Daniel cleared his throat, swallowing his next intended comment with the phlegm. The justification for Lasowski's behavior was that "young Leary is a hothead who can't hold his tongue." No point in providing supporting evidence.
"The secretary's a Martino of Ulm," he said instead. "A very cultured fellow and handsome in his way. But not RCN."
Mundy ignored the implications either out of disinterest or because she thought the discussion would be painful to her visitor. She walked down an aisle of quite practical width, gesturing to the new shelves.
"Leary," she said, "I wouldn't have believed it was possible in this length of time. I've cleared a third of the boxes off the floor. I truly believe that in a few days I'll be able to start the rough sorting. I thought . . . I didn't think . . ."
She turned to face him. "Lieutenant Leary," she said, stiff as a statue with the light of the north windows behind her, "when we first met my behavior was unworthy of a citizen of Cinnabar, let alone a Mundy of Chatsworth. I offer you my sincere apologies—and my hand, if you'll take it."
She held out her hand. Daniel reached for it with both of his, then realized he held the handkerchief with his prize in his left.
They shook right-handed. Mundy's flesh felt like ivory, dry and firm. "I saw nothing in your behavior that in any way discredited one of the great houses of the Republic," he said. "And, ah . . . When I was growing up on Bantry I was Mister Leary to my tutors, but always Daniel to the other children on the estate. My friends."
Mundy smiled without humor. "Mistress Boileau calls me Adele," she said. "I've always called her `Mistress Boileau' or `professor.' I'm not used to first names for other people."
She gave Daniel a glance that he thought was wistful. "I'm willing to try, though," she added.
"Good, good," Daniel said warmly. They'd covered the subject to an adequate degree. In a conscious effort to sheer away from embarrassment he went on, "And now you can help me, if you will. The natural history database aboard the Aglaia is regional and only hits the high points of individual worlds, so to speak. I want to know what this is."
He set the handkerchief on a box and opened the corners, darting his thumb and finger in to catch a leg of the trapped creature before he completely uncovered it. It was the size of his thumb and had four legs like all Kostroman insects. Briefly it unfurled dull wings, then folded them back onto its carapace. The creature's only touches of color were the violet beads pulsing to either side of the neck.
"They live under water on tidal flats," Daniel explained. "The purple color is gills that they spread out on the mud. They lure sucker fish in for dinner by looking like patches of algae."
He grinned broadly. "Supplying dinner, not eating, that is. But when the pools dry, they fly into trees and wait for the tide to come in again. They're triphibious, and I've never seen the like before."
Adele seated herself at the working data console. "Give me keywords," she said as she typed. "Insect, water and air living, fish-eating—what?"
"Family Barchidae," Daniel said. "That's a guess, but reasonable from the wing structure."
"If you told me the thing's name was Thomas . . ." Adele said with a faint smile. She continued to adjust her controls. "I wouldn't question it. The only interest I have in bugs is when I find them in my apartment; which, I regret to say, is more often than not."
As she worked, Daniel cleared his throat. He hadn't any good reason to be upset, but . . .
"I am wearing a uniform," he said, returning to Adele's first comment in the corridor. "This is a utility uniform, perfectly proper for an officer who's not expected to formally represent the RCN to civilians or members of other military forces."
He plucked the loose, gray fabric. It probably did look like pajamas, but he had only one 2nd Class uniform—and the Full Dress, which wasn't paid for, God knew how he'd do that, and which he'd had tailored for him because he was sure he'd need it for formal receptions on Kostroma.
Daniel cleared his throat. "I've been chasing life at the harbor's edge and I thought these were more suitable. . . ."
Lasowski would skin him alive if she knew he'd been wearing utilities in public whatever the technical wording of the regulations. There wasn't much chance the admiral would learn since she seemed barely conscious that Daniel was alive, but . . . In any case, Adele hadn't had any intention of probing a sore point with her remark.
"Huh," she said. "That's odd. From the address this should be a sermon file in the headquarters of the Established Church."