Talon and Rose waited an hour, or maybe three, inside the wall, and finally, Rose interrupted the silence, “What should we do?” she whispered.
“No idea, but let’s decide before we leave this hiding place. For the moment, we are safe. No point in charging haphazardly, especially, when we must have better options than that.”
After a few thought-filled moments, the fourteen year-old girl put their collective thought to words, “We have to leave this village. We cannot stay here, and we cannot go to our aunt’s farm since Lupier is already sending people there. They are going to be checking everywhere in this village; we have to leave.”
“What about Dad? We cannot just abandon him. We need to do something. We need to get him back and get him safe. I am not leaving without him.”
“I know, I know,” said Rose, “but what can we do right now? Are we going to somehow storm those men from the Protectorate and free our father? Plus, where did they go? Have you ever heard of Centopolis? We can’t save Dad without knowing where to find him.”
Talon said nothing. Rose was right. They knew zilch of Centopolis, much less its location. They possessed limited knowledge of the Protectorate, probably just enough information to be more harm than help. Moreover, those men were trained fighters; Rose and Talon knew nothing of fighting. A whirlwind of events tossed them to and fro. Facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles from every direction, Talon, who desperately wanted a solve-it-all plan, remembered his father’s words: “Sacrificing a life to fail an impossible task only forfeits the ability to someday complete the task.” His father spurted silly saying like that with great frequency, but his children seldom understood point of these aloof whimsies. Only now did that saying make sense. Talon needed to get his sister and himself to safety; they needed to survive this encounter with the Protectorate. The truth became clear to Talon: they needed to leave their village. And, they needed to bring the Book of Epiphany with them.
“You’re right, Rose, we need to leave, but I have no idea where we should go?”
“Away, Talon. We just need to get away. Let’s get out this wall and get out of the village. We can grab a few provisions from the house, and we need to take that book, the Book of Epiphany. Are you ready? Let’s go.” Rose banged the wall in an effort to reactivate the door. After a minute of groping about in the dark space, the door sprung open. Rose and Talon spilled into the workshop.
Both packed a few things into their small, cloth backpacks. They stashed enough food for a few days. Talon looked for his sun-sculpting lenses, but being unable to locate them, he remembered that the guards confiscated all of their tools. Rose stashed the Book of Epiphany with her things. Both found a single change of clothes and a blanket for sleeping. Their packs burgeoned from the supplies. Both slung their cloaks over their shoulders, which provided protection from the cool springtime evenings. After just a few hasty minutes, both Sunsculptors were ready for departure. In their haste to leave, they still lacked a destination. Despite their father’s direction, their Aunt’s home was not an option. Just as they exited through the workshop’s outer door, Talon asked the important, but unanswered, question, “Rose, exactly where are we going?”
Rose, frustrated at the implicit delay emerging from this question, retorted to her brother, “Away, right now. Talon, we just need to get away. I don’t really care where we go, just so long it is not here.”
Talon thought it reckless to leave their house so hastily. Rose’s notion of ‘away’ was an emotion based upon fear. They needed a destination. Talon knew only one person who could help them find a destination. “We need to visit Gryph Cartog. That way, at least, we can actually go somewhere and not just wander in circles.”
“You want to visit the man who tells farmers the size of their fields?” Rose said, “The man who can tell how long the paths are through the village? And how it that going to help?”
“He knows a lot more than that. Gryph is a cartographer.” Rose looked at him obliviously. Talon rephrased, “He is a mapmaker. He makes maps ….”
“Duh, I know a mapmaker makes map.”
Talon, not bemused by her interruption, countered, “We need to check with him about a map. That way, we will know where we are going. We might not know where we are going, but at least we will know where we are.”
The idea of needing a map was foreign to both Rose and Talon. They, prior to this moment, never needed one. Their life rarely extended beyond the confines of their village. As for understanding where their village rested in relation to other villages in Centage, this concern never entered their minds – nor into the minds of any other villagers. This may seem strange, but a mentality of isolation encompassed the two Sunsculptors. Their worldview was limited to their village and little else. Rose had never seen a ‘map’, whereas Talon stumbled across a map only a few times during his brief life. Gryph Cartog, the mapmaker, found a niche with his survey work. It required the same skills as cartographer but on a much smaller scale. Talon hoped that Gryph, of all people, might provide some assistance in understanding the world beyond their village.
After a brief exchange, Rose relented. Talon and she decided to visit the mapmaker before departing.
