The Crimson Skew (24 page)

S
MOKEY TRIED TO
order Theo to his room, seeing the exhaustion on his face, but he would not move from Sophia's side. Even after everyone else had gone to bed, Sophia and Theo sat comfortably together on a pile of blankets before the cooling fire in the kitchen, unwilling to part. They had too much to talk about.

Finally, past twenty-hour, Theo fell asleep with his head on Sophia's shoulder. She moved out of the way carefully, lowering him onto the bundled blankets. Beside him, she tried to sleep, but her weary mind ran in circles. She tried to make sense of all that had taken place in Boston without her:
Bligh's murder, Shadrack's arrest, and, especially, Theo's long confrontation with Gordon Broadgirdle. She wondered what it was about Broadgirdle that unsettled him so deeply, for she had seen it in his eyes. He had said only that he knew the man as Wilkie Graves, a scoundrel and villain from the Baldlands who had no right to be Prime Minister in Boston. But she could sense that there was more, and it worried her to see Theo keeping secrets once again.
He'll tell me the truth when we're talking alone,
she thought.

Sophia rested a gentle, protective hand on his good shoulder. She could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath, and it reassured her to know that Theo was there, sleeping safely and soundly. It was well past one-hour when she finally fell asleep herself, and then she slept so heavily that it seemed only a moment had passed before Smokey was quietly stacking logs to light the fire. Sophia burrowed deeper into the blankets and squeezed her eyes shut to block out the light. Some time later she heard Smokey, Casanova, and Bittersweet talking near the door of the house. A fourth voice joined them, one she did not recognize. Then, quite unmistakably, the unknown voice said, “Shadrack Elli.”

Sophia's eyes flew open. Theo was nowhere to be seen. She sat up and pulled her hair quickly into a braid. Padding up to the doorway, she saw Smokey, Casanova, and Bittersweet sitting around the ashes of a fire with a stranger. He had a gap-toothed smile, a bulbous nose, and a square-cut white beard. His head was entirely bald, and he was fanning himself with a canvas hat.

“Good morning!” he said merrily to Sophia. “You must be Sophia Tims! I have heard such a great deal about you. Not from these good-for-nothings, who are worthless as gossips, but from Miles Countryman, my friend and associate in Boston.”

Smiling at this peculiar greeting, Sophia extended her hand. “I am glad to know you.”

The stranger winked. “Well, you don't know me yet.” He stood up and gave a little bow. “Pip Entwhistle, at your service. Trader, merchant, purveyor of fine goods and curiosities.”

“Do you also know my uncle, Shadrack Elli? I heard his name just now.”

“I do!” declared Pip. “The finest cartologer of our Age, and a man of discerning taste, I might add. He and I share an interest in pennies.”

“Pennies?” Sophia said, surprised. “He's never mentioned that.”

“Oh, yes, indeed. Pennies.” Pip grinned. “Would you like to see one?”

Sophia, perplexed, glanced at Smokey and saw there a look of knowing amusement. She gave Sophia a small nod. “Why not?” Sophia replied.

With a flourish, Pip produced a penny from an inside coat pocket. He held it up but did not hand it over. “Did you know that the first copper pennies were made in 1793, before the Disruption?” Sophia shook her head. “They were not a great success. In execution, not conception. Everyone liked the idea. After the Disruption, New Occident began the manufacture
of what we know as the clock penny.” He held up the familiar wheel of copper, as large as a chestnut. “And yet this special penny, which your uncle and I have a keen interest in, is a little different than most. Why do you think that is?”

He handed it over to Sophia, who examined it curiously, still wondering why they were discussing pennies, of all things. The penny had the twenty-hour New Occident clock on one side and a tiny map of the states on the other. “There's something here on Upper Massachusetts,” she said, noticing a different texture.

“You got it! Right on the nose!” Pip exclaimed triumphantly, tapping the side of his own. “You would find, if you were to consult a jeweler, that it is rose quartz. Mined in Upper Massachusetts. And, we think quite suitably, embedded in the portion of map that depicts the region.” He beamed.

“Why rose quartz?” Sophia asked when it appeared Pip would not be explaining the obvious.

Pip winked. “Because precious stones are the stickiest things in the world.”

She was entirely baffled. “Stickiest?”

“Sticky for memories, that is. Precious stones seem to absorb memories at the lightest touch—it is simply remarkable.”

“Oh!” Sophia exclaimed, with sudden understanding. She turned the penny over to look at Upper Massachusetts again. “This is a memory map?”

Pip laughed with delight. “Yes! Shadrack and I had three hundred made in total. I put the pennies into circulation, and everyone who touches them leaves a few memories in the rose
quartz. The pennies work their way around and around, from one hand to another. Eventually, some of them work their way back to me, and I pass them along to Shadrack. They are each a treasure chest of information. They have given us invaluable insights into what is happening here and in the Territories, and all without having to actually
go
there.”

“How do you read them?”

“Thumb on the quartz, forefinger on the map, and your other hand on the edges. Otherwise, everyone would be reading the map by accident, you understand.”

Sophia followed his instructions and held the penny in both hands. Brief but vivid memories flitted through her mind: Pip, laughing and waving good-bye at the entrance of a tavern; a messy kitchen with broken crockery; a country fair where cows wore blue ribbons and pies sat on a long, checkered cloth; a watch shop in which the proprietor bent over his work, examining minute gears to the music of chiming clocks; and Pip again, holding up a contraption that looked like a telescope. “How wonderful,” Sophia said, smiling, as she handed it back.

