Chapter 122

The name on the card remained in the traveler's thoughts long after the foundation collection closed.

EDRIN VALE.

Beneath it, the message claimed that Edrin had not stopped the communication but had asked why it had been stopped.

The reverse carried a different warning.

BEFORE YOU ASK EDRIN WHAT THEY KNOW, FIND OUT WHO TAUGHT THEM TO KEEP SILENT.

The traveler read it again in the quiet of the corridor.

The figure stood nearby, their hands tucked into their sleeves.

“Do you believe the message?” they asked.

“I believe someone wanted us to read it.”

“That isn't the same thing.”

“No. It isn't.”

The figure looked at the name.

“Edrin Vale was listed among the officials who served in the review office. If they questioned the missing explanation, perhaps they were trying to help.”

“Perhaps,” the traveler replied. “But the card doesn't establish when Edrin asked the question, what they knew, or whether they were involved in the disputed decision.”

“And the other sentence says someone taught them to keep silent.”

“It claims that. We need to discover whether it is true.”

The figure exhaled slowly.

“Then we ask Edrin.”

“We can try to contact them. But the warning raises another question. If someone taught Edrin to remain silent, we should be careful not to assume that Edrin's silence means guilt.”

The figure considered this.

“Someone might have been protecting them.”

“Or threatening them. Or advising them not to speak about something they didn't understand. We don't know.”

“Or the person who wrote this could be trying to make us suspicious of Edrin.”

“Yes.”

The figure gave a tired smile.

“You have a way of making every answer become three questions.”

“I would rather ask three questions than accuse the wrong person.”

They returned to the notice board.

The card had been placed behind the frame, out of sight from the main corridor. Whoever had left it had known where the traveler would look. That suggested familiarity with the investigation, but it did not identify the writer.

The traveler slipped the card into a protective paper sleeve provided by the Archivist.

“We should show this to them,” the traveler said.

The figure nodded.

“Then let's go.”

The Archivist read the card twice.

“Edrin Vale,” they murmured. “I haven't seen that name in years.”

“Do you know where they are?” the traveler asked.

“I know where they worked. I cannot tell you whether they still live there.”

“Can you help us find out?”

“I can check the surviving staff records and see whether there is a current contact route. I will not give you someone's private details without permission.”

The figure nodded.

“We don't want to intrude. We want to ask about the communication and the disputed decision.”

“That distinction matters,” the Archivist said. “But Edrin may not wish to speak. If they refuse, you must respect that.”

“We will,” the traveler replied.

The Archivist searched the staff index and found a reference to an office on the eastern side of the foundation. It was marked as a former review room, no longer used for routine administration.

“Edrin's appointment ended before the last revision of the records system,” the Archivist explained. “There is no current address listed, but the office retained correspondence for former officials who requested that their professional records remain accessible.”

“Could Edrin still receive messages there?” the figure asked.

“Possibly. We can leave a request for contact without disclosing any private information.”

The figure seemed eager to go immediately.

The Archivist noticed.

“Before you leave, I want to make something clear. The note says someone taught Edrin to keep silent. That phrase could mean many things. It might refer to an instruction from a superior, a promise of confidentiality, a personal choice, or something more troubling. Do not decide which one it means before you speak with Edrin.”

The figure lowered their eyes.

“I won't.”

The traveler added, “And we won't ask Edrin to confirm a story we've already decided is true.”

“Good,” the Archivist said.

They wrote a brief request for contact, explaining that the traveler and the figure wished to ask about a historical communication and the procedures surrounding a disputed decision. They did not include the figure's private name or speculate about their identity.

The Archivist sealed the request.

“Now we wait for a response.”

The figure looked toward the door.

“Waiting is becoming the hardest part.”

“Waiting without knowing whether anything is happening,” the traveler said, “can feel like being trapped. But we have taken the next step. We do not need to force the next one to happen before anyone is ready.”

The figure nodded.

They left the collection together.

The former review room was smaller than the traveler expected.

Its door stood at the end of a narrow passage, beyond a row of empty offices. A brass plate remained above the handle, though the lettering had worn away.

The Archivist had instructed them not to enter without permission. Instead, the traveler placed the sealed request in the correspondence slot.

The figure watched the envelope disappear.

“What if no one answers?” they asked.

“Then we look for another way to investigate the records.”

“What if Edrin answers but refuses to tell us anything?”

“Then we respect that choice and ask whether there is evidence we can examine without their participation.”

The figure was silent for a while.

“What if Edrin knows who I am?”

