Cedar’s body aches from a full day of labour. She flips on the light switch she recently repaired and starts a fire.
As the fire grows, her mind flashes to Ash’s invitation to go south. She pushes aside thoughts of regret and looks about for the book of maps. She can pursue something worthwhile here in the north. She has done something worthwhile. Her maps have taken years. Now all that remains is to find a way to put them to good use.
There are few places to search in the cabin, but she cannot find the book.
Grandma comes in the door carrying a large box as Cedar is completing her third search through the cabin’s few storage areas.
“Cedar, would you like to help me with this?”
Cedar lifts the box from Grandma’s arms and carries it to the table.
“Grandma, I can’t find my map book.”
Grandma waves her hand.
“Open the box.” Her eyes sparkle with excitement.
Cedar pulls the lid off the crate. Grandma’s lack of concern about the whereabouts of her maps is puzzling, but she is not used to prying for information.
Cedar’s hands still when she realizes the contents of the box.
“Books? But how, Grandma?” When she notices the titles, she gasps. “Where will we hide them? Most of these are contraband.”
“All that has been dealt with. Samuel will not confiscate these, he has been well paid. Your maps were worth a great deal more to the buyer than I had anticipated.”
“My maps?” Cedar watches Grandma put a pot of water on the hot plate to boil. “Who did you sell my maps to, Grandma?”
“Oh, a tourist. You’ve probably seen him, he has been here all summer.”
“You…you told him about my maps. And you approve of how he will use them?”
Grandma turns serious eyes toward Cedar. “My dear, I owe you an apology. I have allowed you to suffer for my principles, and it is unfair to you. You should not have had to bear so many hard winters simply because I refused to do business with southerners. This winter, we will eat well. More importantly, we will be together, enjoying one another’s company over warm fires and good books.” She withdraws an envelope from her jacket. “There is payment enough to feed us better than ever this winter. I will visit the market tomorrow for a few treats.”
She bustles over to the tin among their books on the shelf. She places the envelope’s contents inside.
Cedar tries to wrap her mind around what Grandma is apologizing for. Far more often has Cedar expressed her desire to travel south. The cold and the hunger, minimized by what many of her neighbour’s experience, is nothing compared to the oppressive expectation of needing to bend her will to Grandma’s. Yet Grandma does not apologize for repeatedly forbidding Cedar from even voicing the idea.
Reaching the source of its fuel, Cedar’s anger blazes.
“I can’t believe you would sell my maps, without asking me.”
Her words have a visible effect on Grandma. Cedar watches, horrified, as her face twists in rage. A moment later, the anger flashes away, and Grandma’s face looks broken.
“I did this for you, child.”
“How could you think I wanted this?”
“You said so yourself. You did not want to spend another winter like the others. I sacrificed my principles for you, Cedar.”
Every word coming out of Grandma’s mouth burns Cedar with shame for thinking so wrongly of her elder.
For the first time, Cedar stops to wonder if the shame is there because she has done something wrong, or for some other reason.
“I must say, Cedar, your lack of gratitude is distressing. Perhaps your real struggle to enjoy winter in this beautiful land is your perspective. If you insist on spending your days wandering in the woods, you can expect a little fatigue. There are more productive outlets. I will prepare a list of things you can do around here starting tomorrow.” She brings down a single cup from the cupboard of chipped dishes and prepares her tea.
Cedar slips away to her mattress. She pulls the covers over her face to block out the light and the noise.
* * * *
ASH WALKS TO THE village and back, looking for his brother. Finding no success, he lets himself into James’ tent. He lies down in front of the entrance, tucking his hands behind his head.
Every noise in the campsite catches his attention. He listens for evidence of his brother’s return. After hours of this, he falls into a deep sleep.
“Ash!”
James is sprawled out on the tent floor. Ash’s thigh throbs as he groggily pulls himself into a sitting position. James scrambles for the flashlight that had gone flying when he tripped over his brother.
“What are you doing here?” James asks.
“We need to talk,” Ash grumbles, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
James snorts, hanging his flashlight on the hook that hangs from the peak of the tent, and pulls off his shirt.
“It couldn’t have waited for morning?” James rummages through his pack for a fresh t-shirt.
“What do you want with Cedar’s maps?” Ash asks, his voice hoarse.
“She told you? It’s for a friend.”
“What friend?”
“I told you before. It’s just a friend, who asked me to look for land for his vacation home.”
“You mean King Marcus,” Ash says.
James sighs and retrieves the flashlight from the hook. “Look Ash, I can’t tell you everything. I’m crown prince, some things are confidential.”
James moves to his sleeping bag and crawls in. He remains upright in a sitting position.
“Is that the word you use for things you are too ashamed to admit?” Ash says.
James flicks off the flashlight. Ash’s eyes adjust to the dark before James speaks again.
“He won’t kill her and be done with it, Ash. He’ll make it last.”
“Who? Cypress? She can take care of herself. She’s the one that got me out of his hell hole.”
Outlined against the light fabric of the tent bathed in moonlight, James shakes his head. “He would not have gone too far with you – not right now. Too much international pressure could derail his plans. Cypress is practically a ghost. It is how she operates. He could do anything to her, any number of atrocities, and it would barely make a side mention in the news. He’s good at torture, Ash. I’ve seen it.”
“Mother knew her risks. Even in the end, she made it clear she would do it again.”
“What he did to mother was horrible, but he’s developed other…methods since then.”
“And you’ve seen them?” Ash asks.
