Deep within the Ministry of Maps below Bath Abbey, the Illuminated Cartographer sensed the borders shift, then he heard the blaring alarm that warned of a breach. The sounds of the Mapwalker team running for the War Room echoed through the corridors beyond, a flurry of activity that seemed ever more frequent these days.
He stirred in his nest of maps, the rustling around him intensified by his movement. His own heartbeat pulsed ink through the living borders, but he was old and it was weaker now, the ink thinner in his veins, the magic diminished by his own fragility.
The library was bright with rays from the moon. Even though it was deep beneath the earth, a series of mirrors reflected light down into the darkest corners. A sheen of pale blue spread across the piles of maps, some rolled
