The Glass Sentence (The Mapmakers Trilogy) (29 page)

28

Sailing South

T
HE
SMALL
CABIN
where Shadrack had already spent one day and one night was in many respects similar to a ship’s cabin. Two narrow bunk beds were wedged into the walls, across from a round porthole that looked out onto the road as the boldevela sailed along. But unlike a ship, the boldevela took its shape from the massive tree at its center. The cabins were built among the roots, and behind their walls lay the packed dirt that sustained the tree’s growth. The rooms smelled of earth, and the occasional root had wormed through the walls. Shadrack could see little else, as the Nihilismians had bound him hand and foot and tossed him onto the upper bunk. At certain moments, as the boldevela met with forceful winds, it took all his strength not to roll off.

The time would have passed with crushing slowness under ordinary circumstances, but for Shadrack it was made worse by his state of mind. Escape now seemed impossible. He had hoped to gain Weeping’s trust—perhaps even his assistance. Instead, he had cost Weeping his mind and lost his best possible ally. He was on his own, unable to free himself, in some corner of a ship sailing overland south at incredible speed, and utterly unable to save himself—let alone Sophia.

The Southern Snows were moving north, destroying everything in their path. He strained against the ropes in frustration. For all he knew, the snows had already reached Nochtland. The glaciers would arrive, and the city would vanish, leaving nothing but the footprint of its lakes and canals. Sophia would be gone forever. He lay still for a moment; it would only make him more useless if he assumed the worst. He had to believe there was still time, and he had to find an opportunity for escape.

They had been sailing since boarding the vessel, and Shadrack estimated that they were already well into the Baldlands. Most likely, he assumed, they would not stop until they had arrived in Veracruz. That would be his next opportunity. At whatever cost, he had to break free when they reached the coast.

Toward midday, they came to an abrupt halt. A sound like a distant storm reached him. Moments later, someone came running across the deck and the door slammed open. To his astonishment, a Sandman yanked him from the top bunk and cut his ropes in one savage movement. “Don’t just stand there; we need every hand we can get, or we’re all dead.” Without waiting to see if his prisoner would follow, he turned and ran. After a moment’s hesitation, Shadrack bolted from the cabin and hurried along the narrow corridor.

When Shadrack reached the deck, he understood at once the urgency of the situation. The boldevela had almost collided with a sinister-looking weirwind, and all of the Sandmen, their grappling hooks embedded in the hull, were straining to pull the ship back before it was sucked in and destroyed. The entire mast, including the broad green leaves that were its sails, strained toward the weirwind like a young sapling in a storm. The wind howled and groaned as if hungering for prey, drawing the ship into its destructive embrace inch by inch.

Suddenly, he realized that without the boldevela Blanca would have no way to pursue him.
This is my chance
, he thought, lunging toward the rope ladder at the ship’s side. The ladder carried him only so far; he dropped the last ten feet, his legs buckling beneath him.

Rolling to his feet, he stumbled and then steadied himself. He headed west, arms pumping, running parallel to the wall of wind, trying to stay far enough away so that he was not drawn toward it, but it was like fighting the tide. He would think he had opened a good distance between himself and the weirwind, but then he would look to his left and realize that he was much closer than he’d thought. As he veered north insistently, his lungs began to feel the pinch of the dry air and exertion. He whirled and ran backward to see if the ship had been destroyed yet; it was still poised as if on the edge of a precipice, hundreds of meters away.

The terrain was dry and flat, with the occasional rocky outgrowth. He did not know how long the weirwind extended or what he would do once he reached the end of it; he only knew that he had to run. Somewhere to the south, Sophia was waiting for him.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw the boldevela, a dark smudge in the distance. Was it his imagination, or was it larger than it had been a moment before? He turned away, and with his failing strength, ran.

