One day, you idled. You glanced at the spider that lived between the legs of the table. Its egg sac would split wide and spill soon. The quill’s nib left overlapped circles on a scrap. You inked the shapes. You remembered such a sketch from your childhood. The circles were marked deer, squirrels, birds, bees, ants. It was a conjecture of shared space. As a girl, you saw the places where they met. As an adult, you saw the same places as voids. The intersections as keyholes, punctures, gaps.
The incantation, the response of Nature, your crouch into hollow trees. You arrived closer to your destinations than was chronologically or geographically possible. You didn’t claim to understand what occurred, only accepted that it did.
At first, when you reached the dragon’s realm, you thought you had traveled far enough. The location seemed a tremendous distance from the kingdom. Yet in your journey you had used the incantation. You went where you were led. You experienced the gap between the seen and the unseen. Simply because you couldn’t explain it didn’t mean it wasn’t there.
Wyl thought the amulet gave him access to the realm. Protection was what it offered, you realized. Those he met along the roads didn’t lie when he asked for direction. They pointed his way, but no one explained how to get there. He might have wandered for ages or died if you hadn’t brought you both through. His path had converged with yours. You led the rest of the way. Perhaps it was possible to stumble upon a gap. You had doubts by the time you sat in that hut under guard.
By then, you knew you were mapping a lie.
Yes, the sun rose and set in the same locations. The stars changed their predictable places. You had not met an ocean, though the wind carried its salt. You had not crossed a desert, but suspected one was near. Somehow, you had noticed the flyways of migrating birds, left to right of the rising sun.
A literal map would lead to the destination but would not assure entry.
The bobbin and latch clattered. The door opened, its frame full, for an instant, of a shape that had once pleased you. For a moment, you forgot and smiled
at Wyl your lover. Then you re membered Wyl your husband. He had arrived to visit again as you were finishing the task. He caressed his children’s cheeks | they resembled him | and sent them out with the woman.
He told you the settlement had been vacated. The residents were dead or in exile. The King’s men, his men, had taken control.
Well, that they did, because the smithy and its materials revealed their strength. Quantities of iron, tin, and copper were found. A store of metals enough to make swords for an army, although there were no mines nearby, said he.
They don’t make swords. They make cauldrons, you said. | you saw them, those cauldrons |
Then he spoke of expansion, the need for more. The population was growing. There was trouble in the fields in much of the kingdom. Crop failures, fungus. You wondered when those matters had become dire. The information was new to you. You questioned its source and validity.
Is this part of the justification now? you asked.
Would you see our people suffer?
You laughed. I traversed miles of this kingdom and saw pockets of plenty in the midst of want. Year after year, the same. How is now any different? you said.
I’ve been assured it is, said he.
You had not the strength or recent facts to argue.
What’s to come of me, Wyl? I’m rumored a traitor to the kingdom. I have been forced, under intimidation, to create this map. And I know I can no longer be your wife.
He dropped his head. When he looked up, tears glazed his eyes. You realized he hadn’t admitted the truth to himself.
I don’t know what to do. There’s pressure to make a decision soon, said he.
There is talk of execution, isn’t there? you said.
I will not agree to that. You’re the mother of my children, no matter the circumstances.
That leaves imprisonment or exile.
Wyl remained silent.
At least promise you won’t allow Raef to harm the twins. Don’t punish me with them. They are innocent, you said.
He seemed shocked. You knew then he had no idea what threats had been spoken or the depths of his brother’s darkness. You wondered what power was truly his at all.
YOU FINISHED THE MAP. YOU PLACED A LARGE X WHERE ENTRY TO THE realm might be. You drew a swallow in the lower space between the lines. The bird was the second-to-last creature you had seen before you walked through the hollow. This notation was typical for you. The map was populated with animals here and there. It was your signature. You marked all of your maps with the presence of beasts.
