The Glass Sentence

38 A Fair Wind, a Fair Hand

1891, July 2: 10-Hour #

Lachrima: From the Latin word for “tear.” Related to the vernacular, lágrima. In the Baldlands and elsewhere the term is used to describe the faceless beings that are more often heard than seen. The sound of their weeping is legendary, and it is said that to hear the cry of the Lachrima is to know the fullest extent of human grief.

—From Veressa Metl’s Glossary of Baldlandian Terms

AS THE HALL of Remembrances fell, the glaring light that had lined the glacier’s edge faded, and the slow encroachment ceased. The ice stood motionlessly on the plains outside Nochtland, and a new change began. The bright sun began to melt the glacier, releasing a shallow current, as if a block of ice were melting on a tabletop. At first, the change was imperceptible, but as the sun continued to shine on the ice, it became impossible to ignore. The waters rose over the plains in a quiet flood.

Some, at least, were well prepared. Near the high ice-cliff that formed the edge of the glacier, a magnificent boldevela with bright green sails wheeled through the water at breakneck speed. It skirted the edge of the glacier, driving onward through the water on its high wheels until the depth of the water raised the ship. The ship sailed on, its wheels propelling it through the water and the cold wind billowing through the sails. Standing at the tiller shouting orders was the polite pirate, Burton Morris. “I said a ROPE, not soap,” Burr hollered to Peaches, who was running toward him holding a bucket and a brush.

The pirates of the Swan had, for once, succeeded in living up to their name. Traveling inland upon news of the strange weather-front moving north, they had commandeered the most magnificent boldevela they could find on the road from Veracruz and sailed it all the way to Nochtland. There they had found the entire city in disarray. It was perhaps something more than luck that drove Grandmother Pearl to insist on a southeasterly route directly toward the ominous glaciers. In the rocky hills southeast of the city near Lake Cececpan, they had come to an abrupt halt as she held her head alertly, listening.

“But how can you hear anything over this storm?” Peaches had protested.

“Hush, Peaches,” she had said. “Is there a cave nearby?” she asked, turning inquiringly toward him.

So they had sailed straight toward the dark opening of the cave that they had sighted in the hills, arriving just in time to see Burr, Calixta, and four other dirty spelunkers emerging from the tunnels. Now they were all sailing with the wind, and they raced as fast as they could toward the pyramid collapsing in a burst of white snow.

SOPHIA RAN TOWARD the faint flash of silver that moved across the ice toward her. Her boots seemed to grasp at the snow and cling to it until her feet were two massive snowballs. But she thought the figure was getting larger. She stopped to kick snow from her boots. Her breath came painfully as she leaned forward and kept running.

And then, after what seemed like hours, she saw him clearly: Theo, waving his hand bandaged with silver thread. I see what you planned now, Fates, Sophia thought as she gasped for breath. I can see how carefully you devised this. They collided, Theo laughing as he wrapped his arms around her and Sophia stumbling in her snow-covered boots. “You brought it down!” he shouted.

Sophia shook her head, leaving great white puffs of breath in the air. “I didn’t.”

“What do you mean you didn’t? Look! The whole thing’s come down.”

She turned and saw the snow settling over the ruins of the great hall. “Blanca—she and I, we destroyed it.”

“Blanca?” Theo squinted. “Where is she?”

Sophia shook her head. “She did not—” She held the straps of the pack tightly and turned away from the collapsed pyramid. “She is gone.”

Theo’s eye lingered over the ruins, but then he turned away, to his left. “Let’s get off this ice—I’m freezing.” He looked back and grinned. “The pirates got hold of a ship!”

They ran at an easy pace to the craggy edge of the ice that formed the border of the Glacine Age, squinting against the glaring sunlight. “What about the others?” Sophia asked, out of breath but too anxious not to ask.

“They’re all on the ship.”

“How did you get out of the tunnels?”

“Shadrack. It’s like he had the whole map in his head. He ran around until we lost the Sandmen. Calixta and Burr fought them off and nabbed a couple pistols. Still, it took us hours to find a way out.”

Sophia felt a rush of relief. Shadrack was safe.

They slowed as they reached the incline at the edge of the glacier. Stumbling over the sharp outgrowths of ice, they began climbing steadily toward the ridge. They both slipped more than once; the rough surface was growing slick in the fierce sunlight. Sophia’s hands grew numb as she seized the ice and hauled herself up. Theo went on ahead of her, and a moment later he gave a shout of exultation. “We’re at the top! Look,” he said, pointing. “Everything is melting.”

