Tavin came back from ground with a courier case and an expression Iven could not read.
He put the case on the clinical desk, took off his damp outer coat and asked where Sera could be found. The duty attendant went to tell her. Iven stayed beside the desk while Tavin unfastened the weather cover.
“Bad journey?”
“Good journey. That’s part of the trouble.”
He laid his receiving receipt beside the case. He and Brin had crossed in the morning interval, registered under their own names and taken their places in the full living account. Tavin had done a receiving-side handover with Elian. Brin had stayed to work the ground dispatch board, where the incoming messages arrived in a different order and the names on Mercy’s sheets acquired tired faces at the door.
“He looked pleased,” Tavin said. “Trying not to. I told him the board didn’t need a man standing straighter than his spine allowed.”
Iven smiled.
“Did that help?”
