by S. E. Grove
—Orders given by the New Occident parliament judges, August 18, 1892
THEY STAYED ANOTHER whole day, and Sophia spent much of it within the grove, with memories of Minna and Bronson. As much as she longed to stay—with her friends, and with the remembered presence of her parents—she also longed to return to Boston and Shadrack.
And so on August 23 the boldevela, somewhat overstuffed with its occupants, traveled onward to Oakring. Sophia leaned over the railing, watching the hills rise and fall behind them. Even when the valley was long lost from sight, the sense of quiet from the grove remained with her, and she began to wonder if that stillness would always be a part of her now, lodged there by the Red Woods.
Bittersweet and Datura rode Nosh, taking the narrow paths that cut through the woods more directly, and they stayed two miles from Oakring with an Eerie friend. The boldevela arrived in town in the afternoon, anchoring at the outskirts.
While Goldenrod, with Errol in tow, sought out an Elodean friend in the village, the pirates and Wren hastened to the tavern. Veressa and Martin remained with the boldevela, and Sophia, Theo, and Miles headed across the fields to Smokey’s house. She was waiting for them in the doorway. Stepping out to meet them, she smiled broadly and threw her arms around Theo and Sophia at the same time. “I’m so glad to see you back safely,” she said.
“We felt so terrible that we could not get back sooner,” Sophia said. “I hope you did not send people to look for us.”
“I did not, as it happens,” the woman said, with amusement, “because on the eighteenth I was visited by some surprisingly communicative fireflies. They spelled out the word ‘safe,’ and I made a guess as to where they came from.”
Sophia smiled at the thoughtfulness of the three sisters. “Oh! That was clever.”
“How’s your arm?” Smokey asked Theo.
“Very well.” He grinned. “It held up. I slept through about three-quarters of the journey.”
Smokey laughed. “Good. Very good—I’m glad you did. Miles,” she said, reaching out a hand to be engulfed in Miles’s massive palm. “Lovely to see you again.”
Miles pulled her into a bear hug. “Thank you for saving our Theo,” he said gruffly. “Casanova told me how poorly he was. You brought him back.”
“I only gave him the final push,” Smokey said, extracting herself. “Casanova is the one who pulled him from the battle and brought him all the way here.” She glanced over her shoulder at Casanova, who was leaning in the doorway.
“Yes, well.” Miles scowled. “I already tried to thank him, and he said it was entirely due to you. It seems neither of you is willing to take the credit.”
With a smile of his own, Casanova came forward to usher the travelers into the house. “Is it wise to take credit for saving such a scoundrel?” he asked, putting his arm around Theo’s shoulders.
“I’m certainly not giving you any credit,” Theo replied, looking up at him. “Way I see it, I was the one who got you out of Merret’s company. You were just looking for a good excuse.”
“Speaking of which,” Casanova said, dropping his arm. He looked at Smokey. “Should we tell them now?”
Sophia had perched on a bench by the cold fireplace, and Theo sat beside her. Miles hovered, too restless to sit. “Tell us what?”
“It is official,” Smokey said, smiling. “We have a new prime minister.”
“Who?” Miles exclaimed.
“There was an emergency election within parliament,” Smokey explained, “where so many people defected from Broadgirdle’s Western Party that the New States Party gained a majority. New States appointed Gamaliel Shore the interim prime minister, until official elections can be held, but it is likely Shore will stay on.”
“Finally!” Miles shouted, raising his hands dramatically to the ceiling. “A man with sense in the State House.”
“Yes,” Smokey agreed. “His first act was to extend the emergency act of parliament and officially end the war. His second was to forgive all deserters.”
Theo gasped. Sophia threw her arms around him and squeezed him tightly. “Ow,” he whispered.
“Sorry.” She grinned. “But I am so, so, so relieved.”
“Me, too. Obviously.”
“And that’s not all,” Casanova said. “The war was ended on terms that will allow the Indian Territories and New Akan to remain a part of New Occident. His third act was to overrule the border closure.”
There was stunned silence.
“I love that man,” declared Miles.
“We can all go back to Boston!” Sophia exclaimed.
“And we can leave it again. And go back again. And leave once more.” Miles sighed happily. “The Age of Exploration will be reborn.”
• • •
ON THEIR SECOND evening in Oakring, Sophia and Theo gathered their fellow travelers at the round amphitheater by the giant oak. The good news from parliament, that New Occident was once again a peaceful place with open borders, was gladly received. Veressa and Martin were eager to visit Shadrack in a city they had never seen, and the pirates planned to contact the Swan by paquebot from Boston Harbor. But with open borders came more choices, and not every road led to Boston.
Casanova had already broken the news to Theo, and now he announced his decision to the group. “I’ve made up my mind to stay on here with Smokey,” he said with a smile in her direction. He gestured at the great oak above them and then at the nearby town, its houses glowing with yellow lights. “Oakring could have no better medic, but if I train with her for a time, I might make myself useful somewhere else.”
There were sounds of approval. “Perhaps you could look at my leg sometime,” Calixta said. “The medic who cared for it was quite incompetent, and I am sure it would do better in your capable hands.” She gave him a radiant smile.
