1633880583 (F) by Chris Willrich Page B

islands appeared and disappeared. Different scripts combined within the Chart . . . ancient runes mingled with the flowing calligraphy of Mirabad and the vertical script of the Karvaks. The proportions were ever-changing.
    She had some experience with dangerous books. She feared this one.
    “So what is it?” Joy said.
    Gaunt opened the book to a set of writings that looked like neat collections of twigs.
    Joy frowned. “Those are runes of the Bladed Isles. Walking Stick’s told me enough to help me recognize them, but I can’t read them. They don’t use runes there anymore, he said.”
    Bone said, “I believe he’s mostly right. This is an old book.”
    “I can only read some of this,” Gaunt said, “and then with uncertainty. But this is the Chart of Tomorrows .” She turned the page, and there was a map.
    Joy peered closer. “What is that place?”
    Walking Stick snorted. “It’s a map of the world, in which the Bladed Isles are shown in detail, and everything else becomes increasingly simplified and distorted as one travels east or south. I assure you, the maps made by the Eunuch Admiral of Qiangguo are much more reliable.”
    The map was indeed more detailed in the West, for Gaunt could recognize the island groups there. Tiny red runes marked a spot on the Contrariwise Coast, and another at Swanisle.
    Gaunt flipped to another page of runic text, then another map, this time of the Bladed Isles in the upper-left corner and Swanisle in the lower right. More places marked in red runes began appearing. The one at Swanisle was clearly in the north of that land. There were a few in the sea between, and many in and around the Bladed Isles.
    “This,” Gaunt said, “is a book of maps assembled by a wizard known only as the Winterjarl. Though it seems he had several coauthors. He claimed to have come from a future of infinite ice and snow, but he escaped backward through the years.”
    “Backward through the years?” Snow Pine put in. “What the hell does that even mean?”
    “You have seen,” said Walking Stick, “how time can flow at different speeds in two realms, like a rushing river beside a gentle stream. Now imagine leaving the flow of your river, backtracking along the land, and returning to the river at a place upstream. If this is possible with time, one might visit people long dead and places long vanished.”
    Gaunt flipped a page. Now the Bladed Isles’ northernmost island, Spydbanen, was shown in detail, several red markings on its coast. “What this book claims is that a person with the proper understanding can use the marked locations to sail through time. Now, why the Winterjarl says ‘sail’ when many of the spots are inland, I don’t know. I’m not one of the people with understanding.”
    “How did you get this book?” Joy said.
    “Oddly enough,” Bone said, “it was a gift. Someone with knowledge of us left it for us in the days when we sought the Silk Map. We do not know whom.”
    “A big coincidence,” Snow Pine said.
    “The kind of coincidence I have trouble believing,” Gaunt agreed. “But that’s a mystery for another time.” She turned more of the pages, seeking a particular spot. Even with the changeable nature of the book, she was becoming familiar with the place she wanted. “So. There are multiple languages here, and I confess there is much I can’t read. But I’ve made progress with the runes. The Winterjarl rambles about many aspects of the isles. Trolls. The underground uldra. The vortex of the Draugmaw. And . . .” Gaunt found the image of a hand marked with a rune resembling three intertwined lengths of chain, glossed by more runes yet.
    “That’s my mark!” Joy said. Her eagerness turned to accusation. “You knew this was here? Why didn’t you say anything?”
    “Right,” Snow Pine said. “What Joy said. Why?”
    “I’ve been unsure what the runes say,” Gaunt said, looking away. “I didn’t want to worry you. But it’s best you