by Licia Troisi
“It’s nothing, it’s just that … I have to go on a voyage, a long way away from here. That’s why I’ve come to see you. I’ll be gone for a while.”
He was reluctant to tell her the truth. The important thing was that he’d come to see her one last time. The rest didn’t matter.
His mother studied him carefully, trying to read his troubled face. Then she lowered her eyes. “She’s living on the other side of town now,” she murmured, “in a house along the shore.”
Sennar set out on foot. The sky was grey and stormy and heavy with rain. The sea stretched out immensely before him.
Waves broke violently over the dock, submerging everything they touched. It was the powerful sea of his youth, the same sea he and his father had pulled fish from on holidays. The same sea he’d dived into happily. Now it seemed angry—angry at him.
Sennar set off along the jetty. The breakers rose up like mountains, but he wasn’t afraid. He let a wave crash over him and stepped out unharmed, encircled by a blue barrier, a magic force field he’d conjured with a simple protective spell. “You’ve been vanquished,” he said, laughing to himself. Then, in the distance, he saw the house. Cold and rain-soaked, he shuddered and felt his courage slip away.
When he arrived, he paused and looked around. Maybe he could stop by the tavern first. It was nearby, after all, and he needed to drop in sooner or later. He put off visiting his sister and changed course.
An elderly man with a white beard and a sunburned face was struggling to push a barrel toward the doorway, all the while cursing the rain.
Sennar recognized him immediately. Only Faraq could brew up such a concoction of swear words. When he drew near, Sennar shouted, “You need a hand, there?”
The man turned with a start. “Are you out of your mind? You want this barrel to flatten me? Who the devil are you?”
Sennar held back a smile. The grumpy old innkeeper hadn’t changed a bit. “You don’t remember me?”
Faraq looked him over, and then slapped his hand to his forehead. “Of course! You’re Sennar, the sorcerer. Good grief, I’m really getting old! Last I saw you, you were just a kid. Now you’re taller than I am.” He laughed heartily and dealt Sennar two cheery slaps on the shoulder. “Now why is it we’re out here like sponges soaking up the rain? Come on inside.”
The tavern was nothing like what Sennar remembered. It seemed to have shrunk. The sorcerer took a seat at one of the heavy wooden tables and Faraq disappeared behind the counter.
“This calls for a celebration. And with this weather we’ll need something strong,” said the old man. He came to the table with two glasses and a bottle of purplish liquid. “Welcome back, kid.”
Faraq raised his glass and tossed the contents down in one go. Sennar looked over at him. On his last visit to the inn, Faraq’s hair had just started to grey and the network of wrinkles around his eyes had been barely visible, and even then, only when he laughed. By the gods, how long has it been? Sennar took a sip from his glass. It was enough to set him coughing, his throat in flames.
“How is it a man like you can’t handle a little Shark?” Faraq shot out, laughing.
“It’s the first time I’ve had it. Where I live now, this stuff doesn’t exist.”
It was strong liquor, Shark. Tradition held that every boy on his sixteenth birthday was to be taken by the men of the village for a drinking bout at Faraq’s tavern to celebrate the passage into adulthood.
“You missed out on a few things, leaving the way you did,” Faraq joked. “Though I heard you made a career for yourself. Serving on the Council, right?”
Sennar nodded.
“He’s a talented one, our sorcerer!” Faraq slapped him hard on the shoulder.
Sennar was glad to be back among his straightforward kinsmen, with their roughness, their spirit. He loved his native land.
After a number of glasses—Sennar couldn’t keep track—Faraq asked him why he’d returned. Sennar, his face flushed with alcohol, told him the entire story.
Faraq was staggered. “It’s sheer madness, Sennar. Scores of people have tried to reach the Underworld. And you know what? They never make it back.”
“I know, I know. But that’s my mission, and there’s no turning back. I just need to find someone crazy enough to bring me out there. And I’d like you to help me find him.”
“There won’t be a soul willing to do it.”
