The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  After Anjine climbed in and steadied herself on the stern bench, Mateo set the oars into the oarlocks and rowed them out into the harbor. A puddle of brown water sloshed in the bottom of the boat, and Anjine dutifully bailed so their feet would remain dry. In the main channel, Mateo struggled to dodge the

  iA

  busy harbor traffic. Large sailing ships and merchant galleys, lishing boats and smaller ferries plied the many fingers and bays I hat formed the city districts. From the shore, people waved and shouted at them; Mateo and Anjine waved back, unable to hear what they were saying.

  Mateo kept rowing while Anjine sat with regal poise, gazing upon the wonders of Calay. She insisted on taking her turn at the oars, but he wouldn't let her, though his arms ached and his hands felt raw and blistered.

  Mateo took her under six bridges, circled Shipbuilders' Bay, I hen toured the Merchants' District, where many large and exotic ships were tied up. The boat carried them to the harbor mouth, beyond which they could see the choppy expanse of the ()ceansea and the gray-blue waters that vanished behind the curve of the world.

  In the late afternoon, they returned to the dock below the casllc in the Royal District, where they were surprised to see people crowded on the pier, who were pointing excitedly as they spied I he two rowing toward them. Mateo's heart sank as he noticed I wo uniformed members of the city guard among them.

  "We might be in trouble, Tolli," Mateo said.

  She pulled off her yarn hat and shook her head to let her long hiiir fall free. "In that case, I'd better be Princess Anjine again."

  The owner of the boat had discovered it missing and raised

  11 hi' alarm, calling on the city guard to find the thieves. Caught,

  M.itco was mortally embarrassed; he had never meant to keep

  IIIk boat, and as far as he could tell, nobody had used it in some

  lime. He would have taken all the blame upon himself so that

  Anjiiie did not suffer because of his impulsive idea.

  Hill when she alighted from the boat, she stood proud and tli. light, regarding the people as if they were a reception party. She nodded toward the distraught boat owner. "I am Princess

  358

  Kevin J. Anderson

  Anjine. Thank you for allowing us the use of your boat. We will pay you handsomely for the service, or we'll simply buy the boat from you, if that's what you prefer? "

  All of the man's complaints and accusations evaporated, and he bowed low. "Princess Anjine! If you had merely asked, I would have rowed you myself."

  "Oh, I enjoyed the time with my friend. We're sorry for any misunderstanding." As a reward, Anjine had invited him to the next large banquet dinner hosted by King Korastine and Queen Sena. Mateo had been so proud of her

  Now the Raven tied up to the wharf nearest the barracks. Inns opened their doors and stretched out awnings above outside tables to ward off the rain. Mateo stood at the side of the ship so he could walk down the boarding ramp as soon as the lines were tied to the pilings.

  He found his heart lightened, and he was smiling. Speaking with Anjine and handing her his letters would brighten his mood even more. He needed that before he shipped out again--before he was once more weighed down by grim stories that he could not tell her--

  77

  Corag Highlands

  Because it was a wet spring, Criston Vora stayed inside his cozy stone-walled cottage and spent extra time sitting by the fire with the dog at his feet. With his sharpened knife in hand, he whittled models of ships he could see inside his mind, remembering vessels he had seen or imagining ships that had never been built.

  Captain Shay's hand-drawn sea-serpent book lay open on the table, in case he needed the reference.

  Intent on his work, he set aside all thought. He brushed the wood curls from the hearth into the fireplace, where they flashed and sputtered into bright coals. His focus left no room for anything but the tip of the knife, the small shavings of wood, and the shapes that appeared in his hands. Criston didn't need to think about anything else, and here he was far from his past.

  When the skies cleared again after a few days, Criston found that he had fifteen finished carvings, and very few supplies in his larder. Time to go to the nearby village by the mountain lake; by now, the people had come to expect his occasional visits. The children looked forward to their wooden toys, and started pestering their parents as soon as they saw him approach.

