The Map Maker's Daughter Read online

  ‘Oh, Clem,’ Ivory’s voice softened slightly. ‘You’re so small in that big bed Jayne must have missed you. Get dressed quickly and I’ll take you down to the kitchen to join the others.’

  ‘Thank you, Dame Mother.’

  Sharra had a sudden image of Clem opening his blue eyes very wide in his most appealing manner. The two of them left and Sharra had the dormitory to herself.

  She opened the heavy doors to the balcony. She crept over to the edge and peered down between the stone balustrades. It was a perfect vantage spot high enough to see the carriages arrive and if she stayed crouched it was almost certain no one would notice her. An icy breeze nipped at her ankles. Still, no housework and a chance to see the arrivals was worth a little discomfort.

  Below a yardman scampered across the courtyard to sweep the cobbles. Although it was still early there was already mud and dirt trodden all over the courtyard. Some of the servants’ carriages must already be in. The yardman was halfway through clearing a steaming pile of horse-dung when a rattling noise heralded another arrival. The man dodged quickly out of the way as three large carriages lumbered into the courtyard.

  Sharra recognised the Camden legend emblazoned on the carriage doors. An apprentice hurried forward and instead of her father, Gareth, appeared from beneath the portico to greet the guests.

  The horses were stamping in the cold and the servants shouted to one another as they started to unload the luggage from the coach, so she could not hear what Gareth was saying, but was doing a lot of bowing in front of a young man.

  The carriage disgorged several other men; old and young and all in the splendid travelling robes of Map Makers, scarlet and outlined with as much gold edging as they could afford, which for the most senior Map Maker was enough to make him dazzle in the morning sun. Sharra leaned over the balcony searching for Lord Camden, but he wasn’t there.

  When all the men had gone inside, the carriage moved away and the second took its place at the stone porch. Dame Ivory came out to greet the Camden women. They spilled out into the courtyard mingling and chattering. Dame Ivory was everywhere, catching falling shawls, placing kisses on cheeks and embracing the older women.

  No one came out to greet the occupants of the third carriage. The door was opened from the inside and out came young men just beginning their cartography career; clerks, apprentices and those doomed to eternal administration.

  For the rest of the day Sharra watched carriages, large and small, well geared and simple, plush and plain, unload passenger upon passenger until she was convinced that apart from Lord Camden the whole of the world and his wife was coming to Milton Hold. Despite herself she began to feel excited about the Settlement.

  Sharra was checking her supply of crackers when the door to the dormitory burst open and Ivory stormed in. Lady Milton was in full court dress, with her long white-blonde hair loose down her back and wearing the finest of her jewelled, ice-blue robes.

  ‘Dame Ivory,’ stuttered Sharra. ‘I didn’t –’

  Dame Ivory waved an impatient hand. ‘I don’t have time for your excuses, Sharra. What are you wearing tonight?’

  Sharra looked down at her brown common dress, confused.

  Dame Ivory stamped one highly embroidered slipper. ‘World forefend, child! You need to be in court dress for dinner.’

  ‘I thought I was meant to be keeping out of sight?’

  ‘All the Milton children are expected on the eve before Settlement begins.’ Ivory’s eyes ran scathingly over Sharra’s wind tangled hair. ‘Do try and do your father credit for once. He sent this for you to wear.’ She held out a long silver chain with a polished blue pendant. ‘Come on, take it, girl and hurry!’

  And with that Dame Ivory was gone. Sharra examined the stone in awe. It was midnight blue, but as it was tilted to the light within its depths shone tiny stars of gold and silver.

  A bare twenty minutes later she was hurrying down to the Great Hall, in a court dress of dark blue, her hair twisted quickly into a silver net and the chain clasped safely around her neck. She hadn’t been able to find her court slippers, but the dress was long enough that she hoped no one would notice.

  She stepped into the long corridor. The bell to signal the beginning of the evening sounded. No one else was around. They must already be at the Great Hall. Trust Ivory to tell her too late. She looked quickly up and down the corridor to make completely sure it was clear and then opened the door to the winter courtyard. It would mean using the Grand Entrance, but hopefully everyone had arrived by now. The second moon had risen, full and bright. Sharra lifted up her skirt and ran out into the frost-covered world.

