The Map Maker's Daughter Read online

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? Not a patch of cloud in the sky.’

  ‘I didn’t realise boats moved so quickly.’ The wind was very cold, but Maven had been right, looking out at the sea was clearing her head.

  ‘Feeling better? It’s so calm out here, we’ve almost stopped.’

  ‘Good!’

  ‘Hardly. Being becalmed at sea is the worst thing that can happen to a ship. All that water out there. You can’t drink any of it. A sloop this size can only carry so much.’

  ‘But we don’t know where we’re going!’

  ‘I’ve allowed us a week out and a week back. It’s typical of what this kind of boat would carry.’

  Sharra looked at him narrowly. ‘It’s not yours, is it?’

  ‘What? This little plaything? It’s Scarlet’s.’ He smiled wryly. ‘She’s going to be very angry.’

  ‘Hang on. A week? We have to survive out here for a week?’

  ‘Maybe less.’

  ‘But what about – well everything!’ she flushed scarlet.

  ‘There’s a bucket back there. I won’t look.’

  ‘But there’s no cabin. Where do we sleep?’

  ‘Under the spare sail. Canvas is very warm.’

  Maven took pity on her. ‘If I can find a place to moor at night I will.’

  ‘But there’s no shore!’

  ‘Supposedly the Isle of the Oracles is among an archipelago – a group of islands.’

  ‘I know what an archipelago is.’

  Maven took a deep breath. ‘There’s something I should tell you. Sailors always follow the shore.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘We’re not entirely sure where the world ends.’

  ‘You mean we could suddenly disappear into the darkness?’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Maven. ‘But I think we’d see it ahead of us.’

  ‘What! You don’t know!’

  ‘Look on the bright side. At least you don’t feel seasick any more.’

  ‘No, now, I’m feeling sick with fear.’

  The weather remained calm. A strong breeze tugged the little sloop out to sea. Maven aimed his boat directly into the blue. As time passed Sharra became more confident. There was something calming about the meeting of the flat plains of sky and sea. She only realised how afraid she had been these last few days as the fear fell away from her. No wonder she had imagined such ridiculous things. She had been overwrought, her imagination fired by fear, she’d been wrong. Sharra heaved a huge sigh of relief. It caught Maven’s attention.

  ‘You’re looking peaceful, sitting there. No more sickness? What was it you were ranting on about before we left?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Sharra. ‘Your gran spooked me.’

  Maven smiled. ‘She can do that. I should have talked to her alone. I didn’t mean her to frighten you.’

  ‘She didn’t. I thought . . . I was tired, emotional. It’s not possible. I was panicking about nothing.’

  Maven frowned. ‘You don’t strike me as someone who panics. Yelps in surprise perhaps. But you’ve a headstrong – often foolish – courage about you.’

  Sharra smiled. ‘Why thank you.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly mean it as a compliment.’ He paused. ‘I’m hungry. How about lunch?’

  ‘I’ll get it.’

  ‘I can stop. I don’t like being served by you.’

  Sharra grinned. ‘Believe it or not all Hold girls are taught to serve. It’s part of the flirtation ritual for when we’re older.’ She clapped a hand over her mouth and turned fiery red. ‘I didn’t mean I wanted to flirt with you,’ she said in muffled tones. Maven laughed. It was the first time Sharra had seen him truly happy. It only lasted a moment before the sadness returned to his face, but in that moment she saw the carefree young man he must have been. Her heart stung.

  ‘Just don’t drop it over the side,’ chastised Maven. ‘Or I’ll throw you in after it.’

  They spent most of the rest of the day in silence. Maven seemed to have no need to speak. His gaze rested contently on the horizon and Sharra found herself relaxing, all the tension seeping out of her body. Occasionally Maven asked her to pull on this rope or that.

  She built up a sense of how the boat worked and once even managed to anticipate his request. Time flowed with the waves. Sharra was surprised to realise the sun had begun its descent. They sailed on and the blue sea turned an inky black streaked with the golden rays of the setting sun.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Maven said. ‘Nightfall is sudden at sea.’