“That is possible.”

“What if they recognize me and refuse to speak because of what I did?”

The traveler turned toward them.

“Then we will still not know what you did. Their refusal would be a choice they made, not proof of an accusation.”

The figure nodded, though the worry did not leave their face.

They waited in the corridor for several minutes, then returned to the main hall.

As they reached the stairs, a quiet voice called from behind them.

“Did you leave a message for Edrin Vale?”

They turned.

A woman stood beside the office doorway. She carried a stack of folders against her chest, and her expression suggested that she had been considering whether to speak to them.

“Yes,” the traveler said. “Do you know Edrin?”

“I knew them when I worked in this building.”

“Are they still here?”

“No.”

The figure's shoulders fell.

The woman continued, “But I may be able to help you understand why that message might be difficult for them to answer.”

The traveler did not move closer.

“May we ask your name?”

“Liora.”

“Would you be willing to tell us what you know?”

Liora glanced down the corridor.

“Not here.”

The figure looked uneasy.

“Why not?”

“Because I don't know who has been reading the old correspondence, and I don't want to discuss something I cannot substantiate in a public passage.”

The traveler nodded.

“Would you prefer to speak with the Archivist present?”

Liora seemed relieved by the suggestion.

“Yes. I would.”

They returned to the collection room and asked the Archivist to join them. When Liora entered, she placed her folders on the table but kept her hands resting on top of them.

“I should begin by saying that I don't know who wrote the card,” she said. “I also cannot confirm that Edrin was taught to keep silent. I know only what I witnessed and what Edrin told me directly.”

“That is enough,” the traveler replied. “Please tell us what you remember.”

Liora drew out a chair.

“Edrin was responsible for reviewing procedural objections. They were meticulous about records. If a document lacked a signature or a required confirmation, Edrin would usually refuse to mark the matter complete.”

The figure leaned forward.

“Would Edrin have known about the missing confirmation in our case?”

“If they saw the relevant register, yes. But I don't know whether they saw it.”

“Did they ever mention a disputed decision involving a missing explanation?”

Liora looked at the figure.

“They mentioned a case in which a person had been expected to choose before receiving a full account of the consequences. Edrin believed the process was wrong.”

The figure's hands tightened around the edge of the chair.

“Did Edrin say who the person was?”

“No. They did not give me a name.”

“Did they say what the decision concerned?”

“No.”

The traveler asked, “Did Edrin try to stop the decision?”

Liora took a moment before answering.

“They told me they had asked for the discussion to be delayed until the explanation was given. They said the request had not been accepted.”

The figure stared at her.

“Who refused it?”

“I don't know. Edrin did not tell me.”

“Did they say why?”

“They said they were told the matter had already been reviewed and that further delay would create complications.”

The traveler exchanged a glance with the Archivist.

That account resembled the documents they had found, but resemblance alone did not establish that Liora was speaking about the same case.

“Did Edrin show you a copy of the order?” the traveler asked.

“No.”

“Did you see the disputed record yourself?”

“No. I only saw Edrin's notes about procedural concerns.”

The figure lowered their head.

“So Edrin knew something was wrong, but couldn't stop it.”

Liora shook her head gently.

“That is not quite what I said. Edrin believed the process was wrong. I don't know what authority they had in that particular matter, and I don't know what happened after their request was refused.”

The figure looked up.

“Then what happened to Edrin?”

Liora's expression changed.

“They stopped discussing the case.”

“Because someone threatened them?”

“I don't know.”

“Because they were told to remain silent?”

“I don't know that either.”

The figure's frustration returned.

“Then why did you say you could help us understand the message?”

“Because I can tell you what I witnessed,” Liora replied, her voice steady but not unkind. “I watched Edrin become careful about what they said in meetings. They began asking whether every discussion was officially recorded. They stopped making assumptions about what other officials knew.”

She paused.

“Once, I asked why they had become so cautious. Edrin told me that speaking up and being heard were not the same thing. They said they had learned that a correct objection could still be ignored.”

The traveler let the words settle.

“That doesn't establish that anyone taught Edrin to keep silent,” they said. “But it may explain why Edrin chose to speak less.”

“Yes,” Liora replied. “That is the distinction I wanted to make.”

The figure looked at the table.

“Did Edrin ever regret remaining silent?”

Liora thought for a long time.

“They regretted not being able to establish what happened. I don't know whether they regretted anything else.”

The figure nodded slowly.

“Thank you for being honest.”

Liora gave a small nod in return.