29

The Leafless Tree

S
OPHIA
AND
T
HEO
had walked for more than two Nochtland hours when Sophia spotted the condemned tree. Had they not been so weary of ducking and dodging every time they sighted a palace guard, they might not even have paused. But they were tired, and the city seemed ominously empty of places to take refuge.

The tree stood far from the palace and even the city center. At its base was a wooden sign post with a notice nailed to it:
CONDEMNE
D. ROOT ROT. CITY ORDI
NANCE 437. SCHEDULED FOR
DEMOLITION AUGUST 1.
The tree had indeed rotted from the roots up, but the massive trunk still supported the broad, bare branches that reached out over the nearby buildings. A few of the wooden steps spiraling up the trunk hung loose; a few more were missing. The house among its high branches looked forlorn with its broken windows and missing shingles. It had clearly been abandoned for some time.

Sophia and Theo looked at one another. “Do you think it’s safe?” she asked.

“If we can get up there, it’s safe.” Theo put his foot tentatively on the first step. “I’ll go up first. As long as it still has a floor, we’ll be fine.”

Sophia watched anxiously as he climbed. She checked to make sure no one was watching, but fortunately they had reached a less trafficked part of the city, and the only sound came from several blocks away. She lost sight of Theo as he followed the spiraling steps on the other side of the trunk.

“Fine so far,” he called down, waving encouragingly. He climbed the final steps to the tree house and then disappeared within.

Sophia stared up nervously, losing all sense of how long he had been inside. Finally Theo leaned out through one of the gaping windows. “It’s great! Come on up.”

Holding on to the rough trunk with both hands, Sophia carefully scaled the spiral staircase. She was too anxious to appreciate the city views unfolding below her.

“Isn’t this
amazing
?” were Theo’s first words as she ducked in through the doorway. At first, it was hard to see why. The room was almost empty, apart from a long wooden table and a heavily dented stove with a missing stovepipe. A pair of overturned chairs stood near the staircase to the second floor. But then she saw the windows. Each was a different size and shape, from small squares to enormous diamonds; each offered a magnificent view of Nochtland.

Sophia looked around in awe. “It’s beautiful. It must have been even more beautiful before the tree rotted.”

Theo raced to the spiral staircase, and she broke off her reverie to follow him. The second floor had slanted ceilings and round windows. A cracked, floor-length mirror leaned against the wall; a lumpy cotton mattress was folded up beside it. “They even left us a place to sleep!”

He kicked open the mattress and sat down on it experimentally. Sophia sank down beside him with relief. For a moment she closed her eyes, grateful for the quiet, and breathed deeply; the air was scented with musty wood. She wanted to curl up on the lumpy mattress and forget about the strange, frightening city that lay beyond the wooden walls. She imagined the house as it must have been, with the green leaves of the living tree and bright yellow curtains fluttering in the breeze and a blue desk by the round window—a perfect place for drawing.

Then, with a sigh, she opened her eyes and looked up at the slanted ceiling. “So what do we need to get into the palace?”

“Costumes. Nice ones. Fancy costumes, and something to cover our faces.”

Sophia sat up slowly and opened her pack. “I still have New Occident money,” she said. “We could buy some things.”

“Show me how much you have.” He held out his uninjured hand for the money. “All right,” he said, after counting it. “You stay here and I’ll go buy us some things for costumes.”

“
What?
No—I’m going with you.”

He shook his head. “If we go together, we’ll be more recognizable. The guards will be looking for two people. And besides, you stick out. I look like I’m from the Baldlands, but you don’t.” Sophia looked at him in consternation. Theo took her hand, and when he spoke again his voice was serious. “You know I’ll come back.”

“I know,” Sophia said with frustration. “Of course I know. I just don’t want to sit here waiting. What about your hand?”

“It’s fine.”

“You can’t even carry anything with it.”

“Yes, I can. Trust me. It’ll be safer. And easier.”

She shook her head resignedly. “All right.”

He got to his feet and stuffed the money into his pocket. “I’d better get going,” he said, looking out through one of the round windows. “It’s late afternoon, and the stores will start closing.”

