The added brand

Maera only opened the western door to them after receiving a message from the next post. She didn't give them the content. She only told them that the road was clear to the Bassin des Veilleurs and that they had to wait for an escort there.

Before they left, she handed Zaelyra a copy of the fake plate, this time without the added line.

"I don't want you to win," she says. "I want you to look at her."

Zaelyra compared the engraving to Mara's sign. The copy had been made in a softer material, then hardened in heat. The forger had reproduced the general form, but inverted two small marks on the reverse.

"Is it from a workshop? She asked.

"Probably."

"Which one?"

"I don't know."

Maera put his finger on a tiny symbol on the edge of the plate. "This sign appears on cargoes that pass through several roads. It is found in drows merchants, dwarves and humans. It does not designate a single organization."

Kethra leaned oft. She knew the symbol. "It's a broker's brand. Some Bregan D’aerthe employees use it, but not only them."

"Have you ever seen them? Zaelyra asked.

"Yes."

"On goods sold by you?"

Kethra stared at the sign. "Yes."

The answer did not surprise anyone. She didn't try to apologize.

"Is it the same broker who asked you for the road to Veyr? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't know. Brands are shared. I have never seen his face."

"Can you recognize his way of writing?"

"Maybe. If I see her."

Zaelyra didn't ask him to promise. Maera took back the copy and put it in his register.

Veli led them through a narrower passage, where the air rushed at regular intervals. The Vigileurs basin was half a day's walk away. The road plate indicated a stop guarded by a family of guards, who watched the flow of a spring and lent lamps to travelers.

The walk was quieter than the previous ones. The road widened in places, and pale mushrooms illuminated the walls. The young drow with the chin notch said that she had chosen to leave not because she wanted to live on the surface, but because her family had already decided what she would do with her life.

"I don't know what I want instead," she says.

"You don't have to know before you leave," Zaelyra replied.

"What if I like what I discover here?"

"Then you can choose to stay."

"What if I want to go home one day?"

Zaelyra looked at the gallery behind them. "So the way back will also have to be a possibility."

The young drow nodded her head. She did not ask if Zaelyra would come back herself.

Halfway, Veli stopped in front of a smooth wall. He removed the plate from his rope and placed it against an invisible notch. Part of the rock opened onto a small alcove where ground lamps and a bottle of oil rested.

"A deposit? Nym asked.

"A common reserve. People take what they need and leave what they can."

"How do you know that no one empties everything?"

"Sometimes someone does it. So there is no more reserve."

The merchant frowned. "Is that your only protection?"

"No. There are also people who need the reserve to exist tomorrow."

They filled two lamps, then left a measure of oil and a roll of wick. Zaelyra noted the quantity. Veli reminded him that the depot belonged to the road, not to a single community.

"Does the map indicate the deposit? She asked.

"No."

"Why?"

"Because those who know it don't need to read it. Those who don't know him can ask."

"And those who have no one to ask?"

Veli did not respond immediately. "Then maybe it should be indicated. But not on a map that anyone can take."

They added a small sign on the plate, visible only when the light passed through a notch. The reserve would remain findable for those who knew how to look for it, but its location would not be written in clear.

The Veilleurs basin turned out to be a natural basin, fed by a hot spring. Wooden walkways bypassed the water. Several lanterns were lit above the platforms, much more numerous than in the Salines. The light gave the walls an amber hue.

A woman in light armor was waiting for them on the walkway. Next to him stood a young human with pale skin, his eyes blindfolded by a clean cloth.

"Veli? She called.

"I'm here."

"Did you bring back the plate?"

He handed it to her. The woman checked it, then looked at the travelers.

"I am Ressa, guardian of the pool. The road to the west is closed tonight."

"Why? Zaelyra asked.

"A group arrived before you. They demanded the passage with a brand that looks like the one you brought."

"Where are they?"

"Waiting."

