The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  "Holy Joron... is my favorite story," Ilrida said. The words sounded rough and unnatural when she spoke them, but she seemed proud of her ability to communicate. She had worked hard to memorize the names of the tales.

  "You like the story of Holy Joron and the land of Terravitae?" Anjine asked.

  Ilrida smiled and nodded. "He wait for Ondun."

  "I know many Joron stories--the Silver Waterfall, the talking

  storm, and the lost flock of sheep in the whispering grove. Let me tell them to you to help you learn our language."

  Ilrida listened with rapt attention as Anjine related the familiar descriptions of the calm animals, the orchards laden with fruit, the streams so full offish that a person could cross by stepping on the backs of trout. She didn't think Urida's eyes would ever stop sparkling.

  63

  Olabar, Saedran District

  Though he was released to accompany Sen Sherufa na-Oa, Aldo found it hard to believe he was no longer a prisoner. He glanced about furtively as Sherufa guided him through Olabar's Saedran District, sure there must be eyes watching him, to inform Soldan-Shah Imir of his every move. If Aldo bolted toward the harbor and stowed away on a ship bound for the far shores of the Middlesea, would they cut him down in these strange, foreign streets?¦:, But nobody paid him any particular attention. The guards were gone.

  Aldo couldn't believe it. "I won't be going back to the prison house?"

  Sherufa's brow furrowed. "Why, no. Imir released you to me. He wants me to talk with you and learn from you."

  'Just like that?"

  'Just like that. Imir trusts me." She chuckled. "Besides, if you run, where could you go? You're on a different continent, among strangers. Since you're a chartsman, I assume you are an intelligent and logical person. Your best choice is to stay here with me.

  I always have a spare room. Everyone in the district knows it, and I've had more than my share of unexpected guests."

  "Other captives like me?"

  She laughed. "Oh, no! More often it's angry wives who stay with me to leave their husbands with a cold bed for a few nights. Sometimes it's out-of-town travelers with nowhere else to stay. They're always welcome, so long as they're courteous and can offer some interesting conversation."

  Sherufa strolled ahead of him as though this were any other day and she had simply gone to the market--to pick out a Saedran chartsman rather than fresh fish or a sack of grain.

  "Is there a library here? " he asked. "I'd like to study your volumes. They must be different from the ones that Sen Leo used to teach me."

  "It wouldn't be much of a Saedran District without a library, now, would it?" She shrugged and he sensed that she was slightly introverted and quite a bit more curious about him than she wanted to show. "All of the volumes belong to me, however, so you can read them from my own shelves. I'd love to share them with someone. Chartsmen are rare here, and the soldanshah needs them for his warships. Most are taken overland to the Oceansea. Chartsmen don't stay here in Olabar--except for me."

  ; The streets and dwellings around Aldo had a familiar look of Saedran architecture and decorations: apothecary shops, alchemists, portrait painters, physicians and astrologers, all of the usual professions. The people wore familiar garments, as well.

  "I have the perfect memory, and I've studied records, charts, and tales of the Traveler, but I've never actually left Olabar. I prefer to travel in my imagination, safe at home."

  Remembering the dreams from his youth, Aldo could not understand a person uninterested in seeing the wonders of the

  world. Why, he had practically begged Sen Leo for his first assignment. But perhaps Saedrans were different here in Uraba, surrounded by an altogether different culture.

  Seeing Sherufa in the street, groups of children ran toward her, calling out together in a good-natured harmony, asking for sweets. Aldo didn't know what to do, but the children were uninterested in him. From pockets hidden in the folds in her skirt, Sherufa brought out wrapped candies and tossed them into the air with flickering birdlike movements. The children jumped and scrambled to catch them. She beamed contentedly.

  Aldo's people kept a culture unto themselves, and the Saedrans in Uraba were as insular as they were everywhere else. Here, they lived in the shadow of Urecari churches rather than Aidenist kirks, but their situation was similar. It was true--as the soldan-shah had declared--that Saedrans had neither Aidenist nor Urecari sympathies. The goal of all trained Saedran scholars was to complete the Mappa Mundi. By fulfilling that destiny, his people would be allowed to return to their sunken homeland that had vanished long ago.

