The Map Maker's Daughter

by Caroline Dunford

  Sharra slumped against a wall. ‘You mean they wouldn’t be content to leave with only me?’

  ‘If they have been given the authority to sack a village of innocents and were willing to do so for money, why let a trifling reason like you giving yourself up stop them?’

  There was a lull in the storm and the voices of Scarlet’s children playing in another room floated through to them.

  ‘Can’t we get everyone out?’

  ‘A whole village?’

  ‘On the boats.’

  Maven looked at her pityingly. ‘The storm.’

  ‘Over the hills?’

  ‘There is only one pass into Frangelli. It’s steep sided.’

  Sharra straightened up. ‘With rocks?’

  Maven nodded.

  ‘And that’s where the mercenaries are?’

  ‘At the moment. Yes.’

  ‘Why are they waiting?’

  ‘For Dale to return?’

  Sharra knew she had no choice. ‘Please don’t hate me,’ she whispered, and then in a strong voice she said, ‘Do you have paper here? Pen and ink?’

  ‘I don’t think writing them a letter is going to make any difference.’

  ‘I’m going to do what the Map Makers do.’ Maven’s head jerked up. ‘You suspected when you saw the storm, didn’t you? The kind of storm you said that heralds a Shift? A storm that has appeared here so conveniently.’

  ‘That’s madness,’ said Maven slowly. ‘The Isle must have done something to our wits. It’s not possible.’

  ‘Not possible that Map Makers can cause Shift as well as predict it? Doesn’t it make a lot of sense?’

  ‘But why would they do it? So many lives are lost to Shift.’

  ‘They do it to change the world. Well, if you haven’t got paper . . .’ Sharra swept everything off the table and onto the floor. Bowls, cups and jugs shattered on the stone floor. ‘In the beginning it was to keep us safe. Shift were the death throes of our world. The Map Makers learned to control them to save us, but then they got greedy.’

  ‘Did your mother tell you this?’

  ‘I think part of me always knew – suspected. But now I know. I’ve known since I came here – only I didn’t want it to be true.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘There’s a rule, a rule that women aren’t allowed to draw. I used to think it was because the men wanted to keep us from the Map Rooms, but now I know some women have the potential to be the greatest Map Makers – and it scares them. I think my mother may have been one. I think she did something to save me and it cost a lot of people their lives.’

  Maven went ashen. ‘You think you can cause Shift?’

  ‘I hoped it couldn’t be true, but I don’t know. There’s only one way to be sure.’

  There was the sound of running feet in the corridor. Sharra frantically looked around. ‘Flour! You must have flour!’

  ‘I don’t like this.’

  ‘We’ve run out of options.’

  Silently, Maven passed Sharra the flour bin. She emptied a pile into the middle of the table and begun to spread it out. The wind prowled outside the house. The timbers of Maven’s home groaned.

  Maven’s gran and his mother appeared at the door. ‘Scarlet and her husband have gone to speak with them,’ said his mother.

  Sharra’s head snapped up. ‘Will they be in the pass yet?’

  Milly shook her head. ‘It’ll take them a good half-hour.’

  ‘Good. Every moment is going to count. Maven, show me how the land lies.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Draw me a Map of the pass.’ Maven looked at her blankly. ‘In the flour.’ Lightning flashed outside the window, flooding the kitchen with sudden light.

  ‘There is no other way out,’ said Milly gently. ‘Our best chance is to talk to these people. I’ve told Scarlet to say you were lost at sea. Perhaps if we gave them your cloak?’

  Maven’s grandmother stepped up to the table. ‘I’ll draw it for you.’ Her dark eyes met Sharra’s. ‘I’ve always thought it would be just like the men to claim only they could do this.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Mother?’ said Milly.

