The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  After learning of the slaughtered Aidenists and his father's attempt to salvage the disaster, Omra had finally shown the hardness the soldan-shah always knew his son possessed. The zarif stood before him, jaw clenched. "If this does not work, Father, we need to be ready for the worst. If there is to be war, then it must be our war. We must prepare to do more than just defend ourselves--we've got to make certain that we win."

  The soldan-shah knew his son was right.

  Equipping an army required more than just anger and enthusiasm. Across the five soldanates, he could find plenty of willing fighters and warhorses, but the continent had very little metal for swords and armor. Bordered by the desert and the sea, Uraba had always counted on trade. All of their copper, tin, and iron came from Tierra, but now that trade had been cut off, Soldan-Shah Imir did not have sufficient resources to equip the army that this war would require. Uraba needed metal. They had to take it, somehow.

  A decade earlier, across the wide Middlesea on the northern shoreline of stark cliffs, the Urabans had established secret mining operations at Gremurr. The coast was part of Tierra, the far edge of Corag Reach, but the forbidding mountains made the region inaccessible from the north. Since Tierrans could not cross Corag to the Middlesea, they were completely unaware of the Gremurr mines. After the signing of the Edict, it was even more vital that the Uraban presence remain undiscovered. With the advent of war, the soldan-shah would have to turn those mines into a far more extensive operation.

  Now, in the crowded square, Zarif Omra wore a pained, hun

  gry look as he stared at the sunlight reflected from the bronze statue. Bare-chested workers came forward to throw ropes up around Oenar's proud figure, securing loops to the metal arms and neck. The crowds drew back to allow room, and Imir could do nothing but stand and watch.

  With straining muscles and taut ropes, the labor teams pulled down the huge statue, balancing it with ropes and pulleys. When the enormous bronze figure lay on the ground, blacksmiths and metalworkers set up an incredible clamor as they broke apart the statue, which they would melt down and recast into swords, shields, and armor plate.

  It made Imir sad to see such a piece of Olabar's heritage lost, but he did not hesitate to give the order. This one statue would yield enough weapons to win an entire battle, perhaps capture a city. It was the right thing to do.

  Out of the corner of his eye, though, he saw his son staring at the even taller bronze statue of Urec with a calculating look. Melting down the other figure had not yet been suggested. However, if battles continued longer than expected and Uraba's need increased, Soldan-Shah Imir knew he might soon have to make another extremely difficult choice.

  28

  Calay

  When King Korastine heard Kjelnar describe what the Urecari raiders had done to Prester-Marshall Baine and the innocent workers in Ishalem, he felt physically ill. He turned white, his hands clenched, and his eyes burned, but he said nothing. He had no words.

  Marching up from the wharf in the Royal District, the Iborian shipwright had refused to speak to anyone until he saw the king himself. The audience in the throne room gasped and moaned; some dashed out into the halls, spreading the horrendous news.

  This was truly the end of the world. Prophecies from the Book of Aiden resounded in his head, and he no longer had PresterMarshall Baine to advise him. Were these the end times? Had Ondun decided to abandon humanity after all? The king closed his eyes. He could think of no other answer.

  Finished with his tale, Kjelnar bowed, obviously shaken. "With your permission, Majesty, I will return to Iboria and tell this sad news to Destrar Broeck, so that Iboria can begin to prepare."

  Korastine raised his head heavily. "Prepare?"

  "We will summon our shipbuilders. We will cut down many trees. We must arm all existing Tierran ships and build new war vessels."

  Korastine nodded. Of course he was right.

  The leader of Alamont Reach, Destrar Shenro, was already in Calay on other business. When he presented himself at the castle that same afternoon, he demanded an immediate private audience with King Korastine. The king knew what the man was bound to say.

  Alamont was the only landlocked reach of the five that comprised Tierra. A spacious land of rolling hills that received plenty of rain, Alamont was perfect for raising crops. The everyday people were well-muscled from their work in the fields, and Destrar Shenro had often made the comparison that wielding a scythe was little different from wielding a sword.

