The Edge of the World

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Avoiding the guards, Adreala ran to her mother and sister. Istar folded her into an embrace.

  Rovik remained troubled. "I was present when Soldan-Shah Omra gave these chambers to Lady Istar. You are asking me to perform a deed that I know is against the soldan-shah's express wishes." "The soldan-shah is not here. You cannot know his current wishes."

  Kel Rovik was not moved. "And when I receive word from the soldan-shah himself that he has changed his mind, my men and I will be pleased to follow his command. Until then, his orders remain unchanged, and the Lady Istar remains where she is. As the soldan-shah wishes, so Urec wishes." Cliaparia recognized that she had been defeated. Without bothering to call the four guards after her, she slipped past Kel Rovik's men like a raven frightened from a fresh carcass. But Istar could tell that this was not over.

  WC

  ¦Ill

  110

  Calay, Shipbuilders' Bay

  King Korastine's Arkship was an enormous vessel unlike any other Tierra had ever built. When the Iborian shipwright declared that his work was complete, all the riggings strung, the sails mounted, the deck boards and hull waterproofed, the bulwarks carved and painted, and the double-fishhook anchor hung, the Arkship was finally released into Shipbuilders' Bay.

  Though King Korastine and Destrar Broeck had both insisted on having a place aboard the Arkship for the voyage, neither man would serve as the actual captain. After much discussion in chambers and reviewing the records of other skilled seagoing captains, Korastine had made his choice. Kjelnar himself would be the captain. No one knew more about the Arkship than he did, and King Korastine trusted no one more.

  On the day of the christening, most of Galay's population lined the bridges and streets in excited celebration. The nearby docks were reserved for all of the young craftsmen who had worked on the great vessel and now gathered to watch. These young men had been drawn from all walks of life and had worked tirelessly to build, rig, paint, and supply the Arkship for its maiden voyage.

  Aldo na-Curic stood among his fellow Saedrans to marvel at the glorious ship, especially since he would be joining the crew, once King Korastine set sail for parts unknown. For most of the people in Calay, the ship had a deep religious significance, an echo of the marvelous wrecked vessel that had watched over

  Ishalem. And if Aiden--or Urec--could sail such a giant vessel across the empty seas from Terravitae, then surely a similar design would suffice for King Korastine's exploratory crew.

  For Aldo, though, the new Arkship signified the chance to discover the mysteries Ondun had left in the world, the breathtaking possibilities that waited in the unmarked portion of the Mappa Mundi, and the chance, at last, to complete the great work of the Saedran people. And he would be the one to record it all, as the master chartsman.

  More than at any previous time since the burning of Ishalem, the people of Tierra had come together on the same quest. Over the past year, the work crews in Shipbuilders' Bay had swelled with enthusiastic young men, many of them orphans; without parents and growing up on the streets of Calay, these young men wanted to do something grand and tangible with their unsettled lives, perhaps even sail off on the Arkship when it was completed.

  Eager to get a better look at the beautiful ship, a vessel that would be his home for uncounted months or years, Aldo worked his way to the edge of the dock, where he could study her graceful lines. His brother and father tagged along, though Wen clearly wanted to be somewhere else. Aldo wondered whether looking at the new Arkship reminded Wen that he had not passed his chartsman examination.

  The crowd cheered with a renewed roar as King Korastine ascended the gangway accompanied by Prester-Marshall Rudio. The two men walked to the prow, and the king raised his hands. Aldo strained to hear the distant words as the religious leader opened a heavy old volume of the Book of Aiden and began to recite. When Rudio finished his passage, he closed the book and shouted to the sky, "We beseech Ondun to bestow His blessing on this new ship."

  ty

  504 Kevin J. Anderson

  In a well-rehearsed performance, Korastine called, "Help us to sail safe and true, for I am of the blood of Aiden."

  The prester-marshall raised the king's hand and drew a gilded blade. "By the blood of Aiden"--he cut a small slash on the king's palm--"we ask Ondun to consecrate this ship." As blood welled up, he pressed Korastine's palm against the wood of the bow.

  Korastine raised his voice to add, "And by the blood of Aiden, I beseech Ondun to help us find our way home to Terravitae."

