The Glass Sentence (The Mapmakers Trilogy) (22 page)

Sophia shook her head. “I was having a nightmare. What about you?”

“Yeah, can’t sleep.”

She studied him. His scuffed boots were untied. He looked out intently into the darkness as if waiting for something to emerge from it. “Are you worried about the raider?”

“Not so much.”

Sophia hesitated. She wanted to know more, but she didn’t want to hear another set of lies. She took in his thoughtful expression and decided to risk it. “Why was he chasing you?”

Theo shrugged, as if to say that the story was hardly worth telling. “His name is Jude. He usually stays pretty far north—near New Orleans. Remember I told you about the girl who kind of raised me, Sue? She was about ten years older than me, and she got to be really good at raiding—one of the best. She joined Jude’s gang a while back. I found out a couple years ago she’d been killed in a raid because Jude sent her in by herself and warned the people she was coming. He set a trap for her.”

“That’s awful,” Sophia said.

“He doesn’t like anyone being better than him. Smarter than him. Well, I knew it was just a matter of time before Jude wandered over to the New Occident side. In the Baldlands there’s no law to speak of and the raiders do whatever they like, but in New Occident . . . New Orleans has the biggest prison I’ve ever seen. I just made it my business to tell the law that Jude had blown up all the railroad lines they’d been building into the Baldlands.” He smiled with satisfaction. “Next I’d heard, they’d put him in prison for eighteen months.”

“Was it true?”

“Sure. Raiders don’t like the idea of having tracks into the Baldlands, because then there will just be more people and more towns and more law.”

Sophia examined him critically for a moment. “So you didn’t do anything wrong,” she finally said.

“I don’t care if what I did is wrong or not. I got back at him, didn’t I? He got Sue killed—he deserved it.”

“And you’re not worried he’ll follow you?”

Theo shrugged again. “Doubt he will.” He winked and snapped his fingers into a pistol. “Besides, Jude’s nothing compared to the guys hunting
you
.”

Sophia’s heart sped up again. “I hope they don’t know where we are.”

“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them yet.”

“I think I might have figured out why they want the map, though.”

Theo looked at her with interest. “Why?”

“Well, you know how I told you the Nihilismians think our world isn’t real?”

“Yeah.”

“Shadrack told me once that they believe in a legend about a map called the
carta mayor
: a map of great size and power that contains the whole world. The Nihilismians think it shows the true world—the world that was destroyed by the Great Disruption—not just our world. But no one knows where it is.”

“And the glass you have might find it—the
carta mayor
.”

“Yes. If it’s something that doesn’t look like a typical map”—she remembered the onions at the market—“the glass would make it visible. But I have no idea what the
carta mayor
is supposed to look like or where it is. Shadrack made it sound like it wasn’t actually real.”

“But these guys think it is.”

“Clearly.”

“You know,” Theo said thoughtfully, “your uncle did go to a lot of trouble to keep them from finding it—the glass. Maybe
he
thinks the
carta mayor
is real.”

“I thought about that. But the glass map could just be valuable on its own. I mean, it could be useful for all kinds of things. Not just what the Nihilismians want it for.”

“That’s true, I guess.”

Sophia was silent for a moment. “Hopefully Veressa will know.”

Theo kicked off his boots and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his socked feet on the bench. “Have you thought about how to find her?”

“Once we get to Nochtland, I’ll ask where the academy is. The one they studied at. I’m sure they keep track of everyone who went there. I think that’s the first step.”

“Yeah. And then she’ll know where Shadrack is for sure.”

She wished she could be as certain as he was. “I hope so. I really don’t know.” She paused. “Maybe we should have followed the Sandmen off the train when we had the chance. They could have led us to Shadrack.”

“No way; we did the right thing. Look, you’re doing what he said to do. Mazapán will know the academy. Calixta might even have heard about it—have you asked her?” Sophia shook her head. “Then you’ll find Veressa. And she’ll know what to do.”

Sophia didn’t answer, but sat quietly, listening to the chimes. “I like the pirates,” she said eventually. “We were lucky to meet them.”

Theo grinned. “Yeah. They’re solid. You can count on them.”

“I was lucky to meet you, too.” She watched him as she said it.

Theo’s smile flickered like a sputtering candle, but then his grin returned, easy and calm in the moonlight, and Sophia thought she must have imagined it. “They don’t call me Lucky Theo for nothing.”

—8 Hour 30: On the Road to Nochtland—

A
STEADY
RAIN
had begun to fall, and Mazapán kept stopping to check that the flap over the cart was secure. “I’m sorry, Sophia,” he said more than once. “But if the dishes are wet, I’ll get an earful at home.”

“It’s okay,” Sophia said, curling up as tightly as possible under the cart’s narrow awning. She longed for the spare clothes that were in her abandoned trunk, probably stowed in a train depot somewhere along the Gulf line.

