The Map Maker's Daughter

by Caroline Dunford

  Maven was shaking her by the shoulders. ‘Hush! You’ll have all of Camden and Milton upon us!’

  Sharra sat up rubbing her throat. It felt raw and dry. ‘I’m sorry,’ she croaked. ‘Bad dream.’

  ‘I know things don’t look good right now, but as long as you keep quiet we’re safe at least for tonight. Can we get some sleep now?’

  ‘I saw him. The man I killed. He was chasing me.’ The words tumbled out of Sharra.

  Maven frowned. ‘There’s only one place in this world where the dead can reach you – if the legends don’t lie – and I assure you it’s not in Camden wood.’

  ‘Do you promise?’

  Maven looked at her incredulously.

  ‘I know. It’s silly. But can the dead come back? In the dark . . .’

  ‘The world protect me from Hold-sheltered women,’ muttered Maven. ‘The dead cannot harm you. Go to sleep.’

  Sharra awoke cold. ‘No fire?’ she asked through chattering teeth.

  ‘Not unless you want to let everyone know where we are.’ He offered her some cold meat. ‘Have you come to any conclusions? You were tossing and turning all night.’

  ‘We have a common enemy.’

  ‘That perspective had not escaped me.’

  ‘We could work together. I could help you hang whoever it is. Well, maybe not help you hang, but you know what I mean.’

  ‘Not really. Have you acquired a taste for killing?’

  ‘You said you had a good reason.’ Sharra rubbed her face with her hands. ‘This wasn’t how I wanted the conversation to go.’

  ‘I imagine not.’

  ‘You said something last night. When you woke me. It made me think about my mother.’

  ‘What about her?’

  ‘I can feel her near me. Now more than ever.’

  Maven raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Everything that is happening is connected to the past, to her.’

  ‘That helps us how?’

  ‘I think I should ask her.’

  ‘You said she was dead.’ Maven’s face creased into a puzzled frown. Suddenly it cleared, to be replaced by a look of horror. ‘Oh no. Oh no no no.’

  Sharra came over and sat close to Maven. ‘Last night you said there was a place where the dead could come to the living.’

  Maven shook his head. ‘I never said that.’

  ‘You implied it.’

  ‘It’s only a legend.’

  Sharra looked him directly in the eye. ‘But you believe in it, don’t you?’

  Maven sighed. ‘My grandmother follows the Cult of the Oracle and yes, they do believe there is a place where you can speak to the dead.’

  ‘Would she tell us about it?’

  Maven laughed bitterly. ‘Oh yes. She’s been telling me about it since I picked up that rope.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She thinks I’m throwing my life away.’

  ‘She thinks whoever you lost is the only person who could stop you.’

  Maven gave her a long considering look. He nodded. ‘Yes. She’d rather I was lost at sea searching for a myth than was executed for killing a Map Maker.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘She knows the punishment that our family would suffer if I . . . complete my plan. Kill a Map Maker.’

  ‘But you don’t care.’

  ‘I wasn’t intending to tell anyone my name and address.’

  ‘If they caught you you’d be tortured.’

  ‘I have no intention of being caught,’ snapped Maven.

  ‘You can’t guarantee that. Maybe she’s right. Maybe you should ask the person you’re trying to revenge if they would want you to put everyone at risk.’

  Maven was silent a long time. Sharra waited. Finally, he stood up, brushing the earth from his knees. ‘I’ll take you home. You can speak with my grandmother yourself. Even if people come looking for us in the village my people will hide us.’

  ‘We could stay there?’

  ‘For a while. I don’t want to put innocent people in danger on my account for longer than I must.’ He looked at her very hard. ‘Do you?’

  ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘We’ll have to travel across the fallow fields. It will be dangerous, but it’s the quickest way.’

  Sharra’s stomach turned over.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘A little rain won’t hurt us.’

  Maven kept the pace fast, so there was little opportunity to talk. The day continued wet, grey and cold. Sharra’s guilt at involving Maven increased at every step.

  That night as he struggled to cut Melion branches, Sharra tried to make peace. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  ‘Can you make the sap stop hardening in this cold?’

  ‘No. I meant if you wanted to talk or anything.’

