The Glass Sentence (The Mapmakers Trilogy)

by S. E. Grove

  She crossed the carpet of fern leaves to the wooden safe where Veressa kept Talisman’s maps; she had shown Sophia how it worked, the door made of intricate movable pieces, like a puzzle. Taking out the maps, she pulled up a chair and used her breath, as well as the water and matches left on the desk, to awaken the first three maps. Then she held the final map, the tracing glass, to the moonlight and rested it on top of the others.

  As soon as she touched it, the memories again flooded her mind. The recollection of fleeing, full of fear, through the crowds of people was unchanged. But the other maps added a complexity that was almost transformative. The metal map, which allowed her to see the manmade structures around her, brought memories of being inside an impossibly tall pyramid. The long spiral wound its way up to the high peak. The walls around her were made of something almost transparent, like frosted glass. No, Sophia corrected herself: foggy glass, because parts are entirely clear. There were colored panes, like artwork, on the walls, but she could not see them clearly; whoever the map’s memories belonged to had rushed past them, intent on escape. When she reached the top of the pyramid, she saw the heavy object that she would soon roll off the ledge: a round stone. She took the final steps to the top, heaved against the stone, and pushed. She did not see it land, but she felt its impact as the walls around her began to shudder.

  The clay map allowed her to see the landscape beyond the high tower—a vast terrain marked by high peaks and what looked like tall white buildings. And the cloth map showed strange weather unlike any she’d ever seen. Lightning flashed continually beyond the walls of the pyramid, illuminating the gray sky. A constant snow fell, ticking against the foggy panes.

  But this was not what Sophia wanted to see most. She waited, and then the memory came: she burst out through the doorway onto a snowy expanse and turned to watch as the entire pyramid collapsed in an explosive burst of breaking panes and clouds of snow. Then she turned away and looked into the distance, where something almost out of sight—a black speck on the snow—moved toward her. It seemed like a person. As it drew nearer, there was a dull twinkle from something the person was holding. And then the memory faded.

  Sophia was certain—certain beyond a doubt—that she knew that person. There was something about the way they ran toward her. Or perhaps it was simply the feeling—the certainty in the map’s memory—of knowing who they were. What was the glint in their hand? Something they were holding, surely—a mirror? A blade? A watch? It could be almost anything. She opened her eyes with a sigh, steeling herself to read the map once again.

  “You really like libraries, don’t you?”

  Sophia was on her feet in an instant, scanning the room. “Who’s there?” she whispered.

  Someone moved in the shadows near the door. She heard a low chuckle, and then time came to a sudden halt as the figure stepped into the yellow light of the table lamp.

  It was Theo.

  26

  Of Both Marks

  1891, June 29: # hour

  Weirwind: A weather phenomenon common in the northern Baldlands. Thought to have originated after the Great Disruption, the weirwind is the subject of numerous legends. Some maintain that the weirwinds “speak.” Scientific observers have found no evidence of this; they describe solid walls formed by continuous winds of varying strengths. The strongest weirwind on record was five miles wide and covered four hundred miles in ten days.

  —Veressa Metl’s Glossary of Baldlandian Terms

  SOPHIA STARED AT Theo, her heart pounding; but no matter how hard she looked at him, it was not enough. Only a day had passed, yet it seemed much longer. He still wore Shadrack’s clothes—rumpled and a bit dusty—and the scuffed boots he had taken from the shoemaker in Boston. His expression was untroubled, his smile as impudent as always. “What are you doing here?” she whispered.

  “Not happy to see me then?” Theo asked, sitting down comfortably in one of the chairs.

  Sophia flushed. “I asked what you were doing here. And how did you get in?”

  “They don’t guard the whole length of the wall—mainly just around the gates.”

  Part of her wanted to step forward and touch him—to know that he was really back; part of her felt the surging sense of injury and uncertainty that seemed to well up whenever Theo was around. “I just don’t understand,” she finally said.

  “I couldn’t very well abandon you to those pirates, could I?” he replied with a grin.