  Sharra opened her mouth to protest and the world went out. She could feel the boat beneath her, her fingers gripping the side. She could still hear and feel the wind, but she could see nothing. It was pitch dark. ‘Any moment,’ came Maven’s voice from the darkness. And then the tip of the first moon rose above the horizon bringing with it a silver light too weak to banish shadows. All colour was gone from the boat and the sea. Maven’s face, grey and pale, swam out of the darkness before her. ‘I’m going to let the sail rest until second moonrise. It’s past full, but there should be enough light by it to ensure I don’t sail us into an island.’

  ‘It’s so dark,’ breathed Sharra. ‘Does the sea absorb all the light?’

  Maven chuckled in the darkness. ‘That’s a good question. Perhaps it does. Perhaps land sends back some of the light it has captured in the day. Certainly the sea gives nothing back. But mostly, I think, it’s because there are fewer stars at sea.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Maven pointed one grey finger skywards. Sharra followed it up and gasped. She could see less than a dozen stars.

  ‘Do you think the world ends somewhere out here?’

  ‘Somewhere,’ said Maven. ‘Hopefully not too close by.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why the Isle is here. Between the world of the dead and the living.’

  ‘Do you think the dead have a world?’ Maven sounded puzzled. ‘I always hoped that death brought respite from the world’s toils.’

  ‘Nothingness?’ Sharra was shocked. ‘But don’t you want to be with the people you’ve loved?’ As soon as the words were out she could have kicked herself.

  ‘I would want them to have peace. I suppose if we’re giving in to fancy I would hope they rest easy and sleep sweet dreams of all they could wish. If the Isle of the Oracles exists I think it is a place where you can step into their dreams for a moment. All and nothing.’

  The first moon edged further above the horizon and the shadows retreated, long and thin. It was still very dark. Sharra shivered in her cloak. ‘You should rest. I’ll wake you if I need you. It’s much warmer under the sail.’ Sharra protested, but eventually agreed to lie under the sail for warmth. Within moments, she was asleep. She dreamed over and over of telling Maven what she had done and how he forgave her. But each time she knew it was only a dream.

  She awoke to bright daylight and the vibration of the boat beneath her. Immediately she felt that something was very wrong. But the boat was speeding through the water, spray washing onto the deck. Maven was leaning far out over the edge his face a mask of concentration. ‘Good, you’re awake. I think I’m going to need that sail.’

  The boat bounced over a huge wave and Maven’s body skimmed the surface of the water. ‘Yep,’ he yelled. ‘I’m going to need it. Attach the line at the base of the mast to the front eyelet.’ Sleepily Sharra struggled out from under the weight of canvas. The boat lurched again. She wedged her heels against the bench and leaned forward.

  ‘Are we in trouble?’ she asked.

  ‘Mist behind us,’ shouted Maven. ‘Fog or cloud-storm. I can’t tell.’

  Sharra clipped the line in place. ‘Done,’ she called.

  ‘I need you to check the gearing lines are clear down the inside.’ Sharra looked helplessly at the sail. There were a series of thin ropes running along one side. It looked complicated.

  ‘Unfold the sail,’ instructed Maven. ‘Left to right!’ Taking the left corner Sharra pulled gingerly. The sail open
ed out like a concertina. ‘That’s it! Start hoisting! The blue rope.’ The boat bucked again. Maven jumped to the other side of the boat, narrowly missing Sharra’s head and the sloop slewed to one side. ‘It’s changing course. Make it quick!’

  Salty spray lashed painfully at Sharra’s back. She found the blue rope. Thankfully it was tied into a winding drum, she began to turn the small wheel as fast as she could. Around her the sail rose, huge and billowing. A singing sound came from high in the rigging. ‘When I yell, duck backwards.’

  ‘What?’ yelled Sharra. The wind tore the words from her throat.

  ‘Now!’

  Sharra flung herself backwards as Maven let loose his sail. It came crashing down. Moments before it hit the deck Maven jumped across, pressed the winding drum in one smooth motion and picked up the rope for the spinning sail and flung himself far out.