Casanova blushed.
“Offensive and shameless,” Burr said, shaking his head, appalled. “If it weren’t for me, you would be limping around on a peg leg. No offense, Martin,” he added to the white-haired botanist.
“None taken, my boy. Peg legs among pirates are a very different matter.”
Smokey smiled back at Casanova, clearly happy with the plan, but Sophia looked at Theo, sitting beside her on one of the split-log benches, with concern. She knew how much he had grown to rely on Cas. “We’ll just have to visit Oakring more often,” Sophia said to Casanova and Smokey.
“Of course we will,” Miles exclaimed. “Once a season, at least.”
“Bittersweet, Datura,” Goldenrod said. “Will you journey to Boston to join your mother and grandfather?”
Bittersweet shook his head. “We’ve already sent them word with the pigeons. We will wait for them here, near Oakring.”
“I’ve seen enough of Boston,” Datura said quietly. “Limited though my view was.”
Sophia looked at Datura with sympathy. Privately, Bittersweet had reassured Sophia that with time Datura would heal. She would have three Weatherers with her, and she would, he said with confidence, one day be herself again. Sophia was not so sure; she had seen the garnet map, and she imagined that Datura’s eyes had most likely seen even worse.
“Once Mother and Grandfather join us,” Bittersweet told the other travelers, “we will retreat for a time. What we want most now is time together.”
“Of course,” Goldenrod said. “I regret that Errol and I will not be nearby, but you can always reach us through the old one.”
Errol put his hand over Goldenrod’s green one. “My fairy here has kindly agreed to travel with me on my fool’s errand.” He smiled at her.
“You are following the Ausentinian map to find your brother!” Sophia exclaimed.
“We are,” Errol said. “I was persuaded when I read the map two days ago and found that a good portion of it had already taken place. So the hunt is on.” Seneca screec
hed happily at this proclamation.
Sophia leaned forward. “What is the next part?”
Errol furrowed his brow. “I think our next puzzle to solve is this one: Four islands spell h-o-m-e.”
“Oh!” Burr exclaimed, with mock illumination. “Of course! So obvious!”
“Is it ‘spell’ as in letters or ‘spell’ as in magic?” Smokey asked.
Errol shook his head. “I have no idea.”
“What islands begin with those letters?” Wren asked, seizing eagerly on the riddle.
“Or perhaps the shapes of the islands themselves spell ‘home,’” suggested Veressa.
As the travelers debated the possible meanings of the map, Sophia considered what it would mean to part ways with Errol and Goldenrod. It pained her to think of traveling on without them, but she understood all too well the compulsion to search for lost family.
Wren, too, was taking his leave of them all. It was most likely that the League would conclude that Agent Richard Wren had met his end in Salt Lick, and Wren wished to do everything he could to maintain the illusion. Goldenrod had promised him safety with an Elodean recluse who would keep him hidden until the Australians forgot about him.
The prospect of parting from such dear friends was not easy. When the time arrived on the following day, Sophia found it most difficult to say good-bye to Goldenrod. But the Eerie promised that, with the new border policy, things would be different. Travel would be easier and more frequent, as it had been in the past. “I hope our quest for Errol’s brother is quickly concluded and that we will see you in Boston before too long,” she said reassuringly.
Sophia stood by the steps of the boldevela. Theo, Miles, the pirates, and the Metls were already aboard. Before she said her last good-byes, she wished aloud: “Could we all agree to meet sometime, somewhere?”
“I have an idea!” Miles cried from the deck. “Once a year, every year, in Oakring. We meet at Smokey’s house.”
“I’ll have some rooms added,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Let’s meet on this day,” Casanova suggested, looking around at them all. “August twenty-fifth. To celebrate the finding of friendship, and the finding of peace.”
“Peace,” Burr qualified, leaning over the edge of the deck, “but perhaps not peace of mind, if Calixta is invited.”
Calixta cuffed him lightly. “An excellent suggestion. We will be here.”
“As will we,” Goldenrod assented, clasping Errol’s hand, who gave a little bow of agreement. Seneca fluttered his wings in approval.
“As will I,” Wren agreed.
“We’ll come, too, of course,” Bittersweet said. Nosh, standing beside him, snorted indignantly. “With Nosh.”
Sophia looked forward to the year ahead, now, knowing she would see her friends again at the end of it, and it made the sight of them, waving and diminishing and finally disappearing as the boldevela sailed away, easier to bear.
Epilogue
New Maps
—1893, January 18: 14-Hour 11—
Some of the stories collected here come from travelers I met in Boston, and some come from travelers I met elsewhere over the course of my own travels. What they have in common is how they shed light on their Age of origin, describing a way of thinking or a custom or an explanation for how something came into being. These stories demonstrate differences across the Ages, it is true; but they also demonstrate that in every Age, storytelling is vital to comprehending, interpreting, and appreciating the world around us.
—From Sophia Tims’s Travelers from the Disruption: Collected Stories
“YES, YES, YES!” Shadrack exclaimed, looking over Sophia’s shoulder. “That’s it! You’ve done it!”
