The Map Maker's Daughter

by Caroline Dunford

  Marnie was refilling Sharra’s mug for the third time when Gareth, their father’s clerk, hurried into the kitchen. His woolly white hair was even more unkempt than usual giving him the appearance of a startled baby owl. There was a pencil behind each ear and he was twirling a third absentmindedly in his left hand. Under his right arm he pinned a collection of papers to his side in a vice-like grip. When he saw the sisters by the fire he raised his arms in frustration showering the kitchen tiles with lists of things he was going to do later.

  ‘Sharra! What is this I’ve been hearing about you?’ He started at the sudden rush of papers. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do. It really is too bad of you. I have enough to do without . . . why, I can’t remember a day this week when I haven’t had –’

  Marnie intervened. ‘Oh hush, Gareth. The pair of them are exhausted and half frozen. Anything they’ve been up to can wait until the morning.’

  Gareth gestured her impatiently to one side. ‘No, it can’t.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything,’ murmured Jayne, who was half asleep in her chair.

  ‘Why don’t you help Jayne to her bed, Marnie? She’s in worse shape than me,’ said Sharra. ‘And she’s right. This is nothing to do with her.’

  ‘I’ll have you know I don’t work in the nurseries any more,’ grumbled Marnie, but she slipped an arm around Jayne and helped her stand.

  Gareth watched them leave.

  ‘She had to wait for me in the cold. I don’t think she’s as strong as me.’

  When they were alone Gareth took Sharra by the shoulders and shook her. ‘What did you think you were doing?’ he yelled. ‘Your escapade is the talk of the Map rooms thanks to the messengers. You know what they’re like! It’ll be across the country before you know it.’

  ‘Let go!’ cried Sharra pulling free. ‘I didn’t go looking for trouble.’

  ‘But you didn’t turn away when it arrived.’

  Sharra took a deep breath. ‘I did a good thing, Gareth. Or are you going to tell me the people in Malington would have worked out where it was safe to be tonight without the Maps?’

  ‘Malington? I thought you only went to Harrbourgh. You went to Malington! Dear world . . .’

  ‘No, I didn’t. But your messenger was intending to only go to Harrbourgh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He said he didn’t have time to do both.’

  ‘No, he probably didn’t. But, Sharra, that still doesn’t excuse your conduct. Women must have nothing to do with the Maps, you know this.’

  ‘With drawing them, yes. But even delivering them, Gareth? That’s ridiculous.’

  Gareth sighed. ‘Did you get them there in time?’

  ‘Of course. And it was a woman who took them not a man.’

  ‘It’s different outside the Holds. Among the talentless. You know things don’t, can’t, work the same way.’

  ‘I know they don’t, but no one has ever given me a good reason why! I’m as smart if not smarter than any of the boys here. You know that! I don’t want to spend my life in diplomacy and domesticity. I want to study the Maps. I want to work in the Map Rooms. I have the right kind of mind. You know I have! You helped school me!’

  Gareth ran his fingers through his hair making it stick out even more alarmingly. ‘It’s not a question of ability, Sharra. It’s suitability.’

  ‘I am so sick of hearing this. Father says the world has even less time than most people think. He says –’

  ‘Your father is under a great deal of pressure. He can – he can over-worry at times.’

  ‘But you need more Map Makers! You can’t deny the Shift are getting more frequent. Father says balance is almost lost.’

  Gareth raised his hand. ‘Now stop this! There is a lot of gossip among the talentless, but the Map Makers at the Central Archive have ascertained and decreed that the world remains stable. The True Map remains at the heart of the Archive. It may reflect changes we have seen in the world, but it is strong.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  Gareth shook his head. ‘If only you had been born a boy.’ He sighed. ‘Forget what I said. It’s not something I can explain to you.’

  Sharra opened her mouth to protest. Gareth cut her off. ‘Even if I did you don’t have the training to understand. Come on, sit down.’ He guided her back to the chairs by the fire. ‘Now, Sharra, you only hear about more Shift because we are acquiring more and more knowledge to predict them and to warn people. These Shift always happened, Sharra. It’s just that we all hear about them now. Thanks in no small part to the chattering of the messengers.’

