Permission to Travel

The western survey party consisted of one official observer, one apprentice copyist, a hired local guide and a mule that had already decided the arrangement was beneath it.

Cal stood in the posting yard reading the travel warrant. Ada watched his face as he reached the line restricting their movement to the assigned corridor.

“Do you get one of those too?” she asked.

“Mine's longer.”

He handed it over.

The warrant named the gates he could use, the inns where his presence would be recorded and the date by which he must return. Any alteration required approval from the Hall or a provincial authority whose seal the Hall recognised.

Ada looked at him.

“You can't just go home.”

“No.”

She returned the paper more carefully than she had taken it.

Their guide arrived carrying a coil of rope and a bag patched with sailcloth.

Pella stopped when she saw Cal.

“Oh,” she said. “The gate-opener.”

Cal inclined his head. “The washing revolutionary.”

“Depends who's asking.”

Neris had hired her through the river carriers' office, where Pella was registered for delivery work and knew the western paths from years of carrying things other people preferred not to carry themselves. She had been paid an advance and given a clear route. She looked at the official warrant with an expression that suggested the route might not survive contact with the ground.

“Who wrote this?” she asked.

“The survey office,” Cal said.

“Has anyone there seen the western bank since the spring slide?”

“That's one of the things we're meant to verify.”

“Excellent. A discovery expedition to a problem people have reported for months.”

Ada liked her immediately and suspected that would not make Pella easier to travel with.

Hald came down before they left. He checked the sealed case containing the small jar of live ink, the blank correction sheets and the witness forms. Cal signed for it. Ada signed as assistant. Pella declined to sign for materials she had not been asked to use.

“Reasonable,” Hald said, though he did not sound pleased.

He turned to Ada.

“Your task is to record the condition of the anchors and reconcile the descriptions. You are not authorised to make political assessments.”

“Are population figures political?”

“They become so when used carelessly.”

“And when they're wrong?”

“Then correct them with evidence.”

She held his gaze. He knew about Ysra. He knew where she had been taken. He waited to see whether Ada would say her name.

Ada did not give him that conversation in the posting yard.

Neris stood by the side gate. As Ada passed, she handed her a packet of ordinary paper.

“For field notes.”

Inside the top sheet, beneath a blank page, was a short list of archive references. Ada felt the extra thickness but did not look down.

“Thank you.”

Neris nodded once.

They left through the western gate beneath a sky the colour of unpolished tin. Cal rode a hired horse for the first mile, then dismounted when Pella pointed out that the bank path ahead would be easier with everyone on foot. He did not argue. He led the horse while Ada took the mule's rope.

Outside the city, the road divided. The official survey route followed a bound carriageway towards the old ferry posts. A narrower path ran along the river, half hidden by reeds and the backs of warehouses.

Pella stopped at the junction.

“The carriageway marker's been changed,” she said.

Cal checked the warrant. “It should carry a light fold.”

“It did yesterday.”

Ada looked at the black stone beside the road. The surface shone wetly despite the dry morning.

“Fresh ink,” she said.

A grain cart ahead of them crossed the marker. Its wheels turned. The horse took six steps, then stopped with its forelegs braced. The driver shouted. The cart seemed to move farther away and remain in exactly the same place.

Pella took the mule's rope from Ada.

“Don't follow him.”

Cal was already moving towards the driver.

Ada felt the pressure in her teeth.

Behind them, Orison's gates stood open, receiving the benefits of a road that had begun to fail in somebody else's direction.