“How long do you think it will take?” she asked anxiously, standing up too.

“Maybe an hour. It may get dark while I’m gone. I’ll try to buy candles,” he added, looking around the bare room. Sophia followed him down the spiral staircase to the first floor and then watched him scurry down the trunk of the tree. “Back soon,” he called up quietly. She watched him go.

Then she righted the two chairs near the staircase, placing them on either side of the wooden table. Sitting down heavily, she rested her chin in her hand and looked out over the room.

It was not that she disbelieved Theo—not anymore. She knew he planned to return. But any number of things could happen to prevent him from making his way back to the house in the rotting tree. The guards might see him; someone might ask about his hand and find his answer unsatisfactory; the raider from the market might stumble across him again. She sat, and the sky darkened, the time stretching out interminably. What would happen if Theo did not return? The dusk would turn to night, and the whole city would fall asleep, and she would remain in the tree house, waiting. Then the sky would lighten and the day would arrive, and she would have to venture back into the heart of the city and find a way to get past the guards at Mazapán’s shop. The very thought of it made her stomach sink. And if she could not get through? All of her money was gone. Even if she could leave the city unseen, she would have no way to buy food, and she would have to walk all the long way to Veracruz to seek help from the crew of the
Swan
. If by some miracle she made it, how would she get back to New Occident? It was nearly July 4; after that, with the borders’ closure and the inevitable lines at each entry point, it would be much harder. What if she ended up outside New Occident’s borders, stranded?
I’ll never make it,
she thought.
I might as well go turn myself in at the palace.

She checked her watch; Theo had been gone more than two hours.
This is stupid
, she realized.
I’m not making anything better by sitting here agonizing. I need something to
do.

Steeling herself, she opened her pack and took out the maps. She had left the glass map awake, and now she read the maps once, twice, and then a third time. She lingered over the strange apparition that appeared at the end of the memories: a figure holding a shining beacon in its hand as it ran toward her. Each time, it seemed to grow more familiar.
I’ll read the maps again
, she thought,
And this time I’ll know who it is
. But nothing changed beyond the unnerving sense of familiarity. Sighing, she put the maps aside. There was something about them . . . It was almost as if they were meant for her—that their meaning lay within her grasp. But something was still missing.

Then she opened her notebook, and in the dying light of sunset she drew aimlessly, letting her pencil wander. She found herself tracing the outlines of a familiar face: there was Theo, smiling slyly from the center of the page, almost about to wink. She realized with surprise that it was a fair resemblance. It did not quite capture him, but the likeness was recognizable—far more so than her first attempt after seeing him at the wharf. She flipped back in her sketchbook and compared the two. The haughty boy she had drawn then was entirely unlike the one she had come to know.
Ehrlach disguised him with feathers
, Sophia thought,
and I disguised him with my own idea of what I wanted him to be.

“Is that me?”

Sophia turned with a start and saw Theo himself, his arms heavily laden, standing in the semi-darkness. “You’re back!” she exclaimed, flooded with relief. “You frightened me. I didn’t hear you come up.”

He laughed and dropped the bundles on the table. “I didn’t sneak up on you, honestly. The whole palace guard could have tramped up here and you wouldn’t have heard them.”

“I’m so glad you’re back.”

“I took a long time, I’m sorry,” Theo said, and it was clear he meant it. “But look at everything I got.” He rummaged through one of the packages and pulled out a bundle of white candles. He lit one, dripped wax on the wooden table, and planted the candle there.

“Did anyone see you?”

“I only saw one guard the whole time, and he didn’t notice me,” Theo said smugly. “I stayed out of the center—got everything in stores farther out. Look at this,” he said, pulling out a sage-green cloth that glimmered as if powdered with gold.

Sophia gasped. “It’s beautiful—what is it?”

