The Girl of Ink & Stars

by Kiran Millwood Hargrave

  I shifted uncomfortably. It was true that I was nicer to Cata than anyone else, but she was very quiet and mostly people ignored her. ‘I’m sorry,’ I began, ‘I haven’t—’

  ‘I’ve looked everywhere. She wasn’t there when I woke up, I—’ The woman broke off, breathing hard. Her hand fluttered to her chest, as if she could not fill her lungs.

  ‘You! What are you doing here?’

  Cata’s mother jumped. One of the Governor’s men was striding towards us, the crowd parting like wheat before his blue tunic.

  ‘If you see her, send her home,’ the woman said to me hurriedly, face twisted with worry. And then she was gone, running in the direction of the Governor’s estate.

  ‘What a mess,’ tutted the stall keeper, starting to pick up the vegetables. ‘No, don’t help. You’ve caused enough trouble already.’

  Dazed, I walked to the corner of the market square where Lupe and I always met. Something in the woman’s face had shaken me, right to the bones. I hoped Cata was all right.

  ‘Isa!’

  I spun around as Lupe came running across the square, satchel flying. The other villagers shrank back from her. The Governor’s daughter did not have many friends. Not that Lupe cared.

  ‘I don’t give a fig,’ she’d said to one of the girls teasing her about the fussy plaits her mother insisted on. ‘Isabella likes them, and that’s enough for me.’

  We made an odd set, Lupe and I: she as tall as a near-grown boy, and I barely reaching her shoulder. She seemed to have got even taller in the month since I had last seen her. Her mother would not be pleased. Señora Adori was a petite, elegant woman with sad eyes and a cold smile. Lupe said she never laughed and believed girls should not run, nor have any right to be as tall as Lupe was getting.

  She squeezed me tightly and then drew back, eyeing me up and down.

  ‘Still so short!’ she said enviously, then frowned. ‘What’s wrong? You’ve gone all pale. Did your da not let you out in the sun this summer? Mama does that, but sometimes I sneak out—’

  ‘Cata’s missing.’ I pushed the words out. ‘I just saw her mother.’

  ‘Cata?’

  I rolled my eyes impatiently. ‘The girl who sits at the back.’

  Lupe shifted from one foot to the other. She had that look on her face, like Pep sauntering away from a broken dish.

  I stared at her. ‘What?’

  ‘What, what?’ said Lupe, pulling her satchel higher on to her shoulder.

  ‘You know something.’ I stepped forward.

  ‘No, I don’t.’ She stepped back.

  I raised my eyebrow the way Da had taught me.

  Lupe wilted. ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. It’s just, she was working in the kitchen this summer, and I asked her to go to the orchard for me yesterday, to get some—’

  ‘The orchard!’ The sick feeling in my stomach was back. ‘Lupe, you know we’re not allowed.’

  ‘Yes, of course I know, but I hadn’t had dragon fruit in ages. I needed to have them on my birthday, didn’t I?’

  I had never had dragon fruit and was not even sure what they looked like, but I did know they were Lupe’s favourite, grown in the Governor’s orchard at the edge of the forest. Out of bounds to everyone except his guards and a few of his servants.

  ‘Lupe, you know that if Cata got caught, she’s probably in the Dédalo right now.’

  Lupe waved her hand dismissively. ‘Still on about that place? I’ve never seen it, and I live there.’

  It was typical that Lupe should not notice something right under her nose. And the Dédalo – the labyrinth – was right under her nose, because Governor Adori had built his house directly over the natural tunnels that were now his prison. Masha’s husband had served a decade there before he died.

  Lupe flung her arm around my shoulders. ‘Come on, grumpy guts. Cata will be fine!’ She began to propel me along the narrow street towards the fields. ‘She’ll already be in class, probably stuffing her face with my dragon fruit. I’ll let you have some, they’re so delicious. And don’t forget the fireworks tonight!’

  Lupe hated the dark, but she loved fireworks. They were extraordinary, with their beautiful colours and falling-star-shine, but they scared Pep too much for me to like them.

  ‘Papa’s let me pick the colours. There’re gold ones, a blue one, two red ones . . .’

