“The next day, I heard it again—the moment I awoke—and the horrible sensation of grief returned. Before even getting dressed, I knocked on the doors of the rooms to my right and left. No one was weeping; no one could tell me where the sound I heard came from. Still, I believed that there had to be someone who was hiding, sneaking into corners to cry in private. And over the next few days, the weeping grew more constant. I began to hear it everywhere, all the time, even when others were present. And then they began to hear it, too.
“Wherever I went, the sound of weeping followed, and the sadness began to wear on me; though I knew it had no rational cause, as long as the weeping was audible my grief was uncontrollable. The sound was heartbreaking. At times, the thing I heard wept quietly, bitterly. At other times, it moaned and sobbed. And still other times it nearly screamed, as if subjected to some terrible violence. I had no choice, then, but to accept the truth: I was being followed by a Lachrima.”
Theo made a noise of surprise. “A real Lachrima?”
Sophia remembered what she had heard Mrs. Clay saying to Shadrack, on the day parliament had closed the borders, and she asked the question she had been unable to ask then. “What’s a Lachrima?’
“I’ve never seen one,” Theo said. “They’re supposed to be horrible.”
The housekeeper nodded sadly. “They are. No one knows what the Lachrima are or where they come from. Some believe they are spirits. Others believe they are creatures from a terrible future Age. There are so many stories about them that it’s hard to know which are true. All I know is what I heard—and saw.”
“You saw it?” Theo asked breathlessly.
“For several weeks, the professors at the academy put up with it very kindly, insisting that the presence of the Lachrima was no fault of mine. But the truth is that everyone—not just me—found it unbearable. Imagine what it is like to hear the sound of weeping all the time—even when you are trying to sleep. Imagine feeling that burden of inexplicable, inconsolable grief. For the sake of the others, I shut myself up in my room, thinking that, if I simply waited, the Lachrima would tire of following me and go on its way.
“One night that week, I finally saw it. The exhaustion of several days without sleep caught up with me, and I fell finally into a heavy slumber. I woke in the middle of the night to a terrible sound—horrible cries, like those made by a frightened animal. I sat up with a start, my heart pounding. And then I saw it. The Lachrima was huddled by my bed.”
“What did it look like?” Theo asked eagerly.
“Very much as I’d heard it described, only far more frightening than I’d imagined. It was tall and slender, dressed in thin white robes that trailed down to the floor. Its hair was dark and very long, and its face was buried in its hands. Its whole appearance was worn, as if it had lived for years in some dirty corner and was only now emerging. And then, as it continued to weep, the Lachrima lowered its hands from its face.
“I could never have imagined anything so horrible. I saw that its face—its face wasn’t there. The Lachrima had only smooth white skin: skin that showed clearly the shape of its eye sockets and mouth and jaw; skin that looked as if someone had smoothed away all its features.
“For a moment I was too terrified to do anything. And then I bolted from my bed and ran. Though I fled to the other side of the house, I could still hear its distant wails. When I returned to my room at dawn it was empty, but the sound was still in my ears, and I knew, then, that I had to leave. That very morning I packed my belongings and told the director of the academy. He didn’t try to stop me.
“Part of me had, perhaps, hoped that if I left the academy the Lachrima would remain behind. But of course this didn’t happen. For months I tried to outrun it, staying first in Nochtland and then in the smaller towns outside it. Everywhere I went the Lachrima followed, bringing me and everyone near me nothing but terror and despair. After many months of attempting to elude it, I finally made my way north to the border. I no longer cared where I went or what I did, as long as the sound of weeping stopped. The grief wore so heavily upon me that I could not remember what it felt like to live without it. In those days I had yet to discover my faith in the Fates, for the people of the Baldlands follow other religions. But now that I know and believe in those fickle, kind, cruel, and mysterious powers, I believe they were setting me on a deliberate path. They had woven a terrible net around me and were insistently drawing me forward.
“On a day in November, more than a year after the Lachrima first appeared, I found myself in the northern Baldlands, near the border of New Akan. A family of traders was leaving the state, and they took pity on me and took me with them. We entered New Occident at night, and I remember that I fell asleep in the open wagon, listening to the quiet, incessant weeping and watching the stars above me. Then I fell asleep.
“When I awoke, it was midmorning and the young mother sitting next to me in the wagon was quieting her crying baby. The baby began sucking its fingers and a complete silence fell upon us. I could hear the steady clomp of the horses’ hooves and the creaking of the wagon wheels and the satisfied noises of the drowsy baby. The weeping of the Lachrima had stopped.
“I knew only one person in New Occident—your uncle, Sophia—and I went about trying to find him. Fortunately, he had made quite a name for himself, and it wasn’t difficult to learn that he lived in Boston. I took the train, and when I arrived I asked Shadrack to help me. He was kinder than I ever could have expected—as you know, Sophia. You have both been very kind to me. With time, I discovered that though the Lachrima was gone, it had left me changed. Now I cannot bear to be in silence. And I find that I can no longer concentrate as I used to.” Mrs. Clay shook her head. “My mind isn’t what it was. Still, living with the memory of the Lachrima is better than living with the Lachrima itself. You see now, don’t you, why I can never go back?”
9
Departure
— 1891, June 22, 0-Hour 54—
Citizens of New Occident who wish to travel beyond its borders must now carry the identity papers and lifewatch issued at birth, along with an official birth certificate. The serial number engraved on the lifewatch must correspond to the identity number found on the birth certificate. Certified copies by a clerk of court are acceptable in cases where originals have been destroyed.
—Parliamentary decree, June 14, 1891
THEO HAD TO satisfy his curiosity about the appearance of the Lachrima, and Sophia had to learn as much as she could about Veressa. Mrs. Clay told them what she knew, and it was very late when they finally exhausted their questions. She persuaded them to stay the night in her sitting room, in case anyone came to the house, saying that they would all decide what to do in the morning.
The tinkling sound of the chimes above Sophia’s head and the anxious thoughts coursing through her brain prevented her from sleeping. The image of Shadrack being led out of the house returned to her, followed by a vision of a faceless creature, wild with grief. Sophia opened her eyes to dispel the image. She could see in the dim light that Theo, bedded down on the carpet, wasn’t sleeping either.
“Poor Mrs. Clay,” Sophia whispered. “I had no idea she had such a terrible story in her past.”
“I wish I’d seen the Lachrima,” Theo whispered back.