Read The Mapmaker's War for Free Online Page A

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