the world, but the details had been reported reliably by Saedran chartsmen.
Their libraries held thousands of volumes written in a coded language that required expertise to read; no outsiders could
decipher their complex letters. Every Saedran home, including Aldo’s, held dozens of heirloom volumes, luxury items that most
Tierrans could not afford.
Finished, the young man slid the hand-drawn constellation map back to Sen Leo, who glanced at it, then brushed it aside. “Describe
in detail the streets in Bora’s Bastion, the capital city of Alamont Reach. Tell me in particular what the houses look like,
and list the merchant stalls in order, as one would encounter them walking clockwise across the central district from the
riverport.”
Aldo painted the picture in his mind as vividly as if he had seen these things himself. He did as the old teacher asked. He
had never been to Lahjar, nor to Alamont Reach, nor to any place other than the city of Calay, yet his answers didn’t waver.
Sen Leo watched him intently; Aldo hoped for a smile of approval, but did not expect to receive one. With each question, the
examination was bound to get much harder.
Among Saedrans, occasionally a child would be gifted with perfect recall, the ability to memorize details at a glance and
retain them without flaw. Saedran families carefully tested their children, watching for any hint of the valuable skill. Anyone
who demonstrated a particularly sharp memory was marked for special teaching, in hopes that he or she would become a chartsman.
Aldo had been developing his talent for so many years that he could answer all the instructor’s questions as a matter of course.
After today, he
would
be a chartsman.
As navigators aboard sailing ships, Saedran chartsmen were highly prized and highly paid. The captain of any large cargo vessel
desiring to take the fastest course needed a chartsman aboard; otherwise, he wouldn’t dare lose sight of the coastline. Skilled
chartsmen, however, could navigate theoretical courses and locate a ship’s position by esoteric means. They knew how to use
astrolabes, sextants, and ship’s clocks to determine the precise latitude of sailing vessels. Their intricate sealed mechanical
clocks allowed them to tell time with sufficient accuracy to calculate longitude. Only Saedran chartsmen understood how to
do it, and they carried no documents, no books or tables; they had to have every coordinate memorized.
Though their population was small, Saedrans were crucial to Tierran society as well. Even those who did not have perfect recall
served vital roles as astronomers, alchemists, cartographers, apothecaries, surgeons. They did not follow the Aidenist religion,
but they were not persecuted. Even so, his people drew no attention to themselves. It would not do for other Tierrans to realize
just how wealthy the Saedrans were, or how much political influence they wielded.
Sen Leo forced Aldo to keep demonstrating what he knew, asking him to recite passages verbatim from random pages of obscure
volumes. Aldo sat back, closed his eyes, and spoke the words as requested. The teacher had chosen one of his favorite passages—unintentionally,
Aldo was sure—a story about the Saedran origins, the continent his people had discovered and settled, which had tragically
vanished beneath the waves, sinking forever to the ocean’s bottom. Perhaps it was actual history, perhaps only a myth.
Finishing his recitation, Aldo looked expectantly at Sen Leo na-Hadra. His throat was dry, his voice hoarse, and gauging by
the thin line of orange sunlight that seeped between the gap in the curtains, he had been at his examination for several hours.
Sen Leo extended a cup of water, and Aldo gulped. The old man smiled. “I welcome you to the ranks of chartsmen, Aldo na-Curic.
We Saedrans have one more mind and one more set of eyes to see the world.”
After everything he had just spoken, Aldo