  “I wish you were one-tenth as reliable as those pirates.” Her voice was dangerously unsteady.

  “I’m reliable,” he protested. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “But you left. Why didn’t you just come in with us at the gate? Why did you have to sneak in? You could get in trouble. The people here—other than Veressa and Martin—are not friendly.”

  Now it was Theo’s turn to stare. “You found Veressa?”

  “Yes. This is her library,” Sophia said, dropping her voice to a whisper once more as Theo looked around. “She’s the royal librarian and court cartologer. Her father is the royal botanist. He’s known Burr and Calixta for years.”

  Theo gave a low whistle. “Does she know where your uncle is?”

  Sophia shook her head, unable to meet his eyes.

  “Well, it’s a good thing you found her anyhow,” he said, his voice acquiring a new tone. “Are Calixta and Burr still here?”

  “Didn’t you see them?”

  “No. I just got over the palace walls last night. I came through this thing like a greenhouse over to the side. I saw you walking along the corridor, so I followed you.”

  “Last night?”

  Theo turned to the windows. “Look. It’s nearly dawn.”

  Sophia scrambled for her watch. He was right; it was almost six-hour. The sense of confusion and uncertainty at seeing Theo still coursed through her, making their conversation seem odd and staged. The words she wanted to say and the questions she wanted to ask flitted, trapped and unspoken, through her mind. What scared you off? Was it me? Something else? Were you always planning to come back? Are you going to leave again?

  “Where are you and the pirates staying?”

  “Right by the greenhouse, with Veressa and her father—Martin.”

  “Well, you have to talk to them.” His voice was unusually grave.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “That thing moving north that everyone’s talking about—it’s not a weirwind.”

  “What is it?” Sophia asked, her anxiety building.

  “The raiders I met up with on the road saw thousands of birds flying north, full pace. I didn’t believe them at first, but then I saw them, too. Birds don’t do that with weirwinds.”

  “But then, what is it? What’s happening?”

  As Theo was about to answer, they heard the heavy tread of the palace guards patrolling the halls. He swiftly rose from his chair, keeping his eye on the door. “Tell Burr and Calixta about the birds,” he whispered. “I don’t have time to explain the rest, and I can’t stay here. If you meet me outside the city gates in an hour, I’ll tell you all everything. Bring your stuff with you so we can leave.”

  “Leave?” Sophia sprang to her feet and gathered up the four maps—forgetting that three of them were not hers to take—and shoved them hastily into her pack. “Why don’t you just tell me now?”

  “I’ll meet you outside the gates,” Theo said, eyes still on the door. The sound of footsteps was fading.

  “Tell me now. Just in case.”

  Theo slowly turned and met her eyes. He wore a curious expression, one Sophia had never seen on his face before. She realized with astonishment that she had hurt his feelings. “You really don’t trust me.”

  Sophia didn’t know what to say, because he was right. She wanted to believe him; she partly believed him—but how could she? Everything about him was uncertain and unpredictable. It was just as likely that he would vanish again, as he had at the gates of Nochtland. “I’m sorry,” she whisper
ed. “But I never know what you’re going to do.”

  He stared at her for several seconds and then gave a quick sigh. “Is there somewhere I can hide while you all get ready to leave?”

  Sophia was caught off guard by his change of mind. “Yes,” she said after a moment. “We’ll be safe with Veressa and Martin.”

  “All right,” he said, tipping his head toward the door. “Let’s go, then.”

  They moved quickly and quietly over the fern carpet, and, after checking the corridor, into the hallway. She made sure to shut the door behind her. As they hurried back to the botanist’s residence, she kept watch ahead, and he behind. Fortunately, they met no one.

  As they tiptoed along the open corridor of Martin and Veressa’s home, Sophia noticed that the lights were on in the kitchen. “Someone’s already up,” she whispered.

  They found Martin preparing an elaborate breakfast at the tiled fireplace that served as both stove and oven. He looked up as Theo and Sophia walked in. “Hello! What’s this?”

