It would be wet today, thought Dante Salone gloomily, as he picked his way through a sludgy path. Three miles away in his hastily-built surveying shanty, was a warm fire and heavy quilts just waiting for him; but since when had he ever been allowed to enjoy such simple comforts.

No, it was, Dante, we need that map finished today, there's a band of scallywag thieves somewhere out in these woods, and we've got to catch them! OF course, when they did catch them, it's not like he would get any credit. He'd trudge through the dismal forest all day long, endangering his life in many ways, braving harsh winds, fearing the bandits might spring him any moment, and probably catch a cold in the bargain. Such was the life of a map-maker.

A wet branch slapped him in the face, and he wished to high heaven he'd been born in a desert. Stopping to wipe the wet substance from the tops of his stooped shoulders, a odd noise greeted his ear. Somehow, his footsteps hadn't stopped with him. And they were... multiplying?!

The rumored bandits. Fantastic. There was a foreign spring in his step, and the parchment tucked carefully in his shirt, he moved quickly into a small clearing, glancing over his shoulder several times to make sure they weren't pursuing.

Sadly, his hearing wasn't as good as his sense of direction, and before he knew entirely what was going on, he ran straight into Eledhe.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Threng grimaced as a wet ball of snow firmly impacted the back of Kjan's head. No doubt this favour would be returned, with Threng being pulled into it all. The antisocial assasin (as he had so lovingly been dubbed) slunk behind a tree to avoid being seen. The last thing he wanted to do was be cold, much less wet and cold. He coudn't help, however, but to make a few snowballs himself, just in case. Wether it was the side of him that was "always on guard, always ready for anything" side, or a little bit of his past childhood peeking out, he didn't know.

Kjan cringed as the icy slush leaked through the collar of his shirt and slid down his back, effectively soaking the last part of him that had been spared from the miserable rain. After getting over the initial shock of having a fistful of wet snow added to his attire, he spared a surreptitious glance over his shoulder that left no doubt as to who the offender was. Phaerin. He immediately scooped up a snowball of his own, whirling around with the intent of nailing their beloved leader directly in the face, only to stop short as he registered the arrival of a new face.

Unfortunately, the snowball did not stop. It continued to fly through the air, but instead of hitting its intended target, it sped past, not stopping until it came into contact with the newcomer and a certain emotionally disturbed woman bearing sharp objects who had just been run into by said newcomer. Kjan could only stare, slack-jawed and utterly speechless, as he hastily tried to determine whether it would be better to run away now or simply plead for a quick and relatively painless death.

Eledhe's expression changed curiously from surprise to shock to a dangerous mien that promised sharp objects aplenty in the immediate future. Fortunately, her attention was somewhat divided between finding the thrower of the snowball - and that was hardly very difficult - and whirling on this newcomer. He evidently had rather bad luck, as it was debatable that there couldn't have been a worse member of the party to run into.

"Who," she demanded, fingers drumming a dangerous pattern on the hilt of her scimitar, "are you?"

The Phantom covertly rolled his eyes and trudged to the front of the party, wiping his wet hands on Kjan's cloak as he went by. "She asks a good question, if not a courteous one," he put in cheerfully.

This, unfortunately, left Eledhe free to stalk toward the perpetrator of the crime - i.e., thrower of the snowball, i.e. Kjan - drumming an increasingly hard rhythm on the hilt of her sharp pointy object. "I don't suppose," she said in a tone of deceptive calm that would have made any human being in their right mind abandon all they valued and run for their lives, "you know anything about the cold, wet material that seems to have come from your direction and is currently making its way down the only dry part of me up until now?"

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A woman. A bit of an - unhappy woman? Dante pushed away from her without so much as a I beg your pardon, or Please don't kill me. After all, he'd always been of the opinion that etiquette was more overrated than not. Then again - generally unhappy woman weren't overrated.

Although Dante wasn't usually one to be at a loss for words, he responded in some kind of incoherent muttering, as he backed away from the terrible bandit woman. Suddenly he caught the Phantom out of the corner of his eye, and gaped severely. "I am an honest mapmaker," he said, his voice going a bit shrill at the "honest" bit, "And I haven't got a single rusted bolt on me you thieving scoundrel!"

