Shadows Beneath: The Writing Excuses Anthology

by Brandon Sanderson, Mary Robinette Kowal, Dan Wells, Howard Tayler

​ ​ ​ ​“The Sisters have prepared a way for us.Why are you expecting a big city?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He nodded toward the horizon as if his statement were obvious. “The only time we see that much light before we arrive is when we cross the Narrow Sea to Arland and sail into the harbor at Porvath.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin looked back to the light and had to struggle to catch her breath. So many people . . . so many people who shared a heritage with her.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Her people had suffered enough persecution for their beliefs back in Marthevery country. Old stories told that the Seven Sisters had been blown away by a storm from Selen, a homeland far to the West. They now lived in the heavens to watch over their children. Passed down from mother to daughter, the beliefs had eroded over the centuries spent in Marth among the worship of the Sun. The corruption and greed in Marth had finally led the Sisters’ Sayer to fund this expedition to find the way back toIn Marth alone, the followers of the Sisters had been barred from holding office unless they renounced their beliefs. Even then, the visible differences of those who were ethnically of the Sisterhood still marked them. Hair twisted into pincurls at night to mask its coarse straight lines. Dye to cover the early gray—in some of the older families, hair grayed at puberty. Nut stains to darken the skin from the ruddy hue of a Sister, and still people could tell.

  ​ ​ ​ ​It was hard to comprehend that they had found Selen, the homeland.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She raised her gaze to the sky. She was not alone as long as the Sisters watched overhead. “The Five Sisters have prepared a way for us.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“To be honest, I wasn’t sure how long I would be able to keep the crew sailing west. Thought we were going to go right off the edge, they did.” He laughed and bent his head back to look at the sky. “Perhaps we’ll see ‘the ‘moon,’ too.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin snorted. “That’s exaggerated superstition.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“And tales of a land aren’t?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Modern scholars feel that our holy texts are guides for ways to live a better life. They are allegories, and yet . . .” She tucked her hands inside her sleeves, crossing her arms over her chest as though she were lecturing at the seminary. “There is always some basis for the tales. A land, even if it is not a new continent, must be at minimum an island. This moon? We believe that it is a corruption of the word “Monde”‘musa,’ which means ‘Ccity’ or ‘Ttown’ in Old Fretian. So we think that it refers to the city the SevenFive Sisters came from. ‘And the light of Mondeusa lay behind them, casting silver across the sea.’ This refers to the wealth and knowledge of the homeland, as does the passage which refers to Mondeusa as the ‘Brightest light in the darkness, it consumes all who enter.’”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He grunted again. “I’ve been to one of your Harvest Feast pageants. That whole glowing disc behind a sheet thing?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Illustrates a metaphor.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Not much point in arguing with you about your own religion.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“It does seem unprofitable.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​To her surprise, he gave her a crooked smile. They said nothing else, but watched the distant glow grow nearer. All thebrighten, while the wind played around her, lifting her seven braidsscarf and tickling her with the ends. No one seemed inclined to go to bed as they raced across the ocean toward landfall.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The light from the city was like nothing she had seen before. It was cool and silvery as though a glowdisc were reflecting in a polished metal mirror. It grew brighter by the minute. She heard a startled cry from overhead.

  ​ ​ ​ ​In the crow’s nest, a sailor pointed to the horizon. His words were snatched away. When she looked back to where he pointed, Katin’s heart seized.

  ​ ​ ​ ​A low mound of light had emerged above the horizon. It was not the glow of city lights, but a single broad arc that glowed with an unearthly light. She tried to make sense of the size but could not grasp the distances. “How big is that?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I . . . I am not certain.” Captain Stylian’s voice had a hesitation she was unused to in the man. “Pardon.” With a half bow, he made his way to the foot of the main mast.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He called up to the sailor in the crow’s nest, asking him for some numbers. The wind blew them away from her, but the answer caused the captain to turspin abruptly and stare at the horizon.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He pressed his hand to his mouth and his eyes were wide with something that, on another man, Katin would name terror. She crossed the deck to where the captain stood. “What is the matter?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He lowered his hand and swallowed. “It’s . . . The measurements . . . they cannot be correct.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Surely you can’t tell from so far—”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“But we can. When we see another ship upon the horizon, or land, we need to be able to calculate how large it is and how far away. This . . .” He waved toward it as though the words had been stripped from his mouth. “This is vast.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​The glowing edge of the disclight pulled her gaze once more. Enough of it was visible now to draw shadows from the rails. Long crisp shadows as though a dimmer sun were rising. The light lay before them and cast silver across the sea. It was like seeing scripture come to life.

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​Water splashed on Katin’s skin as she went through the seven postures of the morning meditation in the bow of the ship. Meditation did not come easily today. As she balanced on one foot, in Dorot’s stance, she watched the sky. The sun had risen as it always did. On the horizon, the mound grew larger but seemed no closer. It was fainter during the day, but just as visible. She had not gone to bed, nor had most of the crew. Those not on duty watched, as she did, seemingly transfixed by the way the light had grown to a half sphere. When more if it had become visible over the horizon, it became clear that it was not land, but some vast disc.