  Sharra looked him straight in the eye. ‘I don’t think you’re telling the truth, Gareth.’

  ‘Sharra!’ Gareth frowned, his thick white eyebrows lowered over his eyes making his gentle face appear fierce.

  ‘Well, maybe you’re telling the truth as you’ve been told it.’

  ‘So now the Map Makers at the Central Archive, the custodians of our world, are lying! Bless the world, girl, but you must learn to think before you speak. I know you think I’m only a poor clerk.’

  ‘I know you’re my father’s right-hand man. You might not draw the Maps, Gareth, but you know as much as he does about the state of our world.’

  Gareth grunted, but his frown was fading. Sharra pressed on. ‘I can feel it. Every time I pass close to the Map Rooms I can feel them – feel them – I can’t explain it. It’s as if they’re calling to me, the Maps. I feel a sort of tug inside. I can’t explain. It’s like something isn’t right –’

  She broke off as she realised Gareth was staring at her open-mouthed. ‘I know it sounds silly, but . . .’

  ‘Enough!’ Gareth’s voice was razor sharp. ‘You have no business to be anywhere near the Cartography Halls. I warn you now, Sharra, this kind of talk is more dangerous than you can know.’

  Sharra bit her lip and blinked back tears. ‘I’ve never told anyone that.’

  ‘I suggest you never do again!’

  Gareth scowled fiercely. Sharra swallowed. Despite the soup her throat was suddenly dry. This wasn’t the tutor she knew and loved. She couldn’t bear it. She put out a hand to lightly touch his wrist.

  Gareth sank back in his seat. ‘Sharra, Maps have gone astray before. Horses fail. Messengers fail. It’s the way of things.’

  ‘I made a difference though, didn’t I?’

  ‘Possibly. Yes. But it isn’t that simple.’

  Sharra helped herself to more soup. ‘What does my father have to say about it?’ she asked as casually as she could.

  ‘He’s very busy. So far I’ve managed to keep this from him.’

  ‘He’s always busy,’ snapped Sharra.

  ‘On the eve of a Settlement of course he’s busy! Do you have any idea how many guests we’re expecting tomorrow? And every one of them will be arguing their own importance, so they can claim a bigger say in what assets or resources or land they should get. It’s not just about Maps, you know. The women will be working just as hard behind the scenes forging alliances. I know Dame Ivory has been working on her strategies for months. Everybody wants more than there is and yet everyone has to be kept happy. It’s a diplomatic nightmare.’ Gareth wiped a hand across his face. ‘And my lists are all over the floor.’

  ‘I’ll get them for you.’ Sharra began to scoop them up, setting the edges to rights and taking her time. ‘Why did my father want to host it? It’s not his proper turn for some years is it?’

  ‘If I tell you, will you promise me you’ll do everything in your power not to cause trouble during the Settlement? Dame Ivory tells me you have been troublesome.’

  ‘Dame Ivory hates me.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Sharra. She doesn’t hate you. She’s always done her best by you. I don’t say as Hold Mother she doesn’t have her favourites, but you’re her step-daughter.’

  ‘What did she say about me?’

  Gareth shook his head. ‘Who?’

  ‘Ivory?’


  ‘Oh, that. She said you’d been asking questions about your mother again. Which is, of course, quite natural. You’re growing up and you deserve to be told.’

  Sharra caught her breath. ‘Do you mean that finally someone might tell me what happened to my mother?’

  ‘You know what happened to her, Sharra. She died.’

  ‘And father almost immediately married Ivory.’

  ‘You remember that? You were so little.’

  ‘I think most children would remember their mother disappearing and then being given a new mother. Especially if that mother was Dame Ivory.’

  Gareth’s eyes were no longer focused on her. ‘It was all so very tragic.’

  ‘What was tragic? What happened to her? How did she die?’

  ‘Your father said you weren’t to be told about it until you were older.’

  ‘I am older. Ivory’s been making noises about getting me married off.’