The latch moved up. The bobbin came down. She is done, said the woman to the guards. The knock beat against the inside of the door. Yes, that is backward. You remember this strange order.
The guards let the woman out. She had taken the map. Proof. What if you went mad and destroyed it, had to begin again? If allowed to. The swallow was barely dry. You watched the sunlight sear through the doorway and cast a trapezoid of light on the floor.
The woman left the twins behind. They played with wooden blocks. A hard wood that could take the sharp edges of cutting teeth. You said their names. They looked at you. You smiled, and they smiled. Sweet little creatures. You will not leave me. I will leave you. Nature reversed, you thought. You took them suddenly to your breast, sunken and milkless. You held them, that innocence, that helplessness. It was the girl who cried out first to be let go. She sat on the floor with the small of her back against the spread of your leg. The boy pressed his toes into your right thigh. He beat his tiny hand against your chest, ma-ma, ma-ma. You didn’t remember your mother teaching you shapes. Ciaran, he was present for that. You placed the boy facing his twin and held up the blocks, slightly gnawed, and told them, Circle, triangle, square.
Tell the truth.
In the moment, you thought you could love them. If you had more time.
Ciaran came first. That was how you knew the end was near. You sat across from each other at the table. He looked around. He glanced at the barred window. The pallets where you all slept. The chamber pot. The bundle of dirty clothes. On a shelf, long and high, the maps rolled tight. Your ink, quills, compass, straight edges in a box on the table, latched but not locked.
He told you the fighting had spread. In other lands, hidden in plain sight, there were more settlements like the one across the river. The people were often not prepared to defend themselves. It had become senseless, said Ciaran.
This was senseless from the start, you said.
We acted on good account. The decision wasn’t made in haste. We deliberated. We cannot be blamed for unforeseen results, said he.
I told you they were no threat. Why didn’t you believe me?
Your counsel was based primarily on impressions, not facts.
I can say the same of yours as well. But what’s done is done.
Ciaran embraced you with awkward tenderness. He struggled with affection even at that moment.
Keep your courage, my bold sister, said he. Ciaran paused at the open door. Don’t expect to see Father.
You hoped, but without good reason and in spite of all that occurred. You knew your father was ashamed that you had defied the dead King’s authority. He had been proud of you as long as you did your liege’s bidding. He’d approved as you as long as you obeyed and kept quiet. You remembered the way he had looked at you when you stood before the Council and implored caution. It was the slap’s shadow. You tasted blood in your mouth, although he didn’t touch you. As well, you had no doubt what he had advised the King | your husband | to do. Your father didn’t raise a sword, but his actions were in every blow. How you wished to understand the reason for his violence.
Your offense was telling the truth as you saw it.
And you never saw your father again.
Your mother. Your mother a stream, a stream of words, the rocks of why?
The flow. You married a prince. Wealth beyond dreams was yours. The
children. Didn’t you think of the children? I knew no good would come of your running wild in the woods and the studying. Your father wouldn’t listen to me and rein you in. Now look at what you’ve done to me. What do you know of the ways of the world? All you did was draw pictures of land. Your father so disappointed and shamed, before the King, before his fellow noblemen! Had you kept your mouth shut, you would be Queen. Queen!
You stopped hearing words. The sound reminded you of a panicked cow you’d once heard calling for its calf. You had seen the corpse. A wolf likely found it when it strayed. The poor beast didn’t know her baby was dead. As you walked away, you heard the noise rise to a wail, a roar, and howl of madness.
It was done. You didn’t bother to defend yourself. Perhaps you were dead but somehow still breathing. You were a criminal, though you had not defiled, stolen, or murdered a thing. Your mother couldn’t understand the circumstances. You couldn’t believe the quiet in yourself at that moment. You were broken. Untethered. No one wanted you. They wanted a memory of you.
Aoife.
You looked at her.
What will happen to my grandchildren?
I suspect Wyl shall take them.
Silence, beloved silence. Then:
Be grateful they are so young. They will not remember you.