  ‘I know what you meant. Leave it.’

  Sharra slept very little that night.

  The morning came cold with frost creaking across the ground. Sharra’s cloak cracked with thin broken ice as she sat up. Fog surrounded the campsite. The pale morning sun shone blearily gold through the heavy mist. Maven kicked over the cooling embers of their fire and silently they moved out of the forest.

  Sharra found she could see some distance around her. Enough not to walk into a tree or fall down a ditch, but the horizon was lost in the mist. It was like walking inside a moving bubble. Colours were muted and Maven was a dark shadow by her side.

  ‘It’s creepy,’ said Sharra.

  ‘It’s lucky,’ said Maven in tones that precluded further conversation.

  The misty sun was overhead when Sharra noticed the shadows ahead had straight edges. Long and low, it had to be some kind of a wall. She tugged excitedly at Maven’s arm and pointed. ‘Look,’ she hissed. ‘A wall.’

  Maven disengaged his arm. ‘Yes.’

  Maven pushed open a shadowy gate and led Sharra up a hill. As they climbed a house began to form out of the fog in front of them. It was long and low. As they grew nearer Sharra could see they were coming up on a corner, and guessed the building must be built around a courtyard. At the edge of the path leading to the door Maven put his hand on her arm and stopped her. Sharra jumped in surprise.

  ‘I’m going to tell them you’re a maid from Milton Hold. They don’t have quite the same feelings as I do about Map Makers, but there is still bad feeling over what happened.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Maven gave her a stony look.

  ‘You mean they might hurt me?’

  ‘I doubt it. But they’d be unlikely to give you shelter. Let me do the talking and for once don’t interrupt.’

  ‘As if –’

  Maven held up his hand and Sharra closed her mouth. He walked quickly up to a double-gated door and banged on the wooden panelling. ‘Hie!’ he called. ‘It’s me! Hie!’

  Silence. Maven banged on the door again. Sharra’s ears picked up the sound of a slow, shuffling gait making its way towards the door. The hair on the back of her neck began to rise. She looked in appeal to Maven, but he was staring straight at the door. There was a slow scraping of heavy bolts being drawn back. Then the upper gate swung outwards. Maven pulled Sharra back moments before it could hit her full in the face. Standing, revealed by the open gate, was an old woman. Her wrinkled apple shaped face creased into a smile. ‘Maven! You’ve come back. I knew it. Teresa! Milly! Scarlet! Come quickly! Maven’s here.’

  ‘Oh world! Are they all here?’ He leaned over and kissed the old woman on the cheek. ‘Tell me they didn’t bring the infants?’

  The old woman clipped Maven gently round the ear. ‘Get away with you! Like they’d leave the young ones on their own.’

  Maven reached behind the lower gate and pulled back the stiff bolt. ‘They could be with their fathers for once,’ he muttered.

  ‘And is not every man down with his ship ensuring the fog don’t steal her?’

  ‘Superstitious rubbish!’

  The old woman landed him a hearty cuff as he leaned o
ver the bottom gate. ‘Get off, Gran! That’s sore.’

  ‘Maven!’ Another, slightly younger, woman appeared from behind Maven’s Gran. She had hair as dark as Maven’s flecked at her temples by two long white streaks. She was still a striking woman and must, Sharra thought, have been an incredible beauty when young. ‘Maven! My darling boy! You’re back. Come in! Come in! And you still have the rope! Thank the world you turned back. I couldn’t bear to lose you too, darling child.’

  Even through the fog Sharra could tell Maven was becoming distinctly embarrassed. ‘Shut that door!’ yelled another woman. She hurried down the passage. ‘You’re letting the fog in. It’s making Sandy and Pepo cough. Shut it now!’

  ‘You’re quite right, Scarlet,’ said Maven’s mother. ‘We must keep your babes warm. Come in, Maven.’

  Maven reached behind him and pulled Sharra forward. ‘This is Sharra. She’s a maid from Camden Hold. She got lost in the fog. I said we’d give her shelter until the fog lifts. Then I’ll take her back.’

  ‘I don’t know that we have room,’ said Scarlet.

  ‘It’s my house,’ said Maven.

