The Map Maker's Daughter Read online

  Sharra blushed. ‘He’s right. This isn’t anything to do with me.’

  But Teresa continued as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘Yasmeen was a romantic. One of those all for love, pretty – no, I’ll be fair, beautiful – young women, who want a strong man to whisk them up in their arms. I suppose that’s why I was so set against her. I’m very practical, so is Maven. I didn’t appreciate how much they cared for each other. I thought it was a youthful infatuation – that they would both spend their lives regretting the bond. But maybe it’s true that opposites attract. I heard her once tell Maven she loved him so much she would die for him. And she did. She went down to the harbour. She saw Maven was trapped in the rigging . . .’

  ‘Oh, she tried to save him.’ Tears welled up in Sharra’s eyes.

  ‘No. It wouldn’t have occurred to her to take action. She wasn’t the least bit decisive. No, she just stayed there. Despite Maven’s protests, she couldn’t leave him to die alone. Stupid. Stupid girl.’ Teresa turned away again. She said in a blank, flat voice. ‘She was killed. Smashed against the wall of her own home. The very beauty Maven fell in love with ruined.’ She turned back. No longer able to keep back the tears that streamed down her face she faced Sharra openly with her misery. ‘And my brother blames himself. He’s dedicated his life to finding the Map Maker who failed to warn us and to hanging him. They’ll kill him for it, of course. Two lives lost. Because one foolish romantic girl wouldn’t do as she was told.’

  ‘I couldn’t leave someone I loved to die.’

  ‘Even if that was what they wanted? Would you want someone you loved to die simply because you were going to die?’

  ‘No, of course not. If I’d have been her I’d have been trying to cut him free from the rigging, so I expect I would have died too.’ Sharra paused. ‘But maybe she was too far away?’

  ‘She broke my brother’s heart and ruined his life,’ declared Teresa bitterly.

  ‘Sharra is right,’ came Maven’s voice from behind them. Both girls spun round. He’d changed his muddy clothes and his hair was wet and tousled. He was leaning on the edge of the passageway. He looked very, very angry.

  ‘Maven,’ choked Teresa, ‘I didn’t realise you were there.’

  ‘She couldn’t have reached me in time, Teresa.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Maven. I never meant you to –’

  Maven raised a hand to silence his sister. ‘I know you never liked her, Teresa. You’re right; she didn’t have your force or your strength. Yes, she was romantic. World knows she had to be to love me.’ Maven dropped his head and swallowed hard.

  ‘Maven,’ began Teresa again. Maven looked up. His eyes glittered with tears, but he did not cry. ‘But she did love me. She loved me more than her own life. Don’t you dare call her stupid or foolish or weak because she was my strength. She was all of me that was good. She was day to my night. Without her . . .’

  Teresa rushed across to her brother and wrapped her arms around him. Maven stayed rigid in her arms for a moment. Then he bent his head and laid it upon her shoulder and wept.

  Sharra, paler than snow, clung to the edge of her seat, fighting the rising tide of fear within her. It wasn’t possible, was it? A sea change. A harbour wall. It couldn’t be the same place.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Are you asleep?’ Maven’s voice, rough in the darkness. His head was close bending over her. One side of his profile was illuminated by the glow of the dying fire.

  Sharra stirred under the unfamiliar weight of blankets. ‘Not any more,’ she murmured.

  Her eyes picked out the shadows of a small room. She was tucked on a bench bed in an alcove against a warm wall. It backed onto the kitchen. She remembered Teresa giving it to her as the warmest bed. She smiled remembering the kindness of Maven’s family and then she remembered Maven’s conversation with Teresa. She remembered about Yasmeen. And how she had finally fled from the room and not seen Maven all evening. The questions she could not ask crowded into her waking mind.

  ‘Oh, Maven –’ she began.

  ‘Don’t say anything. I wouldn’t have chosen to share my history with you, but what is done is done. You can do me the courtesy of never speaking of what you know.’

  Sharra sat up, pulling the covers around her. ‘If that’s what you want.’

  ‘It’s early. Before the tide. Gran’s awake. She says she’ll speak to us now.’

  ‘Now?’