Examining the street, the Sunsculptors found leaving their residence easier than expected. Despite the order from Commander Lupier to search for them, only a handful of guards patrolled the streets. Rose checked the street and darted from the workshop. Talon followed. They weaved their way through village paths. Many people milled about, apparently tending to their day’s affairs. While the siblings knew most of the people in the village, Rose worried they might see a friend, and then, be blitzed by the inevitable questions concerning their clanking packs and traveling cloaks. Talon, likewise, fretted over this possibility. As they passed his friend Jack on the street, Talon tossed him a half-hearted wave and intentionally avoided eye contact. Jack started toward them, but veered away when noting Talon’s obvious aloofness. Talon noticed his friend’s response and hoped to apologize at some point. They walked to Gryph’s workshop in three minutes and only saw one member of the Protectorate – a man that Rose witnessed watching their house earlier in the day. She immediately recognized him, but he, not having seen Rose, thought nothing peculiar when two teenagers, a boy and a girl, quietly drifted along a diverging path. After the guard went past them, Talon and Rose coolly veered back toward the needed path and moved toward mapmaker’s shop.
As they entered the shop, Gryph Cartog hovered over a large piece of paper spread over tabletop. His quill delicately drew a perfectly straight line across the paper. The purpose, of which, was not evident. His tools hung conveniently, and they were neatly located next to the table. Gryph heard the door creak open and then clang as it shut, but he continued working. His physical appearance was in contrast to Rose and Talon. Gryph stood tall with lean muscles, whereas Rose and Talon, who were almost the same height, were shorter than average. Gryph’s balding head glimmered in stark contrast to the thick, brown, and curly hair of the two Sunsculptors: Talon kept his hair short, Rose’s curl fell down to the middle of her back. Finally, Gryph’s pale skin almost glowed in the dark, while the youths olive skin looked even darker in comparison. He looked like a man whose skin seldom felt the sun’s warmth.
Gryph and the Sunsculptor father possessed great professional respect for one another. Both worked long hours on delicate projects and both struggled to maintain financial viability. For Gryph, his predecessors in cartography developed a niche doing survey work. This niche was helpful but it provided just a meager existence. For the Sunsculptors, their relationship with Lupier created a recent influx of funds but the dank nature of Gryph’s shop indicated that he benefited from no such windfall. Everything looked old. While well kept, the entire shop teemed with the possibility of imminent collapse.
Finally, Gryph looked to the room’s new occupants. “Aw, greetings to you, Rose Sunsculptor and Talon Sunsculptor, what bring you by my shop to day? Is there something your father needs?” T
he balding man asked in a friendly tone, but his face remained chiseled with the same intensity he possessed while working.
Tongue-tied, Talon struggled for words. What should he tell a man who was a passing acquaintance? His father respected the mapmaker, but really, their relationship was professional – not personal. How much should they confide in a man they hardly knew? As Talon stumbled incomprehensively over disjointed words, Rose remembered her father’s advice: they needed to trust others. She figured this was one of those moments, “Gryph, we need your help. The Protectorate captured our father. They took him because he refused to make any more glowing weapons. The Protectorate is now looking for us. They want to threaten us and then coerce our father into making more weapons. We need to get away from the village, but we have no idea where to go. Can you help us?”
His sister’s audacity shocked Talon, but he appreciated her straightforward style. As for Gryph Cartog, he was surprised by the amount of information his sister just unloaded. During the ensuing pause, Talon questioned, “Do you know about the Protectorate?” He asked in a tone that bespoke of information-seeking more than information-providing.
The fair-skinned mapmaker responded, “Yes, I know a little, Talon. Mostly, I’ve heard a few passing references here and there. They are a militia, but who they are protecting and from whom they are protecting them, I have no idea.” Gryph stopped suddenly. He looked out his shop and saw two guards heading toward his shop’s outer door. He snapped to his two visitors, “They are here. Quick, hide in the closet.” The cartographer opened the doors to a neatly filled wardrobe. The perfectly stacked parchments and scrolls, however, were covered in dust. Rose and Talon stealthily lurched into to wardrobe, holding in check their coughing reflexes. Both etched out a small space inside the expansive closet. The outer door of the shop opened before Gryph completely closed the door that shielded Talon from the room’s newest occupants. Only after the guard’s entrance did Talon and Gryph realize that the adolescent boy – unlike his smaller sister – was slightly too big for the wardrobe. Since the wardrobe’s doors opened toward the center of the room (and away from guards’ purview), Gryph nonchalantly left the doors noticeable ajar. Thus, with the doors partly open and Talon still quite visible, the two guards stepped further into the shop. Gryph decided to take the initiative in the conversation, hoping to divert attention away from the hidden youth. He faced indecision in regards to hiding the Sunsculptors, but for now, protecting the children seemed the better of two options.
Gryph spoke to the uniformed men, “Greetings, what brings you to my shop today? Would you perhaps need some assistance in a survey project?”
The two members of the Protectorate ignored the question, “We are looking for Talon and Rose Sunsculptor. They are wanted by the Protectorate. Do you know where they are?”
