Chapter fifteen

Gorodnikov

 

Dom was both gratified and surprised that Arbutus seemed so pleased to see him. This was always the case, of course, as the Governor had very kindly taken him under his wing when he had been orphaned, and he was clearly fond of him. To Dom he was one of his two ‘uncles’, the other one being Arnon in Amansk, and he was indebted to both of them.

‘My boy!’ bellowed Arbutus when he saw him walking down the long corridor that led to the Governor’s offices, ‘greetings!’

Arbutus was a strong man with a big voice. He was now in early middle age but if anything the years had strengthened him. Never before had he had so much influence, now that the Emperor wanted to make his city not only the jewel in the empire’s naval crown, but also the end of a mighty trading route running across an entire continent – tact and politics would never allow him to say it, but Ortia’s and Amansk’s misfortunes were very much his lucky break. The full consequences of this for his family, however, he hadn’t yet fully assimilated. His mind was like a huge log rolling down a hill, powerful when it got going but not very subtle.  

Dom was swept up into the big man’s orbit. Arbutus had once been a fiery redhead but age had softened his colour so that he was now a sandy ginger, not too far removed from Dom’s own strawberry blond.  Arbutus squeezed Dom hard, in his usual manner; this man was a hugger on an epic scale.

After the prescribed period Dom pulled himself free, smiling wanly.

‘Aren’t I meant to be a spy?’ he murmured

The Governor laughed.

‘No’ he boomed, ‘you’re meant to be a nurse maid…’

They had agreed to have these meetings every three weeks, and Dom had assumed that at the meetings he would tell his patron everything about what Major Viola and her odd team had discussed.  Up to this point there had been nothing much to tell.

‘Well’ said Arbutus, ‘come in and tell me everything!’

The Governor bustled into the huge room from which the province was governed. Dom followed in his wake. It was a hive of flunkies, merchants and middle men, all writing, shuffling papers and talking. Most, but not all, of them were humans.  The noise was extraordinary and in the middle of the room was a vast, extravagantly upholstered chair in which the Governor sat and gave orders.  It was Dom’s idea of misery but it seemed to work.

Arbutus headed for one of a set of offices that made up one edge of the room. This was his ‘quiet room’, although this was only a relative term.

The room had a desk, four old chairs and a drinks cabinet. It also had a bookshelf full of Imperial statutes. Dom had looked at these before – the pages on most of them remained uncut, but those dealing with mercantile and maritime law were exceptionally well-thumbed.  Arbutus knew how to make money, and most of his citizens were very grateful for it.    

‘Sit down’ commanded the Governor, sinking into a chair, ‘tell me what you’ve been up to’

Dom looked over at the open door.

‘Shouldn’t you close the door?’ he asked

Arbutus looked puzzled and then laughed.

‘What’s that, lad?’

‘I have some news about the Ortians… They are behaving rather strangely – I think that they’re up to something’

Arbutus laughed again.

‘I’m sure that they’re planning all kinds of things, but I suggest that we turn a blind eye, eh? We don’t want to get involved in high Imperial politics unless we have to. This whole new proconsul thing is best left to others, don’t you think? Personally I think Marthian did a rather splendid job, but these things happen,,,’

‘But, Governor, I’m not sure that it’s about that…’

Arbutus stopped laughing, but his expression of mild amusement remained.

‘My word, you are taking this seriously aren’t you?’

Dom felt a stab of hurt.

‘What do you mean?’ he said, ‘I assumed that the job had some point to it…’

Arbutus caught the look in Dom’s eyes and the smile died on his lips.

‘Well, of course’ he said, a few degrees more seriously, ‘it’s to help me to cosy up to those strange Ortian elves and make sure that they don’t cause any mischief, and by that I mean mostly to themselves. Just look after them…’

Dom couldn’t help himself – he shook his head, irritated.

‘Well, sir’ he said, stiffly, ‘that’s not much of a job, is it?’

Arbutus smiled kindly, and with an intensity that Dom would have thought a little bemusing, if he hadn’t been so used to it from his patron.

‘Dominic – it’s your first job’ he murmured, ‘and I’m sure that, in fact, that you are charming and helpful and gallant. It’s just that we all know that this is some of trick that the Emperor is playing on both parties, and that the intention is to keep the Major safe but far from home. This is just pointless busy work all round – but it won’t do you any harm to be around high ranking elves…’

Dom knew this was true, but now he mildly annoyed that the Governor wasn’t taking him seriously. In fact, it seemed like the Ortians really were planning something, and something unconnected with petty politics, but no-one seemed interested.

‘So, what have they been saying?’ asked Arbutus, slightly, it seemed, out of duty.

Dom’s stubbornness, always a strong, if generally hidden, feature of his personality, kicked in. He was damned if he’s tell now.  He shook his head.

‘Nothing important’ he said, ‘they don’t really do anything much…’

Arbutus was debating with himself whether to take this any further when there was a polite knock on the open door. A young female elf was smiling at them.

‘Iris!’ said Dom, rising to embrace her.

‘Dominic!’ responded the elf, ‘it’s so lovely to see you…’ She held him tightly.

Iris was the Chancellor of Gorodnikov, Arbutus’s second in command and his closest friend. She ran the shadow side of the city, the part that worked in lonely offices well into the night and made sure that all the books were balanced, the bills were paid and the ships were seaworthy.  Dom had always found her an excellent counterbalance to the governor, as although he found him hugely entertaining, he was much easier to deal with when she was around.

The only problem that he had with her, however, was that she was, if anything, even keener on hugging than Arbutus was.  He waited patiently until, eventually, she let him go. She took a few steps backwards so that she could inspect him.

‘My dear’ she said, ‘you’re so grown up…’

He stood smiling, enjoying the fact that he was now old enough to do adult things, but all too aware of how long he now had in which to do them.

As Iris inspected him, something unexpected and slightly disturbing happened – her eyes seemed to fill up with tears.

‘All grown up’ she repeated softly, turning to Arbutus who smiled gently and searched around for a cloth with which she could blow her nose. He couldn’t find anything immediately, so he offered her his sleeve. She shook her head, resignedly. Dom sensed that this wasn’t the first time that he had failed his friend at a critical moment.  She wiped her eyes with her hand and turned back to Dom. 

‘Hay fever season’ she said with a wave of her hand, ‘always a trial’

Dom was momentarily confused – it really had looked as if she’d been weeping – but his mind had already moved back to the Ortians. He wanted to find out what they were planning whether the Governor cared or not.

‘Have you tried Echinacea?’ he said politely, ’that seems to help everything’

Iris considered this.

‘No, I don’t think that I have’ she said, ‘perhaps it’s time to give it a go…’

The conversation died briefly, but then Arbutus’s irrepressible hunger for large scale gossip asserted itself. He wanted to know about Amansk, what he had learned about politics in Ortia, news from Formor, any shred of information, in fact, that Dom night have, however uncorroborated, about the political world around them. Dom was now happy to tell them everything that he had heard, but he mentioned nothing about ancient maps and imperial claims. This would be his proper job – a job done for no-one but himself – to find out what was going on.

At some point during this conversation Iris slipped away back to her silent office. Dom didn’t see her go, but, as always, he hoped that he would see her again soon. She was a lovely person and Arbutus really didn’t seem to appreciate her enough.  

Eventually, too, the Governor was called away, and Dom was left to make his way out of the chaos and back into the afternoon sunlight. No-one had offered him lunch, so he brought some seafood from a stall by the harbour and made his way slowly back to his workplace, deep in thought.  Not once, sadly, during his complex ruminations, did he work out the most salient fact that he might have taken from the meeting – that he’d just seen his parents.