At noon on Day 160, the autumn sun stood directly overhead. It cast crisp, sharp shadows beneath the roof edges of the communal drying shed.
Davren Venn walked to the long, unpainted ash worktable that sat outside the shed doors. The very table where the pottery elders sorted finished ware on market mornings. He leaned his ash walking stick against the bench. He unrolled the wide metal tube of cream-colored linen paper, weighting the corners with four polished river cobbles.
Kezra and Fellis walked over from the kiln trench, wiping their hands on dry cotton rags.
“What do you have there, Davren?” Kezra asked, looking down at the broad sheet.
Spread across the table was a beautifully drafted route chart, carried out in fine lampblack ink with wash-tinted height contours. It depicted the entire two-hundred-mile hall from Kilnstep to Alderfast Basin. But it was drawn in a manner entirely different from any royal military map or commercial carrier ledger Kezra had ever seen.
“This is my proposed accessible route check for the spring trading season,” Davren said, his voice quiet with pride and careful thought. “I drafted the first stages during our march from Highriver. I spent the morning checking the gradients against your public road folio.”
