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
1891, June 29: 13-Hour 51
Metalmind: a derogatory term used in the Baldlands, especially Nochtland, to describe a person whose mind is “made of metal.” The only portion of the human body that can be made of metal, as far as we know, is the skeleton, therefore the term is used not literally but figuratively. To be “metalminded” is to be crass, brutish, violent, or stupid.
—From Veressa Metl’s Glossary of Baldlandian Terms
SOPHIA AND THEO 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: CONDEMNED. ROOT ROT. CITY ORDINANCE 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.”