“In which case, I’ll have to go on my own.”
Faraq stared at him. “I can’t figure out if you’re a lunatic or a hero.”
Sennar laughed. “I’m a lunatic. What do I know about heroism? I didn’t even have the guts to tell my mother what I’m about to do. In fact, don’t you say anything to her, either. I wouldn’t want her to worry.”
Faraq shook his head. “As you wish.”
“So, will you help me?” Sennar asked, getting to his feet.
The old man downed his last sip and walked Sennar to the door. “I can’t guarantee anything, but come back tomorrow.”
The rain was still falling. Sennar set off toward Kala’s house, this time without hesitation. He knocked. No response. He knocked again. The door opened suddenly.
“Who the devil’s knocking out there?”
It was Kala, without a doubt. Sennar remembered her as an immature girl in her twenties, but here in the doorway stood a fully formed woman, her round face framed by a tumble of auburn curls. For a split second they stared at one another, frozen. Sennar watched the anger mount slowly in his sister’s pale eyes, the same blue as his own. Then the door slammed in his face.
“Kala. Kala! Open up!” Sennar pounded the door with his fists, rainwater pouring off his clothes. “In the name of the gods, I need to speak to you! This could be the last time we see each other.”
“Bless the gods if I never see you again!” Kala yelled from inside.
“Fine then. I’ll just wait here until you decide to open up.”
The door swung suddenly open.
“If you don’t get out of here, I swear I’ll call the guards.”
“Go ahead. I have nothing to lose.”
Kala made to slam the door again, but Sennar blocked it with his arm.
“Move your damned arm or I’ll cut it off.”
“I only want to talk.”
From behind Kala’s skirt a little girl’s curly head peeked out. “Who is it, Mommy?”
“You, get inside,” Kala ordered. “Go on now, there’s no place for you here,” she hissed at her brother.
Sennar stood there, his jaw dropped. “I have a niece. I have a niece and you didn’t even tell me!”
“For heaven’s sake,” Kala blurted, exasperated. “Come in, then, come in.”
Sennar entered, dripping rainwater on the wooden floors of the large central room. He looked around. A fireplace warmed the house, and a bouquet of white flowers graced the dining room table. The little girl stood a few inches away, staring up at him, wide-eyed.
“Mana, I told you to get out of here! Are you deaf?” her mother scolded her.
The little girl toddled out of the room.
“How old is she?” Sennar muttered.
“What’s it to you?” Kala prodded.
Now that he had his sister in front of him and could finally speak to her, he felt too exhausted to think.
“Well then? What is it you want, Sennar?”
“I don’t know.” After so many years of silence, what could he say to her? He took a deep breath. “I was a child when I left, Kala. Then Dad died. And Soana insisted that if I wanted to fight against the Tyrant I’d have to stay the course, to become a sorcerer.”
Kala glared at him with disdain. “You’re just like Dad.”
Her words cut into him. “Dad wanted to do his part in the fight for freedom. What he did was nothing but admirable.”
“Do his part, huh? He forced Mom to live on the battlefield and raise her children in a war zone. He sacrificed the happiness of three people j
ust to play the squire to his beloved knight. And you’re just like him. You went off to play hero, to go save who knows what. But you’re not a hero, Sennar. You should have stayed with us. We needed you. Mom slaved like a mule her whole life to make ends meet. And I had to get married with no dowry.” Kala lowered her voice. “I loved you, Sennar. When you took off with that witch, you were too young, you didn’t know what you were doing. But it’s eleven years now that you’ve been holed up studying who knows where. What’d you think, that a visit every now and then was enough to make up for the fact you weren’t here?”
“I’ve missed you both, too. So much.”
“Oh please! Every time you came back, Mom was like a little girl with a new doll. And then you’d go away, and I had to listen to her sob. It was infuriating. Why didn’t she make you come back? Why didn’t she look you in the face and tell you how selfish you were? No, she always admired you, she always supported you.” Kala’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m not like her. And now it’s time for you to go, please. And don’t ever come back.”
