The Vault of the Forges

The guards led them to a dark metal door. Unlike the Salines doors, this one had neither a lock nor a window. A wheel in the center commanded several bars, and traces of recent oil marked the hinges.

"Before entering," says the first figure, "you must leave Ysil's plate and announce what you are carrying."

Zaelyra put the plate on a shelf, then named the weapons, food and maps. She didn't mention Vhaelyn's ticket. He was neither a weapon nor a map, but she kept him on her.

The guard asked her if she was wearing a House mark.

"Yes."

"You will show it to the council. Not to other travelers."

"Why?"

"Because some have debts to the Houses. Others flee them. We don't want one to discover the other's way by reading a loop."

The rule seemed reasonable to them. The guard did not require her to remove her badge; he offered her a cloth case to cover it in the common areas.

The door opened onto a set of rooms heated by a central forge. Chimneys led the smoke to a high crack. Hammers resounded on several levels, accompanied by conversations and laughter. The metal gave the cave a golden glow that softened the shadows.

Children carried small shugs, supervised by an apprentice forge. An old man was repairing lamps near a basin of water. Merchants slept on benches with their boots on their feet. Nothing looked like a refuge waiting for heroes. It was a busy community not to miss the next meal.

The guardian was called Orsa. She had the group installed in an outdoor room, separated from the workshop by a corridor. They were allowed to stay there for one night, then submit their application to the Council of the Vault.

"We received a notice about the Drow House," she says. "He comes from the basalt post."

"What was he saying? Zaelyra asked.

"That your group travels under a summons. He didn't ask to be arrested."

"The messenger wanted me back."

"Then he should have written this."

"He may have done it."

Orsa did not comment. She had the arrival of the group recorded and invited everyone to declare if they needed care. The injured man's sister examined his leg and recommended a day of rest. He wanted to refuse, but the porters did not object. He ends up accepting.

Hara Denvin joined them the next day. She had sent a message through a chain of plates and wanted to know if their crossing of the Trench had gone well.

"We had to reinforce a rope," says Zaelyra. "The pillar has moved."

Hara noticed the change. "I'll ask Dorn to go and see. He will not resume the repair until he has a second worker."

"Can't you ask him to go alone?"

"I can. I won't do it."

She examined Zaelyra's survey, corrected the height of a room and added a date to the passage of natural light. She refused to have the note on the spider mark copied into the public register.

"Why? Zaelyra asked.

"Because the symbol has been used by several groups and some associate it with stories that are not ours. If you want to record what you have seen, keep it in your notes with the origin."

"Do you think about Drizzt's story?"

"I think of people who come for a sign before they even know what it means."

Hara had never seen Drizzt. She had heard the story of her passage through a caravan that said she met a wandering drow, long after her departure from Menzoberranzan. The story gave no name or proof. Someone had then added Drizzt's name in the margin.

"Some claim that he crossed the Trench," she says. "Others that it was another drow. The map is older than the note."

Zaelyra opened her notebook to the page concerned. The mention was written with another hand, without a specific date. She drew a separation between the old statement and the recent addition.

"I won't erase the name," she says. "But I won't make it a fact."

"That's all I ask."

In the evening, travelers were invited to the common table. The seats were not assigned. The inhabitants ate first, then served those who were waiting. No one gave a speech on equality; newcomers were simply asked to leave a place for the person who would arrive later.

Tazri shared his bread with an apprentice who had lost two fingers. He asked her if she had seen the surface.

"No."

"My sister says she's blue."

"Sometimes," replied Zaelyra. And other times, it is gray or white."

"So how do we know we've arrived?"

"We know it when the day does not come from a stone."

The apprentice considered the question seriously. He says he wanted to see the sky, but not leave the Vault. Tazri did not answer him that he should leave one day. They talked instead about lamps and how to make them less heavy.

After the meal, Orsa called Zaelyra, Nym and Rhylor. The council agreed to hear them the next day. He had also learned that fake plates circulated even in their galleries.

"If someone uses our brands to make travelers pay, we want to know who," says Orsa. "But we don't intend to follow you on a hunt."

"We don't ask you," Zaelyra replied.

"You may ask if the hunter becomes the prey."

"Then you can refuse."

Orsa seemed to appreciate the answer, without trusting them.

At night, Zaelyra spread the maps and road newspapers. The light of the forge made the ink more readable than in the Salines. She compared the false signs, the inscriptions of the Trench and the measurements of the Vault. The marks had been copied by several hands. No punch made it possible to identify a single origin.

She didn't have a road.

She had testimonies, mistakes and communities who agreed to correct their own traces.

It was less than a complete map.

Maybe it was more than an order.