The three lines

Ilda led them to a copper door almost droped in the rock. She didn't open it right away. She waited for Nym to check the air current, then turned a handle hidden under a plate of salt.

"This door leads to an old control chamber," she says. "She's been out of service for years. You don't touch the wheels, even if they seem to turn."

"Understood," replied Zaelyra.

Ilda stared at her. "I told everyone."

"And everyone heard."

The caretaker opened the door just enough to pass by. The metal creaked. A smell of stagnant water and dust jumped in their faces. Rhylor signaled to the other two to stay behind him, but Zaelyra waited for Ilda to enter first.

The chamber stretched under the Salines, supported by low arches. Copper pipes passed through the ceiling. Some were split, others had been removed. In the center, a circular basin was empty, except for a layer of brown salt and old footprints.

Nym squats near the first valve. "The leak from your room three comes from here?"

"Maybe. We have condemned the main driving, but we do not know if the drift is still stable."

"I can follow her to the wall. No further without your tools."

Ilda handed him a stem and remained by his side. Nym advanced slowly, describing every sign and every change in pressure. The guardian corrected two of her guesses. He did not protest; he changed his notes.

Zaelyra, on the other hand, studied the footprints around the basin. Most were erased. However, three series were distinguished: heavy boots, narrow soles and bare feet. The traces were not clear enough to say how many people had passed, but the dust had settled differently at the bottom of the steps.

"The fingerprints are not all the same age," she says.

Rhylor observed the edges of the pool. "Some are recent?"

"I don't know. But they cut the dust."

Ilda bent down. "The goalkeepers come to check the valves once a season."

"And the others?"

"Smugglers, maybe. People hiding. I don't ask questions until they enter our rooms."

To the north of the basin, a smaller door had been forced. The lock had been removed cleanly, without metal splinters. Someone knew the mechanism.

Ilda put his hand on the frame. "This play is doomed."

"Since when? Zaelyra asked.

"Since before I arrived."

"You never opened it?"

"No."

"Why did you show it to us?"

"Because you're looking for the road. She may pass behind. And because I don't want another open door without witnesses."

Ilda took out a flat key, but did not slip it into the lock. "If we open, you don't cross the threshold until I've inspected it."

They accepted. She turned the key. The door opened onto a narrow corridor, whose walls were covered with a white mineral powder. The footprints continued there. Here, the bare steps had stopped; the heavy boots continued.

Kethra approached the doormanle. "The three traits."

On the interior wood, someone had engraved three oblique marks. The same as with the name of Saira, in the gallery.

"Do you recognize the sign? Zaelyra asked.

"I recognize a habit. Saira had three lines when she didn't want to sign. She said that names traveled faster than people."

"You're sure it's his brand?"

Kethra passed her thumb over the notches without touching them. "No. I'm sure she used these three traits. I can't prove that she was the one who engraved them here."

Ilda seemed neither convinced nor surprised. "The room remained closed. These marks may date from before his conviction."

"So they are old?" asked Rhylor.

"I don't know. The wood has dried, but it has also been salted."

They didn't open the room anymore. Ilda passed a rod through the gap and checked that no obstacle was blocking it. The air circulated there, weak but regular. Nym measured the pressure. The passage was not drowned, but a sound of water persisted beyond.

"We have to see how far the corridor goes," says Zaelyra.

"No," replied Ilda. "You have to tell me what you know. I will decide if our guardians explore it."

Zaelyra refrained from replying. The agreement gave them only a limited right of observation. She did not have the right to make a broader permission because the discovery interested her.

Kethra was still staring at the three lines.

"If she has passed here, you will want to continue," says Zaelyra.

"Yes."

"Even if Ilda says no?"

Kethra hesitated. "I don't know what I'll do."

"Say it before you decide."

"I just did it."

"Good."

Ilda brought the door back against its frame, without locking it. She made a survey of the room, then asked the visitors to describe what they had seen. Nym gave the air measurements, Rhylor the traces and Zaelyra the location of the corridor. Kethra, on the other hand, described the three brands and Saira's habit, specifying that she could be wrong.

Ilda recorded each testimony on a wax tablet. "It will be enough to ask the council for an inspection, not enough to open the room."

"And the road to the west? Zaelyra asked.

"She goes through the next gallery, if she hasn't given in. The door is blocked on the other side."

"Who blocked her?"

"No one knows."

"Do you want us to check?"

"No. I want you to come back with what you already know."

The answer disappointed Kethra. She turned away from the door.

On the way back, they found a wooden tablet stuck behind a pipe. Ilda forbids them to remove it. She examined it in the light, then wiped it with a dry cloth. A name, almost erased, was engraved in common letters: Saira V. Below, a date was distinguished according to the old svirfneblins calendar.

Ithryl was not with them; Zaelyra could not convert the date with certainty. She copied it exactly, sign by sign.

Kethra approached without crossing the limit that Ilda had drawn with a finger on the ground.

"Is it his writing? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't know. She wrote her name with an angle in S, but so many people were able to copy a letter."

"But this date establishes that a Saira came here."

"If the date was engraved at the same time as the name."

Ilda raised the tablet towards the light. The depth of the letters differed. The name had been engraved later than the date, or with a different tool.

"This is not proof," says Kethra.

"No," Zaelyra replied. "It's a better question."

They reported to Ilda, then left without opening the room. The return trip seemed longer to them. Each door they had walked through had asked them for permission that they were not used to asking for. The Salines were not an empty road made available to them; it was the territory of people who had already paid the price of hospitality.

When they reached the threshold, Brakka was waiting for them, arms crossed. Tazri was sitting next to her, the box of maps on her knees.

"So?" asked Brakka.

"The road continues. It is blocked by a door that we are not allowed to open."

"Did you see what's behind?"

"No."

Kethra added: "We found the name of Saira. Not his person."

She showed the transcription of the tablet, without interpreting it further. Brakka read it and returned it.

"Does it help you?"

"That prevents me from saying that she has never been here."

"It's not much."

"No. But it's honest."

Zaelyra reported to the group the measures, risks and limits imposed by the inhabitants. Then she waited for their questions before telling them what she herself hoped for. The council had not yet decided whether they could continue.

Tazri put a finger on the map. "The road is here."

"Yes," Zaelyra replied.

"But it doesn't belong to us."

"No."

The child folded the map carefully. "Then you have to ask again."