Private The Star Looks to the Sea

[Adelyn Ufrey]

Adelyn watched the schooner fly in to the harbor, her eyes steely for what was to come. The crew were a responsive lot, well-paid and experienced, tying the ship off on the warf without much fuss or noise, as though not to disturb the tranquility of the morning’s still silence. It was the Seastrider, without a doubt. A fast ship for fast travel between Bully Harbor and the Maquistry Cape, taking passengers and cargo to and from the two cities with a speed exceeded only by the Missertrosse Gulls, and always offered an easy mooring at the Fishminster's docks, with few questions asked of her by the authorities.

It had been a letter on that same Missetrosse service that had summoned her here today. That stood her here in the cold morning breeze, waiting with a paw clutched tightly behind her back as the Seastrider’s gangway set down on the dock, and its passengers could begin to disembark.

The beast that came off the deck was at once both familiar and distant. Another stoat, a head taller, still strongly shaped, despite the flickers of grey in his neat and orderly fur, only now molting into its winter white. He looked much the same that he had when she’d left him and home behind, years ago now. Real and invented memories drew them close in embrace, and she buried her muzzle in his shoulder, letting herself believe in them.

“It’s been a while,” she said, voice all but a whisper.

Her father gave her a pat on the back, gentle signal for her to break away.

“Too long,” came the reply, sharp eyes looking to meet her own. Adelyn turned her face away, as much for shame as some quiet sense of sheltered pride, that she didn’t need to match his movements or follow his instruction. She wasn’t a child anymore.

His paw found her chin anyway, and raised her muzzle to look at him.

“You’re still my daughter. I should have found the time to visit you sooner.”

There was nowhere to look away to, now. For so many long seconds, the two looked into each other, an older, firmer stoat looking into his younger, somehow more faded, feminine mirror – Adelyn finding both care and control in her father’s sharp eyes. The same forces that had driven her from her family now held her close.

The younger stoat pulled away, turning her eyes back to the city behind her, to her life now, to something and anything far from the comfort some part of her still longed to find, but never could.

She cleared her throat.

“You said you needed my help? For something?”

Her father still stared at her, as though inspecting her, like she was a new hire at his factory, looking for signs she was deficient in her work. Then, thoughtfully, he picked up his satchel and turned toward the shore.

“Walk with me,” he said, moving purposefully down the dock, not waiting for her to hear him.

Adelyn followed, forcing herself not to hurry to catch up closer as he continued speaking.

“There’s a matter of business that needs special attention. Something big, sensitive.”

She frowned. It hadn’t taken much to guess from the vagueness of the letter that her task would be a secret one.

“Not more of the same, then?”

Her work was already sensitive. She put her neck out for the family, risked her reputation and her freedom from time to time.

If he caught the slight edge to her tone, the elder Ufrey didn’t react to it. He continued to lead the way, away from the docks, into the rows of sturdy buildings that was the Imperial Warehouses district.

“No. This will be different. You’ll be working through an associate of mine, right here in the harbor.”

Thoughts flickered in his eyes – something shockingly close to uncertainty. A look she didn’t often see in her father’s features.

It was gone before she could process what it might mean.

“It’s a major service for the company. For the family. One I can entrust only to you.”

Another surprise – enough to make her almost stop in her step.

“You- you’re serious?”

Her guard was down, voice tinged with forlorn hope, and the look again flashed over her father’s face. But only for an instant.

“I am. Your brothers don’t have the skill for it, aren’t positioned for it like you are. Maybe you were right to come here. It all seems to have worked out in the end.”

Now Adelyn could hardly believe her ears.

“Mother wouldn’t think so,” she said, eyes ahead, looking for the shape of whatever opportunity her father was leading her to.

“No,” he laughed, softly. “She wouldn’t. She tried to talk me out of this. But you’ve done good work here, and it’s clear the danger hasn’t scared you away.”

She looked to him again, disbelieving, but her heart turned over with pride. To think she might have done right, that she wasn't the wayward brat that lost her way, a bitter disappointment best kept at distance. That her father, at least, believed in her.

