By mid-morning on Day 154, the homeward party had reached the first western carrier relay depot along the foothills highway. The station was a sturdy, box-shaped compound built of dressed limestone and heavy pine timber, situated at the junction where the high mountain trail met the broad, rutted freight road that wound down toward the river valleys.
Inside the station’s charting room, a long frame stand table of smoothed ash wood had been cleared of inkhorns, oil lamps, and dispatch pouches.
Kezra Venn stood beside the table, unbuckling the brass buckles of her oilcloth map case. Her fingers were steady and calm. Beside her stood Fellis Dain, his braced left hand resting comfortably in a soft linen sling. At the same time, his good right hand helped her withdraw four large, rolled cylinders of heavy drawing linen.
Joric Thane stood on the opposite side of the table. It was flanked by his chief route clerk, a bald, spectacled man named Corvin who carried a brass proportional divider and a pair of land-mapper’s measuring tongs.
“Lay them out, Kezra,” Joric said, his voice quiet with skilled excitement.
Kezra unrolled the first sheet, weighting the four corners with polished lead cubes from Corvin’s desk.
