Wilfram, my predecessor, had collected a great number of maps. They ranged from small pencil sketches that could be folded up and kept in a pocket, to huge red-inked scrolls that covered my entire desk when I unfurled them. Some of them looked like they could have been drawn this year, while others were ancient, possibly even pre-Reformation.

Many of the maps were of the local area; terrain, topography, resources, including one that I took to be the original survey map from when the fort was built. All of them were significantly more detailed than I believed existed for this region, and certainly better than anything I'd seen in the records at North Hill.

Some of the other maps showed regions that I didn't immediately recognize. There was one of the Northern Polity, including North Hill, though on the map it was called Embrachus, and there were several I took to be maps of the undeveloped land further north into the wilds.

There was one large map that showed the entire world, the same design that was familiar to every Polity school graduate. It showed the Polity, a ladle-shaped country roughly two thousand miles from edge to furthest edge, bordered by the sea to the south and east, by the cordial Degreean Empire to the west, and the untapped, largely unmapped, wilds to the north. Internal lines divided the Polity into regions whose cultures had inherited their character from the nations they'd once been, before the Reformation had forged them into a single political entity. Other islands and continents were depicted with their names to the east and west, the coastlines growing more basic and abstract the further from the Polity's shores they were.

There were more maps still, but that was where my familiarity ended. There were maps of towns I'd never heard of, even one showing what seemed to be the lay of a nation I didn't know to even exist – perhaps some historical kingdom.

One map, fairly recent, black ink on linen paper, showed Fort Amalveor and the surrounding lands, but there were several deviations from its companions. This one showed an additional settlement called Hobs Mount in the forest a little way south-west of the fort, and there were also several points of interest to the north and east, marked with small drawings of structures, but otherwise unlabelled.

I leaned back from my desk and rubbed my eyes. As far as I knew there weren't supposed to be any settlements this far north, or any buildings of any size apart from the fort. We were far outside Polity territory. Was Hobs Mount a deserted historic town, no longer relevant to the current maps? Some recluse colony unknown to the Polity hierarchy? A remote monastery?

I made a note of the major features of the map, using a ruler and set-angle to make a copy of it in my ledger, not absolutely accurate perhaps, but at least as accurate to the original map as that was likely to the land.

I thought perhaps I should arrange a meeting with Rosewood to ask about the town and other marks on the map – as well as several other things that had been bothering me.

Eventually hunger started pulling my attention away from my work, and I left my room in search of something to eat.

Only Terrance Huthnance, the fort's healer, was in the common room when I went for breakfast. He was wearing a long bedrobe, muted purple fabric embroidered with white doves.

A bell rang overhead as I entered the room. Ten bells. Apparently I'd been working for longer than I realized.

"Good morning," he said, raising a cup in greeting.

"Good morning, Terrance," I said, seating myself next to him.

"Did you sleep well? I thought I heard some movement in the night. Not that it disturbed me – I was awake myself. I almost came up to say hello, but with you only having been here a few days I didn't want to seem too forward."

I looked down at the table, feeling awkward. He'd heard my scrambling around the previous night. His room was directly below mine in the corner tower, so I should have thought about whether my footsteps might carry.

At first I felt embarrassed, but perhaps, since he'd brought it up...

"Somebody tried my door last night," I said.

"What!"

"Someone tried to get into my room," I repeated.

I'd somehow almost forgotten, or perhaps chosen to put it out of my mind. Sitting there at the breakfast table I wished I could pass it off as a dream, but I knew for certain that I'd been awake.

Terrance's eyebrows had lifted halfway up his forehead. He took a few seconds to digest the information. Then he smirked.

"Do you think someone was seeking a liaison?"

I took a moment to process his suggestion. My cheeks grew hot as I understood what he was saying.

"No! Why would they."

"Well I know it's only been a couple of days, but someone could easily have fallen for your charms."

"Whoever it was seemed quite angry they couldn't get in," I said, choosing to push past the whole innuendo. "They were practically violent about it."

Terrance grew serious immediately. "And they didn't speak?"

"No."

He went quiet for a minute.

I forced myself to focus on assembling breakfast while I let the heat fade from my cheeks. Pickings were somewhat slim in what was left on the table.

There were some thin pancakes, and slices of a fruit that I thought was called applesharp. The pot of oatmeal was still half full, and there was still some tea and carafe left over.

I pulled the remaining pancakes onto my plate, topping them with a dollop of oatmeal and some wedges of applesharp. I poured myself a cup of carafe, finding at my first bitter sip that it was only lukewarm.

