The Mapmaker's War (5 page)

THE TIME CAME FOR WYL TO COMPLETE HIS FEAT. HIS WISDOM TEETH had emerged in full. For reasons unknown, that sign, not age, determined when the task was to be done.

The people of the kingdom chose the endeavor. Peculiar, but that, too, was how it had always been. The feat was intended to test the firstborn prince's strength, bravery, and perseverance. They often decided upon a solitary hunt. The man and his bow out in the forest. The prize was the carcass, then a ritual feast. If the prince was out of favor, the people chose a difficult animal to track and kill | so it was said, you heard tales from old villagers | or required three bodies instead of one. For a beloved prince, the quarry could be as simple as a rabbit or a dove. There were rewards for good favor.

Once the task was accomplished, the young man was declared fit to be King, although many years might pass before he was crowned.

Wyl rarely spoke of the feat other than to wonder what he must hunt. He assumed, rightly so, that his task would be easy. The people had great affection for him. They could require that he catch a salmon as the spawning hoards returned. One good leap, said Wyl, and I'd catch it with my bare hands.

Where were you when he said that? Surely you sat with him in a familiar location, the courtyard, the map chamber. Yet within you, he braced himself against the current. He grabbed that giant rosy hook-faced fish out of water and held it in the air. He was naked from the waist up. His soaked pants molded to every contour from hip to leg.

Aoife, blink, said he.

You closed your eyes to see him more clearly. Sigh. Then you stared at his hands. There he was right in front of you, as distant as the image of him that emerged but didn't exist. Your blood ran hot with lust. You suspected yourself depraved.

Once you spied a crewman through the trees. Bathing. He stood in the middle of a shallow stream. He had a metal cup. He bent and poured and rubbed himself. It was a pleasant morning. When he was clean, he wiped the water away from the hair on his body, then pressed a palm over his genitals several times. He was in profile to you. He took hold of himself with some degree of tenderness and gave his body lingering attention. Although you had seen a man's body, you had never seen it respond as it did. You were shocked to find yourself flushed. The sight made you heavy and light-headed. Hardly seemed ladylike. Then the medium by which a man's seed finds its way out joined the flow of the water. He never knew you were there. He acted no differently toward you, nor you to him. There had been an animal purity about him. He was alive and healthy and in a circumstance that didn't require containment.

Your response was not shame or horror. It should have been. All subtleties and directives of childhood demanded such either-or. No, you felt curious. Did what went through his head and hands go through yours? Of course, you knew that instant, of course. The denial of it made a woman's body an object of submission to the man's expected desire, to her own trained resistance.

You desired Wyl, but other men appealed to you. You were not blind. Now and again, the comely or witty son of a nobleman. During your travels to map the kingdom, without fail there was often a crewman or two near your age, strong and kind. Nothing could come of it, though. You worked and ate together. You slept among them every night but always alone. They and you kept a distance between each other although their bodies were at times so close. You relied on their respect, and they understood the boundaries. To the degree possible, you were one of them. You asked nothing of them you wouldn't do yourself. The illusion that you belonged there had to be maintained.

Indulgence was not to be yours. The crew had options. You didn't care that the crew was not wholly chaste. They had animal urges. You were observant of the discrepancy. There were, as they were called, the used women who for whatever reason allowed themselves to be filled. They were chasms where pleasure disappeared. You knew. You heard the satisfied snores. You heard the men speak of what had been done with whom, to whom, and how. What the women received was a mystery, and you could not ask. Silent, you thought of the good women anxious in virtue, their bodies designed to take in and give as much as the used women yet with greater constraints.

You were philosophical, but not as much as you wish to think. You were young. Healthy. Curious. If they could enjoy that, why couldn't you?

Why not Wyl? Sometimes the sight of him made you mindless. | that grin, that glance | He had fine balanced features and a long lithe body that moved with animal grace. He was beautiful. This could not be denied. On more occasions than you have fingers, you saw women freeze in midmotion, forget to curtsy, and stare at him. They were struck dumb. Other girls and women giggled and looked askance in his presence. He wasn't blind. He noticed, but he thought all princes were treated that way. He thought the women were overcome by his royal bearing. So literal, Wyl, you said when he told you.

After the daydream of Wyl catching the fish, you knew you had to avoid him. You didn't want to feel as you did, but you did. What overtook the beasts of the forest lived in you, too. Your nature contained it, and you had not yet released it. There were risks worse than gossip. If you failed at this, you had no desire for the outcome. The infant inevitable. You wanted what would be allowed Wyl. The pleasure and the power to walk away.

You imagined an escape, but where would you go? You left your father's house for the fields and forests. To leave the kingdom's sprawl to close yourself off in a house with servants and a husband? Unacceptable. To a place all your own? Unlikely, if not impossible. Unless you left to serve another, far, far away.

HOW WORD SPREAD OF THE SETTLEMENT ON THE OTHER BANK, YOU had no idea. The cook | no, now the steward | , unburdened by his confession to Raef, may well have told one person, and another and another. Raef himself, tritely drunk in the company of boisterous fellows, might well have told the tale. Perhaps embellished it. Perhaps got an idea in his head. No one would ever know who revealed this fact.

What occurred was the traditional poll of the subjects to determine what feat beloved Prince Wyl would undertake. You were away when you learned what they had chosen for him. A messenger with news from the King first announced it to the crew.

Then Wyl arrived at the site you were mapping. He demanded a private meeting. You had to obey. Such was his power. The chamber door closed. The guard outside coughed. Wyl paced. The decision troubled him. He expected what generations had done before. A hunt, the lifting of tremendous weights, a night alone and unarmed in the forest.

Instead, he was given the feat of a quest to return with proof of a dragon.

He wanted you to tell him what you'd seen in the settlement across the bank with every possible detail. You didn't want to. It was a place where you returned, if only in mind, during quiet moments. You wondered what it would be like to live there. You questioned whether your memory was true, if you had in fact felt such peace and welcome. Regardless, you were protective of the settlement, although you did not understand why. You didn't wish to betray their quiet.

I said all I had to say before the King and the Council. Why does it matter? you asked.

I want to know if there's evidence of this dragon.

None but a story, you said.

And of the riches in the village?

It's all under one's feet and before one's eyes. That is real.

The people say they've chosen me, said Wyl.

For what?

A new era of prosperity, more than enough for all.

Raef, you thought, the cunning and cowardly. If Wyl found a dragon hoard, he knew the people would get no more benefit than a generous banquet. As a prince, he'd enjoy the riches on top of his inherited wealth. If Wyl failed, you would not be surprised if Raef commissioned a journey of his own. If Wyl died, Raef might have to quest himself, but if he survived, he would one day be King.

You watched Wyl sit on a cushioned bench. His back widened as he leaned forward. You placed both hands below his shoulders. Comfort for him, contact for you.

They say I'm a good, brave, and worthy prince and only a man such as this can attain these boons, said he.

In that instant, no, Aoife, you didn't think the full thought. The glimmer came and went. You felt a shiver at your core and smiled wide with no idea why you were smiling. It was only a nameless, formless possibility at that moment. Then you said:

Wyl, you are a good, brave, worthy prince.

He asked if you believed so. You did. You did. Your hands moved into the brown curled scruff at his neck. He sighed a creature's content.

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.