The Key to Creation (45 page)

Mailes didn’t care about the Leviathan. This monster had killed the woman that he once—and still—loved. He rowed and searched through the debris, his heart aching, until he finally located what he sought. He trapped the moan of despair in his throat.

Iyomelka floated facedown, her skin pale, her hair drifting in the water. He pulled his small boat closer and leaned over the side to touch her, remembering all the times he had touched her when she was warm and alive. But she was cold now and unresponsive.

He pulled her body close, tore away the remaining splinters from the spar that had impaled her. With tears pouring down his cheeks, Mailes hauled her out of the water and placed her carefully in the boat.

Unable to express his grief, he rowed Iyomelka back to the lighthouse.

Tierran Military Camp,
Ishalem Wall

At first, darkness washed away the pain, and then the pain washed away the memories, but gradually it came back, one step at a time. Mateo remembered the fight on the Ishalem wall, the knife wound in his side, the arrow in his back, and the blood.

Sharper still, he remembered how he had longed to see Anjine for months, and how she had rebuffed him, showing that she did not want to be close to him. Her reaction to seeing him again was worse than facing an enemy charge, and now the recollection made Mateo want to fall back into the cycle of pain and darkness.

But he’d hidden in that place long enough already. No matter what he had lost, Mateo was still a soldier, and a soldier should never surrender.

He opened his eyes, unable to see where he was. The first thing that filled his bleary view was a woman’s face. He wanted it to be Anjine smiling over him, but this was an older woman with closely cropped hair and Saedran robes.

“I was right,” she said with a cluck of her tongue. “The other doctors said you wouldn’t awaken until tomorrow, if ever, but I could feel your strength.”

“How…long?”

“Long enough…two weeks. I’ve given you the best medicines we have, fresh and potent herbs to prevent infection, and a few secret ingredients of my own to keep up your strength.” Her frown lines deepened. “If you are the man I thought you were, you’ll understand how much you are needed right now. There is very little time.”

When Mateo tried to speak, only a rough sound came from his throat. She gave him tepid water, which he drank gratefully. “Anjine?” he finally said.

“Yes, it’s about Anjine. I am Sen Ola na-Ten, her personal doctor. I know things that others do not. She has had me quietly monitoring her condition, and I am oath-bound to maintain the queen’s secrets…but it can’t be a secret to you.” She raised her eyebrows and looked at him meaningfully. “Can it?”

He couldn’t fathom what she was saying. From the doctor’s expression, she seemed to expect an answer. Sen Ola helped Mateo sit up, and he felt unfathomably weak, worse than when he’d suffered from the gray fever as a child. Back then, he had needed months to regain his strength, but he couldn’t afford that now. He tried to turn, but pain ripped through his side and back. He nearly passed out, but Sen Ola caught him.

Two physicians hurried over, chattering excitedly. “Subcomdar Bornan, please lie back down! You must rest and regain your strength.”

Fussing over him, one of the physicians said, “I’ll give him a potion to make him sleep for many hours. His body is healing itself.”

Sen Ola shooed away the other two doctors and called for simple broth. “I’m tending him. Don’t you have your own patients?”

“Subcomdar Bornan
is
my patient,” said the first doctor.

“Well, he’s mine, now. He and I have matters to discuss. Now go away.”

The men were surprised and puzzled, but when a soldier cried out on his cot, thrashing and pulling at his bandages, they ran to him.

When the broth came, Sen Ola removed two packets from a deerskin pouch tied to her waist. “The writings of Saedran apothecaries in Uraba describe the benefits of certain local flowers.” She crumbled the dry petals of pink blossoms into the broth and added a sprinkle of hard, dark seeds. “And a hint of innat seeds for the pain and to sharpen your thoughts. You need to
think
right now.”

Sen Ola fed him spoonful by spoonful. Mateo sipped, and the broth tasted salty, hot, and nourishing.