Gryph, still indecisive, fumbled as his thoughts as he probed for more information. Perhaps, this information might bring much-desired clarity. He quizzed the guards, “What does the Protectorate want with those two youths?”
The smaller of the two responded, “Our wants are no concern to you. What is a concern to you, however, is the significant monetary sum offered to the individual who delivers them to us. But, if you must know, they ran away from their father, who recently agreed to move to Centopolis to better serve the Protectorate. As a personal favor to the elder Sunsculptor, we search for his children so he can reunite with them. Once again, have seen Talon or Rose Sunsculptor?”
The mapmaker faced a decision: open the door to the wardrobe and collect a large sum of money or deny knowing their whereabouts and lose a large sum of money, and additionally, most likely position himself against the emerging power contingent, the Protectorate. He instantaneously made his decision, “I have not seen them, but with the promise of a substantial reward, I will certainly be wary for their presence.”
“Very well,” responded the lead guard who turned and walked toward the door. His companion turned and trotted behind him. Gryph walked toward the exit, as if he were politely walking his guests toward the door. He gently closed the door behind the previous occupants and then went to the closet hiding the two youths. “Indeed, you are wanted by the Protectorate.”
Talon tumbled from his makeshift hiding spot and asked the cartographer, “Why did you not give us over to them?”
Gryph responded quietly, “They lied, and you did not. If I have to choose sides, why would I give a truth-teller to a liar?”
“But they were offering you a lot of money,” said Talon as he unconsciously glanced around at the shabby room.
“So they were,” answered Gryph, who noticed Talon’s impromptu examination, “but some things cannot be bought. I’d opt for poverty if I remained an honorable man rather than possess all the luxuries of Centage if it meant I must help liars.”
“How did you know they were lying and we told the truth?” asked Talon.
“Easy,” said Gryph, “Rose talked openly and her words matched the peculiarity of your arrival. They spoke in half-thoughts and refused to answer simple questions. Their words made little sense, except to provide self-justification for their, most certainly, unjustifiable actions.”
Rose, however, recognized the irony of the situation and asked the mapmaker, “But didn’t you lie to the guards when you said you had not seen us?”
Gryph grinned - not at the question but at the girl who asked it. Other people seldom surprised him, but a girl who questioned his motivations after just saving them flummoxed the mapmaker. Upon meeting her gaze and seeing that she expected an answer, Gryph responded, “Good question, and yes, I did lie to them, but it was to save you. Liars lie because untruths are more convenient than the truth. In my case, the truth was easier and certainly more profitable. Faced with the two options, I choose the more difficult path. When it comes to morality, seldom is the easiest choice the right choice.”
Rose nodded in agreement with the mapmaker’s reasoning. Talon eagerly changed the subject and reiterated their initial concern, “Do you have a map we can use? As evidenced by your most recent ‘patrons,’ we need to leave the village, and we need a map to guide our travels.”
“Yes, I have map for you. It was made many generations ago, but I doubt much has changed. Seldom, and by seldom I mean never, does a customer requests a map. Hence, I survey lands to make a meager living. Do you know how to use a compass and read the map?”
These rudimentary skills seem commonplace, but neither Rose nor Talon ever needed these abilities. Gryph found a large scroll and rolled it out. For the first time, Rose and her sixteen years-old brother looked upon a representation of Centage. Many numbers were clustered on the left portion of the map; the other side revealed large mountains, an expansive dessert, three rivers, numerous tributaries, a small badlands, four lakes and a sea. The small writing shimmered from the precision of unmatched penmanship. The cartographer identified the numbers on the map as individual villages. They ranged from 0 to 99. Instead of giving the villages names, apparently, map’s original maker designated the villages by number.
Rose interrupted the explanation to ask, “Which village are we?”
Gryph answered, “We are village #94. See it there.” He pointed as he spoke. His finger went to a village on the far right of the cluster. Their village resided at the edge of the clustered settlements, and in close proximity, there was a desert and badlands. Gryph continued, “Centage derives its name from the 100 villages scattered across the land.”
Next, Gryph took out a compass and explained to Rose and Talon how it worked. He gave brief instructions on using the sun and stars for guidance. Gryph peppered the two Sunsculptors with many questions to ensure they understood. After a couple of hours, Rose and Talon grew proficient at reading the map and ascertaining their direction. Gryph, for his part, doubted their ability. The sibling might understand the concepts standing in his shop; but he worried they lacked the skills make these decisions while standing in the wild under a canopy of
trees. How could a couple of teenagers navigate their way through Centage? He feared their knowledge might embolden them to action, only to eventually discover the wanting nature of their own navigational ability.
After completing the explanation, Gryph suggested the youngsters wait until sundown to leave. They agreed. The darkness provided cover as they tried to avoid detection by the patrolling guards. With a few more hours to wait, Gryph laid two pallets on the ground so they could get some much-needed rest. The mapmaker correctly surmised the day’s event left Rose and Talon physically and emotionally drained.
