Now here. Your heart tears.
I’m afraid, Aoife.
You didn’t deserve his honesty even though you had earned it. His vulnerability was what brought him to you. He trusted you. He desired but also loved you. You wanted what no ordinary woman could have and he was able to give. Influence, intercession. Your life existed as it did because of him. He never once took advantage or liberties. He wanted to. You could tell in his eyes what he wanted. Good, decent, charming Wyl.
What did you do? You didn’t console him. No, you pressed your breasts to his back and wrapped your arms around his neck. You let him untwine you and lead you to sit on his thighs. You let him hold you. | why had this taken so long? | You wanted to grab him by the throat and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. | would you know how to do that? | Instead, you sat with his flesh bone heart under your palm. His mouth was on your temple until asked he:
Tell me. You would know. Is there a map to where the dragon lives?
Of course not, you said.
WYL’S PHYSICAL STATURE SUGGESTED POWER, ACTION, AND CONFIdence, but he was guileless, almost innocent. He was a man who meant no harm. | do you love him now, too long later, too late? | You believed his decency was his saving grace. You feared it was also a weakness. He had hardly traveled outside of his kingdom. You had less so, only across the river, only for a day, night, and morning.
On impulse, you gave Wyl the amulet. You told him anyone who held it was promised safety. When he asked from where it came, you claimed it was an old gift. When he asked where he should begin his journey, you suggested he start east. You could say no more because you knew nothing else. You didn’t send him to the people across the river. You wouldn’t risk their seclusion. As it was, you felt your actions violated an unspoken promise.
You said he would likely have to ask directly about the dragon that guarded a great hoard. He’d learn soon enough, wouldn’t he, if the dragon was a lie.
Wyl had no choice but to quest. The King understood it was wise to go with what the people had chosen. That was their tradition, the power they were allowed to wield. Honor it. His younger brother’s zeal was manic and infectious. Raef took great delight in the danger his brother would face, although he didn’t acknowledge any peril. Big brother, find the treasure and make us rich! said he at a crowded dinner one evening. You wondered what had gotten into him.
So the King agreed to send his favorite son on a quest to find a dragon. What a farce, you thought. Yet there it was.
You kissed Wyl goodbye in private. A kiss that threatened to wear through woven cloth and leather. You had such a good excuse, didn’t you? The next morning, you watched him leave surrounded by a cheering crowd.
You returned to your work. You still thought to avail yourself elsewhere once Wyl married. You were of a rare breed, a highly skilled prize. Another kingdom might be bold enough to risk you. Despite your feminine face and shape, you pondered whether you could live as a man. You dressed and carried yourself like one as it was. Until then, you considered training apprentices. You could not ponder the obvious alternative.
Then one morning, you awoke without a doubt of what you’d do that day. You dressed, ate breakfast, packed a satchel with necessities, readied a horse, and rode east.
You wanted to find the truth of the dragon for yourself. If it didn’t exist, you would have a grand adventure and determine where a skilled mapmaker might chart a new part of the world.
Some might think you meant only to find Wyl. Much had been made of the fact that there was no reliable map to where he was headed. One might presume you a guide. Others would have another opinion. You knew what talk would be of you and Wyl. There were speculative witnesses about you two. There was no hiding what Wyl had done for you. The tower, the boat. Some might have assumed you repaid him with more than loyal service. You didn’t care much. The assumption served in your favor. Was it not amorous that you would chase after your presumed lover?
The dragon was your reason, you told yourself. Wyl was your excuse. Deep down, you acknowledged the possibility that you would somehow find him. Nothing would be familiar. No one would know you. All rules could be broken.
YOU HAD DEVELOPED SELF-RELIANCE DURING THOSE MAPMAKING years. You didn’t expect the crew to tend your every need or demand. If you could lift, untie, secure, kill, gather, fetch, or handle it, you did. They offered their help but didn’t insist. They respected, even admired, your tenacity.
In spite of this, you worried how you would take care of yourself on the journey. You realized you would be without the protection of the crew. Although they left you alone, you were never wholly unguarded. You secretly resented this, although it gave you comfort. You knew they concerned themselves about you, a woman alone in the company of men. They had their instructions from the King, no doubt, no doubt from others. You surmised punishments awaited them if harm or insult befell you. On the roads, you never led. In the open, when a camp was necessary, you slept surrounded. A woman can suffer greater pains than death.
The clothing you wore was meant to obscure. This you had chosen on your own to avoid undue attention. You had a cloak made with shoulders padded thick and wide. You had mannish boots on your feet for all the trudging you did. More often than not, you slipped into shirts and leggings. A prudent costume.
On the morning you left, you had your own money earned in service to the King. You mounted your strong, reliable horse. You gathered your wits and off you went to see whether a little girl had told the truth about a dragon and a hoard.
You had nothing to lose except your life.