  Though the children showed such obvious joy in their new toys, he did not let himself take too much pleasure in their delight. If he allowed himself to feel happiness and satisfaction, I hen it was only one step away from feeling the overwhelming grief again. The same grief he had felt the day Ciarlo had told him Adrea was pregnant when the raiders came

  It was safer to keep those storms behind an emotional seawall.

  The lake had risen high with meltwater from the spring runoff. A few chunks of greenish white ice still floated in the middle (>f the water. Taking their new model boats, the children ran to I he stony shore and floated them in the chilly water, while Jerard barked and bounded along the edge, splashing in and then thinking better of it when he felt the deep cold.

  The village boys used long sticks to poke the boats farther out onto the lake. As the vagaries of the stirring currents caught the models, the boats spread apart like a miniature regatta. With an odd detachment, Criston studied how his models floated, com

  360 Kevin J.Anderson

  paring their designs. In his mind's eye, he thought of the vast Oceansea, the whaling ships from Soeland, the guano barges, the fishing boats from Windcatch, and, of course, the spectacular, doomed Luminara.

  The thin, cold breeze carried a chill from the lake, but no smell of salt, no iodine of seaweed, no pungent sourness offish--only the mountain mineral air. Criston had almost forgotten what it was like down at the sea.

  Racing ahead, one boy clambered up a rocky outcrop that extended over the lake. Holding on to the rock with one hand, he leaned out with his stick, trying to snag one of the boats before it drifted into deep water. With the mud and slush of the thaw, the stones in the outcrop were crumbly, and Criston looked up just in time to see a rock break loose. The boy's hand slipped. He scrambled for a hold, then fell into the water with a large splash. The other children stared; some laughed at the misadventure, some shouted an alarm. Though the boy gasped and nailed, the frigid lake water sapped his strength, nearly paralyzing him.

  Criston didn't even realize he was moving; he acted automatically. Without a word, he ran as far as he could along the rocky shore, then dove into the water. The iciness hit him like a slap, forcing the breath out of his lungs in an involuntary whoosh. His arms felt as if they had turned to stone, but he forced himself to stroke forward, warming his shocked muscles by using them.

  The boy had stopped struggling now, slowly turning over to float facedown in the water. Criston grabbed his shirt and pulled him back. The boy was pale, his lips already blue, and Criston's heart pounded like a distant kettledrum, laboring to keep warm blood moving. After a few more minutes in this frigid water, he too would be unable to move--he would sink, and he would die.

  On the stony beach, Jerard howled. The yelling children had

  brought a group of adults, and they stood waving their arms and shouting.

  Finally Griston's leaden feet touched rocks at the lake bottom, and he struggled forward until he reached dry land. He pulled the boy out first, and several sets of arms grasped him; then Cris ton collapsed. One of the village men grabbed the boy, rolled him over, forced water out of his mouth. The boy started coughing and retching on the lakeshore.

  Criston's teeth were chattering. "Bring blankets. Or...take the boy to a fire." He huddled into a miserable ball, wrapping his arms around his knees and shivering violently. The people rushed about, pulling the coughing boy away, carrying him off to the nearest village house. Someone threw a woolen blanket over Criston's shoulders as he sat hunched on the shore.


  Gradually, like the faintest of predawn light seeping into a black sky, Criston felt the warmth return. He still couldn't bend his fingers. His teeth continued to rattle together like dice shaken in a cup.

  The wide-eyed villagers showered him with thanks, and Criston could only nod. Water dripped from his hair, his beard. Plunging into the lake had shocked more memories out of where he had hidden them. His heart was pounding harder than it had in a long time, as if it had just recalled how to be alive.

  What he felt in his chest now was an entirely different type of cold from the shock of the near-freezing lake. He let out another gasp, drew a deep aching breath. For the first time in many years, he heard the call of the sea that pulled a man like the tides, and realized how much he missedk. And with that realization, he recalled just how much he missed Adrea.