  ‘I doubt that. You should trust Ivory. When I think what might have happened to the pair of you if she hadn’t married your father when she did . . .’ Gareth broke off looking appalled. ‘Sharra, please forget I said that! I’m under so much pressure at the moment. I know you have questions, but honestly this is the very worst time you could be raising them. Now, more than ever, you need to be discreet!’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So persistent. You remind me of Milton as a boy. Very well, if it will assure your behaviour. Your father is petitioning to return to the Central Archive. Do you understand what that would mean?’

  ‘Not entirely. He’d be more involved with bigger Maps.’ A note of panic crept into her voice. ‘And he’d have to move there. Leave Milton Hold!’

  ‘It would mean he wouldn’t just be creating the Maps for the local Holds. He’d have access to the True Map and be able to study the Shift across the whole world. He’d be able to see with his own eyes how stable the world is. He’d be one of elite group of the very best Map Makers in the world who study and predict global Shift. The responsibility of the position is incalculable. He must be seen to lead a well-run Hold. If it seems he cannot even control his children then the other Hold Lords are hardly going to let him control the fate of the world, are they? And above all it’s vital no one brings up the subject of your mother. Now more than ever.’

  ‘He’s that good a Map Maker?’ asked Sharra. ‘I never realised.’

  ‘When he was young he was the greatest Map Maker of his age.’

  ‘Truly? What happened? Why did he leave the Central Archive?’

  Gareth struggled to his feet. ‘You’re trying to distract me, Sharra. I’ll not repeat old tales. Away to bed with you.’

  ‘So am I being punished or praised?’

  ‘If I thought you’d delivered those Maps out of a sense of duty and responsibility . . .’

  ‘I did!’

  ‘. . . rather than a lust for adventure I’d be more likely to praise you. As it is, consider this a warning. Nothing will happen this time, but you must take care not to bring yourself to the Hold’s attention again for some time. I don’t say forever. I don’t ask for the impossible. But during the Settlement you must be as quiet and unseen as a mouse in the kitchen.’

  ‘As all good daughters should be!’

  Gareth ruffled her hair. ‘It’s about time we gave you some time down on one of the message stations to see how things work. Ivory’s let a couple of girls do it now. She’s really quite progressive, you know. It’s hard work, but it can give a greater sense of the whole.’ Suddenly Gareth beamed. ‘I do believe this is a very good idea. If you’re down there I don’t see how you could get into trouble elsewhere. You might even enjoy it! I’m busy, but I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Thank you, Gareth.’ Sharra tried to sound sincere. She knew he meant well.

  ‘You’ve got such little hands. But I’m sure you’ll manage. Away to bed with you.’

  ‘What have my hands got to do with anything?’

  ‘Bed.’

  Later, Sharra, tucked up snugly in a warmed bed, lay awake listening to the floomph-floomph of the Map canisters travelling through the pipes beneath the children’s room. It was a sound that had lulled her to sleep for as long as she could remember. But tonight sleep was impossible. She felt uneasy. Thoughts tumbled through her tired mind. If her father was such a superb Map Maker was that where she got her desire to draw? If he gained a position at the Central Archive would he be able to overturn the ruling about women and Map making? What if he got there and found he was right? That the world was much less stable than anyone except her father knew? She pummelled her pillow and tossed onto her other side. If only she had someone to talk to. Really talk to. If only her mother had lived.

  Sharra squinted against the night and tried to remember her mother’s face. She knew she’d known it once, but it was so long ago and now all that came to her mind was the touch of long hair against her face and faint scent of rose musk. She thumped her pillow again, fighting the sadness that threatened to engulf her. Suddenly, like a small child, she wanted nothing more than to feel the safety of her mother’s arms around her. But she couldn’t remember how that felt. Sharra blinked back tears. She had to think about something else. She closed her eyes.

  Unbidden the image of the clean, white paper hidden away under her bed came to her. Everyone was asleep; surely it wouldn’t hurt to draw one image? In her mind’s eye she saw Milton Hold with all its strange mixture of vennels, archways, eves and mismatched towers. Its very outline was a puzzle in itself. The urge to draw was almost painful. Nothing calmed her mind like sketching. Nothing was as forbidden. She turned over and willed herself to sleep. The feeling of dread followed her down into her dreams.

