The note had come to him through the lamp.
Alistair held it in his hand, and for a moment the room above the Sealed Step felt smaller than it was. He had read worse things on paper before.
He had read the dispatch about the accelerated Upholder movement without his pulse changing once.
This was different, since this was not about a faction, it was about a person, and the person was Elara, and she was three days south of him, and there was nothing he could do for her tonight.
He folded the note over the flame and watched it catch, then let it burn down to nothing in the small iron dish.
Following that, he sat at the table and thought.
The note had not been from Silas. Silas always signed, in his own crooked way, and Silas always left a route to a follow-up.
This one carried neither.