  I let Lupe’s voice wash over me as we took our shortcut across the fields. She was probably right. Even if Cata had been caught, surely the Governor’s men wouldn’t have thrown a girl into the Dédalo just for stealing fruit? I promised myself I’d be extra nice to Cata at school, maybe even invite her to watch Lupe’s birthday fireworks from my garden. ‘Oh, and you haven’t seen this,’ said Lupe, stopping suddenly and jerking me to a halt.

  ‘What?’

  Lupe untucked a thick gold chain from her dress and held it out on her palm. A gold locket glinted in the sunlight, engraved with a shape I recognized.

  ‘That’s Afrik, where Papa is from,’ said Lupe. ‘He gave it to me for my birthday. It was my grandmother’s.’

  ‘What’s inside?’

  Lupe shrugged. ‘Da says I’m not allowed to open it until I’m older. He’s the only one with the key.’

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘It’s heavy,’ said Lupe. ‘But I like it. It was all I got, though.’

  She looked at me expectantly. I tried to pretend I didn’t know what she was waiting for, but she was grinning so stupidly I couldn’t keep it up. I took out a scroll from my satchel.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ I said, grinning too.

  ‘A map! Marked with an X!’

  It was a very simple map, with no star lines and a compass that was only an arrow with an N on the end. I hadn’t had time to make it a proper hunt with lots of clues.

  ‘Treasure.’ I squeezed Lupe’s fingers.

  ‘No point just standing there,’ Lupe shouted, bounding ahead. ‘Race you!’

  With her long legs Lupe should have been the favourite, but she was as uncoordinated as a one-legged rabbit and so we ran together. My lungs filled as I ran across the dry field, bag slapping my side.

  Cata will be at school, Lupe will get her dragon fruit, and everything will be all right.

  At last Lupe reached the X, the abandoned rabbit warren where Pablo had hidden the present for me. Inside sat a small twist of blue paper. She unwrapped the simple plaited bracelet, made with leftover thread I had begged from Masha. Woven in amongst the multi-coloured strands was a single thread of gold I had stolen from Da’s study. He never made special maps any more, so I didn’t think he would notice.

  ‘I love it!’ Lupe wound it around her wrist and I tied the knot. ‘It’s my favourite present.’

  Only Lupe would prefer a scrappy piece of string to a pure gold locket. It was another thing I liked about her.

  ‘Come on,’ I said, taking her sweaty palm and pulling her towards the low rectangle of school. Being late for the first day might be all right for Lupe Adori, but Señora Feliz would not forgive plain old Isabella Riosse so easily.

  We broke into another run, hoping not to hear the bell, and arrived in a dead heat, panting and laughing, stitches needling our sides.

  ‘I… won!’ Lupe gasped.

  ‘No… me! I… beat… you.’

  ‘Girls!’ Señora Feliz appeared at the school door, her face sour as a lemon. When she recognized Lupe, her face went as sour as two lemons. ‘Señorita Adori! You should have been told, I sent someone straight to your father—’

  ‘What?’ Lupe frowned. ‘Why?’

  ‘There’s been a— Well, your father will tell you, I’m sure. School is closed today.’

  ‘Closed?’ I said, stupidly. ‘But why?’

  ‘Enough questions!’ snapped the teacher, then her face drained as her eyes fixed on something behind us.

  We turned to see a carriage drawn by a pair of dun stallions picking its way slowly across the pitted path from the village. The
horses seemed restless, sidestepping and shaking back their manes. Two men sat beside the driver, the sun glinting off their swords.

  The carriage’s blue curtains were drawn, protecting its passengers from the heat. But even at this distance, I could make out the broad Governor and his tiny wife, silhouetted through the silk.

  CHAPTER

  THREE

  The carriage stopped outside the school. The driver jumped down to open the door as Governor Adori swept aside the curtains and stepped down into the dust. I shrank back, standing in Lupe’s shadow. This close he was shorter than I expected, but wide-shouldered, his chest round as a barrel.

  I had never met him before, seen him only on his horse in the annual parade, where the whole village was made to come out and cheer. The Governor’s men even handed out blue banners to wave, and fined people if they got the cloth dirty. I wondered if he knew Lupe was friends with the cartographer’s daughter.

