So … when he got in the steamer, he placed the gladius on the floor behind his seat. That way he was technically in compliance.
As soon as Obreduur entered the steamer, he said, “I’ve had no word on the assassin. I won’t hear anything until later today … if then.” The councilor was politely telling them not to ask.
As Dekkard headed down the drive, he saw that Ysella was especially alert, and he decided to follow her example … although neither discerned anyone closely following them.
When Dekkard eased the Gresynt to a stop outside the Council Office Building, there were still extra Council Guards stationed outside, as well as around the covered parking area. One of them looked at Dekkard when he got out of the Gresynt and retrieved the gladius before locking the steamer, but the guard then continued patrolling. Once inside the Council Office Building, Dekkard took the staff staircase and then hurried into the office.
Karola stared at him for a moment, then said, “You look different dressed as a professional staffer.”
“Is that good or bad?” Dekkard asked in a humorous tone.
“You’re … just different. Both of you … when you’re not in security uniforms.”
Dekkard suspected that she meant that they didn’t look quite so intimidating.
Dressed as a professional staffer or not, he still faced a stack of letters, which he began to address immediately, since he only had a little more than a bell before he’d have to depart.
At a third past third bell, he stood to leave for the drive to the Machtarn Guildhall.
“Be careful,” said Ysella quietly. “Especially after you’ve given the talk and are leaving. Most people aren’t as wary after a meeting, especially if it goes well.”
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought of it that way.” And he wouldn’t have, not for himself, although he and Ysella had talked about that in regard to Obreduur. As he walked down the staff staircase, he just hoped that he could be a good listener and a decent stand-in.
Before getting into the Gresynt, he slipped the gladius and its scabbard off his belt and put them behind the seat again.
He didn’t see any steamers following him on Council Avenue, but once he was on Imperial Boulevard heading toward the harbor, the traffic was heavy enough that any steamer could have hung back half a block and he wouldn’t have seen it. He kept checking the mirrors when he turned right off the boulevard and onto the Avenue of the Guilds, toward the river, but saw nothing out of the ordinary for the five blocks that took him to the Machtarn Guildhall, where he eased the Gresynt into an “official business” space.
He moved swiftly from the steamer, locking it, and heading toward the side entrance with the sentry box and a guard. His fingers brushed the grip of his truncheon as he neared the guard.
“Assistant Economic Specialist Dekkard, representing Councilor Obreduur for a meeting with the Artisans Guild,” Dekkard announced.
The guard studied Dekkard, then looked at a sheet posted on the wall. “The meeting’s in 201. That’s up the first set of stairs, up one flight, almost at the end of the hall.”
“Thank you.”
When Dekkard stepped into the building, the corridor immediately before him was empty, except for two men standing beside a small cart at the far end of the hallway. One glanced in his direction and then away. The other looked into the cart. Dekkard took the stairs, ten yards short of the workmen, up to the second level, then turned toward the west end of the building.
A man and a woman were clearly waiting for Dekkard, because both saw him and stepped forward as he neared the end of the hall.
“Sr. Dekkard?” asked the small graying woman.
Dekkard had never thought of himself as more than slightly above average in height, but for some reason he felt as though he towered over her. “That’s right. I’m the assistant economic specialist to Councilor Obreduur. Since everyone else in my family is an artisan, he thought I’d be the best staff assistant to meet with you.”
“That answers one of my questions,” said the man, perhaps a decade older than Dekkard. “What are their arts?”
“My mother and sister are portraitists; my father is a decorative-plaster specialist.”
“You didn’t become an artisan, though?” pressed the man.
“I’d like to think I have the soul and the appreciation, but I definitely don’t have their physical precision, and I didn’t want to be a fifth-rate artisan.”
“That’s an honest answer. By the way, I’m Raoul Carlione.”
“And I’m Verylla Wierre.”
“She’s the assistant guildmeister,” added Carlione.
Dekkard wished Carlione had said what he was, and it was clear he was important, possibly even the guildmeister, but Obreduur had never given the names of those he’d be meeting.
“I’m very glad to meet you both. The councilor told me to place myself at your disposal and to get the full extent of the problem from you.” Dekkard smiled sheepishly, and added, “Before saying much of anything.”
Wierre nodded. “That sounds very much like what Konrad said about him.”
Konrad? Then Dekkard remembered. Konrad Hadenaur, the Sanitation guildmeister. “He said you’d know more than I do, and that my job is to listen and to convey all that information to him so that he can address the problem.”
“What do you know?” asked Carlione.
“I read your petition after the councilor did. I’ve checked the laws. I’ve met with the Council legalist in charge of tariff law. And my parents fled Argental because the laws weren’t good for artisans.”
“That will do for a start,” said Carlione pleasantly, but not either enthusiastically or deprecatingly. He motioned to the half-open door. “This is a small meeting, just most of the senior guild members.”
