Sophia, absorbed as she was in Veressa’s story, let out a gasp. “Of course! That is why none exist in Boston.”
Veressa nodded. “At that moment I understood, and I could see that Shadrack did as well. ‘The Lachrima,’ he said.
“‘Yes!’ Talis exclaimed. ‘What we call the Lachrima, who weep for the surfeit of memories, among which their own are utterly lost: the Lachrima who weep even as their long lives fade, so that before expiring they are nothing more than a sound, a lament. They are truly the lost souls of this earth.’
“I then realized the meaning of what I had heard the day before. ‘Can it be,’ I asked him, ‘that we have heard a Lachrima here—in your home?’
“He rose from his chair. ‘Follow me!’ he said, hurrying from the room. ‘You have heard a Lachrima who has lived with me for nearly three years!’ We were stunned. ‘Yes!’ he said breathlessly. ‘Three years!’ He stopped suddenly and laid a clammy hand on my arm. ‘And I have attempted to save it.’ He rushed onward, through the twisting hallways, and we followed him, riveted and horrified. Finally, at the end of a long corridor, we reached a door that was heavily chained. Catching his breath, Talis took a key from his pocket and unlocked the massive lock that held the chain in place. ‘Quiet,’ he whispered, ‘it sleeps.’
“He slowly opened the door. The room was small, with high ceilings; bright light poured into the room from a barred window. Underneath the window was a narrow bed, and at first I could not identify what I saw upon it. It was a shape—a female figure only partly hidden by white sheets. There was something draped across it that I suddenly realized was the Lachrima’s arm. It was entirely covered with strangely colored designs that I took for some peculiar pattern on its clothing. Then the Lachrima turned toward us, and I saw the long, pale hair that trailed across the bed and onto the floor. And the face—oh, the face. It was horribly wounded and scarred, as if it had been repeatedly cut in long lines. ‘You see!’ Talisman whispered, gesturing with trembling pride. ‘My great cartologic invention. I have drawn the map upon its skin.’
“I understood then that the web of unintelligible markings that I had taken for clothing were lines of ink drawn upon the body of the Lachrima. Shadrack frowned. ‘But what have you done to its face?’ he asked.
“‘With careful incisions,’ Talisman exclaimed, ‘I have twice almost found its hidden features!’
“I shuddered, taking Shadrack’s arm, and a cry must have escaped my lips, for the Lachrima suddenly stirred and lifted its head. It faced us in silence, its horribly scarred countenance a mockery of a human face; and then suddenly it let out a terrible, heartrending cry. Covering its face with hands that were, like its arms, laden with inscrutable markings—it shrieked over and over, as if in agony. The shriek resolved itself into words: ‘HELP ME! HELP ME!’
“I bolted from the room, dragging Shadrack behind me, and Talis followed us hurriedly, locking the heavy door. But it did not muffle the cries of the Lachrima, and I felt that if they continued, I would lose my mind. Then I saw from Talisman’s face that he was even more affected than I. He dropped to his knees, suddenly, and looked up at us. ‘Apff?’ he said, in the high, gurgling voice of an infant.
“‘What is wrong with him?’ I cried.
“‘I don’t know,’ Shadrack replied. ‘He seems to think he is a child.’ The shrieking of the Lachrima continued, and I knew that I could bear it no longer. I turned and ran down the corridor, fleeing from the sound and from the frightening sight of Talisman on his hands and knees. Shadrack ran after me, and though we lost our way in the hallways more than once, we finally found our way back to the dining room and from there to the bedrooms to gather our belongings. We seized them and ran toward the stables, where we had left our hired horses. I was trembling from hand to foot, and I could barely manage the saddle. And yet, as we were readying the horses, the sound of the Lachrima faded and finally stopped. Still, I wanted nothing more than to leave as quickly as possible.
“Suddenly Talisman threw open the stable door and came unsteadily toward us. I felt an irrational fear surge through me. ‘Please,’ he said faintly. ‘Wait—I beg you.’ I would not have waited, but Shadrack hesitated, moved by pity. The old man looked beaten down and exhausted, and I understood then the constant expression of grief that he wore, even when he was not under the Lachrima’s spell. He carried a wrapped bundle carefully in his arms, and as he walked toward us he shifted it to one hand and held his other out toward us appealingly. ‘I beg you,’ he said again, hoarsely. ‘Wait.’
“‘We are leaving, Talisman,’ Shadrack said firmly.
“‘I know, I know,’ he said, crestfallen. ‘I know it frightens you. It frightens me as well, but I must explain to you. Someone must know. The Lachrima’s cries confuse my sense of time. I lose my way—I know not who I am nor where I am, nor when I am.’
“‘Let the Lachrima go free,’ Shadrack implored. ‘Come away with us. We will find you a doctor in Nochtland. Your mind might still be restored with care and rest.’
“Talis shook his head. ‘I cannot. It is my life’s work. I aim to restore that creature’s mind, even if it costs me my own.’
“‘But can you not see the further damage you are doing? You are restoring nothing!’
“‘I am drawing a map of its life upon its skin. Then it will remember its one, true life.’
“‘I ask you once more to show it mercy and leave with us,’ Shadrack said, taking the old man’s arm.
“Talis pulled away and handed Shadrack the bundle. ‘If you must go, take these with you. They are too valuable to be left here, where they might soon be lost with me.’ He smiled feebly. ‘Do not fear—they are maps like those you know. They hold the key to a great mystery, and it will not do for them to be buried with an old man.’
“Shadrack accepted them, at a loss for words, and Talis stepped back. He raised his arm as if bidding us farewell and slowly left the stables. Shadrack seemed to hesitate, debating what to do. Then he put the package in his saddlebag and mounted his horse. ‘Let us leave this place,’ he said to me.
“We returned to Nochtland without stopping, and we could not bring ourselves to speak of what had happened. Back at the academy, we sat listlessly at our desks, thinking only of what we had seen—of that tormented creature and how little we had done to save her. Shadrack came to my room the following day with the bundle that Talisman had given him. ‘I think we should look at these together,’ he said.
“Inside the carefully wrapped bundle we found four maps—glass, clay, metal, and cloth. Four maps that fit together and told a tragic story. Despite the horror we had felt during our visit, we recognized that the maps were, indeed, keys to a great mystery. After studying the maps we came to the same conclusion: they held a memory of how the Great Disruption had come to pass.”
Everyone at the table gasped, and Veressa looked down at the glass map. “What we could not agree on,” she continued in a subdued voice, “was what to do with the maps. The glass map, in particular, since apart from being a memory map, it was clearly also a tracing map—a lens used to identify and draw other maps. Shadrack believed we should use them for exploration, to discover where the Disruption had taken place. It was his theory that if we followed the maps we would find the carta mayor—the fabled water map that shows the living world. The idea had occurred to both of us; indeed, among cartologers, it would have occurred to anyone. But I,” Veressa paused, shaking her head, “I feared the maps would lead to ill. The carta mayor is a dangerous legend, and it has led many explorers to disappointment or death. Some say it is an ordinary water map. Some say it has much greater power: that the carta mayor does not only show all possible worlds—past, present, and future—but that it also offers the power to change them. A change in the map produces a change in the world. Who knows if such a thing is true, but it hardly matters; the rumor of such power is enough. People believe what they will. I worried about what would happen if the maps fell into the wrong hands.”