The Interpreter said the girl’s tale was accurate. One so young couldn’t convey the subtleties, however. That required a deeper mind. She spoke to the family, who then nodded in response. They took your hands and kissed your cheeks. The older child, who didn’t resemble his parents at all, and the little girl were led to bed.
So you settled on cushions near the young woman with violet eyes. The Interpreter, a Voice. You were brought your children, who suckled, then slept. She told you the myths of how the world and its witnesses came into being. Egnis the Red Dragon. Ingot the Gold Dwarf. Incant the White Wisp. Azul the Orphan, whom they’d saved.
It’s quite simple, Aoife, said the Voice. The Three cared for Azul, our people came from Azul, and now we care for them. We are linked to Egnis, she who first saw the world. We protect her from forces that wish to rob, exploit, or destroy. The hoard you saw? That’s a store of gifts made by the hands of many generations meant for renewal but not for use. Despite its appearance, that’s not the treasure she holds and we, the Guardians, attend.
She told you the Voices are mysteries, a gift from Egnis as much as Azul. Her people believed that they tapped into the well of All That Is. As if Nature willed it, they seemed to be born when they were needed. They could speak any language of human tongues. All had highly sensitive feelings. Each had a gift for healing, some stronger than others. Nearly all of them were girls. A rare boy might be born a Voice, but his gifts were weak in comparison.
She expressed concern for the ones born away to families without knowledge of their Guardian blood. Now and then their young people moved to seek different lives in the world. Usually they returned, but sometimes they didn’t. Within a few generations, the descendants of those who had left had no knowledge of their origins. Voices born in these circumstances would have no one to guide them. The children would be thought incorrigible and strange at best, deranged, perhaps evil, at worst. Patience and careful training was in order. That was why an adult Voice helped a family with their remarkable child. The Interpreter understood what the girl would endure.
Part of you felt you were in the midst of madness. Part of you knew better.
You went to bed. The twins slept all night next to you. For a moment when you awoke, you were confused about where you were. That was the first night in many you’d slept well, deeply.
You decided to leave early. You nursed the children and ate a breakfast of porridge, nuts, and fruit. Someone prepared a package of food for you. She or he couldn’t have known the meal was what you had prepared for your childhood expeditions. Hard cheese, soft bread.
The Interpreter, rather the Voice, arrived to send you off. She kissed the twins cozy in the pouches. You took a drink from the well. The great Wheels, unwound, were silent. You wished you could hear the music.
The breeze changed. You heard human voices blended together. You walked to find the sound. The Voice followed. What is that?
You saw a little house surrounded by people of all ages, men and women, children, a circle of them, all singing. The door was closed but the windows were not shuttered. Beautiful enchanted sound.
What is happening? you asked.
A child is to be born. This is a song of welcome.
You burst into tears. A rupture of awe, the beauty too much to hold in your body. The Voice gently touched your shoulder. You stopped crying as quickly as you had started. You asked how to return to the river.
She told your guardian to lead you a different way. At the large rock in the forest, he touched the groove. He turned in a direction perpendicular to the path that led to the river. You came upon a hut built within a small glade. The door had a blue circle painted on its surface. An old woman greeted you at the threshold. The young man spoke to her. She beckoned you inside.
She took a poker and tapped a stone that lay beyond the hearth’s fire. A chiseled design on the stone was the same as on the Voice’s amulet and on the one given to you. Circle, triangle, square.
Safe, said she. She struck the symbol and pointed at herself.
Many, said she. She lifted the poker and swept an arc in front of her, back and forth. She looked beyond the curve.
Follow, said she. She placed the poker’s tip at one angle of the carved triangle. From that point, she scratched a line into the dirt floor. On the ground she drew the symbol enclosed in the shape of a hut. She stabbed the drawn triangle and scraped a thick line through one of its angles.
You pondered her simple words and gestures. You thought of kind old women you’d found all alone, deep in the woods. Not all were like she. Some were. Certainly those who wore that color blue.
Thank you, you said. On impulse, you took the woman’s hands and kissed her cheek. You sensed what you had learned was more valuable than gold.
Burl was at the bank when you arrived. His trustworthiness had been tested again. He rowed you back to the kingdom’s shore. You told him of your meeting with the elders, the evening meal, and the coming child’s welcome song. He looked at you with wonderment. As you disembarked, Burl said he’d been questioned the night before by men representing the King. He had returned home after he’d left you, to avoid suspicion. He claimed not to have seen you.
In fact, you’d given little mind to what awaited you when you reached the castle. You thought to linger in the forest by the bank to decide what to say. Instead, you used the incantation again and crossed the miles as if they were feet. You claimed your horse from the old woman. | her hearth bore the symbol | You made your return home. Such a long distance in so brief a time. Once everyone learned where you had gone, you imagined some would wonder how you managed a journey with no sleep.
NO POINT TO LIE. NO POINT TO SAY YOU’D BEEN LOST. WHO WOULD BElieve it? You had mapped the lands yourself. You admitted what you’d done, certain in the rightness of your effort. The settlement now knew the threat that loomed.
