A New Star

The days passed, and still there had been no sign of Hayreddin. Young Revan was sad and confused, feeling abandoned. He had often asked his parents and grandparents about when would his Uncle return, but none had an answer.

So, he had turned to others: the guards, the servants, even the elderly scribe, Memnos.

No one could answer him.

Revan had taken to sleeping on the big couch in Hayreddin's quarters, hoping he might catch his Uncle. He never did though.

The boy cannot remember a day when Hayreddin had not been there. His Uncle had been a constant presence in his life, as dear to Revan as his parents were. More often than not, it was Hayreddin that Revan would run to when he had questions, it was Hayreddin who would tell him stories and teach him important lessons. It was usually Hayreddin behind whom Revan would hide if he had pulled some mischief on great-grandmother Isan.

He missed his great-grandmother too. She had also been a constant presence in his young life; her advanced age being no barrier to her fire and zeal. She had been a ruthlessly efficient administrator and cunning diplomat. And she had loved her family just as fiercely. Revan missed her rapid speech, the impatient bite in her words, her gruff affection. He even missed the way she would cuff his head whenever he irritated her. Now he would never have any of that again.

Now Revan was scared that Hayreddin had gone away too.

XI XI XI

Memnos the Scribe.

The Scribe of Hayreddin.

The Historian of Baybar.

Such were the titles the people of Baybar had bestowed upon him. He certainly looked the part: he was tall but spare, dressed in royal purple robes with silver trim. His head was as bald as a chicken's egg, and just as brown. But he had a most magnificent beard, often described as spun silver rather than grey, long and luxurious, falling to his waist where it was kept in check by a single gold ring.

Despite the sage he appeared to be, Memnos had been a young man when Hayreddin had first came to Ain. He had been a lowly junior scribe then, writing the dictations of his master, a man of blunt, direct words. Hayreddin's arrival had changed all that.

Memnos had never seen such a man before, a man of great beauty, vision and intelligence. Hearing Hayreddin's ideas and plans, even delivered through the unimaginative words of his master, had inspired him and inflamed him so that he dared to rewrite his master's words with his own. In secret, Memnos had chronicled the exploits of Hayreddin and his companions in his own hand, the words flowing through him as though from a divine source from within.

His master had eventually found out, but rather than rage at Memnos for rewriting his words as one would expect, he had instead raged at Memnos for hiding his talent. His master had informed Elder Nebud, and Memnos had been granted the honour of officially chronicling the events that happened at Ain.

Specifically, the events surrounding Hayreddin.

Everything that had happened, Memnos had put to paper, with words that vividly described the events in such a way that made the reader feel as they were physically there, made them feel as Memnos had felt as he had witnessed the events unfold. When it had all ended, and Hayreddin had prepared to leave, Memnos had begged his master to give him leave to follow. Memnos had known then that his career as a scribe needed Hayreddin to thrive.

In the decades that followed, his work became one of the most renowned throughout Baybar. Noted for his eloquence, his artistic use of words, many of Baybar's scholars declared his writings not so much as reading material, but as a window through which they relived history and Hayreddin's deeds. Memnos had chronicled everything since the events of Ain; the death of Hayreddin's parents, the Pirate War, the various dealings with the city-states, even Hayreddin's travels across the seas.

Memnos had not been there himself to witness the events during Hayreddin's voyages, but his greatest subject had been good about providing him with material to work with. Hayreddin had sent him word after word by raven, allowing Memnos to continue his work despite not physically being there himself. Memnos had been content to rely upon Hayreddin's word to compose his work.

But then abruptly, the ravens stopped coming. Memnos suddenly had nothing concrete to work with. Rumours abounded; Hayreddin was dead, the most remarkable man Baybar had ever seen was gone, forever lost without a trace. Every day, the people of Nuba would look to the sea, hoping to spot the ship that would bring Hayreddin home. But for a long time, there was nothing.

And Memnos himself had been lost. The source of his greatest - indeed, his only work in life had been lost. Left with nothing, Memnos had prepared himself to write an obituary, an epitaph for the man called Hayreddin. But then, the man himself had been recovered, alone on a raft on which he had travelled for thousands of miles from an uncharted island.

At first, Memnos had been at once delighted and aggrieved. Delighted that the source of his muse had been recovered, but he also grieved that so many lives had been lost, including that of the highly honoured Ravenna; Hayreddin's long-time comrade and closest friend.

But in time, Hayreddin's personal tragedy and triumph had had far-reaching effects than Memnos would have preferred.

Hayreddin had become closed off since his return from his ordeal across the seas. He kept to himself, speaking as little as possible to anyone, and barely speaking to Memnos at all in the years since his return from the seas. Indeed, the most noteworthy event that Memnos had chronicled since then was Isan's death. And that had been an impossible event to miss. Isan's life practically wrote itself. Other than that, Memnos had nothing to work with.

Hayreddin had simply withdrawn from the world.

Nowadays, Memnos spent his time archiving his work, and the works of other scholars. Occasionally he would give lectures on the fine art of the written word to aspiring scribes, but he was bereft, empty, uninspired.

Lost.

"As a warrior needs wars to give him purpose, so too does a scribe need a muse from which to draw inspiration to write," murmured Memnos to himself.

"Pardon, Master?" asked a passing attendant, a young pretty girl.

