Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Engaard Engineering. It’s certainly not small, but it’s not huge, either, from what Markell has said.”

  Dekkard couldn’t say he’d ever heard of it.

  Two blocks later, they turned west on Florinda Way, taking the sidewalk on the north side of the street.

  “Her house is the third one down.”

  The third dwelling was more than a mere house, but less than a mansion, as were all the others Dekkard had passed in Hillside. It was also set back and on a low rise, and Dekkard followed Ysella up the score of steps that paralleled the drive leading to a covered portico on the east end of the house.

  Even before Ysella reached the shade of the sheltered front entry, the door opened, and a slightly older version of Ysella appeared, although she wore a teal skirt and blouse, and had light brown hair, and stood just a touch taller than Ysella. “Is this Steffan?”

  “It is. Steffan, this is my sister Emrelda. Emrelda Ysella Roemnal, if we’re being proper, which is seldom.”

  “Come in … just come in. It’s almost like summer out here. The back veranda is much more comfortable.” Emrelda closed the front door after Dekkard stepped into the front hall, then gestured toward the rear of the dwelling.

  As Dekkard followed the sisters, he took in the spacious front parlor on the right, across the center hall from the library or study. Then, on the right was another hall leading to the door serving the covered portico and the drive, while on the left was the staircase to the upper level. The dining room was next on the right opposite the kitchen, with a small separate breakfast room behind the dining room. The furniture was all in the simpler modern Imperial style.

  As the three stepped out onto the roofed veranda with its polished flagstone tiles, a tall blond man rose from a white wicker chair with deep rose cushions. He wore a silver guayabera, with a narrow trim of Veerlyn blue, and offered a polite but not effusive smile.

  “Markell, this is Steffan Dekkard. He’s the colleague of Avraal’s that we’ve talked about before.”

  Markell inclined his head. “It’s good to see you. I was beginning to think you might be fictional.”

  “He’s quite real,” declared Ysella. “He’s just rather retiring and cautious.”

  “Like someone else we know,” replied Markell, gesturing to the other wicker chairs spaced roughly around a low white wicker table.

  “Until she lets you know her better,” added Emrelda, who remained standing as the others seated themselves. “Would you like a cold drink?” She smiled at her sister.

  “Markell actually got you one of the coal-gas coolers?”

  “He did.”

  “I thought we should try one out,” said Markell. “I’m not one for freezing lager, but other foods keep better, and I wanted to see how it worked before I recommended one to any of our clients.”

  “It’s in the rear pantry,” added Emrelda.

  “You can have regular lager or chilled lager,” Markell offered, looking at Dekkard. “It’s Kuhrs. That’s the best we can get here in Machtarn, not like Nargonst or Riverfall, but you can’t get either unless you go to Uldwyrk or Oersynt.”

  “Chilled, thank you.”

  “And you want the Silverhills white?” Emrelda asked Ysella.

  “Please. Can I help you?”

  Emrelda shook her head. “Just cool off in the shade. Markell … tell them about your latest project.” Then she turned and headed back inside.

  “We’re building a new facility for the Navy outside Siincleer. It’s going to be the largest such facility in Nordum, possibly in the entire world.”

  “What will this facility do?”

  “No one is saying. One part requires thick reinforced walls. The other part has to do with lenses and mirrors. I’m just guessing, but I think they want to focus sunlight to a point hot enough and small enough to do precision cutting.”

  “Is that even possible?” asked Dekkard.

  Markell shrugged. “It’s possible to use lenses and mirrors to set wood and coal aflame, and I’ve seen crafters use lenses to concentrate light to burn-etch wood. Theoretically, if you built a parabolic mirror big enough and perfectly shaped and aligned you could cut through iron.”

  “Why hasn’t anyone done it?” Ysella looked intently at her brother-under-law.

  “No one has the ability to build anything that big or that accurate. Also, what would be the point? There are easier ways to cut metal.”

  “Then why are they going to build this facility?” asked Dekkard.