I will remember you, Mother.
The words slipped out, off your tongue, a ripple.
She began to cry. You were numb. She went to you and put your head to her chest. You didn’t resist. There had been times the gesture had brought you comfort. Not that day.
You were in the hut but saw a different wall. A stone wall. You heard the sound of Ciaran being beaten on the other side. The rage. Don’t you ever make your mother cry. You screamed against your mother’s hand. Leave him alone. Leave him alone. As if somehow that memory explained this moment.
Then spring, on her lap. The flower chain you made around her neck. Her soft fingers on your cheek. She’s laughing. You’re laughing.
That was the last thought in your head as she pressed her hand to your crown and said, My daughter. Then she left. No sunlight through the doorway. Darkness had come.
THE DAY OF YOUR EXILE, YOU STOOD ACROSS FROM WYL.
Your hands were tied behind your back. The moment hardly seemed real. Within two turns through all seasons, you had crossed a river, met a reclusive people, learned of a dragon, journeyed far away, found its hoard, sated desire, married, birthed twins, warned the people of danger, and brought disaster.
Yes. This can be reduced to its parts. The whole somehow included standing bound in front of your husband. You were no traitor in word or deed unless you betrayed that which was unspoken. You wanted to hate Wyl but you couldn’t. He was still the goodnatured boy you knew whose center had been twisted.
A bell. Yes, there was a bell on the table that he shook and it sang. The twins, a year old, walked in, almost on their own. Their nursemaid led them in as they wobbled. The girl looked up and noticed you. A squeal, a bleat, then she walked on unsteady feet. The boy followed. Your body urged to reach out for them and seized at your back. They pulled on your skirt and teetered as if a-sail.
Wyl picked them up and held them before you. You kissed each of them on the forehead and cheeks. You said nothing, not even their names. Your tongue filled your mouth with a carrion weight. Then their faces were a blur. The nursemaid took them from their father. A rhythm of familiarity between them. This exchange had been done before. You turned to watch them leave. Was it the girl or the boy? Ah, a lapse here. Which one of them raised its hand above the nursemaid’s head and said bye-bye?
You were alone with him.
When we leave this room, before witnesses I will read a decree that you are to be exiled, said he.
Why?
You betrayed the kingdom.
Some may think so, but I didn’t betray myself.
He bowed his head.
How could you, Aoife, when I gave you all I could, including my heart? said he. Without anger. In tears.
You were too stunned to reply. Wyl clutched your waist. He kissed you on the mouth. A cool press, as if you were a corpse. A part of you revived and returned the kiss with a passion that vanished as fast as it came. | you had warned him, with blood on your hands |
The decree was announced. You were on your knees with two guards at your side. It was a public spectacle. You remember much shouting. The rope came loose from your wrists. You were wrestled upright on a horse. No part of you was left untouched. Push shove grab. The manhandling was worse than when you were kidnapped and brought to the house. Then, a gag in your mouth. Your hands were bound in front. You held the reins.
Later, one of the two guards said you would be taken to the border and released. Which border? Land, river, or sea? You thought of Burl and his safety. You suspected something was wrong.
The armed guard escort was for your family’s sake, perhaps Wyl’s. They saw you leave alive. Strange courtesies are done at times.
You knew neither of these men. Young. Proud in their saddles. Their weapons’ sheaths jaunty and bright. They were under orders. Under orders. You pondered the thought. Can one suffocate that way, as if under covers? You giggled. It was involuntary. A trickle of madness. The ice beginning to crack. One looked back at you. You felt your horse quiver and buck. Flies. It didn’t like flies at all. So you three rode along. One decided to tie a rope around your neck as you went to relieve yourself. Better than being watched.
Then it was night. There was no nobleman’s home waiting for your arrival. You would sleep outdoors. You had done so before countless times but had never felt so unsafe. You thought of all the men who had been on your crew. Decent and respectful to you, at least in your presence. One of the guards produced metal shackles and tied you by one leg to a tree. They ate.
