S. Grove - The Glass Sentence

By letting her sense of time relax, Sophia could move so slowly that she made almost no sound. Several minutes later, she stood in the doorway of Shadrack’s bedroom, watching as Theo opened and closed the drawers of her uncle’s wardrobe. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

Theo jumped. Then he saw Sophia in the doorway, he shook his head, chuckling. “You’re good at that. How’d you walk down so quiet?”

“What are you doing in Shadrack’s room?”

“Don’t get upset,” Theo said placatingly. “I just had an idea.”

“What idea?” Sophia asked. For a moment she thought he might have remembered a clue, a sign: something that would lead them to Shadrack.

“I was thinking that, you know, likely your uncle didn’t have time to take his papers and lifewatch.”

The next moments expanded in her mind to encompass a much longer sense of betrayal. “You were going to take them?” she whispered. “You were going to steal Shadrack’s papers ?”

“No!” Theo protested. “No, I wasn’t going to . . . steal them.”

“Then what?”

“I just thought it would make the trip easier if I had them—you know, if I borrowed them.”

“You were going to take Shadrack’s papers and leave on your own,” Sophia said, her tone hardening.

Theo rolled his eyes. “I was not. I was going to use the papers so it would be easier along the way and then give them back to you when we got to the Baldlands.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you need to travel with me anyway if you had papers? Stolen papers,” she added bitterly.

“Because I already said I would,” Theo replied, suddenly angry as well. “I said I would go with you—we agreed.”

“Then you could have just waited until the morning and asked. Don’t you think I know where Shadrack keeps his papers?” Sophia’s voice was trembling.

“Fine, if you don’t want to believe me,” Theo shot back. “So what if I was going off on my own? What’s that to you?”

“I—”

“Your uncle can get new papers any time.” Theo took a deep breath. “I’m used to looking after myself, and that means worrying about myself first. You think I worried what would happen to Ehrlach without his caged pet? No. Where I come from you can’t think about other people first. It’s every man for himself.”

“I see,” Sophia said, stung. “So I’m just like Ehrlach then—Shadrack is just like Ehrlach. Every man for himself. Is that what you were thinking when you saw them taking Shadrack away?”

Theo paced angrily. “Yes. That’s exactly what I was thinking. One kid in feathers and five armed men. Not exactly good odds. I could have run into that mess, and right now I’d be wherever your uncle is. That would have been no help to either of us. Or I could have done what I did: watch what happened, stick around to tell you about it, and be here to help you get into the Baldlands.”

“Why should you help me? You don’t even care what happened to Shadrack! You just want his papers.” Sophia clenched her fists to steady herself.

Theo gave a sharp sigh of frustration. “Look, you’ve got the wrong idea. Yes—I’d rather do things on my own. That’s how I’ve always been, and I’m not going to apologize for it. But I keep my word. We agreed to help each other, and I’m going to stick to that. You can think what you like; I wasn’t going to take your uncle’s papers. I was just thinking about what would make getting to Nochtland easier.”

Sophia stared at Theo—his brown eyes, narrowed to wary slits, his hands clenched—and she realized that she had no idea who he was. The sense of sudden familiarity, that she could trust him, that he could be a friend, evaporated. “You should go on your own,” she said out loud, her cheeks burning. “I’ll be fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Right now it only makes sense for us to help each other. Come on, think about it,” Theo said in an appeasing tone. “Do you have any idea how to get to Nochtland from the border?”

Sophia was silent. She felt a surge of panic at the thought. “Fine,” she said quietly.

“Good,” Theo said. “Our agreement stands, then.” He smiled, every trace of anger suddenly gone from his face.

Sophia took in his easy smile with indignation, giving him only a grimace in return. “Shadrack keeps his papers in a leather wallet in his vest,” she said softly. “And his lifewatch is on a chain clipped to his pocket. I’m sure he has them both.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned, her hair whisking across her shoulder, and stalked up to Mrs. Clay’s sitting room.

Soon Theo joined her there, stretching out on the carpet beside the sofa. Sophia was still angry; she could feel the blood pounding in her temples. And she was anxious; she knew she had no better alternative, but the thought of relying on Theo, who now seemed so unpredictable and unknown, filled her with apprehension. She tried to calm herself by staring overhead at the slow rotation of the chimes. They reflected the pale light from the window, casting small glimmers on the wall and ceiling. After several minutes had passed, she heard Theo’s heavy breathing and knew that he was asleep. She cast a sharp glance in his direction. Every man for himself, Sophia thought bitterly. What kind of philosophy is that? Not the kind of philosophy that makes you want to rescue someone in a cage, that’s for sure. I wish I’d never even thought of helping him.

— 8-Hour 35: Waking at Mrs. Clay’s—

SOPHIA AWOKE WHEN the sun was already high. She checked her watch; it was past eight. Theo still lay fast asleep on the carpet, his face turned toward the wall. Sophia smelled eggs and coffee. In the kitchen, she found Mrs. Clay standing at the stove, quietly humming. With her hair in its usual tidy bun and her dress protected by an embroidered white apron, she seemed calm and well refreshed.

“Good morning, Mrs. Clay,” Sophia said.

“Good morning!” the housekeeper replied, turning to her. “Come have some breakfast. I’m feeling optimistic, Sophia.” She brought a pan of scrambled eggs from the stove and scooped a large portion onto Sophia’s plate. “I feel confident that the Fates will be assisting you.”

“Do you think so?” Sophia asked anxiously, taking a seat. Shadrack thought the Fates were a tolerable convention, at best, and a dangerous delusion, at worst. Sophia wanted to follow Shadrack’s example and scoff at such fancies, but part of her worried that the unjust removal of her parents rather verified the existence of those three cruel, arbitrary powers who spun sorrow and misfortune and death as easily as others spun cloth. The more Mrs. Clay had talked about them over the years, the more Sophia became convinced that the Fates were real, and they fashioned all the happenings of the world, weaving them into a pattern only the three of them could comprehend.

“I have taken the liberty,” Mrs. Clay went on, pouring Sophia a cup of coffee, “of speaking with the Fates on your behalf.” She retrieved her sewing basket from the sideboard. “They really are the most difficult creatures.” She shook her head. “Totally heartless. They refused to say anything at all about Shadrack. But they seemed encouraging about your reaching Veressa. They were most insistent that I give you this.” She handed Sophia a spool of silver thread. “Who knows what they intend you to do with it,” she sighed. “They are fickle, at best—cruel at worst. But I have found that it is generally wise to do as they say when they make such specific recommendations.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said with sincere gratitude. She tucked the spool into her pocket. “Perhaps they will help me along the way.”