  “Those questions we don’t ask. Just like no one asks how your councilor voted. We just design the building to the specifications the Navy requires.”

  At that moment, Emrelda returned with a tray holding two beakers and two wineglasses.

  “You obviously share one characteristic with Avraal,” said Markell with a hint of amusement in his voice.

  Ysella exchanged a quick glance with her sister, but neither spoke as Emrelda finished setting the drinks on the table in front of each of the others, then seated herself.

  That left Dekkard with the need to make some response. “And what might that be?”

  “You both have greater abilities than required by the standards for your positions.”

  “You said that so diplomatically, Markell,” commented Ysella dryly. “Just like a councilor. Have you thought of offering your services to your party?”

  “As I’ve informed you before, the Commerce Party avoids candidates who have a record of building or accomplishing things. Just as the Craft Party avoids those who think too deeply. Besides, I can’t swallow all of any party’s line.”

  “What about the Landor Party?” Dekkard asked.

  “They want councilors who’ve never done anything and never thought about anything new or different.” Markell lifted his beaker and took a small swallow of lager.

  Dekkard followed his host’s example, then asked, “Do you handle more of the engineering or the design work?”

  “I’m an engineer working as a designer who also makes sure that the architect and the engineer both understand the other’s requirements and limitations.”

  “Because architects want the design to be beautifully functional and the engineers want it to last forever regardless of how it looks?”

  “It’s more complicated than that…”

  “No, it’s not,” interrupted Emrelda in an amused tone. “What’s complicated is getting them to agree. And you’re good at making a concept into a plan that’s a working design, and also bringing everyone together.”

  “Then you’re the project director, or something like that?” asked Dekkard.

  “I don’t have that title, but in practice I’m the one who keeps looking over the contractors’ shoulders. Engaard Engineering is organized along projects, and each engineer in charge of a project reports directly to Halaard Engaard himself. We don’t have the hierarchical structure of most corporacions. That’s why we can compete with the bigger engineering corporacions like Siincleer Engineering or Haasan Design.”

  “Compete with?” said Emrelda. “They can’t really compete with you without losing marks, and you’re among the best. That’s why we can live here.”

  “Even if…” began Markell.

  “We’re not going there, dear,” declared Emrelda firmly.

  Markell smiled, an indulgent expression that suggested he’d heard those words more than once before. “Then where do you suggest we go, my lady?”

  “Anywhere but there.”

  “What are we having for our midafternoon dinner, then?” asked Markell.

  “We’re having creamed noodles with lamb, as you well know, because it’s one of Avraal’s favorites.”

  “We thought about sautéed lentils and onions,” said Markell.

  “You thought about it. I thought about cold roasted pheasant.”

  The comments about lentils and pheasant confirmed Dekkard’s previous suspicions that the sisters came from a Landor family, but most likely f
rom one of those less wealthy. Either that, or they both were strong-willed and rebellious. But then, Avraal is strong-willed enough that she could have come from even a wealthy Landor family. But Dekkard wasn’t about to ask that question, especially since Markell most likely did not, unless he was the youngest son of many. Instead, Dekkard looked to Markell and said, “You must have considerable aptitude in both engineering and design. Besides the obvious requirement of hard work, how did you achieve what you have?”

  Markell smiled, if faintly, before replying. “Avraal said that you were perceptive. Let’s just say that…” He paused, then went on. “Even today, for a highly talented student from a modest background to achieve notice requires skill in more than one field of study. I saw that from the beginning. Since I was more modestly talented, it took, as you observed, a great deal of effort to obtain two firsts from the Imperial College of Engineering.” Another smile followed. “Possibly not quite as much effort as for an isolate to graduate from the Military Institute as one of the Triumphing Ten.”

  Ysella looked to Markell questioningly.

  “You didn’t know that?” asked the architect, who turned his gaze back on Dekkard. “You’ll pardon me for making certain inquiries, but when the sister of one’s wife keeps mentioning a coworker…” He shrugged.

