Beloved Zann,

Things have quieted down. I don’t know what the greenkind are doing about trying to find the chancellor’s killers, but whatever it is, it’s subtle. And the killers are lying low. Or maybe they’ve already done everything they wanted to do; I don’t know.

It’s easy to expect an entire revolution to happen at once. Sometimes that’s not how it works, though. Sometimes it comes in drips and draps before reaching its full flood. I ought to know.

Oh, the past, the past. I never asked to leave it. The Great Nap pulled me out of the past, though, and now here I am in Crideon. I’m not the person I was when Acea and I tried to lead a rising against Master Gratteck. I can still feel what I felt then, though. The anger.

There’s never yet been a greenkind as cruel or as rapacious as Gratteck. But then when Gratteck looked at you, you knew he saw you. Most of the greenkind I’ve met never even looked at me. They took our country without looking at us. Of course I still feel the anger.

It makes me want to seek out the chancellor’s killers. Join them. Help them, guide them, lead them against the laurans. Strike a blow myself, force the pissards to look at me, tell them your name.

But I can’t. That’s just not who I am anymore. There are things I want more, and if I’m very cautious and very patient and very daring and very cunning, I just might get one of those things.

And I’ll be very sorry if all the people fighting back against the greenkind, the laurans, are defeated and executed. But I can’t help them. I can’t help you either.

Your always loving,

Ybel