The al-Rhayidhian sky captain bowed to Breanna as she walked off the gangplank at the Portsdale sky dock. In his accented Kelltic, he said, "M'Lady, is always a pleasure to have such company as yours on a journey. Until we meet again."

Breanna woke the following morning some time after sunup. The heavy curtains in the guest room had done a fine job keeping the early morning sun from peeking in, and it briefly dismayed Breanna that she was getting a late start to what would promise to be a busy day. Griogor was passed out on the couch in the room, where he had insisted on sleeping, so Breanna got up, picked out one of her traveling dresses from her pack, and slipped behind a changing screen to dress. The fine Kelltic wool of the dress felt downright abrasive after the fine alfaren silks from last night, but Breanna was not quite ready to parade around Portsdale dressed like that.

Breanna walked over to the writing desk, to look at the paper and pen. There was no ink bottle. "Hmm," she said aloud as she picked up the pen. She could feel faint echoes of Heka within the nib on the stylus. Placing the pen on the top page of paper, she wrote her name – and ink appeared on the paper. She grinned to herself as she put the pen back in its cradle, and walked over to the bookshelf. There were perhaps a dozen books on the shelf, all in Elven, of course.

Breanna bowed deeply to the king, relieved that the meeting had gone so well, and yet not quite believing it herself. There's got to be a catch. But maybe we'll just take it as it stands now.  "I, we, thank you, Your Highness. I look forward to talking with my people and hope to re-open trade between our people. Until such time as we may meet again, be well." Breanna curtsied deeply and glanced to the chamberlain for direction as to taking her leave.