Calixta and Burr rode side by side under broad, colorful umbrellas, engrossed in conversation. Theo trailed behind the cart, seemingly unwilling even to ride with the others. When she did see him, he stared sullenly at his reins and refused to meet her eyes.
He reminds me of me
, Sophia thought,
when I’m moping
. She was baffled. When they’d parted, close to four-hour, Theo had seemed to be in good spirits.

It was some time past sixteen-hour on Sophia’s watch when she saw something on the road ahead of them. At first she thought it was only a group of travelers, but as they approached she realized that it was many travelers—hundreds of travelers—all stalled on the road. They had reached the outer limits of Nochtland. She could just barely make out the high profile of the city walls through the heavy rain and the falling darkness.

“They check everyone who comes in through the gates,” Mazapán explained with a sigh. “I’m afraid we’ll be here for hours. I’d forgotten the eclipse festivities are taking place in a few nights. Everyone from miles around has come to see them. They occur so rarely, and the astronomers say this will be the first total lunar eclipse since the Great Disruption.”

Sophia was too tired to engage him in conversation. She could see the sails of a boldevela far ahead of them in the long line. Calixta and Burr slowed their pace to ride alongside the cart, and Theo rode up briefly. “I’m going to see how long the line is,” he called out. Before anyone could say anything, he had spurred his horse and taken off. Within seconds, he was swallowed up by the darkness.

“Why is he checking the line?” she asked Mazapán uneasily.

“Who knows? Long is long. We’ll be here at least until nine-hour. Twenty-hour, for you,” he added, with a smile. “What a relief that my day is eleven hours shorter. I won’t have as long to wait.”

Sophia knew he was trying to distract her. “That’s not how it works,” she said with a faint smile, staring into the rain. Ahead of them were a large party of traders traveling on foot. They shuffled along slowly, hunched under their cloaks. As the line inched forward, Sophia saw Theo returning. He rode up to her side of the cart, and she realized that his expression had grown even more strained. He was pale, his eyes tense with anxiety. “What is it?” she asked immediately, thinking of the raider from the market. “Did you see someone in the line?”

Theo leaned toward her. “I said I’d see you safely to Nochtland, didn’t I?”

“Yes,” Sophia said, even more uneasy now.

“Well, we’re here,” he said, his voice hard. “You kept your word, and I kept mine.” He leaned in farther, pulled her face toward his, and gave her a rough, awkward kiss on the cheek. “’Bye, Sophia.” He turned the horse away and galloped off in the opposite direction, back toward Veracruz.

Sophia stood up. “Theo!” she shouted. “Where are you going?” For a moment it seemed to her that he turned to look over his shoulder, and then he was gone.

“Let him go, Sophia,” Mazapán called up to her. He eased her back onto the seat. “I’m sorry, child, but you’re getting soaked. Take this cloak and try to keep warm.” He put his arm around her. “He rode away,” Mazapán shouted over the rain, by way of explanation, to Burr and Calixta, who were trying to ask what had happened. “No, he didn’t say why—he just rode away,” he repeated.

“Just like that,” Sophia said emptily.

21

The Botanist

T
HE
CI
TY
OF
Nochtland stretched for miles along the floor of a wide valley. Protected by its high walls, it was more an island than a city, not only because it was crisscrossed by waterways, but also because its inhabitants rarely ventured outside. Traders shuttled back and forth to Veracruz, scholars traveled south to the universities in Xela, and adventurers journeyed north to the wild lands on the Pacific coast. But otherwise the people of Nochtland stayed within its walls, claiming that anything and everything they could ever want lay somewhere in its web of narrow streets and vast gardens. It was a wealthy city, where cacao, bank notes, and crown-issued silver passed hands easily. It was a cosmopolitan city, because people from many different Ages had heard of its beauty and gone to live there. And it was a generous city, to those with the Mark of the Vine.

Nochtland itself seemed to bear the Mark of the Vine. The outer walls were covered with climbing milkweed, balloon vines, morning glories, and bougainvillea. From a distance, the flowering mass appeared almost a living thing: a sleeping creature sprawled out at the end of a long road.

Princess Justa Canuto of the grass-green hair would have banned metal, that despised substance, if she could, but without it the city would cease to function. So, with special dispensation, for which the citizens laboriously applied, the carefully prescribed use of metal was permitted: nuts and bolts, harness fixtures, locks and keys, buckles, iron nails. The Nochtland attorneys grew rich shepherding such applications through the courts. Of course, the royal family had no such constraints, and some people complained bitterly that while they waited two years for a permit to own a steel-wire embroidery needle, the very gates of Nochtland, imperfectly hidden by vines, encased the city in pure wrought iron.