She whispered, “The queen commanded me to give her an abortive potion, though I strongly advised against it. The…process will be hard for her, but she’s convinced herself that she can’t be troubled by
human
responsibilities in such a time of war.” She lowered her chin, shook her head. “It is a terrible thing.”

“What terrible thing?” Mateo asked, trying to clear the fog from his thoughts. He could feel the broth restoring him, the innat seeds giving him energy, focusing his thoughts. Had she said something about a secret?

“Shouldn’t it be your decision as well as hers, Subcomdar? She should consult with you, at least. The queen clings to the odd notion that she can’t be a ruler and a mother at the same time, but I believe she feels she doesn’t deserve any such happiness. In punishing herself, she’s truly punishing an innocent child.”

Mateo reeled, sure that this was some fever hallucination brought on by pain and loss of blood, but when the Saedran woman grabbed his arm, she felt solid enough.

“A child?” He kept his voice low, and his throat was dry again. Then another thought clicked into place, a sharp and solid answer like the tooth of a gear in a Saedran machine. No wonder Anjine had been avoiding him! Her reaction to him wasn’t just cold and formal—it was
protective
. She was trying to prevent him from sharing her pain. It was his child,
their
child. His heart pounded harder in his chest, and strength flowed through him—strength and urgency. “I need to see her.”

“Yes, Subcomdar, you do. After she drinks the chemical draught I gave her, her body will reject the baby. She believes that is the only way she can keep fighting the Urecari.”

Mateo breathed heavily. “No…not yet. I must see her.” His body had barely grasped the idea that he was still alive, and this was more than his mind could handle. He felt dizzy. “Let me talk to her first.”

He and Vicka had once talked breezily about the children they would have, but he went off to war so soon after their wedding that they never had a chance for a family. Having lost Vicka forever, he’d assumed that children would never be possible.

Sen Ola stood up and thrust the bowl back into his trembling hands so he could finish. “I will talk to her. Once she knows you are awake, she will come to see you.”

“Hurry,” Mateo said. The Saedran woman ran off.

A guard prevented her from entering Anjine’s tent, despite Sen Ola’s loud protests. The man wouldn’t budge. “The queen has commanded that no one disturb her.”

The Saedran knew exactly why Queen Anjine insisted on being alone, what she was contemplating…if it wasn’t already too late. She raised her voice. “Tell her that Subcomdar Bornan is awake.”

The guards shook their heads. “Her instructions were specific and very strict.” Sen Ola tried to push past them. Again the guard blocked her.

She shouted for several minutes more, without result, until a commotion occurred near the medical tent. Ola looked over to see a bandaged figure stagger out, followed by insistent physicians who fluttered around him like gulls on a fishing boat. Barely able to move, Mateo shuffled forward, swaying with each step. He pushed himself along by sheer force of will. The Saedran doctors tried to drag him back into the tent, but he yanked his arm away, his face tightening into a grimace of pain. A blossom of blood appeared on the bandage at his side; his left arm hung limp.

Sen Ola whirled on the guards. “If you don’t bring the queen out
now
, Subcomdar Bornan will die. Look at him—he’ll kill himself to get to her!” She intercepted Mateo and, recognizing Sen Ola, he slumped against her.

Anjine emerged from her tent, looking pale and shaky, her eyes wide. Mateo looked up to see her, and their eyes locked. She stopped short, seemingly as disoriented as he was. “Mateo, what are you doing?” She ran forward. “Don’t hurt yourself any more—you’ve already lost so much blood!”

“I’ve lost so
much
, Anjine!” Mateo let out a rasping shout. It took the queen and Sen Ola in concert to hold him up. “Please don’t, don’t do it…” He sounded delirious, but Sen Ola and the queen knew what he meant.

Anjine’s expression hardened, and she shot an accusing glance at the Saedran physician. Sen Ola remained unruffled. “It is his child too,” she whispered harshly.

“Take him to my tent, now!” Anjine barked. “He’ll rest there, and I’ll watch over him.”