He wasn't quite sure if he should have added that last bit, but figuring that he was going to die anyway (if not from the thieves, then from pneumonia) he might as well leave his impression on the world.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Well, that's good." Ash decided to greet the newcomer as well and stepped up beside the Phantom. "I don't believe we need much in the way of rusted bolts. Oh, by the way, I think the word <i>thief</i> is a bit strong, don't you?" He held his hand out towards the man. "Ashraem's the name."

Kjan slowly backed away from Silvryn, hands held in front of him in a perfectly convincing display of innocence. "No," he replied, though it came out roughly an octave-and-a-half higher than he'd intended. Clearing his throat, he tried again, all the while still backing up. "No." Curse it, what had Master Kavyn always said about situations like this? Ah, right, 'honesty is always the best policy.' Kjan quickly dismissed this idea as singularly unhelpful, as honesty in all likelihood would only find him at the wrong end of Eledhe's blade. No, now was the time to employ one of the few principles his father had bothered to bestow upon his children himself, though it had been more through example than any active form of teaching. "Jais did it," he blurted out quickly, using the momentary distraction to dart over to where the Phantom stood and use his friend as a sort of human shield.

Kjan quickly turned to face their new arrival, as if interrogation had been his intent to begin with. "I don't object to being called 'thief,'" he said in response to Ash's comment. He paused, frowning slightly as he studied the man's features. There was something familiar about him. "But I personally would be content receiving a name."

Staring awkwardly at the boy's hand in front of him, Dante finally allowed himself to place the very edge of his fingertips in it. Perhaps, just perhaps he'd misjudged these folk too quickly; they didn't have to be thieves, they could be murderers even. After brushing Ash's fingers, he quickly jerked his hand back, and stared towards yet another one of these villainous men, with a dreary, cold eye.

"Dante Salone," he said dourly. "And if you're not a band of thieving rogues, may I ask what it is exactly that you are? Traveling performers?"

He glanced over the group once more. They seemed mismatched enough, but why then were they traveling through the cloak of the dense woods instead of an open road?

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

"Our business, and I'm sure yours as well, is our own," replied the Phantom courteously enough. He seemed quite aware of Eledhe off to the side looking murderous, though, and shot her an even look. She obliged - somewhat surprisingly - and desisted from appearing liable to draw her blade at any moment, but even one of Jais's (debatable) common sense would have been wise to put a large distance between himself and her.

The Phantom found himself in a somewhat awkward situation, as when one received a name it was only common courtesy to give one in return, and he had no way of knowing whether this Dante Salone sympathized with his cause. "Ardan Merrell," he returned at length, having groped for a suitable name, and extended a hand himself. "Erm...can you tell us anything about the country around here?"

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Eyes grown wide with bafflement at such a question; Dante replied in a slightly miffed voice, "Well, I am a mapmaker."

He took the hand with a little less carefulness now, shirking off the feeling that these people weren't to be trusted, and trying to deny the curiosity that kept wanting to spring up. After all, he really didn't care what they were, so long as they moved on soon.

"If you keep up this direction," he said, as if thinking aloud, "You won't be going anywhere long. River ahead is flooded, impossible to ford without pneumonia or death in this weather. It's the da-" he cut himself short here, with a quick look at the ladies, although he doubted they seemed the type to take offense, best be on the safe side, "...it's the most blatantly poor country I've ever surveyed," he finished quickly.

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Courtesy of Dante's arrival, Jais was spared his well-rehearsed CQS is a filthy liar whose socks smell like the rabbit I ate last night. Not that he could have performed it adequately anyway. ED2 was gazing unblinkingly at him with those eyes like azure skies or the ocean or that piece of thread trailing from Kjan's vest, and he was finding it quite hard to focus for the butterflies having snowball fights in his stomach... We don't need to pretend anymore, Eledhe-poo. We can run away together and we can be happy and I can be Mr. Jais Darkstar...

Belnarr elbowed him rather sharply in the ribs.