Sennar had a lump in his throat. “I love you now just as much as I loved you then, Kala. And your daughter is so beautiful. Really.”
He leaned over to kiss his sister on the cheek, but she stepped back.
“Why did you come here?” she asked.
“I’m taking off, Kala. I don’t know when I’ll be back. I just wanted to say good-bye.”
Kala regarded her brother in silence.
“This voyage frightens me,” said Sennar, as if speaking to himself. “If I listened to my legs right now, I’d run in the opposite direction. But at the same time, I know I have to go. It’s strange, isn’t it? That’s how it always seems to be for me.”
Two tears slid down Kala’s cheeks.
“Can I say good-bye to my niece?” Sennar asked.
Kala nodded and quickly dried her face. “Mana!”
The girl came running and stopped shyly in the middle of the room.
“She’s four,” Kala whispered.
Sennar rubbed the child’s head, then quickly let himself out the door.
The next afternoon, the tavern was packed. Sennar threaded his way between the tables and headed straight for Faraq.
“Have you found anyone?” he asked under his breath.
Faraq glanced around, then pulled Sennar closer. “It’s not so simple …”
“If there’s really no one, I’d be happy with a fishing boat, a sail boat—anything that floats and has room for one,” Sennar cut in.
“Relax, relax! You haven’t even turned twenty yet and you’re already that eager to die? My son knows somebody, but it’s going to cost you.”
“The cost is no issue.”
“Tonight, at the western pier.”
“I’ll be there.”
Sennar slipped out of his mother’s house wrapped in a long black robe that covered him from head to toe. It was a clear night, the sea slick as oil. There was no one at the pier. He sat with his feet dangling in empty space. On the water’s surface, a thin sickle of moon gave off a spectral glow.
“Are you the one?” asked a woman’s voice—a low tone, almost hoarse.
Sennar turned. A figure loomed behind him, wrapped in a long cloak. He hadn’t noticed her approach. “What do you mean?”
“What, are you brick-headed?” she asked, irritated. “Are you the one who’s looking to go to the Underworld?”
“Yes, I’m the one.”
The woman sat without removing her hood. “A million dinars,” she said flatly.
He was thrown off for a moment. “Huh?”
“You understood just fine. Do you have the cash?”
Sennar did the math quickly in his head; if he threw in a bit of his own, he could manage. “Your price seems a bit high.”
The woman laughed. “You don’t like it? The last guy who made your little trip disappeared without a trace. Two years later, they found the mast of his ship—and nothing more.”
“When can you leave?” Sennar asked.
“It depends. I’m told you have a map.”
Sennar cursed himself. “Not with me,” he responded, embarrassed. He made for a terrible conspirator.
The woman stood and began to walk off. “Tomorrow, here, same time.”
“Couldn’t we meet when there’s still daylight? I’d like to see the rest of the crew, take a look at the ship.”
She leaned in close, until their two faces nearly touched. In the moonlight, Sennar could make out two pitch-black eyes. When she spoke, he felt her breath on his skin.
“You’ve got some nerve. Don’t make me change my mind. Tomorrow, then, my little angel.”
She stared at him another moment, then turned and disappeared into the night.
The next evening, when Sennar arrived at the pier, he found the woman there waiting for him. Again she wore a long cloak.
“Come this way; it’s not wise to stay out in the open.”
He followed her, though with a feeling of unease, as if he were about to walk into trouble. They went the length of the beach, an arm’s length apart. She ordered him to walk through the water and he obeyed, despite the frigid cold of the winter sea. On and on they went until they reached a small inlet hidden among the rocks.
As a child, Sennar remembered, he’d been forbidden to come here. It was dangerous, he’d been told. Now, he followed the woman as she squeezed herself through a crevice in the rock face and found himself standing in a candlelit cavern.
“No one will bother us here,” she said.
