“Let’s retire to the map room, Nuri,” the [Viceroy] says amiably. Like all of his other statements this evening, however, it’s a command, not a suggestion. Sighing in contentment, he pats his stomach, then he pushes back from the table and floats upright. “Come. I have someone I want you to meet.”
I stand up more slowly, clutching at my own stomach. At long last, we’ve finished tasting each of the half a dozen flavors of sweetened, chilled cream that the servants brought out in tiny crystal bowls. I doubt I could eat another bite even under pain of death.
My host leaves the dinner table looking like a junkyard heap, apparently confident in his servants’ cleaning prowess. Equally confident that I’ll follow him, he turns and floats out of the room with eerie serenity. I still can’t sense a single drop of mana use from him, which makes his incredible finesse all the more terrifying—and makes me think his earlier display was calculated, not a slip in control due to his fury. He’s testing me, although I’m not sure what for just yet.
I trot after him when I realize he’s not waiting for me, cursing under my breath. I can’t rely on following his mana signature, even if my [Manasight] were working properly, since he’s like a ghost. No sound, no mana presence. Out in the hallway, I glance both ways rapidly, and catch sight of him turning a corner to my left. I take off running this time, uneasy at the thought of wandering through his mansion alone. It’s probably not safe.
Even at a light jog, I barely keep up with the [Viceroy]. He doesn’t speak, just hums to himself as he glides on an invisible platform. Is it condensed mana? Or something else? I wish I knew that trick!
Three turns later, we stop in front of an impressive archway, carved with shimmering silver scrollwork that reaches all the way to the ceiling. The gilt door retracts into the wall as he approaches, sliding aside silently to reveal a cavernous room with a singular display in the center, dazzling with its overabundance of mana.
“Meet my dear friend Coco,” Tapirs says, nodding toward a massive map of the world that dominates the room.
The map’s size and weight are too much for a single dining table. Instead, the bulk of the enormous map is spread out across four huge tables pushed together in the center of the room, leaving only a little room for maneuvering around the edges. I’m not entirely sure how to see the center of the map, until a wave of Tapirs’ hand changes the perspective. The view shifts from the entire content, zooming in closer and closer. A few heartbeats later, the orderly streets of Modilaraon dominate the map, the only details visible across the entire breadth of the artifact.
“The map is exquisitely detailed,” I manage, catching my breath and glancing around in bemusement. The rest of the room is utterly bare of furniture or maps, other than the map on the table. Every square inch of the floor and walls—and the ceiling, too, I realize, glancing up to confirm my hunch—is covered in intricate runes of staggering complexity and variety. I’m not sure what to make of the extravagant display, other than whistling softly at the sheer cost of such a staggering undertaking.
“Yes, she certainly is exquisite,” [Viceroy] Tapirs agrees. He rests his hand on the edge of the map, patting the map as though it’s a favored pet. He smiles as he offers his greeting. “Hello, Coco.”
A soft flash of silver-blue light pulses over the map to meet his hand. “Welcome, Tapirs. Who’s the boy?” A disembodied voice echoes throughout the chamber, precise and pleasant, thrumming with power.
I flinch. Did the table just speak?
“This young lad is Nuri, the [Glassworker] you tracked down for Harwich. Play nice, Coco! He’s new here. Let’s not scare him off.” His eyes sparkling with amusement, he gestures for me to come closer.
I gawk at the table, my mouth agape like a yokel on his first trip into a town with more than two buildings. What kind of artifact is this thing? My guard is up, however; I didn't miss his casual admission that he was responsible for finding me for the [Adjutant]. “Uh, hello. How are you, Coco? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I love your map room.”
A silver flicker of light from the table somehow reads like the entity is pleased. “Ooh, a polite one for once. Your taste is improving, Tapirs.”
Tapirs sniffs disdainfully, as though this is a long-standing argument he’s tired of losing. “My taste is always impeccable, Coco. Your opinion is ill-informed.”
“Oh? How peculiar. I wonder where my soul seed came from,” Coco replies with a trill of amusement. “Any deficiencies must naturally arise from the original’s inadequacies.”
My host rolls his eyes, prompting another wave of multihued light to reverberate across the map, and then two share a chuckle.
