The margins of the story

A boy arrived through the reserve duct, his fingers black in ink and his sleeve torn. He wore under his tunic a leather case sealed by a red thread.

"Ithryl? Zaelyra asked.

The archivist blinked. "We've already met?"

"No. But you have the face of a man who ran with too much paper."

He looked at the case. "I didn't run enough."

Ithryl explained that he had worked in Sorcere's archives. A copy of the report mentioning Drizzt Do’Urden had disappeared from the official records; he had found a fragment of it in an inventory of equipment. The note "Did not hit" came from the testimony of an injured guard, but the document did not specify who had been threatened or why the guard had survived.

He put his case on the table without opening it. His fingers were covered with a purple ink, used in archival copies that were to remain visible under the light of the mushrooms. A cut crossed his palm.

"Did you run away from Sorcere? Zaelyra asked.

"I left before I was asked to sign a declaration."

"It's a leak."

"It's a way of naming things after the day."

Ithryl had first looked for the report to verify a quote copied from a Melee-Magthere manual. The version of the textbook presented Drizzt as an undisciplined student whose disobedience had been neutralized by his superiors. The original report did not confirm any of this. He only told an order, a door and a witness unable to understand why the young warrior had stopped.

"Did the priestesses delete the page? Nym asked.

"The consultation register bears a signature. Not the name of the one who took the page. I suspect an archivist who wanted to protect her. I could be wrong."

"Did you see the signature?" asked Vhaelyn.

Ithryl nodded. "A brand of Sorcere, then a rasure. The person who consulted the file knew that she would be identifiable. She tried to erase it afterwards."

"Why don't you keep this information to yourself?"

"Because it doesn't help me identify the hand. It only indicates that one hand wanted to disappear."

He took out of the case a sheet covered with narrow columns. It was not the report, but the list of documents that had been transferred from one room to another. Several lines had the same withdrawal symbol.

"The fragment on Do’Urden was moved three times before the index was burned. Each time, someone copied the date, but not the reason for the trip."

Zaelyra compared the dates. "The copies were made by different scribes."

"Yes. But each scribe left the same blank margin."

"Maybe it's an archive rule."

"It's one. The disputed documents must not touch the other entries."

Ithryl placed the sheets side by side. At the location of the margin, a sequence of numbers was noted in purple ink. It corresponded to the hours recorded in the report.

"This is not a lead to the person who hid the document," he says. "This is proof that many archivists have chosen to keep it, while refusing to pretend to know why it counted."

"Did you know them? Zaelyra asked.

"No. I didn't work with any of them. But I copied their records. I spent years believing that the order of the pages was neutral. Then I understood that someone was choosing what we could find."

He paused, his fingers on the case. "I tried to add a note to the catalog: "disputed provenance". My superior refused it. He asked me if I had proof that it was disputed."

"And you had one?"

"Three incompatible versions and one missing page. I replied that the absence was the proof. He told me that the absence does not testify."

"He was right," Nym said.

Ithryl looked at him, surprised.

Zaelyra finally put two fingers on the case, without taking it from him. "How to distinguish a faithful copy from a copy made to convince us?"

"You can't do it from a single piece."

Ithryl showed them the irregular edges of the fragment, the traces of old glue and a series of storage marks that did not appear on the transcript.

"I can establish that it has been kept with other reports from this period. I can compare ink and paper. I cannot prove that every sentence is true, nor that the witness understood what he saw."

"What if the document has been made?" asked Vhaelyn.

"So it was made early enough to deceive several archivists, or late enough to imitate their method. In both cases, we need more parts."

"Do you have other pieces?"

"Slips, dates, two lists of witnesses. Nothing that tells the scene."

Nym looked at the fragment. "A road that stops before the place you want to reach."

"Yes," said Ithryl. "The difference is that I can show you where it stops."

Zaelyra removed her fingers from the case. She didn't need a story that persuades her. She needed a clear enough origin so that others could challenge hers.

"The absence does not speak," continued Nym. "But we can note who decided not to leave him a place."

The archivist looked down at the sheets. He doesn't smile. He wrote the remark in the margin, with the date and name of Nym.

"Why keep such an incomplete document?"

"Because complete stories are often the most convenient. This obliges us to leave open questions."

Zaelyra looked at the fragment without touching it. She had heard of Drizzt as a hero, a traitor, a monster and a lie. The piece of paper did not confirm any of these names.

"Do you plan to show it to the refugees? She asked.

"Only if someone asks me."

"What if they ask you what he proves?"

"I will tell them what he does not prove."

Ithryl unfolded a copy. The writing was damaged, some lines were missing. The name of Do’Urden appeared next to an order from Melee-Magthere. There was no prophecy or explanation. Just hours, witnesses and the mention of a door left open.

"I thought this report would prove that we could change things," he says. "Then I understood that it proved above all that a choice leaves traces that someone can erase."

"Why did you win it? Nym asked.

"Because the priestesses burned the index finger. Not the report. Someone knew he mattered."

He handed the document to Zaelyra. She didn't take it.

"You risked it for me to read it?"

"I risked it because I didn't know who to give it to."

"Keep it."

Ithryl seemed surprised.

"We don't need you to tell us what it means. We need to know where it comes from, and what is missing."

The archivist carefully folded the copy. "So I stay until the pages are compared."

"It could last."

"Archives always last longer than archivists. It's a mediocre consolation, but it's the only one I have."

Zaelyra noted the origin of the fragment on her map, without adding an interpretation. Drizzt's rumor had been the first thread. She would not become the model of their path.

In the distance, the mercenaries began to knock on the north door.