  “Martin, this is Theo,” Sophia said hurriedly. “He traveled to Nochtland with me from New Occident. And he has something urgent to tell us all about the weirwind moving north.”

  Theo nodded. “It’s not a weirwind.”

  Martin took in their words. “Best wake the others, then,” he said matter-of-factly, wiping his hands on his apron.

  —1891, June 29: 6-Hour 33—

  “THEO!” CALIXTA EXCLAIMED as she walked into the kitchen. “Where did you spring from?” Sophia, while quickly changing out of her robe, had encountered some difficulty in persuading Calixta to leave the bedroom without her usual lengthy toilette, but the pirate captain had risen to the occasion.

  “I’ve been here all along,” Theo said, raising his eyebrows and dodging the question. “Not my fault if you didn’t notice.”

  Calixta laughingly threw her arm around him and kissed his cheek. “We’re glad to have you back, even if you are such a scoundrel. You ran off without explanation and left us quite heartbroken,” she scolded, glancing at Sophia.

  Sophia flushed. “Where’s Burr?”

  Martin was putting the finishing touches on their breakfast when a sleepy-looking Burr walked in. “Ah, Molasses, I missed you. Where have you been, you imp? Why did you leave us?” He enfolded Theo in a hug.

  “Pay wasn’t good enough,” Theo replied, hugging him back.

  “I forbid you to leave us stranded again, Molly. Look at us. We’ve had to rely on our wits and see where it’s landed us—some impoverished hole in the wall where they don’t even feed us properly.” He reached for one of the round, yellow cakes that Martin was pulling from the oven.

  “Well, I’ve come to save you,” Theo said, straight-faced.

  “Veressa, this is Theo,” Sophia said to Veressa, as she joined them.

  Theo gave a slight bow. “Theodore Constantine Thackary.”

  Veressa extended her hand. “Do I understand correctly that you entered the palace in secret? Unimpeded?”

  “Right over the wall.”

  “I cannot believe the guards did not see you,” she said, with some alarm. “I mean, I hope they didn’t. Did they?”

  “I don’t think so. But even if they’d seen me, I had to come. I’m here to tell you that you have to get out of the city.” He had remained standing as the kitchen filled with people, and now his impatience made itself even more apparent. “As soon as you can.”

  “Tell us what you saw, Theo,” Sophia urged.

  “I was taking the road north, see, the one that lies west of Nochtland. I met up with some raiders there yesterday morning—ones I know from home. They said they’d seen birds migrating north. Which made no sense, because it’s not the right time for that. And the birds weren’t in flocks—they were just flying, thousands of them, all kinds, together.” Martin had been serving breakfast, but one by one they put down their forks and lost all interest in their food.

  “A weirwind wouldn’t cause the birds to migrate north like that,” Veressa said slowly.

  “That’s right. That’s what we said. And then we heard from one of the travelers on the road about the Lachrima.”

  “What about the Lachrima?” Sophia asked. Only Martin continued steadily eating his eggs.

  “He said there’s an Age, far to the south. An unknown Age, populated entirely by Lachrima.” Everyone other than Martin stared at Theo. “And now they’re marching north.”

  After a long silence interrupted only by the sound of Martin chewing, Sophia spoke. “That doesn’t make sense. Veressa told us yesterday, Theo,” she said, “that the Lachrima were born along the edges of the Disruption. They are made by the border itself.”

  “What are you getting at, Sophia?” asked Burr.

  “The thing is,” she said, thinking aloud, “it seemed strange that no one knew about the Lachrima in New Occident. Of course they would be in the Baldlands, if they were made along the borders and borders were everywhere in the Triple Eras.” She paused. “But why would all these Lachrima suddenly appear?”

  “I told you,” Theo said. “They live in this southern Age and they’ve decided to march north.”

  “But that doesn’t seem right. Everything I’ve heard is that the Lachrima aren’t like that. They don’t move around together; they’re solitary—aren’t they?”

  “That’s true,” Veressa agreed.