  ‘Haven’t done that for a while,’ he shouted. ‘You OK?’ On her knees Sharra nodded. ‘Right. We need to fasten this sail down. No, not the fallen one. That one. I need you to unlock the central cog. The brass lever. Pull it and a platform will slide out. Good. Now you have to catch the first gearing line and wind it into the wheel. Once you’ve done that the others will follow on. It’s all attached. I can’t help I have to hold this.’

  Sharra looked around frantically. At the bottom of the fresh sail whipped a line. It was free and thin. ‘That?’ she screamed. ‘It’ll take my head off.’

  ‘Look behind,’ yelled Maven. ‘We don’t have a choice.’

  Less than two boat lengths behind them hung the mist. The waves raced beneath them and there was blue ahead. The wind was good, but so far the sloop was not fast enough.

  Sharra leapt for the line.

  Amazingly, she caught it. It struggled as if alive between her cold fingers, but somehow she held on. She fed it into the teeth on the wheel. It caught at once and began to winch in. Maven slowly played in his rope as the gearing lines caught. As the second line engaged, he dropped the rope and pulled Sharra hurriedly towards the back of the boat.

  ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘It normally takes three trained men to deploy the spinning sail.’

  ‘Spinning sail?’

  Maven gestured forward. Now fully rigged and geared the sail blossomed out into a three quarter cylinder. Caught by the small wheel on the mast platform the whole canvas spun to and fro catching as much wind as possible. The sloop flew across the water.

  Sitting huddled at the back of the boat Sharra asked, ‘Why don’t you use this all the time?’

  Maven put his arm around her to steady them both. ‘It’s only for running. You’re locked into one direction. I set the sail and now the gears take us that way as fast as they can. It maximises the wind force, but there is no ability to turn or slow. It’s for out running a cloud-storm.’

  ‘They’re that bad?’

  ‘Lightning. Down to the sea. Across the sea. From anywhere to anywhere in the clashing clouds. You don’t want to be in the middle of one.’

  ‘No,’ said Sharra trembling. ‘But we’re winning.’ Behind them the mist was now three lengths behind. ‘It could just be fog.’

  ‘Do you want to chance it? Besides, fog rolls along the sea. This. This just appeared. Whatever it is, it’s wrong.’

  A familiar dread crept over Sharra. ‘As wrong as that?’ She pointed forward. In front of them, as if someone had torn a hole in the sky, was a jagged outline of black that reached down into the very sea. ‘Because that’s where we’re heading.’ Maven didn’t reply. ‘Tell me that’s where the Isles are?’

  Maven shook his head. ‘No. We’re heading straight into oblivion.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Sharra leapt out of Maven’s arms and made for the gearing platform. The boat was at an angle, so though it was only a short step she battled to keep her balance as she leaned upwards.

  ‘No!’ cried Maven. ‘Sharra, no!’

  And he caught her round the waist. Sharra struggled to free herself. ‘I am not going into the darkness,’ she screamed against the rising wind. Rain lashed them. The water began to churn.

  ‘We can go round it. I’ll reset the sail.’

  ‘There’s no time!’ yelled Sharra. She kicked Maven hard on the instep and elbowed him in the stomach. Winded and surprised he let go. Sharra reached forward and caught the line between the fingers of her right hand. It cut them. Salt from the sea stung the wound and she let go almost at once. Behind her Maven stumbled to his feet. The fog was curving around them in a long crescent of mist. At her back she felt the cold of the darkness and felt the boat pitch as the sea began to boil on the edge of nothingness. Sharra wrapped her left hand in her cloak and reached out for the gearing line. The line at once began to slice through the cloth, but she pulled hard and quick. The line gave. It whipped out towards her. Sharra tried to evade it. She lost her footing and pitched to one side. She saw the boiling black sea coming up to reach her and knew everything was over.

  Maven grasped her tunic and dragged her back into the boat. They collapsed in a heap on the deck. They huddled there. Both of them knew there was nothing else they could do. The spinning gears were shrieking wildly. The sail flapped madly back and forth. Then suddenly it was gone, flying free out into the darkening sky like some great white bird and the gears were silent.

