Tuesday, October 15
In a high-collared green sailor’s jacket – the uniform of all who work for Gray Watch’s Admiralty – Indirk walked back into the offices she’d left a month and a half ago. She had a smile on her face as she went to the wood stove in the reception to find that someone had put some coffee on to brew. Making coffee was a little more difficult here. In Pharaul, hot water was plentiful, every wall lined with pipes affixed to a boiler somewhere, but here people either heated water with magic or burned wood or coal. Indirk thought this coffee tasted better.
From a desk in the corner, a man waved, “Hello, Miss Correlon. Are you back today?”
“No, I’m back tomorrow,” Indirk said with smile. “Of course I’m back today. You know I’m a workaholic. First thing I did when I got back to the city was iron my jacket and shine my cuffs.”
“Commodore will appreciate it, even if they don’t say it.” He lifted a file. “Run this back to say hello? I’ll put your coffee on your desk.”
“Don’t even give me five minutes? Okay, yeah. Why not?” Indirk took the file and shouldered through a nearby door.
Here was a large room with a fireplace on the far wall, desks and cabinets in great rows interrupted by clusters of chairs and broad tables where Admiralty officers argued with merchants and naval captains alike over the office’s three ‘M’s: maps, military, and money. Indirk enjoyed how busy things were even first thing in the morning, so many comings and goings to keep track of, so many people from so many different offices all across the city checking for the Commodore’s approval or begging for a pittance from their coffers.
On her way through the office, Indirk paused behind a broad-shouldered alpin with soft gray fur poking from beneath his cuffs and running up his neck into his softly gray hair. Draping her arms over his shoulders, she said, “Guess who’s back to get in your way.”
The man startled, then pivoted, “Indirk! You’re back. It’s been-“
“Don’t get too excited, Mr. Mardo. We’re at work.” She shook the folder in his face, already walking away from him. “Save that smile for later. Someone got me a bottle of wine I’ll need help with.”
Turning around in his chair, the gray-furred man named Mardo called after her, “Don’t forget to come by for Avie later!”
Through a pair of big doors near the fireplace was another large room with its own fireplace, though this one had only a single enormous desk surrounded by luxurious chairs and a hundred maps stacked on every surface and pinned to every wall. Indirk put her file on top of a pile of files on the edge of the desk, “From the front office.”
The Gray Commodore was busily reading over something and making notes on something else, a pair of uniformed men behind them waiting for some statement or command. There were always uniformed people hovering around the Gray Commodore waiting for something or other, unable to get their attention. Indirk briefly became one of those people, wondering if she would be acknowledged or if she’d just end up walking away, unconcerned either way.
Indirk liked getting little glimpses of the Commodore like this, wrapped up in their own importance, not because Indirk admired them at all – no, the Commodore was monstrous in many ways, profiteering off their little slice of a thousand-year war that had slain Indirk’s own parents and so many others – but because it was strange how the Commodore took their own importance for granted. Middle-aged by anthral standards, so roughly Indirk’s own age, hair perhaps prematurely white and bald-faced as any sollin of Gray Watch, they looked horribly normal except for the size of their shoulder pauldrons and their bizarre aura of self-confidence. It was not charisma. It was just confidence, the kind that is annoying to be around too much.
At length, without looking up, the Commodore said, “Thought you’d quit. Or been fired.”
Indirk wasn’t completely sure she was the one being addressed, but answered anyway, “No, Ser. Just took some time off.”
“Good. Turnover’s a sign of poor management.” The Commodore grabbed the file Indirk had delivered, then closed the one they’d been working on and held it up toward her. “This one’s ready. Have it sealed and sent to the Code Five Box at the Embassy office. Got that?”
“Code Five Box. Got it.” She left, and just as swiftly took the folder to her desk to open it up and look through it. More funding for lighthouse renovations? That was a little mundane for Code Five access, wasn’t it? Indirk made notes on how much money was involved and what parties were taking part, slipping them into a drawer to deliver to her friends from Pharaul later. Her job made spying too easy.
