Cartographers, the whole lot of them. It’s a guild, or so they claim. They’re building a map of the Hedge — a physical map, formed of bits and scraps of whatever they can find. They hover over it obsessively. Half stay behind to contribute to the map, the other half goes out to collect bits or to map new parts of the brambled maze. Of course, the Hedge changes — it’s not a consistent place, and it shifts with the sluggish tumble of a languid dream, but the imps don’t care. They just keep on building the map, forever anon.
Those who have seen their map find it truly exhilarating: it’s alarmingly accurate, and one can gaze down into it and see themselves and others, small as little beetles wandering the pathways and channels and caverns. Anaximander, for the record, was reportedly the “original” cartographer that started tinkering with this physical (and in some places mechanicalmap) centuries before — but he’s been lost to the furthest flung reaches of the Thorns. They long for his presence once more.
- For every five minutes a changeling can look at the map, he gains +1 to rolls made to navigate the Hedge for the following week, to a maximum of +5 dice. A problem exists, though, in that the imps are protective of their work, and will attack any they find poring over their obsessive effort. Fortunately, they’re so obsessed that a changeling who succeeds on a Wits + Stealth roll can stand right next to one of these chattering, murmuring creatures (provided they’re not touching them, of course) and go on unnoticed.
- Dancers in the Dusk, p. 88