The drawer caught on wood before the lock mattered.
Varen pulled; a dry sound came from within. Long-closed boards had swollen with damp. Sera wondered if reluctance weakened his effort, then stopped. Even timber did not have to mean someone’s heart.
Morning after the closure notice. The two stones lay on separate sunny supports. Used two days ago, the first awaited its second sunny day. Yesterday’s second awaited its first. Neither was ready for another long voyage.
Tio brought no hammer. Finger wrapped, he inspected the side gap. A warped board meant finding where documents touched first. Sera shone light below; Varen looked inside.
The drawer’s floor sagged centrally. She abandoned levering it up. If paper adhered inside, it might tear before wood moved.
“A thin support,” Tio said. “Don’t push the documents.”
The neighbour with carpentry experience cut it while he explained grain direction. Resting his hand did not mean surrendering all his skill.
Varen waited seated. Unable to keep his right leg bent long, he accepted the footrest she placed nearby, then indicated a small side compartment. Only that could be opened first.
Old cord and observation sheets lay inside, with private envelopes. She asked what she might read. A closure deadline did not make his whole drawer public documentation.
“Joint observation records. Leave the envelopes.”
She withdrew only the permitted bundle. Older than salt, oil scented the paper. Dust edged pressed places; hands had long stayed away.
Seven points made a circle on the first sheet. Their symbols and positions matched public-chart lighthouses, but little names stood between. Neither islands nor qualified cartographers’ numbers: people responsible for observations at particular times.
Sera remembered attaching a page for Or. This writer too had added a narrow strip at the edge. It said next sandglass.
“Did all seven light together?”
“That sheet doesn’t say so.”
She corrected her question. Same date, different times. Neighbouring points watched the same marker in sequence and passed results onward. This was no picture of every tower pouring light simultaneously.
One small circle inside bore unconfirmed. Her nail followed the lettering before she withdrew her hand. They had not uncovered a long-hidden, perfect answer.
Asked why the joint network stopped, Varen did not answer immediately. He only said these records were incomplete. What he could place on this table was not everything the old network had known, and Sera could not make missing pages speak by rearranging those present. Originals for some observations remained on other islands; these were copies sent to him then.
It felt insufficient. Yet making him tell everything today was no precise prerequisite for a plan. She must first separate where records lay from what they could currently check.
She spread them in time order. Some days two observations agreed. Other days error required stopping. One sheet abandoned a lane for insufficient turning room, with three names left beside the decision.
Nume came in and read.
“Old captains wanted boats that went sideways too.”
Sera laughed. Notes beside that failed curve resembled her own. Braver people in the past had not possessed a less dangerous sea.
Edin brought notice and facility list. Sunset twenty days after the notice remained the deadline; one day had passed. An alternative proposal required more than claiming old records existed. Available observation points, people, stones, and operating limits needed present verification.
She started offering the seven-point sheet, then stopped halfway. Promise to restore everything, and the plan would look splendid against the deadline. Today’s resources were two stones, one boat, and hands and legs needing rest.
“Could we examine the nearest one first?”
He opened the list. Official number three: Najeon Lighthouse, on the western cape of Roan’s own large island. Supplies once came by sea, but a coastal path approached from behind.
Her hand reached toward the sailing chart, then stopped. Visiting another lighthouse need not begin with another voyage. With light lacking, checking an overland walk came first.
An old route did not prove present continuity. The official map had no recent passage confirmation. Nume relayed patrol sailors’ account yesterday of a collapsed embankment on the western cape. An embankment seen aboard and a land detour needed separate investigation.
Varen indicated the lower bundle: a copy of Najeon’s keeper’s overland handover sheet. Water points, low bridge, tides requiring turning back. The sheet had been written long ago. Even its useful directions belonged to an earlier journey, not one any of them had just completed.
Sera wrote needs current verification. Trustworthy old records could not make old boards bear present weight. They would check the path’s beginning and possible detours before departure.
Before noon, residents held a meeting about rooms, water, and grain for twenty people staying at Roan. Sera did not skip it for her investigation.