“Whatever mom says, it takes more than bombs and brigands to scare off an Ufrey jill.”

He smiled, and she thought she could see a glimmer of fatherly pride in his own expression.

“That’s my girl. I was mad that your… reporter friend… even took you to that party. We were all very worried for you when we heard what had happened.”

Adelyn tried to shrug it off, the concern she knew turned too quick to control. On some level, though, she couldn’t help but feel warm to know her family back home had cared for her well-being, even if they were wrong in how they went about it.

“You shouldn’t be mad at Aiken. I begged him to take me. Took the brunt of the blast right in front of me too. Probably the only reason I was unharmed.”

A pang of guilt. She could still see his battered body, smoke rising from his back in the firey, smokey haze of the ruined opera house. Then, bandaged at Pyrostoat, wracked with pain as he tried to rise, after two days near to death in an unwaking sleep.

Her father seemed hesitant, either for the talk of her obvious jackfriend or something else on his mind.

“This will be safer, I’ve been assured of that. My associate's to take good care of you – or he’ll hear from me about it.”

They reached their destination before she could get anything more useful out of her father about the mission ahead. The Armory EXIM Security Company offices were decidedly nondescript, and Adelyn doubted much of their budget went to marketing.

Without another word, Harold Ufrey entered through the front door, his daughter soon behind, shutting the door behind to keep out the worst of the winter chill.

 

[Peter Morrey]

The offices of Armory EXIM Security Company were as nondescript inside as they were without. A few potted shrubs were pushed into barren corners of the room, filling the space with their wilting greenery, while the three walls were largely taken up with three large desks staffed by clerks who might well have been auditioning for a gender-swapped version of Mother, Maiden, Crone. The center of the room was occupied by a large drafting table laid out with complex actuarial tables, maps of trade routes, a ledger that looked as if it weighed more than at least one of the clerks, and stacks of mostly-tidy paper. Doors on either side of the room led off to hallways that, based on the visible turns further down, must have circled the main warehouse, with a few other rooms and offices interspersed.

It was from down the right-hand of these hallways that a sable ferret jack entered the room, a broad, easy smile on his face. He was dressed in a neat, dark suit and jacket over a burgundy waistcoat and a mint-and-white paisley ascot, a combination that somehow seemed formal enough for the office while being approachable enough for an evening of drinks and cigars. His fur was nearly groomed, just a little bit of rough left around the cheeks to give a hint of worldliness and maturity. His eyes, brown and bright with a liveliness that bordered on mischief, gleamed as he approached the trio, offering a paw to Harold that he followed up with an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

"Harold," he greeted the weapons magnate with the warmth and charm of an old friend. "So good to see you again - and to make the trip in this weather! Truly an honor. You must let me treat you to brandy for this, I have just the bottle for the occasion." His accent was broad enough to be from everywhere and nowhere; there was hint of something slightly exotic about it, but it could as easily have been eastern Vulpinsulan or East Varangian.

His gaze turned to Adelyn, and all of that intensity focused on her, eyes that didn't see so much as they scrutinized, absorbed, admired, appraised. "And you must be the lovely Miss Adelyn Ulfrey," he greeted the jill, the same warm tone suffusing his words. He bowed in a manner befitting a duke, one paw against the small of his back, the other lifting her paw to place a gentle, courtly kiss on its back. He straightened, looking between the pair with those eyes still crinkled at the corners with amusement. "Your father greatly understated your beauty, though given the blessings bestowed upon your entire family in that regard, perhaps he simply failed to notice."

He put a paw to his head, dramatically demonstrating his self-recrimination. "How rude of me! My name is Peter Morrey, chief executive officer of Armory Export-Import Security. I'm sure your father has told you all about our business, which I am quite excited to share with you. Now, come come," he invited, gesturing to the hall from which he'd originated. "You must join me, I've a fire going to warm you from the cold. Michel, take their coats," he ordered the youngest of the clerks, who rose quickly to comply.

"Have you taken lodgings already?" Peter inquired of the elder Ulfrey. "I have a townhouse within walking distance, with a furnished guest room available. Modest by your taste, I am sure, but certainly better than the boarding houses in the city."