Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 259
to Queen Galas. It paused in the air before her.
She sat down. "What do you want, little one?"
It dipped down, then up, and then appearing to gather its
courage, landed on her knee. She had never feared insects, and
sat admiring it, trying to pretend it was some sort of omen.
That was no good, though--she was well past the stage where
omens could tell her anything she didn’t know. Lavin was
coming; nothing would change that.
The moth beat its wings, but didn’t rise. Suddenly it
seemed to sprout another pair of wings, and then it gave one
flap and... unfolded.
She blinked at the single sheet of paper that now lay on
her lap.
Galas’ fingers trembled as she reached to touch it. The
sheet was square, smooth and dry, and slightly warm. Writing
was faintly visible on it.
The skin of her neck crawled. She had never seen
anything like this, never heard of such an occurrence. The
morphs could change animals, she knew, but they didn’t
understand writing. Could this be a message from some new
Wind, whom she had never met? Or had the desals, the Winds
who had helped her take the throne, decided to intervene again
in her life?
She picked up the letter by one corner, and turned it to
the moonlight. She read.
May I humbly beseech Queen Galas, wife of this world,
to grant an audience to a traveller? For I have not rested on
green earth since before the ancient stones of your palace were
laid, nor have I spoken to a kindred soul since before your
language, oh Queen, was born.
I came as a falling star down your sky, and now feel
again what it is to breathe. I would speak to one such as