“A long veil. You can just wear it over your head—I’ll show you. No one will see your face. And I got you this,” he went on, pulling out a pale green gown with slender straps made of vine. “It’s probably a little big, so you can use this to adjust it.” He showed her a small wooden box with an inlaid design and opened it to reveal a packet of bone needles, a tiny pair of scissors fashioned of obsidian and wood, and four diminutive spools of thread.

“Theo,” Sophia breathed. “These things are so beautiful. Did the money I had really buy all this?”

“I kept most of the money. We need it for food, anyway.”

It took her a moment to understand. “You stole these things,” she finally said.

Theo looked back at her, his dark eyes serious in the feeble light of the candle. “Of course I did. I had to. Why do you think I went alone? The money wouldn’t have bought us more than a couple pairs of socks. Do you want to get into the palace or not?”

“I should have known.”

“Come on. I
had
to steal these things. We weren’t going to get in all dirty, dressed like beggars. There was no choice.”

“You could have just
said so
,” she snapped. “You could have just said the money wasn’t enough and you had to go alone because you were going to steal it.”

“Well, I didn’t
lie
,” Theo replied heatedly. “I
didn’t
say the money was enough, and all the reasons I gave for going alone were true. I don’t lie to you.”

“But if you leave out the truth, it’s the same as lying!”

“It was just easier not to explain. You would have argued with me, and I needed to get these things before dark. Come on, let me show you the rest of the stuff. It’s great,” Theo said in a placating tone.

“All right,” Sophia said tightly.

“This is for me,” he said. He opened a bulky package and drew out a long black velvet cloak. “Plus some new bandages. And, as much as I hate feathers, that’s pretty much all there is for masks. I got these to match, to hide my hand.” He showed her a mask covered with brilliant blue plumage, and the gauntlets that would conceal the cotton gauze.

“It’s all perfect,” Sophia said dispiritedly. “Everything you got.”

Theo sat and looked at her across the table. “Don’t be mad.”

“I just don’t understand why you have to lie about everything.”

“It’s just—I don’t know. It’s so much easier than explaining every little thing.” He turned the mask over in his hands.

“But you lie about things that aren’t little. Like what happened to your parents.”

“Well, yeah. I don’t like being pinned down.”

“Pinned down?”

“You know what I mean. If you tell someone everything, it’s like putting yourself right in their hands. If you lie, you keep the options open—nobody ever has the whole picture of you.”

Sophia shook her head. “So you never tell the truth?”

“No, I do. I tell you the truth.”

She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes.”

“I do,” Theo insisted. “About the important things, I do.”

“Why? What’s the difference?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know—with you I don’t mind.”

She looked at the flickering candle. “You didn’t tell me why you couldn’t go into Nochtland.”

“I should have, I know. But you could have asked me. You can ask me anything.”

“All right,” Sophia said. “Tell me about your hand. How did you find out about the Mark of Iron? You told Calixta you hurt it when your house fell apart. I’m guessing that’s not true.”

Theo turned so that he was facing the pile of clothes on the table. “Sure, I’ll tell you
the truth
about it,” he said, grinning. “But first, let’s eat.” He produced a loaf of bread, a bottle of milk, and a basket of figs. “I actually paid for these.”

Sophia smiled. “Thanks. That makes it taste a lot better.”

He lit another candle and pushed the clothing aside. Sophia had once again forgotten how much time had passed since her last meal, and the two of them fell on the bread and figs, washing it all down with milk from the glass bottle.

Theo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as she settled in her chair. “Okay. First, you’ve got to understand that outside of the Triple Eras, especially in the northern Baldlands, it’s no big deal to have the Mark of Iron. There are raiders who even say they’ve got more iron than they actually do—that’s how proud of it they are. Course, that can get you into trouble. I knew a raider named Ballast who claimed every bone in his body was made of iron. Well, you can imagine there were one or two other raiders who were happy to prove him wrong.” He chuckled. “Dangerous to boast about something like that.