The drizzle finally let up, and the heavy, roiling storm clouds were torn apart by the sharp wind off the river.
Sunlight spilled through the gaps in the clouds, gilding the rippling, glittering surface of the water.
On the rooftop terrace of the control center, Vincent stepped up behind me, carrying a red sandalwood tray.
The tray was lined with bright yellow velvet, holding the chief dispatch seal for the Spencers' three docks, plus the official approval documents for the seven freight lines out of the western suburbs.
"Miss, all the handover procedures are fully completed." He bowed his head slightly in respect. "The old lady just called. The newly docked freighters in the western district are waiting for you to stamp the departure order personally before they set sail."
I picked u
