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.
