Songs of Experience

My dear Cellan,

It’s always good to hear from you, but particularly when you’re so far away.

Forgive the tardiness of this reply; life in Lithmore refuses to slow down
and allow me a moment’s peace, as ever. The Leman ambassador’s death, the
aftermath of the slaving affair (it was Ulrich behind it all – you know
Ulrich, the lad who did my Mercantile Group bookkeeping?), and then
new problems every day.

Casimir’s Page killed a witch rather than bring her in. Accidentally, it
seems, but accidentally or not it is a grave matter. Casimir wished to
give him five lashes and take ten himself, but of course His Holiness had
to raise a stink about it. He seized on my figurative language about
sin and expiation and is blathering on about it at great length as
if anyone present actually thought what was happening had the sacred force
of true confession. Now the rumors say I broke some fellow’s leg in three
places as ‘penance’ for a crime (completely untrue, by the way) and he is
hounding me about that, too. I begin to think the man’s good qualities
utterly outweighed by his dense and obstreperous manner.

And Casimir… no, I will not speak of Casimir to you. It seems rather
unfair to complain about him to one who has far more to complain about, aye?
Suffice it to say that Lithmore remains as busy and frustrating as it has
always been, and I am too often angry and beset by concerns to indulge in
brooding contemplation of my fireplace.

Thank you for the update on Tomas’s condition; it has weighed heavily on
my mind since he left town. He has learned that Katarina’s feelings for him
did not match his feelings for her, and I think the sense of betrayal only
sharpens the edge of his grief. The only true cure for it is time, I think,
and the steadfast support of loved ones.

To some extent a period of drowning oneself in liquor is only to be expected
in the meantime, but he must still be able to function – if you think pouring
out his drinks is wise, then be guided by your heart on the matter. I will
enclose some doses of a concoction that helps return one to sobriety quickly
and unpleasantly, if you need him more functional than you find him at any
given time.

I am saddened to hear of your insomnia, but not surprised; there is much to
weigh on your mind, and far more responsibility than comfort, I am sure. (I
hope writing your letter to me was as much a balm as you anticipated.) When
you return, I think we must spend a day making the most of the summer in
some peaceful and idyllic way. It may soothe the ragged edges of both our
souls, perhaps, to bask in sunshine… though perhaps you will have had more
than enough of sunshine by the time you return?

As for Edessa, I can tell you this; it has troubled me greatly in the past,
but now that it is done, I am sure more than ever it will be what we are
remembered for, and we will be remembered well for it. Countless people have
already been spared by our decision, and as time goes by their ranks will
only swell. Perhaps it may not happen soon; perhaps it may not happen in our
lifetime. But history will vindicate us for our vision and our recognition of
the hopeless quagmire Edessa had become. I would stake my name on it – in
fact, I did. And I believe it is the finest thing that I have ever done or
been a part of doing.

There are other things I might say, but I do not know if they would be pleasant
or helpful. I hope your travels remain safe and productive, and you find a way
to sleep through the nights.

The sketch was lovely.

– Ariel