  The crowd stirred at the end of the dock as several men came forward. Aldo stood on his tiptoes to catch a glimpse of the broad-shouldered Iborians marching forward in what was obviously an unexpected addition to the christening ceremony.

  Kjelnar and Destrar Broeck led a group of northerners, who strode onto the deck of the grand vessel, carrying a long fur wrapped package. "Wait, King Korastine. We have a priceless contribution to the Arkship!" Broeck bellowed.

  The king looked curiously at the package. "And what is this, Destrar?"

  "Safety, Majesty." The bearded destrar removed the covering with a flourish to reveal a long, sharp shaft made of a milky blue substance. "This is the horn of the ice dragon Raathgir. Blessed by Aiden himself, proof against sea monsters, protection from storms. Immediately before we depart, Kjelnar will install Raathgir's horn on the Arkship's prow--a rare and fearsome ornament that will also impress Holy Joron when you see him."

  The shipwright smiled. "As the captain of the ship, I agree."

  Prester-Marshall Rudio touched the smooth pearlescent ivory surface. "First let me bring this back to the main kirk, where our master craftsmen can etch the five prayers of Aiden into its shaft."

  King Korastine smiled. "Then the Arkship will surely be invincible."

  Broeck was immensely pleased by the idea. "That gives Kjelnar time to craft a socket in the prow for the ice dragon's horn."

  From the crowd, Aldo listened, curious. He had heard only obscure mentions of the ice dragon legend; now he would have to look into the Saedran libraries to discover more about the tale. As the chartsman accompanying the Arkship on its voyage, he had to know everything possible, to organize and file it in his perfect memory. Aldo would have to make the most of this journey. When he came back home, Sen Leo would probably insist that Aldo marry one of his daughters and settle down.

  Beside him, his father was enthralled by the ceremony, though Wen fidgeted. Aldo could tell that Biento longed to paint a mural of this scene, though Aidenist practice forbade the creation of any artwork that did not come from the great story. Quirking his lips in a smile, Aldo leaned close to his father. "Maybe you could paint the christening of Aiden's original Arkship before its launch from Terravitae? It would look very much like this scene."

  "Ah, yes," Biento nodded. "And since Korastine is of the blood of Aiden, his features must be very similar to Aiden's, wouldn't you say? The painting would look almost exactly like this."

  Aldo could already see the wheels turning in his father's mind.

  Ill

  Nunghal Lands

  Saan and his companions lived for two months as guests in the great camp of the Nunghal khan before Jikaris announced it was time to begin the procession down to the sea and the clan gathering festival.

  While learning to speak the Nunghal language passably well, the young man also participated in the sport of buffalo wrestling, a dangerous game that depended on agility and speed rather than brute strength. Saan was wiry and light on his feet, and he loved to confuse the buffalo bulls by flailing a bright red kerchief before them, his arm extended to one side so the animal attacked the wrong target. He astonished the other Nunghal boys by springing onto the beast's back and riding it briefly before dropping off and running back to safety.

  He taught himself to play their games of chance, discovering a strategy that depended more on trickery and bluffing than on actual luck or skill. He even flirted with some of the girls his age, though Nu
nghal standards of beauty tended more toward muscular and squarish women than the willowy lovelies of the Olabar court.

  During these months, Imir--with Asaddan as his interpreter--spoke to Ruad and Khan Jikaris, describing Uraba's long-standing war against the Aidenists. Ruad in particular collected these nuggets of information as if they were coins with which he could buy his way back among the Nunghal-Su. When Imir wasn't discussing a possible alliance with the Nunghals, he spent his time with Sen Sherufa.

  For days before departure, the Nunghals packed their belongings and prepared their mounts, drawing lots to determine who would stay behind and who would drive the buffalo herds down to the sea. Saan asked his new friends what was happening, and they explained the clan-gathering festival, an annual event among the tribes, at which they would trade goods and arrange marriages between the Nunghal-Ari and the Nunghal-Su. In addition, the separate branches would exchange young men so that nomads would learn to sail ships, while seafarers discovered the ways of the land, hunting and herding.

  Khanjikaris would join the procession, as he always had, so he could meet with his counterpart among the Nunghal-Su, a much younger khan who had taken the place of his dying father two years prior.

