Allissa

Eira wrote her message before the sun came up.

She wrote it in the old court script that she had learned from her time with the drows and drangels. At first light, she burned it in a silver bowl on the highest balcony, with one word spoken over the smoke. The smoke went up in a straight line on a windless morning. It kept going long after smoke should. Eira watched it out of sight and came down to breakfast.

I asked her how long a message like that takes to arrive. She said that ...