Chapter 124: Mapmaking

Book 3, Chapter 23 - Mapmaking

Crude was the only word to describe the quill pens in King Agram's possession. Or primitive. That worked too. But it was enough. Better than using a stick to draw on a muddy riverbank. Much better.

Eksa waited for the ink to dry, admiring her own handiwork, knowing that no one in Illusterra had half her talent. It wasn't arrogance. Not in the slightest. It was pure, unadulterated confidence.

She raised her completed map. A map of Eurale and its shores, copied from one of Agram's old maps. Only, hers looked waaay better. Her eyes paused upon her own drawings of the harbor. Slight, but her bias showed. She'd clearly put more effort towards drawing the seaside.

Eksa held the map up above her head. Then held it before the window, letting sunlight pierce the parchment and highlight her work. Then she set it back down on the table again. I'm awesome! She flipped the paper over and dipped the tip of her quill in a jar of black, signing her name at the map's bottom left. Eksa v. R it read.

Three days had passed since coming into Agram's personal service. On occasion, he would ask her to fetch ice for his wine or food for his meals. Most of her time was otherwise spent holed up in a room full of crates with maps and charts and old trade reports.

Eksa cared only for the maps. Especially sea charts. She'd managed a game of Conqueror with the king —which she narrowly lost— all while bragging of all her talents. It had all come to fruition. He allowed her to redraw his old crumpling maps. Not only were their edges rolling and cracking, the maps themselves were simple so to speak. Not simple as in lacking in detail. But simple as in lacking in pleasure value.

They weren't appealing to the eye. They were missing a certain artistic elegance that only the delicate hands of an Estraean craftsman could bring about. Well, only my hands. Estraea had other cartographers. But Eksa was a hand better than all of them she liked to believe. Save for her father of course. But Mikael was gone and would never return.

She double checked her map details with that of the older copy, a withered smile on her face as she recalled sitting in Mikael's lap as he leaned over the desk in his study, lamp light glowing just enough to light the page in front, his sleeves rolled back and lean forearms resting on the desk all while sheltering her ears from the northern cold that so easily pierced stone walls.

Eksa could still hear the soft etchings of her father's fountain pen as he dragged it down a blank sheet, turning incoherent squiggles into the most beautiful marvel she'd ever seen. A marvel that would have even Lilith Lilac grinding her teeth in jealousy.

Eksa sighed. She crumpled the older map into a ball and threw it in a bin where many of its peers sat in a similar state. If only she weren't a slave, this kind of work could demand a handsome payment.

But none of that mattered anymore. She picked up her cutlass which rested against her work table and held it against her breast. It was too thin and hard to be a replica of Mikael's arm. But it was a piece of him. A memory. A sailor's cutlass which she had almost finally grown into. Wielding it was much easier now, her height a handful of inches more than when she'd first run from home.

She might have more chances to wield it yet. Eurale's naval commander, Dhorjun, was expected to arrive in the city after a trip to the Kingdom of Katur. The king had promised Eksa a meeting with him. With any luck, which she finally seemed to have a lot of, Dhorjun would scout her and purchase her freedom.

I'm almost there, da. I'm almost a sailor like you! I'll become the best adventurer there ever was. I swear it on the Flames and on your name.

As if to answer her prayers, thumping footsteps echoed from the corridor outside. Eksa raised her head as the king brushed aside a thin curtain hanging in the doorway and entered, a beast of a man with thick black hair and a beard to match following after him.

This man stood a little taller than the king and had arms about as thick. But something about him was off putting. His muscles held no allure and he made Eksa feel like an ant. She shrunk down in her seat, cutlass hidden beneath the table, half drawn with one hand curled around the hilt. “Your Majesty,” Eksa managed, lowering her head. Even her voice felt nonexistent in this other man's presence.

King Agram gestured to the man beside him. “Eksa, this here is Dhorjun Rossa. The commander of our meager navy. Or the Fang of Eurale as some call him.”

The Fang scratched at his great beard, staring at Eksa with narrowed eyes. She shrunk even further. “She's tiny,” his great voice boomed, occupying the small room like a large piece of furniture that didn't belong no matter what angle it was placed at.

He strode over to the work table. No. He took a single step, large legs covering a few feet of ground with ease. “Tiny and a redheaded,” he said as he picked up Eksa's newly finished map with his uncouth hands. She feared his hard seeming fingertips would smudge her art and crease the page. “Can't make much use. Redheads don't do well under the sun. She'll collapse…” he trailed off, eyes narrowing further as he pulled the map closer to his black maned face. He then looked at her and then back at the map. Then back at her again. “You drew this?”

