When the desert raiders stormed the city's church they did not burn the Bibles, theological texts, or illuminated manuscripts. Instead they burned the maps.
Your maps, they said, are the feeble representations of shadows. They are veils behind which nothing lies, for the physical world, like the metaphysical, is ever-shifting and torrential.
For the priests, witnesses reported, it could not have been worse. They fell and moaned.
Throughout that year strange earthquakes troubled the deserts of New Mexico. A traveler passing through the region noted, "It seemed that every morning the Earth would groan and shift beneath our feet, as if tired and weary, as if our steps disturbed its slumber. The studied men spoke of the fall of Atlas . . . Our charts did not hold up. Landmarks rose and fell, were swallowed up by some intangible whim. It is miraculous that we escaped the borders of the State at all."
Not without correlation, an amateur astronomer noticed heavenly phenomena in the same reg