The parade of the aghast began.
First, Wyl. He was furious but more so relieved. He appeared to care less about what you had done than about the fact that you’d taken the twins. He grabbed the children from you with his own hands and marched to his chamber.
They are mine, you know. My issue—and my heir! said he.
Next, your mother, livid. What possessed you? You had us worried sick! Your place is here with these children. What business is this of yours? No, your father didn’t listen to me all those years ago. Let you do as you pleased. And this is the result!
Then Ciaran. He controlled his anger. He admonished you for your disregard for protocol. In the years that had passed, he had garnered respect and power among the nobles. He was a fair man who honored the rules. He was also your brother, and that was why his ire was tempered by curiosity. He knew you wouldn’t do such a thing unless there was a good reason. No, no one would call you impulsive except for Wyl, for certain reasons.
You told your older brother how lovely it was in the settlement. The people were kind and gracious. You couldn’t explain why you felt so peaceful there, but you did. Some of the people you spoke to claimed they did protect a dragon and its hoard. You had seen the latter for yourself. It was unimaginable but real nonetheless.
Then. Yes. You realized Raef ‘s deepest motive.
The settlement and its perceived threat were one matter. The possible entry to the realm of the hoard was another. Raef believed Wyl and you had seen this great treasure store. You felt a sinister chill through your body, as if you’d learned of a murderous plan.
You looked your brother in the eye.
Raef and his loyal brutes will try to find it. It’s meant to be known, but also meant to be hidden, you said.
Do you believe the beast exists? asked Ciaran.
Yes. I do now, you said.
He was quiet. Ciaran’s skepticism was reasonable and expected. He liked tallies and tangible proof. You assured him that you had seen a place of astounding beauty. You saw what couldn’t be explained. What you saw defied sense, no matter the tales you and he had heard
as children.
Wyl now claims to have seen the dragon, said your brother.
I cannot confirm or refute that, you said.
In the coming days, that’s not the main concern. There are real and present issues to address, said Ciaran.
He looked old beyond his years in that moment.
Your father never made an appearance. You saw him in passing
but he made no acknowledgment that he had seen you. You shared a bond of shame. His of you and the trouble you caused him. Yours of yourself, for no clear reason why.
WYL CAME TO YOUR BED THE NIGHT OF YOUR RETURN. WHAT OTHER appeasement could you have given him then? You passed several nights like that. A time of suspense. There were meetings, many meetings. Some to which you were invited. The rest into which you stormed.
Why are you here again?
Yes, yes, we’ve heard this before.
Can you not control your own daughter?
We have a matter of security. This is not your place.
Drivel. Insanity. Raef at the center of it.
No one listened to you when you said the hoard was not a war chest. Your thoughts and opinions were ignored. They had no sway, although you believed words had power. You wondered, if there were no words, could battle be? How would one plan a siege or strategy without them? What kind of war could happen in the midst of silence?
The King fell ill, then dead.
Who knows the cause? Who knows the truth? Such things have happened to other sons and fathers.
The Queen, in grief, watched her favorite son crowned as King. Your husband.
Unlike his dispassionate father, Wyl was more easily persuaded. Council advisers warned against waiting. Raef remind him of the wealth and weapons they had both seen. You tried to argue with Wyl. You tried to find allies. Desperate, you turned to the widowed queen with hopes she could still reach the gentle side of her son.
No use. The Queen had made up her mind.
Think of the children, said the Queen.
Whose children? you asked.
The kingdom’s children. It is our duty to protect them.
They’re in no danger, Your Majesty.
Then why would my sons lie?
Intractable. Hopeless. You and Wyl had seen the dragon’s lair. Both claimed to see different sights of the same thing. You and Raef had been to the settlement. Again, one place, two witnesses.
As a mother, who would you choose to believe? Who would you choose to protect?
Yet there again was the horrible flaw. You, too, were a mother, yet you were unsure whether you could have such a blind allegiance to a child. Would you know if your child lied? Not the tiny lies. I finished my peas. I didn’t break the cup. The bigger lies, even the ones unspoken, the lies they might tell to themselves. But this matter of Raef and Wyl was one most mothers would never confront, wasn’t it?
THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. FOR EFFECT, OF COURSE. THERE WERE MANY ways to do what was to be done. But Raef was unsettled. You were still uncertain whether Wyl knew the entire plan.
Two men dragged you through the castle. A guard was next to you during a ride in a cart. For all you know, they rode you around the castle several times, then went to a nearby house. You were locked inside.
They did let you keep the children. They were not yet weaned. A woman you didn’t know was sent to tend to their care and to some extent your own. She cleaned the chamber pots. She bathed the twins. There were bars on the windows. A tremendous bobbin and latch on the door. The noise of its mechanism like a giant footstep.
Raef arrived the next morning. He ordered you to make a map to the hoard.
What if I refuse?
I’ll kill one of them. The girl.
Of course, you thought. Never mind the child was his niece. Raef ‘s own blood through his brother. He thought he played upon your mother horror. At the moment, perhaps he did. You felt your body move without thoughtful volition. Your back to the twins. Your body between them and Raef.
