The Edge of the World by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

heart remained heavy and unsettled.
    Returning to the castle, Korastine passed through the gauntlet of courtiers, functionaries, and servants, and headed to his
     withdrawing room. Through long habit, he wanted some time in private after his public appearance and prior to his afternoon
     meetings.
    For the rest of the day he would sit with representatives of the destrars, the leaders of each of the five reaches, all of
     whom brought their local problems and complaints—none of which could match the far greater crisis that faced their entire
     world. Unable to see the potential wealth that exploration could yield, the destrars complained about the increased taxes
     Korastine had levied to pay for constructing the
Luminara.
They also complained when he built houses for the healers and shelters for poor dockworkers. In some things, he could impose
     his will.
    Construction of the exploratory ship had begun well before the signing of the Edict. Some might have said that after the burning
     of Ishalem, the terms of the Edict were no longer in force, but Korastine refused to think that way. He and Soldan-Shah Imir
     had sworn an oath. They had pressed their
blood
into the helm of the Arkship. Their promise was sacred before God and binding upon their souls.
    Prester-Marshall Baine had preached a “new revelation” from the Book of Aiden to the hundreds who gathered for services in
     Calay’s large Aidenist church. Holding up Aiden’s command that all people should “learn and remember Ondun’s glory,” Baine
     interpreted the Law of Laws to mean that humans should engage in
discovery
rather than rote memorization.
    Many presters were uneasy with this shift in focus, wanting to stay in their small village kirks and preach what had always
     been preached, what they themselves had memorized. But Baine’s enthusiasm was infectious. “For the longest time, we believed
     that Aiden’s arrival at Ishalem was the end of our journey. But what if this is only the beginning? What if our whole continent
     is merely a stopping point on the great voyage of destiny?”
    With his forceful personality, he excited a sense of wonder in his listeners. He made people dream again. And he had the ear
     of the king…
    Korastine removed his crown and set it on his writing-desk, then pulled off his heavy embroidered robe, though an army of
     servants would have liked to assist him with the dressing and undressing chores. His ruffled linen shirt was formal enough
     for the rest of the day.
    His bedchamber had seemed quiet and empty since the death of Queen Sena. Now, hearing a rustle in the library alcove, he called
     out, “I am ready for you, Sen Leo. Advise me before the destrars come and harry me like birds fighting over a sunflower head.”
    The Saedran scholar emerged from the alcove, absently carrying one of Korastine’s books. Though Sen Leo had thousands of volumes
     of his own, he was always engrossed in Korastine’s books when he came to visit. The king enjoyed speaking with the Saedran
     scholar both before and after difficult meetings. He was one of the wisest men Korastine knew.
    “The
Luminara
is nearly ready to launch, but the destrars will resent their share of the cost until they actually see gold come back into
     their treasuries,” the king said. “It’ll be a year before the ship is due to return.”
    “Destrars complain—it is a fact of life,” Sen Leo said with a snort. “They look at their crude maps, and because they see
     no islands or coastlines, they assume nothing is there, just the edge of the world.”
    Korastine slumped into his high-backed chair. “Don’t belittle their concerns. Because of the Ishalem fire, we’ll have to build
     up our military, construct a more powerful navy, recruit many more soldiers. Perhaps they are right that we can ill afford
     such an expensive discretionary venture now.”
    Sen Leo was alarmed. “We can ill afford to forsake it, Majesty! As you say, the ship is nearly