The Cartographers Map
The Guild of Cartographers was the oldest institution in Meridian, older than the merchant councils, older than the city walls, older in its present form than the current dynasty by a factor of three. It had mapped the city continuously for four hundred and eighty years, producing a new comprehensive chart every decade and updating its running record of changes weekly — new buildings, demolished structures, streets renamed, boundaries revised. The archive beneath the Guild hall contained the most detailed record of a single city's physical history that existed anywhere in the known world.
Which made it all the more alarming, Cartographer Second Class Emre Nasser reflected, that the current map was wrong.
Not wrong in the small ways maps were always slightly wrong — the imprecision of survey instruments, the difficulty of representing three dimensions in two, the tendency of individual measurements to accumulate minor errors over time. Wrong in ways that should have been impossible. Streets that had been documented for two hundred years were not where the documentation said they were. Buildings whose foundations he had personally verified last quarter had shifted, not by the millimetres that settlement and subsidence produced over decades, but by metres — by amounts that would have required demolition and reconstruction and that had produced no noise, no disruption, no record