How will you know I’ve given you an accurate map? you asked.
I have my ways, said he.
Do you?
I know you take pride in your work’s precision. You wouldn’t risk your reputation.
I’m glad to know of my esteem.
Raef glared at you.
Remember as well that my brother traveled the route. He will see the chart when it’s complete and decide what to do with you, said he.
Of course, you could have refused to make the map. Had you been merely asked, you would have declined. Now you were trapped. To refuse meant imprisonment or death. Within, the answer emerged. You chose the unknown without knowing why.
Make a list of what you require for this task, said Raef.
You asked for your drawing tools. You also requested maps of the whole known world. The works of charlatans and fools, the works of genius. Some you knew were no more than conjecture. None you had drawn yourself.
You required translated tomes on great travels from the castle library. The authors needed to be ones with keen eyes who described creatures and plants. Also, you needed illustrated references on birds and beasts, flowers and trees. The natural world was one, but all was not the same.
As you studied and compared, you thought of the old mapmaker. One of your first tests had been the most important.
Take these maps and merge them into one, Heydar had said.
You glanced at them, unsure where to begin.
Adept, what point do they share in common? you asked.
He pressed his fingertip to a mark on each chart.
And, Adept, what is the orientation? What is the scale? Shall I draw distance only? Must I account for the world’s curve?
These considerations you had learned before your place in the apprentice’s seat was held by hope. You were grateful to Ciaran, who had slipped materials from the castle’s archive for you to study.
I throw out most of my pupils straightaway. They don’t understand the basic concepts. This is not simple geometry! said he.
No, Adept, it’s not, you said.
Work, Apprentice. Let me see what you can do.
He smiled, a feral yet friendly one.
Now, as a prisoner, you reviewed the old maps. You considered that some boundaries had changed. With time, land altered. Nature moved rivers and shores. Man cleared new paths and built places to live. You had to approximate. It was the best you could do with knowledge of geography, flora, and fauna.
You thought of the expectations. They would want the towns and villages where they could rest, eat, and make merry along the way. They would need that which didn’t move easily. Hills, mountains, lakes. You knew you would give what they wanted and what they couldn’t see.
The drafting began.
During this time, the twins weaned themselves. You had been feeding them the milk of fear. It could not have been nourishing. You were replaced by a goat and soft foods. They liked the textures. They grew as all babies did. The girl had her likes. The boy had his. They were very much their own little beings.
Wyl went to you. He couldn’t stay away because, you believed, he didn’t honestly think what you had done was wrong. But it was all too late. He informed you that the confrontation had begun. Confrontation. The word was meant to tame the truth. You shook your head. You hoped the Guardians had considered your words earnest.
This is for our own good, said he.
Is it, Wyl?
The woman suddenly entered after an outing with the twins. One in each arm. When they saw Wyl, their arms flung out. They smiled. They knew their father. He greeted them. The woman put them on the floor. They pulled themselves up and hung on his legs. The boy bounced at his knees. The girl patted his thigh. Their open affection surprised you. The woman left with clothing to wash.
You continued.
There are fathers who will never do again what you’re doing right now. Men who will never return home. Why?
Your place is not to question, said he.
Then what is it?
Swords have been brought back from the battle. I’ve seen them. They resemble what was in the hoard. This is right action, said he.
He kissed his children. You could tell in his eyes he wanted to touch you. He didn’t. He kept his arms at his side. It was a complicated moment. You never thought Wyl was capable of what he had helped to set in motion. What he, as King, had ordered.
Raef came in to see your progress. His presence was intended to frighten you. To some degree, it did. He seemed volatile and moody. Unstable. His eyes were blank and glistening. You wondered if he would slit your throat right in front of the children. But he did not. He looked at what you had done since his last visit. He said nothing of what would come of you after you were finished. You didn’t ask. He patted the twins on the head like dogs, then left.
You feared for your life. However, in your most secret moments in the darkness of night, you didn’t fear death. Perhaps it would be preferable to what you imagined. Confinement of many forms.
You pondered escape. Who wouldn’t? There was no way to dig under the foundation of the walls. There was no way to take the bars from the windows. You couldn’t stack furniture to climb through the roof. Even if you could have, the house was tended by two guards at all hours. You knew they both stood at the door when the woman went in and out. Prisoners are safe on the inside. One doesn’t know the lay of the land outside. You thought perhaps of running through the door, knocking down the woman, the babies. The surprise might be enough to startle the guards so that you may run. You thought it might be worth the risk of death.
There were the twins to consider, and not consider. Your primal tenderness made you protective of them. You didn’t want to see them in harm’s way. The desire you had for the life you’d had before didn’t let you ponder taking them with you. Wyl and tradition would never allow it anyway. They were his. His son, the prince, would be King.
You had no idea what awaited you once the map was complete. Wyl had defied custom to marry you. There was no way he could be so outrageous again. You expected death and hoped for exile.
The Mapmaker's War Page 8