Since he was supposed to enter first, Dekkard did. A large circular table occupied much of the chamber, a room illuminated solely by the large north widows, although there were unlit lamps in evenly spaced wall sconces. None of the five guild members—four men and a woman—already seated around the table stood.
“Sr. Dekkard is one of Councilor Obreduur’s economic specialists,” said Carlione, “and the one with the most background in matters of artisans and artistry.” He gestured to a vacant chair on the side of the table opposite the middle of the other five, then took the chair to the right of Dekkard, while Wierre took the seat to Dekkard’s left.
“As you know from the guild petition,” began Wierre, “the guild has readied a grievance against the Imperial Tariff Commission. Tariff agents are allowing cheaply produced art to be imported and tariffed as housewares, when the art is of a higher quality and is later sold at a far higher price than the import appraisal price. This is not new, but the number of instances has increased greatly in the last year.”
“The guild realizes,” continued Carlione, “the price of any work of fine art depends on where it is sold and the willingness of a buyer to pay, but to appraise works of fine art as housewares is absurd.”
“Might I ask a question…” Dekkard paused, then went on. “In your petition, you did not specify what types of fine art were being classified as housewares. Is there just one category, or are the tariff agents applying the housewares tariff indiscriminately to sculptures, paintings, tapestries, jewelry, and other arts?”
“So far as we know,” replied Wierre, “the housewares category has been applied only to sculptures, artistic objects, pottery and stoneware—not everyday crockery—paintings, and occasional tapestries.”
“Have you been provided with any reason for this undervaluation?” asked Dekkard.
Carlione snorted. “Such objects aren’t up to the standards of Guldoran artistry so they must only be housewares.”
Dekkard smiled wryly. “And if you say that they are, you’re denigrating the guild’s standards. Is this the action of one or two inspectors or a decision by the head assessor?”
“All of the inspectors are agreeing with the i
dea.”
Dekkard realized that he’d missed asking a key question. The guild members couldn’t have been present at customs inspections and tariff assessments. “How exactly did you find out about this?”
“When the objects started appearing in art shops and galleries, and decorator supply services,” replied Wierre. “It’s taken several months to track all this down.”
“Is it affecting all art, including very expensive and high-quality art objects?”
One of the guild members opposite Dekkard said, “That’s not the problem. You don’t sell truly great art objects that often. The well-crafted lamps, the decorative mirrors, the high-quality serving pieces … that’s what keeps artisans in business on a monthly basis. These so-called houseware imports are just good enough to siphon off enough business to make it hard for solid artisans to keep going.”
“Is one importer bringing them all in?” asked Dekkard.
Carlione laughed, sardonically. “For someone as young as you are, you’re rather cynical. You’re on the right rails, but there are two outfits. One turns out to be a subsidiary of Guldoran Ironway. The other is called Tarn Trading. It has to be a subsidiary of some large corporacion because they’re bringing in large shipments and paying the duties in a lump sum. That’s what our sources know.”
“Are these art objects from any one nation?”
“No, but they’re all shipped on Transoceanic ships,” said Wierre. “They come in large lots. That’s another reason why the tariff assessors claim they’re just housewares.”
“Is there any way to raise the issue with the head of the tariff assessors?”
“That’s another aspect of the problem,” said Carlione. “If I import something, and I think the tariff was unfair, I can appeal it, even take it to the Justiciary, although that would cost more than the tariff. But there’s no direct way to appeal someone else getting a lower tariff. Without specific information, we can’t file a legal complaint before the Justiciary. Only a Council hearing can compel the tariff assessors to disclose those details…”
Dekkard kept listening, asking an occasional question, but after almost a bell, it was clear that the guild representatives were at best offering examples of the same situation. After yet another such example, he said, “I think you’ve made the extent of the problem very clear and the fact that it’s a matter for the councilor to address.”
“How do you think he might address it?” asked Carlione.
Dekkard smiled wryly. “I learned almost as soon as I went to work for him that it was unwise to speculate on how he might deal with anything. He’s often been able to come up with solutions that no one else considered. You’ve given me additional information that will be even more helpful. I will say that matters involving ministries usually take a little time. I wish it were otherwise, as I know you do.”
“You’re not saying that much about what he could do,” said the woman on the far side of the table. Almost testily.
“That’s because he told me specifically not to speculate on what he might do,” replied Dekkard. “Since I work for him, and since I’ve discovered he has a good reason for how and what he asks of me, I’ve found that it’s a good idea to listen and follow his instructions.”
Dekkard’s reply brought the hint of a smile to Wierre’s face, before she and Carlione rose. Dekkard followed their example.
“Thank you for coming, Sr. Dekkard. Please convey our appreciation to the councilor,” said Carlione.
“I will certainly do so.”
Carlione and Wierre escorted him out into the corridor, where Carlione said, “I didn’t want to bring it up in there, but this is a sneak attack on the guild by the Commercers, and it’s getting very effective. If artisans go out of business, our dues go down.”
“I’ll make certain he knows that.”
Before Carlione could say more, Wierre put her hand on his shoulder. “Sr. Dekkard understands.” She turned to Dekkard. “Thank you.”