  Sen Sherufa spoke to the khan at yet another banquet complete with fireworks. In slow, careful Nunghal, she said, "My companions and I crossed the Great Desert to see your land after hearing Asaddan's stories. I ask now for permission to accompany your party to the south, so that we might gaze upon this vast new sea you have spoken of."

  The khan slapped his hand on the table surface, jarring the goblets and rattling plates, delighted by Sherufa's boldness. "You must come! I will show the khan of the Nunghal-Su these people who fly like birds in a basket, who tell of strange lands, and whose hair is made of gold." He reached out to scrub Saan's blond hair vigorously, a gesture to which the young man had grown accustomed (though he did not particularly enjoy it). Saan always found the khan's words difficult to understand, not because his grasp of the language was weak, but because the man had a pronounced lisp.

  Imir was annoyed to be left out of the joke. He asked repeatedly, "What? What's happened?" until Asaddan took pity and explained it to him.

  The khan's procession was a great, slow-moving parade. The buffalo drovers left early and maintained a fast pace, but Jikaris was in no hurry. Since the clan-gathering festival lasted for months, traders rarely offered their most valuable and exquisite merchandise early on, preferring to wait for larger crowds so that prices could go higher.

  Days after the herds were out of sight, the khan would stop at mid-afternoon to set up camp and prepare for a large meal; the next morning, it took them hours to break camp and move out again. Scouts rode ahead to report on the terrain, the weather, and any other clans they sighted.

  Saan was walking beside Sen Sherufa when they finally crested a rise of grassy hills and saw a hazy blue expanse that spread infinitely far to the south. The Saedran woman stopped in the middle of recounting one of her favorite tales of the Traveler. The refreshing smell of salt air and the unexpected sea breeze stole the words from her throat.

  "It's the southern sea!" Saan blurted.

  Asaddan joined them, and Sherufa said in amazement, "You didn't lie, Asaddan, nor even exaggerate. This ocean..." She shook her head. "This entire continent exceeds all the boundaries of my imagination."

  The big Nunghal looked at the expanse of water as if it were a strange landscape even to him. "You know the Middlesea's boundaries, but here storms come up from the south and batter the coastline. The Nunghal-Su have sturdy ships. Ruad is very proud of them, though his own vessel was wrecked by a storm. I would rather place my faith on dry, solid land."

  Puffing, Imir joined them to stare at the sight before them. Since their time in the sand coracle, the former soldan-shah had stopped shaving his scalp and face, and now his whole head was

  I

  gggg;

  fringed in a fuzz of tightly curled iron-gray hair. Looking out at the water, his expression dawned with wonder. "No Uraban has ever before gazed upon this sea!" "Well, Sen Sherufa and I saw it first," Saan teased.

  Riding behind them, Khan Jikaris topped the hill, drew a deep breath, and let it out as a sigh. His companion Ruad seemed transfixed as he stared at the ocean with immense longing. Saan remembered the same expression on Asaddan's face after he stepped from the sand coracle onto the grasslands of his clan. The khan, though, was far more interested in the hundreds of colorful tents and stalls that filled the meadows and pastures above the beach. The Nunghal-Ari procession trampled the grasses in the pristine meadow that the early riders had reserved so that the khan and his party could establish their camp there.

  The following day, full of excitement to see the stalls, vendors, and representatives of the Nunghal-Su, Saan accompanied

  I Sen Sherufa out to explore. He looked down into the harbor at if a hundred strange, thick-hulled ships with stout masts and an unfamiliar arrangement of sails and rigging. He hoped one of the seafaring Nunghals would take him aboard so he could study the design and learn their nautical skills, which he could bring back to Soldan-Shah Omra.

  The khan gave Saan's grandfather a sack of coins to spend, and Imir told the young man in a conspiratorial whisper that he intended to buy "something very special" for Sherufa. Jikaris also gave coins to Saan and to the Saedran woman for their own needs. As the morning warmed, Saan and Sherufa walked among the gathered Nunghals. Clan leaders sat across from each other at low tables as they shared drinks and conversation. He could

  easily spot the seafaring Nunghal-Su by their distinctive dress, similar to the clothes Ruad wore. Their harsh dialect was difficult to understand, but the two strangers made themselves

  understood.

