Korastine announced to the Urabans, “your lives have been spared.” The king stood
on the docks, wearing formal robes and his crown. “Tell your soldan-shah that we can neither forgive nor forget what the Urabans
have done, not the deaths of my people, not the burning of Ishalem.”
The diplomats shouted a response in their own language, which no one bothered to translate. Korastine didn’t care to know
what they were saying; the meaning was clear enough. He had hoped for such an entirely different outcome when he and Imir
had signed the Edict. But after what he had seen that night, there could be no turning back…
His ship had sailed back to the capital, while to the south the smoke remained like a giant pillar in the sky for days afterward.
On the voyage, Korastine had begun to form plans to fortify his defenses. Sitting on the deck for hours, he talked with Anjine,
telling her ideas as they formed in his mind. Though she was still young, he considered it imperative that she understand
the difficult decisions a leader must face.
His advisers, the people, the presters, the traders, all of them made the same demands. As king, he should have been able
to make the choices
he
wanted, not the choices that circumstances pushed him into. Korastine could no longer abide trade with Uraban merchants,
and the five reaches of Tierra would have to look to their own mines, farms, rivers, and grazing lands in order to produce
what the people needed.
Immediately upon reaching Calay, Korastine issued orders for his guards to round up all Uraban diplomats in the Royal District.
The news of the fire had not yet spread throughout the city, but from that day forward, every follower of Urec had to be considered
an enemy and a potential spy.
City guards isolated indignant and confused Uraban merchants, herding them to a separate area in the Merchants’ District.
Korastine ordered their goods “temporarily” confiscated, their ships impounded until he could make his decision. He did not
want to keep these men in Calay, but he feared he might need hostages. Soldan-Shah Imir was sure to do the same—or worse—as
soon as he got back to Olabar.
The stuffy veteran leader of the Tierran military, Comdar Delnas, dispatched the available warships to turn back any vessels
showing distinctive Uraban sails. Many such merchants had been sailing for weeks from ports in Outer Wahilir, working their
way northward from one stop to the next, unaware of the destruction of Ishalem. When their ships were boarded and King Korastine’s
proclamation was read to them, the Uraban merchants expressed disbelief and outrage, sure that the Aidenists were to blame.
Their cargoes could just as easily have been taken as prizes, but the king issued orders that the men were to be sent home,
unharmed, in hopes that the soldan-shah would follow the same rule. He feared, though, that any Aidenist trader who pulled
into a Uraban port city would suffer a harsher fate.
In the following weeks, Korastine dispatched scouts down to Ishalem, and they reported news as grave as he had expected: The
out-of-control fires had burned Ishalem virtually to the ground, eradicating the shrines, the main Aidenist kirk, the merchant
districts, the royal residence. Nothing but charred fragments remained of the Arkship. The Urecari side of the city was also
destroyed.
Now, on the day of the final eviction from Calay, when the last foreigners had boarded their ships, Korastine gave orders
for the exotic-looking vessels to cast off. Hooting crowds followed the drifting boats, throwing horse dung and rotten fruits
at the decks. Though they were clearly furious, the departing Urabans held on to their dignity as their ships headed toward
the mouth of the harbor, closely escorted by Tierran military vessels until they were out in the open sea.
Korastine had hoped to feel relief now that the decision had been made and implemented. But his
on the docks, wearing formal robes and his crown. “Tell your soldan-shah that we can neither forgive nor forget what the Urabans
have done, not the deaths of my people, not the burning of Ishalem.”
The diplomats shouted a response in their own language, which no one bothered to translate. Korastine didn’t care to know
what they were saying; the meaning was clear enough. He had hoped for such an entirely different outcome when he and Imir
had signed the Edict. But after what he had seen that night, there could be no turning back…
His ship had sailed back to the capital, while to the south the smoke remained like a giant pillar in the sky for days afterward.
On the voyage, Korastine had begun to form plans to fortify his defenses. Sitting on the deck for hours, he talked with Anjine,
telling her ideas as they formed in his mind. Though she was still young, he considered it imperative that she understand
the difficult decisions a leader must face.
His advisers, the people, the presters, the traders, all of them made the same demands. As king, he should have been able
to make the choices
he
wanted, not the choices that circumstances pushed him into. Korastine could no longer abide trade with Uraban merchants,
and the five reaches of Tierra would have to look to their own mines, farms, rivers, and grazing lands in order to produce
what the people needed.
Immediately upon reaching Calay, Korastine issued orders for his guards to round up all Uraban diplomats in the Royal District.
The news of the fire had not yet spread throughout the city, but from that day forward, every follower of Urec had to be considered
an enemy and a potential spy.
City guards isolated indignant and confused Uraban merchants, herding them to a separate area in the Merchants’ District.
Korastine ordered their goods “temporarily” confiscated, their ships impounded until he could make his decision. He did not
want to keep these men in Calay, but he feared he might need hostages. Soldan-Shah Imir was sure to do the same—or worse—as
soon as he got back to Olabar.
The stuffy veteran leader of the Tierran military, Comdar Delnas, dispatched the available warships to turn back any vessels
showing distinctive Uraban sails. Many such merchants had been sailing for weeks from ports in Outer Wahilir, working their
way northward from one stop to the next, unaware of the destruction of Ishalem. When their ships were boarded and King Korastine’s
proclamation was read to them, the Uraban merchants expressed disbelief and outrage, sure that the Aidenists were to blame.
Their cargoes could just as easily have been taken as prizes, but the king issued orders that the men were to be sent home,
unharmed, in hopes that the soldan-shah would follow the same rule. He feared, though, that any Aidenist trader who pulled
into a Uraban port city would suffer a harsher fate.
In the following weeks, Korastine dispatched scouts down to Ishalem, and they reported news as grave as he had expected: The
out-of-control fires had burned Ishalem virtually to the ground, eradicating the shrines, the main Aidenist kirk, the merchant
districts, the royal residence. Nothing but charred fragments remained of the Arkship. The Urecari side of the city was also
destroyed.
Now, on the day of the final eviction from Calay, when the last foreigners had boarded their ships, Korastine gave orders
for the exotic-looking vessels to cast off. Hooting crowds followed the drifting boats, throwing horse dung and rotten fruits
at the decks. Though they were clearly furious, the departing Urabans held on to their dignity as their ships headed toward
the mouth of the harbor, closely escorted by Tierran military vessels until they were out in the open sea.
Korastine had hoped to feel relief now that the decision had been made and implemented. But his
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