  “What if—” Sophia thought of Veressa’s and Mrs. Clay’s stories, Shadrack’s note, the distant memory of reading maps in the hidden room of 34 East Ending. And then two images sprang into focus—the maps of the East Indies she had read on the day that Shadrack disappeared: one with the memories of a quiet convent; the other, drawn a decade later, showing nothing but a deadly stillness. “What if an Age south of here suddenly changed, and a new border appeared?” And then she said: “That’s where the Lachrima are coming from—the new border.”

  Everyone except Martin looked at her in surprise.

  “I see what you mean,” Veressa exclaimed. “If we agree that the Lachrima are ordinary people transformed by the sudden appearance of a new border, the appearance of such a border would make itself apparent by the sudden emergence of Lachrima. Yes, that could be it.”

  There was silence at the table. Martin put down his knife and fork, drank the last of his coffee, and energetically cleared his throat. “Well,” he said, loudly. It was the first time he had spoken since they had all gathered in the kitchen. “I believe this is where I come in.” The group turned to looked at him. “Young Theo is right. We should leave the palace—and the city. And, you, my dear,” he said to Sophia, “are also right.” He pushed his chair back and slapped the table dramatically. “And I have a piece of proof to offer each of you.” He removed two small glass containers from his pockets. They both appeared to hold soil. “I finally looked up the coordinates for the island, Burton,” he said, “and I realized why it seemed odd when you first gave me the sample. This,” he said, holding up the glass container in his right hand, “is a sample of remarkable manmade soil that Burr brought me yesterday. It was collected on a very small island some fifty miles off the eastern coast of Late Patagonia. This,” he said, holding up the other container, “is a sample of twenty-first age soil that he brought me nearly a year ago. What I did not realize until late last night is that these samples are taken from the same island.”

  It took a moment for them to grasp the significance. “You mean the soil on the island changed,” Sophia said. She knew then, without any doubt, that she was right; the maps of the Indies had shown two different Ages.

  Veressa gasped. “Good heavens, Father—not only are there new borders, but the borders are moving!”

  The table erupted with questions. “Yes,” Martin said over the din, “we don’t know how or why or to what effect, but the borders are indeed moving. I had thought it might be an isolated incident, but what Theo says makes it appear far more likely that the shift is a continental one, and that the change is occurr
ing across the entire length of Late Patagonia. If the circumstances were different”—again, he raised his voice to silence the exclamations—“I would not recommend leaving Nochtland. After all, our best resources for understanding this mystery are here, in my laboratory and,” he said to Veressa, “your library. But I am afraid my second bit of proof somewhat changes the possibilities.”

  To Veressa’s obvious confusion, her father gave her an apologetic look and covered her hand with his own. “I am sorry, my dear.” Then, to everyone’s complete astonishment, he began to roll up his pant legs. “You see,” he said, speaking with effort as he bent over, “after my extraordinary experiment yesterday with the morning glory seeds, which Burr and Sophia were fortunate enough to witness, I found myself wondering about the potential of this curious manmade soil.” He had rolled up his right pants leg to his knee, and everyone in the kitchen could clearly see the barklike texture of his uninjured leg. “Late last night I had a sudden inspiration,” Martin went on, his voice somewhat muffled as began to roll up his left pants leg. “I thought to myself, if it has such immediate and surprising results with a seed, what would it do to a cutting? Or, in this case, a stump?” He straightened up, rather winded by his efforts.

  From the knee down, his left leg was solid silver.

  “Father!” Veressa exclaimed, running to him. “What have you done?”

  “Unbelievable!” Burr said under his breath.

  Sophia tentatively reached out, touching the cold silver of his shin.

  “And yes,” Martin said ruefully, “I’m afraid it is very real and very permanent. As Sophia and Burr observed, the morning glory threw silver roots. I was not sure whether the stump would grow as a branch or a root, and here we have the answer. It seems I now have one leg with the Mark of the Vine, and one leg with the Mark of Iron.” He shook his head and stared down at them. “And I consequently doubt very much whether it is wise for me to stay in the palace.”