“Entirely devised by your uncle Shadrack,” Pip said, taking the penny in his palm. “He is shockingly ingenious, if I do say so myself. Shockingly ingenious.”

“We were speaking of your uncle, Sophia,” Smokey put in, “because Pip has brought me a new map.”

Sophia raised her eyebrows. She saw now that a map lay unfurled on Smokey's lap, and, on either side of her, Casanova and Bittersweet had been studying it. “A map of what?”

“Shadrack has been sending us maps of the troops' movements. It is part of his effort to avoid bloodshed in this war.” Smokey smiled. “You should be very proud of him—he has done a great deal in a short amount of time.”

Sophia sank down beside Bittersweet, and Smokey passed her the map. “He sends them to you?” she echoed.

“Here's how it works,” Pip said, drawing himself up importantly. “I take my goods to Boston, as I have done from time immemorial, and of late I always make a point of stopping by Shadrack Elli's house, in case he has any interesting maps to sell, which I pay for with copper pennies.” He winked broadly and tapped the side of his nose.

“Oh, I see!” Sophia exclaimed.

“I usually find at least a few interesting maps, you may not be surprised to hear. Then I travel back to my usual circuit, here on the border of New Occident and the Territories, and I stop in on half a dozen acquaintances, and since I excel at trade and barter, I am usually able to persuade them to take one of these peculiar maps off my hands. In exchange, they give me some scribbles that I tuck away and carry back to Boston next time I go. It works very well,” he said, pleased with himself.

“Every week Shadrack sends us updates,” Smokey said, rather more directly, “and we keep him informed of things here. This map shows the troop movements since the start of the war and, as far as he knows, where they are headed.”

Sophia considered the map. It was the first new map of her uncle's that she had seen in months, and the familiar hand made
her ache. It was clear that he had rushed, but as usual, he had not compromised on precision. A line of arrows, annotated with dates, showed the progress of the troops since July. She found Oakring, just south of the Eerie Sea, and to the southwest of it was a shaded cloud marked
August 20 or thereabouts.
All of the lines with arrows pointed to it. Sophia frowned. “And they are all meeting up there?”

“We were discussing this as you came out,” Smokey said. “It seems Broadgirdle plans a large-scale confrontation. He is amassing almost all the New Occident forces there later this month. General Griggs will lead the armies, which almost certainly means that Fen Carver will be bringing the Territories' troops to the same place. “

“It's not far from here,” Sophia murmured. “Is it even in the Territories?”

“You've hit upon the problem,” Bittersweet said, his voice heavy. “This place is not in the Territories at all—it is Turtleback Valley.”

Sophia looked up at him, horrified. “No!”

“I'm afraid so.”

“But the grove . . . We can't let them harm it—we must stop them!”

“I know,” he agreed. “I fear that with a force so large, the old one's influence will be useless. The grove would be destroyed. And there is more. Pip, do you have a pen or pencil in that massive pack of yours?”

Entwhistle, who had listened to this exchange with some
bewilderment, reached into his jacket and withdrew a blue pen with a silver nib. “Here you are. Manufactured in Charleston. Flawless construction. Never leaks.”

Bittersweet took the pen without comment and began marking the map with small
X
s, dating each one. “There,” he said, holding it up. “It's just as I thought.”

“What is?” Sophia asked.

He handed her the map. “Each
X
is where Datura has been. It didn't make sense to me before, because I didn't know all the troop movements, but look. In every single case, the crimson fog precedes New Occident forces. They send in Datura first, and then they come afterward with fire. Destroy what little survives.”

Sophia caught her breath and Pip gave a low whistle. Casanova shook his head grimly. “I am sorry to say that it does not surprise me.”

“That must be why this war has moved so quickly,” Smokey said.

“No doubt,” Bittersweet agreed, his expression aggrieved. “They are using her as a weapon, clearing the way for New Occident troops.”

Sophia gazed at the map, appalled by all that it contained. “What is the
purpose
of destroying these places so completely? Not just the crimson fog, but gunfire, and—fire? Why?”

“It ruins crops, and it ruins morale,” Casanova told her.

“I cannot believe that Broadgirdle would do this,” she declared.

“He is capable of anything,” said a voice from the doorway.
Theo stood there, looking tousled but better than he had the previous evening.

“Theodore Constantine Thackary!” Pip cried, standing up once more. “How good to see you again, though I would prefer to see you with fewer bandages.”

“How are you, Pip?” Theo greeted him, putting his arm carefully around the older man.

“I am perfectly well. You, on the other hand, were in better condition last time I saw you,” Pip said disapprovingly.

“We stayed with Pip when Miles and I traveled west in the winter,” Theo explained to Sophia. “A lot has happened since then,” he told Entwhistle.

“Yes, yes—I know,” he replied gravely, stroking his beard. “Sit down, sit down. This Broadgirdle has wreaked havoc on New Occident, but I know he has been devilish to you in more particular ways.”

“What has he done now?” Theo asked.

Sophia handed Theo the map. “He plans to amass the New Occident army in Turtleback Valley. Where the grove is. And Bittersweet says that the troops have followed in the wake of the fog.”

Theo studied the map in silence. “Well, we needed no proof that Graves is a monster.”

“Graves?” Pip asked, eyebrows raised.

“I know him from the Baldlands,” Theo explained. “He's not even from New Occident. When I knew him, he went by Wilkie Graves.”