To Elia, daughter of Innis Lear,

I can no longer sit by, knowing what I have done. I have planted a canker in the heart of your island, and having heard from him a final word I must

To Elia, daughter of Innis Lear,

I hope you have found your father and are making progress toward your goals. I must tell you that Ban is—Ban has

To Elia, daughter of Innis Lear,

Ban has betrayed me. He sent a message, his final message, and he has chosen the island. Or you. I hope it is you, because that, at least, I understand. No, I

To Elia, daughter of Innis Lear,

Last night I went onto my balcony and listened to the Aremore wind. It tugged my attention toward the river, smelling of fire and crisp red leaves. Do you know that smell? I do not know what causes it, for there are no flowers now, but there is a shift in the taste of the air in this month. I have held a dead, curling leaf to my nose and smelled nothing. Yet, I associate it with this season, when the trees in Lionis burn red and orange. This season. Tomorrow is my birth anniversary, when we hold a grand festival in honor of Aremore. Some years it coincides with the autumnal equinox, though not this year. There will be a parade that lasts hours in the morning, throughout my city, and in the afternoon we open the palace to all, entertaining ourselves with players and song, with applicants from my state library, hoping to impress me with their ideas. I wish

Elia, daughter of Innis Lear,

Elia,

Oak Earl,

I hope this finds you, unhoused as you are.

I have received word from Innis Lear and find myself determined to join you on your island. I must see through what I have begun. For not knowing whose eyes might see this dispatch, I hesitate to reveal details, except to say I will arrive at Port Comlack at the beginning of the dark moon week.

—M