"Do you think it could have been someone who got the wrong door?" Terrance asked as I was chewing on pancake-wrapped oatmeal.

I finished chewing and swallowed before answering.

"I did have that thought."

Terrance smiled, apparently satisfied that he'd found the answer.

"If they bother you again, just rap on the floor. I'll come up and see what's what."

"Thank you."

He gave me a friendly smile then drained his own cup. He leaned back from the table, stretching in a way that pulled his linen shirt back across his chest.

"So, do you have plans for today?"

I nodded, holding off taking another mouthful of food as I answered.

"I was going to perform a survey of the grounds, but I found something in Wilfram's things this morning. He had a map that showed a settlement nearby. I thought I should ask the commander about it."

"Hobs Mount?" Terrance asked.

"Yes, that was it."

"It's not exactly a town any more," he said, lacing his hands behind his head. "It was built around the same time as the fort. I think it was meant to be a base for the timber industry. The local wood was very popular in the Polity. When the reclamation ended, the woodcutters lost the ability to move their product south, and the town died out."

"It's abandoned then?" I asked.

Terrance gestured. "A few families decided to stay behind when the main force evacuated. I haven't heard anything about them for years. Only the gods know what they're doing out there now."

I finally put the next rolled pancake in my mouth, chewing methodically as I thought about the settlement. If there was anyone left alive, then what were they doing out there? Surviving, presumably. Without trade or support they must be living off the land. Hunting, trapping, foraging, perhaps some small-scale farming.

"I wonder if they would have food to trade with us," I said.

Terrance's nose wrinkled. "Yes they might sell us rat meat and groundnuts in exchange for soap and clothing."

I didn't know quite what to say to that, and we sat in silence for a minute. My thoughts wandered to the disturbing events of the night, and the stain I'd found on my predecessor's sword. It occurred to me that as the fort's healer, Terrance should know the circumstances of his death, if anyone did.

"Terrance–" I started, having to stop and clear my throat. He turned his attention to me, halfway through refilling his carafe cup, and I felt a sudden anxiety, though my question was a perfectly reasonable one. "I was wondering if you could tell me how Wilfram died."

Terrance's expression became sad. "It was a fatal fall. He was alive briefly, afterwards, but his injuries were too deep."

"I mean, what caused him to fall?"

The healer put the pitcher down and picked up his cup. His expression was still dour, but there was an interested spark in his eye.

"Apparently he threw himself from the roof. I asked the soldier on watch duty that night. He saw Wilfram climb up the ladder, walk to the edge, and throw himself over the side, like he was just jumping into a lake."

I swallowed the last of my pancake, then felt a lead weight settle in my stomach.

"Had he been unwell?" I asked flatly.

"I'll tell you what I told the commander. Healers who work in remote establishments are trained to see the signs. Wilf was a nervous man, there may have been instability towards the end, but he loved it out here. He loved the wilderness. I got the impression that he was never happy living among civilization. He certainly never showed any symptoms of misery to me, or that he would welcome his end."

"That doesn't really make me feel any better," I said.

"He was the first such casualty here for years, I don't think you need to worry about succumbing to something like that. But do come to me if you are feeling any kind of burden, or if you just want someone to talk to in confidence."

I picked at the lump of oatmeal on my plate with a spoon, not eating it, but just moving it around.

After a second of thought, in an off-hand manner, I asked, "Have you ever heard of an animal with white blood?"

Terrance gave me an odd look. It must have seemed like quite a change of subject to him.

"Perhaps I should be worried about you after all," he said.

"Just idle curiosity," I said, waving it off.

"I think there are some creatures with white blood. Crustaceans, seanids, rockslugs and the like. They have a copper blood, in contrast to our iron blood."

"Oh? Does the chef ever serve crab or such?"

"No, Sebastian. We're hundreds of miles from the coast. That would be quite a delivery. I don't think anyone has a craving that large."

Feeling embarrassed again, and unfairly chastised, I wiped my mouth with my fingers, putting my spoon onto my finished plate.

I was thinking of my next moves when the door burst open, revealing Commander Rosewood. She was wearing unfastened leather armor over an untucked shirt and brown pants. She belched loudly as she walked into the room.

She reached out and ruffled my hair as she passed, before sitting at the head of the table and pulling the entire serving bowl of oatmeal to her place, diving into it with the serving spoon.

I stood up quickly, straightening my hair, and doing my best to ignore her.

"Thank you, Terrance," I said, though I couldn't think what I was thanking him for. "I have duties to get to."

He nodded. "See you later, Sebastian."

With my ledger under my arm, I hurried for the door.