Chapter 12
“A LETTER, for me?” Lana han Chevonian came into the kitchen where the maid Myra was kneading bread. Her mother sat in her chair in the corner, a blanket over her legs, even if it was quite hot in here with the oven blazing in readiness for the bread to go in.
“A telegram. It’s on the table,” Myra said.
Lana looked between the pans and bowls and baskets of vegetables standing on the table. Oh, there it was. Her name was written in neat letters on the front. In the corner there was a stamp from the telegraph office, so this had not been written by the person who had sent it, but rather by an employee of the office.
She unfolded the paper.
It said Ysherra at the top. Where even was that?
It said,
I’m sorry to bother you with this request. I have an urgent need to know all i