There was a jug of ale, strong by the smell of it. One and the other one, you called them. The one eased into his drink. Neither was drunk. There wasn’t enough between them for that.
The one moved his hand across your head after he handed you dinner. Cheese, bread, tough dried meat. You willed yourself not to react. His intent was to disturb. You kept your eyes down but your ears up. It grew dark. You didn’t wish to sleep. The moon was split in half and leached light through the treetops. You drifted off somehow.
You felt the sensation of a finger easing a wisp of hair behind your ear. You weren’t awake. You were caught in a past life. | violence can be tender | You almost said Wyl’s name. You opened your eyes and gasped. The one crouched near you like an animal. You thought him beastly, but his human agency made him more dangerous. You sat up. He said nothing. He moved his eyes from yours to your leg, exposed to the thigh. | where your son and daughter had stood | You were an exotic creature leashed in the darkness.
Again, with your body in one time and place, your mind leapt to another. You, six, Ciaran, thirteen, at the close of a spring festival. Chained at the neck in a cage that gave no room for movement, a golden beast with a nimbus of silken fur. A creature with dark moons under its eyes as if it cried itself to sleep every night. Ciaran held your hand. This is the grandfather of cats. He’s called a lion. You wept and pled for its release.
Where would it go? asked Ciaran. It doesn’t belong here.
Your mind returned to your body. You watched the one stare at your thigh. He knelt. His fingers touched the ground. You knew then there are fates worse than death. He placed his hand on your leg. Suddenly you could speak.
Why?
Because I can, said he. He pushed you down at the chest.
The tethered leg pulled taut at the rope. No farther could you go. You tried to kick with the other, but he pressed his shin to hold it still. He held a dagger above your left breast. The glint numbed you. His other hand fumbled below his waist, then touched the flesh where your thighs met. His fingers rushed full entry into the hidden space between your legs. You screamed and struggled and hoped to die first.
Then his weight was gon
e. He was on his feet. A man next to him. The other one. There was an argument you understood by tone and feeling, not in the words. A jostle back and forth. Then you heard, No matter. We have our orders, the one said. The other one didn’t move. He didn’t speak to you, but he looked in your direction.
You awoke the next morning with a scab on your finger. You weren’t certain but you thought you might have cut it on the small dagger that had been pointed at you. There it was in the dirt in the place where the one had been. You accepted the danger. You put it in a pocket of your skirt. Your arm felt sticky. There was more blood. The one had cut you. Nicked your breast and gashed your left upper arm. You ripped off a sleeve to bind the wound. No pain. You were too shocked.
You asked the other one to let you be untied as you mounted the horse. He complied. But he tied your hands once you were astride. You rode. You were the blade in the pocket. You became the blade. You drank little, although you were thirsty. Fewer reasons to get off the horse.
The third day and third night. The one was off behind a tree. The other one near you. You returned with the rope around your neck. You lifted your hands for him to bind. Odd what the body’s will does on its own when it becomes used to bondage. He removed the loop at your throat.
He looked directly into your eyes and whispered, Run.
THE GLADE YOU FOUND FELT TOO OPEN. YOU WALKED THE MARGIN UNTIL you heard a trickle. A stream. You knelt and drank and drank. You cried for every reason why, then stood up. No one knew where you were or if you were dead or alive. You thought you must go to the Guardians’ settlement. You also had to eat. You still had the dagger. No rope for a snare, though. Perhaps some wild fruit. | summer, your twenty-fifth year, a third of your life | You found an unlikely row of peach trees, which led to a hut with one blue shutter.
You had nothing. No coins, no jewels, nothing of value. You didn’t wish to steal, but you were so hungry. You smelled food. Inside, a pot was over a fire. The beans were nearly cooked, good enough. Only morsels, enough until you had the strength to hunt.
The Mapmaker's War Page 9