The travelers waited all night in the rain, and when they finally reached the gates of Nochtland Sophia was fast asleep. She had stayed awake late, staring blindly into the pouring rain, hearing Theo’s last words and feeling the slight pressure of his lips against her cheek, until her whole mind and body went numb. Finally she fell asleep against Mazapán’s shoulder. She awoke briefly in the middle of the night to a dark sky and saw that the guards at the gate—tall shapes dressed in long, hooded capes—were inspecting Mazapán’s cart. Then she drifted again into an uneasy sleep, opening her eyes only when Mazapán gently shook her shoulder. “We’re here, Sophia,” he said. “Wake up. You will want to see the city at dawn—there is no better time.”

Sophia sat up drowsily and looked around. As she surfaced from sleep, the sense of frozen numbness persisted. Calixta and Burr rode only a few feet ahead of the cart; the gates were just behind them. The thought of Theo slipped through her mind like a tiny, silvery fish through icy water: briefly there and then gone. Lifting her head, she looked around for her first view of Nochtland. She had anticipated her arrival with such excitement, but now she felt nothing.

The rain had stopped, leaving only thin, jagged clouds that turned blue with the dawn. The cobblestone streets still shone darkly. Chimes tinkled all around, as if engaged in murmuring conversation. The cart horses plodded slowly down a long, straight road lined with trees that scattered drops of rain and filled the morning air with the scent of lemon blossoms. Behind the trees, high stone walls and even taller trees beyond them spilled out from the city’s enclosed gardens. Some of the trees were so broad and full that they seemed to crowd the houses, and Sophia noticed that one of the massive trunks was encircled by a set of stairs that led upward to a gabled house set high in the branches.

She could hear water everywhere. A fountain in the wall to her right disgorged a gurgling stream from the mouth of a stone fish; spigots in the high garden walls spewed rainwater onto the cobblestones. The cart rolled over a bridge spanning a long canal; it stretched out on either side, bordered by low walls and long gardens. Sophia caught a glimpse of the innumerable red-tiled roofs of the houses along the canal as they crossed. Then the road narrowed; on either side, the stone walls were dotted with low doors and closed wooden shutters. The tree houses behind them were curtained and quiet. All Nochtland was still sleeping.

Almost all: there was a child peering out from behind a set of curtains. As their eyes met, Sophia felt a sudden pang at the sight of that surprised, rather lost-looking face. She slipped her hands into her pockets to hold her watch and the spool of thread. They calmed her: time was ticking peacefully, and the Fates had been kind. Perhaps they had taken Theo away, but they had given her Calixta and Burr and Mazapán; surely they were weaving some pattern that ensured her safe travels.

The cart turned the corner and suddenly they found themselves in a wide, tree-lined avenue. “This is the road to the palace gates,” Mazapán said.

“Is your shop near here?”

“Very near—but we are not going to my shop. I will leave you with Burton and Calixta at the palace. You can rest there.”

It took Sophia a moment to understand his words. “At the palace?” she asked, confused.

Mazapán smiled. “You are fortunate in your travel companions. Burton is good friends with the royal botanist, and you will enjoy the best accommodations Nochtland has to offer. Much better than my place,” he said, winking. “Look—on the other side of that fence are the royal gardens.”

Across from the long stone wall along the south side of the avenue was a tall, wrought-iron fence. Behind the fence was a hedge of densely planted juniper trees, and beyond that a rank of taller trees stretched to the horizon.

“It is difficult from here, but you might catch a glimpse of the palace through the trees,” Mazapán said. “It is mostly made of glass, and when the sun shines upon its surface it gleams like a thousand mirrors.”

Calixta and Burr, a few lengths ahead, had paused in the cobblestone road at an enormous fountain, a wide, low pool around a jet of water as tall as a palm tree. “We are almost at the gates,” Mazapán said, slowing the cart to a stop.

Calixta dismounted and walked up to them. “You poor thing,” she said to Sophia, “sleeping all night in those wet clothes.”

Sophia heard the pity in her voice. “I’m fine,” she replied lamely.

“I promise you,” Burr said, leading his horse toward her, “breakfast and warm blankets are only a short walk away.” He leaned into the cart. “Mazapán, my friend, we cannot thank you enough.”

“It is nothing,” he replied, gripping Burr’s hand, as Sophia got out. “Come see me when you have finished your errand.” He gave her a wink. “Come by later for some chocolate!”

“Thank you, Mazapán,” she replied, making an effort to smile. “I will.” She watched as the cart rounded the fountain, heading off down the long avenue toward the narrow streets of Nochtland.

“Why don’t you ride the last part while I hold the reins?” Burr asked Sophia.

“All right,” she agreed. He lifted her onto his horse and led it past the fountain to a row of guards who stood before a set of imposing gates. Wrought iron, they arched upward the height of five Nochtland spears laid end to end.