  ​ ​ ​ ​ It was impossible to grasp the size of it. A dinner plate held out at arm’s length would just cover it, but a dinner plate would not be visible past the curve of the world. Perhaps it was a beacon or a source to light their land at night.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The base of it should be visible soon. Katin leaned out as though that would help her see the support sooner. It too must be impossibly large.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The disc cleared the horizon. Katin squinted against the haze and set her foot down, breaking the sequence. She could not see a base.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She stepped to the rail as the ship skipped over the waves in front of a brisk wind. Her braids beat against her cheeks as she waited. The orb seemed to rise higher but nothing held it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin’s breath left her body in a rush. Dear Sisters . . . If the moon was real, what else was?

  ​ ​ ​ ​A sailor spat on the deck, and touched his fingers from his mouth to his forehead in a warding gesture. Scraps of conversation began, getting tossed on the wind toward her.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“. . . no land after all . . .” “It’s unnatural.” “We should ,” “turn back,” and then the epithet “nightlover.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“No.” Katin pushed herself back from the railNot now. She shaded her eyes against the sun and looked for the captain. He stood on the [nautical term] speaking with the navigator and the first mate. Their headswould not let them stop this voyage when they were so close together in tight conversation. Katin tucked her hands into her sleeves and hurried across the deck.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The navigator lifted her head and scowled openly. “Don’t you go spouting some hocum about this being a sign.” Porit jabbed her finger at the orb. “That thing is unnatural.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“But not unexpected.” Katin straightened her back. “You may not believe in the SevenFive Sisters, but you must acknowledge that theour stories speak of this. Of the moon.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Occult nonsense. The fact that someone sailed this far and sa
w that thing does not mean that land is in front of us.” Porit crossed her arms under her breasts and glared at the captain and first mateStylian tugged an end of his mustache. “I thought you said it was a metaphor.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin turned from the navigator to face Captain StylianLooking at the—at the moon rising higher above the horizon, Katin swallowed. “We hired you to sail Wwest. Thus far, all of the indications prove that our texts are correct. The land of Selen is ahead of us. Is there a reason, beyond your navigator’s fear, to turn back?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Porit scowled. “It’s common sense, not fear.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Peace.” The captain held up his hand between them and turned to Katin. “Your religious texts are allegories, you said. Has it occurred to you that your Sisters may have sailed to this point from somewhere else and then turned back?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Her gaze slipped to the orb hanglight rising in the sky. She had been taught about the metaphors and had written papers on what they meant. Her work was, in part, what had led to this expedition. But Wwhat else could this be, but the moon? Katin met the captain’s gaze as though he were a congregation of one. “Old Fretian is not related to any other language. Where did it come from if not the West?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You paid us to sail for four fifnights, and so we shall. You have until the eighth of Reed, but not a day past that.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin forced her voice to be calm. “There will be land.”

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​The moon rose higher as they sailed farther west. Katin chewed her lower lip, watching the pale object. It was impossible to grasp the size of it. A dinner plate held out at arm’s length would just cover it, but a dinner plate would not be visible past the curve of the world.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Its shape varied through the course of the day. fFrom a bowlike crescent, it swelled to a shining disc, then gradually diminished again to just an arc of light. The cycle repeated with slow regularity, but the moon never vanished entirely. It was clear now that it hung in the heavens, stationary as the sun and the stars spun their course behind it. She had studied enough astronomy in seminary to understand that the stars were actually far-flung bodies, not the spirits of the dead. This object—this moon was closer, so of course stars would pass behind it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​It only appeared to rise higher because they sailed around the world. If they kept going, it would eventually hang directly overhead. But why did it not move?

  ​ ​ ​ ​At noon, the sun skirted the edges, and daylight dimmed as though a storm cloud covered the sky. Each day, the moon seemed to eat a little more of the sun as it passed. Again, she understood intellectually that the changing face of the moon was a shadow. She understood that the sun was not truly being consumed, and yet the line from scripture kept running through her head. Brightest light in the darkness, it consumes all who enter. . . .

  ​ ​ ​ ​The moon had risen high enough over the past week that it came close to the SevenFive Sister’s’ path across the heavens. With the hour approaching midnight, it was now swollen to nearly a full disc. Other stars had dimmed and disappeared behind it, then reappeared upon the other side.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Would the Sisters yield their place as well?Water splashed on Katin’s skin as she went through the five postures of night meditation in the bow of the ship. Meditation did not come easily. As she balanced on one foot, in Dorot’s stance, she watched the sky. Katin tuggpulled at her scarf of office, which seemed too tightly tied tonightsnug. She had trouble breathing as she watched the sky.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The Sisters’ stately progress carried them to the moon. They dimmed as they approached it.

