Roger’s gate stood beneath a cypress tree in the Gloom-Fens, where the water smelled of peat and old rain.
The gate was a brass arch with a crooked sign: ALL VISITORS WELCOME BY CONSENT.
Someone had added HERONS BY APPOINTMENT in smaller letters.
“Who’s the Convenor?” Mara asked.
“Person responsible for keeping the doors agreed upon,” Roger said.
“Or at least they were last I heard. The title changes every time somebody argues about it.”
Malakor inspected the arch.
Her unusual sight was invisible, but Mara could feel her considering the possible routes, like someone studying a chessboard without wanting to move the pieces for another player.
“The crossing is unstable,” she said.
“Can you repair it?” Elias asked.
“I can identify where it will fail. Repair is more useful if someone knows how to build a door.”
Roger grinned.
“Now you’re talking.”
He pulled a toolkit from his vest and set to work.
Bubble Gurl fed him readings while Mara and Elias held the arch steady with their powers.
The shared current wanted to surge between them.
Elias kept it from breaking the brass.
Mara shaped it into a narrow brace of violet light.
When the gate finally opened, it showed a platform suspended over a landscape of intersecting paths.
Bridges led to doorways of different shapes and colors.
Some opened onto cities; others onto forests, skies, or rooms with no visible horizon.
Confluence was quieter than Mara expected.
People crossed at measured intervals, each carrying tokens that marked their agreement to travel.
A sign warned that some crossings required a guide.
Another said that consent to enter did not mean consent to stay.
At the center stood a woman in a travel-stained coat, listening as a line of visitors described a door that had gone blank. Get faster updates on g.com.
Her name was Pippa.
She led them through the main hall to the central table, where Roger’s friends were gathered.
Malakor was greeted by a frog in an orange vest, a man in a red cloak, and another frog who looked almost exactly like the first.
“Sir Roger,” said the red-cloaked man.
“Rog,” said the other frog.
Roger sighed.
“This is getting out of hand.”
Pippa cut off the reunion before the three could argue about who had the oldest chair.
She listened to Bubble Gurl’s readings, then placed an old chart on the table.
“The Confluence paths are being drawn toward one anchor,” she said.
“We found this symbol at three closed doors.”
The mark was a brass compass crossed by a thin white line.
Mara recognized the shape from the Cartographer’s face.
“Where does the anchor lead?” Elias asked.
Pippa traced a path through the chart.
“There’s an unregistered crossing beyond the western end. It predates the current network. The Confluence was built around it, not over it.”
“Who built it?” Mara asked.
“Someone who called himself the Waykeeper. He believed worlds had to be protected from one another.”
“By closing the doors?” Bubble Gurl asked.
“By deciding which doors should exist.”
Malakor leaned over the map.
“The Cartographer may be his work.”
A bell chimed.
The chart’s ink slid toward its edges.
One by one, the drawn paths disappeared. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Outside, the city beyond Confluence flickered between versions.
A red-roofed bakery became a stretch of empty road, then a wall of blue glass.
A little girl dropped her paper boat and began crying.
Mara reached for her.
The child flinched, then looked up as if trying to remember why she had come outside.
“No,” Elias said softly.
“Not her too.”
The Cartographer’s voice traveled through the hall.
“Unstable crossing detected. Consolidation will begin.”
Every person on the platform froze.
The floating doors swung toward the child like compass needles.
Malakor moved first.
She stepped between the girl and the nearest arch.
Roger and Sir Roger planted themselves beside her.
Rog struck the floor with his hammer, cracking the stone around the door’s base.
Mara and Elias linked hands.
Violet and gold light traveled through their arms and wrapped the child in a shell.
Bubble Gurl’s device whined as it measured the boundary.
The Cartographer appeared at the far end of the platform.
Its brass face rotated toward them.
“An anchor is required,” it said.
“Offer a stable bond. The rest will follow.”
Mara’s grip tightened.
“You’ll have to make one.”
“No. I only need to find one.”
Its gaze settled on the twins.