Chapter 15 — The Last Seed Keeper

"We don't have a professional escort in the Green Dome," Bien Ba Uy said, during a private meeting with Khe Mien and a few key members of the Council to discuss preparations for the caravan. "It's been thirty years since we last sent a party further than the usual range around the Arch. Our Edge Patrol is trained to protect the area near the Filth, not to lead the way across hundreds of miles of Ash Field."

"So what will we do?" Khe Mien asked, even though in her heart she had already partly predicted the answer.

"We will hire an independent escort," Bien Ba Uy replied. "There are travelers who live outside the Arches, or travel regularly between them, making a living escorting trade caravans, carrying news, sometimes even guiding evacuees. They belong to no particular Arch, but they understand the Ashes better than any of us could."

"Have Green Dome ever worked with someone like that before?"

"A few times, in the past, for small trade trips with Sand Dome." Bien Ba Uy flipped through a thin file on the table. “But this time, given the scale and importance of the trip, I had my contact look for a specific name — someone with the most trustworthy reputation we could find.”

Another member of the Council, who was in charge of radio communications between the Arches, spoke up. "The name most mentioned in commercial communications is Dinh Bach Lam. He is said to have crossed Dong Tro more times than any other living traveler we know of—successfully escorting no less than twenty different convoys across various routes between the Arches, in nearly ten years of practice."

Khe Mien heard that name for the first time, and there was something about the way the contact spoke about him—admiration mixed with a bit of reserve—that made her more curious than reassured.

"What kind of reputation does he have? Besides being successful many times?"

The contact person hesitated a bit before answering. "There are many different stories about him, some perhaps over-embellished in the process of word-of-mouth among trade caravans. It is said he once survived a three-day poisonous sandstorm alone without adequate shelter, relying only on his experience reading the terrain to find a safe enough ravine. It is also said he once escorted a large caravan through territory near the Salt Dome — a place reputedly controlled by a harsh warlord who controlled the routes — without any collisions, something very few other travelers can do."

"Sounds like a good choice," commented Bien Ba Uy.

"Well, in terms of capabilities, yes," the contact continued, his voice more careful. "But there are also rumors that a few years ago, he lost another caravan — not due to personal error, according to the story, but due to an unforeseen event in the Ashes. Since then, some say he has become much more rigorous in his work, almost obsessive in preparing to the smallest detail, and does not easily trust undisciplined caravans."

Khe Mien was silent, considering that information. Someone who had once lost a caravan was now obsessed with careful preparations—she wasn't sure whether to take it as a worrying sign or an assurance that he wouldn't let the same thing happen again.

"Have we contacted him yet?" she asked.

"Yes. He is escorting a small trade convoy near the area between Green Dome and Sand Dome, and has agreed to stop by Green Dome to discuss this mission in person after completing his current business. He is expected to arrive in about five to seven days."

"Is it true that every passing trade delegation mentions him?" Khe Mien asked further, unable to hide her growing curiosity.

"Almost," the contact replied, smiling slightly at Khe Mien's rare eagerness in a meeting that was always serious. "There's a story I heard from a merchant delegation that visited last year—perhaps embellished through many retellings, but still worth mentioning. They said that one time, their group was caught in the middle of a sudden sandstorm more than a day's journey from the nearest shelter. Dinh Bach Lam, instead of trying to outrun the storm as his common instincts told him, ordered the group to dig a hole on the spot, cover it with anti-poison tarpaulin, and wait for eighteen hours straight. in the cramped underground space, relying only on their judgment of wind direction and experience reading the sky before the storm arrived."

"Sounds more like a legend than a fact," Bien Ba Uy commented, but his tone was not sarcastic.

"Perhaps so," the contact admitted. "But no matter how much of the story is true, what is certain is that the name Dinh Bach Lam is mentioned with a respect that few other travelers have. That is not an easy thing to achieve in a world where most of those who dare to step out into Dong Tro regularly do not live long enough to build a reputation."

The meeting continued to discuss other aspects of preparation — the list of supplies, the proposed route, the size of the caravan — but Khe Mien's mind still lingered on the name that had just been mentioned. Dinh Bach Lam. A name she had never heard before, but which she now knew, would become an important part of the coming months, possibly the rest of her life, if this journey was successful and opened up to others in the future.

On the way out of the Council Hall, Khe Mien happened to meet Ve Diem Quynh waiting in the hallway, holding a technical file in her hand.

"I heard that the Council has found an escort," Diem Quynh said, her eyes shining with curiosity. "Ms. Khe Mien, I want to ask to join the group."

Khe Mien looked at the young technician, only a few years older than herself, who had been with her during the early days of investigating Root Rot Disease. "You understand this is a dangerous journey, right? Not a normal equipment inspection."

"I understand," Diem Quynh replied, her voice not wavering. "But I also understand that if we find a replacement part for the filter core, we will need someone who knows how to install and test it on site, before bringing it back to Green Dome. I am the best person for that, other than engineer Khoat himself — and my father cannot leave the Respiratory Station right now."

That argument is so solid that Khe Mien cannot refute it. "You're right. I will suggest your name to the Council."

Diem Quynh smiled, a smile mixed with excitement and a bit of worry that she didn't completely hide, then hurriedly returned to work, leaving Khe Mien standing there alone, feeling more clearly than ever that this caravan would not just be her own journey, but the journey of those brave enough to follow her into a future that no one in the Green Dome had dared to fully imagine.

That evening, when recounting the meeting to his father, Vu Dinh Khoat appeared more cautious than reassured.

"A stranger, who belongs to no Arch, will lead you through the most dangerous land you have ever known," he said, his voice still laced with worry from their conversation a few days ago. "I'm not saying you shouldn't trust him. But be careful, Khe Mien. Reputations are sometimes built from stories that are told so many times that they are no longer accurate to the truth."

"I'll be careful," Khe Mien promised. "But dad, I think if someone has survived that kind of dangerous journey, there must be a good reason — not just luck."

"Perhaps so," her father replied, though his voice was still not entirely convincing. "I just hope you remember that people who survive many dangers are not necessarily people who easily trust others, or easily let others trust them. Sometimes, because they have lost too much, people build a wall around themselves to not have to lose again."

That sentence stayed in Khe Mien's mind longer than she thought, as she lay in bed that night, looking up at the ceiling, thinking about a man she had never met but was about to become an indispensable part of the most important journey of her life. She thought of the lines in the red-marked box, of her father's face when he made the promise of always choosing to return, of the story of a lost caravan that the contact had only mentioned in passing.

She wondered if Dinh Bach Lam, when assigned to escort a young Grain Keeper and a group of people who had never set foot outside the Green Dome, saw in them a reminder of what he had lost, or simply another job in the long series of jobs he had done to survive in the Ashes.

That night, writing in her notebook, Khe Mien wrote down the new name, along with a brief line of thoughts whose meaning she would only fully understand months later, when she had gone far enough to look back:

*Dinh Bach Lam. He will lead us through a land I have only seen through a glass. I hope he understands the value of what we carry, not just its weight.*