“On diplomatic visits. While trying to negotiate for peace. Father had me take over for him last year. King Marcus showed me his methods. He showed me…a demonstration.” His voice sounds haunted.
Ash is lost for words. Maybe he does not want to know.
“What do Cedar’s maps have to do with anything?”
James shifts in his sleeping bag and lies back on his pillow. “He won’t tell me. He’s obsessed with the north. He’s looking for something. The Governor’s treasure, best I can figure. There are stories that it’s more than just an expensive gem.”
“Why you though? Why not send someone else?”
James gives a short bark of a laugh. “Can’t you see? Any of his minions might get greedy. He trusts me. I have too much to lose. I know from personal experience he’ll follow through with his threats. I’ll protect the ones I love. That makes me indispensable to him.”
“We’ll fight him then. Together,” Ash says.
“No! No, Ash. This is why I didn’t tell you. You don’t know who you are dealing with. Be an optimist if you have to, but you’re naïve if you think we stand a chance in hell.”
“You’re his puppet, James. Are you going to keep letting him pull the strings?”
“What would you do, Ash? In my position?”
“I wouldn’t let him trifle with me,” Ash says.
“If you ran this country, we’d be in an all-out war by now. Maybe months away from being completely eradicated. Is that what you want? You want to see our people burn? I know what I’m doing Ash. I have to bide my time.” James turns away from him to face the tent wall. “Goodnight Ash. I’m sorry about Cedar’s maps, really I am. But it’s a small price to pay for peace.”
Ash’s mind churns with all his brother has said, and more importantly, the truth of it. Had he been left to lead the country alongside his father, he would have made none of the concessions James has. He would have gone down with guns blazing. The landscape of his country would look different. The suffering he has seen would pale in comparison with what would have come about with him at the helm.
When James’ snores fill the tent, Ash rises to leave.
* * * *
CEDAR WAKES SOMETIME BEFORE dawn. The fire has burnt to smoldering coals. Grandma’s snores sound clearly in the stillness of the night. She winces, feeling as though her body is again covered with bruises. She turns on her mattress, searching for a space that molds to her body. No matter which way she turns, it feels as if she lies on a bed of rocks.
She thinks of her mother as she often does in the night. The wind in the trees sounds too much like music not too.
Another memory comes to mind, hazy at first, then growing clearer. She recalls the sound of water lapping against the sand, the feel of the cool dampness of spring dirt, and the weight of a stone in her hand.
Cedar moves off her bed and lifts her mattress. The stone reflects bright moonlight on its surface. The clarity of its sparkle makes her come alive.
She moves with deliberate purpose. She feels she has no right to Grandma’s pantry, so she takes only a little food. She does not touch the money in the tin, or the books in the box. She wants nothing to do with something that has been procured at such a cost.
She wears her warmest clothing, piling on as many layers as she can. She packs a few articles in the satchel that once carried her maps. She grabs the blanket from her bed and tucks it under the flap of the satchel, buckling it in.
She makes strips of cloth from worn clothing. She wraps the sparkling stone in a strip, then ties it about her waist with two others. It is small enough to be hidden beneath her clothing, but its jagged edges press into her soft flesh through the cloth.
Grandma snores and shifts in her bed. Cedar feels a flare of anger, but in the light of a solution, she wonders if she is more angry with herself. Angry at her inability to make clear her need to go south. Angry that for so long she did not have the courage to pursue this course of action despite opposition.
Cedar will not live with such pervasive anger any longer. She is no longer helpless. But neither can she bring herself to say these words to Grandma.
She leaves a note for her. Cedar writes that Grandma may use the money for whatever she thinks is appropriate, though suspects she already considers it her own. I am of age, she reminds Grandma in her note. I have long wanted to go south. There is no longer anything for me here in the north. The words hurt to write. There is so much she loves about her northern home.
Grandma will never understand why she must go south, and Cedar cannot explain.
It is a feeling without words. Grandma continues snoring in her bed while Cedar steps out and closes the door softly behind her.
She remembers the tenderness in Ash’s plea that she come with him, and the feeling of his solidity when she had held him. Ash needs to knows she is accompanying him only as a friend. She values her relationship with him too much to risk him meaning more to her. She has lost the people whom she is closest to. She will not risk losing Ash, even if she has to keep him always at a distance.
* * * *
ASH SPENDS THE REST of the night packing his things. He wakes up James’ bodyguard, telling him his plans to leave at dawn. He takes the long walk to the river where his canoe is safely tucked away in the woods. He pulls it out and rests it beside his things on the riverbank.
He feels guilty wrapping himself in a sleeping bag that keeps him warmer on an early autumn night than Cedar will likely be in her house all winter. He spends the remainder of the night in the open under the stars. A sort of penance for the life of luxury he has been born into. He waits for the first brightness of dawn to light his way on the river.
He jumps to his feet when he hears a twig snap.
“I am coming with you.” The rest of Cedar’s words come out in a hurried torrent. “I may not have a place in the south, but I won’t have one here for much longer either.” She takes a deep breath then adds, “I trust you, you are my friend.”
Ash notices her emphasis on the word friend, and he will not take this as an opportunity to offer more. Maybe he is worried she will change her mind about leaving. He senses her desperation, confirming all his worries that she is in danger here, but he also questions her resolve.
His priority is to get her out of here.
“How’d you find me?” he asks.
“I stopped by your camp.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says, placing her single bag with his belongings. “If you had waited until morning I would be gone.”
He does not ask what brought her out in the dead of night when he had not even planned to leave for another day or two. Their near miss rests heavily on him as they sit on the bank and wait together for dawn.