The young human at his side tilted his head towards Zaelyra. "You are the cartographer?"

"There are several in the group."

"Did you see the plate?"

"Yes."

"Do you recognize the name engraved on the back?"

He handed her a piece of copper. A series of letters was struck upside down: Venn.

The guardian stiffens. "It's not my name."

"It's my father's," said the young man. "He disappeared with the five travelers Maera told you about."

Ressa took his arm. "Senn, you had to wait."

"I've been waiting for three days."

Zaelyra observed the fragment. The name could be a signature, an order or a piece marking. He did not prove that Senn's father had made the fake plates, nor that he was alive.

"Where did you find this piece? She asked.

"In the reserve of the old post."

"Did you go there alone?"

"No. With two guards."

"Did they see the plate?"

"Yes."

"Then we should hear their version before drawing a conclusion."

Senn removed the piece of copper from his hand. "You talk as if a name never belonged to anyone."

"I speak like someone who knows that you can engrave a name on what you want."

Ressa demanded that the group wait in the lower courtyard. She couldn't allow them to cross as long as she didn't know if the fake travelers were still nearby. Veli handed him the plate, but did not let the rope leave his hands.

"We will follow your rules," says Zaelyra. "But we will not be questioned as if it was already proven that we are involved in this case."

"I'm not accusing you," Ressa replied. "I tell you that the road is closed."

"It's different."

"Yes."

The group was taken to a room adjacent to the basin. They could see the walkways, but not the western entrance. No guard locked them up. Two svirfneblins remained outside, close enough to be heard.

Tazri approached Senn. "You want your father to be alive?"

"Of course."

"What if he didn't make the plate?"

"Then I will look differently."

"What if it's him?"

Senn looked at the copper. "Then I want to know why he disappeared."

"Do you know what you'll do if you find him?"

"No."

Tazri nodded, as if this answer was familiar to him. She returned to the lamps.

Zaelyra asked Kethra to describe the broker who had approached Veyr, without trying to get her to say what she didn't know. Kethra remembered a gray coat, a stoneless ring and a voice that never rose. None of this allowed to recognize a person.

"Did he give you a name?"

"Not his. He said he was called the Watchman."

"Was that his real name?"

"No."

"Why did you believe it?"

"I didn't believe it. I pretended I didn't need to know."

Zaelyra did not insist. That evening, there was no additional truth to obtain.

When Ressa returned, she had with her the two guards who had accompanied Senn to the old post. They confirmed that they had found the copper in an overturned box, next to tools and plate fragments. The object was old. They didn't know if he had been moved recently.

"My father worked in copper," says Senn. "It's his brand."

"There are other artisans who used this punch," replied one of the guards. "We saw the same brand on coins and tools."

"Then why keep it?"

"Because it's yours," says Ressa. "Not because it proves something."

Senn put the piece away.

The caretaker announced that they could get back on the road the next day, under escort, provided they did not continue beyond the next door. The five missing travelers would be the subject of a local search. Zaelyra could leave a copy of the road to the post, but no information about the Salines or Mara's refuge.

"It will slow us down," said the merchant.

"Yes," Zaelyra replied.

"And this will not necessarily bring us closer to the west."

"No."

"Do you accept anyway?"

She looked at the families, the injured, Senn who was waiting for an answer that no plate could give her. "We can refuse and look for another passage. But we cannot claim that this group does not exist."

The merchant remained silent. He did not raise his hand to approve; he did not oppose it either.

For that night, the basin gave them measured water and dry soil. The amber light made the faces less hard. No one confuses this heat with safety.

In the morning, a bell rang on the footbridge, not by the wind this time, but under the hand of Ressa. A single note announced the departure.

The western door opened.

Behind, the path descended to a network of galleries, none of which appeared on the Veli plate.

Zaelyra returned the road piece to the guide. He attached it to the rope. They only took their own maps, incomplete and dated.

Then they crossed the basin of the Watchmen.