The third sub-basement of the Admiralty Hall sat six feet below the high-water line of the Gray Rush, accessible only by a narrow spiral stairs of slippery, slime-coated greenstone. The air smelled of stale river bilge, rotting sheepskin, lamp oil. The heavy, choking silt stench of mud that had settled forty years ago and never fully dried. Water dripped steadily from the vaulted ceiling, collecting in dark, murky pools between the rows of iron-banded oak filing chests.
Senior Surveyor Korr Var waded through four inches of cold water, his high rubberized survey boots sloshing with a rhythmic sucking sound. In his left hand he held an iron check lantern with a mica chimney. In his right hand he carried a heavy bronze key with three notched wards. Behind him, Pella Rook balanced on a row of underwater timber baulks. She held a zinc storage canister and Hal Rook’s brass measuring tongs.
“Watch your footing, Pella,” Korr warned, his breath pluming pale in the underground chill. “The floor flags here have settled four inches to the riverward side. If you drop a canister into this sludge, the silt will coat the thick parchment before you can fish it out.”
The damp wet stonework of the foundation walls was covered in thick mats of gray cave mold and white salt efflorescence. Specks of green copper green rust crusted the bronze hinges of the storage vaults, showing decades of exposure to humid river air. Overhead, the floor beams of the Town Records Office…
