Darcy Pattison [Pattison - The Wayfinder

T he city lay swaddled in fgiz, the densest mists of the year; they swirled up out of the Rift at the citys back, covering everything with a thick blanket of damp fog. Yet preparations continued for Ironmaster Cyril Jordans fiftieth birthday party. Plans, announced weeks ago, included entertainment of jugglers, minstrels and belly dancers. Sweetmeats and dried fruits had been brought in the last caravan to Gil Rim from the capital city of Gil Dan and stored in cool cellars, along with the finest meads and ales. Because of the fog, Wayfinders were kept busy throughout the day, escorting tradesmen delivering waxed wheels of yellow and white cheeses, loaves of fragrant breads, and roasted rabbit, duck and goat. Nothing could keep Mayor Augustus Porteror any other citizenfrom attending the party, not even the fgiz.

Head Wayfinder Eli Eldras warned Cyril early that evening: This is the worst fgiz Ive seen in twenty years. I dont know how we can make it through the night without someone lost. He ran a hand through his iron gray mane. To make it worse, we may have to use apprentices to make sure everyone makes it to the party on time. Ill supervise them myself, but

Fine, fine. Cyril agreed, then turned to discuss ballads with the minstrels.

As the afternoon wore on, the fgiz grew deeper still, the Rift mists flowing thick over stone roofs, creeping under thresholds, and stalking through abandoned streets. An hour before Cyrils party was to begin, the Wayfinders were edgy, pacing around the dining room of Finders Hall. Then the moment for action arrived. They scattered into the night, red-and-white robes disappearing into the fog and cries muted.

May you have a prosperous night!

Good Finding!

T he mayors hand weighed heavily on Apprentice Wayfinder Winchal Eldrass shoulder. Win concentrated to keep from shrugging it off. His shoulder would ache tomorrow, but that was the price of being a Finder: soreshoulders, tired feet and fat purses.

Are we lost? said the mayor for the tenth time.

Win took pity on him. They took two more rapid steps; then Win said, Look.

Above their heads hung the Forge and Hammer, the Ironworkers Guild sign. From here on, huge lanterns hung on iron spikes every ten feet along an iron fence, dim beacons in the choking fog. Beyond their circle of light loomed a shapeless hulk, the Ironworkers Guild House.

The mayor dropped his hand with a sigh of relief, then quickly slapped it back on Wins shoulder. The Finders Guild told stories of folk losing their way just ten feet from a house and waiting hours for a Finder to Find them. Or worse, wandering around until they wound up outside the city gates, standing in awe at the sense-staggering edge of the Rift. The clouds coalesced into forms so substantial a lost soul was tempted to step out onto them. A fatal mistake.

During the fogless dry season even cowards scoffed at the stories. But this was the wet season. The mayor dared not take a chance on his own in the fgiz. His hand clutched Wins shoulder in a death grip.

Elaborate wrought-iron gates swung open easily at Wins touch. They entered a courtyard, and the great stone house towered foundationless over them.

Who goes there? called the gruff voice of the doorkeeper.

Apprentice Finder Eldras escorting Mayor Porter.

Apprentice Finder Angelus escorting Mistress Porter.

Win grunted. Kira had made good time, too, even escorting the mayors pampered wife.

Within a few steps the houses windows materialized, complete with wrought-iron grillwork. Bright beams of light trickled a few feet before dissipating in the fog. Muffled music seeped under the doorway.

Coins dropped into Wins hand, then Kiras hand. The mayor and his wife stumbled up the steps into the welcoming light and laughter.

Eli, Wins stepfather, appeared in a pool of light. He slapped them both on the back, then drew the red-and-white pin-striped robes of the Head Finder closer against the chilly mists. Good Finding!

Everyone else is here?

Yes, the mayor will get his grand entrance. And maybe, just maybe, well make it through this night. He pulled at his chin. The mayor shows his trust in our guild by letting our best apprentices escort him and his wife. You did well for the guild by making such good time. Well done.

The apprentices grinned.

We can Find anything, anywhere, anytime, Win said, and Kira agreed. In the fog the white halves of their apprentice robes disappeared, leaving only the red sides in a lopsided look that disoriented strangers. Win was neat and tidy, from his immaculate apprentices robe to closely cropped black hair to clean fingernails. The bright light from the house threw his face, especially his aristocratic nose, into sharp profile. At eleven, he and Kira were the oldest apprentices in Finders Hall. They were equally matched, except that Wins fear of heights kept him away from the edge of the Rift, while Kira was comfortable anywhere in the city. After five years of training, they hoped their flawless execution of duties this evening would clinch their positions as full-fledged Finders.

Kira, a large girl, reached up to unbind her blond hair which had been plaited and twisted into a massive knot on the nape of her neck.

Eli said, Lets get back to Finders Hall for a few hours of rest before we return to escort everyone home.

Race you, Kira said to Win. She shook her head, further loosening the locks that were already starting to frizz in the damp air.

Done, Win said, then loped away on long legs into the murk.

Slow down, Eli called after them, but it was a good-natured admonition. Hed been a young Finder once, flush in the knowledge that he could speed through fog that held most people immobile.

Win raced through the streets of upper Gil Rim. His Finders sense told him when to sidestep an obstacle or turn invisible street corners. As he ran, Win kept one Finding on Finders Hall and one on Kira. She paced him easily street by street until they reached Finders Square, where he headed for the main gate, while she darted in the side gate. Scorpions! He was faster, but he hadnt thought of that shortcut. He sprinted across the vacant square, down the street, and around to the apprentices door to Finders Hall. Too late. Kira leaned against the doorframe with extended hand. They both were panting slightly from the run, and their robes were soaked from the dense fog.

Kira said, You lose. Pay up.

W in hunched over his bowl, letting the fragrant steam from the thick vegetable stew warm his face before he scooped it into his mouth as fast as he could. The race up the hillside to Finders Hall had left him with a hollow pit in his stomach, which could be filled only with his mothers stew. His robe sizzled on a drying rack in front of the fire, mingling the smell of wet wool with that of the stew. He refilled his bowl from the small pot hanging in the fireplace in the familys chambers. Win slept upstairs with the apprentices now and usually ate in the hall with the others. Eli, as Head Finder, often preferred privacy, though, so Hazel, Wins mother, usually kept a small stewpot in their own chambers. When Win was famished, he often visited his parents hearth in hopes of more to eat.