cailisairgid | { narrative } in the dusk you notice the bookshelves

Mr Arkenstone,

I must apologize sincerely for the lateness of my response! Recently I took quite ill, and my attendants were most insistent that I rest myself; I have spent all of my time since recovering ensuring that none of my work was jeopardized by my absence from it. Nevertheless, it was a joy to receive your letter and I am certain that your sincerity will win you the trust of your employers in due time. Your concise manner of thinking may be off-putting to some, but no doubt they will come to value your lack of dishonesty. (Truthfully I almost envy them today; I must give an audience this afternoon to a man who I cannot be so sure of! He is too charming, and he knows it too well.)

I believe it would be best for me to visit you, if you should still like to meet again, at least for the near future; perhaps you might show me your laboratory after all? It would be an honour to see it.

Sincerely,

The Shadow,

I am terribly sorry that I could not respond to you myself when you wrote me; I had taken quite ill and I suspect you know full well the extent of a healer's stubborn nature. I had meant to see to it your kind offer of further reading material was answered - I would've been so grateful! - but as you must deduce it entirely slipped my mind.

It would be a pleasure to speak with you again, with the both of us well.

Sincerely,

To my dear Lyla,

It has been some time indeed since we last spoke, and I hope that my letter finds you as safe and well as you can be. I have been a little unwell, but as I'm recovered and have reacquainted myself with my responsibilities, I've taken the afternoon to catch up on some of my correspondence! Illness is a tiresome business, and extremely inconvenient when it comes to both of those things. It is especially inconvenient when one has guests (or guest, singular, I ought to say - though he throws a solid wrench into my daily occupation enough for ten men).

It would be wonderful to hear from you, and naturally if there's anything I might offer you, you need only ask. I suspect that you'll have plenty to tell me in turn, if you'd like to. Now, as I only have so much time to finish these letters before duty draws me away from my garden, I will leave you with my most sincere affection.

Your friend,

[enclosed: a dried, pressed flower from Nuala's garden.]

Darling Belani,

My dear friend, how I've missed you! Lord Kethaigne's company is simply not the same, though his thoughtfulness throughout my recovery did not go unnoticed. (And while it was kind of him to be so concerned for my health, I am particularly grateful that he does not persist in treating me as if I am a glass figurine.) Of course, he has his plans and I mine; we shall see if there is to be any common ground found. Nuada has left the matter of the Duke in my hands, and if I may say so myself I believe that's wise.

There is still so much to do here - and a bit of reassuring that I am well - before I can think of traveling myself, but it does rather loom on the horizon and I confess I am pleased by the thought. I must admit, though, it isn't as pleasing as simply moving about under my own power and having my study and work to myself again. I abhor too much idleness, and when I have so much to do - but we are well again, I'm sure you're pleased to hear it. I was so grateful for Ankhenaten while he stayed, I cannot begin to express it.

And you, my warlord? What news of Armada, and most importantly of the Uroc and your riding? How do you (and they!) fare? Tell me she is still as beautiful as I saw in your mind's eye.

I think of you daily,

Uther Doul,

Belani, if you are reading this, stop at once. (Certainly he wouldn't dare - but I shall dare hope it made you laugh.)

Now that I come to write this letter, I'm not certain what it is I want to say. I will say, then, that I hope it finds you safe and whole, and that I am always honoured by the trust you place in me. I'm terribly sorry for how we last saw each other, though I suppose it was hardly my fault and there was little any of us could have done. I am grateful that you, the Brucolac and dearest Ankhenaten were there when I was so vulnerable; I know how easily it could have been far worse.

I found this, and I'd like to share it with you:

Timeless sea breezes,
sea-wind of the night:
you come for no one;
if someone should wake,
he must be prepared
how to survive you.

Timeless sea breezes,
that for aeons have
blown ancient rocks,
you are purest space
coming from afar...

Oh, how a fruit-bearing
fig tree feels your coming
high up in the moonlight.

In friendship,

{ narrative } in the dusk you notice the bookshelves

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