A Secret Atlas (52 page)

young and had shown no talent for cartography, she had been crushed. So during the

times when Qiro gave Jorim and Keles little tasks to perform, he would sit and draw maps

for her. They created the mythical land of Kunjiqui, and as she would describe it, Qiro

would add symbols to the map, refining and defining the world of her creation.

Qiro had extended a hand to her and she had slipped from the bed. He led her to the wall

and touched it. A section slid back silently, revealing a black corridor. “For you, Nirati, I

have found a path to Kunjiqui. Come. It shall be your sanctuary from fear.”

She’d followed him down the corridor and into a sunlit meadow, which couldn’t possibly

exist, since all the grass was silk and the birds singing in the trees were creatures of

embroidery. The trees had limbs heavy with fruit, all mixed varieties, each huge and

succulent. She smiled, seeing a pear with the rind of a lime, and knew that inside would

be sweet flesh tasting of both.

Qiro released her hand and let her drift into the land they had created. “You are older now,

so there are other things you may desire. The streams that now run with sweet tea may

flow with wine. The stars will dance for your pleasure if you so desire. The fruit will be

what you crave. The wind will always be gentle and warm. What rain falls will refresh. It

will always be thus in Kunjiqui.”

His voice faded and she turned around to see him, but he had vanished like a ghost. That

surprised her, but did not make her fear, for she did feel safe here in this land of her

imagining. She sat down on the silk grasses and laid her head down, listening to the soft

lullabies sung by the birds.

And she slept.

Fully awake now, Nirati summoned the strength to throw off her bedclothes and walked to

the wall. She touched the cool stones, then pushed, hoping they would yield, but of course

they did not. Not only was that an external wall, but it was three stories above the

ground.
I dreamed the whole thing. I dreamed his coming. I dreamed Kunjiqui.

Then she looked at her wrists again. The red marks remained, as did the bruises. Why

and how they were there, she could not explain. She began to shiver. She turned and,

pressing her back to the wall, slid to the floor.

Something was very wrong, but she could not identify it. She knew then that the only

peace she would have would be that of an imaginary land created by a young girl.

“I hope,” she breathed, “that it will be enough.”

27th day, Month of the Tiger, Year of the Rat

9th Year of Imperial Prince Cyron’s Court

163rd Year of the Komyr Dynasty

737th year since the Cataclysm

Stormwolf,
off the Forbidding Coast

The coastal survey of the Mountains of Ice had continued for two days when a storm

boiled up from the west and blasted the fleet. The skies had darkened so quickly that even

Jorim began to suspect that the gods hated them. Most sailors assumed they were close

to the gate to the Underworld and that the storm was an effort to keep them away. That

sort of idle speculation, however, only came in grumbles over cold meals. The shrieking

winds and driving rains made thoughts of anything but survival a luxury.

For Jorim, the four days in which the ships were buffeted and blown eastward were times

of sheer terror, relieved only by frustration. Having few skills that were of use in this

situation, he was ordered to his cabin. Even his requests for data like speed and direction

were rebuffed. He learned later that the device used to measure speed had been tossed

into the sea once by a hapless young sailor. The knotted rope tied to it had been yanked

so quickly from his hands that he had lost a finger.

The storm’s howl, the rattle of rain against the hull, and the creaking of every joint on the

ship reminded him just how fragile the vessel was. Though the
Stormwolf
was the largest ship any man had ever built, the raging sea was enough to crush it like a paper lantern

beneath a wagon wheel. The only thing which prevented that was the skill of the crew and

the strength of those on the tiller. They kept the ship moving with the wind and through the

towering waves.

Shimik had not taken well to the storm, and hid himself in a swaddling of blanket in the

corner of Jorim’s cabin. The little creature mewed when thunder cracked close by and

moaned in counterpoint to the ship’s groaning. Jorim wished he could have joined the

Fenn in huddling safely away, but his pride and fury at the weather prevented him from

doing so.

His mission, reinforced by Captain Gryst’s order, was to perform readings that would

determine their position. He had the Gryst chronometer, which was keeping nearly perfect

time—at least, by one clock measured against the other. He couldn’t determine noon, nor

midnight, nor take readings from the stars, since the storm kept him in his cabin and the

clouds hid the sun as well as the stars.

As annoying as the inability to take readings was, the storm prevented him from

confirming a discovery he’d made during the survey. Just as the northern pole star was a

useful point for navigation in the northern hemisphere, so his grandfather had charged him

with selecting its equivalent to the south. He had decided that the Eye of the Cock would

suit, and had intended to relay that information to Qiro as soon as he had confirmed it.

While the Eye could not be seen from Moriande, the tail of the constellation could, and

was known from old Viruk and Soth texts. Once south of the equator it would serve nicely,

and was a discovery that would mitigate his error in measurements.

In some ways, being the keeper of the clocks became his only purpose on the ship.

Captain Gryst would send sailors to ask him what time it was. And, as the storm wore on,

those intervals degraded—as did the manners of everyone on board. Sailors had said a

storm that intense could not last more than a day or two but, as it stretched into the third

and fourth day, some came to think his timekeeping was mistaken.

After four days, the storm broke and the ocean became as placid as they had ever seen it.

Jorim peeked out of his cabin and took readings. He did the math as quickly as possible,

then double-checked it. His whistle of surprise had awakened Shimik, who sat up, rubbed

his eyes, and awaited an explanation.

“We go longa longa.” Jorim sat back and studied the line he’d drawn on his map. The

storm had blown them east over a thousand miles, and a bit north. It had carried them

right into the unknown quarter.