  ‘I thought you’d abandoned all worldly responsibility. What was it he said, Mother? He wasn’t going to waste the rest of his life among us while those responsible go unpunished.’

  Maven’s mother began to protest weakly when yet another woman made her voice heard. ‘Don’t be a cat, Scarlet. You’ve no thought other than for your precious babes. Maven is still master here.’ Scarlet vanished back into the house. The last woman came forward; she was a younger version of Maven’s mother, and astoundingly beautiful. She gestured to Sharra. ‘Away in, Sharra. It’s a foul day.’

  Maven shoved her hard in the back and she stumbled over the threshold. Suddenly women surrounded her. To Hold-reared Sharra it felt like a very small space, but it was warm. Teresa closed and bolted the doors. Maven slumped down on a stool in the corner. Maven’s grandmother retreated back into the house and as people cleared away Sharra realised this was the house’s kitchen.

  A closed range provided the heat. Shelves lined the walls and strings of all sorts of things hung from the ceiling. A large table, with eight seats, took up most of the floor space. Light came in from glass set into the ceiling. It was very dim and barely larger than one of the smaller pantries in the Hold.

  ‘Maven, a seat for your guest,’ chided Teresa.

  He got up and thrust the stool at Sharra. Then he too stomped off down the passageway. ‘Oh, Mave!’ fluttered his mother, chasing after him. Teresa steered Sharra to a wooden seat by the range. It had wingbacks to keep out the draughts and a large cushion complete with a cat. Teresa shooed the cat away. ‘You mustn’t mind him,’ she said. ‘He’s been through a lot.’

  ‘He lost someone, didn’t he? To a Shift?’

  Teresa gave a sad smile. ‘He’s not told you, has he?’

  Sharra shook her head.

  ‘Well now, have you eaten?’

  ‘Not since last night, but Maven –’

  ‘Trust him to not to bother with food. But you’re such a slip of a thing, you must be starving. We’ve had dinner, but there will be bread, cheese and maybe a bit of broth left I can heat up. If Scarlet hasn’t fed it to those brats of hers. The pair of them are bottomless pits!’

  Within minutes the kitchen was filling with cooking smells. Sharra’s stomach grumbled loudly. Teresa laughed as she brought over a plate. ‘There, it’s not as fine as Hold food I’ll be bound, but welcome after the day you’ve had.’

  ‘Thank you. It looks wonderful.’ She took her first taste of broth. ‘That’s the best I’ve ever tasted.’

  ‘That I don’t believe.’ Teresa smiled and sat beside her.

  Sharra smiled back. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungry before. It is very good.’

  ‘I’ll tell my grandmother. It’s an old family recipe. We tease her about using stones in it.’

  ‘Stones?’ Sharra asked blankly.

  ‘The old story about the wandering man with the magic soup stone?’

  ‘I’m sorry I don’t know it.’

  Teresa shrugged. ‘It’s only a children’s tale.’

  ‘What happens?’

  ‘Oh, this man comes into a village and says he has the most amazing stone that makes the best soup in the world, but if anyone wants to try something it’s only fair that they contribute something to the soup.’

  ‘So he gets free soup out of water and an old rock?’

  Teresa grinned. ‘You’re sharp. Yes, that’s it. Gran’s always getting other people to add bits and pieces.’ She shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Depending on the season and the catch it can be hard to make food stretch to feed all of us.’

  ‘I didn’t realise.’

  Teresa shrugged. ‘We’re hoping with the latest settlement more of the nearby land will be put back to arable. Did you hear anything?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry. Nothing.’

  Teresa got up and looked out the window. Her fingers tapped nervously on the edge of the counter. Sharra could see her whole body was tense.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  Teresa shook her head. ‘No. It’s only me fretting. Since . . . well since . . . what happened I get a bit jittery when the weather is bad.’

  ‘What did happen? Maven hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear he blames the Map Makers for something.’ Sharra lowered her voice. ‘Do you know he talks about hanging one? Is he serious?’

  Teresa came back to the table. ‘I don’t know. But if he told you that he must trust you.’

  Sharra shook her head. ‘He saved my life. I saved his. We were even, but then things got complicated.’

  ‘He saved . . . you saved . . .’

