“But we’re on it.”
She rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “There’s another trail. Onetheydon’t know about.”
“And how do you know about it? Didn’t you copy their map?”
“I did. But I also knew more than their map, or your map. But your map has been key.”
“What do you mean? What’re you on about?” I said, coming to a stop. I crossed my arms. If Agatha had been able to protest at the start of all our journey, then I could now. I was tired. I was in pain. I had a huge headache and needed sleep.
Agatha sighed, she avoided looking at my eyes. She looked back down the mountain impatiently instead. “When they were asking about the merchant’s daughter stuff, if I’d made contact or anything—well I haven’t been fully truthful with you.”
I softened. I uncrossed my arms. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you remember how I used to do chores for Ms. Wickenham? The old lady with the grubby house? I didn’t. I’d…I’d found out who my father was.”
“You reached out when you were thirteen?” I was in shock. The tiredness I’d been feeling left me. I was alert, hearing everything around us and beyond.
Agatha shook her head. “Well it was by accident. I didn’t mean to, I can’t even remember how now. But I learned that he was a map maker in the inner city. He sold maps to rich people there, Lady Skol even… I would go in and look, you see. His shop was so big, and he always had clients, that he never noticed me. I spent days there, months, studying the walls and the maps, and him. But he never noticed me. Never noticed when a table was corrected, a drawer of maps arranged, or a bin that had fallen was righted. I was nothing.”
“Oh Aggie,” I said, moving to hug her.
She stepped away. “But he did recognize me. Finally, when I was seventeen. I’d been away for a couple years. When I got the job at the laundry I couldn’t go as much. Well before I knew it a lot of time had passed. But I was excited to go back. Excited until he saw my face…” She bit her lip. Tears welled in her eyes. “But that’s not the point. The point is I spent many years reading and studying maps, maps people didn’t even know about. In fact, I don’t think my father even knew all the maps he had.”
I didn’t know what to think of what Agatha was telling me. It was confusing, understandable, but confusing that she’d never tell me. I of all people, would’ve sympathized.
“So I’m saying,” she laughed, wiping the tears away, “I know there’s a trail that forks over this pass becauseno one elseknows about it.” She held out her hand for me to take. “Once we’re on the trail we’ll be okay, cause they won’t know.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I took her hand anyway. I smiled, and we continued walking.
We marched another hour, and the fatigue that had been plaguing me had lessened. Hearing Agatha’s story, a whole secret in her life I’d never known about, only grew my fondness for her. We’d battled so much in our life. We’d had so little, and had it all taken from us. And in the middle of nowhere, when we’d been duped by two conmen, she’dlooked after me. Helped us to escape and get away. My heart was heavy with love and appreciation for her. I was determined to be strong now.
The fork came and we took it, but it was barely visible. Agatha had picked it from the rock formation she saw off to the side. Long ago, she said, it must’ve been more prominent. Now it was just forgotten to time.
It led along the mountain for a while and we traveled parallel to the peaks above. We were still far from cresting it, but soon a deep cut emerged in the mountain. A gorge so thin it was as if the mountain had been an egg that was cracked on the side of a pan.
We paused, looking at each other in the dark night. I knew that Agatha would have trouble making out my expressions, but I saw hers. It was relief as much as it was fear. I grabbed her shoulder and squeezed.
“You’re doing great,” I said.
We began our way into the deep cut. It was well rounded and surprisingly clean. But that was because of the wind. It roared through the gap. The further in we marched the stronger it blew. I couldn’t believe it. We were battling against it, leaning into the gale. My legs straining with each step, hands looking for holds…
Then it all stopped.
We passed the halfway mark, and suddenly it was easier on the legs. But it was visually lighter too. Of course! We were on the other side of the range now, and the sun would be rising soon.
We emerged in the pre-dawn light, the desert was warm and a vibrant brown at this hour. Like it could’ve been alive instead of barren. But those thoughts were spoiled by the fires burning below.
“Who is that?” Agatha said.
“I don’t know.”
We watched for a long time, suddenly unsure of what to do. Like our idea of escape had been fantastic until reality was thrust upon us. We didn’t really know what we were doing. While it was good to look at maps, we had no knowledge of the lands we were on. We’d only taken one water bag, no other provisions. When I looked at Agatha, the same thoughts were on her face.
“Well I guess we should take a closer look,” I said. Agatha agreed but said nothing. “Maybe they’ll have food to share?”
The walk down was a breeze compared to the climb. We still had to control ourselves and not start running like mad women, but the trail on this side was quite good. Almost like it had only missed its use for a season or two. It was still defined, still an even tread.
We came upon the camp below us. We’d counted twenty fires. There were tents lined up, strung tight and pegged deep. I’d seen this from afar with my keen eyes, but I’d not told Agatha of it until we were closer. I didn’t want to scare her.