She nodded, closing her legs and sitting up straight like a prim and proper Estraean noblewoman. She slowly sheathed her cutlass beneath the table without making a sound. Eksa wondered whether she seemed irrelevant in her shabby slave clothes or proud and confident like her imagination. Slave clothes? Flames! I forgot to ask for something else to wear.

“Do you have any drawings of the Aegis basin?” Dhorjun asked, his voice still just as unwelcoming.

Would it kill him to speak in softer tones? She crinkled her nose. A faint odor of alcohol flowed from him. She rested her cutlass on the table. Dhorjun's gaze flickered to the weapon. They then flickered to her breasts as her cloth tunic pressed down on her front for a brief second as she got to her feet. Eksa didn't miss the detail. A slight frown settled on her face as she shuffled over to the walls where shelves of crates with charts sat. Dhorjun wasn't exactly her idea of an honorable sailor. Nor was he dashing. She'd been hoping for someone young and handsome. Maybe she didn't have as much luck as she thought.

Eksa set down a crate and pulled out her drawings of the basin. “These are what I've done so far,” she mumbled, shifting away from the table to create distance between her and the captain.

Dhorjun picked up the charts and examined them one by one. He turned to the king. “How much did you buy her for?”

“Four gold crowns!” Eksa answered, still inflating her own value. Well if anything, she was worth many times that.

Dhorjun nodded as if the sum made little difference to him. He glanced at her again. “I'd rather pay four crowns for these charts. They're worth it I say. Redhead under the sun not worth the hassle unless…” He glanced at her again. “She's of Merinth, Agram?”

The king nodded. If he was bothered by having his name called without honorific, he didn't show it.

Eksa's brows furrowed as she scoured her brain for that word. Merinth? She blinked. Such an old word still existed? Merinth was what Estraea was once called many centuries ago.

“A Merinthian,” Dhorjun said again. “And she draws sea charts with such detail… Daughter of a northern voyager then, mm?” Eksa didn't respond but her silence was evidence enough for an answer. “Kay. I'll buy'er. Four crowns.” He turned to Eksa. “Draw me maps of the entire basin. I'll return for you in a few days.”

Eksa let go of a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding until after Dhorjun had already left. “He's—” she considered her next words carefully as the king still stood there. “He's not what I expected.” He's brutish, unwelcoming, and wholly unpleasant. And a Flaming perv.

Agram nodded, looking over Eksa's charts himself. Praise twinkled in his eyes. “Impressive,” was all he said.

“Er, is it alright if I ask for a new set of clothes, your Majesty?” Eksa tried. Now was as good a time to ask as any. She very well couldn't board a ship wearing only a tunic.

He looked up, eyes wide. “Oh dear, I'd forgotten about that entirely. I've been meaning to ask you what kind you'd prefer. I don't think we have northern style garments here but the seams masters should be able to create something with a bit of time.”

“Um, breeches and a buttoned shirt preferably. Plain. Nothing expensive. And um, undergarments as well,” Eksa said, looking away, blushing.

The king nodded. “I'll have that done. Are you certain about joining my navy? I think you have the aptitude for a scholar.”

Eksa frowned. Scholar? Who, me? “You mean sit behind a desk in a stuffy room and bury my nose in books as bland as sawdust while dust pores crust my lungs worse than a whore's bedsheets?” she snapped, hands on her hips. Her hands snapped to her side in an instant. This is the Flaming king you're speaking to, you dolt!

Agram laughed. “Suit yourself then. It is my belief that a person is truly liberated when letting their talents shine. You've a sailor's heart and mind. That much is plain.” He tilted his head. “And a sailor's mouth,” he finished with a smile.

Eksa blushed. The king was oddly comfortable to be around. So much so, that she spoke her mind too freely at times. It also felt good to be the one saying 'Flaming this' or 'Flames that'. Felt good to own that word rather than be called that because of her hair.

But swearing wasn't very feminine. Mikael had told her so when she'd picked up his swearing habits. 'Listen Eksa, men don't marry women who sound like them or swear as much as a dockside whore'. Or something along those lines. She was surprised to remember that. If it was true, she would need to mind her tongue. She did still want to fall in love one day. Wear a pretty dress. Be wed near the sea with ringing bells and flowers abound.

Well, that was a thought for another time. Eksa sat down again, pulling out clean sheets of paper and old maps of the Aegis basin that she hadn't made copies of. Her gaze moved to their edge, to uncharted waters wherein none had braved a venture. What myths will I find when I have my own ship. The very thought raised her heartrate.

The king left her to her work. She dipped her quill in the ink jar and started drawing again, that scratching sound bringing back early childhood memories. With her free hand, Eksa held the sheath of her cutlass as if she were holding her father's arm, lips curled up, turning incoherent squiggles into a beautiful work of art.