Free Europa by Joseph Robert Lewis

at a time.
    The hours crept by, and Omar slipped away into the world of ghostly singers and dancers preserved within his seireiken.
    “Captain?” Kosoko called out over the growl of the engine. “I’d like to propose a little change of plan.”
    “What’s that?” Riuza asked.
    “This Rus map, it looks nearly perfect. I think we might be better served if we speed up and I simply spend the time confirming as much of this map as possible rather than reinvent the wheel on my own.”
    “You want to go faster?” the captain asked.
    “Yes, much. Same altitude, full speed ahead. If I see any discrepancies I can tell you to stop, but right now I’d like to see just how accurate Mister Bakhoum’s map really is. I think it would be a better use of our time.”
    “All right.” Riuza’s hands and feet barely moved, but Omar immediately felt the surge of power from the propellers as the Frost Finch accelerated into the northern sky.
    Another hour passed and Omar tried to sit patiently and quietly, waiting for the expedition’s work to end so his real journey could begin, the final leg across the Sea of Ice. From time to time he glanced at Kosoko or the maps or out the window, but it was all the same. Snow and rocks and surf and seals. The forests had thinned out just north of Edinburgh and now trees appeared vanishingly rare, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that or anything else.
    It was nearly noon when Kosoko turned back around to sit down in his seat, piling his papers in his lap. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, breathing heavily and wincing slightly as he pressed his hand to his stomach. “Captain? I don’t see any need to continue any farther. Every meter of this coastline is drawn with exacting detail on the Rus map. Even the rocky islands off to the east. And the proportions to the mountains in the west look right to me as well. I’m satisfied, at least for the moment.”
    Riuza looked back at the men. “You’re sure? We came all the way up here for this. I want you to be sure.”
    “Captain, believe me, no one wants to be more certain than I do. But I’ve been comparing this map to the land below us for over three hours now. That’s several hundred kilometers, at least. And it’s all correct. The Rus map is correct. If nothing else, this expedition has allowed us to verify this map, which is worth Mister Bakhoum’s weight in gold. I think we’d be best served by heading home and translating the old map instead of lingering at the end of the world to draw a new one. I can continue to confirm his map on the way back, too. But I’m satisfied for the moment. It’s accurate, captain.”
    “If you’re satisfied, then so am I.” She turned to Omar. “Well, Mister Bakhoum, it looks like it’s time to find your island, and well ahead of schedule at that. Can you give me a bearing and range?”
    Omar discussed the measurements with Kosoko using their two maps and then called out, “Bearing northwest three-one-four. Distance, thirteen hundred kilometers.”
    “Thirteen?” The captain shook her head. “All right, but it’ll be close to midnight before we get there, assuming the wind cooperates. That’s a long time over open ocean. You’re certain of the bearing?”
    “Absolutely, dear lady.” Omar grinned and patted Kosoko on the knee. The cartographer offered a weak and sickly smile in return. “We are certain. Full speed ahead to Ysland!”
    Full speed to the gates of paradise, full speed to the garden of the sages! After all these years, I’m finally here, nearing the end of my too-long journey. Finally.
    Lunch was a cold handful of fruits and nuts, and the afternoon was an uneventful cruise above the clouds that hid the northern sea and left them in a featureless expanse of blue sky and white clouds. From time to time, Omar would pace up to the cabin to peer out the forward windscreen, hoping to be the first to sight his island, but there was rarely