"Hey, that's not very - "

"Shaddup and listen!" Belnarr roared, and instantly had Jais preoccupied with counting the number of times the dwarf's voice bounced off the mountainside. Number six was just drifting over the nearest snowcapped spur, when he noticed his new friend, the poor soul who looked sorely in need of a welcoming committee and a handshake.

Jais was all too happy to provide both.

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"And if we alter our course - ?" started the Phantom, and appeared to stop and calculate a moment. "Would you be willing to show us the way to the base of Kingfisher Pass? We can continue ourselves from there." He fished several gold crowns out of a pocket of his cloak and shifted them in his palm. "Four gold crowns? I don't think it need take you out of your way too badly."

Eledhe started forward, a protestation on her lips. Evidently Dante had not passed her scrutiny. The Phantom turned abruptly, expression unusually set. "Eledhe, could I have a word, later?"

She stopped short, looking more startled than disapproving, and surprisingly said nothing. The Phantom turned back with half a bow to Dante. "Excuse the interruption. Four gold crowns, then?"

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Four gold crowns was nothing to laugh at - especially when one was a mapmaker living on pittance and bread crusts, as it were. Dante pursed his lips in thought for a moment, his brows knotting in dilemma. Kingfisher Pass wasn't that far out of his way, and those men chasing the thieves could wait. There was no need why he shouldn't.

"Well," he finally sighed, "Seeing as I'll more'n likely be froze to death if I don't start moving again pretty soon, I accept. First what needs to be done however, is..." here he stopped, and glanced curiously at Kjan, as if noticing him from the first time. His brain racked itself, but he couldn't think of anyone in particular that he'd worked with whom resembled the young man. Still - there was something distinctly familiar about him.

Refocusing back on the other man in front of him - Merrell, he said his name was, - he continued, "We've got to find another way over that river. The only way to Kingfisher Pass is through it - and although generally it wouldn't be a problem to ford, you're liable to end up in the ocean before you can blink, the way that thing is running now."

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

Recognition flashed briefly across Kjan's features as their new arrival stated his name, though half a second later his expression was carefully guarded once more. Of all the people to randomly pick up in the wilderness, the Phantom chose this one. He glanced briefly over at said Phantom to see if he had made the same connection, but it didn't seem he had (though it was often impossible to tell with the Phantom). Of course, judging by the fact that Kjan was still living and not struggling to remain so, neither had Dante. Kjan smirked slightly, eyeing their newly-appointed guide with renewed interest. Oh, this was going to be fun.


"What would you advise, master cartographer?" Silvryn spoke up. "No doubt you know this terrain far better than we do."

"Well," began Dante, "You really have two choices, and neither are very pleasant. We could travel downstream, south, until we reach a more crossable area. No doubt that would be the simplest and most obvious choice; excepting one rather protruding fact. The farther south it runs, the wider the river gets. The bank is eroded and steep; and to cross it would mean a lot of struggling, and inevitable injuries of sorts."

He paused, and turned away for a moment; the territory he'd covered in this area catching his attention. For a moment he felt dazed, dizzy... as if he'd covered too much ground in too little time. It soon cleared.

"The only other means I know of crossing would be a rough raft. We could build one in a day, with whatever little means available to us. It might slow you down a bit, but not terrible so." His nose wrinkled involuntarily, and shaking his head, he added, "Though, I'm no architect now. Hopefully one of you people know something about putting together ...things?"

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"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

The Phantom took a brief moment to consider. Speed was of the essence here, and the faster they found out the information they needed, the better. It wasn't helping his concentration that this mapmaker looked suddenly somewhat familiar. He cast a surreptitious sideways glance at Kjan and could glean from his expression that he'd seen it too. But who - ? Somehow he could only remember being not especially inspired to immediately respect whoever it was. Anyway - "We'll build a raft," he decided abruptly. "I'm sure we can throw something together."

Bowing, he indicated to Dante with a gesture to go ahead in front, guide as he was, and fell back to walk beside Kjan and raise an eloquent eyebrow, which said quite a lot even considering that they couldn't very well ponder his identity while they were walking five feet behind him.

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