“Thank you, Avraam. I appreciate it. If I need that kind of expertise, I will ask. There’s a lot to learn, and I appreciate your offer.”
After Pietrsyn had left, Dekkard sipped his café and let his eyes wander, noting that Frieda Livigne and another woman had taken a table equidistant from him and from Ysella. He lowered his head as if looking at his platter, then took a bite of the now-cooler rice, but could tell that the woman with Livigne had glanced in his direction. That occurred several times over the next sixth or so, but Dekkard avoided looking directly near her, even when he left the cafeteria.
Although he was only a few minutes early to meet Obreduur, he stood outside the councilors’ dining room for close to a third of a bell before Obreduur appeared.
“Did anything interesting happen at lunch?” asked Obreduur cheerfully.
“Frieda Livigne and another woman in a security-gray suit with a pin—I’d guess that she’s Councilor Maendaan’s empie—they sat where they could watch both me and Avraal and Svard. I’d tried looking preoccupied. I had the feeling they were watching. Avraal could probably tell you more. Oh … and Councilor Hasheem’s economic aide said hello in passing. He said that his specialty was forestry, and that if he could help me to come see him. I thanked him. He was very apologetic.”
“You never know,” said Obreduur as he turned toward the west doors that led to the courtyard gardens and the covered portico that would take them to the Council Office Building. “You might need his expertise sometime. Or he might need yours.”
“Councilor Hasheem’s on the Security Committee,” replied Dekkard.
“I doubt that Chairman Maendaan is all that forthcoming to Craft councilors or their staff about more than a few Security matters. Now … how are you coming on preparing for the meeting with the Artisans Guild?”
While Dekkard had scarcely had time to handle everything else, let alone do more research on tariffs, he said, “I’ve been over the material several times, and I’ll keep at it.”
“It’s good to know the background, Steffan, but the most important thing is to listen … and to let them know you’re listening. Don’t ever look bored, even if you’ve heard the same tale of woe a hundred times. It’s each person’s tale of woe, and they’re hurting. If you look bored, it tells them that you—and I—don’t care. If you don’t understand anything else, learn that.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We’ll be leaving late this afternoon. Premier Ulrich will run the hearings past the deadline for the evening editions of the newssheets.”
“Will the hearings extend into next week?”
“The Premier hasn’t said, but I’d be most surprised.”
As the two walked out of the Council Hall and into the hot and muggy early-afternoon air that blanketed the courtyard gardens, Dekkard studied not only the shaded portico but the gardens as well, noting the greater number of Council Guards posted along the portico and wall.
“There were more guards in the gardens today,” he said casually as they climbed the main staircase to the second level.
“The Premier is concerned about the New Meritorists. Apparently, you weren’t the only one who noticed that they carried semi-automatic pistols with large magazines. Or perhaps what his aide ‘overheard’ prompted an inquiry, and he didn’t like the response.”
“Should I have been less overheard?”
“No. Sooner or later, it would have come out. This way he also knows that other councilors knew before he did, and that might make him less … impetuous.”
As the two neared the office, Obreduur said evenly, “You might concentrate on those letters and petitions, since you won’t have as much time next week.”
“Yes, sir.”
Even without Obreduur’s suggestion, that would have been Dekkard’s plan, even if that meant dealing with a petition about adverse work conditions created by the placement of a swine waste impoundment pond … and several less odious requests.
Ysella and Roostof didn’t return to the office until almost fifth bell.
“That was a long hearing,” observed Dekkard dryly.
“That’s because Premier Ulrich wanted to finish them off this week,” replied Roostof. “Supposedly so that the Council can spend the last weeks before Summerend break on supplemental appropriations.”
“I thought all the appropriations were finished by last Fallend.”
“That was five months ago, and priorities change,” returned Roostof.
“Especially with the Security Ministry asking for more resources to deal with the New Meritorists and more military funding to patrol the Sargasso Archipelago because of the pirate attacks on Commerce merchanters,” said Ysella.
“All of which is very convenient for the Commercers,” said Macri from the door to the side office. “Svard … I need you for a few moments.”
Ysella turned to Dekkard. “And how was your lunch?”
“About the same as yours. Do you know who was with Frieda Livigne?”
“She’s an empath. Her name is Iferra Vonacht. She’s strong and well-shielded. They were observing both of us.” Ysella smiled.
“Why, do you think?”
“They’re as much a part of the Security Ministry as they are committee staffers. There’s almost no difference. Councilor Obreduur has given both of us additional duties. When security aides get other duties, especially aides to a strong Craft councilor, at a time when the Commercers’ margin of control of the Council is lessening…”
“… they worry,” finished Dekkard. “I suppose I can see that, but it seems a little excessive.” Actually, to Dekkard, it seemed more than just a little excessive.
“Security Ministry types worry about anything that might change the way things are, and the way to stop change is to watch the little changes that might lead to larger changes … and then act before that happens.”
Dekkard could see the logic of that, but her calm assessment bothered him.
“By the way,” added Ysella, “you do that distracted and musing look rather well.”