  Maven shrugged. ‘She doesn’t sleep much any more. We’re in the kitchen.’

  He left. Sharra threw back her blankets and shivered in the pre-dawn air. Through a small window set high in the wall she could see the diminishing moonlight that was preparing to make way for the weak cold season sun. Until true dawn came it was going to be very dark.

  On the chair next to her bed lay several articles of clothing and a small pack. Gratefully Sharra stuffed her feet into two pairs of socks, before throwing on an extra tunic over one she’d been sleeping in. When she picked up her cloak she found someone had brushed all the mud from it. She wrapped it round her, pushed the extra clothes into the pack and shut the bedroom door quietly behind her.

  Maven was waiting in the kitchen, leaning against the table and eating a roll. Firelight from the embers of the range cast a weak light through the griddle, but even by this meagre illumination Sharra could see how tense Maven was; how eager he was to get away.

  ‘Hallo, dear.’ Sharra jumped. She hadn’t seen Maven’s gran sitting in a rocking chair close to the range. ‘Maven tells me you are thinking of travelling to the Oracle Isle?’

  ‘It’s something we were wondering about.’ In the cold of the early morn the enormity of the journey was beginning to strike her. ‘There are some people after me, after us. They may even want to kill us. I believe it’s because of something that happened a long time ago. Something to do with my mother.’

  Maven choked on a piece of his roll.

  The old woman stopped rocking. ‘He told me only that you wanted to speak to your mother, who had died when you were young.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You’re not a simple maidservant at a Hold, are you?’

  ‘No.’

  Maven managed to dislodge the last bits of roll with a loud cough. ‘Sharra, honestly!’

  ‘Exactly what she’s being.’

  ‘What?’ asked Sharra.

  Maven’s gran shook her head. ‘The trip to the Isle is hard and dangerous. It cannot be found unless the need is present on both sides, from both the living and the dead. Do you think your mother wants to reach you? Have you sensed her presence?’

  ‘Oh come on, Gran. I’m trying my hardest to go along with this, but if you’re going to start spouting stuff about ghosts walking our doomed world then I –’

  ‘Yes. When I’m waking, sometimes when I’m sad, I’ll feel her arms about me for a moment.’

  ‘That’s a memory,’ said Maven.

  ‘And smell her scent,’ continued Sharra ignoring him. ‘It’s been happening more often recently.’

  ‘Recently? Like since people have been trying to kill you? Of course you’re imagining her more now. You’re scared.’

  ‘Don’t be so harsh on the girl, Maven. If you have any wish to go to the Isle you’ll need help with the sailing and the only one you can take with you, if you’ve any chance of surviving, is another with a reason as strong as yours to seek the Oracle and one to whom the dead wish to speak.’

  ‘This is ridiculous. I should take you back to Milton Hold.’

  ‘Are you afraid to go?’

  ‘No, I have no fear of death.’

  ‘But you are afraid of what Yasmeen might say to you,’ said the old woman.

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘You are!’ exclaimed Sharra.

  Maven didn’t answer for a moment, then he spoke quietly. ‘I didn’t save her. I gave her my word I’d protect her. I failed.’

  ‘She chose to stay there.’

  ‘She wanted to die wit
h me. Only I didn’t die.’

  ‘That isn’t your fault! She loved you. She’d be glad you lived.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to hear that either,’ said Maven’s gran. ‘He doesn’t want to hear that Yasmeen won’t want him to throw his life away killing some poor overworked Map Maker who made a mistake.’ Maven started to protest angrily, but the old woman only raised her voice, ‘He doesn’t want to hear that Yasmeen would never want him to endanger his family through foolishly seeking revenge. He doesn’t want to hear Yasmeen doesn’t want to be avenged.’

  ‘If I don’t avenge her, what do I do, Gran? What is there left?’

  ‘Please don’t shout. You’ll wake everyone.’

  Maven pulled out a chair and threw himself into it. He buried his head in his hands.

  Maven’s gran studied them both closely. ‘I think fate has brought you two together. You’re both at decision points in your lives and you can both help each other. I’ve made no secret of the way to the Isle, but few folks ask the way and fewer still go. No one I know has ever spoken of what they’ve found. And not all have come back. Are you sure you want to go?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘To get to the Isle you aim your boat directly away from land and sail out into the sea.’

