23
The sound of fighting came from the corridor beyond and this time, gunshots. As the two Feral Borderlanders ran out of the room, Sir Douglas lowered his hands.
“Give up now and I’ll spare this city the worst of the plague.”
The Illuminated Cartographer remained silent as he gathered the last of his strength, tugging on ancient pathways that wound through the maps and into his veins. He pulled the vellum closer, huddling deeper inside layers of projection and elevation. Smoke enveloped the library now, the smell of burning like a pyre of the damned.
In the corner, a painted celestial globe mounted on wooden legs sat just out of reach of the fire, behind the line of Sir Douglas’s sight. The Illuminated Cartographer sent his magic out through the tangle of maps, reaching crumpled paper
