The allochthene scholar leads the way to a room packed with bookshelves, with tables in the middle. At either end, doorways lead to more rooms, although the doorways are rather alarmingly scaffolded with wooden shafts of dubious provenance. "The main records are here," she says, "but there are more through those doorways," and she waves a hand at the nearest one. "They are safe, by the way." "Thank you," Anvar says cautiously. "No obligation remains," she says, and leaves. He looks after her for a moment, but it sounds like she meant it. He drops his bag on the floor by the nearest table and steps forward to the bookshelf. "Time to find the truth. Or the lie."