“Do I thank you … or is that the prelude to learning what else I should do?”
“No prelude this time. It looked very natural.”
Dekkard grinned. “That’s because it was. With everything going on, I am feeling swamped and distracted. I just let a bit of it show.”
“That’s the best way.”
“Oh … Councilor Hasheem’s forestry aide offered help to me. Hasheem told him I’d be doing economics as well as security. Apparently, the councilor passed that on to Hasheem when they met.”
“He didn’t waste any time letting other councilors know,” said Ysella thoughtfully.
Dekkard had a good idea what she was thinking, because he’d thought the same thing. Why did Obreduur pass on a change in the duties of his personal staff? Most councilors couldn’t have cared less about the duties of other councilors’ staffers.
Perhaps to make Dekkard more credible? That made little sense, either. But one thing Dekkard did know was that Obreduur did nothing without a reason.
He thought about getting back to drafting more responses, but at that moment, Obreduur stepped out of his office and said cheerfully, “It’s time to close up. You’ve all already been here too long.”
Dekkard was willing to agree with that.
24
AFTER driving the councilor back to the house and eating a quick dinner, Dekkard and Ysella accompanied the family to services at the Trinitarian chapel. Once services were over and Dekkard had garaged the Gresynt, he began his usual nightly inspection and servicing of the steamer, only to find Ysella in the garage watching him.
“Why…?”
“… am I here? You might recall that Obreduur suggested that we not do things alone for the immediate future. Tomorrow … I had planned to visit Emrelda. Would you like to come?”
Dekkard’s immediate reaction was to say “of course,” but he hesitated. “I’d like that very much, except I wouldn’t w
ant to be an imposition … on you … or them.”
“I doubt you’ve ever been an imposition.”
Dekkard laughed. “Don’t tell my sister that. She’d disagree … vociferously.”
“I imagine she has a mind of her own.”
Thinking about Naralta’s determination to set up her own studio, Dekkard nodded. “And then some.”
“Our sisters seem to share that characteristic.” Ysella paused. “Then you’ll come? I’m not imposing on your good nature?”
“I still feel like I’m imposing…”
“You’re not. By now, you should know that I’d tell you.”
“Politely, but firmly,” agreed Dekkard. “What time tomorrow?”
“Third bell?”
“That sounds good.”
“Then I’ll see you at breakfast.”
“You’re not going out tonight, I hope.”
“After what I said to you? Hardly. I’m behind on my letters to family, and I could use a little more sleep. What about you?”
“When I finish with the steamers, I need to exercise, here, then practice with the knives.”
Ysella hesitated, then said, “Most security isolates don’t carry knives. I’ve wondered…”
Dekkard smiled wryly. “You’ve been kind. Most security instructors think throwing knives are a waste of time or target toys. They’re only really effective fairly close … and that’s if you’re very, very good and can hit the few points that will stop or slow an attacker. I think I’m better than most, but I’ve never had to use them for real. So … why do I carry them? Because they’re an additional weapon. Also, they’re a weapon I can practice on my own.”
“That makes sense.”
“I didn’t answer your other question. After I practice, I need to write some letters, and then study a certain book. Someone emphasized the necessity of such study.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Not exactly … but you didn’t have to utter a word.”
“After working together for almost two years, I’d hope so. Good evening.” With a parting cheerful smile, she turned and left the garage.
Two years. At times, it seemed like only weeks, and at other times, it felt as though he’d done nothing else for far more than a mere two years.
He returned to wiping down the larger Gresynt, his thoughts going back over the events of the past month or so … since the attempted empblast assassination attempt on Obreduur. The events involved members of each of the three political parties. First had come the Kraffeist Affair, involving appointees of the Commerce government. Next, if what Macri had said was correct, Freust had been poisoned, and he had been a Landor councilor, trying to expose what was behind the Kraffeist Affair. Then Obreduur had been attacked, although he hadn’t seemed to be doing anything at all …
Seemed … but it’s clear he’s doing something, especially if “Sr. Muller” is who you think he might be. Then someone shot at you, and later two people followed you and Ysella and tried to cause trouble.
Dekkard still couldn’t figure where the New Meritorists fit in, because it was clear Obreduur had no use for them, nor, apparently, did anyone in any of the political parties, nor did anyone in the Security Ministry.
And Mathilde Thanne, the security empie of a Crafter councilor, was missing and likely dead, because security empies just didn’t wander off forgetfully … and Premier Ulrich’s isolate had been the one to inform Dekkard. And all the Security Committee staff knew about Dekkard’s promotion, and two of them had been studying him and Ysella during the Kraffeist hearings.
Dekkard doubted that anyone was interested in him personally, and that meant, as he’d suspected for several weeks, that it was all about Obreduur and what he was doing as political leader of the Craft Party.
So why are the Commercers so concerned when they could still control the Council, if with Landor support?
Given that he had no answer, when he finished with the steamers, he headed upstairs.