Sophia beamed. “It worked.”
“Of course it worked,” her uncle said affectionately. “You’ve been practicing for two months.”
Miles, sitting in the armchair of the map room in the basement, raised his teacup to toast the accomplishment. “Well done, Sophia.” He did not lift his eyes from the book he was reading.
“You could at least pretend to be impressed,” Shadrack said dryly.
“Give me exploration maps over memory maps every time. You know my thoughts on the subject.” He wet his thumb and turned the page.
“Well, I’m impressed,” Theo said with a grin, getting up from his seat across from Miles. “Can I read it now?”
Sophia looked shocked. “I only just started. It’s nowhere near done.”
“But it’s an excellent foundation, Sophia,” Shadrack said with pride. “Your memories are crystal clear.”
“Theo’s . . .” Sophia considered. “Are not.”
“I was wounded. I was asleep half the time,” Theo protested.
“It will help when Casanova visits and we can add what he remembers,” she said diplomatically.
Her memory map of the journey to the Stone Age, the realm of the three sisters, was coming along well. She had, as Shadrack reminded her, spent months perfecting the techniques that he had taught her in the fall. Having gratefully abandoned his post at the ministry and resumed his work at the university, Shadrack had much more time for mapmaking and map-teaching. And Sophia, of course, jumped at the chance. Every day when she returned from school, she read the manuscripts Shadrack left for her and practiced the exercises he laid out. Each night before bed, she practiced the map-reading that she had learned with Goldenrod and Bittersweet, studying the remnants of the world around her: leaves and stones, bark and soil.
Sophia settled into these routines, but there was a difference. With map-reading, it seemed that every day brought with it a new discovery. Finally, in January, she had begun to create her own map.
She was pleased with the process. It was an act of recollection, for it drew on all the sights and sounds and emotions she had experienced; and so making the map became a way of reliving them. At the same time, it was an act of creation; she felt herself infusing each sight, sound, and emotion with meaning and fullness. She loved it.
“Well, Shadrack,” Miles said, finishing his tea and putting his book down with an impatient air. “I came here because you said you’d found a map, not because I wanted to watch Sophia practice mapmaking.”
“Fine, yes, my rude friend,” Shadrack said, walking around the table, opening a tin box and removing a folded packet of worn paper. “I bought it at the dreck market.”
“Aha!” Miles exclaimed, eyes widening. He took the folded paper eagerly in hand. “And what does it show?”
“A city—a city on an island, in the far western Baldlands.”
“Where the Eerie are from?” Sophia asked.
“A bit farther south.”
Miles spread the map out on the table, and the four of them gathered around it, scrutinizing its contents. It was drawn by someone with a talented but untrained hand. The streets were tight and narrow, and a network of dots fell over the city like a constellation of stars. Sophia pointed at them. “What are these?”
“The legend is torn, as you can see,” Shadrack said. “They could be anything. Since they are enumerated, I would guess they are all places of one kind.”
“Or they could be numbered, like steps,” Sophia suggested.
“Here is what caught my eye.” He indicated the notation in the corner, beside the compass rose.
Theo read aloud, “1842. Believed lost in 1799.”
“So the map was drawn in 1842?” Sophia speculated.
“And was the map believed lost, or was the city believed lost?” Shadrack wondered.
“I recognize this shape!” Miles exclaimed, drawing his finger around the island. “I have never been there, but it is thought to be uninhabited.”
“Exactly,” Shadrack said triumphantly.
“And it might not be?” asked Sophia.
Before Shadrack
could answer, Miles thumped his fist on the table. “Fantastic!” he cried. “I will plan an expedition at once.”
“I thought you might want to,” Shadrack said calmly. “But I would recommend we wait until the summer, or at least the late spring. Travel across the continent in this weather would be unpleasant, to say the least.”
“Nonsense, man,” Miles exclaimed. “The snow is no obstacle.”
“What about the school year? Sophia will not want to miss her classes, Winnie will want to but should not, and Nettie’s father certainly won’t consider letting her leave before summer.”
Sophia seized her uncle’s arm. “You mean we’re all going together?”
“Of course.” Shadrack smiled.
“Yes, yes, yes!” She practically danced.
Theo laughed. “This is going to be a long winter of waiting.”
“Can’t she take her books with her?” demanded Miles, with an air of impatience.
Shadrack sighed. “You have no conception of the scholarly life, Miles. It depresses me. I can’t understand how you have made it this far as my friend.”
“I simply ignore everything about you that is irritating.”
Sophia and Theo glanced at one another with knowing smiles, anticipating one of the two old friends’ epic and long-winded squabbles. Quietly, they left the table and made their way to the stairs, climbing up to the first floor. Mrs. Clay was writing letters in the study, and she waved her pen at them briefly as they walked by. They climbed again, to the second floor, and ended in Sophia’s room, where the window overlooked the rooftops of East Ending Street.
“Secret chocolate?” Sophia asked.
“Absolutely.”
Sophia opened her wardrobe and drew out a box, sent to her by Mazapán, their friend in Nochtland, and delivered by the pirates. She pulled out two chocolate spoons and handed one to Theo.
