SEVEN
The telegraph office was empty. I sat on an uncomfortable wooden bench and waited for a response. Wensem had said that he didn't want to be disturbed, but this was an emergency. I'd also had a troubling dream and I hadn't been able to shake it. Feeling like I needed to warn Wensem, I sent the telegraph. I looked up as the operator received an incoming message. He shook his head at me silently. No one home. On some level I expected that.
I considered trying my luck a second time: sending the messenger out to knock on Wensem's door again, but I wasn't sure it would do any good. If he was home, Wensem would have answered. Maero are straightforward folk in that regard.
Putting my failed telegraph behind me, I made my way to a small consignment store down the street. The waters that fl
