by Perrin Briar
“How?” Bryan said.
“If these people do such an important job, making maps that if they fell into the hands of the enemy could prove disastrous, don’t you think they would be hidden away?” Zoe said. “What’s the best way of hiding someone without having to use valuable resources?”
“I don’t know,” Bryan said.
“Think,” Zoe said. “You’d hide them in plain view.”
“Huh?” Bryan said.
“That makes sense,” Cassie said. “Right under everyone’s nose without them knowing.”
“I fail to see how this helps us,” Bryan said.
“They’ll look normal and do common jobs,” Zoe said.
“Right,” Cassie said. “They won’t be body builders or fighters. They’ll be artistic. They’ll do creative things.”
“So, we don’t want to ask about cartographers,” Zoe said. “No one would tell us about them even if they knew something. It’ll only draw attention to us, and they won’t tell us anything. We want to ask about artists. People like that.”
She took Cassie’s face in her hands and kissed her on the forehead.
“Cassie, you’re a genius!” she said. “Aaron feels closer already.”
Cassie wiped the kiss away.
“Thanks,” Cassie said. “I don’t like to brag.”
They came to a man with a terrible combover. He stood with a cardboard box of fruit at his feet. He was attempting to flog the (obviously stolen) fruit.
“You look like a healthy fellow,” Fruit Seller said to Bryan. “Would you care for some fruit? Freshly picked this morning.”
Pick-pocketed more like, Bryan thought. He bent down to pick up the fruit. He squeezed it, checking its firmness. They’d been dropped and squashed, badly bruised.
“This is quality produce,” Bryan said.
“Wait till you try my plums,” Fruit Seller said. “The biggest you’ve ever laid your eyes on, I swear.”
“Should I leave you two alone for a little quiet time?” Zoe whispered in Bryan’s ear.
“Perhaps you can help me,” Bryan said to Fruit Seller.
“I’m sure he can,” Zoe mumbled under her breath.
Bryan poked her savagely in the ribs.
“We’re looking for a talented artist,” he said. “We need him to do a landscape mural.”
“Landscape…” Fruit Seller said. “Landscape… Nope. Can’t say I know any landscape artists.”
“Or an artist of any type, really,” Bryan said.
Fruit Seller scratched his head, gradually becoming aware this customer had next to no interest in his merchandise.
“The only person I can think of who might be interested is a fella who paints ceramics,” he said. “You know, cups and plates. Those kinds of things.”
Bryan’s breath froze in his throat. Fruit Seller pursed his lips and then shook his head.
“Nah, on second thought I don’t think he’d be much interested in a big thing like that,” he said. “Forget I said anything.”
“I can’t forget it!” Bryan said, before comporting himself. “Do you know where he lives?”
“Sure,” Fruit Seller said. “Right behind you.”
24
THE SHOP was small and looked like something from a Dickens novel. The glass was not made with the modern method, and warped the color and shape of items inside. Not the ideal material for customers to peer through at the artwork on sale.
“I don’t get it,” Bryan said. “Why wouldn’t the king put guards on this guy? If he knows what the map of the kingdom looks like, I would keep him surrounded by guards day and night.”
“There are two ways to protect something,” Zoe said. “The first is to surround the subject with guards. It means everyone knows where he is and how many men are protecting him. It turns him into a target. The second is for him to hide under everyone’s nose. And maybe, some of the locals here know he’s the cartographer and keep an eye on him. They might even be undercover guards. That way you get the best of both worlds.”
“Great,” Bryan said, checking over his shoulders. “That really fills me with confidence.”
The family stood watching the shop for twenty minutes. It didn’t seem to garner a great amount of foot traffic. Art shops appeared to be about as popular underground as they were on the surface.
“We should be okay,” Bryan said. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Zoe said. “What about the people watching it?”
“There might not be anybody watching him,” Bryan said.
“Best to be safe,” Zoe said.
“The chances are this guy isn’t who we’re looking for anyway,” Bryan said. “But he might be able to help point us in the right direction.”
The family crossed the road, Zoe painfully aware of the eyes she imagined to be on her that very moment. Bryan pushed the door open, causing a little bell to chime.
An old man with tired eyes looked up from the counter. He’d clearly been sleeping. Exactly like the surface, Bryan thought.
“Good afternoon,” the old man said. “Please, come in.”
His voice verged on desperation. He probably hadn’t seen a customer in years, Bryan thought. Shelves ran along each wall at various heights. On them were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of items. The majority were little ceramic animals, painted in a careful hand with a fine brush. Other common items included individual plates, the sort used for the purpose of being displayed, not for dining.
“What kind of thing are you looking for?” the old man said.
“Oh,” Bryan said. “Something for my aunt. It’s her birthday next week.”
“If you’ll come over here, you’ll see a selection of our finest items for the mature lady,” the old man said.
“Thank you,” Bryan said, approaching the proffered shelf.
