The Glass Sentence (The Mapmakers Trilogy) by S. E. Grove Read Free Book Online Page A

frustration.
    Sophia realized as she did so that the room had grown dark. She picked up her watch: it was almost eighteen-hour.
Shadrack has been talking to her for so long,
she thought. As she descended the steps, she could hear his voice—steady, reassuring—coming from the study. But when she reached the open doorway she stopped abruptly, seeing that Mrs. Clay was weeping openly.
    “I can’t go back, Mr. Elli,” she said, with a note of terror in her voice.
    “I know, Mrs. Clay. I know. I only say this because I want you to be aware of how difficult it may be. Carlton will hopefully get us the papers, but the government-issued lifewatch is difficult to procure. That’s all—”
    “I can still hear the Lachrima. I can still hear its cries ringing in my ears. I would rather remain here illegally than go back.
I can’t.
”
    Sophia took an awkward step forward. “I am sorry to interrupt—”
    “And I am sorry we’ve kept you waiting, Soph. We’ll be in the kitchen momentarily,” said Shadrack, with a look that was apologetic but firm. Mrs. Clay wiped her nose with her handkerchief and did not look up.
    Sophia walked down the hallway, the question in her mind—
What is a Lachrima?—
unasked.

4
    Through the Library Door
    1891, June 15: 7-Hour 38
    This is New Occident’s Great Age of Exploration. Travelers head as far as their vessels, mounts, and feet will carry them. But exploration is dangerous work. Many explorers never return, and most of the world remains unknown. Even those places that can be explored prove terribly distant for all but the most elite traveler. Postal routes are fragmentary or nonexistent. Trade routes are painstakingly cultivated, only to crumble. To be connected to the world is a constant, difficult labor.
    —From Shadrack Elli’s
Hist ory of New Occident
    S OPHIA ALWAYS TOLD Shadrack everything; usually he knew what she was thinking without having to ask. And Shadrack told Sophia everything. At some point, he had realized that this oddly grown-up child had the maturity and capabilities of someone far older. He had known graduate students less able to keep their lives in order. And so he even shared the complexities of his work with his niece, making her far more knowledgeable about cartology than any other thirteen-year-old in Boston. They did not keep secrets from each other. Or so Sophia thought.
    The next morning, Sophia found Shadrack in his study, writing furiously. The mahogany desk and the ink blotter shook from the pressure of his urgent scribbling. When she came in, he pushed himself back from the table and gave her a tired smile.
    “Is Mrs. Clay still here?” Sophia asked.
    “She went upstairs around one-hour.”
    “You haven’t slept much.”
    “No,” Shadrack replied shortly. “Apparently everything that could go wrong has. You may as well read it yourself—you’ll see the news eventually.” He handed Sophia a newspaper that was lying, partially disassembled, on his desk.
    The principal story was, of course, the closure of the borders and the adoption of Rupert Middles’s Patriot Plan. But the rest of the headlines took Sophia’s breath away:
    FIREATSTATEHOUSETAKESTHREELIVES
    PARLIAMENTMEMBERMURDERED
    LEAVINGSTATEHOUSE
    MINISTEROFFOREIGNRELATIONS
    SUFFERS “ACCIDENT”
    Sophia gasped. “Carlton!” she cried.

    M INISTER of Relations with Foreign Ages Doctor Carlton Hopish was discovered this morning in his house on Beacon Hill, suffering from what appears to have been a grievous stroke to his nervous system. He was found by his charlady, Samantha Peddlefor, who described her employer’s condition when she came upon him as “horrifying.”
    Dr. Hopish has seemingly lost critical brain function. Doctors at Boston City Hospital say that it is too early to determine whether Dr. Hopish will be able to speak, let alone return to his duties as minister, any time soon.
    Considering Dr. Hopish’s crucial role in implementing the newly passed Patriot Plan, the