Dear Alma,
Your last letter tore my heart out, with you begging me to quit the Eyeless gang and come home. Whatever gruesome tales you heard, the Eyeless aren’t bloodthirsty brutes like Hatters or Howlers. They know things, secret things. They’re teaching me how to make medicines and brew potions—and even carve my own bonecharms for the occult boxing fights. If I keep winning matches, I’ll catch Jeannette Lee’s eye. She’s the boss here at the Albarca. If I work for her, the coin’ll come rolling in! More than I ever made toiling on the docks.
Sad news about Gram’s fever. I can’t spare any coin, but here’s some dried raven beak for a poultice. Boil it down with yarrow root in a copper pot and spread it thick on Gram’s chest. She’ll be right as Gristol rain in no time.
Your brother,
-Rory