The plate returned

Veli did not give them a whole map. He walked with the rope of small plates wrapped around his wrist and untied a sign only when they reached the place he represented.

At the first stop, he put the plate on a flat stone. The drawing of a well was engraved on one side; on the other, a mark indicated that the water had not been checked for two cycles.

Nym examined the opening without approaching it. The air that rose had no smell, but the silk thread was covered with condensation.

"Can we fill the gourds?" asked Veli.

"Not before testing the water."

"The community is using it."

"Then she knows what to expect. We don't know if our group will react in the same way."

Veli is not offended. He called an old svirfneblin who worked not far from there. She showed them the signs of the source: the taste changed after the rains, and the children should not drink it when the foam turned red.

Nym tood a small amount and waited. They only filled a gourd, which they marked with charcoal. The others remained empty until the next stop.

"Do you always make so much fuss before drinking?" asked the merchant.

"Only when you don't know what's in the water," Nym replied.

"What if we are thirsty?"

"So we decide if risk is better than thirst. But we do not claim that the risk does not exist."

The source was not toxic. It contained an amount of salt that could make you sick if you drank too much. Veli noted the result on his plate, then returned it to Zaelyra.

"Is she yours now? She asked.

"No. She is on the road. You return it to the next stop."

They advanced into a wider gallery where the rock took on shades of amber. Light filaments ran under the wall, drawing irregular lines. Tazri walked near Veli and asked him why the plates were connected by a rope.

"Because the roads change, but the rope can be redone."

"What if we lose a plate?"

"We record it again, if anyone knows the place."

"So it's not the plate that keeps the way."

Veli gave him a surprised look. "No. It's the people who remember together."

The group stopped near an old toll station. A wooden barrier blocked the entrance, covered with inscriptions in several languages. Veli asked the travelers to stay behind him while he announced their presence.

A woman appeared on the stone balcony. She wore a leather jacket with reinforced shoulders and a register attached to her waist.

"You come from the refuge?"

"Yes. Mara sends you."

"She could have warned."

"She didn't know when we would arrive."

"Who accompanies you?"

Veli gave the number of people and named the wounded, without revealing the names of those who had chosen to stay behind. The woman went down, observed their weapons arranged and asked for their road license plate.

Zaelyra handed it to him. The caretaker compared her to her register, then frowned.

"This brand is fake."

"Veli gave it to us at the shelter," says Zaelyra.

"The symbol is good. The engraving is not."

Veli took the plate. Under the sign of the refuge, someone had added a tiny, almost invisible line that transformed the waiting mark into an authorization to pass.

"I didn't engrave that," he says.

"Someone must have taken it before you gave it to Zaelyra," said the caretaker.

"She was in my hand."

The woman turned to the group. "Three days ago, travelers entered with the same brand. They claimed that the shelter had given them free passage. They didn't return their plate."

"How many were they? Zaelyra asked.

"Five. Two drows, a dwarf, two humans. They paid the toll, then went west."

"Do you have a description?"

"No. They paid in advance for a road we didn't give them."

Veli observed the falsified sign. "Someone wants to pretend to be the refuge."

"Or wants us to think so," says Zaelyra.

The caretaker introduced herself as Maera Venn, head of the post. She didn't let the group in. They would wait in the outside gallery while she checked the registers. The fake plate would stay with her.

"Can't we continue?" asked the merchant.

"Not with a contested brand," replied Maera.

"It's absurd."

"It's less absurd than letting someone pass on a false order."

Zaelyra accepted the verification. Veli, on the other hand, sat on a box and fixed the empty rope to his wrist.

"Are you afraid that Mara thinks you gave her?" asked Tazri.

"I'm afraid she's right to think so."

"Did you give it?"

"No."

"So she's not right."

"People don't need reason to believe one thing. They need elements."

Zaelyra heard the echo of her own rules in the answer. She didn't tell him she believed him. She asked Maera if there was a way to check the passage of the plate from the shelter.

The caretaker returned her register. "Each plate has a number under the rope. It is not registered."

"She comes from the shelter."

"Maybe. Or someone copied his drawing."

Veli detached the rope from his wrist and placed it in front of Maera. The knots were irregular, marked by a red thread at specific intervals.

"This is Mara's rope," he said. "She never leaves the plates."

Maera examined the knots, then the false engraving. "This is not the plaque of the refuge. It's a copy."

Veli resumed the rope, but her face did not lighten. "Someone took the time to do it."

Maera let them enter the courtyard of the post, not further away. She served them a clear soup and explained that a second group had tried to cross the toll with a similar copy the day before. This one had not left for the west. He had been arrested by the guards after threatening a traveler who refused to pay.

"Where is he now? Zaelyra asked.

"In the waiting room."

"Can I talk to them?" "

"Why?"

"To know if they used the same sign and if they saw the other five."

"You are not an investigator."

"No. But we have the same mark on our notes. I may be able to recognize what was copied."

Maera hesitated. "You will talk behind a grid. You don't promise anything and you don't give the names of those who travel with you."

"Okay."

The waiting room smelled of iron and damp laundry. Three travelers were sitting there, a drow with light hair, an elderly human and a young dwarf with a bandaged wrist. They didn't wear the same fake plate.

"You copied the sign of the refuge? Zaelyra asked.

The drow man straightened up. "We bought a map."

"To whom?"

"A merchant. He told us that the toll was settled."

"Did he give you a plate?"

"Yes."

"Do you still have it?"

The man shook his head. "The guard took her."

Zaelyra didn't ask her name. He didn't give it. She only asked him if the plaque had a line added to the symbol of the refuge.

"Yes."

"And the people who sold it to you?"

"They said they had already crossed."

"Have you seen them?"

"No."

The elderly woman intervened. "He wanted to pay without asking any questions. We were tired. The dwarf had a fever."

"Did the merchant say where to find the road?"

"He gave us a direction, not a passage."

Maera ended the interview. The caretaker had no proof that these travelers were innocent, but she had no reason to keep them either. She released them under escort, giving them a detour map and canceling the passage fees.

Before they left, Zaelyra described to them the difference between the real sign and the copy, without giving the details of the road. The drow man listened to him, then looked at the house's mark on his loop.

"Do you think everyone should travel with a map?"

"I think everyone should know what they are asked to follow."

"What if the map lies?"

"So we look for who drew it, and when."

"It's a lot of work."

"Yes."

The traveler did not thank her. He left the post with his companions.

Maera kept the falsified copy. She authorized Veli to continue to the next stop, but demanded that he return with the plate intact. The road had ceased to be a simple matter of hospitality. Someone made fake passes, and travelers who bought them could become both victims and threats.

Zaelyra noted the added line, the number of groups concerned and the lack of a reliable description of the seller. She wrote in the margin: do not attribute the falsification to a House without proof.

Kethra read the sentence. "You think of Bregan D’aerthe."

"I think of all those who sell a road without having checked it."

"This includes a lot of people."

"Presely."

Veli took the road plate and put it back on his rope. "The next stop will decide if she still wants to receive us."

The merchant got up. "What if she refuses?"

"We will have the answer."

"This is not an itinerary."

"No," said Zaelyra. "It's a limit."