Chapter Eighteen
The next morning Callista heard Kal’s footsteps and, without opening her eyes, pointed a finger and said, “I’m getting up. Keep your arrow to yourself.”
Kal was waiting with his feet propped up on a log, leaning back in his chair. “Do you know where the messenger post is in town?”
“Of course.”
“Can you remember a message if I give it to you without writing it down?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to write?”
“Yes, Gran taught me,” she said, slightly offended.
“It’s not a strange question. If I’m honest, I didn’t learn to read or write until I was twenty-five. I didn’t see the point, but this isn’t about me. I need you to take a message and send a bird to Dorodia. Mark it for Elora and write, ‘Waiting for you in Trentfri, signed Kal and Marl.’ Or better yet, put your gran’s