  Grass blades crunched beneath her feet, and her breath appeared in little clouds. The night was sharp and the stars clear and bright. In the embrace of night the gardens became a different world. All colour was lost to the shadows. Sharra felt her heart begin to beat faster. The dread that had crept over her last night stole into the corners of her mind. She told herself she was too old to be scared of the dark, but she couldn’t quite push the uneasiness away. It was with relief that Sharra slipped through the porter’s door next to the Grand Entrance and into the safety of the inner porch.

  ‘Harrbourgh Farm?’

  Her father’s voice echoed out across the Entrance Hall.

  ‘Harrbourgh Farm gone?’

  He sounded angry and she was late. Another voice, soft and low, answered her father. She couldn’t make out the words. If only they’d move on. Into an office. Then perhaps she could still make it to her table before her father entered.

  ‘The farmhouse?’ her father’s voice rose in disbelief. ‘How is this possible?’

  As Sharra listened her anxiety grew. Something terrible had happened. Her heart began to race. She pushed her hand against her chest, willing it calm. She was certain she hadn’t made a sound, but her father called out, ‘Sharra? Is that you?’

  She came forward expecting serious censure. Now she could see the man properly she recognised him as the one who had held her horse when she ran into the village hall with the Maps. He nodded to her, but his face was hollow with shock. Her father was dressed in the full dress robes of the Milton family, gold and blue with the heavy chain of office around his neck. His eyes met hers and Sharra felt a shiver of connection. She lowered her gaze and awaited his anger.

  ‘I got the Maps to Harrbourgh in time, Father.’

  ‘What?’ Milton’s voice was hot with fury. ‘What were you doing with Maps?’

  ‘Messenger lost his horse, my lord,’ interrupted the farmer. ‘She brought them to us in the nick of time. It weren’t her fault the Maps was wrong.’

  ‘Wrong? Wrong? What do you mean – wrong?’ exclaimed Milton. He whirled to face Sharra. ‘Run to Gareth’s office and fetch me the large red ledger marked Harrbourgh. Don’t just stand there girl, go. I know you know where Gareth’s office is. You’re always round there begging for paper for your journal. Now run!’

  Sharra’s feet obeyed long before her mind registered what was happening. Her father had asked her to fetch him a ledger as if she was one of his men. What’s more he knew about her journal. Thank the world he thought it was for words.

  She pelted down the corridor, right, left, right again and through the double brass doors that led to the cartography halls. The floors ceased to be slate and became polished marble forcing Sharra to slow down or risk falling. Around her the twisted ivy carved columns rose, outlining glimpses of the open salons where the copyists worked at long tables. Normally, the first hall was buzzing with life. Junior clerks running backwards and forwards with changes to Maps and copyists cursing the endless revisions. Tonight she saw two men working under the limpid yellow pool of a candle prism-lantern. At once she felt drawn to their Map. Resolutely she kept her eyes down and tried to soften her footsteps as she passed them, but neither looked up.

  She passed into the messenger stations, row upon row of open lockers and empty map-bags. Not a soul in sight. This far into th
e halls she was, if not encouraged, tolerated. Ahead of her, through the great blackwood doors, lay the Inner Halls where the Hold’s most important Maps were kept and redrawn – forbidden terrority.

  She pushed the left door slowly open. Ahead of her stretched the mosaic floor, squares of black and white tiles alternating. Above, the spectacular gold vaulted ceiling showed patterns of stars that no longer existed or had never been. It was a stunning display of wealth and resource. It made her feel small and insignificant exactly as she knew it was meant to do. Immediately to her right was the door into Gareth’s office.

  Sharra stood looking down the corridor for one long moment to the main Cartography Hall. For most of her life she had tried to imagine what that inner chamber, the heart of the Hold, was like and now . . .

  She took one faltering step and stopped. Her father had trusted her. She wanted so much to go forward, but she couldn’t. He would never trust her again.