Miran asked whether the flotilla could supply a small bread oven and ingredients. No request for everything free: residents should agree on work and compensation. Edin said temporary protection costs would not be deducted from the same column as individual earnings.
Or sat with his wrapped tower records on his lap. He did not volunteer immediately for another lighthouse. Last night he had slept poorly. Sera stopped her hand from entering his name first.
Hern indicated a window seat. Sitting to watch the sea was possible; promising all-day surveillance was not. She had heard the same words yesterday. Urgency still made her treat names like long-burning stones. A person could offer a limited watch without becoming a permanent place on her chart. She had to hear that limit again today, when filling the role sheet felt suddenly more urgent than listening.
After the meeting, Nume returned to the boat. Ropes and sail used for Maru needed checking; regular coastal cargo schedules needed adjusting. Tomorrow morning’s coastal survey was possible, but their time could not remain vacant indefinitely.
She recorded it. On a captain’s walking day, a boat did not maintain itself. Expectations in an official notice could not pay investigation costs. The time she entered belonged to a working captain, with cargo already expected elsewhere, not to an empty space her new plan could occupy without consequence.
Afternoon opened the drawer’s main compartment. Supported beneath its sagging floor, it slid slowly. Sera used cloth to keep paper corners from catching between her fingers.
Inside lay lightstone condition drawings: cloudiness after use, sunny days received, replacement support numbers. One showed a straight white band. Unlike the stones’ usual cloudy ripples, she thought.
Whether it proved damage, she did not know. The artist’s rendering, perhaps; perhaps light reflected nearby. She marked it only for comparison with Najeon’s recent inventory. The straight edge was something to look for, not yet something she could explain. She kept the drawing beside its recorded condition instead of giving the unusual shape a cause.
Another sheet showed a lightly erased observer’s name. Too little remained to read. She reversed her pencil. Restoring it from a guess could put someone in the wrong place too.
“Who erased it?”
“It arrived like that,” Varen said. “I never saw the original.”
She kept his denial separate from why he had withheld the copy until now. Many blanks surrounded his responsibility. Opening a drawer did not end every silence. Her question about the erased letters remained beside the question of his own delay; an answer to one did not quietly answer the other.
Outside, a saltwing stretched to bite a pier rope. Tio shouted it away and pocketed his sore hand. Sera covered the paper briefly. Spending an entire day opening a drawer would leave tomorrow’s walkers unprepared.
She packed water, dry bread, and knee cloths. Edin confirmed entry permission and contact with the on-site custodian. A visit allowed neither breaking doors nor taking stones.
Custody lay with the western village. Its reply permitted an accompanied view of the exterior and authorized observation room. The lantern room stayed forbidden until its floor was checked. She narrowed the survey to that scope.
Checking shoe soles, she remembered her small shoes on first arriving at Roan. The larger boots borrowed at the Salt Steps remained in storage. Tomorrow mixed waterside path with dry climbing. She chose less slippery soles and packed spare socks.
Tio said his presence would help them examine wood. She looked at the finger; he added that he meant his eyes. But someone must explain Roan’s supports tomorrow. Rather than make staying a punishment, she asked which role he preferred.
After thought, he chose the supports. The western path could be visited again; the stones receiving sunlight today were here. She recorded his choice. Distance travelled need not measure someone’s usefulness.
Varen handed her the old land-route sheet, a stored copy, no original. She selected only what to copy for travel and returned the rest. Other names and private letters stayed unopened.
At sunset, she finished the charging chart. Yesterday’s second stone had received its first sunny day; the first, used the day before, its second. Same weather, different starting points, different completion times. She kept both records.
While they used the land route tomorrow, charging must continue at Roan. No plan existed to light an unfamiliar tower for a test. Today needed eyes finding places to stand more than brighter light.
Varen pushed the drawer back, stopping short of closing. Enough gap to prevent wood catching again. Old paper scented the opening.
At the door, Sera unfolded the last map. Halfway to Najeon stood a small bridge, close to the bearing of the collapsed embankment the sailors had described.
On paper, a bridge existed. Nobody had said they walked it today.
She moved tomorrow’s first destination from lighthouse to bridge approach. Before a third light, they needed ground where they could turn back.