The telephone service was terrible. Zelda kept a hand jammed over her ear while the other was assaulted by static. She could just make out the rings, sounding as distant as Roma itself. She made a face.

Beside her, the innkeeper shrugged. "It's the mountains, they disrupt—"

"Shh! Please. I'm sorry. Ah! Dina! Dina, it's Zelda!"

Dina's voice was tinny, hard to decipher. "Zelda? … call?"

"I need information," Zelda said, as loudly and clearly as she could. It didn't help that the hotel's phone was ancient.

"Wha … matio …?"

This was going to be painful. The innkeeper closed the office door and left her to it. After fifteen minutes of frustration, Zelda finally gave up and told Dina to look for a telegram. Call ended, she hurried out to the post office to send it.

10:36 am, September 26

From: Zelda Minelli, Mattium, Lower Germania

Recipient: Dina Testa, Roma, Italia, RAP HQ

Message:

NEED ALL AVAIL. INFO ON P.I.N. O. BIERNEVICH (SP?). RESPOND ASAP.

Z. M.

Next came the much longer message she had agonized over the night before. It was going to cost a pretty penny, too. There was no way she could trust it to the usual wire, it would have to go over the secure services.

11:00 am, September 26
From: Zelda Minelli, Mattium, Lower Germania
Recipient: Elton Reinard, Roma, Italia, RAP HQ
Message:

REPORT: SPOTTED PZ AT POPULAR RESTAURANT IN SMALL TOWN. WENT INTO PRIVATE ROOM. UNABLE TO VERIFY WHEN THEY LEFT. P.I.N. IN TOWN.

STORY: PZ WAS SPOTTED LAST NIGHT AT LOCAL HOTSPOT ADELINA'S, IN THE COMPANY OF SEVERAL YOUNG LADIES AND GENTLEMEN. AFTER A ROUND AT THE BAR, THEY PROCEEDED UPSTAIRS TO A PRIVATE ROOM. SEVERAL ORDERS OF THE POPULAR GOLDWIEIZEN BREW WERE DELIVERED TO THEIR PARTY, WHICH PROGRESSED WELL INTO THE NIGHT. EYEWITNESSES SAY PZ MAY BE BECOMING CLOSE TO A LOCAL MALE FRIEND. HE ESCORTED HER INSIDE AND UPSTAIRS, HAND ON THE SMALL OF HER BACK.

Z.M.

It was hardly a work of art, but it was good enough for a brief. When she took it back to the clerk, money at the ready, she said, "This needs to go via secure wire."

The clerk snorted. "And you think we have one of those out here, do you?"

Zelda paused. "You don't?"

"Those machines are expensive, domina."

"Well, I can't trust this to just any connection," she whipped the telegram order out of his reach. He glared at her, no doubt thinking her a finicky bitch. Zelda stood her ground. "Who does have a secure machine?"

"The folk in Kassel will. You could mail it over land with instructions to wire it from there."

"Then that is what I will do." She and the clerk stared each other down for a long, tense moment.

"As you wish, domina," the clerk said at last. While she waited for him to process the letter, she put her hands in her pockets to keep them warm. Her fingers found the folded telegram from Henri. The guilt re-emerged. She glanced around the shop but there were no postcards for sale. She hadn't seen a single one anywhere in Mattium, come to think of it. The town was hardly a tourist attraction. With a sigh, she settled for a few sheets of paper and an ordinary envelope. With pen in hand, she decided that she may as well do as he had asked.

Henri,
Germania is much, much colder than Italia. Every day the sky looks ready to snow, but it has yet to come. There is rain and wind and ice, but no snow. I gather that it often blizzards here(!), and people are frequently snowed in.
I am making progress on my assignment. I am kept very busy, interviewing locals and learning their culture.
It is bizarre, but this small town seems to have completely rejected Latin. It is as though they are not a part of Roma at all. Just purchasing bread is an ordeal. The bakery is known as "die Bäckerei" (no, I cannot pronounce it) and the baker will not accept my denarii! He says they are not useful in town. He's not the first. The postmaster, bookseller, and every waiter and waitress have given me strange looks as well. Only the baker has been rude enough to give the money back, as though it is my fault I use legitimate currency!
That is all the room and time I have for now.
From abroad,
Zelda

She mailed it before she could second-guess the wisdom of a friendly letter. It couldn't possibly cause that much damage, could it? Before she left, she asked the clerk to please notify her hotel as soon as any letters arrived for her. He gave her that same flat look but didn't disagree.