What we don't burn

The Matron's message arrived in a glass box carried by a white spider. The creature came down from the vault and placed the cylinder on the map table.

Zesstra demanded the return of Zaelyra and Vhaelyn. The fugitives would be handed over to the relay authorities. The maps, all the maps, had to be burned before the arrival of reinforcements.

"She wants to erase the road," says Rhylor.

"She wants to prevent others from taking her," Vhaelyn replied.

"Isn't it the same thing?" asked Brakka.

"Not always."

Zaelyra reread the order. The Matron did not mention either mercenaries or the wounded. She didn't say she sent them. She didn't need to do it.

"If the maps are destroyed, the mercenaries lose their advantage," says Vhaelyn. "But so do we."

Nym put his hand on the parchment. "A map is not the road."

"No. But without it, people will die in the passages."

"Then we don't burn everything."

Zaelyra pulled several blank leaves from the case. She chose the official map, the one that led to the cul-de-sac, and put it aside.

"We keep what allows families to go out. We remove the marks that reveal the stops of those who are still hidden. And we make different copies for each group."

"Incomplete maps? "Ithryl asked.

"Useful maps. Each person will know the path they must take, not that of others."

"It's dangerous," says Brakka.

"Yes."

"This is also what smugglers would do."

"Then we'll do better than the smugglers. We'll tell people what they don't know."

Nym nodded. "And we will not promise them that the road is safe."

Each copy would include the date of the last audit, the conditions under which it was made and the questions that remained open. A map without a date could turn an old danger into an eternal rule; a date, at least, would indicate when it had to be checked again.

They worked around the table. Ithryl checked the old legends; Nym indicated the air currents; Zaelyra traced the main routes. Vhaelyn erased the signs of the House's observation posts. Brakka dictated the unstable areas of the relay.

In the middle of the work, the old svirfneblin who was waiting near the wall put a small fragment of leather on the table. It had four names, written in brown ink.

"I want them to be on the map," she says.

"They are not roads," Brakka replied.

"These are the people I've been looking for since I arrived here."

Ithryl reached out to the fragment, then stopped. "If we add their names, those who find the map will know who it concerns."

"If we remove them, I won't know if I've found the right family," says the old woman.

Zaelyra turned the leather. "We can keep the names on this side, and the layout on the other. But it will not have to be separated."

"Then someone can take both."

"Yes. Zaelyra left the decision to the woman. "You can choose to keep your fragment, destroy it or entrust it to someone. We can help you make a copy without the names, but we will not choose for you."

The old woman kept the leather between her fingers for a long time. Then she copied the names on a separate sheet, which she fold in her sleeve. On the map, she drew four small circles, without initials.

"This is not a perfect answer," she says.

"No," Zaelyra replied. "It's an answer that you know the risk of."

The woman nodded and resumed her position near the wall. The map would not bear the names, but someone would keep them.

When the first copies were ready, Brakka took one and put it in the hands of an old svirfneblin who was waiting near the wall.

"Read it."

The woman followed the route with her finger. "This elbow is too narrow for a cart."

Nym checked the measurements, then nodded. "She's right."

Zaelyra erased the line and redrew it around a storage room. The old svirfneblin examined the new version, then passed it to a child who could read the marks but not the words.

"And him? She asked.

The boy found the entrance without help.

"Then this map can go," says Zaelyra.

Ithryl raised an eyebrow. "You have it checked by people who didn't draw it."

"Those who follow her didn't draw her either."

Each map received a different sign, chosen by its group: a notch, two dots, a blue line. No sign revealed the entire network. Nym kept the legends; Zaelyra kept the main routes; the refugees took the passages they needed.

Their work was slower than a single map. It would also be more difficult to use against them.

For the first time, no map had a single signature.

The cries of the mercenaries rose from the north gate. The beams moaned. A guard came running in.

"They opened the first door."

Brakka got up. "Everyone towards the exit is. Those who can hold a gun stay with me."

The girl, Tazri, approached the map. She added a tiny line in red ink, in a passage that no one had yet seen.

"Is this Dhal's road? Zaelyra asked.

Tazri nodded. Then she put a finger on the mark and said, in a hoarse voice that she had not used until then:

"He said not to burn it."

Rhylor stopped.

"Did you know my son?"

Tazri looked down. "He led us to the lake. He taught me how to draw the exits. He said that a road is useless if whoever finds it has to keep it for himself."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"A long time ago. He left with others to the west. He didn't tell me if he would come back."

Rhylor closed his eyes for a second. No proof of life. No grave. Only the choice of a man who had held a door open for strangers.

He took the map back and put it in front of Zaelyra. "So don't burn her."