Below her lay a scene she could never have imagined and would never forget. The city of Nochtland was still little more than a gray lump in the distance. All around it, like a scattering of black sand on a pale stone, were thousands and thousands of people. Sophia would not have known they were people had the crowds not extended all the way from the city to the edges of the rising waters. Fleeing the glacier’s advance, they were running or riding or trudging northward. Some traveled in wagons, others in boldevelas. Some had clearly attempted to bring as many of their belongings as they could. Others walked with nothing at all. The rising waters had already pushed the refugees farther north, and at the edge of the ice pieces of clothing, a broken boldevela wheel, and other debris floated loosely.

Theo waved, and the sunlight glinted off the silver thread that held his bandage in place. “There they are.” He pointed in the direction of Nochtland, at a tall boldevela that was streaming toward them through the debris.

As the ship approached, Sophia saw Burr perched on the mast. It slowed and he waved. “Aye, there, castaways!” he shouted and threw something toward them, paying out the rope. “Make sure it’s well secured.”

A four-pronged hook caught in the ice, and Theo pounded it down with his foot. As he did so, Sophia tightened the pack across her chest. “You first,” he said.

Sophia edged down onto the rope with some difficulty, but once she had her ankles hooked around it, she was able to slide down toward the ship’s mast. Burr grabbed her by the waist and swung her onto a foothold among the clipped branches of the mast. “Can you climb down yourself?” he asked. She nodded, but before descending she looked up to watch Theo. He swung onto the rope and nimbly shimmied down. Sophia began descending farther to make room, just as if she were climbing down the trunk of a tree, and a moment later she looked up to see Burr hauling Theo to safety. With both of them securely perched on the mast, Burr cut the rope. “We’re off!” he shouted.

As soon as her boots hit the deck, Sophia was surrounded.

Veressa threw her arms around her. “We were so worried about you!”

Sophia smiled, but her eyes searched for the one person she had not yet seen. “Where’s Shadrack?”

“I’ll take you to him, sweetheart,” Calixta said, leading Sophia by the hand. “He’s just resting below deck.”

“We’re relieved you’re back, Sophia,” Martin said, giving her shoulder a quick squeeze.

The luxurious boldevela had a spiral staircase that descended into a long corridor; the vine-covered walls were studded with pale flowers. Sophia followed Calixta into a large bedroom. The portholes cast a sunny light on the bedding, and buttercups grew in the cracks between the floorboards. Grandmother Pearl sat in an embroidered armchair beside the bed where Shadrack, lying back on the pillows, propped himself up as they entered. “Sophia!” he cried.

“Shadrack!” In an instant she was by his side. “Are you all right?” She pulled back at once and looked down at him critically. Why was he here?

He smiled and tucked Sophia’s hair behind her ears so that he could see her face. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. You won’t believe everything that happened.”

He laughed. “Perfect. You can sit next to Grandmother Pearl and tell me all about it, because I’ll be here a while longer.” He drew the covers back, revealing his bandaged right leg.

“What happened?”

“Afraid one of those pesky bullets caught me while we were underground. I’m beginning to understand why people in Nochtland dislike metal so much.”

“How bad is it?” Sophia asked, looking at his bandaged leg.

“Not bad.” He drew up the blankets. “Grandmother Pearl, I have learned, is a wonderful medic in addition to being a diviner, a storyteller, a weather reader, and who knows what else.”

The old woman smiled. “He has strong bones and a strong heart. Now that you’re here, he has everything he needs to get better.”

Sophia put her arm around her and squeezed gratefully. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.

“It’s wonderful to hear your voice again, dear,” the old woman replied. “You’ve been busy, haven’t you? You need some food and water in you. And some rest.”

“I believe Sophia has stopped the glaciers all on her own, Grandmother,” Calixta put in.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Whether it was all your own doing or not,” Grandmother Pearl said, hugging her, “the cold air has dropped and the ice is falling back. We’re on a fair wind again—can’t you feel it?”

Sophia went to the open porthole. Leaning out, she saw the cold waters below, the city of Nochtland ahead, and the blue skies above. She could hear the sails of the boldevela, leaves flapping in the wind, and the voices of Burr and the other pirates on deck. But she also heard a sound in the distance that made her heart race: a constant murmur, like the high-pitched whine of a thousand sirens.

Sophia drew her head back into the cabin. “It does seem a fair wind. But—that sound. What is it?”

“It’s the Lachrima, my dear. I’m afraid there are many more in the world today than there were before.”