A Letter Warm from Copperhythe

Joan, the lamps here never go cold, and the man at the warehouse says that is the whole point. Each one has a small glass eye that watches whoever sits beneath it, and they say the Crown only dims the ones that complain. I took a warm lamp for my room anyway, and I’ve stopped asking whose eye it is. Four coins went across on House Sec’s link this morning, so buy the boy his boots. Don’t wait up for me, and don’t sell the boat. Petra