  At Shenro's request, the two men met in the castle armory. Destrar Shenro, a thin man in his late twenties and decidedly lankier than most Alamont farmers, had a wife and three healthy

  sons. His storehouses and treasury were well stocked--yet he was an impatient man, always feeling incensed, looking for something suspicious. With a tablet in hand, Shenro had already begun making a tally of the swords, halberds, spears, and shields available to the Tierran army. He shook his head as Korastine arrived. "This won't be enough."

  The armory chamber was dim and cramped. It smelled of oil, leather, and metal. Outside, sparks flew from a grinding wheel as one of the city blacksmiths sharpened a long-unused sword. His mop-headed young apprentice sported a colorfully bruised black eye that had swollen so nearly shut that he had to squint at the daggers in his hands as he used a whetstone.

  "We have enough weapons for all of our trained soldiers," Korastine said. "That is all we have needed."

  "Then we don't have enough soldiers," Shenro said gravely. "In both, you are probably correct."

  "Good. Then you agree we should increase our conscription? Alamont will double its number of soldier-volunteers. All the other reaches are bound to do the same once they hear Kjelnar's report."

  The king's first instinct was to wait, to send an angry ambassador to demand apologies and reparations from the soldanshah. But Korastine couldn't think of any concession that would prove adequate, and he doubted his outraged people would ever believe Urecari promises anyway.

  "Again you are right, Destrar. Better to have a large army and not need it, than to be caught defenseless."

  Every year, in order to maintain Tierra's standing army, five hundred conscripts came from each of the five reaches, and one hundred from the district of Calay; the mixed groups served one year in each reach, so that at the end of five years they completed their tour of Tierra in Calay as part of the city guard.

  The military training camps in Alamont were larger than in other reaches, not because Shenro had plans to go to war with his neighbors, but because he had what Korastine called "soldier dreams." Shenro listened to tales and songs of battles, studied his military history, and glorified heroic warriors. Because Alamont was landlocked, Shenro and his people could not simply sail off to sea, although the call of the wind and waves was in the blood of every Aidenist. That, Korastine thought, must be the reason Shenro felt so frustrated.

  As they talked about plans for defense, Destrar Shenro continued to set aside swords, marveling at the intricate metalwork done by Corag swordmakers, while the blades fashioned by Calay blacksmiths looked sturdy but plain. Shenro made a disappointed sound. "We should dispatch messengers to Corag, tell Destrar Siescu that we will need many, many more blades."

  Korastine was about to step off a cliff, but once the fire had consumed Ishalem--and even more so, now that PresterMarshall Baine and his followers had been martyred--Tierra had gone over the brink, and now they were all falling headlong into infinity.

  "I will call the other destrars," Korastine said. "Because we all represent Tierra, we must all make sacrifices and fight the Urabans together. Before the sun sets today, I will issue a decree calling for twice the number of soldier-volunteers from the people of Tierra. We must build our army immediately."

  Since her mother's death, Anjine had rarely gone into Queen Sena's quarters. But a year had passed, and she and Mateo decided to open the doors and windows, to clear the dust. She wasn't sure whether or not her father would be angry at t
he intrusion.

  Inside the queen's chamber, the red drapes, red cushions on the furniture, and red diamond-shaped panes in the windows

  were all marks of Queen Sena. Some had called her the Crimson Queen during her life. Anjine missed her mother, as any child would, though Sena had always treated the girl more as an embodiment of expectations and obligations than as a beloved daughter. Korastine, though, treated her as a real person, someone he genuinely liked.

  When she was younger, Anjine's upbringing had been a source of friction between the king and queen. The king had let her and Mateo run about the castle, play with the staff, spend days out in the city, while Sena wanted her brought up like a proper lady. Korastine had always assumed that there was no need to rush the princess into her responsibilities

  Now Anjine and Mateo opened the leaded windows to let the breezes in. She picked up one of the cushions and pounded it, sending up a dust cloud that made her cough.

