“That’s all?” asked Dekkard.
“There’s also a portable chemical analysis unit.”
Dekkard glanced to Ysella, who gave the faintest of nods, then said, “I wish you success with whatever it is.”
Markell offered a wry smile in return. “I hope I’m wrong, but I’d rather not say anything until I know more.” He turned to Emrelda. “If you need to freshen up, you’d better, because we need to start back to Siincleer. I have a basket with lager and provisions in the Kharlan.”
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” replied Emrelda, handing her keys to Dekkard before turning and walking swiftly toward the Cleft House.
“You’re really worried, aren’t you?” Dekkard asked Markell.
“I’m concerned. I don’t know enough to be worried. That’s why I wanted the equipment. A Navy engineer came to Siincleer with me. I knew weeks ago that he’d be off this endday.”
“Just where in Siincleer is this facility?” asked Dekkard.
“It’s not in Siincleer. It’s in the sandstone hills west of the city. There’s not much around it for several milles.”
“So they don’t want anyone close,” mused Dekkard.
“But no one says why. I asked, and I was told not to ask again.” Markell turned. “I need to get the steamer lit off so that we can leave as soon as Emrelda’s ready.” He moved toward the driver’s side of the Kharlan.
Dekkard did not follow him. Neither did Ysella. Instead, they stood and waited.
Emrelda walked toward them several minutes later, making her way to her sister and taking her hands. “Thank you so much. I can’t tell you what it means.”
Ysella hugged her sister. “You know I’m always here.”
“I know, and I’m always glad.” Emrelda stepped back and turned to Dekkard. “I’m also glad that you came, and that you’ll be with Avraal. I’d better hurry. I can see that Markell’s getting impatient.”
Ysella and Dekkard watched as the white Kharlan pulled out of the parking area heading back toward the city of Point Larmat. Once the Kharlan was out of sight, he looked to Ysella.
“Would you like to eat … or do you want to head back immediately?”
“We both could use a break and some refreshment.”
Dekkard grinned. “That bad?”
“Not that bad, but sometimes Emrelda can be a bit of a strain.”
“I’m no empath—”
“Thank the Three for that,” interjected Ysella.
“… but I think that at times she’s more than a bit of a strain. But you never say much.”
“She’s my sister. I still love her. And I owe her.”
Dekkard frowned. He couldn’t see Ysella as owing anyone.
“I do. She and Markell persuaded the Empath Academy to take me, and they gave me the marks to live on. Father was adamantly opposed. Mother felt that was one of the things that led to his heart attack. He’s never been quite the same since, and neither of us is particularly welcome at home.”
“Because you wanted to use your talent? Because your sister helped you do it?”
“Landor women who are empaths are expected to use the talent to support and burnish their husbands and children. Anything else is considered dishonorable. We can talk more about it while we eat. I am hungry.”
“So am I.”
They walked toward the Cleft House. Dekkard doubted that the dining room would be that crowded, since it was early afternoon. He hoped it wasn’t closed, but thought that unlikely in a sightseeing area. He was right, and less than five minutes later, they were seated at a table on the shaded balcony with both an ocean and a cleft view, waiting for their drinks.
Their server, a dark-eyed, dark-haired young man, returned with Dekkard’s pale lager and Ysella’s Silverhills white wine. “Are you ready to order?”
Dekkard nodded to Ysella.
“The summer chicken with seasonal greens.”
“The veal with capers and lemon, and the greens,” added Dekkard.
Once the server left, Dekkard asked, “How did Emrelda meet Markell?”
“He was the junior engineer when Engaard was rebuilding part of the harbor in Sudaen, and he knew friends of the family. They were attracted to each other. His father was a machinist who had his own shop … before the fire.”
“And she was attracted physically and because of his ability, and he was attracted to and flattered by an attractive Landor girl?”
“Emrelda told him early that if they married she would get nothing from Father, but that she still thought she could help him.”
“I imagine she has … and then some.”
Ysella offered an amused smile. “She has, but he’ll do almost anything for her. They’re good together, and he’s better to her than any Landor would be.”
“They’ve been married a while, then.”
“A little over ten years.” After a moment, Ysella added, “And you’re wondering about children.”
“The thought had crossed my mind.”
“If they decide to have any, there won’t be many.”
“Because she had to take care of you and Cliven?”
“Partly … and partly because she wants to decide, and Markell is totally behind her on that … and most matters.”
“My sister could have said something like that about children, except she’s not married.”
“How much older than you is she?”
“Just four years.”
“Just?” Ysella raised her eyebrows.
“Four years seems like an enormous gap when you’re young, but it’s almost nothing once you’re grown.”
“In some families, perhaps,” replied Ysella.
“So you’re regarded as past the marriageable age, and Emrelda is minimalized because she married a man who was neither wealthy nor a Landor?”
“That’s about right.”