  Maven raised his head. ‘That’s it?’ he asked incredulously. ‘Half the fleet should have found it by now.’

  ‘No, your gran said you can only find the Isle if both the living and dead are willing. And that applies to everyone on board, doesn’t it?’

  Maven’s gran gave a little cackle. ‘You’re a sharp wee thing.’

  ‘But how far? How long?’ said Maven.

  ‘As far and long as it takes. You don’t go to the Isle, it comes to you.’

  ‘Why haven’t more people found it?’ asked Maven. ‘The Cult of the Oracles is so popular now that there are even followers among the Map Makers.’

  The light was just strong enough that Sharra could see the smile on the old woman’s face as she said, ‘Just because someone wants to speak to the dead doesn’t mean the dead want to speak to them.’

  ‘But you think they will speak to us.’

  The old woman nodded. ‘It seems to me that Sharra’s mother has been trying to reach her for a long time. What mother wouldn’t want to help her child out of danger? And you, Maven, you and Yasmeen, chalk and cheese, the pair of you, but with a bond between you rarely found in this life and not yet, I think, broken by death.’

  Maven stood up abruptly. ‘Coming?’ Sharra nodded. He thrust a roll and a canteen at her. ‘Breakfast. Eat it on the way.’

  As Maven closed the door behind them, Sharra felt chilled not only by the wind, but also from a sense of foreboding. She could see little of where they were and had only the sense of the house being high on the hill with the village and the fields they had crossed falling away below her. The second of the moons was disappearing below the horizon. The silver light was barely enough to see Maven’s shadow, but there was something about the slow and sombre way he locked the door and checked to ensure it was secure. ‘You’re not coming back, are you?’

  Maven turned quickly. ‘What?’

  ‘Whatever happens you’re not coming home. You’re leaving.’

  ‘There’s nothing for me here.’

  ‘But your family,’ protested Sharra. ‘Your position in the village. If I had what you have I’d never abandon it.’

  Maven came very close to her. ‘If you’d lost what I lost you would understand.’ Behind him the sun broke over the horizon shattering the darkness with pale golden light. For the first time Sharra saw Maven’s home village.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Maven, his voice changing from cold to concerned.

  ‘It can’t be . . .’ whispered Sharra.

  Maven turned. ‘Can you see someone? A rider. I see nothing. You’re not afraid of the sea, are you?’

  Sharra’s legs swayed beneath her. She sat down heavily on the porch step before she fell. ‘No, I’m not afraid of the sea.’ She looked past him along the coastline. There was no doubt in her mind it was the same place she had seen on the Map. This was the port she had redrawn. ‘It can’t be. It can’t be.’

  ‘Are you being hysterical?’ asked Maven. ‘Do I need to slap you?’

  Sharra raised her eyes to his. Tears spilled down her face. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Sobs overcame her. She lowered her face into her hands and wept.

  ‘Oh, for the world’s sake! We don’t have time for this. We’ll miss the tide.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ choked Sharra. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Maven sat down beside her. He put an arm awkwardly around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. ‘Look, I know things have been hard and my grandmother pulling all that mystic stuff was a bit much, but if there’s even a chance she’s right it has to be worth going. The worst that’ll happen is we go sailing together.’

  Sharra raised a tear-streaked face to look at him. ‘I need to tell you something,’ she began.

  ‘We don’t have time for a nice comfy chat and frankly I’m not the right person to have one with. The tide turns shortly. That means we have to be on the sea in minutes or we’ll be stuck here for the rest of the day. I can’t go on lying to my family about you. Besides Gran knows something is up.’

  Sharra grabbed his sleeve. ‘I didn’t know what I was doing. You have to believe me. I didn’t know it was possible.’ Her eyes widened in shock, ‘But he knew, my father knew, that’s what he meant about testing me for talent. That’s what he was checking for that day in the library when he told me I’d never be a Map Maker.’ She stood up, brushing off his arm. ‘Don’t you see? It’s not just me. It’s all of them. They can all do it? They can change everything.’

  Maven stood up and gave her a little shake. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about. We have to go. Now.’