At least he could answer his mother’s letter and write one to Naralta as well, since he hadn’t been all that diligent in that aspect of his correspondence. Writing those missives would also keep his mind off questions he couldn’t answer, and ones that he hoped that Ysella could shed some light on tomorrow—once they were somewhere secure from eavesdroppers.
25
ON Findi morning Dekkard wore a plain gray shirt to breakfast, seeing no reason to risk staining the new barong he intended to don after eating for the excursion to Emrelda and Markell’s house. As soon as he entered the staff room, he glanced around, but no one was there. He immediately picked up Hyelda’s copy of Gestirn in hope of a story on the hearings.
There was, and he immediately started reading, focusing on the key details.
Premier Ulrich confirmed that the government has filed criminal charges against Eastern Ironway, seeking more than a million marks in damages and reparations to the Imperial Navy for excessive coal purchase charges … Ministry of Public Resources also voided the Eshbruk Naval Coal Reserve lease on the grounds that it had been obtained through fraud … three legalists at the Ministry of Public Resources have been fired for failure to follow the rules of due diligence … Sealed charges have also been filed against Eduard Graffyn, the missing Director of Logistics at Eastern Ironway …
Other sources indicate that, rather than face another hearing and possible disciplinary action, Admiral Gorral has taken immediate retirement …
… Former Minister of Public Resources Kraffeist did not respond to requests for comments … nor did Elwood P. Drood, Presidente of Eastern Ironway …
“What are you looking at?” asked Ysella, coming up beside Dekkard.
“The Gestirn story about the hearings. It’s all done. Sealed, signed, and delivered … except Eastern Ironway got off with a million-mark slap on the wrist, and blame for almost everything was laid on Graffyn, who’s conveniently missing. There’s no mention of Grieg or whoever at Eastern really profited, and no mention of the twenty-thousand-mark commission or bribe.” Shaking his head, Dekkard handed the newssheet to Ysella and waited while she read it. He also noted that she was wearing a worn set of security grays.
When she finished, she looked at Dekkard. “I’m surprised they printed as much as they did. They had to have run the story by someone in the Security Ministry.”
“Maybe Ulrich thought that was the minimum that would allow the whole mess to die away.” Dekkard paused. “I would have thought the New Meritorists would have demonstrated more over this.”
“They’re more interested in what they see as true reform. To them, the Kraffeist Affair is just what happens when individual councilors aren’t held responsible … as if the accountability they desire would make the slightest difference in the long run.”
“It would have to make some difference, or Obreduur wouldn’t be all that opposed to it.”
“Oh … it would, and we can talk about it later. I need some café.” She smoothed the newssheet and replaced it on the side table. Then she moved to the table, filled her mug, and sat down.
Dekkard repressed a sigh when he saw that he’d have to endure tomato jelly for yet another breakfast. He filled his mug with café and settled across from Ysella. “Did you and Emrelda have anything special planned?”
“Nothing in particular.” Ysella smiled. “She did say that you were welcome any time. She likes you.”
“I’m curious. Is it just my imagination, or did both of you quietly rebel against growing up in the Landor daughter mold?”
Ysella laughed softly. “You are so polite and circumspect when you ask questions about my background.”
“What you’re saying is that I’m not quite indirect enough, but only gently intrusive.”
“I can tell you come from a family of strong women. And, yes, neither of us wanted to grow up to be intellectually bright broodmares whose every thought needed to be supportive of or subservient to a Landor male. Father just had to put all
his hopes in Cliven.”
“Because he’s more traditional?”
“He’s not only much younger, but quite stolidly conservative. He’s even named after our very conservative grandfather—Cliven Mikail Ysella. Cliven’s always very sweet to us, if in a disappointed way. And we’re quite sweet to him and particularly to Fleur. Not that we see either of them more than a few times a year.”
“Winter holiday?”
“Only if they come here or we meet elsewhere. And sometimes during the Council’s Summerend recess.”
At that moment, Rhosali entered the staff room, wearing a long-sleeved filmy orange shirt over bright purple trousers. Her eyes went from Dekkard to Ysella. “Gray is boring, especially on endday.”
“We’ll lighten up later,” replied Dekkard.
“Or add some color,” said Ysella.
“Don’t you find it boring to wear gray every day?”
“You wear the same white apron and blue dress every day,” said Dekkard.
“But blue and white aren’t boring. Gray is.”
“Gray is useful,” replied Ysella. “It’s better not to stand out in what we do.” She took a small bite of her croissant.
Dekkard halved the croissant and used the knife to spread the tomato jelly, before reassembling the croissant and taking a healthy bite.
Conversation for the short remainder of breakfast was minimal.
Once Dekkard returned to his room, he donned the rich blue new barong, the one that Ysella had persuaded him wasn’t excessively flamboyant, over pale gray trousers, then added the personal truncheon, not obvious under the barong, and finished readying himself before heading downstairs and out to the covered portico. He was slightly surprised that he arrived first, but he only had to wait a few minutes before she arrived, impeccably attired in a linen summer suit that was a slightly darker shade of blue than his barong, along with a matching leather handbag, matching gloves, and a near-transparent headscarf—also matching.
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