Dekkard shook his head, but didn’t immediately speak because the server returned with their platters.
“We’d better eat,” said Ysella. “Ferry times are farther apart after the sixth afternoon bell.”
Dekkard still waited until she lifted her fork before cutting into his veal and taking a bite, followed by a mouthful of seasoned rice, good, but not outstanding. “How is your chicken?”
“Tender, a little bland. The rice is better.”
“That’s about the same for the veal.” Dekkard took several more mouthfuls. “Emrelda set it up so that there was a strong possibility that I’d want to accompany you, didn’t she?”
“No.” Ysella’s quick smile was bitter before it faded. “She set it up so that it was almost impossible for you not to come, not if I wanted to be honest with you. If I’d even avoided you, that would have been dishonest.”
Dekkard considered that for a moment. “I can see that. I wondered about the timing of the message. So what else do you think is in those cases?”
“Nothing else. Markell’s very worried, but I couldn’t tell why without asking some very pointed questions. I also don’t know enough high science to ask the right questions.”
“His company is only building the structure. That says to me that he either doesn’t think that the building is being built as designed or that the design and specifications are inadequate for what the Navy has in mind. The first possibility would strike me as more worrisome for him.”
“Unless he’s worried about both,” replied Ysella.
“Even if he does, what can he do?”
“Go to the head of the corporacion and tell him. Markell is a fairly senior engineer, but he’d need absolute proof to make such a charge.”
Dekkard almost asked why anyone would knowingly underbuild the design, but instead shook his head. He knew all the possible reasons, all involved with corruption, greed, or incompetence, if not all three.
But why would Markell care so much unless … Unless it was his design. “Let’s hope that he gets everything he needs.”
“And then some,” added Ys
ella.
The two skipped any dessert, and Ysella insisted on paying for both of them.
Dekkard didn’t argue, and they left the dining room and walked swiftly back to Emrelda’s Gresynt. In minutes, they were on the road. Dekkard found a service plaza on the outskirts of Point Larmat, where he topped off both the kerosene and water tanks, before turning north on the coastal highway.
37
THE drive back from Point Larmat took Dekkard and Ysella almost a bell longer, because they had to wait close to a bell for the harbor ferry. They talked mainly about what growing up had been like for each of them, a conversation that, by unspoken consent, did not deal with what Markell and Emrelda might face, their work, or relations with siblings. Dekkard enjoyed learning bits about growing up in a Landor family, and, from what he could tell, she enjoyed snippets of life in an artisan family.
After they reached the Obreduur house and parked Emrelda’s Gresynt out of the way, it wasn’t long before both were in their separate beds.
Dekkard woke slightly earlier than usual on Unadi, disturbed by what sounded like a steamhauler dumping a load. He heard nothing else, but he was awake, and it was close enough to his normal rising that he began his morning routine, his thoughts still occasionally drifting back to Markell and Emrelda. He looked out the window, but saw nothing amiss.
He was the first downstairs, except for Hyelda, and he eased into the kitchen. “Did you hear a loud thump this morning?”
“About a third of a bell ago?” replied the cook. “I did. Didn’t hear anything else though. I didn’t see anything outside.” After a moment, she asked, “Since you’re here, would you mind taking the croissant platter to the staff table and laying the newssheet on the side table?”
“I’d be happy to.” After getting the platter, Dekkard skimmed Gestirn, but found nothing of great interest, until he ran across a small article buried at the bottom of the fourth page. Health and Education Minister Sanoffre had issued a regulation barring the admission of students to government-funded universities if they had a record of “public disorder” and requiring the immediate expulsion of current students with such records.
That just might push some of them into supporting the New Meritorists … especially expelling them for previous public disorder.
He put the newssheet on the side table, poured his café, and had just seated himself when Ysella arrived. “How are you feeling this morning?”
“I slept well, thank the Three.” She frowned. “Did someone drop something heavy this morning?”
“I heard it, and so did Hyelda, but we don’t know what caused it.”
“Let’s hope it’s nothing serious.”
Dekkard nodded. “There’s one story in Gestirn that bothers me. Minister Sanoffre is banning and expelling any university students involved in public demonstrations.”
Ysella poured herself a mug of café. “Any student stupid enough to get involved doesn’t deserve a university education.”
“That’s likely true—”
“Likely?” asked Ysella sardonically.
“… but young people can be stupid. It’s going to make some of them angry, especially the part about expelling them for previous disorderly behavior. That’s punishing them for something that wasn’t considered punishable when they did it.” Dekkard sipped his café.
“They were part of demonstrations where prohibited firearms killed Council Guards and patrollers. You don’t think they should suffer some consequences?”
“I don’t have a problem with a regulation that punishes criminal behavior from the time of enactment on. I think it’s bad politics to make the punishment retroactive.”
“Would you have joined such demonstrations?” asked Ysella.