On the journey, the connection you had to that life, and its alternatives, began to disintegrate. You had no inclination to become what every woman you knew became. A wife, mother, domestic. You didn’t begrudge them their roles if they were freely chosen. Yet who can choose freely when the options are few? Yes, you supposed you could have become a matronly scholar. That wasn’t barred to you. That might well be how you would have found some tolerance with your life, had circumstances been different. Had Ciaran not given a name to the drawing you made naturally. Had your father not put you in the proximity of maps drawn to organize and capture the world. Had Wyl not taken you seriously when you said what you wanted to learn. Had the King not given you a chance and found you worthy to serve. Had Heydar not accepted you as his apprentice.
Now, tell the truth. You were not so different from other women. Your life depended on the favor of men. Your freedom was an illusion that you dared to dream.
ONLY DAYS AFTER THE START OF YOUR JOURNEY, YOU STOPPED FOR A meal in a village at a busy post. It was one stop among several along a main trade route. You and another traveler sat down across from each other at a large table. Bowls of hearty stew steamed below the nods of your heads. You noticed salt in a small bowl with a tiny wooden spoon. You didn’t reach over. Instead, you asked that the salt be passed. You also pointed. It was possible you wouldn’t know the other’s language. The seasoning came to your hand. You said, Thank you, and the person replied, in your tongue in a strange accent, You’re welcome.
Another glance, and you knew. You both wore men’s clothing but neither filled such skin. She had a large bag next to her, a satchel covered in dozens of pockets with buckles for closures. She asked if you were traveling far. Yes, you said. You assumed it was customary not to say too much and that your response was enough. However, she began to speak.
One carries more than a load on the roads, said the traveler.
Then she told you a tale. She knew nothing of your quest. There was no indication from your clothing, bearing, or words. Yet these are the words she said to you.
An old woman once told me a story.
Once, there was a tribe of seers who lived deep in the forest of a great kingdom. It was rumored that they possessed writings about the whereabouts of the scarlet dragon and its secrets. Although many tried to get answers, the tribe refused to share with anyone. The tribe was stricken by a terrible illness, and a
ll died save one. She was a girl when her parents died, and because she was so accustomed to living in the forest, she never left. She rarely entered the village except to barter. She lived in her family’s tidy hut all alone except for the animals who kept her company. During the day, she worked the land with her father’s tools. At night, she sorted and sewed by candlelight next to the small mirror her mother once prized.
Now, it is said that the young prince hunted wild boars in that forest and came to know this orphan. As unlike as they were, they became fast friends. He made sure she was never hungry or cold, while she made sure that he always left her company with a jolly heart.
Their joy was not to last, as all joy cannot. The prince grew to be a strong young man. Soon he would leave for his quest. That was when the visions began. The orphan’s dreams were filled with his blood, running thick from cuts drawn by the dragon’s claws. She told him of these dreams, and he laughed. He was a valiant prince. He was destined to rule his land. If he died, it would be the will of that which was much greater than he.
On the eve of his departure, the orphan found the prince standing in an open field below a brilliant blue sky. He pointed toward the east, where the sun rises. I must confront the dragon, he said. She asked him why he had to go. Surely, she said, he could rule his kingdom without a dragon scale to place above his throne. But this was not their way.
Night fell as quietly as the strands of her newly shorn hair. She prepared for a long journey, hemming tattered garments into the morning light.
Yes, this orphan followed the prince for several months, never far from him. He never knew of her presence. And finally, one day, he came upon the dragon. He was locked in dreadful battle with the beast, trying to get a scale from its body, when the dragon knocked the weapons from his hands. Its enormous claw poised in the air. A sharp blinding flash of light pierced its eyes. It reared back and closed its cold lids. In a glance, the prince saw his friend holding a beam of light in her hand. Without another thought, he grabbed his sword, sliced through the beast’s breast, and grabbed a fallen scale. Together, they ran into the forest.
He thanked her for the act that saved his life. She showed him the mirror that had focused the power of the sun. When they returned to the kingdom, he told a tale of mortal battle. He did not speak of his friend.
She was among the crowd who very soon saw him crowned. Even as King, he arrived at her door to enjoy her company. They remained good and secret friends. The orphan seer cherished his visits, for she loved him truly.
Very soon after that, the young king fell ill. The sickness was painful and grave. Everyone worried for his survival. When word reached other kingdoms of his health, strife entered the land. Many wished to claim what the King called his own.
This was not to be, the people cried. He fought the dragon and returned with his proof. His success deemed him worthy to lead. Someone is to blame.
And in his delirium on his deathbed, the young King confessed the truth. He had received help to obtain the scale. He named her name.
Armed men sought the orphan seer, captured her, and took her
before the court. They demanded the truth from her, which she
told. All gasped in horror.
He was meant to die there, a great nobleman said.
How do you know? she asked.
Because young vibrant men do not fall deathly ill at random. This was ordained. You interfered with his destiny, and our kingdom’s. She said the journey itself was very dangerous. There were bandits and rogues and all manner of Nature’s risks. He could have died then, but did not.
A man walked through the hall to her side. She recognized him at once, those beady eyes and strange robes. He was the Wood Wizard. I know the future and the past, he said. Where they go is my land. It is my business to watch, and, on occasion, interfere. Tell us, woman, why did you save him? Because I love him, she said.
And great nobles, why did you risk his life with the quest? Because that is how it has always been.
