30 Olabar Palace

The new clothes had cost him a fortune, not to mention the requisite jeweled rings, the tourmaline clasp for his cloak, and the strand of milk pearls that hung from his neck like a badge of office. In Tierra, only women wore pearls, but Urabans considered them a sign of importance and wealth for men as well. His dark hair was cut in the latest fashion, and his brown eyes and tan skin allowed him to pass as either Tierran or Uraban, which had served him well.

Every detail was part of Yal Dolicar's disguise.

For days, he had liberally spent money around Olabar in order to build up his mystique. Dolicar had to ensure that his fame preceded him when he appeared before the soldan-shah. Over the years he had developed many innovative ways to part people from their riches, but this was his most ambitious scheme yet.

He had to deliver every part of his story with the weight of absolute veracity. Soldan-Shah Omra was not a man who would be easily duped.

Dolicar had handed his petition to the court chamberlain, along with a hefty bribe, explaining that he had an item of tremendous historical interest (and value) that the soldan-shah simply must see.

It was midmorning by the time the crier summoned him into the audience chamber. Yal Dolicar gathered his robes, manufactured a demeanor of both supreme importance and humility, and walked into the immaculately appointed room. Advisers and ministers stood around the perimeter, regarding him incuriously; he was the ninth supplicant so far this morning.

Omra sat on a dais from which he dispensed orders and justice. On his left sat his First Wife Istar, the unmistakably Tierran woman who caused so much consternation among the sikaras, and on his right sat a handsome young man with blond hair and blue eyes, also obviously Tierran. His adopted son Saan. Yes, Dolicar had done his research.

Sinking to his knees on the floor of polished driftwood tiles, he spread his arms forward in full obeisance. “My Lord Soldan-Shah, I have brought you an artifact of great magnificence.”

“So my chamberlain says.” Omra leaned forward on the dais as Dolicar extracted a long leather case dyed blood-red and carved with intricate designs. Dolicar had spent as much to create the extravagant container as on the supposed relic inside, but the investment would pay off. He untied a string, removed the cap, and pulled out a weathered-looking parchment with ragged edges. Part of the paper was stained, and the bottom left corner had been burned off. It appeared to be very old, very ornate, and very important.

Still on his knees, Dolicar unrolled the parchment on the polished wood. The map showed strange islands and open seas, embellished with waves and fanciful creatures, tentacled monsters and fanged serpents. The labels were written in archaic and indecipherable script. (Yal Dolicar had no idea what the words were supposed to say, since he had just made them up.)

“My Lord, this was found in a hidden cave in the cliffs above Lahjar.” His breathy voice dripped with awe. “The original Map of Urec—lost so many centuries ago! As soon as I discovered the relic, I rushed here to deliver it to you alone. I suffered great tribulations crossing Uraba, and arrived here all but penniless… save for this great treasure of history, and of our faith.”

At Omra's gesture, Kel Rovic took the map from Dolicar's hand and carried it to the dais. As the soldan-shah stared at the parchment, his expression darkened, which Dolicar found extremely odd. “And you found this map yourself ? In a cave yousay?”

“Yes, in the ruins of an ancient city. Some of the structures had been looted by bandits, but this was untouched. It is a true relic.”

“Someone with great talent created it.” Omra looked up. “Most unfortunate that it is a forgery.”

Gasps rang around the court, and Dolicar goggled. “Soldan-Shah, certainly you—”

“Certainly I know that this is a fake and that you are trying to cheat me.” He summoned Kel Rovic. “He is to be executed.”

As guards came forward to seize him, Dolicar sprang to his feet. “My Lord, why do you say such things? This map is no forgery!” The guard captain slid his curved scimitar half out of its sheath, and Dolicar squawked, “If there has been a falsification, then I swear I've been cheated as well. When I bought the map from a merchant in Lahjar, he assured me that—”

Omra's expression remained cold. “Bought it? You told me you found it yourself.”

“I did—I mean, the men took me to the place where it was found. I had every reason to believe it was real. Look at the drawings, the letters. You must admit there's a chance—”

“There is no chance, none at all. This map is a forgery.” The soldan-shah sat back, revealing his own secret. “I already have the real Map.”

Dolicar knew he was doomed.

As an enthusiastic Imir marched her to the throne room, Sen Sherufa bustled alongside, curious. He had practically dragged her from her home that morning, insisting that Omra wanted to see her. “He has an incredible announcement to make. I want you to hear it.”

Other supplicants were waiting for their names to be called, but Imir whisked her past them without a second glance. As he pushed his way into the presence of the soldan-shah, tugging on her arm, she dug in her heels on the slippery floor. “We should wait, Imir. It isn't our turn.”

“I was the soldan-shah, my dear. I never learned how to wait.”

The throne room was in the midst of a commotion, the guards struggling with a man who wailed and thrashed, pleading for his life. Sherufa was astonished to recognize him, though his clothing was different and years had passed. The prisoner spotted her too and cried out, pointing wildly. “That woman—the Saedran woman! She can vouch for me! Sen Sherufa na-Oa knows that I am true to my word.”

Irritated, Omra snapped to Kel Rovic, “Cut out the man's tongue if he will not be quiet.”