  Maven’s grandmother turned round. ‘You’re fools, the pair of you. If you think Lord Camden is going to go to all the trouble of rounding up a pack of ruthless bandits it’s not going to be because Lord Milton wants a serving maid back, is it? Women have never been that important to the Hold families except as breeding stock. Unless, of course, this was an extraordinary woman. A woman who could bring their whole world to its knees. I knew there was something different about you, Sharra.’ The old women laughed. ‘I’d like to live to see that.’ She bent over the table and began to draw in the flour. ‘This is the road out of the village. Here’s the tavern. This is the start of the high top plateau we call the Walker’s Rest.’ She continued drawing and naming the areas around the path in careful detail. Sharra watched and listened closely. Her young head and Maven’s grandmother’s white head close together as they bent over the table intent on forming their Map. Their words were lost to the others as the storm raged on. Milly moved close to Maven.

  ‘What’s she talking about?’ Milly whispered to Maven. ‘You said this girl was a maid. I told Scarlet to say she was dead because I thought they’d take her and question her about her mistress.’

  ‘No. That’s the Map Maker’s Daughter, Sharra Milton. I thought if you knew who she was she wouldn’t be welcome here.’

  Milly looked at him in amazement. ‘Maven, this is your house and your loss. The choice is yours.’

  Maven smiled slightly. ‘Sharra doesn’t leave much to another’s choice.’

  The storm dulled to a low roar. Maven’s grandmother stepped back from the table. ‘That’s the best I can do. You’ll have to hurry if you don’t want to catch Scarlet in this. She’s annoying, but her children love her.’

  Sharra nodded. ‘I don’t know if this will work, but it’s the best I can come up with. It’s not a real Map. If I was trying to change things permanently it couldn’t work, but a rockfall . . . I think I can manage a rockfall.’

  Sharra bent her will to the Map. She shut out the rest of the world; Maven’s stern face, the destruction of the storm, the laughter of the children in the next room. Nothing must exist but the Map. As she focused her will she no longer saw flour on an old kitchen table; her mind’s eye took over and she saw the rolling hills surrounding the village of Frangelli. She saw the height, length and vast expanse of the Walker’s Rest. She saw how it ended abruptly in a scramble of ancient rock. She saw the steep rise of the Watcher on the other side, so that Walker and Watcher side by side made a narrow pass that wound down and flowed out into the wide bay of the harbour. The harbour walls shone golden, inviting her attention, begging for her to mould them again. With great effort she pulled her mind away. So this was the great danger: once she had begun how would she stop?

  In her mind’s eye she pictured the horsemen, imagined where they must be. Dale would be among them. Having his face both helped and hindered. She wanted him gone, but did she really want him dead? Perhaps she could put the rockfall ahead of them? Her mind hung over the pass hungry for every detail, but only the land was clear. She had no control, no sight of the people. She would have to be sure they could not get through. With a trembling hand she reached forward. In her mind she drew down the rocks and her hand moved as if it were not her own. Her fingers made quick, decisive strokes in the flour and she felt the world Shift.

  The flour beneath her finger smoked. Fire rushed across the table, a pure golden flame that shot out to the edges of the surface and then died. Far away beyond the storm there was rumbling. The ground beneath her feet shook. Then noise, light and pain collided in Sharra’s head and she knew no more.

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Sharra! Sharra! Are you all right?’

  ‘Head hurts,’ murmured Sharra.

  Sharra became aware she was being cradle
d in a pair of strong arms. She opened her eyes and looked directly into Maven’s concerned face. ‘Did it work?’ she asked. By way of answer Maven released her, gently enough that she wasn’t dropped, but leaving her sitting on the floor.

  ‘So it’s true the Shift are man-made. Can all Map Makers do this?’ His tone was bitter and there was an expression of disgust on his face.

  ‘I don’t know. I think the best Map Makers can.’

  ‘Best? Why would they do such a thing? If it was done as you said to hold the world together, why do the Shift continue?’

  ‘I think it’s because the world continues to change – there’s more darkness, nothingness, so they keep having to correct things.’

  ‘Like nipping and tucking when you take in a dress?’ asked Milly.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Sharra.

  Maven’s face darkened. ‘So it’s all for the greater good?’

  Sharra couldn’t meet his eye. ‘Shift can throw up minerals from the ground, give access to better soil, change boundaries of land and . . .’

  ‘Sometimes the Map Makers do it because they want things rather than because they need them?’ asked Maven. ‘It’s unbelievable that with the world in such a state they exploit it for their own ends.’