The Wood Wizard pulled a small pouch from his robes. He asked what had she given to protect the King. Of course, she had given nothing but her wits and concern. Then the wizard asked if she knew what the kingdom had given to ensure his safe journey. The orphan seer looked at those who judged and blamed her. She did not know.
The wizard tilted the bag and out poured gold coins, more than could possibly fit in the pouch. He caught several coins and sniffed them between his fingers.
Every life has its price, he said. I will leave this for them to spare yours, for your act was done out of love and not duty.
So the orphan seer left with the wizard. When the young King died, never knowing of her deep love, her mother’s mirror shattered. The kingdom fell to greedy foes. She herself was far, far away in a new life.
You were unnerved. The story carried an echo. Perhaps of warning. You managed an appreciative smile for her gifted telling.
I enjoy the old tales. Don’t you? asked she.
Most entertaining, you said.
She grasped the clothing on either side of her chest and moved her torso. You knew that discomfort. You, too, adjusted the cloth that bound your breasts when the spiral wrap twisted. Then she pulled each buckle tight on the pack. She hoisted it on her shoulder and seemed balanced in spite of its size.
Safe travels, friend, said she.
It would not occur to you until much later that the braided cord and placket on her tunic were a certain shade of blue.
YOU JOURNEYED FARTHER, STILL ALONG THE TRADE ROUTES. YOU waved at fellow travelers. You marveled at the wares at the larger trading posts. There was no point in buying or exchanging any goods, but you did look. Traders offered you weapons, jewelry, and spices. Two or three attempted to sell you red flat objects with the texture of a soft horn. Dragon scales, they claimed. You laughed. Indeed. When your horse was stolen, you didn’t try to acquire a new one. You continued onward on foot.
You inquired about Wyl here and there. You described him, but not his quest. It was not so difficult to find at least one person who marginally spoke your language.
Sometimes you could determine whether someone’s help was sincere. You didn’t always reply the same way if asked questions. Your intent was to follow Wyl. At times, you lied to do it. Sometimes you claimed he had a debt to pay, sometimes you owed one.
Once, you encountered a young girl who greeted you for no apparent reason. She twisted a blue hair ribbon around her finger. How odd that she knew your native tongue and was unusually helpful. She refused your offer of a coin. Others had insisted, for no better information than a suggestion to look below the sun and under the moon.
As wide a world as it is, you did manage to trail him. Remember, Wyl was likable. He didn’t engender suspicion or fear. He might have been generous with his fellows at times. Cautiously, you hoped. Wealth like that wouldn’t go unnoticed.
One day you received a clue that he had been seen. The one who wears a coin at his throat? someone said when you asked after him. A coin? you thought. The amulet was the size of a coin. He must have decided to display it for protection.
Then you got lost, or so it seemed. The road disappeared. It ended in the middle of nowhere. You remembered the incantation the young interpreter had told you. The wind quieted, and you could hear water. You walked toward the trickle and followed the flow for many miles. You were utterly alone, lost in the world.
Of those days and nights you remember little, as if you had dreamed them. The animals were familiar, although at times you saw a creature you had never seen before. Most of the trees and plants were similar to what you’d known but somehow not. You trapped game or caught fish. You gathered fruit, bird-pecked, worm-nibbled.
You used the incantation to guide you. Animals and insects caught your eye, and you followed them. Sometimes you misread what revealed itself. You were still learning how to use the power of those words. Once, you felt led to a small hut. Inside, the space was neat and spotless. On a ta
ble there was a large wooden bowl filled with dried peas, and a metal pot with a heavy lid. You filled a quarter of the pot with peas. You gathered wood and built a fire in the hearth. You fetched water, then cooked the stolen food. You returned everything as it was, clean. You left a piece of silver for what you had taken.
You made a point to observe the land. You watched the movement of stars, the peel of the moon. You who had lived by maps were without direction in an unknown location. No one knew where you were, if you were alive or dead. Although you thought you should be afraid, you weren’t. You felt no concern beyond what you would eat or where you could sleep. There was a peace to the unmooring.
A part of you chanted. I escaped. I escaped.
Then one afternoon, unseen forces brought the two of you back together. You don’t know how or why. So much cannot be explained. You almost didn’t recognize him, or he, you. He had grown a beard, roughly groomed. His hair was long, with a blunt trim.
Wyl! you shouted.
You ran through ferns and fallen leaves. You watched his expression shift from suspicion to recognition. You jumped on him like a spider and wrapped him within your limbs like prey. You cannot remember whether you kissed him. | why does that still seem to matter? |
There was a task to do. You couldn’t linger. Wyl expected the quest to be easier, and you sensed it wouldn’t be. You wondered why the young woman had given you the incantation. You weren’t certain how it worked, but you’d used the words. It led you to safety more than once, going through instead of around trees. There are links and gaps, said the young interpreter. Notice the trunks of trees. Yes, you would go into their hollows instead of around them. You thought about when you used the incantation. Did you need it for food or shelter? What was happening? You often received what you needed, but how would you find a dragon and hoard?
It was an accident, a test. A mental focus.
Where is the dragon? you thought.
The Mapmaker's War Page 4