“He needs his physicians, Majesty,” protested one of the doctors.

“I have Sen Ola. That’s enough.” The two women managed to get Mateo to her tent and gently laid him on her fur-covered camp bed. He seemed to melt onto the cot like fading mist. His eyes were glazed but open, staring at Anjine.

Sen Ola worked at his dressings, examined the sutures, and prodded with exaggerated concern at his cuts and the renewed bleeding. Saying nothing, she applied fresh dressings to his wounds, while Mateo and Anjine studied each other, as if the physician were not there.

“We have a child,” Mateo said.

Anjine looked both stony and despondent. “I have to lead the army, Mateo. I have to be queen. You and I aren’t married. And…” She let her voice trail off.

Sen Ola noticed the small glass vial of green liquid, the draught she had provided. For now, it remained sealed.

“It wasn’t an accident,” Mateo said. “It’s a blessing from Aiden.”

“Or a burden and a curse. When I think of Tomas…” The words caught in her throat. “This could open us up to so many more tragedies. I don’t dare—I couldn’t stand it! I don’t deserve—”

With a flash of anger, Mateo interrupted her. “I’ve had enough tragedies too. I no longer have Vicka, and I gave up hope for children, a family…any kind of happiness.”

“I didn’t want you to know, Mateo. It was my decision. I can’t think only of my own heart.
I’m the queen of Tierra.
”

Mateo reached out to clasp her hand. “This war has already demanded too many bloody sacrifices—don’t make another one. If the queen has no heart, then Tierra is lost.” He slumped back, having expended all of his energy.

Sen Ola finished bandaging the side wound, then attended to the deep cut on his back, which was also bleeding. “Just coming to see you has cost him a great deal, Majesty. It is obvious what this means to him.”

Anjine drew a hitching breath, and clear realization washed over her face. “If…if he should die, then I would have nothing of him but memories.” She took the glass vial from her tabletop and handed it back to the Saedran physician. “Take this away, before I change my mind.”

Part IV

The
Dyscovera

Now that they had come together in an unknown ocean, the two Saedran chartsmen had a whole world to share. Aldo and Sherufa were colleagues from long ago, and over the years they had secretly traded knowledge about newly discovered lands, helping to complete the ever-expanding Mappa Mundi.

Earlier that afternoon, when the uneasy crewmembers mingled aboard the joined ships, Aldo recognized one of the
Al-Orizin
sailors with a start. “You! I know you.” The man looked startled; he pretended not to understand the Tierran language, but Aldo pressed him. “You delivered a message to me in Calay. Sen Sherufa gave you a package with her notes about the Great Desert and the Nunghal lands, and she sent you all the way from Olabar.”

Yal Dolicar flushed, feigning a heavy Uraban accent (which he had not used before). “You must be mistaken.”

Sen Sherufa frowned at him. “You know it’s true, Yal Dolicar. You are only aboard this ship because I vouched for your story before the soldan-shah. Chartsmen have perfect memories. You can’t expect him to have forgotten.”

Dolicar seemed nonplussed and embarrassed. “Oh yes! Now I remember. What a surprise to see you here.”

Aldo narrowed his eyes and continued with an edge in his voice, “You’re also the same man who sold me a fake map on the day I became a chartsman. At the Calay docks, you told a fantastic tale about coastlines you’d seen, and I paid for a chart of those foreign lands—but of course it was a scam.”

Yal Dolicar looked as if he very much wanted to be somewhere else. “I am certain that’s not true. I would never cheat a young man, and it was so many years ago you couldn’t possibly—”

“Chartsmen have perfect memories,” he and Sherufa reminded him in unison.

Dolicar flushed a deeper red and let out a long sigh. “How can I argue with you? My recollection is much fuzzier than that, but if I did something foolish and impetuous all those years ago, you’ll have to forgive me. I can repay you the money you lost—I have some very interesting coins I found on a mysterious ice-locked ship.…”