  They reached the door of a small stuccoed house with a tile roof, her residence. On her stoop, someone had left a basket of bread and three fresh eggs tucked into a folded cloth. She picked up the food without wonder or surprise and opened the door to her home, stepping aside so Aldo could enter first, as an honored guest. He had nothing of his own.

  "You have no garments? No belongings?" she asked.

  "I didn't have much chance to pack while the Urabans were attacking my ship," he said with a bitter edge in his voice.

  "I'll put out the call. Don't worry. We'll find everything you need. We take care of our own."

  Sen Sherufa certainly seemed warm-hearted, charming, and well liked, though she had never married. When he asked her

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  about it, she said, "I spent too much time with my nose in books, documents, and chronicles. I rarely looked up long enough to take notice of a potential husband, and I never felt the need to have children."

  Aldo chuckled. "You don't need a family of your own. Everyone here treats you like a favorite aunt."

  Inside her home, Sherufa showed him her library, the valued books she kept on her shelves. Aldo studied the spines and read the titles. Sen Sherufa owned quite an eclectic mix of tomes, and he knew he could offer her a great deal of information... if he decided he could trust her.

  "Because I kept to myself, always studying, but never flaunting my knowledge, no one discovered until relatively late in my life that I had the perfect recall," Sherufa explained. "Belatedly, I memorized maps, constellations, and stories. My mind is full of details about things I've never seen, places I've never visited." She smiled--wistfully, it seemed. "When the soldan-shah learned of my skills, he brought me into his palace."

  "Why did he need a chartsman in the palace?" Aldo slid another volume back onto the shelf and removed the next one, which was not a proper book at all but merely a ledger of all the merchant ships that had come into port over a five-year oeriod.

  "Imir wanted to hear my stories. He would sit back with his eyes closed, a goblet of wine in his hand, and ask me for one tale after another after another." She took a seat, turning her chair so she could look at him. "I'm good at recounting other people's adventures. I just don't wish to have any of my own."

  "It's not the same," Aldo said in a low voice. "I promise you that."

  "Maybe so, but so it is."

  "And that's how you came to be friends with the soldanshah?"

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  Sen Sherufa's gaze was distant. "He wanted to take me as his wife--his fourth, I believe--but I refused."

  Aldo didn't know whether to be more surprised that the soldan-shah wanted a Saedran wife or that Sen Sherufa had turned him down. "Was he angry with you?"

  "Oh, Imir still maintains his hope, and I let him keep that hope, but my calling is elsewhere. Because I remain a virgin, the sikaras find me laughable, but what does their derision matter to me? They'd have no respect for a Saedran woman even if I were promiscuous!"

  Aldo could see how Imir would find her attractive, though Sherufa did not bother to make herself traditionally beautiful. Her skirts were trimmed with color and fitted just tightly enough to show some of her generous figure, but not in a seductive way. The fact that she was exotic and unattainable had probably made her even more intriguing to the soldan-shah.

  "Imi
r grants me anything I ask of him... but then, I've never made any difficult requests. He knew that I'd love to speak with another chartsman. I think he was more glad for your capture because it would put the two of us together, and make me happy, than because of any strategic knowledge you might have."

  "But he does expect you to pump me for information." It wasn't a question.

  "Maybe." Sen Sherufa walked into the kitchen, where she poured them each a drink from a water pitcher in which floated sliced lemons and flower petals. "He wants you to tell me stories, so I'll have more tales to entertain him."

  "I'd like to learn something as well," Aldo said cautiously. "We can exchange information. Do you have... any maps of Uraba?"

  "Maps." Sen Sherufa's eyes lit up. She met Aldo's gaze as she handed him a glass. "Oh, you mean the Mappa Mundi?"

