“I could,” she agreed. “But then people would think they knew it before they felt it.”

She laughed. “Not on my river.”

“The course of Chyan,” he said. “The only map worth taking.”

One rainy September, a lost hiker stumbled into her camp. Elias was a city planner, obsessed with efficiency. His maps were perfect. His life was scheduled. But his canoe had capsized a mile upstream, and he was soaked, shivering, furious at the universe’s lack of order.

“There’s always a direct route,” he muttered.

“You could map this,” he finally said.

“What’s that?” Chyan asked.