  ‘Come now,’ he said to Lupe.

  She looked uncertainly at me. I released her hand.

  ‘Papa, what’s—’

  ‘No questions. Get inside.’

  ‘Can Isabella come?’

  I ducked my head as he peered past her. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We’re going home.’

  ‘Can we drop her at the village then?’ said Lupe uncertainly. I knew she was not allowed to invite people over.

  The Governor clicked his tongue, then snapped his fingers in my direction. ‘Hurry up.’

  Señora Feliz tripped alongside us. ‘Sorry, Governor Adori. I did send someone ahead, but the girls had cut across the fields—’

  The teacher fell silent as the Governor held his hand up impatiently. He motioned for us to get into the carriage.

  My legs shook as I climbed up into the soft interior and sat opposite Señora Adori. She shifted her skirts away from my dusty sandals. Her lips were pursed and she was even paler than usual, her blue silk fan flicking impatiently around her face. Da said she came from Europa, and she certainly dressed as if she did. Despite the heat she was wearing a full-skirted blue silk dress, and a bead of sweat was snaking its way down her cheek. She did not move to wipe it away.

  We set off. It was my first time in a carriage but it was hard to feel excited. Why was school closed? And why had the Governor come to pick Lupe up? He never had before.

  I chanced a look at him. He was imposing in the cramped space of the carriage, his skin darker than Lupe’s, dark as Da’s. His eyes were narrow, pupils black and slatted as a snake’s, and just as cold. As I watched, a yellow dragonfly flickered briefly at his temple and he caught it mid-flight, crushing it between two fingers and dropping it to the carpeted floor. I shuddered.

  Why had he come here? Why did he treat Joya as if it belonged to him, and not to the people who had lived here for centuries? Because of him, I had never seen the rest of our island, let alone the world, and Da’s skills as a map-maker were wasted. Because of him, there were no more songbirds. Masha said he was even to blame for the river drying up, but Da said she was just being superstitious.

  It was stuffy and hot. The velvet of the seats stuck to my legs and I longed to throw back the curtain and see what was happening outside, but I kept my eyes fixed on a ring of keys glinting from his belt. Lupe seemed uncomfortable too.

  ‘What’s going on, Papa?’

  The Governor’s hand clenched and unclenched. ‘Mama will explain when we get home.’ His eyes flicked again to me.

  ‘Is it something bad?’

  He gave a hollow laugh, like a low, tuneless bell. Fear spiked through me. Why could he not explain now?

  No one spoke again until the Governor barked out, ‘Stop!’ and the horses were pulled to a halt. The carriage rocked as the driver jumped down and opened the door. I drew back the curtain, and my skin chilled.

  We were back in the market square, but it was deserted. All the stalls were closed and empty, apart from the feathery mass of ravens fighting over scraps. I didn’t understand. This was usually the busiest time of day, when the villagers did their shopping before the worst of the heat swept Gromera’s streets.

  Governor Adori’s voice was low and grim.

  ‘Go home, girl. We can’t take you further.’

  ‘I’ll see you at school tomorrow?’ Lupe said as I went to open the door, a question in her voice.

  ‘No school,’ barked the Governor. ‘Not for a few days at least.’

  A drumbeat started in my chest. I wanted to ask what was happening, but my throat felt packed with sand. The Governor’s wife again moved her skirts away from my feet. I took care to scuff my sandal on her silk shoe as I climbed down.

  The Governor moved to pull the door closed but Lupe sprawled out and hugged me hard.

  ‘I will try to find out what’s happening,’ she whispered into my neck. ‘Meet me by the barrel tomorrow? At dusk? And don’t forget the fireworks!’

  I nodded as the horses were whipped into a trot, and she was dropped back into shade behind the curtain.

  When I reached our house, I could barely breathe. The door was wide open, and the flowerpot by the door was tipped over, spilling earth and daisies. That stopped me short. The panic that had driven me up the hill was now holding me back.

  ‘Da?’

  Nothing.

  I stepped forward.

  ‘Da!’

  The sunlight sent patterns whirling across my eyes in the gloom. I blinked them to a stop.