Zoe and Cassie spread out, covering a different shelf each. Bryan could see many of the items sported the same design. It resembled a city seen from the air, what a cartographer might draw, but disguised enough by style so it wasn’t openly obvious.
“Did you paint all these yourself?” Bryan said.
“Yes,” the old man said.
“They’re very beautiful,” Bryan said.
“Thank you,” the old man said.
He picked one of the items up—a lady figurine in a nineteenth century dress.
“This is one of our biggest sellers,” he said. “I’ve yet to hear of an auntie who disliked it.”
“Yes,” Bryan said. “I can see why. It’s very pretty.”
“Where are you from?” the old man said. “I’m trying to locate your accent, but can’t quite get a handle on it.”
“The East Islands,” Bryan said without thinking.
“The East Islands?” the old man said with a subtle shake of his head. “I’ve travelled the East Islands, and you don’t have their accent.”
“I’m from an obscure coastal village,” Bryan said.
“An obscure coastal villager isn’t likely to know the word ‘obscure’,” the old man said.
“You must have gone to the East Islands often to be able to recognize regional accents,” Bryan said, turning the situation back on him.
“Not really,” the old man said, looking away. “I just have an ear for those kinds of things.”
“An artist and an ear for sounds,” Bryan said. “Some of us are born with all the gifts.”
The old man smiled, but it looked distracted. He cast a look over at Zoe and Cassie, who had finished looking over their shelves. They moved down each narrow aisle. Bryan wished it didn’t look so much like sharks coming to feed, but that was exactly what was happening.
The old man must have sensed something was up because next he said: “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“We haven’t asked all the questions we need answers to yet,” Bryan said.
The old man backed away, tripping over his own feet. He fell in slow motion. He seemed used to
the movement, tucking his elbows in and letting his shoulder take the brunt of the impact.
“Are you okay?” Bryan said, reaching down to help him up.
“I don’t know,” the old man said. “Am I?”
“We’re not here to hurt you,” Bryan said.
“Then what are you here for?” the old man said.
“We have some questions about the maps you work on,” Bryan said.
“Maps?” the old man said with a chuckle that sounded forced. “The only things I paint are the things you see here. No maps. Please leave before I shout and call for the police.”
“Zoe, Cassie,” Bryan said. “Get the shutters, please.”
They pulled on the strings, lowering the slats over the windows. They locked the front entrance and blew out the candles, save the one at the back of the shop.
“I realize this must seem frightening,” Bryan said.
“What do you want?” the old man said with a quiver in his voice.
“We have need of the map of the British empire,” Bryan said.
“I told you-” the old man said.
“And we would like you to reconsider,” Bryan said. “You see, not so long ago we were captured by a pirate named Stoneheart. He took one of us hostage so the rest of us could find the treasure. And the only way we can do that is to get hold of the map. The British half. You see, Stoneheart is convinced it’s on this side of the world, and he won’t stop till he finds it.”
“Then what are you doing here?” the old man said.
“You’re a cartographer,” Bryan said.
“I’m an artist,” the old man said.
“Times are tough,” Bryan said. “You have to diversify. I can understand that.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you,” the old man said. “Even if I was who you think I am, which I’m not, I couldn’t give you the map. It would be treason. If you leave now, I’m sure you can continue your search elsewhere.”
Bryan knelt before the old man, joining him on the floor. The old man shied away, unsure of Bryan’s intentions. Bryan reached up and took a plate off its stand. The old man just stared, terrified Bryan would hit him over the head with it. Instead, Bryan showed him the picture.
“Your skills give you away,” he said. “Your style is similar to that of cartographers on the surface.”
“It’s… It’s my natural style,” the old man said.
Bryan sighed.
“Please sir,” he said. “I’m begging you. Help us.”
A lull in the conversation tugged the worst of the old man’s fear under the surface. A gentle knock came on the door.
“They’re here,” Zoe said.
“They?” the old man said. “They who? Why would someone knock on the door?”
“Because someone is watching your shop, to keep you safe,” Zoe said. “It’s nearing closing time, and someone will have noticed we came in here but haven’t left yet.”
“Guards?” the old man said, turning pale. “They know you’re here?”
The gentle knock came again.
“You need to tell them everything is fine,” Zoe said.
The old man looked even more afraid of guards than these strangers in his shop. Zoe took the old man’s head in her hands.
“Listen to me,” she said. “You can do this.”
“If they think I told you anything…” the old man said.
“You haven’t told us anything,” Zoe said. “We’ll tell them as much. But if you can help us… My son was taken from me by Stoneheart. He says he’s going to kill him if we fail to get the British map. That’s why we’re here. Why we need your help.”
“Your son?” the old man said, blinking. The news seeming to focus his attention. “He was taken from you?”
“Yes,” Zoe said. “I can get him back, but I need your help. You have to speak to the guards, maybe let them inside to see everything’s fine. You will tell them we left earlier. Make a few jokes.”
“I don’t make jokes,” the old man said.
