The letter itself, which began with Dear Etta, my sweet little star, was…gibberish. The phrases themselves made sense, were complete thoughts, like The trees look lovely today. But that was followed up by Ask yourself if unknown gods exist. There was no meaning behind the words, no sense to the composition of it.
With a sickening jolt, Etta knew exactly what she was looking at—she knew exactly how to read this letter, because her mom had been coding letters and messages for her this way for years. There was no second sheet to layer over it—sometimes her mom didn’t have time to cut out the shape, in which case, she’d use the clue in the first few lines.…
Dear Etta, my sweet little star…
While that was a nice sentiment, her mother had never called her something so sentimental in her entire life. Which meant, then, tracing a star over the letter would reveal the full message.
She wrote this for me.
Only her.
Etta can handle this.
Etta kept her eyes on the page until she was sure she wouldn’t give herself away. Cyrus had managed to extract one meaningful phrase from the jumble of words, but the rest of it was lost to him. He didn’t know there was a key to bring the nonsense together, tie it together into the message buried beneath. Tracing a star over the letter would give her the rest of the phrases she’d need. It was only bad luck that he’d been able to pull any line out of it and recognize its connection to the Lindens.
She wants me to find the astrolabe.
She doesn’t want anyone else to.
This was what she’d meant when she said it was Etta’s time, wasn’t it? Rose didn’t just know she would travel back in time at one point, she knew she would one day travel back for this purpose, and if Etta had to guess, because Ironwood had willed it.
“As you can see, this was written for you to find. The fourth line down,” he said. There was a single phrase underlined, the words spread across one line, where, if Etta had to guess, the widest part of the star would be. “Tell tyrants, to you, their allegiance they owe—that is the one that interests me.”
“What about it?” she asked, all innocence.
“It’s a famous song in this period about the execution of Nathan Hale, the American spy,” Cyrus explained. “After a time, I finally placed where I had heard the phrase.”
Nathan Hale—the I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country Nathan Hale? He had been an American spy caught behind enemy lines during the Revolution, and was hanged for it.
“I’d prefer you not reveal—” Nicholas began.
“How positively adorable that you think I care a whit for your preferences,” Cyrus snapped. “I recognized it, in fact, because Benjamin Linden was annoyingly fond of singing it when he was deep into his cups. Surely it couldn’t be a coincidence, given its connection to her only family. But imagine my surprise when I discovered that history didn’t have a record of the exact site of his execution. I had to make my way here to determine it for myself, and, lo, there was a previously unknown passage waiting just across the way. It is my belief that there are clues within this letter that will lead from one passage to another, connecting in a trail that culminates at the correct location and era where the astrolabe may be found.”
In other words, each clue pointed to the location of a passage that would need to be taken in order to find it. Sort of like…connecting flights, in order to arrive at a desired destination. Only she needed to find the right planes.
Etta forced herself to swallow, to keep her expression neutral, as she ran her fingers over her mother’s journal. Ironwood caught the movement, and pulled the journal out of her hands, tucking it back under his arm.
“Tomorrow is Hale’s execution,” Cyrus said. “We’ve had to wait months and come to 1776 Manhattan ourselves to search for the exact spot, as history remained uncertain about the actual location of the event. As you’ve hopefully ascertained, the hanging will take place across the way, in the Royal Artillery Park.”
The passage was still moaning, still screaming, but the wind seemed to be carrying the sound away until all that remained was a faint drumming.
“You’re not going to do anything about it?” Etta asked. “Try to save him?”
Cyrus burst out laughing. “Interfere? Change the timeline? I think not. The fool got himself caught, out of uniform, behind enemy lines. His death is on his head.”
The attitude was disgusting.
“You’ll decipher this letter before you set off to hunt for the astrolabe. We may even be able to prepare you with the right clothing and mannerisms before you begin.”
Nicholas straightened. “A few hours of tutelage won’t do anything for her.”
That pricked Etta’s pride. Wasn’t she handling this all fairly well, given the circumstances? And, not to be competitive about this, but if he could master the ins and outs of traveling, then so could she.
He must have read the fire in her expression, because Nicholas’s eyes widened slightly. “I only meant—”
“She’ll be fine,” Cyrus interrupted. “I’ve waited long enough. Here are my terms, Miss Linden. Decipher this letter and the clues it contains about where to find the necessary passages to connect through; travel through them; and bring the astrolabe back to me. Then your mother will be freed, and you’ll be returned to your home.”
Etta held his gaze for as long as she could stand it. Exhaustion bled into her, and the weight of her thoughts began to feel like too much to carry. She worked through the necessary points as quickly as she could:
Cyrus would not reveal the location of the passage back to the Met, and her time, if she didn’t do as he asked. And maybe not even then. Which might mean never saving Alice’s life.
Nicholas would not necessarily take her back, as her life was not technically in danger.
Her mother had lied to her, reshaping the truth, omitting huge chunks of the rest, inserting little riddles and clues into her life for Etta to maybe piece together one day as she tried to fend for herself. Which, wonderful parenting right there. And all to…to keep this astrolabe in the family? To give it another protector who would find it and hide it again if any other traveler should stumble upon it? Then why not train her, prepare her for this—so it wasn’t—so it wasn’t so overwhelming—so impossible—
No wonder Alice had argued she wasn’t ready—she wasn’t. But her mom believed she could do this, and she wasn’t about to let either of them down. Etta closed her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nose until her heart calmed to a steady roll of thunder in her ears.
Home.
Alice.
Mom.
And, soon enough, her debut. All of those things, waiting for her.
Was there a way to rewrite Alice’s fate? To make sure her mother was safe—to not give the old man what he wanted, but still save her life?
“You cannot be considering this.…” Nicholas said incredulously. “Think, Miss Spencer. This is no simple task he’s asking of you.”
“I do not recall asking you to weigh in with your opinion,” Cyrus thundered.
“What is there to consider?” Etta asked coldly, looking directly at the old man. “You’ll kill her if I don’t bring it back, won’t you?”
He smirked. “With pleasure. You should know that you’ll need to return no later than September thirtieth. If not, the deal is void.”