Dekkard inclined his head, then turned and walked toward the stairs.
As he neared the last steps, he glanced to where the two men had been working. Both remained near the cart. The nearer worker, who stood beside the cart next to the wall, didn’t quite look at Dekkard and then turned and walked toward the door at the west end of the building. The other worker turned and seemed to inspect the wall, but Dekkard could see no sign of any work, or even fresh paint. He walked to the door out into the parking area, then stepped outside and closed the door. He stood there for a minute or so before turning back and easing the door open just wide enough to peer down the corridor.
The other worker was also gone.
Dekkard didn’t much care for coincidences. He immediately hurried past the guard and toward the Gresynt, ready to use the truncheon if necessary. At first, he saw no one near the steamer. Then a figure in nondescript coveralls carrying a satchel appeared from behind several other steamers at the east end of the parking area and walked to a small steam lorry. There he set the satchel in the open bed of the lorry, not looking at Dekkard.
Dekkard judged the distance between the Gresynt and the lorry as almost twenty yards. He kept walking.
The workman didn’t turn or look in Dekkard’s direction until he had almost reached the Gresynt, then turned and almost stared at Dekkard.
Dekkard understood exactly what was supposed to happen, and, after considering using the knives and rejecting that option, in a single fluid motion, drew the truncheon and ran toward the empie. The “worker”/empie whirled and sprinted away. Dekkard immediately stopped and dashed back to the Gresynt, which he entered, and then lit off the burner, glancing around and hoping that no one would start shooting.
Finally, he could start the steamer moving, and he wasted no time leaving the parking area. So far as he could tell, no one followed him.
As he drove back toward the Council Office Building, he considered what had happened. From the two false workers observing him and from the empie trying to attack him, someone had known that an aide of Obreduur’s would be coming. They couldn’t have known who or they wouldn’t have tried to kill or injure him with an empath. Since the higher-up guild members had known who he was, no one in the higher guild levels was likely the source of the information. Because Dekkard was an isolate, he also had no way of knowing how strong the empie was or what the emotion had been behind the projection.
What he didn’t understand, again, was why anyone would attack a mere junior aide. Or had they thought that Obreduur himself or a senior aide might appear?
He was still pondering it all when he stepped into the office, after making his way past the additional Council Guards outside and on the lower level.
“The councilor said he wanted to talk to you immediately on your return,” said Karola even before Dekkard reached his desk.
Dekkard kept walking, then knocked on the door. “Steffan, sir … you asked for me?”
“Come in.”
Dekkard did so, closing the door.
Obreduur gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “What happened?”
Dekkard told him, including the false workmen and the probable empie.
When Dekkard finished, Obreduur asked, “What do you make of it?”
“Someone with wealth and influence has bribed or extorted the tariff assessors. As Carlione said, it’s designed to cut the incomes of artisans, in an effort to reduce the funds available to the guild and weaken it. On a practical funding level, that makes no sense, because it reduces tariff revenues to the government. It also reduces the sales-tax revenues paid by Machtarn artisans. That hurts the government doubly.”
Obreduur nodded. “It does. Who would gain from that?”
“Someone importing a great amount of art objects or someone who wants to break the guilds. Either way that suggests a powerful corporacion or individual. They’d gain by weakening the Craft Party, but if it were traced back to them … and there were a public outcry, then the Imperador might have to d
issolve the Council and call new elections, and it would cost the Commerce Party some seats.”
“You’re assuming there would be an outcry,” pointed out Obreduur.
“If you or any councilor made the point that corporacions were undercutting Guldoran artisans and also not paying duties, while reducing the taxes paid by artisans which meant that roads or waterways don’t get repaired unless taxes are raised … you just might get an outcry.”
“If there were such an outcry and new elections, would we gain enough seats for a plurality? Would enough Landors ally themselves with the Craft Party to form a coalition government?”
“Right now, it’s unlikely.”
“Right now,” agreed Obreduur. “How do you propose I deal with the problem?”
“As a bribery and revenue problem,” replied Dekkard. “Someone is bribing tariff inspectors and assessors, and it’s not only corrupt, but it’s costing the government lost revenues in two ways.”
Obreduur nodded again. “Draft me a letter to Treasury Minister Munchyn laying out both those points with a paragraph suggesting that failure to deal with such an instance right now might have even greater repercussions in the wake of the government’s recent difficulties. Don’t mention what those difficulties were. He’ll understand.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Steffan … the next time an empie attacks … if there is a next time, just take cover. They’ll expect you to attack, and they will shoot, and no one will find the shooter.”
“Why are they attacking me?” Dekkard thought he knew, but he wanted a confirmation.
“Because you work for me … and because you’re part of the future they fear. Now … if you’d get to work on the letter to Munchyn … and another one to Guildmeister Carlione saying that I’m taking steps that I believe will be helpful in addressing the problem and that I’ll keep him informed.”
“Yes, sir.”
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