“Okay,” Zoe said. “Just tell them how you normally would. That’s good. Don’t make them suspicious.”
The handle was depressed from the outside but met the lock. Someone sure wanted to get inside.
“How old is your boy?” the old man said.
“Fourteen,” Zoe said.
“Fourteen,” the old man said distantly.
“Can you do that?” Zoe said.
“Yes,” the old man said, gaining in confidence. “Yes, I can do that.”
“We’re not bad people,” Zoe said. “I promise you. We’re good people. You have nothing to fear from us.”
“Okay,” the old man said.
“Thank you,” Zoe said.
“Get behind the counter,” the old man said with a confidence he didn’t feel.
He couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, couldn’t believe how steady his voice was. His heart was beating like a drum.
A loud knocking from a fist came on the door. The old man straightened his shirt, took a gulp of cold tea that sat on his counter, and reached for the door handle. His hand was shaking like he had Parkinson’s.
25
CARTOGRAPHER UNFASTENED the chain and opened the door a crack. He peered through the gap.
There was no one there.
He peered left to right, but still couldn’t find anyone there. He shut the door, believing himself to have dodged a bullet. Then he thought better of it.
Assuming it had been a guard, there would be protocols, a system in place to ensure correct procedure. More guards would come. Where would that leave him then?
He opened the door and leaned out. A departing back was hurrying away from the shop.
“Excuse me?” the old man said, calling after the figure.
The figure didn’t hear him and kept moving away. Cartographer cleared his throat and stepped outside.
“Excuse me?” he said, louder this time.
The figure paused and turned on her heel. Her eyes widened at the sight of Cartographer standing there. She took a few steps toward him. The guard, if that was what she was, wasn’t ever meant to be seen by those she was watching. It was against protocol, and she would undoubtedly be reassigned now her cover was blown.
“Uh, hi,” the woman said.
“Did you knock on my door earlier?” Cartographer said.
“Yes,” the woman said. “I wanted to buy something for my mother and thought I would look around your shop. But I see you’ve closed early.”
“It was a slow day,” Cartographer said. “Decided to call it quits and shut up early.”
The woman nodded, as if waiting for something.
“Would you like to take a look around?” Cartographer said.
“Would you mind?” the woman said.
“Not at all,” Cartographer said.
He pushed the door open and held it for her so she might step inside.
“Let me put some lights on,” Cartographer said. “You won’t be able to see much otherwise.”
Cartographer lit some candles, giving the shop a magical atmosphere. The woman probed at the items, but seemed to keep a closer eye on the rest of the shop than the items she was meant to be looking at.
“What kind of thing are you looking for?” Cartographer said. “Something for your mother, you said?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “Any ideas? You have so much to choose from.”
“The items on this shelf tend to be very popular with the older female market,” Cartographer said, gesturing to a series of items sporting flower patterns.
“You do beautiful work,” the woman said.
“Thank you,” Cartographer said.
“I noticed some customers enter earlier,” the woman said. “Is there a backdoor out of here?”
“No,” Cartographer said with a nervous smile. “Just the one. They went out earlier. You must have missed them.”
“Yes,” the woman said. “I suppose I must hav
e.”
Her expression was unreadable, and that made Cartographer even more nervous.
“You look nervous,” the woman said.
“I’m just tired,” Cartographer said. “It’s been a long day.”
“I thought it’d been quiet all day?” the woman said.
“It was,” Cartographer said. “Sometimes those are the longest days. Nothing to keep you distracted.”
“I hear that,” the woman said.
She cast one more look around the shop and seemed to find nothing of concern.
“I’m afraid I can’t find anything my mother would fall in love with,” she said. “Perhaps I can come back tomorrow and have another look?”
“By all means,” Cartographer said.
He led her to the door. She stepped out, walking away from him. The old man felt a sudden sharp pang of apprehension. If he wanted help, to be rescued from the strangers taking refuge in his shop, he ought to do it now, before the woman was gone.
But he didn’t say a word.
The young lady’s imploring green eyes had left a lasting impression on the old man, her pleading tones to help get her son back had resonated with him on a deep level. He might never see his son again, but she might see hers.
He locked the front door and moved to the back of the shop. He whispered to the three family members crouched there.
“Okay,” he said. “You can come out now.”
“Thank you for doing that,” Bryan said.
“You’re welcome,” Cartographer said. “Just make sure I won’t regret it.”
“That really depends on you,” Bryan said.
The tide of apprehension reared up inside the cartographer once again. He wondered just what he was letting himself in for.
26
CHIEF ENGINEER peered out the corner of his eye at Admiral for the third time since he’d been handed the blueprints. The question of where he had come across such plans was written plainly on his features, but it did not make the successful journey to his lips.
Chief Engineer was a middle-aged rotund fellow with snow white hair and a bushy white moustache that hid both his lips. At least, Admiral had assumed he had lips under there. It was hard to know if you hadn’t seen them before. He was something of an engineering prodigy, the only man in the entire kingdom capable of carrying out his task.