  She opened the door into Gareth’s study. It was as cluttered and untidy as ever. A strange, dusty, stuffed bird stared solemnly down from a high pedestal by the door. It looked a little like Gareth. The desk was piled high with ledgers, but only one was red. Sharra picked it up. Her eyes drifted towards the door at the back of the room. It wasn’t the main Cartography Hall. It was only her father’s office. She’d been in there many times, but never alone. One peek? She’d have to be quick.

  She turned the door handle and stepped in quickly. The room looked the same as ever. Sharra felt guilty and disappointed in equal measure. She darted over to her father’s desk. It was covered in Maps, none of which she recognised. Boldly, she opened the top drawer and to her astonishment saw a drawing of a young girl’s face. She sank down onto her father’s chair and lifted the page with trembling fingers. The resemblance was too clear to be mistaken; it was her as a small girl. Sharra dropped the page, slammed the drawer shut and ran from the room.

  ‘How many lost?’ her father was asking.

  ‘None, my lord. They was lucky. The south gable came down and woke them. They only had minutes mind. Margaret, the wife, she’s a quick thinking one, she pushed her husband out the window and threw the kiddies down to him before jumping herself. Sprained her ankle something bad, but as for what might have been, it was no bad thing.’

  ‘No.’ Milton held out his hands to Sharra for the ledger. He began to flick rapidly through the pages. ‘And you say the black fire stopped by the farm boundary. No sign of extension?’

  ‘If anything it’s shrinking, sir.’

  ‘Good. Good.’ Milton opened the page and blinked rapidly. ‘My seal.’ He traced his fingers down the page. Then he stopped and went over one section again. ‘Map of the Creator,’ he cried, slamming the ledger shut. ‘This was Gory’s responsibility –’

  Stopped short by the farmer’s puzzled gaze, Milton continued in a quieter, but firm voice. ‘Send the family to the Hold. We’ll provide for them this winter.’

  The man gripped his hands together as if summoning courage. ‘There’s no stone spare in the village to build for them, my lord. They’ll have no shelter come summer.’

  Milton reeled. ‘Nothing left?’

  The man shook his head. ‘We’ve been hit bad these last few Shift though I know we’ve been luckier than most. You’ve always managed to tell us about the worst ones, so it’s buildings rather than people that have been lost but . . .’

  Milton nodded. ‘You’re running low on stone. I’ll speak at the Settlement for more stone to be allocated to you, but what with the Shift up north quarrying is going to be very limited this year.’

  The man’s shoulders drooped. ‘I know, my lord.’

  ‘I’ll support the family’s right to be put high on the stone register myself. I’ll do my best to see they will not suffer.’

  The man murmured something.

  ‘No. It will not happen again. You will have new Maps by the morning. Go to the kitchens. Say I sent you. Take something for yourself and the dispossessed.’

  The farmer bowed slightly. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said and retreated towards the kitchen. Sharra waited, awkwardly, hoping her father would notice her. But Lord Milton seemed to be looking far beyond her.

  ‘Clerk!’ bellowed her father suddenly. ‘Clerk, I say!’ He marched over to one of the hall bells and began to ring it.

  ‘Can I help, Father?’ she asked, but Milton paid her no attention.

  A door opened and three young clerks came out. Orders ran off her father’s tongue. ‘Find me Gareth, Wayland and Morris. Assemble me a team of copyists. Advise Dame Ivory that the nature of a new Shift demands my immediate attention and I shall join my guests as soon as I can. We hold back death!’

  The clerks saluted and departed in different directions.

  ‘Damn and blast that wretched man,’ exclaimed her father. ‘On tonight of all nights. I won’t be happy until he’s out of my Map rooms.’

  ‘So why don’t you throw Gory out?’ asked Sharra.

  Milton started. ‘I’d quite forgotten you were there.’

  ‘Why don’t you get rid of Gory if he’s that bad?’

  For a moment Sharra thought her father was going to explode with anger, but suddenly he looked old and tired. ‘Ah, Sharra, I shouldn’t have said that.’

  ‘Why? Isn’t it true?’