  "J

  I

  THE EDGE OF THE WORLD

  363

  IO Calay, Saedran District

  It took Aldo the better part of a year to make his way back to Tierra. Along the way, he received assistance from other Saedrans--food, shelter, and enough coins to reach the next stop on his long journey. When he encountered Uraban soldiers searching for Aidenist infiltrators and church burners, he expected them to seize him, but his disguise remained sufficient.

  His people had helped him, and he had gotten home.

  Weary, wiser, and older, Aldo made his way to a greatly changed Galay, and looked around in wonder, as if seeing it all for the first time. A new Iborian-style kirk stood in a place of honor beside the castle. A fire had destroyed an entire neighborhood in the Merchants' District, and pale pine frameworks were still being erected to replace the lost houses and shops. A new bridge had been built to replace the collapsed Tinkers'

  Bridge.

  But Calay's Saedran District remained unchanged. As he walked the perfectly familiar streets on his way home at last, the sights and smells enfolded him in a welcoming embrace. He stared at his family home, the mossy roof, the flowerbeds in front of the door, the windows covered with curtains his mother and sister had made.

  He opened the door and stood on the threshold, just staring in at the familiar rooms and furniture, breathing in the smell of bread baking in the oven and soup simmering in a pot. In the sunlit main room, he startled his father, who stood before a canvas as always, finishing another portrait. "I'm home," he said,

  knowing he sounded foolish. "Sorry it took me so long." He had not thought of what to say next.

  Biento's face turned pale, as if he didn't even recognize his older son. In a soft voice, he called, "Yura! Come and see who's here."

  She bustled out of the kitchen with their daughter, Una, in tow, both of them dusted with flour. Aldo's little sister had grown a foot taller, gained weight, and blossomed into full womanhood. She squealed like a child when she saw him. Yura marched forward and grabbed him in a fierce embrace. "Where have you been?"

  "Everywhere, I suppose--but not by choice." Then came the explosion of tears, hugs, and excited chatter. Aldo told his story in great detail, then told it all over again to Sen Leo inside the Saedran temple. Down in the underground vault, the old scholar looked as if he might cry as he listened to all the exciting details.

  Finally, smiling with great reverence, Aldo revealed the new information he had compiled for the Mappa Mundi, including (he shape and fine detail of the Uraban continent. It was a torrent of fresh and unexpected knowledge.

  Later, his revelations caused quite a stir in the Saedran community. Sen Leo tested his observations, queried him, but caught Aldo in no contradictions. As best they could tell, his informalion was perfectly accurate. With Aldo's report, the Saedran perspective of the world drastically changed.

  During his absence, Aldo's younger brother, Wen, had also studied to become a chartsman, but he had neither the talent nor the patience to memorize libraries full of data. Because Wen had wanted to go out and find Aldo, his parents were secretly relieved to know he would be staying home.

  After his return, Aldo spent days with his father in the Sae

  -3

  ?rm

  dran temple chamber, directing him to paint the new features on the Uraban continent and revise other imperfections in the Mappa Mundi. And when the expansive revision was finished, Biento, Aldo, and Sen Leo stood together in delighted awe.

  But that was only the beginning of the work. Once Aldo deemed the main temple's map to be accurate, he and Biento traveled together to the smaller temples in Calay, then to other reaches where they shared their knowledge with the Saedran settlements there. Biento painted a revised Mappa Mundi in one temple after another, clearly proud of his son.

  In each settlement, Aldo sat before large crowds during temple services and told his tale again and again. As he did so, he remembered how Sen Sherufa's neighbors--as well as the soldan-shah himself--had loved to hear her spin marvelous stories.

  Aldo could have exaggerated his deeds to make them seem more exciting, but his real adventures were spectacular enough, and his sacred calling as a chartsman was to ensure accuracy. While he enjoyed being the center of attention, Aldo was much more interested in having new experiences than in talking about them.

  Because of his journey to Corag as a young man, his many trips as a chartsman, his capture by the Urecari raiders, his imprisonment in Olabar, and his subsequent overland escape that had taken him across both continents, some Saedrans were already calling him a new Traveler--sometimes jokingly, sometimes not.