  "You know of the Mappa Mundi? The great project?"

  "I'm a Saedran, am I not? A chartsman, even if I don't travel--I told you that. Because we are so isolated, I'm sure my poor map is quite out of date. I have little opportunity to gain more information."

  Aldo's heart pounded. "Now you have that opportunity. We both do."

  Sherufa went to one of her cupboards and furtively removed a stack of fired clay plates and bowls to expose a wooden backing. "Nobody else knows about this.. .well, not many. Since I'm the only scholar and chartsman here, I keep my own copy so that I can make tentative additions and corrections as I read my books."

  She slid out the thin boards so she could unfasten a broad sheet of yellowed paper. On it, Aldo saw the outlines of the world, intricately detailed landforms, the coastline, rivers and hills, Uraban villages, the boundaries of all the soldanates. In one quick glimpse, Aldo learned more about Uraba than he had ever known before.

  The northern half of the map, however, showing the continent of Tierra, was both sketchy and inaccurate. Some features of the coastline were exaggerated, others nonexistent, particularly in the isolated reaches of Iboria and Soeland.

  Aldo drank in the lines and markings, reading the Saedran characters, committing every detail to memory. He followed the outlines of the Middlesea, and was surprised by the especially thorough mapping of the northern coast, which was blocked from Tierran exploration by the rugged Corag mountains, as he had seen himself. Aldo marveled as he meshed these details with what he already knew.

  The soldan-shah had hoped Sen Sherufa would make Aldo want to stay in Olabar and offer his services. Seeing this version

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  of the map, however, produced the opposite reaction. He felt a fiery determination to get back to Calay. He had to bring this knowledge to Sen Leo!

  But he also had an obligation to Sherufa, to share his knowledge with the ultimate goal of completing the Mappa Mundi. Aidenist and Urecari politics did not matter to them.

  "I can help you fill in the blanks," he said. "Together you and I can make the most complete map of the world that Saedrans have ever produced."

  64

  Olabar Palace

  Though Adrea averted her gaze, as a slave should, her heart was determined. She carried a lacquered tray bearing a bowl of cool yogurt mixed with mashed mango to the zarif's chambers. Few people in the palace recalled that Zarif Omra had shown her favor years ago during the raid on Windcatch, and he had paid no special attention to her since then.

  Now, though, she prayed that he remembered. She was risking everything.

  She walked forward with silent grace, maintaining the appearance that she belonged here. It would be a long while before anyone noticed that she had abandoned her regular tasks.

  Having just returned from an expedition to the Yuarej soldanate where he inspected military encampments and staging fields, Omra now sequestered himself in a private chamber to look over military maps and tally his troops, ships, and weapons. Adrea knew that Cliaparia planned to hold a private feast for him that evening. The zarif's wife would oversee the prepara

  tions and had given very specific instructions to the kitchen staff. This would be Adrea's one chance.

  She entered with the tray and set it on the low table beside his desk. Without looking up, Omra merely gestured her away as he scribbled his figures, added his sums, but she remained, her throat working, her lips moving as she tried to remember what it felt like to form words and speak openly after so long.

  Omra glanced at her, his dark eyes narrowed with impatience; then he paused as recognition flickered across his face. After five years, he still remembered her.

  Before he could say anything, Adrea astonished him by speaking in perfect Uraban. "There is a plot to kill you, Zarif Omra. You will die tonight, unless you listen to me." Her voice sounded completely foreign to her, but it strengthened with every word.

  Omra stared at her and stroked his dark, pointed beard. "So you can speak, after all."

  "More importantly, I can listen. A slave overhears things. I know all about the plot."

  Omra seemed more amused than frightened. "Very well, tell me."

  Adrea shook her head. "Not yet. I will reveal what I know only if you grant me something in return."

  His brows lifted in amusement. Really?" He laughed. "I remember how scrappy you were when we captured you. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that your spirit was never broken, no matter how well you've cooperated during your time here."

