The Edge of the World by Kevin J. Anderson Page A

foreign to her servants. “We
will
take him. So many are being left behind, we can at least rescue this one.”
    “But, my lady,” said one of her handmaidens, “if you save this one, you must save all of them, and you cannot.”
    “So I should just give up on everyone?” Asha straightened on her unsteady seat. “Urec would never forgive me for that—and
     you should pray for days to cleanse your mind of what you have just suggested!”
    “I will pray that others will help them.”
    “He will likely die, Lady Asha,” one of the guards warned. “He is badly burned, and these waters will have poisoned him.”
    Stubborn, she commanded the boatman to nudge the limp figure with his pole so that Asha’s servants could reach him. Guards
     hauled the burned man over the gunwale, and Asha snapped imperiously to her horrified handmaidens, “Help them—we don’t have
     much time!”
    With clear distaste on their faces, the women clutched at the muddy black tatters that clothed the man’s body. He groaned
     as they pulled him aboard, but he was deeply—and mercifully—unconscious. He retched, having nearly drowned in the shallow
     water. His skin was raw, red and black, but he breathed.
    Asha thought of all the pets she had saved in the past, the animals she’d rescued—birds with broken wings, dogs with splinters
     in their paws, scrawny cats that had been tormented by evil boys—all of them lost causes, and yet she had healed them. “We
will
take him to the ship. We
will
tend him. I have doctors to heal his injuries.”
    “My lady, your physicians know how to care for animals. This man.—”
    “This man will survive,” Asha stated bluntly.
    Though the fire raged through the streets and the great church burned, she fixed her attention on this poor human being who
     needed her help. She could save this one man. It wasn’t much, but it was a symbol of hope. Even if he healed, the pain would
     be terrible, the damage great, the probability of infection certain.
    Nevertheless…
    Picking up speed as it entered the wider canals, her boat finally reached the harbor, a scene of further chaos as every ship
     tried to depart at once, wide cargo barges, narrow galleys, fishing boats, small one-person pleasure craft. The soldan-shah
     had his own dromond loaded with soldiers and salvaged possessions.
    Imir had arranged for Asha’s ship to be waiting and ready for her at the dock, and she stepped onto the pier, rocking the
     shallow-draft boat. “Carry the pets’ cages! Watch that the cat doesn’t escape. He’s the only one we rescued.” She looked anxiously
     up the streets, searching for the carts loaded with her other pets. They should be arriving soon.
    While her handmaidens and guards rushed to follow her instructions, Asha devoted her attentions to the poor burned man. She
     needed to get him aboard, bathe him in cool water, and use whatever salves her physicians had. Looking down at his grimace,
     his shut eyes, she could tell very little about the man, whether his burned clothes had been the rags of a beggar or the vestments
     of a rich merchant. Thanks to the soot and dirt, she couldn’t even tell the true color of his skin or hair.
    Aboard Asha’s ship, her handmaidens gathered cushions in a pile so extravagant that even a dying man would have found them
     comfortable. They laid him out, careful of his wounds.
    She leaned over the man and whispered, “You’ll be all right. I will take care of you.” She began to sing one of her favorite
     songs, soothing him with a ballad of Urec as her boat sailed away from the fires of Ishalem.

13
Ishalem, Aidenist District
    Across the Aidenist section of the city, Urecari raiders raced at a gallop as they cast their torches at buildings, but the
     fire was a living being now and needed no help. Instead of fighting the conflagration, Korastine’s soldiers struck down the
     Urecari attackers with spears, clubs, and arrows, killing hundreds.
    The main Aidenist kirk