  After all his experiences, he had definitely earned the honorific "Sen," though he was still young. Whenever people called him Sen Aldo, it took him a moment to realize they were talking to him.

  He wasn't ready to stop his life of exploration and travel. Aldo

  I

  was not yet thirty years old and still unmarried. Sen Leo naHadra had offered him any of his three daughters as a wife, and the young women were a logical choice, though all three of them giggled too much and read too little. But a chartsman didn't marry until he was ready to settle down, and Aldo still wanted to explore the world.

  Though glad to be back in Calay and well respected among his fellow Saedrans, he was restless and didn't know what to do with himself. He had not been born to stay at home.

  Plenty of blank spots remained on the Mappa Mundi. Someday, he thought, someday...

  79

  Olabar

  Since his abrupt retirement, Imir had stayed out of politics so there could be no question that Omra was now the soldan-shah, the leader, the point of all decisions. Out of view in his own section of the Olabar palace, the former soldan-shah raised peacocks in his private gardens, tended small ponds of colorful fish I hat amused him endlessly, and played games of xaries with the servants and occasionally with his son Omra.

  "I wish we could find an honorable way to bring Tukar back from Gremurr," Imir said, moving a game piece across the board. "He's my son, too, you know, and he was a good boy... but with a bad mother. We both know it wasn't his fault."

  "Tukar understands full well why you sent him into exile," Omra said, his voice hard. "He was lucky to keep his head on his shoulders. His life is not overly harsh. After you insisted on having a small palace built near the mines, we even sent him a wife.

  He's probably happy enough." He moved his own piece to block his father's advance.

  Imir said with a heavy sigh, "I've come to discover that wives do not always make a man happy." He thought of Lithio living far away in Missinia, of Asha murdered by the shadowman, of Villiki disgraced, banished, and probably dead by now.

  "You should go out and try to build a new life for yourself, Father. You were never cut out to be a hermit."

  "I suppose I wasn't." He scratched his rounded cheek, which he still kept smoothly shaved. "It's time to make friends again."

  Sen Sherufa na-Oa could not have been more surprised when the former soldan-shah appeared at her doorway with a bottle of Abilan wine, a vintage he had always enjoyed, though he nev
er paid attention to how much it might cost. "Imir! I haven't seen... You haven't said a word to me in so long."

  He held up the bottle, looking bashful. "It was easier to carry than a tea tray. Do you have something to eat? We can make dinner out of it. I've missed your stories. Do you think you could tell one tonight? Maybe by the second glass of wine?"

  He stepped inside, and Sherufa blushed, fighting back a smile. "I always have stories. The difficulty is finding one I haven't told you already." Back in happier times she had come to him every week. She opened the bottle and poured each of them a glass. "The best stories entertain as well as instruct."

  "I don't want to be lectured," Imir scoffed.

  "Have I ever lectured you?"

  "No, no. You're always entertaining. Please, carry on."

  Sherufa gathered some cheese, olives, and bread, and they shared a simple meal. Before she could commence her tale, a quiet knock on the door interrupted them, and one of Sherufa's neighbors delivered five fresh candles. While she had the door

  open, several children ran across the cobblestone street to ask if she had any sweets--which she always did.

  Imir smiled. "All the people in the district love you--then again, how could they not?"

  She sat back down, toying with her glass of wine. He finished his much more quickly than she did. "Now, then, why don't I tell you where the Saedrans came from? It's an old story, but an important one."

  "Ah, yes. Something about a sinking island and a curse? On dun's stepchildren?",

  "I'll tell the story, if you don't mind. Many generations ago, long after Aiden and Urec had departed in their ships, the original Saedrans left Terravitae on an expedition of their own, with the blessing of Holy Joron. They founded a new homeland on a fertile island continent, and from there, they built and sailed many ships to continue exploring the world. Eventually our people encountered Tierra and Uraba and reestablished contact with the descendants of Aiden and Urec. Civilization flourished.