Dream d2597-s: Ink Newer Than the Stones

I had a dream where...

I had a dream where the table in the Eldergate office was covered in lines, every one of them recent, the ink not yet faded to grey. I sat with the ledger open and Lano settled at my feet, her chin on the floor, watching the room with one eye. The window behind me held the night of the fifth day, and I had been here long enough to know where the draughts came in.

The column from the last phase was a narrow one, four characters wide, room enough for a single word: neither running nor gone. I ruled it into the remaining rows by hand, fifty-eight rows, one for each place not yet walked in this count. The seven already settled I left on the settled pages, which I did not open.

I began at the top of the new sheet. The Ruins of Frosting: not in good order. The cell for neither running nor gone was empty. There was no ambiguity here, only damage and cold. I wrote into the correct column and moved the pen to the next line.

Lano's nose twitched. She did not lift her head.

The Ruins of Mossness, the Ruins of Zephyrden: the same. Not in good order, cold, ruins. I wrote each one and did not linger. The pen moved across the page without hurry and the ink dried before I reached the next row.

The Ruins of Mistthwaite: cold, ruin, left in good order. I wrote a note in the margin because the column had no room for what I knew about it: the largest pile of unanswered letters in the world sits inside it. No explanation. It is there. I have not been there.

I worked down the page. The lit cities came in a cluster near the middle, Emberford, Frostridge, Osierlow, Willowholt, Willowhythe. Each was running. Each had been left in good order as far as the records said. The new column was empty in each of their rows. I wrote nothing in it and moved on.

Lano stood up briefly, turned once, and lay back down closer to my chair. I heard her exhale.

The town of unfinished roads was the address I was sitting in. I found its row and looked at it for a moment. The roads are not finished. The office is occupied. I filled the columns honestly and wrote no comment. The table held a hundred lines. I had drawn the last of them this afternoon, which is why the ink was still sharp and the intent was still clear, newer than any of the work those lines described.

Outside the window, Eldergate Town was quiet in the way that places with unfinished roads are quiet at night. The streets end where they end, and no one tries to walk past the end at this hour.

I closed the ledger when I reached the bottom of the fifty-eight rows. The work for the night was done and there was nothing to add. Lano was already asleep, her side moving slowly. I left the pen on the table and sat in the chair for a while longer, not writing anything.

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