  The sloop slipped backwards with the current. The sea beneath them calmed, but the rain kept coming. It grew stronger and stronger until Sharra could barely see Maven’s face in front of her through the sheets of grey water. ‘Thank you,’ she gasped.

  ‘We’re in the cloud-storm.’ Maven’s voice was harsh in her ear.

  Sharra could feel herself trembling. ‘What do we do?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do, but wait. Either the lightning will find us or it won’t.’

  ‘Do people survive this?’

  Maven said nothing. He put his arm around her and wedged them both against the side of the sloop. Sharra’s hand was still bleeding. She squeezed her fingers into a fist. It didn’t matter now. ‘Earlier, it might not have been nothing,’ she whispered. ‘I need to tell you . . .’ Maven placed a finger on her lips. Sharra began to protest, but Maven shook his head, so she rested against his shoulder and waited. Her ears straining for the sound of thunder.

  It did not come. Cold, frightened and exhausted, Sharra slipped into an uneasy sleep. Maven held her close. His eyes searched the horizon looking for the tell-tale signs that catastrophe had found them.

  Sharra awoke with a jolt. The world around them was white. She could see Maven beside her and much of the interior of the boat, but little else. All the colour was faded. Maven was a white spectre in a grey cloak. The boat itself, a myriad of pale whites, browns and greys. But beyond the edge of the sloop there was nothing but white. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘We’ve run aground,’ his voice was strangely deadened.

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘I can’t see any more than you can.’

  Maven got up. Sharra was cold and stiff. Her clothes crackled with dried salt. ‘At least it’s no longer raining.’ She pushed back her hood. ‘I can’t feel any wind.’

  He put one foot on the edge of the boat.

  ‘Wait!’ cried Sharra alarmed.

  ‘We can’t stay.’

  ‘The tide will come in again . . . won’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know how far we’ve been blown out to sea. I don’t know if we’ve got enough supplies to wait around. Besides this could be it.’

  ‘The Isle?’

  Maven stepped off the side of the boat and vanished completely.

  ‘Maven!’ screamed Sharra. ‘Maven!’

  A disembodied hand reached through the wall of white towards her. ‘Ssssh,’ said Maven. ‘We don’t know what’s out here.’

  Sharra took his hand and stepped over the side. The ground beneath her feet was firm. She stubbed her toe. ‘Careful, there are steps.’

  ‘Too late.’ Sharra reached down and rubbed her
foot. ‘I can’t see a thing.’

  ‘Straight ahead of us. There’s a light.’

  In silence they continued to climb. It must have been another ten steps before Sharra picked out a faint light glimmering above them.

  Gradually, Sharra became aware of Maven as a shadowy figure beside her. The light ahead grew no brighter, but it became more distinct, a burning blue-white flame.

  The mist thinned. Sharra held up her right hand. It was covered with a mass of scabs. She worked the fingers tentatively. It hurt, but they all moved. Her gaze travelled past it and she saw the light came from a brazier at the top of a tall staircase wrapped around a stone structure. The staircase appeared to lead into a small room at the top.

  ‘It’s like a warning beacon,’ said Maven, voicing her thoughts. He looked up. His face was awash with shadow and the plains of his cheekbones stood out strongly, giving a serious cast to his face. Sharra reached out a hand to touch him, but let it fall. He was next to her and yet he was thousands of leagues away. She stepped back. ‘You should go up first.’

  Maven didn’t look at her, but he shook his head. ‘I’m not ready. You go.’

  ‘We could go together? Unless. Unless you don’t want to.’

  ‘Are you scared?’ asked Maven.

  Sharra nodded. ‘But I’m not going to turn back now.’

  ‘Neither am I. Come on.’

  He took her hand and they stepped onto the staircase together. The step was a little longer than Sharra’s foot and not terribly high, but she was suddenly aware that as she climbed there would be nothing between the outer edge of the step, with the increasing drop, and her. She took a deep breath and placed her hand on the central pillar to steady herself. It was warm under her touch. As she climbed the pillar became warmer. The sound of the flame above her increased. Sharra’s heart beat faster and faster. It sounded as loud as a drum to her ears.