The watch post

The oriental gallery rose in a spiral. The walls were streaked with white veins, and the floor bore the marks of old wheels. Nym recognized the road as a salt transport route, once used to connect the Salines to several shelters in the west.

"Do you know where it ends? Zaelyra asked.

"I know where he was going when mine borrowed it."

"And now?"

"Now the map is older than me."

Ilda walked with them to the first crossroads, then entrusted them to a pair of guides from his community. She didn't go any further. Before leaving them, she gave Nym a small package of copper recovered from the pipeline.

"It's not a payment," she says. "It's a sample of the metal. If you want to understand the crack, you can study it. You won't touch driving without us."

Nym put away the fragment carefully. "I don't promise to find the cause."

"I'm not asking you for a promise."

The first guide was called Vek. He knew the passages to the watch post, but not beyond. His companion, Lurra, wore a short crossbow and rarely answered questions. They had not been chosen to be pleasant; they had been chosen because they knew the terrain.

After two hours, the path divided around a huge stone column. Vek led the group to the left. Nym stopped near an old conduit.

"The map says on the right," Zaelyra remarked.

"The map was made before the column fell," Vek replied. "On the right, the passage is blocked."

"Did you check it?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Last year."

Zaelyra noted the date. She asked to see the blockage, not to put Vek to the test, but so that the map would distinguish her testimony from their observation. They advanced to the branch. On the right, the tunnel was indeed obstructed by debris. A vein of water ooped above the pile and had turned the ground into compact mud.

Nym checked the conduit. "The water comes from higher. If the blockage gives way, the passage could fill up."

"Can we open it?" asked the guard.

"Maybe, but not today."

"However, we will need this road if the detour closes."

"Then it will be another decision, with tools and an estimate of the water level."

The guard nodded. He no longer offered to clear the stones himself.

They took the left. The gallery was narrower than what the map indicated, and a section of the ceiling forced the tall ones to move forward curved. The injured brother slowed down. The porters took turns without comment, until his sister who left the Salines became the subject of a joke that he did not appreciate.

Zaelyra did not take sides. She proposed a stop and asked the group if they wanted to continue at the same pace. The answers were shared. They chose a longer break rather than a forced step.

While they were resting, Kethra examined Ilda's copper fragment. An almost erased engraving ran along the edge: three strokes, then a small angle. She took out Saira's loop and put it next to it. The welds were different, but the angle was repeated.

"Do you recognize something? Zaelyra asked.

"Saira marked his tools like that. Not the tools she sold. The ones she kept."

"This piece comes from a conduct of the Salines."

"Or a stock used by the entire community."

"You're going to ask Ilda?"

"Yes. But not before I can show him why I ask the question."

Kethra put away the copper. She did not turn the similarity into evidence. Zaelyra noticed that she was learning to wait, even when the wait did not suit her.

At the next turn, Lurra raised his fist. Everyone stopped. A red thread crossed the passage at knee height, attached to two pitons. Small pieces of shell were hanging there.

"An alarm?" asked Rhylor.

"Or a mark of territory," Vek replied. "Don't touch him."

The wire did not resemble any of the saline signals. Nym signaled to the last groups to retreat. Zaelyra observed the ground beyond the line. He had light, almost erased footprints that headed towards a niche in the wall.

"Someone went under the wire," she says.

"Or he put it down after his passage," Lurra replied.

They waited. No noise came from the niche. Vek knew the thread, but said he hadn't seen it there before. He refused to cut it.

"The watch station is an hour from here," he says. "We can come back with the guard."

"What if someone is behind?" asked Brakka.

"Then he already knows we're here."

Zaelyra had a stop mark placed away from the wire. She did not want to send a smaller child to go under it, nor throw a stone into the niche. They retreated to a side room and sent Lurra to get the post guard, with Vek as a guide.

Their wait lasted almost two hours. The silence raised the worries. Part of the group feared an ambush; another feared that the mercenaries had found the passage. Rhylor organized the watch rounds. No one left the room alone.

