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couldn’t think beyond today as he left the house and bounded down to the merchants’ quarter, imagining all the things
     he could buy.
    Aldo walked past the goldsmiths, the gem sellers, the weavers. His nose was drawn to the confectioners’ tents, where sweet
     treats were made with honey and cane sugar. Other vendors roasted savory skewers over low smoky fires. His mouth watered…
     but buying food seemed a waste of his money. He might be satisfied for a few hours, but then his stomach would demand more
     the next day. For such a momentous occasion, he wanted something permanent, something special.
    A lanky man with intense brown eyes and a narrow, weathered face sat upon a splintered barrel, ignoring the bustle and chatter
     of the merchant stalls. He leaned forward, bony elbows on the patched knees of his breeches, spreading his hands as he told
     a tale with great vehemence and enthusiasm, though to only a few listeners. The man saw Aldo and called out, as his other
     listeners wandered away. “Boy, you should hear my story. You will find it of value.”
    “I’m not a boy.” Aldo squared his shoulders. “I’m a Saedran chartsman. A
chartsman
.” It was the first time he had said it, and the title felt very good.
    The lanky man smiled. “And I am a sea captain without a ship. But I do have a tale. Listen.” He beckoned Aldo closer.
    Now that he was a chartsman, Aldo realized, part of his responsibility was to gather information from sailors and explorers.
     Even though he hadn’t gone to the edge of the world himself, eyewitnesses could provide details that might not yet be known.
     He had heard tales about enormous sea serpents of any stripe or color, ocean witches, nettleweed that could reach up and sting
     a sailor so that he never woke up, stories of terrible storms and the more terrible Leviathan.
    This man, who introduced himself as Yal Dolicar, spoke with passion and intensity, conveying indisputable truth. “I captained
     a ship bound for Ishalem with a cargo of hemp rope and cured hides from Erietta. She was a two-masted cog, twenty years old
     but well caulked, well rigged, her sails patched but intact—until we encountered the storm. Hellish storm! For five days the
     winds blew us far from the coast. We had no Saedran chartsman aboard, mind you. Hah! We could have used
you
!” He jabbed a finger at Aldo. “We were at the mercy of the waves and currents. We were lost.
    “When the weather cleared, leaving the sun as bright as a gold basin and the waves as smooth as a mirror, we had come to a
     cluster of islands not marked on any chart! Swimming creatures circled our battered ship, sleek gray fish that could transmute
     themselves into human forms. They dove beneath the waves, playing with us, leading us on. And when we looked down through
     the water, we saw cities deep below—towers made of coral, houses and kirks built from mother-of-pearl. And mer-people swimming
     with lumps of gold and coral in their outstretched hands, pearls as big as your fist.”
    Aldo caught his breath. This sounded like the story of the sunken island continent of his people! What if this man’s storm-driven
     ship had truly found the remnants of the lost Saedran civilization? What if those people really had found a way through alchemy
     or sorcery to transform their bodies into sea-dwellers who could survive even after their land sank into the depths?
    “No one has seen the things I’ve seen,” Yal Dolicar said. “The mer-people towed us back into a strong current, and we eventually
     drifted to land, where I was rescued… but my ship sank in another storm, and I lost most of my remaining crew.” Dolicar leaned
     forward, grasping Aldo’s wrists to show his earnestness. “I can’t go back there, because I have no ship. But
you
could. You’re a Saedran chartsman. Perhaps you might lead an expedition?”
    He reached into his loose shirt and pulled out a rolled strip of paper. “I drew a map by estimating