  Da was not in the main room. It was the same as when I had left, the bowl of burnt porridge uneaten on its bed of maps. The walls swayed lightly – because of the maps or my spinning head I did not know. Only the forest-green jug had been moved back on to its shelf.

  A rustle came from Da’s study and relief filled me like air. That was typical of Da, too busy with work to hear me. He probably wouldn’t even know what was going on outside. I crossed to the thick curtain and pulled it aside.

  ‘Da—’

  The shutters were open, letting through a breeze that lightly lifted the papers covering his desk. This must have been what I heard, because his stool was empty. Staining the parchment on the desk was something shiny.

  Unable to stop myself, I reached out to touch it.

  It was wet. My fingers were red.

  I felt the room spooling away, my mind filling with dark.

  Each of us carries the map of our lives on our skin . . .

  Da’s voice. Why was he speaking like that – cold, slow?

  See here, how my blood runs not blue at my wrist, but black?

  And why did I know exactly what he was going to say next?

  Your mother always said it was ink. I am a cartographer through to my heart.

  Da was ahead of me, walking through a dark channel of houses that swayed in the wind like trees. Now they were trees, and Da was stretching his hand towards me, redness flooding his palm. His chest was a bloody mess of skin and feathers, black feathers, like the ravens Pep caught.

  My heart . . .

  I was dreaming. Dream-Da was walking towards me, his face blank. I wrenched my chest from the hot ground, pulling myself backwards, away from him, along the stretching line of trees, out of the dream.

  Something was tugging my hair.

  Miss La. When I opened my eyes she squawked indignantly and began running around in circles. I was on the floor of the study. Pep was sitting in the doorway, regarding me cautiously. But Da – where was he?

  My head throbbed as I looked at my fingers. Still that deep-red stain. I stood slowly. The room tilted and my shoulder ached where I had landed on it. I made my way shakily through the house, checking the kitchen and the garden, where Gabo’s tabaiba bush was just beginning to bloom with starburst blossoms. Miss La and Pep followed, but there was no Da anywhere.

  At the front the street was still deserted. I held on to the doorknob as if the ground were an ocean and letting go meant drowning. The drumming in my ears was back, layering over the sound of insects and the ravens that hunted them
.

  ‘Over here.’ The voice made me jump. ‘Isa, in here.’

  Masha was peering through a crack in her shutters. I let go of the door and crossed the street, legs shaking.

  Masha closed the door hurriedly behind me. ‘What are you doing out there all alone?’

  The words rushed from my mouth. ‘It’s Da, he’s not at home and I can’t find him and there’s blood—’ I held out my hand. It shook, though I told it not to.

  ‘Isa, breathe.’

  Masha wiped away my tears with her cuff, and steered me to a chair. She uncurled my fingers, and brought a bowl of warm water from the stove. She began rubbing at the stain with a coarse cloth. The back door was open and a sluggish breeze wafted in from the dirt courtyard.

  ‘This isn’t blood.’ Masha’s face was scrunched up with concentration.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It’s not blood. See? See how it won’t budge, no matter how I scrub it?’

  The stain was still bright red.

  ‘But what is it?’

  Masha shrugged. ‘Ink, I imagine.’

  ‘But where’s Da?’

  A voice came from the back doorstep. I squinted and made out the shape of a broad back against the brightness. Pablo.

  ‘I saw him heading towards the market square a while ago,’ he said. ‘He didn’t look injured to me, just scared.’ His voice was no longer boyish, but deep and cracking slightly at the edges.

  Masha clucked her tongue. ‘Why didn’t you say sooner?’

  I swallowed. ‘Where was he going?’

  ‘I expect to get you from school after hearing what happened.’

  ‘What has happened?’

  ‘You mean you don’t know?’ said Masha, her voice thin.

  I shook my head desperately.

  Masha and Pablo talked at the same time.

  ‘Maybe we should wait until your da gets here—’

  ‘They found a body—’

  ‘Pablo!’ said Masha sharply.

  ‘What? She wants to know. She’ll find out anyway.’

  ‘You just want to scare her.’

  ‘I won’t be scared.’ I jutted out my chin, to show I wasn’t crying any more. ‘You can tell me.’