Back in the records room, Anvar stares at the books spread out across the table in front of him. "It's not there." He straightens up and looks at the laden shelves. "Nothing. Nothing at all." He runs a hand down the open page of the book closest to him. It lists records from two months of the year 1469, covering such mundane occurrences as regular patrols with nothing to report, deliveries of rations, and squabbles between the troops and the scholar mages over misplaced book. Anvar sighs, acknowledging the unwelcome conclusion. "So he was telling the truth."