Memnos smiled ruefully and waved her away. "Nothing to concern yourself with, my dear. Just an old man's troubles."

The attendant bowed and hurried off. Memnos watched her for a moment before surveying the great library in which he stood; nearly half the works on the shelves had been written by him.

His tribute and legacy to Baybar.

"Perhaps, I am finished," said Memnos to himself. "Is this the end of my life's work?"

Outside the library window, the sun was still high in the sky, and yet a star shone brightly.

A star that had never been seen in Baybar's skies before.

XI XI XI

The sun was setting in the sea, blazing golden red. The merchants were closing their shops, the vendors their stalls, and the guards were lighting the night fires. Mothers called their children home, friends stopped for drinks and camaraderie, shopkeepers were counting their earnings. There was an air of contentment and happiness throughout the streets.

A raven fluttered over the city.

A raven whose feathers were the colour of sand.

It cawed, distress and anguish in its voice.

But the people below, lost in their contentment, did not notice.

The raven continued to caw, desperate to make itself heard. It alighted on a nearby lamp post, its cries growing shrill.

Below, some people began to take notice. Those who did were the first to see fire descending from sky.

They too, cried out.

There was a great flash of light, and a roar that drowned out all noise. The air became scorching hot, the earth was torn apart, the seas boiled and people turned to ashes.

And the world burned.

And still the raven screamed.

And Revan woke, screaming. He could feel the fire, hear the screams. He thrashed violently, batting away at the strong hands that sought to restrain him. It was only when he heard Hayreddin's voice that he calmed down.

"It's alright, Revan. Don't hurt yourself now. I'm here."

Blinking his tears away, Revan found himself looking up into his beloved Uncle's face. The relief he felt at seeing Hayreddin gave way to hurt and anger. All the pent-up frustration from the perceived neglect by his Uncle came bubbling forth. But Revan did not shout; it was not his way.

His Uncle had taught him better.

"I thought you were gone for good," was what Revan said, in a quiet voice that nevertheless conveyed his true feelings.

And of course, Hayreddin sensed it.

"Forgive me, Revan," said Hayreddin.

"We miss her too," said Revan. "We all do, but...but we can't just...just go away when something bad happens. Atta says, that's the most important time for us to...stand together. Because we're family."

Hayreddin gently laid his hand on Revan's head.

"You are right, Revan," he said, and Revan could hear the smile in Hayreddin's voice. "Your father is right. And your great-grandmother would be most upset with my recent behaviour."

Revan wiped his tears away as Hayreddin ruffled his hair. He did not want to cry in front of his Uncle, but pent-up emotions within had been hard to suppress.

"Were you having a nightmare?" asked Hayreddin.

Revan nodded, but said no more. He didn't want to bother his Uncle with such a silly thing.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Revan shook his head, and Hayreddin nodded.

"Shall we go down and see everyone?" asked Hayreddin. Revan nodded and took his Uncle's hand.

XI XI XI

It was near sundown, and most of the administrative palace was empty but for a few servants lighting the night fires. They all stopped and stared when Hayreddin walked past, as though they had seen a ghost.

He acknowledged them with a nod here, a polite greeting there, and moved on. As Hayreddin and Revan continued through the halls, they ran into an elderly man dressed in rich purple robes. He dropped the scrolls he was carrying in surprise.

"My good sir, Hayreddin!" exclaimed the old man. "I was beginning to believe that you were lost to us forever!"

"Forgive me, Memnos," replied Hayreddin. "I was indisposed."

Revan helped gather the dropped scrolls and returned them to Memnos.

"Thank you, my boy," said the scribe before turning to Hayreddin. "May I offer you my sincerest condolences. I did not have the honour of knowing her personally, but lady Isan was a fine woman, and we shall miss her terribly."

The corners of Hayreddin's mouth tightened slightly, but he nodded graciously. Revan squeezed his hand.

"Perhaps you'd like to know the events that have occurred in your absence..?"

"Thank you, Memnos. But I am aware of current events, from the new trade deals across the sea to the sightings of the new star."

Memnos bowed. "Ah, of course. As omniscient as ever, sir. Very well then, I shall take my leave."

Despite his words though, Memnos hesitated.

"Is there something else?" asked Hayreddin.

Memnos cleared his throat. "Regarding this new star, well...it is nothing of course, a mere curiosity. But it is quite unusual."

"How so?"

"Well, our star-gazers 'discover' stars as they say. But it is widely accepted knowledge among them that the stars have always been there; it is our ability to perceive them that leads to these so-called 'discoveries'. Even moving stars periodically appear and disappear. They may have a yearly cycle, or even a hundred…"

"And…?" pressed Hayreddin.

"Well, the records of the star-gazers go back as far as a thousand years. From the constant stars and the moving ones, they have recorded every star they could observe. What makes the appearance of this particular star such an interesting event, is that there has been no record of it whatsoever."

"As you say, Memnos. It is a new star, after all."

Memnos shook his head. "To make my meaning clearer sir, is that a star that bright would have been sighted a long time ago. Yet from the star-gazers records, it has not existed until several months ago. That's not all, it's position in the sky has been subtly moving."

Something in Memnos's words sent a prickle of unease down Hayreddin's spine. "What are you saying, Memnos?"

Memnos's stroked his long white beard. "It's as if this star had just arrived. As though it journeyed here."