  Across the courtyard from the children’s wing, Gory sat behind a locked door in his study in Milton Hold. He was bent intently over his desk. The light of the oil lamp was turned low as he carefully scraped a wax seal from the page before him. When he had finished he blew the tiny remnants into his hand, rolled them into a ball, dropped them into his pocket and wiped his hands down on his jacket.

  The page he had been altering was part of a large tome that lay open on the desk in front of him. Each leaf was covered in row upon row, column upon column, of spidery figures ending in a complex text incomprehensible to the talentless and impenetrable to all but Map Makers. It was turned to a freshly written page headed Malington, Harrbourgh and Proless. He ran his fingers carefully down one line unconsciously holding his breath as he did so. As he reached the end he breathed out slowly. He was almost certain no one else could have spotted it. Gory bit his thumbnail. He tried to mentally compute the extent of the error, but it was too complicated.

  He opened a drawer and reached inside to flick a hidden mechanism. The bottom of the drawer shifted. Gory could not stop himself from glancing over his shoulder as he lifted the new seal from its hiding place and set it before him. He took a new bar of wax and held it over the heat of the lamp. When it was soft enough he pressed the softened wax onto the page. He hesitated for a moment then he pressed Lord Milton’s seal firmly onto the page. He stared down at it for a long moment as if he could not believe what he had done. Then he closed the book and reached for his glass. What was done was done. He ran his fingers through his tightly curled hair and shut the book. It was time to think of happier things. At least one young woman would be looking for him at dinner and afterwards he would suggest a moonlight walk.

  Outside in the night many miles away, a darkness, the antithesis of light, edged towards Harrbourgh. The Moon of Shadows rose into the sky. From its puckered face beamed forth a milky light. The frost sparkled, but nothing could illuminate the black fire that stole around the edge of one farmhouse.

  The wind pushed at the farmhouse windows as if it would warn the inhabitants. The cold sent mice scurrying behind skirting boards and made the children curl tighter into balls beneath their covers. No one roused.

  The black fire licked at the farmhouse wall. Slowly the s
tones began to dissolve.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning Sharra woke early to the sounds of activity throughout the Hold. She got up, washed and dressed and only then peeped out into the corridor. Two maids rushed past her, their arms filled with linen.

  Attracted by the noise Jayne came over to peer out. ‘We should see if we can help. There must be lots of things to be moved and tidied.’

  Sharra nodded wide-eyed at her.

  ‘I’ll round up the rest of the little ones and take them down to the kitchen. See if you can catch one of the maids and ask what we can do up here.’

  ‘Are you sure –’ Sharra began, but Jayne was already bustling a group out of the door – ‘that you’re asking the right person?’

  Jayne had barely left before there was a banging on the door. Startled, Sharra opened it to three red-faced youths, struggling with piles of luggage. ‘Stuff for the Camden kids,’ puffed one. ‘Come on early. Somewhere we can put it, Miss?’

  Sharra opened the door wide and the men headed for the clearest corner of the room, where they unceremoniously dumped their burdens and left.

  Sharra fetched a mug of water from the sluice room and settled down on the bed to enjoy her solitary breakfast. There was the sharp crack-crack of a woman’s courtly shoe in the passage outside.

  Sharra leapt off the bed. A moment later she heard Ivory’s voice calling to a maid in the passageway. Sharra couldn’t quite make out the words, but she recognised the tone; Ivory wasn’t in a good mood.

  It was a long shot, but . . . Sharra scrambled into the mess of luggage, pulling valises and bags over her as she slid down between two of the chests.

  The dormitory door opened. ‘Sharra! Are you in here?’ Dame Ivory’s voice was both chilly and commanding.

  Sharra held her breath.

  ‘Sharra, if you make me look for you, I will make you regret it! Come out now!’

  Sharra was reaching up to push a large green valise away from her head, when a plaintive little voice answered Ivory. ‘Where did everyone go, Dame Mother? Have I slept through breakfast? I don’t understand.’