S. Grove - The Glass Sentence

The house was a disaster. Something intent on destruction had swept through it. Food and broken dishes lay strewn across the kitchen floor. The rugs in the hallway were twisted and shoved together, while remains of burnt papers and maps littered the stove. Almost all the framed maps that normally hung in every room had been knocked down, leaving the papered walls bare. Even some of the floorboards had been torn up. And lying before her near the entryway was a long red feather. She stood for a moment, her panic mounting, and then she dropped the green feather, threw aside the new pack that hung from her shoulder, and ran toward the study.

“Shadrack!” she shouted. “Shadrack!”

He was not there. Maps lay scattered everywhere, many of them torn. The books had been pulled from the shelves and lay on the ground in haphazard piles. With horror, Sophia saw the door to the map room standing open.

“Shadrack?” she called, her voice unsteady, from the top of the stairs. There was no answer. She descended slowly, the wooden treads creaking beneath her feet. When she reached the bottom she stood dazed at the chaos before her.

The glass cases had been shattered, their contents gone. The bureaus lay open, their drawers bare. Here, too, the books had been pulled from the shelves and thrown to the floor. The cabinets that held paper maps stood empty. Sophia took in the destruction, too stunned to call out again. Everything, every single thing in the map room, had been destroyed or stolen. A broken glass map crunched beneath her boot and she looked down blankly at the shards. There was a long, jagged scar across the leather-topped table. She touched it gingerly, as if to make certain that it was real. Then she raised her head and her eye fell on the wall map above the armchairs: the map of her parents’ voyage. It had been torn in half, ripped clear through from one end to the other.

Sophia stared numbly at the pins that lay scattered around her on the chairs and carpet, a single thought running through her mind: Where is he? Where is Shadrack? Where is he? Then she heard a sound at the other end of the room, and for a moment she was unable to run or scream or even move. Heart pounding in her chest, she forced herself to turn slowly in the direction of the stairs. She saw nothing. It had been only a soft shuffle, but she had heard it, and now she was certain: it had come from the heavy wardrobe below the staircase.

She tiptoed across the carpet, avoiding the glass and picking up the broken leg of a chair. She held it before her with both hands. When she reached the steps, she stopped to listen and heard nothing but the rush of blood in her ears. She reached the wardrobe and paused, standing in front of it silently. Then she reached for the brass handle and in one smooth movement swung open the door.

Feathers , she thought, as the thing that burst from the wardrobe knocked her down flat. She lay there, stunned, staring up at the ceiling, and suddenly a face appeared above hers. The face seemed to have feathers sprouting from it in every direction.

Looking down at Sophia was the boy from Ehrlach’s Circus of the Ages.

1891, June 21, 15-Hour 52

Consider that we do not even know for certain whether the Great Disruption was caused by mankind and, if so, which Age of mankind caused it. Too many Ages remain unknown, entirely uncharted and beyond communication. Of the Ages we do know, all were thrust into a common confusion and chaos in the first years after the Disruption. All suffered disorientation, or sudden isolation, or unending cycles of violence. What Age would willingly bring this upon itself?

—From Shadrack Elli’s History of the New World

“HEY,” THE BOY said. “Are you okay?”

Sophia blinked.

“I’m sorry I knocked you over,” he said. “Are you okay? Say something.”

She raised herself on her elbow. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m all right.” She stared at the boy sitting next to her on the carpet. “You were in the wardrobe,” she said.

“I was hiding. Where were you ?”

“I just got here. I was out.” Now that the worst was over, the fear began to move in. She felt a cold tremor. The boy reached out a hand to help her, and she recoiled sharply.

“Hey, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” He spoke softly, with the truncated words and low twang of the northwest Baldlands. “I didn’t do this.”

Sophia got to her feet. “What happened? Where’s Shadrack?”

The boy looked at her with an odd expression. “Is he your father?”

She shook her head. Her jaw trembled so violently that her teeth had begun to chatter. “He’s my uncle. Where is he?” She glanced quickly across the room. “I have to look upstairs.”

“No, wait.” The boy held up a hand to stop her. “Don’t. He’s not there,” he said quietly.

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know—I don’t know where he is now.”

“But you saw him?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I saw him.” He was studying her, trying to decide what to say. “Do you live here? With Shadrack Elli?”

It was strange to hear her uncle’s name on the boy’s tongue. Sophia nodded impatiently. “Yes. Yes, I live here. I told you—he’s my uncle. Please, just tell me what happened!”

The boy paused a moment. “Sorry to have to tell you this. Your uncle is gone.”

Sophia felt as though all the air had been squeezed out of her. The words were a shock, but they also struck her as terribly familiar. Some part of her, she realized, always expected those she most loved to vanish.

“I came here looking for him. When I got here, the door was open. I could hear all kinds of noise inside, but I didn’t know what was going on.” He paused. “I waited in the bushes outside. After about half an hour, some men took your uncle out of the house.” The boy seemed to gauge Sophia’s response before continuing. “There were five of them. They put him and some boxes into a coach, and then they left. After they were gone, I went in, and when I heard you upstairs, I hid. I thought they had come back.” He looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“Who were they—what kind of men were they?”

“I don’t know. I mean, they were ordinary. Thugs, I guess.” He frowned. “A few of them had some”—he paused, drawing a finger across his face—“scars.”

Sophia swallowed hard. “Was he all right?” she asked with an effort. “Was he hurt?”

“He was fine,” the boy said firmly. “He was struggling with them—and he was talking back. He was angry, but he wasn’t hurt.”

Sophia felt her throat tensing, and she realized she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from crying. She turned away. “I need to be alone for a while,” she whispered.

“I’m really sorry,” the boy said. “I, uh . . .” he hesitated. “I’ll just be upstairs.”

Sophia heard him on the steps, and then the door closed, and then she stopped thinking of him altogether. All her thoughts turned to Shadrack and the fact that he was gone. She sank to the ground. Her sobs came in deep, painful gasps that finally gave way to tears.

None of it made any sense. How could Shadrack be gone—just like that? In the morning, she’d been sitting next to him in this very room, reading a map, and now the room was ruined and Shadrack was gone and she was alone—totally alone. She cried until her head ached, and then when her head hurt too much she sat listlessly on the carpet. Her head throbbed and she needed water and she felt empty, terribly empty.

If I hadn’t lost track of time , she thought. If I hadn’t lost track of time at the wharf, I would have been back earlier. I would be wherever he is now. And neither one of us would be alone .