  ‘I got lost in a fallow field and the ground opened up.’

  Teresa’s hand flew to her face! ‘Oh my world, I knew he was unhappy, but to think of him crossing the fallow fields as if he didn’t care whether he lived or died.’ She paused. ‘Although obviously I’m glad for your sake. What were you doing there?’

  ‘I was lost.’

  ‘But why were you on your own anyway and how did you save Maven’s life?’

  Sharra squirmed uncomfortably. ‘I’m not sure Maven would want me to tell you.’

  ‘I’m his sister.’

  ‘I was sent by my lady to take a letter to someone she shouldn’t have been writing to. I can’t say much more than that.’

  Teresa did not look convinced.

  ‘It’s a matter of honour.’

  ‘And you saved Maven’s life?’

  ‘She did. Unlikely though it sounds.’ Maven came back into the kitchen. ‘Of course, it was entirely her fault I was in any danger in the first place.’

  ‘Maven!’ said Teresa.

  ‘No. He’s right, Teresa. I have got him into a mess.’

  ‘Anything that takes his mind off the past is a good thing.’

  ‘Takes my mind off the past!’ exploded Maven. ‘I am not likely to forget what happened.’

  Sharra stood up. ‘I should leave.’

  ‘The last thing I need is to have to hunt you down in the mist,’ snapped Maven.

  ‘I meant that I should go to another room while you discuss this.’

  ‘It’s not a Hold, Sharra. We don’t have that much space.’

  ‘Stop it!’ said Teresa. ‘She’s right. This is very rude of us.’

  ‘Of us! You mean me. Fine. I’ll go. I only came in for this.’ He reached up and grabbed a shirt that hung from a pulley high above the range. Then he left.

  Sharra sat down again feeling extremely awkward. ‘I’m sorry. If I could leave I would.’

  Teresa patted her on the hand. ‘It’s not your fault, love. Not so long ago you would have found us all very different. Maven might even have been smiling.’ She smiled faintly herself as she said this, but the sorrow lingered around her eyes.

  Sharra didn’t know what to say, so she drank her tea and waited. There was silence. Then T
eresa gave a huge sigh. ‘You were right. There was a Shift here. For some reason they gave us no warning. Perhaps they had no people to spare with the settlement. I’d never say this in front of Maven, but we got off lightly. A few homes soaked through. A few stones bowled out of walls.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Of course, you don’t. You came upon us in the fog. We’re a fishing port.’

  Sharra looked blank.

  ‘A harboured port. I know it’s unusual for a village, but it’s been here forever. When a Shift happens, if it’s not done well, water can come in across the bay.’

  An icy wave of fear crept through Sharra. She wanted to ask when exactly this had happened, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  ‘He was out on his boat when the Shift started. He was already locked into the rigging, so he didn’t have time to get down. He was caught in the storm. He shouldn’t have survived. The boat was smashed. Broke her back on the new rocks.’

  ‘That must have been terrifying.’

  Teresa shrugged. ‘I’m sure it was. But he’s a seasoned sailor. He’s been through some terrible cloud-storms out there on the broad sea.’

  ‘So he’s not upset about the boat?’ pressed Sharra.

  ‘No, it wasn’t the boat.’ She wiped her hands across her eyes. ‘He saved us, you know. He saw the Shift from high in the rigging. Called out to the village. It gave us time to get to higher ground. Water Shift are slow. Very powerful, but slow in the starting. It’s only at the end they move fast. So all of us – even Scarlet carrying a babe on each hip – made it safe to the high ground. Everyone except Yasmeen. Maven’s betrothed.’ Teresa’s voice cracked. ‘I’d been pretty clear I thought Maven had made a bad choice.’ She blinked back a tear. ‘Of course I regret that now.’ She took a sip of tea and composed herself. ‘You see, he’s head of the family now our father has retired and he needs a strong wife – one who can lead, resolve problems, keep the village running while he’s at sea.’

  ‘He’s the village elder?’ asked Sharra momentarily diverted.

  Teresa smiled. ‘I know. It seems silly, doesn’t it? He’s hardly more than a boy. I would never have thought Yasmeen was the one for him. But now he acts as if his life is over.’