Chapter 9: What Veyra Mourne Actually Wants

The invitation came on oiled parchment, folded once, sealed with plain wax — no crest, which was itself a kind of statement. Pia set it on Mara's work table at the chandler's office beside a cup of barley water that had gone cold, and said only that the messenger had waited for neither reply nor receipt.

Mara read it twice, then turned it over to examine the fold lines. Three creases, precise and parallel, the work of someone who folded documents the way other people breathed — without attending to the act. She recognized the habit.

The note requested her presence aboard the Argent Patience for the purpose of reviewing trade documentation, at her earliest convenience, which was the Free Cities way of saying immediately and knowing you would understand.