“Only if the Meritorists win,” replied Ysella. “Only then.”
Dekkard merely nodded.
That night … after climbing into bed, Dekkard looked up at the ceiling in the darkness for a long time before he slept.
30
WHEN Dekkard woke on Quindi morning, for several long moments he wondered just where he was, possibly because he’d been dreaming about trying to protect Obreduur, but found that every time he looked at the councilor, Obreduur’s face changed, and, in the dream, Dekkard began to wonder who he was protecting, and if it was Obreduur at all.
Finally, he sat up. The dream made a sort of sense. It wasn’t that Obreduur had really changed, but the more Dekkard learned about the councilor—and the Council of Sixty-Six—the more his own perceptions changed.
More like those perceptions have been forced to change by events.
Dekkard tried to remember what Obreduur had said about politics, then recalled—“Politics is a combination of bitter reality and necessary illusion.”
In the past few weeks, he’d definitely been given a dose of bitter reality, and he’d definitely had a few illusions shredded. He’d certainly known that each of the political parties had different aims and agendas, and he’d seen early on in working for Obreduur that the Commercers were intent on using their control of government to further their ends. What he hadn’t seen—or experienced—until the last few weeks was their willingness to use means outside of law and government to hold on to control.
Why hadn’t he seen that earlier?
Because for the first time in years, if not decades, the Commercers fear losing power, either to the Craft Party, or even worse, to a revolt spurred by the New Meritorists?
Dekkard shook his head. The Commercers couldn’t even conceive of a revolt being successful, but Dekkard wasn’t so certain. Not when students and others were willing to die for what they believed in. And sooner or later, all the deaths and the repression of that news were bound to get out.
If enough New Meritorists are willing to die.
But if they were … and they kept getting firearms from Atacama … and more and more of them got killed … and the news got out …
Where does that leave you?
Dekkard shook his head again. There’s not much choice. You don’t want the Commercers or the New Meritorists in power. The Commercers would slowly but inexorably turn Guldor into even more of a plutocracy controlled by an even stronger Ministry of Security, and the New Meritorists would turn it into an anarchistic form of mob rule, a government based on what was popular at the moment and which councilors could promise more.
He took a deep breath and stood up. It was past time to get up, shave and shower, and then face bitter reality and necessary illusion … and hope he could tell the difference.
31
WHILE Dekkard began Quindi with resolution and a certain sense of dread, the day turned out to be routine, although the assistant guildmeister of the Stonemasons Guild of Gaarlak did arrive for a short morning meeting with Obreduur. One pleasant occurrence was his monthly pay slip, with the increased amount of his salary that had been deposited in the Council Banque.
Nor did Findi offer anything unforeseen or intriguing, since neither Dekkard nor Ysella was in the mood for adventure, and since Emrelda and Markell were both working. They did go out to dinner at Greystone, but split the bill, and Dekkard did agree that Estado Don Miguel was much better, but also far dearer. Ysella didn’t dispute him on either point.
That routine didn’t change on Unadi, even as the first day of summer, or on Duadi, or Tridi, either. Health Minister Sanoffre or his staff still hadn’t replied to the proposed changes in the Sanitation Guild job descriptions, and Treasury Minister Munchyn hadn’t yet replied to Obreduur’s letter on undertariffing fine art, not that Dekkard would have expected a response from the Treasury so quickly. Obreduur was largely involved in dealing with the routine hearings on the midyear budget adjustments, and Premier Ulrich made no announcements or pronouncements.
When he rose on Furdi, Dekkard didn’t know whether to be relieved that everything had been routinely quiet or worried that something else unanticipated would occur when and where he least expected it. When he reached the staff room, he picked up the copy of Gestirn, but the lead story was about Argenti anthracite-coal producers raising prices, along with speculation that more Guldoran manufacturers would switch to standard hard coal or even brown coal and how that would increase the coal fogs around industrial cities of Guldor.