While the Sunsculptors slept, he prepared a food for their travels: Cheese loaf, hardy bread that stayed fresh for weeks and provided a great boost of energy. It tasted like dirt, but it did provide sustenance. Gryph also realized the two travelers forgot to bring a pouch for water. He found four journals in his shop and pulled the leather covers from the pages. He sewed two covers together to form a rectangular pouch that held water. It looked odd, but it did hold water. He repacked both of the bags to make room for the additions: food, water, map, and compass. Gryph took note of book in the bag; it was double bond and very old. It was strange that his two guests neglected to pack food or water but remembered to bring this book. What must it contain that was so important? Putting aside his question, he repacked the book with the other items.
An hour after sundown, Gryph woke Rose and Talon. Many villagers still meandered along the paths; some were finished their day’s professional responsibilities while other appeared headed toward social engagements. It seemed to Gryph the best time to leave undetected. The people provided anonymity and the evening sky limited visual recognition. Gryph told them of the additions to their packs and then asked of their traveling plans, “Where do you plan to go from here?”
Rose wondered whether their newfound helper noticed the Book of Epiphany in her pack. She quietly checked her pack to make sure it was still there, while Talon, oblivious to his sister’s concern, responded, “We are getting away, that is all we know right now, away.”
The lack of a specific destination was as Gryph expected. How could two people so ignorant of geography know where to go? Gryph also knew that traveling without a destination often resulted in an inadvertent circular route that ended where it started. Fearing this result, he asked, “Might I make a suggestion?”
Rose eagerly received this offer to help. Having seen the Book of Epiphany neatly put away in her pack made her eager to trust the mapmaker’s advice, “Certainly, where do you think we should go?”
“When you leave the village, walk in the direction of the purple moon. The full white moon should provide enough light to travel at night. By morning, you should reach the Double Falls Tributary. Follow it north. Depending upon how fast you travel, it should take three or four days to reach village #97. You can develop a permanent plan once you reach the familiar setting of a village. Additionally, there are two villages closer than #97. Once the Protectorate realizes you left, they might begin searching other village for your whereabouts. If they do, I think it best to not be hiding in the closest villages.”
“Thanks for the advice,” said Talon.
The thump, thump, thump of a child running reverberated in the house. A smiling girl, about nine years old, skipped into the room. Her fair skin resembled her fathers, but her dazzling tawny eyes looked nothing like the dark brown eyes of Gryph Cartog. Her silky black hair hung just to her shoulders; her well-worn smocks appeared a resized hand-me down. The dull clothing color only highlighted her glowing eyes. Rose immediately recognized the girl as Gryph’s oldest daughter, but she had not previously noticed the girl’s radiant eyes. Perhaps the lighting somehow drew Rose’s attention to the girl’s golden eye-color. Talon, likewise, looked puzzlingly at the girl, also noting her glowing ocher eyes.
Amber Cartog spoke in a soft, childish voice, “Talon and Rose Sunsculptor, it is wonderful to see you: may the Creator watch over you in your journeys. Remember to act with courage, to love the unlovable, and to choose wisdom over haste. When you return to our village, it will not be same. When you return, you will lead in unexpected ways.”
Rose looked intently at the girl, trying to apprehend her odd greeting. As she gazed upon her, Rose realized the young girl’s eyes lacked their previous radiance. While they still possessed a beautiful tawny hue, they lack their previous radiance and depth of color. Perhaps, Rose thought, the light had reflected off her eyes in a manner to give them the extra glow. The young Cartog pranced from the room, with the same carefree attitude that marked her entrance.
“When Amber talks,” declared Gryph, “you do best to listen and heed her words.”
Amber’s greeting befuddled the Sunsculptors, but they still nodded appreciatively at Gryph’s advice.
Rose and Talon donned the outer cloak and strapped their packs on their back. They were eager to depart from the purview of guards’ patrols. It was time to leave, and there was no reason for any further delays. Gryph noticed their sense of urgency and walked them to door. He cracked and peered toward the path, which was clear except for a woman leading three bushy goats through the village. She appeared to be returning home after unsuccessfully trying to sell her animals’ wool. As he opened the door, Talon reached into his pocket and put three platinum coins in Gryph’s hand. One platinum coin was of significant value, more than Amber’s father might earn in a year. Gryph tried to protest as the Sunsculptors walked out, but as Talon expected, Gryph wanted to avoid drawing the attention of others so the mapmaker quietly slipped the coins into his pocket.
Talon looked over his shoulder and whispered, “For the map and compass.” Gryph watched as Talon and Rose disappeared into the dark paths of their village. He closed the door and looked again at the coin. The mapmaker held in his hand more money than he made the previous half-decade.
5 TRAVELING COMPANIONS