  ‘Not all do. My father is campaigning to have things put back to rights.’

  Maven walked up to the table and slammed his hand down onto the blackened top. The table split in half. ‘The whole lot of you deserve to be hanged.’

  ‘Oh hush, Maven,’ said his grandmother. ‘You heard her. The girl didn’t even know if she could do it before she tried. She was trying to help us.’

  Maven spun round. ‘Don’t you realise, Gran. They did kill her.’

  The old woman nodded slowly. ‘But Sharra saved us.’

  ‘What she has done,’ spat Maven, ‘is ensure that when those men get through the pass – and they will get through – that they will take their full revenge on Frangelli.’

  ‘But that was what you thought was going to happen anyway,’ Sharra could hear her voice rising. ‘We have time now. We can think of something!’

  ‘What? Thanks to your handiwork and this storm we’re trapped.’

  Sharra felt tears sting her eyes. Maven’s contempt stunned her more than the Shift. She sat down heavily in a chair and put her head in her hands. She needed to think. There had to be a way.

  ‘Maven. Mother’s right. She was only trying to help.’

  ‘I can live without her kind of help,’ he retorted. He began to pace backwards and forwards again.

  ‘We can hope she killed them in the Shift,’ said Maven’s grandmother.

  ‘They would only send more,’ said Maven. ‘These kind of people don’t give up.’

  ‘There must be someone who will help us,’ said Milly.

  Sharra lifted her head. ‘My father. My father, Lord Milton, he will help you.’

  ‘He’s a Map Maker!’

  Sharra sprung to her feet. ‘He might be a Map Maker, but he’s a good man. He’s been arguing that the world has been damaged for too long. He wants this to stop as much as you.’

  ‘I doubt that, but even if you’re right, how are you going to reach him. Send him a letter?’

  ‘Is there no other way out of here?’

  Maven’s gran frowned. ‘There’s the tunnels. They’ve not been in use since I was a girl and I don’t even know if it’s possible for a person to get inside, but –’

  ‘Come on, Mum, sit down,’ said Milly to Maven’s gran. ‘It’s all been a bit stressful for you.’

  ‘I’m not going daft, Milly,’ snapped the old woman. ‘When I was a girl my grandfather did maintenance work on the Map Tunnels that went between Milton and Camden. There’s a shaft up by the standing stones.’ Her face darkened. ‘There was a Shift, years ago, three of the men were killed. No one would work up there after that.’

  ‘You mean there’s a way-station in Frangelli?’ asked Sharra.

  ‘No. Grandfather called it a nexus. Something to do with routing the Maps, but it connects to the way-stations. I’m sure he said that.’

  ‘Even if we could get access to it, I doubt a letter would convince your father of all that is happening here.’

  ‘No.’ Light dawned in Sharra’s eyes. ‘I’ll send him myself.’

  Maven stopped pacing and looked down at her. ‘Yourself?’

  Sharra nodded. ‘Yes, I’ll need someone to help me operate the tubes. They’re not intended for people, but some of the capsules are as large as a man.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ said Maven.

  ‘We should travel light. There won’t be much room down there.’ She stood up. ‘We should go now.’

  ‘I have no intention of ever going anywhere with you again.’

  Milly rang her hands. ‘If she thinks there is a chance.’

  Maven stormed into the other room. Sharra watched wordlessly.

  ‘He’ll be back,’ said Maven’s grandmother. ‘This is all very hard on him, but he’s a good man. He’d give his life for anyone in the village. He’s not someone who can accept being powerless. You need to get going. He’ll follow you.’

  ‘I’ll pack you some food.’ Milly began to bustle about the kitchen.

  Maven’s grandmother rose creakily to her feet. ‘Come with me. We need to find you some thicker, stronger clothes.’

  When Sharra returned to the kitchen Milly was fawning over a wet Scarlet and her husband. Scarlet was waving her hands about excitedly and chatting to her mother. Her husband, a tall, thickset man, was hunched over a mug of tea, silent. Maven, wearing a cloak, was leaning against the wall, looking like a storm cloud, with a small pack resting at his feet. ‘So where are these tunnels of yours? I’ve lived here all my life and never seen any.’