Kethra stayed near the rope. "If it's Saira, she won't want us to wait for her in the hallway."

"If it's Saira, she will know that we didn't enter without permission," Zaelyra replied.

"What if she's in danger?"

"So we'll have to know before we act."

"You can always say that."

"No. I can say it as long as we don't know what's behind the thread. After that, you will have to choose."

The guard returned with Vek. His name was Sarn and he had an old burn on his cheek. He examined the wire without approaching it.

"It's not an alarm from home."

"To whom does it belong? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't know."

Sarn took out a small engraved plaque from his pocket. He put it on the ground, at a distance from the wire, then stepped back. The shells did not move. He waited again, then repeated the gesture with a pebble. Still nothing.

"The thread is not connected to a trap," says Nym. "It is used to hear if someone touches it."

"Or to make believe that we are heard," replied Sarn.

Lurra pointed to a small mark on the wall, near the niche. An open circle, crossed by three lines. The sign was different from those of Drizzt, Dhal and the saline, but Kethra turned pale when she saw it.

"Is it Saira's brand? Zaelyra asked.

"I saw her on her old packages. She used it when she wanted to find something without writing her name."

"And are you sure?"

"I'm sure I've seen it before. Not that she was the one who left her."

Sarn allowed a group approach, but not entry into the niche. They called first. No echo responded. Then the guard ranged a coin on the stone, the signal that the travelers used to announce that they were not approaching with a raised weapon.

The niche was empty. There was a strip of gray fabric, a piece of rope and a flattened metal box. The box was not locked. Sarn opened it with a tip, keeping it at a distance.

It contained dry seeds, two buds and a folded leaf, protected in a thin wax envelope. The writing had drooled on the edges. Ithryl was not there to read it, but Kethra recognized a particular way of separating the letters.

"Is it from Saira?" asked Rhylor.

"I can't swear."

She unfolded the sheet without taking it. The first words were almost gone. There were a few left:

... the salt route is no longer safe. Those who pass after us...

Then a truncated name: Keth...

Kethra stood still. She did not reach out.

"Shall we take it? Zaelyra asked.

Sarn answered before her. "It's on our territory. She stays here."

Kethra nodded. "It's fair."

They copied only the visible words, noting the state of the paper and the fact that they could not confirm the writing. Sarn closed the box and put it back in the niche. The common thread was left in place.

"We still have no proof that she is alive," says Kethra.

"No," Zaelyra replied.

"But she may have taken this path."

"Maybe."

Sarn authorized the group to continue to the watch post. He did not grant them access to the gallery beyond that. This time, no one was discussing.

The post was a round room built around an air chimney. An iron gate condemned the western passage. Above, a sign indicated the three rules of the old road: wait for the guide, report the missing, never travel alone.

"Is it still in force? Zaelyra asked.

"The first two," replied Sarn. "The third was added after Ulven's disappearance."

Kethra looked at the iron door. "You looked for her on the other side?"

"Yes. The door has been sealed for three years."

"And the passage continues?"

"We don't know."

The answer was familiar, but here it had a different weight. The watch station was not the threshold of an unknown road. It was the edge of an absence that the inhabitants had learned not to fill with stories.

Zaelyra had each observation recorded: the door, the wire, the incomplete message, the truncated Kethra's name. She made it clear that Kethra's interpretation was personal. Sarn checked the copy and asked him to remove the name.

"The word is almost readable," says Kethra.

"It's almost not an authorization."

She hesitated, then scratched the last letters on the copy. The original sheet would remain in the custody of Sarn.

When they resumed the road to the Salines, the map had gained three places and lost a name. Zaelyra looked at her without satisfaction. The passage to the west existed. We could follow him to a closed door. Beyond that, there was only an incomplete testimony, an old rule and the people who had chosen to keep the threshold.

This time, she wrote in the margin: do not continue without a guide to the Salines.