14. Blank Maps
BLANK MAPS
TALIA
Beyond the boundary stones, special field protocols apply. Scholars are reminded that all materials recovered in restricted zones, including maps and field notes, are subject to Pentarchy review.
She swung her legs over the edge of her thin mattress and nearly kicked Holloway in the head.
Two days of this.
He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d brought her breakfast as she nursed a hangover. Kept quiet while she read. He even volunteered to sleep on the floor. Incredibly, annoyingly thoughtful—and constantly there.
The journal stayed locked away. The key stayed in her pocket.
She dressed quietly and slipped out before he awoke.
Outside, the sky was a flat gray as she made the walk alone. All the magic seemed to have leeched out of the streets. She wondered if she should buy a proper coat. Winter wasn’t far off.
The Consortium basement was dim and airless. The lamp above her desk buzzed and spat. That horrible lamp, this tiny desk. Why did she feel like a child in time-out?
Her chair squealed against the floor as she pushed it back. A narrow hall at the end of the room led to the archives.
“That area is for senior scholars.” Nadir didn’t even look up as she stepped in that direction.
Something in her snapped.
“I don’t know if you caught my name when I arrived,” she said, forcing her voice to stay level. “Salaren. Talent Salaren, from Vaelis. My family funds a good portion of the Consortium’s research.”
Now he looked up.
She smiled. “I’m seeing those maps.”
Nadir scowled, but he didn’t stop her.
She opened the door to the tiny room and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw a figure sitting in the almost-dark. Who the…
Riven turned. So that’s why he hadn’t walked over with her. He was already here.
A map lay unrolled across the table. Another half folded. A drawer stood slightly ajar.
He’d been at this awhile.
“Wait.” She stepped into the room, the door clicking shut behind her. “What are you doing here?”
He just turned and started clearing off the table before she could see what he was reading. “Well, boss, what are we looking for?”
She hated how he never answered her questions.
“Um, maps,” she said, gesturing at the shelves. “I’m getting out of Gateway.”
He looked at her sharply. “Sure that’s a good idea?”
“I’m not waiting anymore. I didn’t come here for this.”
He stood and reached past her, pulled a map from the shelves, and dropped it onto the table. It landed with a thud and started to unroll on its own.
“Where?”
She blinked. “What?”
“Where are you going?” He stepped back, giving her space. “Show me.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. Fine, if that’s what he wanted.
She leaned over the map, tracing the coastline with her finger. Gateway sat on the eastern edge of the continent. Roads branched north and west.
She pointed, a little too quickly.
“Here. I’ll go north on this road, then follow it this way.”
He stepped in beside her, close enough she could feel the heat off him. His hand came down over hers—gently, with just enough pressure to redirect her finger.
“Here? Three expeditions went this way.” His finger tapped the parchment, on a small notation. “None came back.”
Her stomach twisted. She’d seen those reports.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t—”
He clicked his tongue, interrupting her, and moved her hand again.
Another note. “Two ended here.”
“I’ll ask Holloway to come, then.” She said it without thinking.
It was the wrong thing to say. Riven’s face drew into a scowl.
“You’d be guessing and calling it a plan.” He yanked another map off the shelf and slammed it onto the table. “Good way to die.”
There was the coastline again, Gateway, the roads and the rivers. But in the middle of this map—just blank parchment.
“Nothing,” she murmured.
He was next to her now, looking over her shoulder. His cedar scent was everywhere. He traced his finger along the wide river that made its way inland past Gateway and up to the Thol Amras mountains.
“You think so?” He was staring down at that blank space like he could see through it.
She pushed the map away. So this was all there was. The great Consortium archive. It looked like a child had started coloring in a book and given up halfway through.
“Tell me then,” she said. “What’s out there? Why can’t I trust Holloway?”
He didn’t answer. He looked at her steadily, then he reached down and picked up two of the maps, rolling them tightly and slipping them into his jacket.
“What are you—”
He stepped out of the room before she could finish. She took a step to follow and the door clicked shut, loud in the small space.
Had he just stolen those maps? No. He was trying to get a rise out of her. Her fingers clenched around the brittle edges of the parchment until it crinkled.
She thought about Lore’s library—dangerous, yes, but full of knowledge. She’d bet those blue-robed acolytes kept immaculate records. She’d like to see their maps.
When she returned to her room that evening, there was an envelope waiting on her desk. Heavy paper, elegant handwriting. No seal, but it didn’t look like Holloway had touched it. Thank the gods.
Starfall Sanctuary, inner gardens.
Tomorrow at lastlight. Come alone. —L
She tucked the note into the drawer with the journal. She’d meet with Lore tomorrow.