Isle of Blood and Stone (Isle of Blood and Stone #1)(10)
When the party did not return by nightfall as planned, King Andrés and more soldiers rode out to find them. They came upon an unspeakable sight. Beneath a full moon, lying scattered across the meadow like broken dolls, were two dozen dead soldiers. Servants, too. There was no sign of the princes or Lord Antoni. The nurse, also, was missing.
The king launched a frantic search. Spies and emissaries, one and the same, were sent to kingdoms near and far to ferret out the truth. After many months, a Mondragan soldier was questioned. And slowly a crime was uncovered, layer by layer, exposing a rotted core at its center.
Five island kingdoms dotted the Sea of Magdalen like steppingstones. Each with its own language and customs. Each with its fortune tied in some way to the sea. The largest and most powerful stone was St. John del Mar, followed by Lunes, Mondrago, Hellespont, and Coronado.
Mondrago lay to the east of del Mar, at that time ruled by the newly crowned King Marius. Marius lived far more extravagantly than he ought to have, supplementing his treasury by imposing crippling taxes on his people. When that was not enough, he hatched a plan.
Bartolome and Teodor were to be snatched and held for ransom. The kidnapping of royals or noblemen was not unprecedented. They were on occasion waylaid, though returned unharmed once payment was made. The boys were to have been smuggled to an undisclosed location while terms were being negotiated between del Mar and an anonymous envoy representing Mondrago. Only something went wrong. The ship carrying the princes was lost in a storm.
Retribution was brutal. The grief-stricken King Andrés gathered his forces and sailed to Mondrago. King Marius denied having anything to do with the boys’ disappearance and, when that did not work, begged for mercy for himself and his family. His pleas fell on deaf ears. After an endless siege, Marius and his family were put to death, scores of nobility slaughtered, citizens scattered to the wind, castles and estates burned to rubble. Mondrago was now a del Marian possession. What remained of a once-picturesque island kingdom was an impoverished wasteland, a ruin.
The people of St. John del Mar settled into a prolonged period of mourning. The queen died the following spring, many said of a broken heart. And a third son, Ulises, only a babe when his brothers were lost, was named heir to the kingdom of del Mar.
That was where the story ended. Always.
Until now.
Elias strode across a different courtyard this time. One smaller than the other, and without an olive tree, but still remarkable. Beneath his feet was an immense compass star constructed of tilework in blues and greens and golds. The compass filled the entirety of the open courtyard. Eight wind points led directly to stone archways that, in turn, led to eight separate doors for the School of Navigation. The Tower of Winds rose directly ahead, its exterior not smooth and curved but octagonal, each side depicting a famed explorer. His father was up there, map carrier strapped to his back, his likeness facing the sea. The courtyard was empty except for a lone servant who swept the tile with a palm frond. Elias had just stomped past the compass’s northern point when he heard Lord Silva calling behind him.
“Elias! Stop.”
He did as he was told. Reyna had accompanied her grandfather. Lord Silva said something to her, and after an uncertain look in Elias’s direction, the child took herself off whence she had come.
When Lord Silva was only a few feet away, Elias said, “I’m done speaking of it.”
“And I’m not,” Lord Silva said mildly. “Come, let us go where we can talk frankly.” And he walked off into the tower, fully expecting to be obeyed.
Old habits died hard. Elias followed, trying to ignore the rolled maps Lord Silva had tucked beneath his arm.
The School of Navigation was housed along the castle’s northern walls. Books on geography, cosmography, hydro-graphy, astronomy, navigation, and foreign kingdoms were stored here. A vast quantity, though, far outnumbered by maps. Scroll upon scroll of rolled parchment could be found, maps and sea charts depicting every part of the known world.
A marble statue of Saint Cosme stood in the center of the main floor: forty feet tall, head and shoulders bent to carry the heavens on his shoulders. Tables were scattered around him. Mapmakers hunched over parchment, working shoulder to shoulder with the painters and miniaturists. In one corner, Lord Braga’s son Jaime shaved away a length of wood that was beginning to resemble a cross-staff. He grinned as they strode past and returned Elias’s salute with one of his own. Through an open door, Madame Vega instructed a group of boys on the use of an astrolabe.
Lord Silva’s work chamber was also filled with books and charts. A map of the world dominated one wall, nine feet by twelve feet, framed in gilt. This map had a cartouche. The signature read, Vittor, Tower of Winds, Kingdom of St. John del Mar.
Elias had never met Lord Silva’s eldest son. Vittor had died the year Elias was born, buried in an avalanche along with most of his expedition. His death had broken his widowed father, who had retreated to his home in Alfonse. Lord Silva had never intended to return as Royal Navigator. His former apprentice Antoni had assumed the role. But when, only months later, Antoni and the two princes disappeared, the king had summoned Lord Silva back to Cortes.
Lord Silva set the maps on the table. The parchment unfurled slightly; he had not bothered replacing the ribbons. Joints crackled as he lowered himself into a chair. He waited until Elias had paced the length of the chamber before he spoke. “You should not have lost your temper.”