“In New Occident,” Montaigne said, raising his eyebrows, “everything is for sale.” He reached into his jacket and drew out a long leather wallet. “Name the price, Miss Tims.”
“No matter what you say, I’m not selling it.”
Montaigne’s smile shrank at the edges. He stood up and put his hand to his head as if thinking. “Here’s the thing, Miss Tims,” he said. “Between the four of us, we have six revolvers. That makes three revolvers for each of you. A generous distribution, by any account. Added to which, you’re clearly not familiar with the ways of the Sandmen. For your sake, I hope you never have the need to know them better. You see, those fishhooks the Sandmen carry always snag the little fishes, however slippery they may be.” He tapped his cheek with a forefinger. “But I’ve never enjoyed taking things by force. It’s cheap. It’s distasteful. And,” he said, lifting the grappling hook nearest to him with one finger, “it can be so messy.” He walked up to the bunk so that his face was just in front of Sophia’s knees. Sophia recoiled, shifting farther back. “I would much rather arrange mutually beneficial terms. If you won’t take currency, perhaps you’ll be interested in an exchange. Does bartering appeal to you?”
“That depends,” Sophia said. “What do you have to trade?”
The smile was back on Montaigne’s face. “Just about anything. What would you like?”
“Shadrack. You can have the glass if you give me Shadrack.”
Montaigne’s smile broadened. “How did I know you might say that? What a good thing that I came prepared.” He reached into his coat once again for the long leather wallet, and he drew out a small piece of note paper. “I’m afraid Mr. Elli is ages away,” Montaigne said, “and I wouldn’t trade him anyway. But you might be interested in this.”
Without letting Sophia see what was on the paper, Montaigne carefully ripped it in half. He handed the top half to Sophia, who snatched it quickly from his hand. It read:
dear sophia,
There was no mistaking Shadrack’s handwriting. “Give me the rest of it!” she cried.
“Now, now,” Montaigne said. “As I said: I am willing to trade. You can have the rest of the letter when you give me the Tracing Glass.”
Sophia sat silently. The train was slowing down. They were doubtlessly nearing a station. The train lurched as it turned the corner, and she glanced down at the torn piece of paper in her hand. She wanted the rest of the letter. More than anything, she wanted to read for herself that Shadrack was safe. “All right,” she said.
“Sophia!” Theo burst out. “Don’t give it to him. Make him take the map if he wants it.”
Sophia glanced at him and shook her head. Montaigne nodded, smiling. “Smart girl.”
“Give me the letter.”
“The glass first, if you please.”
Sophia reached for her pack and pulled out the pillowcase. She drew out the sheet of glass that lay inside it and handed it over. Montaigne took it, held it up in his gloved hand, and peered through its clear surface. “Moonlight, eh?” he murmured again. “Very clever.” He turned to the other men. “All right, we’re done here.”
“The letter!” Sophia scrambled to the edge of the bunk.
“Don’t fret, Miss Tims—I always keep my word,” Montaigne said airily. He dropped the other half of the piece of notepaper on the bed.
Sophia snatched it up, and as the train slowed to a stop and the men began to file out of the compartment, she read Shadrack’s message:
T H Ey have said alL i cAn plaCe on tHis papeR Is your naMe.
—shAdrack
“Wait!” Sophia said. “That’s it?” She jumped down from the bunk. “You made him write it. It doesn’t even say anything!”
Montaigne winked once again. “I never said the letter was worth reading. That wasn’t part of the deal.”
Sophia grabbed his arm. “Where is he?” she asked, her voice near breaking. “Tell me he’s all right.”
Montaigne calmly freed his arm from Sophia’s grasp. “He’s not your concern any longer, little girl,” he said coldly. Every trace of amusement had vanished from his face. “You should bear that in mind.” He shut the door behind him.
13
The Western Line
1891, June 23: 11-Hour 36
New Akan: member of New Occident as of 1810. After the Disruption, the rebellion in Haiti ignited similar rebellions through the slave-holding territories. Uprisings in the former southern colonies of the British empire culminated in a second revolution that, after eight years of intermittent warfare, put an end to slavery and made possible the formation of a large southern state, named by leaders of the rebellion “New Akan.”
—From Shadrack Elli’s Atlas of the New World
SOPHIA RUSHED TO the window. As she’d expected, Montaigne and the other men were on the platform, walking away. They had gotten what they wanted.
“That’s him, Sophia,” Theo said. “Montaigne. I saw him outside your house.”
Sophia seemed not to hear him. “We should be in Charleston by dinnertime. But will it be dark by the time we leave?”
Theo stared at her as if she had lost her mind.
“I have to check,” she said, diving for the folded paper schedule that she’d left on the seat. “The connecting train for New Akan departs Charleston station at seventeen in the evening. We get in at near sixteen-hour, so we have about an hour before the connection.” She sat down with a look of frustration. “That’s very close.”
“I’d much rather not,” Theo said slowly, “but don’t you want to follow them? We can still get off. They might lead you to your uncle, and at the very least you can get the map back.”
Sophia shook her head. “No. I don’t want to be anywhere near them when it gets dark.”
The whistle blew and the train lurched forward. “Well, there they go,” Theo said. “And there goes your chance to follow them.” He looked out through the open window, and then he leaned forward abruptly.
“Hey—!” he said. He closed and opened the small window closest to him. It was set in a metal frame no larger than a sheet of paper and it shut with a small latch. The metal frame of the window was empty; the windowpane had been removed. “Sophia,” he said, the truth slowly dawning on him, “you gave them the windowpane?”
Sophia nodded. “I thought of it when you went to the washroom. I put the windowpane in the pillowcase. The map is in my sketchbook.” She bit her lip. “But once it gets dark and they look at it in the moonlight, they’ll know.”
Theo raised his eyebrows and dropped down on the seat beside her. “Not bad,” he muttered, under his breath.
“Maybe they’ll be too far from Charleston by that time,” Sophia continued. “Since they got off here. They might stay here or go north. They must not be going to Charleston. So we have a little time—depending on where they are when the moon comes out.”
Theo looked at her admiringly. “That’s a pretty slick move.”
“Yes,” she said, without enthusiasm. Now that Montaigne and the Sandmen were gone, she was starting to feel the weight of what she’d done. She clenched her hands tightly; they were trembling. “They will not be happy when they figure it out.”
“No doubt,” Theo said, leaning back. “Well, there’s nothing we can do until we get to Charleston. And at least now we have the train to ourselves.”
Sophia nodded. She felt no relief. She was thinking of the hooks that the Sandmen had carried, trying not to imagine how they put them to use. She shivered.