercepts this polar current, warms it, and directs it back west along the equator.”

  She leaned forward and studied the vast expanse of ocean to the east of the Principalities. “Even as I tell you all that is required to invalidate your idea, I don’t believe it. In every quarter of the world—every quarter up to this point at least—earth and water are in balance. To assume nothing but water exists out here is as absurd as to think it could be a solid wall of stone reaching to the stars. And then there is the mystery of the land from which True Men came. We also might well wonder after the sea devils and what they call home. Is it possible some new world lies in the heart of this emptiness? Of course, but this leaves us another question.”

  Jorim cocked an eyebrow. “And that would be?”

  “Why didn’t this emptiness or whatever is there appear on Soth charts?”

  Iesol bowed his head apologetically. “Permission to speak, Captain?”

  “Please, Minister.”

  “The Soth were subject to the Viruk. They served them in all ways, including as educators and keepers of information. Perhaps they chose to hide this knowledge so that any peoples in this place would remain out of Viruk hands.”

  “That is certainly possible, Minister, but the Viruk were capable sailors and explored much of the world. The idea that the Soth bureaucracy could keep knowledge of a quarter of the world from them is unsatisfactory.”

  Jorim straightened up. “I have another idea, Captain.”

  “What would that be?”

  “Perhaps this quarter of the world did not exist when the Viruk Empire was its most powerful.”

  Anaeda frowned. “The idea of bureaucracy sounds better at the moment.”

  “No, think of it for a moment. We know how much the Cataclysm changed our world, but it really was very little compared to what happened when Virukadeen sank into the Dark Sea. The Viruk fought a war with magic—magic so powerful even our greatest legendary magicians could not begin to match it. Imagine, if you will, that the war changed what sank into something akin to thaumston. Anything could happen. We’ve seen volcanoes add to coastlines, so perhaps hundreds of volcanoes were triggered and were able to expand the world.”

  “And you would then suggest, Master Anturasi, that the Soth chart you saw on Cartayne made the island smaller than it really is to reflect the fact that the Soth had determined the world had expanded?”

  Jorim shook his head. “I don’t know, Captain Gryst. I make maps, I find animals. I am, as you said at our first meeting, an adventurer. I don’t care what would have put a landmass here. It could be the gods. It could be Viruk magic, it could have been hidden by sloppy Soth cartographers. All of that is immaterial. I would just like to get there and see what we find.”

  Anaeda stood, then bowed to him. “I appreciate your scholarly approach to this problem. We have one duty for certain, and that is to survey the Mountains of Ice. I mean to 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.”

  Chapter Forty-four