Turn 124

Lynden casts the spell he had readied, and fog fountains up from the snow-covered ground, concealing the two of them -- for the moment, as the surprised man shouts again, alerting his fellows.
    "Get to cover, wait a little bit and then hook up with ibn Fadil. Tell him what we found out." His voice is a quiet harsh whisper. "I'll catch up later, but they probably can only identify me, and they really want you."
    His last glimpse of the guards before the fog appeared had shown the just-split pairs re-converging on his presumed location, hands on their hilts.
    Lynden begins to protest then realizes that Emmett's summed up the situation pretty well. Indulging in an argument would not help their current situation. "Be careful and try not to do anything rash, won't you?" He touches Emmett on the shoulder quickly, with a few murmured words accompaniment, as he darts through the fog looking for cover.
    He conceals himself as best he can behind some snow and rubbish in an alley while the fog slowly clears. Though he feels terribly conspicuous, the soldiers are distracted by Emmett's taunting chuckle as the Half Man vanishes into the mist himself, and busy themselves searching in the direction they believe he went. Lynden waits some time to be sure they've gone before emerging.
    Ibn Fadil, meanwhile, lurks about, tracking the disturbance at a distance. He has no plans to get caught up in the pursuit, but hopes an opportunity to aid his crewmates will appear. After about a quarter hour he spots a familiar walk in an unfamiliar cloak, moving with evident caution through the streets. Lynden, at least, has escaped.
    But what about Emmett?
    Emmett has not been so fortunate, soon hearing the sounds of hot pursuit as his trail is discovered by the searchers. He is at a considerable disadvantage in flight, not knowing the town particularly well, but even more so in an unarmed and outnumbered battle.
    For several minutes it seems he cannot possibly escape the hunt now in full cry, dodging desperately from alley to alley in the blind hope that none of them dead-ends, clambering awkwardly over obstructions, and cursing the snow, the mission, and the planet in general. It comes as something of a shock when he realizes that the sound is fading a bit behind him, that a note of uncertainty has entered the shouts; they've lost his trail.
    The Half-Man pauses to catch his breath and orient himself, then cautiously turns his steps back toward the place where the day had properly begun -- the Guild Hall. Watching the building for a while provides no hint as to anything going on in there, so he decides to enter and find out. Not through the front door this time, though; he looks around back for the door they used in their abrupt departure and finds that it is both closed and locked, and actually one of several doors; the workshops each have their own private entrance, handy for the masters.
    On the third try the door gives; is it excitement or does he feel stronger than usual? He is in the workroom they had passed through so hastily before. There is no sound in response to his breaking in, so he can take time to examine the room, with its small grimy windows and months-accumulation of dust. There is a workbench, of course, covered with a scattering of tools and half-assembled devices, and two expensive-looking lamps positioned where they will do the most good. This Master had apparently been a locksmith. One end of the bench has been pressed into service as a writing desk, piled with letters about guild business -- the most recent dating back almost a year -- and sketches for a variety of devices, all innocuous. Near a comfortable chair in the corner is a small shelf of books. Laboriously translating the local script reveals _On Natural Principles_, _On Metals, Their Uses and Origins_, and several small, dense tomes of mathematics.
    The rest of the building proves to be empty of life. The other rooms downstairs are much like the one he has just seen, and there is also a larger chamber with a magnificent table, where they probably met in council. Upstairs is a large common work area for the guild's junior members, and where the guild appears to have stored several centuries' worth of accumulated things of no apparent utility. In the room where he and Lynden were entertained, the fire has almost burned out. It is quite clear that however many of them are still alive, they are not using this building for anything important.
    
    

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