Soul seed? I wonder if that’s what gave this enchanted artifact—er, Coco—such lifelike ability. My eyes shift to take in the [Viceroy]’s pleased expression, which leaves no doubt in my mind that he is indeed responsible for Coco’s personality and reasoning.
He clears his throat, though it seems more theatrical than strictly necessary. “Coco, how about a little demonstration? Please show Nuri the troop movements on the Eastern front.”
Immediately, blue and grey images light up on the interactive magic map, moving across the topographical landscape with eerie precision while Coco narrates. “You’re looking at the last week of data, based on camp journals from the Royal Army scribes. Unfortunately, without the [Viceroy]’s explicit authorization, I’m unable to allow you access to real-time reports.”
“This is incredible!” I breathe out, impressed despite myself. I wish I could show Ezio and Rakesh. They love these kinds of academic artifacts. Direct access to information from all over the continent is a revolutionary idea.
“Coco, show Nuri the travels and travails of our wanted glass-maker,” the [Viceroy] says, shaking my good mood.
After everything else I’ve witnessed tonight, I really shouldn't be surprised when a pale, sky-blue path traces the steps of my journey after I departed from Silaraon. The line is straight and unbending until I’m halfway across Densmore, however, which raises some questions about the accuracy of the map. Or is this guesswork until they picked up my trail later on?
Once my journey reaches Barundu, where Vicario, Iriye, and Maire live, the path wavers and wanders. With great unease, I see that Vicario’s Windows is listed, written out in words of light beside the name of the city. They know my friends; is this an unsubtle threat to keep me in line? I shake off the uncomfortable line of thought, watching as my progress moves in erratic loops across the great plains next. Coco’s light tracks me until I arrive at the bustling trading village of Lamont’s Rapids, nestled in the cliffs beside the river.
Fascinated, I shuffle closer to the map, resting my hand against the edge of the table and leaning in to squint at the details. My path disappears entirely in the village, although it picks up again a finger’s width away. I wonder if that's when I entered and exited the Rift, removing myself from this plane for a short time?
At last, the ribbon of light follows my boat ride down the river to Grand Ile, host of the triennial glass competition. I sink into the memories of the lock system and the fascination of boats traveling up and down the river, engaged in their endless trade practices. Grand Ile looks magnificent even on the map, and I quirk a smile when I see the white and gold styling that the citizens are so proud of faithfully duplicated on Coco’s map.
“I suppose my efforts to hide were a bit lacking in sophistication,” I murmur.
“On the contrary! You were well-cloaked leaving Silaraon, to the point where one might even wonder if you stole an anti-scrying artifact from the [Inquisitors]. Piecing together your little journey was quite the puzzle, if it makes you feel any better. But we found you in the end.”
My gaze slides over to take in Tapirs’ expression of satisfaction as he talks about me. I doubt he’s gone through such lengths to host me tonight just to arrest me. Still, I’m wary after he made a point of drawing attention to my legal status, so I quickly fumble for a way to change the subject. “Is the map—er, rather, is Coco—connected to the national Index?”
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“Ask her,” Tapirs says, nodding at the map. “As long as you haven’t offended her too much by speaking about her instead of to her, then she’s likely to answer you.”
The barely concealed smirk on his face is answer enough, though. I get the sense that if there's a source of information available anywhere, then the [Viceroy] has somehow secured magical access, allowing Coco to review the data and display it for privileged guests
I clear my throat, starting with easy questions. “Coco, could you please show me the location of known Masters of glass making?”
A few white-green lights pop up, denoting the locations of Masters. Most of the lights are scattered throughout Densmore and Naftali, with a single ultrabright cluster in Osaria, an island nation a ways West of the continent.
I laugh in delight, committing the locations to memory and promising myself that I’ll visit them all someday. “Could you show me where the Azure Staff was made? Please?”
The map pulses again, reorienting around a small city. Text scrolls by a moment later, marking the city as Kalhue and confirming Ezio’s claims. Looks like my friends were right. Rakesh is a formidable [Researcher].
“One day, you’ll add the location of my glass studio to the map,” I vow, pride warming my chest. “I’ll be a Master. Just watch!”