“I don't want you to build a new accusation out of what I remember. Edrin had reasons for being careful. Some may have been personal. Some may have been professional. I cannot tell you which.”

The traveler asked one final question.

“Do you know how we might contact Edrin?”

“I don't have a current address. But Edrin used to visit the public reading room every few weeks. They preferred to examine documents themselves rather than rely on someone else's summary.”

“Do you know when they might return?”

“No. But if you leave a message through the Archivist, it may reach them.”

The traveler thanked her.

Liora gathered her folders and left the room.

For several minutes, no one spoke.

The figure finally said, “Edrin tried to delay the discussion.”

“According to Liora's recollection, yes,” the Archivist replied.

“And someone refused.”

“According to her account, Edrin's request was refused. We still need evidence connecting that recollection to the documents we found.”

The figure nodded.

“I know. But if it was the same case, then Edrin was not the person who stopped the message.”

“We cannot conclude that yet,” the traveler said. “Edrin may have objected to the meeting while having some other role in the communication. We need to establish the sequence of events.”

The figure looked tired.

“Even the person who tried to help might have made a mistake.”

“Yes,” the traveler said. “Trying to do the right thing doesn't make someone incapable of being wrong. But a mistake is not the same as deliberate harm, and we should not confuse them.”

The figure sat back.

“I think I am beginning to understand why you keep asking what we know for certain.”

“Because certainty can be comforting,” the traveler replied, “but it can also hide the questions we still need to ask.”

That evening, the Archivist received a reply to the request for contact.

The envelope was unmarked except for the foundation's delivery stamp. Inside lay a single sheet of paper.

The Archivist read it privately first, then asked the traveler and the figure whether they wanted to hear its contents.

They agreed.

The Archivist read aloud:

I received your request concerning the historical communication and the disputed decision.

I am willing to speak about the procedure I reviewed. I will not identify the person whose name appeared in the original record without their permission, and I will not provide information entrusted to me in confidence.

If you wish to meet, come to the public reading room tomorrow before the afternoon session. Bring the public copies of the procedural documents. Do not bring the restricted ledger.

There was no signature.

But at the bottom of the page was a short handwritten addition.

I did not teach anyone to remain silent. I taught someone to ask what silence was protecting.

The figure read the sentence again.

“Is that Edrin's handwriting?” they asked.

The Archivist examined it.

“I cannot confirm that from this page alone.”

The traveler studied the wording.

“It could be a response to the message on the card. Or someone else could have written it.”

“Either way,” the figure said, “we have an invitation to meet.”

“Yes,” the traveler replied. “And clear boundaries about what Edrin is willing to discuss.”

The figure nodded.

“We should respect them.”

The traveler folded the reply carefully and returned it to the envelope.

“Tomorrow, we ask about the procedure. We don't demand the private name, and we don't assume Edrin knows the entire story.”

The figure looked toward the darkening corridor.

“What if Edrin knows who I am but still won't tell me?”

“Then we will have to decide what other evidence can answer your questions.”

The figure was quiet for a moment.

“I think I can accept that.”

They left the Archivist's room and walked toward the courtyard.

At the entrance, the traveler noticed another card tucked beneath the edge of the notice board.

They did not pull it free immediately.

Instead, they called the Archivist over.

Together, they examined the card before removing it.

The message was brief.

EDRIN DID NOT TEACH THE WITNESS TO BE SILENT. THE WITNESS ASKED FOR SILENCE FIRST.

The figure went still.

“Who was the witness?” they whispered.

The traveler looked at the card.

“We don't know.”

“Was the witness afraid?”

“We don't know.”

“Did they ask for silence because they wanted to protect someone?”

“Possibly.”

The figure swallowed.

“Or because they didn't want anyone to know what they had done.”

“Possibly,” the traveler agreed. “We cannot choose between those explanations yet.”

The figure closed their eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

“Tomorrow, we speak to Edrin.”

“Yes.”

“And we ask what they know about the witness.”

“If they are willing to discuss it.”

The figure nodded.

For once, they did not demand an answer before the next step had been taken.

They walked away from the notice board together, leaving the card with the Archivist for safekeeping.

Behind them, the corridor grew quiet.

Someone had claimed that Edrin taught another person to remain silent.

Edrin's own reply suggested something different: that the witness had requested silence first.

Neither statement had been verified.

But tomorrow, the traveler would finally meet someone who had reviewed the procedure surrounding the disputed decision.

And perhaps the most important question would not be who had ordered the silence.

It would be this:

What had the witness been afraid would happen if they spoke?