  Fishermen sold smoked carcasses of a large spiny fish that Saan had never seen before. Nunghal-Su stalls offered shells and coral necklaces while the nomadic clans sold polished chunks of rose quartz finely ground crystal lenses for spyglasses, tanned hides and worked leather goods, and barrels of salted and cured

  buffalo meat.

  Sen Sherufa stopped at a rriapmaker's stall, intrigued by the charts displayed there. She perused the details of the southern coastline with arrows marking strong currents; the blank areas of water were decorated with fanciful depictions of sea serpents

  and storm patterns.

  "How accurate is this map?" she asked the mapmaker. He bristled as if she had insulted him. "Nunghal-Su navigate with these charts. Our clans have explored every inch of the coastline as far as we can. Our lives depend upon maps." He had a long mustache that drooped past his chin and a stubble of beard that had been shaved no less than a week before. "Where are you from? Your appearance is strange."

  The mapmaker scoffed when they told him about Uraba and the soldanates, how they had crossed the Great Desert and became guests of Khanjikaris. Facing his disbelief, Sen Sherufa remarked "You asked us to believe in you. Now believe in us."

  With a lifetime on the sea, the mapmaker had only vaguely heard of the Great Desert. He showed Sherufa his charts, asking her to point out its location. Since the Nunghal-Su were concerned only with the coastline and the sea, he had little information about the land's interior, where the nomadic clans herded buffalo. The Saedran woman used her finger to sketch out the

  general border of the Great Desert, then farther north she traced the soldanates of Uraba and finally the Middlesea. Saan, however, was intent on the contours of the southern coastline, which he had never before seen. He compared this with what he remembered of Uraban geography from Omra's tactical maps, extended the Nunghal shoreline in his imagination ... and made an intuitive leap. He spoke in Uraban, so the mapmaker would not understand him. "Sen Sherufa, see here. As the coastline extends to the west, it curves northward to the limit of Nunghal-Su explorations. By my guess... isn't our southernmost city of Lahjar not far from here?" Sherufa was automatically skeptical. "No one can sail south beyond Lahjar. The heat and the ree
fs block all passage." Saan gave her a wry smile. "Yes, and no one could cross the Great Desert, for that was the edge of the world. Apparently, our information is flawed."

  Sherufa asked the mapmaker in his own language, "Why have your ships not traveled farther north, here?",¦¦¦;

  The Nunghal shook his head. "Reefs. Shoals. Bad currents."

  Saan excitedly extended the coastline with his finger. "If the southern sea is indeed the lower half of the continent of Uraba, wouldn't the coast connect all the way around here? To Lahjar?" Sherufa muttered as her thoughts tried to catch up to her words. "And if this is a true representation of the coast of the southern sea, then we know the shape of the whole continent! Think of what that means." . Saan felt his excitement build, thinking as Omra had taught him. "If my grandfather can form an alliance with the Nunghals, then their navies could sail up this coast, round the cape, and travel north to Lahjar. They could join us in our battles with kthe Aidenists!"

  wu

  "That wasn't exactly what I meant." Sherufa's expression showed how deeply preoccupied she was. "It is a Saedran thing." She paid the Nunghal merchant his asking price for the chart, too engrossed in the discovery to haggle.

  112

  Corag Reach

  Frozen. Starving. Lost.

  Hannes's mind was as numb as his feet, as his hands. His body continued to move without conscious volition, plodding through this forsaken wilderness. The mountains around him were like monstrous jaws ready to grind him into pulp. He did not know how long it had been since his escape from the Gremurr mines.

  The endless nights had been black, freezing, and windy; the mockingly clear days were so cold that the air itself felt as if it might shatter. The watery yellow sun shone down without warmth. Even both blankets wrapped around him--now sodden, frozen, and tattered--barely kept him warm.

  His toes had burned for a long time, but now they were frozen. Wrapped in spare rags, his fingers were as stiff as wood; he could bend them only when he concentrated, and with a great deal of agony. The cold reawakened his old scars, first a tingling, then a throbbing, then excruciating pain.