The prisoner clamped his mouth shut, but continued to point urgently toward Sherufa.

Imir, scandalized at the man's audacity, put a protective arm around Sherufa, but she stood straight and said calmly, “Yes, Soldan-Shah—long ago, I asked this man to deliver a message to a… far-off friend.” She didn't want to reveal that she had paid him to deliver secrets to her fellow chartsman, Aldo na-Curic, inCalay.

“And I did exactly as I was told! I went straight to the Saedran District. The house belonged to a man named Biento na-Curic, and he was the most famed painter in all of—”

Sherufa cut him off in alarm. “I have already said I know who you are. But I know nothing about the trouble you've caused now.”

“There, that settles it.” Though puzzled by her behavior, Imir pushed her toward Omra on his dais, wrapped up in his own excitement. “Tell Sen Sherufa your announcement, my son.”

From the right of the dais, Saan smiled at Sherufa; he too seemed ready to burst with news he was anxious to share. She, Saan, and Imir had formed a strong friendship during their arduous journey over the Great Desert and through the lands of the Nunghals.

Omra raised his voice so his words would carry throughout the room. “We were getting to that, Father. I was about to explain myself to this man.” He scowled at Dolicar, who swallowed hard. “Your map is a forgery because I have Urec's original Map. It was discovered in a vault beneath the Aidenist kirk in Ishalem.” He clapped his hands, and within moments the actual relic was brought into the throne room, and Omra revealed it at last for the amazed spectators.

“This map—the true Map—shows the way to Terravitae, as well as the location of the fabled Key to Creation, which even Urec could not find. I have chosen my son Saan to undertake a new expedition.” He reached over to place his hand on the young man's shoulder. “If he can find the Key, then we will become invincible in our struggle against the Aidenists.”

Now the muttering became excited, intrigued. Imir blurted out to Sherufa as he squeezed her in a hug. “And you, my dear, will go with them as their chartsman and see mysterious lands with your own eyes! The greatest voyage in the history of Uraba. You'll thank me for years to come.”

Sherufa was astonished that the idea would enter his mind, and the thought of such a long and dangerous expedition made her heart quail. “No… no, I am not the best choice. There are better, younger, and more eager Saedrans. I've already seen my share of the world.”

Imir clucked at her. “Oh come now, my dear. You always encourage me to take notes about new and uncharted places. I know your fascination. This is your chance to expand the boundaries of the known world. What more could any Saedran desire?”

Sherufa couldn't think of a reply. How could he be so oblivious to her desire to stay at home, to read only the adventures that others had undertaken? Or maybe he was wily after all. Could this be a ploy to get her to marry him so that she could stay home?

But Imir dispelled that idea as he continued, bubbling with excitement. “How I wish I could go with you, my dear. The adventures we'd have! But alas, I have other obligations.” He grinned wolfishly. “Soldan Xivir and I are going to hunt down the desert bandits once and for all.”

From where the guards held him, Yal Dolicar shouted, “I'll go! Take me with you on the voyage! I have seen much of the world, both Uraba and Tierra! No one is as well versed in foreign lands. I journeyed to every reach in Tierra before the war began and to all the soldanates in Uraba. I have knowledge and experience that would be crucial to the success of such a long and dangerous voyage.”

Sherufa decided to speak on his behalf, although reluctantly. “I have reason to believe this man is indeed well traveled as he claims.” Dolicar would not have known the name of Aldo's father unless he had actually traveled from Olabar to Calay.

Though Soldan-Shah Omra frowned at the charlatan's continued protests, Saan apparently saw something worthwhile in his earnest charisma. “There's truly no telling how he got that map, Father. What if he was tricked himself? He wouldn't be the first person to buy a false chart from an unscrupulous merchant.”

Omra remained skeptical, but Saan continued. “You yourself said that I will need an experienced crew aboard the Al-Orizin. Sen Sherufa and I can't do it ourselves! The voyage will be long and difficult, with no guarantee of a safe return. And if it is this man's fate to die, should he not die out there instead of here at court?”

Yal Dolicar fell to his knees once more. “Such wisdom in a young man! I will be a fine sailor—I have much experience aboard ships.”

Omra was displeased but resigned. “I could never deny anything you request, Saan. This is your decision, and you will have to live with it. The captain of a ship must abide by his choices.” The soldan-shah tapped his fingers together in contemplation. “Still, this man tried to cheat me, and he must face some punishment. I will not have you talk me out of that.” He dismissively gave the order to Kel Rovic, “Cut off one of his hands. That'll be enough to remind him never to handle stolen goods again.”

Dolicar wailed, trying to escape, but the guards held him firmly. “No, not my hand, not my right hand! No!”

As he was dragged away, Sen Sherufa stood numb next to a grinning Imir. “I appreciate the gesture, Imir—I truly do—but I'd rather stay home and study maps. And if you aren't going along on the voyage to watch over me…”

He leaned closer, whispering in her ear. “Ah, you'll miss me, I know. Never fear, I will be thinking about you as well. And when you come back home, my dear, you'll have many new stories to tell me.”

Omra spoke to everyone in the throne room. “Send the announcement across all of Uraba. The Al-Orizin will set sail as soon as Saan gathers the rest of his crew.”