“I have no doubt,” Coco replies politely. Yet, somehow, for a construct, she still manages to sound sassy. It reminds me of my brother, teasing me for my ambitions.
“You do have a promising future,” my host says, further stroking my ego. “We need to see about proper teachers, however,” he continues, sending my pride cratering back down into the dust as he frowns. “You’ve spent far too long under the influence of questionable individuals. I need to rehabilitate your image once your pardon goes through.”
[Viceroy] Tapirs’ harsh words about Tem over dinner echo through my ears, and not even the promise of a full pardon for my crimes can stay my speech any longer. I’m burning up with curiosity about the feud between their factions. Of course, given that Tem is missing, and was already declared a traitor, while Tapirs is entrenched in power and luxury, it’s not much of a feud.
I wet my lips, preparing myself for the potentially bad reaction I’ll get to my question. This particular subject isn’t likely to receive the same warm welcome as the others, but I want to see the map. “Coco, please show me the travels and adventures of [Expert Counterspell Scout] Tem Cytekin, including any usually restricted from the public eye.” A ripple of light across the map transforms the close-up view of cities in Densmore to a bird’s-eye vista of the five main countries on our continent. Little golden dots dot the surface of the map, like a farmer scattering seed across fertile ground.
“Still a fascination with your mentor, I see,” Tapirs says, scowling at me. “Tell me, Nuri, what is it that inspires such loyalty for that traitor? You seem to revere him, while I bear nothing but sorrow for the harm he's done to our great country. How do we reconcile our views?”
I shrug. “Harm to our country? I don't know what you’re talking about. He’s a hometown hero—by far the most famous name to ever come out of Silaraon. I’ve read all his adventure books. Even if they're embellished, you can’t deny that he’s taken the most dangerous and difficult missions all over the world, collecting vital information and striking down our enemies. He loves Densmore. His team loves him. He’s clever, competent, and courageous. And he saved my life. Why wouldn't I respect him?”
The [Viceroy] nods slowly in response, his keen eyes locked on my face the entire time I am speaking. He doesn’t sneer or scoff at my defense of my friend. His troubled expression is nowhere to be found, smoothed into a mask of patient listening. Nonetheless, I get the sense that he is more than a bit incredulous.
“You really don’t know what I’m talking about.” A heavy sadness fills his voice. “I did not expect to shatter the image of your hero tonight, Nuri, but we’ve come to an impasse. How can I keep silent?”
I stare at him, my body as taut as a bowstring. A terrible premonition builds up within me as he continues to speak. For all his theatrics today, I haven’t detected any lies. At least, not any outright fabrications. Who knows how an old monster like him might twist the truth?
Tapirs leans forward, joining me in resting his arms on the edge of Coco’s map. His eyes look sad and tired. Suddenly, his age seems to shine through, and his voice wavers a bit when he speaks. “Philosophers have asked this question for as long as people have existed: what is the worth of a single life? Is it better to save many by condemning one? Conversely, are loyalty and kindness enough to redeem a man who has performed atrocities? Slaughter or salvation? Which actions define the man in the end?”
“Atrocities? What are you talking about? Tem doesn't even like to fight,” I say, more heat in my statement than I expect. My blood is rising, pounding in my temples, and I grip the edge of the map table as hard as I can to keep from doing something rash. Punching the [Viceroy] in the face while in his own home is a good way to rot in a dungeon for the rest of my life, assuming he doesn’t just order my summary execution.
Tapirs’ expression turns hard as flint. “No, he doesn't like fighting. Imagine! One of the best assassins I’ve ever met, and he's a half step away from a pacifist. Yet that's why we find ourselves in the predicament we’re in today. He could have ended these wars years ago. His so-called ‘mercy’ is nothing more than an unwillingness to act; if anything, his cowardly choices allowed the wraith threat to proliferate, since it’s his insistence that they’re people that stayed the [King]’s hand.”
“No one should rush into a war,” I counter, but the conviction in Tapirs’ voice makes me uneasy, like I’m missing information.
He sighs. “I would have thought that you of all people would understand the dangers.”
“What do you know? You weren't there! The wraiths aren’t all—look, the one I met wasn't a monster,” I splutter, indignant that my argument sounds so weak..