  ‘I can’t believe it.’ Sharra’s eyes traced the outline of Frangelli, the exact outline she had drawn on the Map. ‘Why does no one know this?’

  ‘I really am going to slap you if you don’t start moving.’

  ‘But –’

  ‘Enough. The tide won’t wait.’

  Maven vaulted over the wall and onto a small sloop. Sharra stopped at the wall and peered over. It seemed a long way down. Looking up, Maven’s normally stern expression broke into a slight grin. He gestured to her right and a set of wooden steps that led down to the jetty where the sloop was moored.

  He has no idea what I have done, thought Sharra. She blinked back tears. The idea that she had changed the world through drawing was ridiculous, but so many things suddenly made sense; the prohibition against drawing live creatures and Clem’s dog, how it had almost come alive.

  ‘Sharra! Are you coming?’

  She looked down at his smiling face and oh please, she silently begged the world, let me be wrong. ‘Yasmeen,’ she called, ‘Yasmeen can tell us the truth.’

  The friendly look on Maven’s face vanished and he gestured for her to hurry. The wooden steps were slippery with ice. Sharra rested her hand against the hard, unhelpful stones of the wall and wished she’d had the guts to jump down to the jetty like Maven. When she finally arrived at the mooring, the sea was sparkling with light. Small waves pushed the boat gently up and down, and ahead of them the arms of the harbour curved gracefully round and out into the boundless blue. The sky was clear of cloud. Maven raised a sail. The canvas snapped in the stiff breeze.

  Sharra put her hand gingerly on the side of the boat and leaned over to climb in. As she did so the sloop bucked slightly on the rising tide. For a moment she thought she was going to end up between the boat and the jetty, crushed to death in the waters below, but with an extreme act of will she pitched herself forward and ended up in a heap on the deck.

  Maven looked at her in disbelief. ‘You don’t have any idea, do you?’

  Sharra shook her head. ‘Is there any point my explaining which is the head-sail and which is the mainsail?’ Sharra shook her head
again.

  ‘Just point me at stuff?’

  Maven rubbed his hands over his face. ‘Right. OK. I’ll tell you simply what you need to do when you need to do it. Oh for the world’s sake are you going to be sick?’

  Sharra leaned over the side of the boat and lost her breakfast. She sat back again, her hand against her clammy forehead, and groaned. ‘Is it going to be this rough all the way out?’

  ‘Rough? There’s barely enough wind to get us out of the harbour.’

  Sharra’s stomach lurched and she leaned quickly over the side again. When she’d finished she saw Maven was on the jetty holding out his hand. ‘Come on quick. I’m missing the tide.’ He had on his grimmest face. Sharra didn’t get up. ‘I’ll get used to it. You need me.’

  ‘I’m warning you I don’t have time to argue. If you’re in, you’re in.’

  ‘I’m in,’ said Sharra.

  Maven loosed the ropes from the mooring. He played out the front sail, leaning out over the side of the boat. Sharra felt the boat rise beneath her. ‘This side,’ called Maven. Sharra stumped towards him. The sloop reared up. Maven pointed to his feet. Sharra curled up below the edge of the hull. The wind whipped her hair and filled her eyes with tears. There was a sensation of movement. Spray curled over the edge of the boat and stung her face. Sharra wrapped her cloak around her and pulled her hood up. She tried to pretend she was still on dry land. Her stomach shivered as her limbs felt the butterfly trembling of the deck beneath her as it sped across the water. As the water hissed beneath them she found herself thinking, It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. Someone found my drawing. It can’t have been me, over and over again.

  After what seemed an eternity Maven nudged her with his boot. She pushed back her hood. He was now sitting on the bench that ran along the side rather than leaning back over the edge. ‘You’ll feel better if you watch the horizon.’

  ‘Are we out of the harbour yet?’

  ‘Get up and see.’

  Gingerly, Sharra edged her way onto the seat. The boat no longer lurched at a frightening angle. As she orientated herself to the gentler leaning of the sloop, Sharra managed to look through the rigging. All she could see was blue. Very carefully, with both hands gripping the back of the seat, she turned to look behind her. There was nothing but blue. ‘We’re in the middle of the ocean,’ she cried.