  "I require something from you, Zarif," she repeated coldly. "If you don't agree, then they can kill you, for all I care. You have the blood of my friends--my family--on your hands."

  Intrigued now, he leaned back, pushing his papers aside. "Then why bother to save me at all?"

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  "Because I do have a great love for my son. He has been taken away, and I want him back. You can help me. I want your guarantee that he will stay with me. Is that worth your life?" He crossed his arms, regarding her, but Adrea didn't flinch.

  "Tell me what you know," Omra said. "Then I will decide."

  "No. Your word first."

  "And how much is my word worth, if it is given only to a slave?"

  "The word of the soldan-shah's son should be worth a great deal to whomever it is given."

  "Very well, then I give you my word." He smiled thinly. "But I will decide whether to keep my promise after you reveal what you know." He seemed to be toying with her, but not in a cruel way. He was amused by her boldness. Dismayed, but knowing this was the best promise she was likely to get, Adrea had to push forward. So she explained how Villiki intended to poison him that evening, how the drug was to be administered in a "love potion" his wife, Cliaparia, would put into the food. She watched Omra's expression darken, for her words had the ring of truth. "I know of Gliaparia's love potions, because they often make me ill. I also know how much Villiki wants her own son to take my place." Omra fell silent as thoughts rushed through his head, colliding, making him more and more angry. "Which priestess was she scheming with?" "Ur-Sikara Lukai." She answered without hesitation, without regret. Though the lead priestess had taken too much pleasure in tearing Saan away from her, Adrea did this not for revenge, but for her son. He nodded. "And is Cliaparia involved? Does she want me dead?"

  "I saw no evidence of that. What would she have to gain? I

  think the others mean for her to be blamed, if their poisoning plot succeeds."

  The zarif rose, his expression dark. "It's best you leave now. I must speak with my father."

  But Adrea made no move. She waited, silent and expectant. Preoccupied as he was, it took Omra a few moments to remember her request. He took a breath and nodded. "Yes. If this is true, then it is indeed worth the price of your son."

  65

  Uraba, Abilan Soldanate

  Improving the world, by the grace qfOndun.

  Prester Hannes had lived those words all his life: the Rule of Rules that God had given his sons, and that they in turn had given their followers. Such a task would never end, and all good Aidenists had to look for ways to follow the
rule, to please Ondun.

  But for all his contemplation on that command, Hannes had never before understood the breadth of the charge. He, hadn't felt the genuine meaning of that instruction--improving the world--until now. It had become his mission in life.

  After so many years in Olabar, preying upon the enemy in small ways, he slipped out of the capital city and made his way along the southern coast of the Middlesea, following a path that would eventually take him back to Tierra. But he was in no hurry. He had work to do on the way.

  The Urecari were willful heretics. Before the burning of Ishalem, Aidenist missionaries had traveled across the isthmus to Urecari settlements to spread the word. But these people

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  knowingly followed the wrong path, stubbornly refused to listen. Why, then, should Prester Hannes have any sympathy for them? Though the Book of Aiden was widely available, they ignored the truth, and so they had to face the consequences. The world could not be pure again while so many followers of arrogant Urec lived, and Ondun would not return until the blight was removed.

  It was so obvious.

  After walking for days on a stony road across an open grassy landscape, Hannes arrived at a small coastal village. The locals were tanned, the men shirtless, and they all moved about in an unhurried fashion, gathering mussels and oysters from beds along the breakwater. Fishing boats plied the calm shallow seas, their crews spearing sharks or netting sardines. In evenings, with a festive air they roasted their catch in great ember-filled beds, with smoky dry-seaweed fires right on the beach.

  At the small church in the center of the village, the old half blind sikara spotted Hannes as he entered town at dusk. She moved forward, favoring her left leg, and asked him to join them in the communal meal on the beach. He hesitated at first, but he was very hungry and finally came forward to accept a pile of black mussels from the ash bed. The shells yawned open, and as soon as they were cool enough to touch, he slurped out the rubbery meat.