Try as she might (and she does try) she cannot decipher all of the words.

"Transport of lyrium?" Testing it out to see how well it might fit into the frame provided bt the rest of the letter. Not impossible, but neither can it be known with certainty. It feels like there is more to be scrutinised than there is actually legible and she sighs quietly before carefully, rolling it up. More knowledgable eyes and minds than hers might be able to pick more truth from it.

Picking up the candle, she checks around the table, in case any other notes or scraps of parchment might have fallen to the floor.