The Copy Chamber

Korr slept for a whole day. When he woke up, he asked to see the list of numbers found in the depot. The council hesitated; the numbers could designate plates, payments or people.

"I don't want to read it," says Korr. "I want to know if the number four appears twice."

"Why the four?" asked Hara.

"The plate I wore at the depot had this number. The thieves asked for the four, not the others."

Velda unfolded the list. The number four appeared three times, each occurrence followed by a different little sign. The last addition was recent.

"What does that mean? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't know," Korr replied. "But plate four did not come from the depot. She belonged to the position of basalt. Someone brought it here to copy it."

He had not seen the person who had dropped her off. He had only heard an exchange behind the door, before the landslide.

"Does this connect the basalt post to the deposit?" asked Jhaer.

"This means that a plaque of the position was discussed here," Zaelyra replied. "We don't know who brought it."

"What if he was the emissary of the House?"

"We have no reason to say that."

Jhaer looked at her for a moment, then nodded.

Korr remembered that the two visitors had talked about a room where copies were kept. The word had been pronounced in common, but he was not sure he had heard it correctly. They could have said "field", "room" or "charter".

"Where would this room be?" asked Velda.

"I don't know."

Delli thought of an old workshop under the rails. Passage plates were once made there. He was convicted after a press injured a worker.

"If someone produces fake brands there, we need to know," says Hara.

"The room is unstable," replied Delli. "And the press is still in it."

The council didn't want to send an entire team. He authorized an inspection with two guards, Nym and Zaelyra. Kethra would not be included; no one explained to him why. She didn't ask.

The workshop was behind the rail room, in a low gallery where the heat of the forge no longer reached. The door was blocked by a metal bar. A channel was added recently.

Delli recognized the lock. She had worked there when she was a child, under the direction of her uncle.

"Do you know how to open it? Zaelyra asked.

"Yes."

"Do you want to do it?"

"No."

They did not insist. One of the guards removed the chain. The door opened effortlessly, revealing a room covered with dust. The press occupied the center. His metal arms were blocked in a downward position. A pile of blank plates rested near the wall, protected by a canvas.

"Is it still usable? Nym asked.

"If we replace the axis and purge the rust," replied Delli. "But no one has maintained it for years."

Under the press, they found a broken mold. His drawing was that of a spiral road, surrounded by three points. The shape resembled the false sign of the refuge, but did not correspond to any official mark.

Zaelyra drew the mold, without moving it. A trace of black wax had dried on the edge. There was no finger or tool left to identify him.

In a drawer, Nym discovered a list of metals needed to make plates. The quantities were too small for a large production, but sufficient for several copies.

"It could be the copy chamber," he says.

"Or an old abandoned workshop," replied Delli. "Everything is old there."

The guard checked the fingerprints. Some of the dust had been moved near the drawer; the rest appeared intact. The mark could date from the last inspection.

"When did it take place? Zaelyra asked.

"I don't remember," says Delli. "Last year, maybe."

"So we can't call it recent."

She noted the two possibilities. They photographed the mold with the cameras from the station, then closed the workshop without touching it. The council would decide whether to destroy it or keep it as proof.

Delli stayed in front of the door. "My uncle made plates here. They were used to replace those that travelers lost."

"Did he know the mold existed?"

"Yes. He designed it."

"Did he sell copies?"

"No. He died before the workshop closed."

"I wouldn't have accused him."

"But did you write it in your notebook?"

"I wrote that the mold was old and that you recognized the drawing. I didn't write his name."

Delli seemed relieved, then upset to be. "You could add it. He made the mold. It's a fact."

Zaelyra added it, with the dates she knew. The history of the workshop should not be confused with that of the false passages.

Back at the Vault, the council decided to seal the press and keep the mold under surveillance. The depot would be reopened after repair, but no new plates would be produced without two witnesses from different communities.

"This will slow down the replacements," objected a merchant.

"Yes," says Hara.

"What if travelers lose their license plate?"

"They can still ask to pass."

"Do you trust their word?"

"No. We check it."

The merchant shook his head, but finally accepted. He himself had lost a plaque during a trip, and a former guard had to confirm his identity.

The council authorized Zaelyra to copy the Western stage map, but not the internal postcodes. He also authorized him to issue a warning about false passes, without naming a person responsible.

Kethra proposed to write the text. The council hesitated, then gave him this task on the condition that two inhabitants reread each line. She accepted.

The warning would be in four sentences: a plate alone does not open a road; a mark can be copied; each stop must confirm its own passage; no traveler should be forced to reveal the names of his companions.

Kethra reread the last sentence several times. She didn't change it.

When the text was validated, the Vault engraved it on clay plates intended for neighboring shelters. The copies would not bear any House symbol, no missing name and no indication to the Salines.

Zaelyra observed the first dry plate near the forge. She did not know if the warning would prevent a new fraud. It could at least make it more difficult to pretend that travelers had not been warned.

In the evening, Delli brought her a small piece of copper that she had found in the workshop. An angle was engraved on the reverse, identical to Ilda's fragment.

"It's the same brand," she says.

"The same hand?"

"Maybe."

"Or the same tool."

Delli smiles. "You learned not to conclude too quickly."

"I'm trying."

"Then write down the two possibilities."

Zaelyra did it. She had still not identified the Watchman, nor found the five travelers, nor received a response from Vhaelyn. But, for the first time, several communities were going to share a common warning without handing over their maps or names.

The road did not belong to them.

However, she was beginning to answer them.