The only encouraging sign was that Hyelda had replaced the tomato jelly with quince paste, and admonished Dekkard not to be excessive in its use. Hearing that, Ysella had smiled.
On the drive to work, there was no sign of anyone following them, especially in a gray Realto, and no other staffers approached Dekkard on his walk to the office, where the usual stack of petitions and letters awaited him.
Dekkard and Ysella escorted Obreduur to the Waterways Committee meeting, then went back to the office, returned at a sixth before noon and accompanied him to the councilors’ dining room, after which they made their way to the staff cafeteria, where Dekkard chose beef empanadas with verde sauce.
Ysella looked at the verde sauce, shook her head, and asked, “Will you top it off with quince paste?”
He grinned. “I thought about it.”
They took a table for four, since it wasn’t that crowded, and since most of the tables for two were taken. Dekkard glanced around the cafeteria. “It’s not as crowded as usual.”
“Just wait.”
As Dekkard observed over the next few minutes, she was right. He told her so.
“Thank you.” She looked as if she might say more, but then stopped as a woman headed toward them, her tray still in hand as she halted beside Ysella.
Belatedly, Dekkard recognized her as Chavyona Leiugan, the empath for Councilor Zerlyon.
“Avraal … I just found out that you and Steffan were the ones who caught and stopped that New Meritorist empie.”
“I covered our councilor and some others. Steffan caught and restrained her.”
“She slowed the attacker,” said Dekkard. “Otherwise…” He shook his head.
“You two make a good team,” replied Leiugan. “That’s not always so.”
“We’re fortunate,” said Ysella, pausing before she added, “You look like there’s something on your mind, Chavyona.” She gestured to the empty chair beside her. “Join us.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” said Dekkard, even as Ysella nodded.
“Thank you so much. I don’t like eating alone, and since we often have to eat quickly…”
“It’s better to eat with other security types who understand,” finished Dekkard.
Leiugan took a swallow of café, then half turned to Ysella. “You know Arthal … Arthal Shenke?”
“Councilor Hasheem’s empath?” Ysella frowned. “Did something happen to him?”
“Not exactly. He’s leaving the councilor. He’s been offered a position with the Commerce Banque of Sudaen.”
“Is it that surprising when a large corporacion offers more marks, especially if a staffer has a family and children?” asked Ysella evenly.
“He didn’t leave for the marks. He told me that the empie who killed Councilor Aashtaan could have killed him as well, and might have without you being there. He said that he couldn’t keep taking risks like that. His wife’s family is from Sudaen. Don’t you think the offer is a little odd?” Leiugan took a quick bite of her veal milanesia.
Ysella shook her head. “No. It fits. Corporacions like to poach empaths and isolates from Council staffs, especially from Craft staffs. We’re well-trained and underpaid. It also makes matters harder for our councilors.”
“Hasheem’s on the Security Committee. He needs a good empath,” said Leiugan. “He’ll likely have to get someone right out of security training, and they’ll miss things.”
Dekkard understo
od. Even after more than two years, he was still learning.
“Councilor Hasheem could find someone stronger and better.” Ysella glanced at Dekkard.
Leiugan didn’t even catch the glance as she took another mouthful, then said, “Let’s hope so.”
“Have you or Tullyt heard anything else?”
“Not that much. The councilor isn’t too happy with Chairman Palafaux. It’s got to be something to do with the Working Women Guild. She used to be their legalist.”
While Dekkard knew that the Working Women Guild essentially represented masseuses and those working in licensed brothels, he hadn’t known that Councilor Zerlyon had been a guild legalist. “About whether the guild legalists can represent women who aren’t employed by a licensed brothel?”
Both women looked at him.
“We’ve had some inquiries about it. I didn’t handle it, because it’s a legalist’s issue.”
Both Ysella and Leiugan kept looking at him.