Sennar took a look around. It appeared as if someone had been living there. In the center was a large, rickety table, cluttered with glasses and bottles of Shark, while all around the outer edge a series of passageways presumably led off into other rooms.
“Have a seat.”
Sennar obeyed without protest, his eyes on her.
Finally, the woman unfastened her cloak, letting it fall dramatically from her shoulders.
She was nearer thirty than twenty, with straight black hair that fell to her waist. Her observed the curve of her hips and her ample bosom, bound tightly in a velvet bodice. Apart from her plunging neckline, she was dressed like a man: leather pants, boots, a dagger hitched to her belt. Sennar was dumbstruck.
“What’s the problem? Never seen a woman before?” she asked.
Without taking her eyes off him, she pulled a chair up to the table and sat with her legs crossed. Immediately, she grabbed a bottle and filled two glasses. She offered the first to Sennar and downed the second like water. “Now then, do you have a name?”
Sennar responded feebly, “What about you?”
“I’ll tell you at the end of our little chat. That’s if I feel like it, of course. Pull out the map, already.”
Sennar dug through his pockets. There was something unsettling about this woman. He went on rummaging anxiously until he felt her hand brush against his hip.
“Could it be this ragged scrap of paper?” she said coolly.
He lowered his gaze. “Excuse me, I’m a bit out of sorts. Yes, that’s the one.”
The woman snatched the piece of parchment from his tunic and gave it a passing glance. Then she dropped it back on the table. “I’ve seen dozens of maps like this. Completely useless.”
“And why is that?” Sennar asked, on the defensive.
“Who do you think you are, kid, the first person who’s ever tried to get to the Underworld? Do you have any idea how many have come before you? There are plenty of maps being passed around: obscure scribbles, trails carved in with hatchets. They all swear their own map is the one. It’s a wonder, then, that none of these brave adventurers ever actually sets sail. The few that have dared are long since fish food.”
Sennar downed his glass of Shark, snatched back the piece of parchment, and regained his courage. “Listen, I’m telling you that this is the map that shows the way to the Underworld,” he said. He forced himself to look her in the eyes. She was b
reathtakingly beautiful.
The woman shot him a sarcastic glance. “Of course! Let me guess: the merchant who sold it to you swore he’d traveled there once a year for the last decade or so.”
Sennar took another sip of Shark. “No, there was no merchant at all. I’m not sure how it ended up there, but I found it buried in the Royal Library of Makrat. There was another piece of parchment attached to it, marked with the seal of the Land of Water. A document, in other words, certifying this map to be a copy of the one used in the Overworld’s attempted invasion.”
“And with this map, what do you prove? For all we know, that invasion attempt never took place,” she fired back, challenging him.
Sennar shook his head. “Of course it took place. I’m certain of it. Immediately afterward, an ambassador from the Underworld went before the Council of Kings and made it clear that if anyone dared approach their kingdom again, the consequences would be catastrophic. The event is reported in every history volume I’ve consulted, and always in the same way. If the invaders were able to get that far, it means that the original map was accurate. Which means that this copy of that map points to the exact location of the Underworld.” His entire explanation had come out in one breath. Sennar leaned back in his chair with satisfaction.
The woman was not easy to convince. “What do you mean, the exact location? This map is illegible.”
Sennar held his ground. “I’ve studied the map at length. What about it do you not understand?”
She slid her chair toward Sennar’s and moved so close their shoulders touched. She pointed to a few places on the parchment. “These borders don’t resemble any coast I’ve ever seen. This landmass here is unrecognizable. These islands simply don’t exist. And really, what is this inkblot?”
Sennar was thrown off. Her nearness confounded him; the mere touch of her shoulder sent a shiver down his spine. He shifted farther away from her in his chair. “That coast there is the eastern edge of the Land of the Sea. When you compare this map to others, it’s identical. That landmass is an unknown island, and the archipelago you see there is linked to Ooren, the Winter Islands. And your so-called inkblot, well, that’s the entrance to the Underworld.” He paused. “A whirlpool, to be precise.”