Like those she had seen while half-asleep at the city gates, the guards wore long, hooded capes and masks made entirely of feathers, showing nothing but their impassive eyes. Tall plumes quivered over their heads. Their bare arms, tightly bound with leather bands and painted or tattooed with dense, swirling lines, held long spears with obsidian heads. Sophia remembered Theo’s costume at the circus, and she realized that Ehrlach had been attempting, in his limited way, to re-create the image of the Nochtland guards.

Despite their terrifying appearance, Burr chatted with the guards as if they were pirates on the
Swan
. “Morning, lads. Here to see the royal botanist, as always.”

“Does the botanist know you are arriving?” the closest guard asked.

“He does not, on this occasion.”

“We will send someone with you, then,” the guard said, and one of the rank stepped forward. “Who is the girl?”

“Just a new recruit.”

Calixta pushed her horse a step forward. “She takes after me,” she said, smiling broadly. “Impatient.”

The guard shook his head, seemingly all too familiar with the Morrises. He opened the gate without another word and waved them on.

They stepped onto a gravel drive that wound through the gardens and up to the palace, the walkways of colored pebbles describing a continuous pattern like a tapestry all along the drive. The path led them through a tunnel of tall juniper bushes, and when they emerged from the tunnel the palace gardens suddenly sprang into view.

Sophia had never seen anything so beautiful. Immediately before her lay a long reflecting pool full of water lilies. On either side of the pool were two gardenia trees dotted with white blossoms, and beside those were lemon trees planted in half-moon beds. Graveled walkways branched off in every direction through the gardens, circling around stone fountains. At each corner of the reflecting pool and along the walkways stood statues of royal ancestors who bore the Mark of the Vine: still faces cut in pale marble, their leafy wings and branching arms white against the green of the gardens.

Beyond the long reflecting pool stood the palace. It was long and rectangular and rose into multiple domes. As Mazapán had said, it was made almost entirely of glass, which glinted in the morning sun like mother-of-pearl. Two vast botanical conservatories of pale green glass flanked it. The guard led them to one side of the reflecting pool, and Sophia glanced down into its shallow green depths, seeing bright fish between the water lilies. The scent of gardenia and lemon blossoms filled the air as birds whirled out from among the branches.

They were led not to the stone steps at front of the palace, where another line of hooded guards stood watch, but to the greenhouses on the right-hand side. The guard left them at a low door in the conservatory wall and departed with their horses. As they waited, Sophia stood quietly, listening to the fountains and the quick calls of the birds.

The door of the conservatory was finally flung open and a small, thin man burst out. “Burton! Calixta!” he shouted. He threw his arms around Burr, squeezing him tightly, and attempted to do the same with Calixta without crushing her hat. The man wore strange spectacles with many lenses, which encircled each of his eyes like petals and winked in the sunlight. Turning his grotesquely magnified eyes toward Sophia, the man asked, “And who is this?”

“Martin,” Burr said, “this is Sophia, from New Occident. Sophia, this is my good friend Martin, the royal botanist.”

Then the wiry man removed his spectacles, and Sophia found herself confronted by a much more ordinary face: narrow, wrinkled deeply from laughter, and topped by a shock of unruly white hair. His long nose, like the gnomon of a sundial, pointed sharply outward and a little to his left. He observed Sophia with his wide brown eyes and put out his hand, bowing briefly as he clasped hers. “Delighted to meet you, Sophia,” he said. “And how wonderful to see you two,” he continued, turning back to Burr and Calixta. “What a surprise. But let’s not stand here. Come in. Come in!”

The botanist led them quickly down the walkway. Sophia noticed that he had a slight limp, but it did not slow him down. Between following Martin and responding to his questions, Sophia barely took in the leaning cacao plants, the mounds of ferns, and the light, fragile faces of the orchids that lined the path. The warm air was bursting with the scent of vegetation. “Did you just come through the city gates?” Martin called over his shoulder.

“We waited in the rain all night,” Burr admitted.

“Poor children! The line must have been eternal, with the eclipse only three nights away. Have you slept at all, Sophia?”

“A little,” she said breathlessly, trying to keep up.

“Do you like eggs?” he demanded, whirling to face her.

“Yes,” Sophia replied, nearly running into him.

“Wonderful!” Martin said, continuing his race through the conservatory. “We’ll have eggs and hot chocolate and mushroom bread.” He muttered something that Sophia could not hear. “I’ll even let you sleep an hour or two,” he added, “before we get to work.”

Sophia wondered what this work could possibly consist of, but she refrained from asking, and a moment later Martin opened a door at the far end of the conservatory. “The royal botanist’s apartments,” he said, ushering them in. “Please make yourselves at home.”