“Some of the Security legalists claim that guild legalists can’t represent people in a trade who aren’t guild members, but there are some occupations where you can’t be a guild member unless you’re employed by a licensed business.” Dekkard felt he wasn’t explaining well enough. He paused for a moment, then said, “Artisans don’t have to be licensed, but if they pay dues to the local artisans guild, they’re members of the guild. Construction laborers are the same. If legal issues come up, a guild legalist can represent them. By law, sex workers can’t be guild members unless they work in a licensed brothel or massage parlor. That law was enacted to make sure that sex workers complied with the health codes…”
“You know an awful lot about this…” said Ysella, with the hint of a glint in her eye.
“I didn’t understand. So I asked Svard Roostof to explain it.”
“So a poor girl on the street has no legal protection?” asked Ysella.
“Not really,” replied Leiugan. “They’re at the mercy of the local low justicer.” Then she turned to Dekkard and said, “You explained that better than Morrigan did.”
Dekkard guessed that Morrigan was one of Councilor Zerlyon’s legalists. “I just repeated what Svard told me.”
Leiugan took a last bite of her meal and stood. “I need to be going. Thank you for inviting me to join you.”
“Our pleasure,” said Ysella quickly. Once Leiugan was well out of earshot, she looked at Dekkard. “That business with the street women bothered you, didn’t it?”
“It didn’t seem fair. It also doesn’t make sense. Those women are more likely to comply with the health codes if they’re guild members or if the legalists can help them and talk some sense into them.”
“You still surprise me at times.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to be too predictable. Most isolates have that reputation.”
“Just like empaths are supposed to be too emotional … or have no real emotions?”
“I’ve never thought that.”
“You haven’t.”
“Before we go, I have a question. From what you’ve told me, there aren’t that many empaths as strong as the New Meritorist assassin, are there?”
“Very few,” replied Ysella, “but empaths who feel extremely strongly about something can mount a short and powerful burst. That could have been what happened with the one you restrained. She didn’t feel nearly that powerful afterward.”
“Will hate do that?”
“Hate … or love. Mothers who are empaths have been known to do almost miraculous things if they feel their children are endangered. One stopped a black jaguar with pure emotion, and nothing usually stops a big cat once they’ve started an attack.”
“Some of the New Meritorists have been willing to get shot to make a point. That suggests strong feelings.”
“That could be a real problem,” agreed Ysella, pushing back her chair and standing. “We need to get back to the councilors’ dining room.”
As they headed to wait for Obreduur, Dekkard had the feeling that the rest of the day was going to be much like the past week had been, with no real resolutions to anything and more and more responses to draft.
He was right. For him and Ysella, the remainder of Quindi consisted of escorting Obreduur and drafting responses to letters and petitions, followed by escorting the Obreduur family to and from services at the East Quarter Trinitarian Chapel. The return from chapel was through a warm rain barely more than a drizzle, after which Dekkard donned exercise clothes and worked out, ending up by using his practice knives on the target on the garage wall. Then, as he cooled off, he retreated to his room and took refuge in finishing The Son of Gold.
By the time he finished the book, it was late. He turned off the light and got into bed, still thinking about the book … and why he found it so highly improbable, especially given the amount of overt and direct violence, because from what he’d read and seen, most violence in Guldor was far more often covert.
Except for the New Meritorists. Was it part of their strategy to force the Security Ministry into using more and more overt violence?
Dekkard had the feeling it was.
But how else can you stop the New Meritorists, when they’re willing to die and use as much violence as necessary in order to get a violent reaction?
Exactly the way Security is … by keeping it quiet as possible.
Until they can’t.
Dekkard couldn’t help but wince at what would happen then.
32
DEKKARD wasn’t feeling that much more optimistic on Findi morning, and after he shaved and showered, he dressed in an old and rather worn set of grays. Besides Hyelda, he was the first staffer down for breakfast.
He looked at the copy of Gestirn, but the most interesting bit of news was that the two meisters facing off in the annual tournament to determine the best crowns player in the Imperium had tied yet another game. Not that Dekkard had ever been interested in the tactics of board games, where he had to visualize ten or twenty moves into the future. He’d often said that even thinking about that sort of mental “exercise” gave him a headache, but it was more that nothing in life could be planned out that way, and people who thought it could were invariably disappointed by the messiness in the world.
