CHAPTER TWENTY-NINEThe Path-delineator
The path-delineator raised more questions than answers. Sorrel and I spent hours poring over its dials to no avail. Trapped inside the snow cave while the weather raged outside in a growing agony of torturous birth pains, we stared at the mottled white face until it grew too dark to see.
“This one shows direction,” Sorrel concluded again, tapping the smaller dial and watching the ornate needle jump. He took it from my hand and turned in the tiny space, the indicator moving with him. “We kept an almost straight line from the labyrinth which means it must be to the south, in that direction. North and south are marked with dots and I’m thinking south must be nearest the front catch where you’d hold it in your hand. This tiny red line must be true north
