It had taken twenty rangers twenty years to map the lands of the Northmarch in sufficient detail, but Archmage Denstil was now putting the final spell on it. Deep below the tower of Corith the Earl of Northmarch observed the completion of the work he had commissioned.

It was a map. Its scale was one inch to the mile, and it was rendered in a vertical scale as well as horizontal. He had been told the caverns beneath the terrain had been rendered as far as they had been mapped.

"It is done," the old wizard said.

The Earl had not noticed when the chanting stopped. "It looks the same," he said.

"Come take my hand, milord."

The Archmage stood where two grey-brown ribbons converged and became a thicker band which twisted away across the floor.

When he touched the wizard's hand the floor expanded away in all directions. Three hills grew up around them. Hills studded with buildings. One of the buildings crowned the tallest hill: Corith. The Earl stood in the market of his city looking up at his own tower.

"Are we there?"

"Yes. We are there, in the Map Room. What we see is a projection around us."

The old knight flinched as a pony-cart passed through them, and he noticed the bazzar was populated.

"Are these people..."

"This is what is happening now. You can stand on any point of the map and observe what is going on at that place at that time."

"Let me try," the earl said. He took a step, oriented himself, and was suddenly on a wide, dry plain. A large herd of horses grazed in the distance.

The earl smiled.