Shaking his head, Dekkard replaced the newssheet on the side table. He didn’t even look at the croissants when he sat down, but just sipped his café.
“Good morning,” said Ysella cheerfully as she stepped into the staff room, ignoring the newssheet and pouring her café before sitting down across from Dekkard.
“You’re happy this morning.”
“It’s better than glumming around. It isn’t raining, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to be as hot as it was earlier this week. We have the day off.”
“Are you going to see Emrelda and Markell?”
Ysella shook her head. “They went to Hilltown, possibly for a week.”
Dekkard raised his eyebrows.
“That’s where he grew up. His parents died in a fire. Sometimes he needs to go there.”
“She can get off for a week now?”
“She’s a patrol dispatcher, remember. They still have to work during Summerend. So she only gets half her vacation then. She can take the other half whenever she wants, with the approval of the station chief patroller, of course.”
Dekkard nodded and took another swallow of café.
“We need to go shopping.”
“We? I just went shopping.”
“That was three weeks ago. Besides you need two summer suits. If you don’t want to die of heatstroke on our trip to Gaarlak, Oersynt, and Malek, that is.”
Dekkard looked at Ysella questioningly.
“You’ll need summer grays. We can’t wear uniform grays unless we’re on Council property or Council business. The trip to Malek doesn’t qualify, and you can’t carry your long truncheon unless you’re in civilian grays and wearing your staff pin.”
Dekkard knew that. He just hadn’t thoug
ht through going to Malek in the heat of summer.
“I’ll even treat you to lunch if you come with me,” she added.
“You don’t need to bribe me.” Besides, he knew she was right, and moping around wouldn’t make him feel any better. He finally picked up one croissant and put it on his plate, followed by a second, and then by a slightly smaller slice of quince paste than he usually took. “I’d like it if we went shopping.” He grinned sheepishly before saying, “And I will change before we leave.”
Ysella took another sip of café, then said, “You looked depressingly pensive.”
“That’s because I was. I don’t like where either the Commercers or the New Meritorists want to take Guldor, and I have doubts that people will back a Craft premier. For that matter, I don’t see Councilor Haarsfel as the best of premiers. Either Obreduur or Hasheem would do better.”
Ysella laughed softly. “Half the Craft councilors would do better than Haarsfel as premier, but he knows it, just as Volkaar knew Ulrich would be a better premier. Being premier requires a different set of skills than being a floor leader … or perhaps additional skills.”
“Grieg wanted to be dismissed as premier, didn’t he?”
A hint of surprise crossed Ysella’s face. “Why do you say that?”
“Because of the reason he gave for not immediately removing Minister Kraffeist, that there was no evidence that Kraffeist knew anything about the improper coal-reserve lease. Obreduur even admitted that was the worst thing Grieg could have said, and Grieg had never said anything that naïve or stupid before.”
“You never said anything about that earlier.”
“It occurred to me”—if later—“that Grieg was literally telling the truth. He didn’t say that Kraffeist was innocent. He said that there was no evidence. Grieg knew Kraffeist was guilty, but couldn’t prove it, and that was his way of saying it. Admitting that openly would have meant that the leadership of the Commerce Party knew and did nothing. His statement gave the Imperador a way to dismiss him, seemingly for incompetence, although that was only implied, without anyone admitting anything. It also allowed Grieg to avoid charges against Commerce appointees or a thorough investigation. Then Ulrich’s hearings shifted the blame totally on Eastern, some incompetent legalists, and the admiral in charge of logistics. Most likely the legalists had been pressured to approve the lease without any deep scrutiny, or possibly the lease they saw had a different legal description on it. Either way, legalists are more expendable than high corporacion officials or Commerce councilors. And since none of the political parties wanted new elections right now, no one pressed for a more thorough investigation.” Dekkard shrugged.
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