  "Tolli," Mateo said, using her nickname since they were alone, "do you think your father will ever marry again? "

  Anjine had pondered the question herself many times. "That depends on whether he falls in love."

  "Did he fall in love the first time?" Mateo had known Sena too; in fact, Anjine's mother had often looked frowningly at him, certain the young man--who was not even of noble blood--was a bad influence on her daughter.

  Anjine answered his question with a shrug. Political reasons usually trumped romantic ones. She was sure that the destrars had been urging King Korastine to marry again, though to no avail thus far.

  Sena had not shown an overabundance of warmth toward her daughter, nor toward Korastine, as far as Anjine could tell, but she had thoroughly accepted her role of helping the royal heir to be trained as a leader. Anjine carried the blood of Aiden in her veins, and her mother wanted to make sure the girl lived up to

  her expectations. Sena showed a glimmer of pride when Anjine completed each portion of her studies: religious education, history, politics, and geographical knowledge.

  Queen Sena had always considered it unseemly for a ruler to learn the rough dialects of the far reaches. "They are your subjects, Anjine," Sena once said in a scolding tone, as if the answer should have been obvious. "It is their obligation to speak formal Tierran, or to send an ambassador who can."

  Anjine knew that her father, contrary to Sena's objections, had tried to become conversant in several dialects, but had learned only a smattering of words. At his age, tackling a new tongue was a daunting prospect.

  Sena had been the younger sister of Mayvar, an influential noble from Alamont, and her selection as queen had been the result of many convoluted political wranglings. Korastine had been in a rush to take a wife to cement his hold on Tierra after his father's death. The marriage to Sena was the choice least likely to cause frictions, and the aged prester-marshall had blessed the union so wholeheartedly that he quashed any grumbling before it could gain strength.

  Not quite overbearing but certainly protective, Sena did not appreciate the king's loose attitude of letting their only daughter enjoy part of her childhood as a child. Conceptually, at least, Sena respected the king's promise to raise Ereo Bornan's son, Mateo, in the castle, but she disapproved of the boy's close friendship with Anjine and the casually paternal warmth that Korastine extended toward him.

  Mateo and Anjine had continued to dress up as the street scamps Tycho and Tolli, to make up their own adventures in the streets of Calay. Though Queen Sena knew about this, the two were nimble enough to evade her, and often came back excited and dirty, much to Sena's consternation.

  The queen barely tolerated Mateo's presence in her daughter's classes, even though Korastine insisted he should be allowed to participate. "You may listen and you may learn, young man," she had said, frowning, "but the knowledge will do you little good. Anjine will rule Tierra, but your aspirations must be much more limited. The best you can hope for is to be captain of the royal guard."

  Sena had expected Mateo to be crestfallen, but he had simply grinned. "No, the best I can hope for is to be the smartest captain of the royal guard.":

  Destined to be the next queen, Anjine supposed she would be flooded with marriage offers herself when she was older, though Tierran nobility tended to marry late. She knew the choice of a particular husband wouldn't entirely be hers, but she expected at least to be consulted in the matter. She thought of the giggly women at court who swooned over any handsome guard who deigned to smile at them. She promised herself she would never be like that.

  Now Anjine turned, startled to see her father at the doorway to Sena's chambers. Korastine's expression was unreadable, his eyes red. She didn't know how long he had been there, watching the two of them. Mateo quickly spun, ready to defend Anjine if trouble threatened, but he relaxed quickly when he saw who it was.

  "They told me I'd find you here," Korastine said evenly. "We have to talk."

  Anjine blurted, "We just wanted to let some fresh air into Mother's room. We were thinking of her, honoring her memory."

  Mateo interjected, "Please don't be angry with us, Majesty."

  Korastine looked slowly at the young man. Anjine realized that her father had barely noticed where they were at all. "I'm not angry...not with you. There has been terrible news from Ishalem."

  "Ishalem?" Anjine shook her head--the city had already burned down. What could be worse?

  Korastine told them.