Tapirs’ dignified face grows even stormier. “Bah! I’m not talking about the creature from the Labyrinth. I'm talking about your parents.”
The unexpected change in subject stabs me like a needle puncturing a balloon. All the anger drains out of me, and I sag against Coco for support, sudden dread gripping my heart with icy talons. I fight to keep my voice steady, even though my legs are shaking and I’m having trouble standing. “What—what are you talking about?
He turns to the map, triumph and anger glittering in his eyes. “Coco, compare the traitor Tem’s travels with known mana plague outbreaks over the last two decades.”
Like an ugly, purple-yellow bruise spreading across the healthy flesh of the land, Coco’s new instructions overlay the places Tem’s visited. I recognize many of the towns and cities from my years of reading adventure books: Tayeb, Luxora, Altus, Quinnescent, Struegas, Deep Rime Harbor, Iyrock—and, at last, Silaraon.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “Tem’s not like that. He wouldn’t hurt people—not if they don’t deserve it!”
A clouded look passes over the [Viceroy]’s face. “I might have agreed with you twenty years ago. But ask yourself: who gets to decide? Which people deserve death? Which people deserve life?” His voice grows hard. “Whose rules apply? Whose justice prevails?”
“How do I know you're not faking the data? Maybe you're just jealous of his popularity,” I growl at Tapirs, crossing my arms. The accusation sounds ridiculous even as I spit it out.
He smiles at me sadly, looking for all the world like a tender grandfather who has the misfortune of delivering bad news. “When you met the wraiths outside of their own habitat, what did Tem warn you against?”
“Mana use,” I answer, forcing the words out between clenched teeth.
He nods sagely. “Why is that?”
“Because they can boil the mana right out of your body if you don’t clamp down on your channels.” My voice goes soft and reedy as I realize the connection that the ancient mage is making, but I manage to get the words out anyway, feeling lightheaded and nauseated all at once. “Just like the mana plague.”
“Indeed. Just like the mana plague,” Tapirs echoes. “You tell me if that’s a coincidence.”
I sink into a sullen silence, not knowing what else to say. There’s no denying that their symptoms are eerily similar. So what took me so long to put two and two together?
“Perhaps that’s enough for tonight,” the [Viceroy] says, leading me out of the map room. “I called you here in good faith, out of curiosity, not to make enemies. Let’s leave this ugliness behind us, shall we?”
I nod, numb as I follow him downstairs, through winding passageways, and out the front door. What am I supposed to say? I want to accuse him of lying, but something tells me that he is the kind of formidable opponent who wields the truth like a weapon. He didn’t achieve his lofty position by accident.
Mumbling pleasantries, I take my leave and scurry into the fancy carriage that’s ready to take me back to Scalpel’s research facility. What a difference a single day can make. Just this morning I couldn’t wait to leave, but tonight I can’t wait to get back. All I want to do is immerse myself in routine, distracting myself from the memories of my parents—and the gut-wrenching realization that my hero may have inadvertently had something to do with their death.
My host holds up a hand to stop us just before I depart with his guards. Gritting my teeth in annoyance, I lean my head out the window to hear his farewell. It won’t hurt to appear polite, no matter how irritated I feel at the moment.
Tapirs clasps his hands over his robes. “Nuri, I do not wish to part on unpleasant terms. I can transfer you to different, ah, accommodations. You don't have to stay with that hag. Just say the word, and I will remand you into the [Chief Inquisitor]’s custody. You could also study with me, or one of my students if you’d prefer. You’ll have no better chance to learn the secrets of mana.”
“Can you rebuild my Skills?” I ask, already knowing that he can’t. Otherwise, why make use of such a distasteful researcher?
“I can’t promise a miracle. As much as it pains me, she’s the foremost expert there,” he says, smiling as if in apology.
I sigh and shake my head. “Then I’ll return to Scalpel. I’m committed to the work. I have too much to learn from her to give up now.”
“Very well. I shall respect your wishes. Fare thee well, young glassmaker,” he intones formally. He nods at me once and then floats away with a flourish of his elaborate robes, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.
The carriage ride back to Scalpel’s house feels like it lasts an eternity.