  Sharra nodded. ‘I think the entrances are like those in the archives – and my father’s library. They don’t open for everyone.’

  ‘You think they will open for you.’

  ‘I don’t know. I hope so.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Maven.

  ‘Gran says you caused the Shift. That’s amazing. I forgive you for taking my boat.’ Scarlet turned to her mother. ‘The mountain shivered. From nothing. One minute it was silent and strong and the next it was moving, shivering as if it was cold.’ She gave a small hysterical laugh. ‘I’ve never seen a Shift like it. It was so precise. Then came the noise, the rolling rocks, calling louder than the storm. We were far enough away to be safe, but the men beneath –’

  ‘We need to go,’ interrupted Sharra. She opened the back door. Rain and wind hit her in the face. She stepped out into the unnatural night. The wind roared, dark clouds scudded together overhead forming a giant blanket across the sky, but there was no longer lightning. The storm was either abating or taking a rest before relaunching its full violence. The salty breath of the sea filled the air.

  She climbed as fast as she could. She took the steep path that headed up the hill into the heart of the village. The wind pushed against her every step, snatching her breath and daring her to give up. Sharra didn’t look back, but she sensed the brooding presence of Maven following her out into the storm. Once she hit the top of the first rise she stopped. Shielding her eyes with her hand against the rain she turned slowly round. Maven came up close to her. The storm raged around them. His breath was hot on her ear as he whispered, ‘Lost already? This is still Frangelli.’

  There was a field to their left, at the top of the village. There was something in the field. People? She wiped the rain from her eyes. Her hands trembled with the cold. She pointed at the field and mouthed a question. Maven lowered his lips to her ear again. ‘The Five Sisters. Old Stones.’

  Sharra nodded and started towards them. She heard Maven shouting after her, but his words disappeared into the storm. He sounded angry and she didn’t have time to stop and argue.

  On a normal day it might have taken her a mere fifteen minutes to reach the field, but this day she fought for every step. She
left the village road and crossed into the field. The grass was short. Water was already beginning to pour down the field turning it to mud. But she could clearly see the stones. They were almost there.

  Sharra’s feet slid. Frantically she tried to keep her balance. Her hands clutched at empty air. She went down on her left side. Pain exploded along her arm. Sharra curled into herself on the muddy ground, water and dirt streaming around her, clutching her maimed hand. Hot tears ran down her face.

  Then Maven’s hands were under her arms pulling her to her feet. ‘Come on. This is madness. Let’s go back.’

  In answer Sharra tore herself away from him and trudged on up the hill cradling her sore hand. She could hear Maven still shouting behind her.

  She stepped into the circle of stones. The Five Sisters splayed out over a large area. She ran to the first stone and examined it. It was roughly hewn, tall, as wide as two men at the base and tapering as it climbed two feet above her. Sharra walked around it. It was free standing. It didn’t touch or lean against anything. It couldn’t possibly be a doorway. She ran over to the next stone, and the next, and the next, and the final one. All were the same, without pattern and could in no manner hide a door. Sobs built up inside her. This had to be it. It had to be.

  She turned looking for Maven. He was watching her from the centre of the circle, leaning against a large long stone. Sharra ran towards him. He bent down to her, ‘No one will say you didn’t try. The storm is calming. We can try to escape by sea.’

  And at that moment as if in answer to him the sky thundered and lightning flashed. The blaze of light illuminated his face and the stone he leaned against. There, carved into the centre, was a tree with animals scattered about it. It was old, worn and without the sudden flash of light she would not have seen it. Sharra pushed past Maven. She put her hands on to the stone. ‘Please,’ whispered Sharra. ‘Please.’ Blood from her torn hand mingled with the lashing rain. It trickled across the stone. Before her eyes the pattern seemed to change, become clearer. ‘It’s in my blood,’ she began. Then she heard a rumbling beneath their feet. ‘Get back,’ she cried, jumping back and dragging the startled Maven with her.