  “You were naturally protective,” Dekkard responded. “That’s understandable. I always wanted to know about the people my sister associated with.”

  “Is she older or younger?” asked Emrelda.

  “Older.”

  “You were the inquisitive younger brother, then?” said Emrelda.

  “More the quiet observing type that unnerves young men, I suspect,” commented Ysella.

  “I’d agree with Avraal,” added Markell.

  Dekkard offered a sheepish grin.

  “Enough of families,” said Emrelda. “You two work for a councilor. What do you think about the Kraffeist Affair, Steffan?”

  “The councilor hasn’t ever mentioned it to me,” replied Dekkard.

  “Nor to me,” added Ysella.

  “But what do you think about it? Minister Kraffeist has been accused of illegally leasing part of the Naval Coal Reserve to Eastern Ironway, and now the director of logistics for Eastern has disappeared without a trace.” Emrelda kept looking at Dekkard.

  “There’s been nothing in the newssheets about a missing director,” said Ysella. “How did you find that out?”

  “All the patrol stations in Guldor have been given sketches of him,” replied Emrelda. “Our station got one by messenger yesterday afternoon. All it says is that Eduard Graffyn, a director at Eastern Ironway, is missing and that any information about him should be immediately dispatched to the Minister of Security … and that the patrol was not to mention the matter to the newssheets.”

  “Do you think he’s the one who sent that letter to the Premier and Imperador … and to all the councilors and newssheets?” asked Dekkard.

  “Who else could it be?” asked Markell.

  “That makes the situation more serious,” replied Dekkard. And Minz’s mention of coal quality just might tie in to all of that, even if Dekkard had no idea how.

  Markell offered a short amused laugh. “Now you’re the one sounding like a councilor.”

  “Except he’s right,” said Ysella. “Even a director doesn’t have unrestricted access to the level of funds supposedly paid for that commission—”

  “Bribe,” interjected Markell. “We might as well call it what it is.”

  “I don’t know even as much as you apparently do, Emrelda,” said Dekkard, “but it appears to me that Director Graffyn is fleeing for his life because he knows too much about what actually happened. The question isn’t why he disappeared, but why he waited.”

  “I’d wager he didn’t wait,” said Markell. “He likely disappeared earlier, and since Eastern Ironway can’t find him, they’ve dragged Security into it.”

  “That makes sense,” said Emrelda. “That would explain why the Security Ministry is circulating sketches here in Machtarn and trying to keep it quiet. Graffyn would be in danger if he stayed near Eastern’s main office in Neewyrk, and his best hope would be to get to Machtarn so that he could reveal what he knows before someone kills him.”

  “Unless he’s already dead,” pointed out Markell.

  “Neither of you has heard anything?” asked Emrelda.

  Both Dekkard and Ysella shook their heads.

  “I was so hoping you knew something else. It would have been so exciting.” Emrelda sighed. “Now we’ll have to talk about something much more mundane…”

  And while the conversation for the next bell was more mundane, ranging from the weather to the best lamb dishes besides Ysella’s favorite and the local controversy about extending the omnibus route another three milles east of Erslaan, Dekkard nonetheless enjoyed it, as well as the chilled Kuhrs lager … and later the creamed noodles and lamb, followed by a flan vanille, and then a round of Keisyn, a clearly expensive lemon liqueur that he’d heard of but never tasted.

  All too soon, it was late afternoon, and Emrelda said, “I’ll drive you two all the way back to the councilor’s mansion.”

  “You don’t have to—” began Ysella.

  “I want to. Besides, Markell has some work to do, and it will go faster if I’m not around. You two just go wait by the portico door. I’ll meet you there with the Gresynt.”

  When the two reached the east side entrance to the house and stood under the extended roof waiting, Dekkard’s eyes were caught by the sight of a boy hurrying out of the neighboring house. The child was not even halfway down the front steps when a woman appeared on the top step.

  “Tomas! Turn around and come here.”

