Off the map

The passage led to a natural room where several families had taken refuge. Some came from the relay; others had been waiting there for days, guided by chalk marks and contradictory stories on a safe road.

They were more numerous than Zaelyra had expected. Children slept in rolled coats. A woman was treating a burn with cold water. An old man held a map that showed only one wall.

Some had waited three days. Others had just arrived. A family had crossed the galleries without shoes; a young man was carrying his injured sister on his back. No one asked if Zaelyra was noble. They asked where the water was, how long the walk would last and if the children could follow.

She answered every question without embellishing the road. When she didn't know, she said it. Nym completed his answers with air currents and water levels. Brakka joined them an hour later through a side gallery. She had held the baton while the last families came out, then left the door before it collapsed. The building was lost; its inhabitants, not.

"Shall we go back to help?" asked Pell.

"Brakka chose to stay," Rhylor replied. "We can't take back his choice in his place."

"But we can prepare a road for those who go out."

Zaelyra looked at the boy. "Yes. That's what we are going to do."

They drew a marching order. The slowest would leave in the center; the guides would open and close the line. Each adult would receive the name of two people to watch, never more. If one group were to stop, the others would continue to the next shelter instead of turning around without a plan.

They repeated the departure once, without leaving the room. Nym gave the instructions to the guides; Zaelyra asked the families to reformulate them in their own words. The first mother had retained the wrong stop signal. An old man confused the sign of refuge and that of unstable passage.

"If we had already hit the road, we would have discovered these mistakes outside," says Zaelyra.

"And outside, they would have cost more," replied Nym.

They started again. This time, each group chooses a person capable of reading the marks and another capable of explaining them to those who did not read. Pell volunteered to accompany the children. Sszindi wanted to stay close to the injured, even if his own wound was not closed.

"You can't run," says Zaelyra.

"Then I won't run. But I can count people."

She was entrusted with the list of those present, which she kept in her memory rather than on a sheet. She repeated the names in a low voice, then started again in the opposite order. If the group dispersed, she would know who was missing without leaving a record to those who were chasing them.

It was not an army. It was a series of decisions that they could still change.

"Are you Veyr's?" He asked.

"We come from the relay."

"Is he still standing?"

Zaelyra hesitated. "I don't know."

The man accepted the answer without lowering his head. "Then we'll wait to know."

Nym counted the food. They had for one day, two by rationing. The path to the Marches de Lune was possible, but the road required to cross an unstable area and an abandoned toll station. Not all could follow at the same pace.

"We're leaving for the next change of air," says Zaelyra. "Those who cannot walk will stay with a guard group. We will relays. No one will be forced to follow us."

"What if the mercenaries arrive?" asked a mother.

"We will defend the entrance."

"How long?"

Zaelyra looked at the adults, the children, the almost empty bags. "I don't know."

The answer did not calm anyone. But she didn't lie.

Rhylor approached. "A night. We stay one night, time to prepare the groups. Then, we leave."

"What if the road is closed? Nym asked.

"Then we'll look for another one."

"It's not a plan," he says.

"No. This is what we will do if the plan fails."

The old svirfneblin who had brought the map to the wall looked up. "What if the second road is closed too?"

Zaelyra put her palm on the common map. "We'll stop early enough to find out. We won't wait until we're stuck to decide."

The woman did not seem reassured. "You can't promise us that we'll go out."

"No."

"So what can you promise?"

Zaelyra looked at the marks they had added together. "That no one will be sent on a road whose dangers we hide. And that we will not say that a person is lost as long as there is still a way to check."

The woman nodded slowly. It was not a promise of salvation. It was a rule she could judge.

Tazri put the box in the center of the circle. She took out the marked map fragment of the open circle and unfolded it in front of everyone. The line led west, then stopped before the Moon Marches.

"Is this Dhal's road?" asked Rhylor.

Tazri nodded. Then she shook her head, as if to correct the question. She indicated the line, then the group around her.

"It's not just his anymore," says Zaelyra.

Rhylor looked at the sign without touching it. "No. But he started it."

They decided to stay one night, no more, to prepare the departures in small groups. The road to the west would not be taken until the next dawn. Everyone could still choose to stay, leave alone or follow the group. No one would be counted as a traitor for choosing another outcome.

When the lamps were reduced to their lowest glow, Zaelyra sat near the map. The noise of the room gradually calmed down: a cough, a child whispering in his sleep, the rubbing of a feather on the parchment.

She added to the edge of the route: temporary stop; departure at dawn; road not checked beyond the west bend.

Then she left the line unfinished.

"It's not a plan."

"No. It's a decision."

Kethra distributed the ropes and noticed who owed her what. Zaelyra let her do it, but had each debt written on a second sheet, visible to all. The merchant protested, then finally laughed.

"You just made my job much more complicated."

"It was already complicated."

"Now it's public. It's worse."

At the entrance, Ithryl copied the maps in several versions. Nym checked each of them. Tazri drew Dhal's passage on the smallest, then slipped it into Rhylor's hand.

"He said you could read the marks," she whispered.

Rhylor squeezed the map. "I read them too late."

"Maybe. But you are here."

Above the room, a rumble ran into the rock. The light changed, weak reflection of Narbonnel, filtered by several layers of stone. Menzoberranzan continued his cycle, ignoring those who had just left his roads.

Zaelyra took out the official map of the House. She unfolded it, then put it on a stone. The route led to a passage that no longer existed. She didn't burn it. She folded it and put it away with the others, as proof of what a map could hide.

Ithryl wrote on the back the approximate date, the name of the scribe who had sealed it and the places where the line no longer corresponded to the land. He did not copy Zesstra's seal.

"Why not keep a full copy? Zaelyra asked.

"Because a complete copy would be easier to confiscate."

"And a partial copy?"

"It can be completed by someone else."

Nym added to the edge a sign for the drafts. Rhylor noted the location of Dhal's plaque, without writing his own name. Pell drew the copper ball in a corner and returned it to Nym.

Tazri, on the other hand, drew a small arrow to the west. She didn't sign.

"Do you want us to keep your name? Zaelyra asked him.

Tazri shook his head.

Zaelyra did not register it.

Outside, the road to the Steps was waiting. Behind them, the relay was still holding. In front, no one knew what was there.

Zaelyra drew a new line on the common map.

She didn't give him a name.

It belonged to those who decided to follow it.