It took two days for the fleet to reunite. Two ships had gone down, and the fleet’s survivors

were uncertain if they hoped the ships had smashed into the Mountains of Ice or had just

been dragged to the bottom of the ocean. The latter would have been a quicker way to

die. Promises were made that they would look for survivors on their return trip, but

everyone knew those promises were hollow. Currents had carried them further northeast,

away from the Mountains of Ice, and getting back down there would be all but impossible.

For another two days the currents and light breezes continued, taking them to the

northeast over featureless stretches of ocean. Jorim was about to despair of finding any

land when a lookout spotted a line of clouds on the eastern horizon. By the time the sun

was setting they saw a dark line beneath them which meant mountains, and the rumor

rushed through the fleet that they had found Aefret. Fair winds and calm seas contributed

to the buoyant attitude, and Captain Gryst allowed some celebration before she told the

crew, “It’s time you did some sailing instead of just waiting for a storm to push us along.”

By dawn, the mountains had grown considerably—and everyone knew those mountains

had to be very tall indeed. Jorim remembered Anaeda saying a wall of stone was as

unlikely as open ocean in the unknown quarter, but for a day’s sailing it looked as if a wall

was exactly what they were heading for. The mountains just kept growing, and none of the

coastline looked the least bit inviting.

The fleet turned north and sailed up the coast. After several days, they had their first bit of luck. A gap in the mountains showed the outflow of a river, leading into a natural harbor.

More important than the idea of safe anchorage and the prospect of freshwater,

the
Moondragon
lay on the beach. It had been believed lost in the storm, and the sailors had felt that tragedy had just been part of the ship’s evident curse. It clearly had been

brought up the beach for repairs. Its survival made many reconsider the curse.

But only as long as it took folks to realize that no people were actually on the ship. As the

rest of the fleet came in, Jorim joined Captain Gryst on the wheel deck. He couldn’t see

any signs of habitation—no fires or tents. Like everyone else, he assumed the worst—that

the sea devils had taken the crew and were even now feasting on them.

“You’ll be thinking the sea devils mild compared to what I’ll do to the lot of you,” Captain

Gryst barked. “Keep your eyes open for them and we won’t have another problem.

Lieutenant Linor, get together two squads of soldiers to reconnoiter the beach and secure

it.”

“Permission to join them, Captain.”

She turned and spitted Jorim with a sharp gaze. “Are you hoping to be eaten by sea

devils, Master Anturasi, or to kill sea devils?”

“Neither. If there are sea devils about, we’ll find sign of them quickly. We know they use

ships, so I’d imagine that if it were they, they’d be fixing the
Moondragon
. The reason I want to go is to take a look around. Exploring is exactly why you have me along.”

“I would prefer our soldiers to secure the beach first.”

“I don’t mean to argue with you, but I ask you to consider one thing before you make a

final decision. Of everyone on this ship, I have the best chance of determining what is

going on. I’ve been outside the Principalities in places that didn’t even have names.”

Her lips flattened into a line, then she nodded. “If you leave my sight, if you leave the

beach, don’t come back. I’ll be leaving you here.”

“As ordered, Captain.” Jorim bowed to her, then retreated to his cabin. He strapped on his

sword, then joined the soldiers as they descended into two of the ship’s boats. Captain

Gryst watched from the wheel deck and Shimik peeked out from between her feet and the

railings.

“Lieutenant Linor?”

The woman leading the soldiers looked up. “Yes, Captain?”

“Listen to Master Anturasi, but no one leaves the beach until I give the order.”

“Understood.”

Jorim took his customary place in the bow of the boat as the sailors rowed toward the

shore. He studied the vegetation, which was lush, green, thick, and tall. The mountains,

which jutted up into the clouds, surrendered less than a mile of land to the ocean, and

trees had aggressively colonized that small crescent. He might have expected the ocean

water to have killed everything off, but clearly storms dumped an incredible amount of

water on the cliffs. That freshwater would have been enough to hydrate them.

And the river as well.
The sailors cursed as they had to pull against its current. Jorim suspected the bay’s water was more fresh than salt, and wondered what sort of fish he’d

find in it. Would they be riverine, marine, or some curious mix?

The boat rode a breaker into the beach and Jorim was out before oars had been shipped.

He sank to a knee and let a handful of sand drift through his fingers. It felt normal, and the

pieces of shell and strands of seaweed were recognizable. Even the calls of the birds he

heard were vaguely familiar.

He got up and joined Lieutenant Linor as she walked the perimeter of the shore near the

ship. “No tracks of the sea devils.”

She shook her head. “Nothing to show a fight.” As they walked along the beach she

pointed to a path leading into the interior. “They off-loaded as much as they could and

carried it inland. Maybe they found a cave or a hilltop where they could raise a structure to

shield them.”

They paused at the river’s edge. Silvery fish swam in the current and birds waded in to

knife sharp beaks at them. Jorim crouched and scooped up a handful of the water. He

sniffed it, then poured it out. He rubbed a bit against his lips, but felt no tingle there or on his hand. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with the water. Save for the blue plumage,

that bird could be an Emperor stork. If it’s drinking and eating, this place is probably safe.”

He stood and looked back at the beached ship. “They made it into this harbor four or five

days ago. They off-loaded the ship, dragged it in, began to make repairs. Let’s say that

took two days. Then something happened. Something that stopped them working and

prevented the lot of them from returning. What could that be?”

Lieutenant Linor looked past him and her face drained of blood. Jorim spun and had the

answer to his question.

A copper-skinned man stood at the entrance to the path. He was impossibly tall, and

muscled as thickly as anyone Jorim had ever seen. He wore upper body armor woven

from thick fibers, and a loincloth of finer weaving. Both had been decorated with geometric

designs rendered in bright yellows, greens, and blues. Beaten copper greaves and