  "I came to speak with both of you, because today our lives have changed. I foolishly hoped that tempers would die down and cooler heads would prevail as the leaders realized how much we all have to lose. I always considered the soldan-shah to be a wise man, and I believed he respected me. But now we have no choice." He heaved a long, cold sigh that sounded like a winter wind. "Mateo, your father was one of my bravest soldiers, a captain of the royal guard--and I daresay, even a friend. I promised him I would raise you in a way that would make him proud. Now it is time for you to make all of us proud."

  Anjine had heard the story many times and at first assumed that Mateo was embellishing it, but her father insisted it was true. Despite the hurt Mateo had suffered, Anjine was glad that it had brought them together.

  Ereo had been the captain of King Korastine's personal guard. After the death of King Kiracle, while people thought Korastine was weak, several merchant families demanded to have their taxes reduced and certain types of shipping declared tariff free. Korastine refused, and the incensed merchants set a trap for him in the streets on his way back from the launch of a diplomatic ship. They hired thugs dressed as Urecari sailors to assassinate the king.

  Ereo fought like a whirlwind to defend his ruler. Two other royal guards were killed. Though Ereo managed to defeat the last of the would-be assassins, he suffered a mortal wound himself. While he lay dying in the street, Ereo begged Korastine to take care of his five-year-old son, Mateo, whose mother had died three years earlier from fever. The grateful king swore to do so.

  Despite their disguises, the assassins turned out to be local Calay men, and the plot of the merchants was exposed. Korastine had them all executed and seized their assets, and Mateo grew up in a special position in the castle. Though not a noble, he had the king's blessing.

  Mateo looked much older now as he glanced at Princess Anjine, then turned back to the king. "How do you need me to serve, Majesty?"

  "I always thought you were too young, but that is because I saw you as the boy you were, not the man you are becoming. You are old enough." He looked at his daughter. "You are both old enough. I'm afraid you'll have to become adults sooner than I intended. From this day forth, Mateo, you must be a soldier. And you, Anjine"--Korastine wrapped his arms around her--"you must prepare to be queen."

  29

  The Luminara

  That night, on calm seas, Criston drew the deck watch. It had been months since they'd seen any sign of land.

  Although there seemed little chance the Luminara would strike rocks or a reef out in the midd
le of nowhere, this was uncharted territory. On this moonless night, Captain Shay had ordered the sails tied up, and the ship drifted gently for hours. Most of the crew was asleep. Up in the night sky, Griston saw constellations that did not match the star patterns he had long ago memorized.

  Carrying a whale-oil lantern, he slowly made a circuit of the ship, always alert. He peered overboard at the ghostly out

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  154 Kevin J. Anderson

  lines of waves, but no sea monsters came up to feed at night. He had seen many wonders since the beginning of the voyage and couldn't wait to get home and tell Adrea all about them. Now he placed the lantern atop a barrel, sat down on a crate, and took out a sheet of paper Captain Shay had torn from one of his journal books. With a lead stylus, Criston scratched out a letter--the twelfth one he had written since his departure from Calay.

  On the paper he expressed his thoughts, his love, writing for Adrea's eyes alone; he would trust the merciful tides to bring the letter to her. Orico, the cook, relinquished empty glass bottles to Criston for his odd obsession.

  True to his parting promise, Criston filled his letter with the things he had seen, the places the Luminara had gone. So far, he had discovered that the empty ocean was anything but empty. Right now the night-dappled sea was aglow with luminous plankton that skirled just beneath the surface like a silvery blue storm, an ethereal light that drifted and twitched, flushed into intense brightness in the ship's wake.

  A glowing swarm of bubble jellyfish drifted alongside the Luminara. Whenever the jellyfish bumped into each other, they released a crackling spark in a discharge that drove them apart again. The creatures had floated along with them for the past three nights, sinking to the darker depths when the sun rose.

  Criston wrote about them, imagining Adrea was there beside him. "Captain Shay was so excited the first time he saw the jellyfish that he ordered specimens drawn up in a bucket, but the moment he touched the creature's membrane, his hand was so severely stung that he still wears a bandage, days later."