Page 221 of Salt Between the Wolves

"Not many."

Eira frowned.

"What happened to the rest?"

For the first time since they met, the older woman's expression lost some of its amusement.

"That depends on who is telling the story."

The answer immediately captured Eira's attention. Slowly, Ilva removed one of the scrolls and carried it toward a nearby table.

"You grew up in Frostvein."

It was not a question.

"Yes."

"Then you already know the official version."

Eira hesitated. The phrase itself felt strange, as though there could be more than one version of the truth.

Ilva carefully unrolled the document.

"The North suffered several archive fires."

Eira nodded. Everyone knew that explanation because it had been repeated for years. The losses were always attributed to accidents, time, weather, and misfortune, and they had long been presented as unfortunate necessities.

Ilva looked up.

"And do you believe that?"

The question arrived so calmly that it took Eira a moment to answer.

"I never questioned it."

"Most people don't."

The older woman smoothed the parchment.

"That is generally the point."

Silence settled between them while distant gulls cried above the harbor beyond the windows, their voices seeming very far away.

"When I was younger," Ilva continued, "I spent several years helping catalog records from across the northern territories."

The statement surprised Eira.

"You traveled to Frostvein?"

"Twice."

A faint smile appeared on Ilva's face.

"I wasn't especially welcome."

For some reason, that was not difficult to imagine.

The smile faded.