  The boy stopped as if he had run into an invisible wall, then turned and began to walk back up the steps, without hesitation.

  Dekkard looked at Ysella. “Either she’s a strong empie or he’s a susceptible.”

  “He’s a sussie, and she’s a low-level empie.”

  Dekkard shook his head. The very thought of being a susceptible who could be ordered around by any empie chilled him, even though as an isolate he wasn’t in the slightest susceptible.

  “It could be worse,” said Ysella, a trace of bleakness in her voice.

  Dekkard knew that was definitely so because sussies were effectively banished from Argental and turned into near-mindless slaves in Atacama … and treated even worse in Sudlynd and Sargasso. Even in Guldor, where the only legal restriction on them was lack of suffrage, their lives tended to be limited economically and socially. To say the least.

  At that moment, Emrelda guided her Gresynt up to the side entrance. The teal-colored steamer was the same model as the six-seater used by Ritten Obreduur, but it stood out with the brighter paint, whereas the darker shade of the Obreduurs’ steamers made them almost indistinguishable from most other steamers, given that most Guldorans with the marks to buy and operate a steamer tended to be conservative in the colors with which they surrounded themselves.

  “Are you sure this isn’t an imposition?” Dekkard asked Emrelda as he opened and held the front passenger-side door for Ysella.

  “Almighty, no,” declared the older sister. “I don’t bother Markell, and I get to spend more time with you two.”

  “Particularly your sister,” said Dekkard as he closed the front door and opened the rear passenger door before stepping inside, seating himself, and shutting the steamer door.

  “You’re part of her life.”

  “You definitely are, Steffan,” added Ysella.

  Dekkard couldn’t dispute that, and, as Emrelda eased the steamer down the drive, he scanned the interior of the Gresynt, quickly noting the leather upholstery and the roll-down windows that marked the vehicle in the general cost category of Obreduur’s steamer, and that didn’t include the teal exterior finish, which had to have been specially ordered. “I’ve never seen another teal steamer, especially a Gresynt.”

&nbs
p; “You likely never will,” replied Ysella. “I had to persuade a few people so that Emrelda could even order it.”

  “After that,” added Emrelda, “the Gresynt management decided it might be better to claim it was a marketing test.”

  Dekkard could see that.

  “I asked Markell if he wanted his next steamer in Veerlyn blue,” added Emrelda. “He demurred, much as he’s partial to it. He prefers more subtle statements. His gray Gresynt is practically invisible. In that way, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re much the same, Steffan.”

  “Somewhat,” said Ysella.

  “I’d judge that subtlety is necessary in what Markell does.”

  “And it’s not in what you and Avraal do?”

  Both Ysella and Dekkard laughed.

  Almost a third of a bell later, Emrelda stopped her steamer in front of the closed gates of the Obreduur house. She turned to look at Dekkard. “I do hope Avraal will let us see more of you.”

  “That’s up to Steffan … and our duty schedule,” replied Ysella.

  “Thank you very much,” said Dekkard, “for your hospitality, an excellent dinner, and for driving us back.”

  “You are cautious, but it becomes you,” said Emrelda.

  “He is, and it does,” said Ysella. “I’ll send you a message when we know more.”

  Dekkard opened his door and got out of the teal Gresynt. Ysella emerged before he could open her door. The two watched as the Gresynt glided away almost silently through the twilight.

  As they walked toward the pedestrian gate at the side of the closed drive gates, Dekkard turned to Ysella. “You never actually said it, but you and Emrelda come from an old and established Landor family, don’t you?”

  “Old and established, but not that well-endowed financially,” replied Ysella. “There’s more than enough for our brother, but every year it costs more to maintain the lands.” She paused. “You didn’t ask much of Markell … or about him.”

  “He didn’t volunteer enough for me to ask any more than I did.” Dekkard opened the gate, then followed Ysella through and closed it behind himself.

  “Still the cautious one,” she replied with a smile. “I’m very glad you abandoned a little of that caution and decided to accompany me today.”