Shadrack took a deep breath. “Then we must hurry.”
—4-Hour 02: Drawing the Nighting Vine—
ALMOST AN HOUR later, Sophia, Veressa, and Shadrack were still drawing the nighting vine, each creating a copy in the hope that having duplicates would correct any discrepancies. Sophia’s eyes ached from concentrating in the poor firelight as she penciled in the last few lines and began checking the map. “You know,” she said softly to Theo, “you’d be pleased. I lied to Blanca. It was easy.”
Theo lay on his stomach and he turned to face her. “What did I tell you?” He smiled. “Comes in handy, doesn’t it?”
“I told her I’d try to persuade Shadrack to help her.”
He shook his head in mock dismay. “Next you’ll be lying to me. I’ll have to watch out from now on.”
Sophia laughed. She had checked her map twice; Veressa and Shadrack were still working. Setting her paper down on her pack, she closed her eyes and rested her head on her knees. She was dressed once again in her own clothes and her comfortable boots, having changed while Calixta held up her cloak like a screen. Theo had followed suit. They were the only two in dry clothes.
“Hey,” Theo said, holding up his bandaged hand. “Do you still have that sewing box? This is falling off.”
“I did keep it,” Sophia said, opening her eyes, “but it’s not here anymore.” She had found their clothing, spare bandages, Shadrack’s atlas, her pencils, and her notebook when she opened the pack Blanca had returned to her. But the sewing box was gone. “And it was so beautiful, too.” There was nothing she could use. Then something occurred to her, and she reached into her pocket for the spool of silver thread that Mrs. Clay had given her.
“Perfect,” Theo said when he saw it, holding out his hand.
As Sophia wound the silver thread over the bandage to hold it in place, her thoughts traveled elsewhere. There was no way of knowing whether she might see Mrs. Clay again, just as there was no way of Mrs. Clay’s knowing, when she gave Sophia the silver thread, that it would someday serve such an unlikely purpose. Is this what I was meant to use it for? she asked the Fates. No one knew what the Fates had planned; the future was truly inscrutable. As she tied the thread securely around Theo’s wrist, the thought gave her an unexpected surge of hope. Nothing is set in stone. The glaciers aren’t here yet.
Shadrack and Veressa had finished, and as they hastily compared their maps, Burr made two torches from pieces of his torn shirt affixed to foot-long shards of glass from the pit. “We must hurry,” Martin said anxiously, “before the guards return.”
“We are hurrying, Father.” Veressa looked at Sophia’s drawing of the nighting vine. “But we can’t afford to get lost; we must be certain of the maps before we set out.”
Burr handed a torch to Calixta. “This is the best we can do. We may burn through every scrap of our clothing before we make our way out.”
“Burn your own clothes,” Calixta muttered. “You’re certainly not burning mine.”
—4-Hour 17: Entering the Labyrinth—
AS A GROUP they passed, with faintly echoing footsteps, across the floor of the underground chamber. The fires flickered ominously, and smoke spiraled upward toward the blackened ceiling. When they reached the dark entryway at the far end, the cold air of the labyrinth reached out for them. They stood silently for a moment. “May we soon see daylight,” Veressa said, taking a deep breath.
She walked in front with her map, illuminated by Calixta’s torch, followed by Theo, Martin, and Sophia; Shadrack and Burr, with map and torch, brought up the rear. The muddy floor led to a long, straight passageway cut directly into the stone. It was clear that it had not been used in some time. Martin had to walk carefully to avoid slipping, and after a few steps he placed his hand on Theo’s shoulder to steady himself.
They reached a set of steps that led deeper underground. “Here is the first turn,” Veressa said as they reached the base of the steps, “you agree with me that we go left, Shadrack? Sophia?”
They had traced the simplest route through the labyrinth, and if Sophia’s theory was correct, then they had only to follow it to find their way out. The tunnel Veressa led them into was much narrower than the first, and the heavy stones on either side were cold to the touch. An atmosphere of chilled humidity replaced the smoky air of the prison cavern.
“This one is so much smaller,” Sophia said to Martin
“It’s what makes the tunnels so confusing,” he replied with effort. “The few soil samples I did take confirmed that they were made in many different Ages. There are various networks, some of which were deliberately integrated by human hands, others of which appear to connect entirely by chance. So, you see, it is a maze across many Ages.”
“How many?”
“No one knows. Maybe four, maybe four hundred. I myself have never been past the entryway.”
Step after step, tunnel after tunnel, they wormed their way through the dark labyrinth. It was almost as if they were walking in place—so much so that Sophia found time slipping away from her. She began counting her paces in order to keep track, and as she did, she felt mounting disbelief at how far the maze extended. As she reached two hundred and seventy paces, the air suddenly grew warmer, and someone at the front of the line exclaimed in surprise. “What have you found?” asked Shadrack.
“A crypt of some kind,” Veressa replied, waiting for the others to join her.
They had reached a low room whose stone floor was covered with indecipherable chiseled writing. The niches in the walls looked like shelves, and as Burr and Calixta held their torches aloft, Sophia saw bundles of crumbling cloth. “Burr!” Calixta exclaimed. A heavy sword lay over one of the bundles. She took it up at once and made an experimental pass. “Heavy, but perfectly effective. Thank you, friend,” Calixta murmured to the cloth bundle. Sophia gripped the silver thread in her pocket, thanking the Fates.
“There must be more.” Burr held his torch up to the other niches.
As they searched the crypt, Sophia heard a faint sound, like the distant rumble of footsteps. “Did anyone hear that?”
“Might be left over from the flash flood,” Martin said. “There will be a fair amount of readjustment going on underground.” At that moment, Burr found another sword. He eagerly claimed it, and they left the low chamber.
Beyond the crypt was a circular room with five arched entryways. Veressa checked her drawing and followed the second tunnel on the right into a narrow passage with rotting wooden floorboards. Sophia recommenced counting her steps as she watched Martin’s shoes before her. At the one hundred mark, she noticed the botanist furtively take his hand from his pocket and drop something.
“What are you doing, Martin?” Sophia asked quietly.
“Just a little experiment, dear.” She could not see his face but she imagined him winking at her. “I have seeds in my pockets.”
She was contemplating with some trepidation what kind of experiment Martin intended to perform when there was a sudden exclamation from Veressa. They had reached a dead end.
“We’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere,” Veressa said worriedly, peering at her map. Shadrack huddled with her and they compared routes. “I thought we were here.” She pointed at her paper. “Sophia?”
Sophia joined them, holding her map up to the torchlight. “We must have turned off this way by mistake,” Shadrack said, tracing downward.
“Let’s turn back, then.” Veressa’s voice was tense with frustration. “You may as well go in front for a while.”