[The Alchemist's Guild; All, Esp. Peter Bloomfield]

[Fortuna Imperatrix Mundi]

[A letter arrives at the Alchemist's guildhall.]


Alchemists,

I write in haste.

I know your craft must proceed apace. I write only to say unto you that time grows short. One that I trusted has fallen to the Enemy and I am the one It now seeks foremost as a morsel, prize, or worse. Please hurry to whatever extent will not compromise the work. I am run to exhaustion by this Thing and while I have tricks yet to deceive It, they shall not last for ever.

I also write to request any devices of fire that you have in supply. These too shall be needed. I will pay in what coin I have left, or kind.

Finally, a word to Peter Bloomfield, who I know is among your number. Peter: I am glad indeed that we have shared words and confidences. I know that I am oft given to coldness, severity, and other such appearances. Or perhaps that is simply how I see myself. But know that I am glad that you have found a place within this Well where you shall live and thrive, where your talents shall be appreciated, and where you may do good to the improvement of this place. Remember the words of Kula, as I said them to you, for all this Well is a Garden that must be tended. You are among the Gardeners, and whatever shall happen to me, I am glad to see you tend our Well.

Yours,

Amelie