Brin disliked the room Tavin had chosen for the relay.
It was dry, which was good. It had a door wide enough for two people carrying cases, which was better. It also had one high window and a deep corner behind the shelves where a tired dispatcher could lose a message for a week without moving anything large.
Tavin stood in the doorway while he considered it.
“You’ve been here one night.”
“The corner was bad all night.”
“It’s a room, Brin. It hasn’t personally delayed anyone yet.”
Brin set a case in the corner, placed an empty basket in front of it, and stepped back. Tavin looked at the invisible case, sighed, and went to fetch a hammer.
They moved the shelves before breakfast.
