Delu Tann arrived at First Vent on day 1117 with a wrapped resonator, a sore opinion of the road and two questions she wanted answered before anybody showed her the old marks.
“Who uses the room now?” she asked.
Neri named the station crew and the carpenters still closing the outer roof seam.
“And who decided we could examine the recess?”
“The local keeper. The old record stays here unless its owners make another choice. We’re asking you to look, not to take it.”
Delu nodded.
Korin stood beside her with their overnight bag. Uda had brought them seven river kilometers from the basin to the Gate under an accepted weather window. A hired cart had carried the older interpreter and her equipment up the six-kilometer station road. They would stay in the workers’ lodging and return after tomorrow’s visit if the river allowed it. Interesting marks had not made her younger or put First Vent next to her shelter.
Pera offered tea before interpretation.
