Martin reached across the table and took his daughter’s hand. “Shadrack and I could not resolve our difference of opinion,” she said sadly. “And our arguments grew increasingly bitter. I think, beneath it all, we were suffering from guilt. The Lachrima had asked us for help and we had fled. Finally, by way of compromise and out of respect for my wishes, Shadrack agreed to separate the maps as a way of minimizing their potential power. The glass map was a formidable instrument, but alone it could not tell the whole story of the Disruption. I know that he has used it with the utmost wisdom, relying on its excellent quality to draw exquisite maps of his own. He has only used the tracing glass to add knowledge to the world of cartology, and he has tried to keep its existence hidden. Nevertheless, its reputation has traveled. Even here, I heard rumors of what came to be known as the ‘Polyglot Tracing Glass.’ It was inevitable that as its reputation grew, so would covetous explorers and cartologers seek to find it. The other three maps were mere stage scenery without the glass layer. I kept them.
“Shadrack and I parted on bad terms. He wrote to me only once, to tell me that he had returned to Talisman’s home, but the man’s mind was past repair. Shadrack freed the Lachrima, who fled at once, and brought Talisman to Nochtland, where he settled him in a convent hospital. From time to time I visit. He is like a child now—lost in some private world which the rest of us cannot see. But Shadrack I never heard from again—until now.” She smiled wanly at Sophia. “And so, with you, the glass map returns to Nochtland.”
“But where are the other three, my child?” Martin demanded. “I have never seen such maps here.”
Veressa sighed. “They are in the library safe. The four maps are together in the same place once more.”
24
Into the Sand
1891, June 26: Shadrack Missing (Day 6)
Arboldevela: A term to describe the arbol de vela, or sailing tree, a vehicle powered by wind and used to navigate both on land and on water. Early models were developed for the court of Leopoldo. Stored wind-power generated by the sails is used to propel the vehicle with woven wheels that convert to paddle wheels when used in water. Common in the Triple Eras and the northern periphery.
—From Veressa Metl’s Glossary of Baldlandian Terms
SHADRACK KNEW THAT they would soon be abandoning the train, because all morning the Sandmen had been packing Blanca’s belongings. He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand. He had rapidly transferred his memories into the rectangular sheet of copper, and now the painstaking work of ordering and manifesting those memories into a map had begun. Shadrack leaned over the copper sheet with a magnifying glass, studying the pattern of oxidation he had created. His tools—a microscope, an array of small hammers and chisels, a case full of vials with colored liquids, and a brazier with cold, ashy coals—lay around him on the table. Weeping stood by, watching Shadrack’s progress with studied patience. The two had hardly exchanged another word, but Weeping had somehow communicated their lie to Blanca, and she had not returned.
Shadrack estimated that the train had almost reached the border of the Baldlands. He had no notion where Blanca would go once the rails ended. His time was running short; he would have to make his attempt to flee soon.
As he scraped gently at the metal sheet, the door suddenly opened. Blanca entered, followed by four Sandmen. “We are leaving the Bullet,” she announced. “Your niece has boarded a ship called the Swan in New Orleans, and the ship’s destination is Veracruz.” It sounded as if she was smiling. “So we are heading south. When we reach the border, we will board a boldevela and travel to Veracruz.”
Shadrack deliberately did not acknowledge her. “I give you this information as a courtesy,” Blanca added, “and so that you are assured of being soon reunited with your niece. Your map of the carta mayor’s location should be ready just in time.” Her attention turned to the copper map. “Have you completed it?”
“Not quite,” Shadrack said quickly.
“Let me see it,” she said.
“I would like to finish it before you read it.”
Blanca reached across the table and picked up the map. “A match, Weeping.”
Weeping hesitated only a moment before drawing a matchbox from his jacket pocket. He lit a match and held it before him. Blanca held the map to the flame, then set it down on the table; its entire surface swarmed with inscrutable drawings. She quickly pulled off one of her gloves and placed her fingertips on the copper surface. Shadrack was tense with anticipation.
For several seconds she stood motionless; then she pulled her hand away from the map as if burned. “This cannot be its location, because this place no longer exists. How do you know this place?” she whispered. “Tell me how you know it!” The fear and anger coursed through her words and into the room, palpable and overwhelming. Weeping winced and stumbled backward.
Shadrack felt the rush of blood in his ears as he rose abruptly from his chair. “I would ask you the same,” he shot back, trying to stay calm. The sound of her voice alone was enough to make the steadiest heart skip a beat.
“How do you know this place?” She nearly choked on her scream.
Clearly, even Weeping had never seen Blanca in such a state. The other men stared at her in terror, paralyzed. “I have been there,” Shadrack said evenly. “And so have you.”
“You lied to me,” Blanca wailed, charging around the table. “You deceived me.”
“I said I would draw you a map.”
She strode toward him, her fury spilling forth like flames from a burning house, and for a moment Shadrack believed she was going to throw herself upon him. She stopped, her veiled face inches from his; he expected any moment to feel the force of her exploding anger. Then suddenly she shrank visibly, as if the fire had been doused, and Shadrack heard nothing but ragged breaths. The veil shook before his face. “I see how you are, now,” she said, her voice trembling. “You are cruel. Impossibly cruel to remind me of that place. How could you?”
“I did not intend to be cruel,” Shadrack said. His voice was earnest but firm. “I intended to show you that I understand.” He stared into the veil. “If you would but let them see the map,” he added softly, “they would understand as well.”
Blanca turned suddenly, electrified. “Who else knew of this?”
The Sandmen shook their heads. Weeping looked at her with fire in his eyes and said nothing.
“What did he tell you he would draw?” Blanca demanded.
“He said he would explain my name. The origin of the weeping. I wish to understand the truth,” Weeping added firmly—perhaps recklessly.