"Let me check something."

He flips to the back of the book and thumbs through a few pages, looking for...

"So 'Gildwing Advertising Agency, Liscor,' here, sells mail-in billing, so you can pay five gold pieces here to post a standard town advert there, Izril standard..." Flip flip flip. "That's letter-sized flyers, one of three standardized formats with text of your choosing, posted in at least five high-traffic locations for one week.

"You can send a 'free-address' message where if a registered recipient is not identified, the message may be claimed by any individual who can verify to truth stone that they match the description you provide and believe themself to be the intended recipient. This is twelve silver, plus one silver for every week you wish to extend the message holding period past the basic one week."

"So one option you have is to send a free-address message, and buy an advert instructing the recipient to claim the message at the Guild."

"I think that is worth it to me, thank you. What is the length limit?"

"For the advert, two hundred words." He'll show him the available templates too. "For the message itself, fifty words, and three silver more for every additional twenty-five words."

He lists some uniquely identifiable people who'd be able to post news of his whereabouts somewhere concerned parties would find it - Xrn, Keisha, the Magister, a couple of regular chessplayers - and the message says he's alive, kidnapped to the kidnapper Gazi's inconvenience, on his way back but months out, and advises keeping all of Klbkch's pieces.

The clerk doesn't ask any questions because that's not his job, but this shaping up as some top tier gossip. He's not going to spread it around because he'll get fired, but wow. He'll transcribe the message and read it back to Blai for confirmation.

"Do you want to take response messages? If you know your travel plans, we can instruct that replies be routed to a different city's Guild for no extra fee. Like ordinary messages, responses are retained for one week at the receiving Guild with optional extension; you can pay for the extra retention on replies, or the replier can."

"- yes, I'd like to take response messages. The next stop with a Guild..." He glances at his escort.

"Levrhine, in two to four weeks, if you want to make sure to catch your message," says archer man. "What's the expected travel time on the messages?"

        The clerk does some quick math: "Four days at most, if you send it today. The delay on a response message will be no more than five days."

"So I'll plan to collect in Levrhine, thank you."

"Alright. Do you want it held at Levrhine until the 16th of Mouring, then, you can pay three silver now to make sure it gets held?"

"Yes, thank you."

They can finish up the procedures, then, and take down Blai's identification so he can pick up his message at Levrhine.

He's the one who can make water out of thin air. Like this.

A [Mage] could probably fake that; usually they take name and class and city of origin, and optional additional description if that's not sufficiently disambiguating, then truthstone you about it at the desk.

Well, he didn't exactly originate in Liscor but it's close enough. Blai Artigas, cleric.

(If he wants to name somewhere from his native plane of existence that also works! But the clerk cannot read minds, so he does not say this.)

"All done. Have a good day."

"And you as well." And onward.

Is he going to walk or try hitching a ride? The escort will answer any questions he asks and provide suggestions if requested, but will not proactively offer non-security-critical opinions because their lord said the man was not to be bothered.

He's going to walk; it sounded like waiting around for a caravan would take a long time.

Sure, there's a road north they can follow. A proper paved road, not the outback trails he was following before. Not many travelers on the road, but more than zero. It's cold and dry, and the archer guy is going with extra layers since he's only in light armor.

The roads near the capital are well-patrolled and safe, so they won't even see a hint of monstrous wildlife.

The ice storms are still doing their thing in the sky.

A single elemental-mote-thing, without an accompanying storm or any friends, finds them. It hovers at a distance.

"Hello," Blai says to the mote-thing. He hasn't cast his Endure Elements yet but he will if it goes and gets friends.

It doesn't respond, but follows them for a while longer, and leaves. It doesn't seem to grab any friends. The weather doesn't go out of its way to bother him.

"What are those called?" he asks.

"The Winter Sprites?"

"Thank you."