There comes a series of these, run from one end of town to the other, by small, clever Felix, whose mother is employed in the bakery of one Altias Bromn. They are all very brief, sketched in charcoal upon various mismatched slips of paper, and read as follows:
[INDENT]Governor Coriolanus Helstone,
I return as soon as I am able.
Ariane Emory.
M'Ser Syl Duquesne,
I return as soon as I am able.
Ariane Emory.[/INDENT]
Surely a woman upon her sickbed might be forgiven a slightly ... repetitious nature. The Governor's message is delivered to his home, for the Meetinghouse yet lingers in a state of disrepair; Duquesne's to the tavern, as 'Aithne' is a word, but not a destination, to the one who'd directed Felix on his deliveries.
[INDENT]My sister Quincy,
I am well, Altias has taken care of me. Come see me when you can.
Ariane Emory.[/INDENT]
This one for the tavern as well, and one could be forgiven for reckoning its composition superior to that of the others; could be lauded for guessing that poorly-literate Ariane had not been its author. But there are no mistakes to be made about the last of the small group, for it is as blunt as its writer, as perfectly precise. As bleak.
[INDENT]Coran D'zir,
When is the day?
Ariane[/INDENT]