  ​ ​ ​ ​They vanished.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin sank to her knees. She had guessed they would. And yet . . . And yet, it was the night sky without the Sisters to watch over them. They had to come back out on the other side. Footsteps approached and the captain crouched beside her. “Are you all right?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I— yes. Thank you. I was just watching that.” She could not voice the disappearance of the sisters to him.

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Perhaps you should not.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “I think it may drive men mad to contemplate it. We are not prepared for something so vast.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“But at some point, my people did know it.” She pressed her fingers to her temples trying to soothe the pressure building there.

  ​ ​ ​ ​He grimaced. “But iIt iwas one thing to believe. Or to disbelieve. It is, and quite another to see the proof of one’s convictions floating in the sky.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​She lifted her head. Was he speaking of her or himself?

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Ship ahead!” The call came from the topsail.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain scrambled to his feet and dashed to the [nautical term], Katin completely forgotten. She climbed tolowered her feeoot, and scanninged the horizon for what the lookout had seen.

  ​ ​ ​ ​On the sea, backlit by the light of the orbmoon, floated the unmistakable silhouette of a sailing ship like in a Harvest Feast pageant. And a ship sailing toward them could only mean that there was land ahead.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain called for the sailsship to be loweredturn abreast of the wind, and gradually they ship slowed in the water.

  ​ ​ ​ ​She hurried across the deck to him. “What is the matter?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“They’re running dark.” He nodded toward the ship. “No lights. Either it’s a pirate ship or every one is dead. Either way, we wait until daylight to approach.”

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​Once the dawn came, it took several hours for them to meet the other ship. Its rigging was strange, even to Katin’s untrained eye. It rode very low in the water and had a beaked bow whichthat curved in the air like a swan’s neck. It was clear, bBy the light of day, it was clear that the ship was inhabited, but they made no hostile moves. Fishing nets hung over the side, and bandy-legged men worked to haul catches aboard.

  ​ ​ ​ ​When it came close enough to really see the individuals, a weight lifted from Katin’s heart. Gray hair. Ruddy skin. They must be from her homeland.

  ​ ​ ​ ​How glorious to see a ship filled with people who looked like her.

  ​ ​ ​ ​Captain Stylian stood at the rail and cupped his hands to shout to the other ship. “Where do you hail from?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​A man in tight blue trousers and a long tunic of embroidered silk shouted back. Katin frowned and cocked her head. The wind had garbled what he said. It was almost understandable, but slid so that she could barely distinguish the breaks between words.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain switched to Paku and asked again, but the other man just held up his hands in a shrug. Shaking his head, Captain Stylian said, “It was too much to hope that they spoke Markuth or Paku.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I think that’s a variant of Old Fretian.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​He cocked his head at that. “Worth a try.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​She only ever used Old Fretian to read scripture in its original form and hardly ever spoke it. Katin took a moment to gather her thoughts, trying to martial them into a semblance of order. The declension for this would be masculine interrogative case, which meant that she would have to useappend the appropriate suffix to the word “land.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Wrapping her mind around Fretian, Katin spoke in that tongue. “What land-the you from?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“The Center Kingdom. And yYou?” His next words eluded her. Then came a phrase almost straight from scripture., “. . . sSailing beyond the Moon?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“We from Marth.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain leaned down. “You can understand him?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​It was a relief to switch back to Marskuth. “Some. But we haven’t said anything complicated yet.” Beyond the Moon . . . did they never sail past here?

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Ask how far behind them th
e land is.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin nodded and painfully stitched the question together in her mind. “Land-the, how far?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“Five days.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​Katin reported this back to the captain. She looked past him to the part of their boat that the navigator inhabited. “May I hope that we are going to continueing on?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“That’s what you are paying us for.” He stroked his chin, staring at the sailing ship. “Ask them if they have any charts they’re wantilling to trade.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“What will we offer in exchange?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain studied the ship. “Show him a glowdisc.”

  #

  ​ ​ ​ ​The captain called Katin to his cabin. When she entered, he shut the door behind her and showed her to the map table. There, he had unrolled the chart they had traded for. “Look. We would have missed it with the course we were sailing.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​A narrow spit of land jutted out from a landmass that filled the map. Islands dotted the coastline up and down it, but this one piece reached out into the ocean as though it were a finger pointing to the east. “How large is it?”

  ​ ​ ​ ​“I’m only guessing, but their captain says it’s five days. If we’re here, which he indicated we are, then that length of land alone is longer than the distance from Marth through Arland and into Gavri.”

  ​ ​ ​ ​The scale staggered her and she put a hand on the table to steady herself. If the scale was correct, then this land—her people’s homeland—was three times larger than all of the known countries assembled. The map was mostly concerned with the coasts, but even so, the towns that were shown were so numerous that she could not count them all. One city dominated, clearly, from the way it was drawn upon the map. A great river came through the continent to emerge at the base of the peninsula, and a city occupied both banks, spilling onto the narrow spit.

  ​ ​ ​ ​The script on the map was strange, with letters more simply shaped than what she was used to, all ornamentation stripped from them. Still she recognized the Old Fretian word “remek,” which meant “center.”