  ‘It’s true Gory is not a good Map Maker, but my seal was at the end of the page. He’d say that he thought it unnecessary to check my work.’

  ‘Did you make a mistake?’

  Milton shook his head. ‘I would never do work and then assign it to Gory to check. It would be a waste of resources. He would never catch anything I missed and we are so short of Map Makers that I must make full use of anyone with ability.’

  ‘Except if they’re female.’

  Her father ignored this and continued, ‘No, someone has deliberately tampered with our work. On the eve of Settlement and the election.’ Milton’s face contorted in anger. ‘How can there be hope for any of us when Map Makers sacrifice lives for political gain?’

  Sharra cringed at her father’s anger. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m sorry. These are not things that should concern you. You must forget this conversation and trust me to make things right.’

  ‘And Gory?’

  ‘Gory is your step-mother’s cousin and therefore related to most of the Camdens. I can’t afford to alienate the Camden’s further if I am to have any chance of returning to the Central Archive.’

  ‘But Lord Camden isn’t even here!’

  Milton’s face broke into a smile. ‘So that’s what you were doing this morning! Ivory said you had dodged the house duties. I’m relieved to hear you are taking an interest in the Settlement. It won’t be long before you are old enough to enter the diplomatic service of the Hold. Watching our guests arriving will stand you in better stead than learning to dust.’

  ‘So you’re not angry?’

  ‘Not too angry. I will need you even more now with Ivory’s plans for Jayne nearing completion.’

  ‘What plans?’

  ‘You’ll know soon enough. Just remember Ivory wants the best for her daughter. Now I must get to the Cartography Halls and see things are done correctly.’

  Sharra sensed the change in his mood. He was focused again. ‘Go tidy yourself up and find some proper shoes. Your skirts can’t hide your footprints, Sharra.’

  Sharra crept into one of the visitor sluice rooms and straightened her hair. She checked to see if anyone had left slippers in the locker, but the only ones there were bright yellow and several sizes too large. Her stomach rumbled. Sharra made her way to the children’s entrance, tugging at her skirt and walking carefully to hide her boots. An attendant ushered her quickly and quietly to her seat without fuss. The meal was in full swing. She speared a chunk of meat and began to work on catching up with the other diners. Then she secured a good quantity of tubers. In honour of the Settlement foods that were normally preserved and picked for the winter were
being eaten fresh. These were wonderfully crunchy.

  Waiting in the Cartography Halls, Gory slipped Milton’s seal back into place. As he finished fastening the complex locks, to which only Milton Map Makers had the keys, he heard the sound of the footsteps hurrying towards him. He stood up quickly and made for the side door. If he timed this right he should be able to get to the banquet and avoid Milton. Closing the door behind him he heard Gareth commanding an apprentice to bring him the seal box. He made his way quickly along the darkened corridors. In his head he went over and over his plan, looking for leads back to him. It might make Milton suspect his own, but as long as he was considered above suspicion a little chaos and confusion would not be a bad thing.

  ‘You’re late,’ Ivory’s voice in the darkness startled him. ‘Is Milton in the Map Room still?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been reading in my study. I quite forgot the time.’

  Ivory smiled a thin smile. ‘I have been sent a message saying Shift demands the Lord’s attention, so I have been looking for you to deputise at the banquet.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Considering the future links between Milton and Camden it seems quite fitting, don’t you think?’

  ‘Ah that.’ Gory took a deep breath. ‘I’ve been thinking about matters and I rather think it would not be in anyone’s interest for me to take Jayne as my wife at this time.’

  Ivory’s eyes grew hard. ‘What are you talking about, Gory? We have spent months completing the details. This is a most advantageous match for you and I believe Jayne is quite positively inclined towards you.’

  ‘I thought we had agreed I would be the one to tell her of her change in status!’

  ‘I have said nothing. Are you telling me you wish to postpone the marriage? I warn you it took me all my powers of persuasion to get Milton to consent to it.’

  ‘I’m surprised he did. He likes me as little as I like him.’

  ‘Jayne is my daughter, not his. Now come, Gory, what is this foolishness about?’