“Of course not. They’re stupid, and they’re bound to fail … at least until and unless they lead to a full-out rebellion.”
Ysella frowned. “Do you really think that’s possible?”
“Maybe not for years, but it just might happen if the Commercers and the Imperador keep doing what they’re doing.” Dekkard had the feeling that Ysella didn’t see what he was driving at. “About a month ago, Sanoffre declared that enrollment at the universities would be capped at current levels. He said that there are far more university graduates than there are jobs requiring such skills. If enrollments remain capped, who do you think gets left out? Why do you think students are demonstrating?”
“The ones demonstrating are probably those who are less successful,” she countered.
Dekkard nodded. “You’re probably right. But I remember what Markell said. He had to get two degrees and excel in both to even be considered. He couldn’t go with an established firm, but a much newer one. Some of his subsequent success might also be because of your sister.”
“The students who are part of the New Meritorists should still know better.”
“They should. But they’re angry because Landor and Commercer students who aren’t as good as the bright but not brilliant students from craft or artisan backgrounds are getting jobs, and they’re not. Anger makes people stupid—especially young people. What makes it worse is things like the Kraffeist Affair, which show that stupid and corrupt Commercers get away with swindling thousands, if not tens of thousands, of marks, and either get off or pay damages that come from corporacions and not even from their own wallets. And then the Commercers get angry and outraged when people demonstrate.”
“You’re sounding like you sympathize.”
“I understand. To a point, I sympathize. But what they want won’t solve their problems, and it will eventually destroy Guldor. That’s something that Commercers and most Landors don’t really understand. I don’t think those types want to understand.”
Ysella offered an amused smile. “You worded that carefully, Steffan.”
Dekkard laughed softly. “I try.”
“So what do you propose…” Ysella broke off her words as she heard Rhosali’s footsteps. “We need to talk later.”
“We do,” agreed Dekkard, both realizing that she was right and glad for the break, because he had no idea what would resolve the growing gulf between Crafters, especially lower-paid laboring types, and Commercers. He took two croissants and some quince paste.
“You two sounded like you were having a spirited talk,” declared Rhosali.
“We were wondering what the Council could do about the demonstrators and people who burned the Security Ministry,” said Ysella.
“They could lock them up,” offered Rhosali. “That’s what Security usually does.” She paused. “Might help for a while. That’s if things get better.”
“Better how?” asked Dekkard.
“My uncle and his family moved in with my parents. He was a foreman in the Guldoran Ironway textile manufactory … the one they closed at the end of last month. He’s fifty. He knew it was coming, and he looked for other work. He couldn’t find another job there, except as a laborer. They had to sell their house. What they’ll do when the marks run out…” The housemaid shrugged, almost despairingly.
“They came here all the way from Oersynt?” Dekkard wanted to make sure that there wasn’t yet another manufactory being closed.
“They didn’t have anywhere else. My brother and I are out of the house.” Rhosali shook her head, then poured her café and sat down beside Ysella.
“Even as an experienced foreman, he couldn’t find a job in Oersynt?” asked Dekkard.
“They wanted someone younger. Maybe here in Machtarn…”
“Have you talked to the councilor?” asked Ysella. “He knows people who know people.”
“I … I just … I couldn’t…”
“I’ll see if he has any suggestions,” said Ysella.
“If you would … My uncle’s name is Hermann Mantero.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” replied Ysella.
“Thank you.”
Neither Dekkard nor Ysella said much more as they finished their breakfasts and then left the staff roo
m to finish preparing for the day ahead.
Dekkard had the Gresynt ready early, but waited longer for Obreduur and Ysella, who were talking even as they neared the steamer.
“… I can do that, but it depends on him,” Obreduur said to Ysella before entering the Gresynt.
“Thank you, sir.” Ysella eased into the front seat.
Dekkard, suspecting the subject of the conversation, raised his eyebrows.
Ysella gave a quick discreet nod.
Dekkard repressed any expression as he eased the steamer down the drive, out through the gates, and onto Altarama heading west.
After he turned the Gresynt onto Imperial Boulevard and traveled north for a mille, he glanced to the northeast, taking in the blackened ruins of the Security Ministry. That just might only be the beginning of what the New Meritorists could do. He also wondered what their next target might be … or if the sound that had awakened him had been something they had caused.
Just before he reached Council Avenue, he could make out a barricade on the Square of Heroes, as well as Security steamers. “The Square of Heroes is closed off. There are Security forces there.”
“Are there are demonstrators?” asked Obreduur.
“I can’t see any,” replied Ysella.
“We’ll find out what it’s all about before long,” said the councilor.
When Dekkard turned onto Council Avenue, he could see a number of steamers, mostly Gresynts, coming from the Council Office Building, and as he drove toward the building, it was clear why. Wooden sawhorses had been placed before all the doors to the Council Office Building, and close to a score of Council Guards stood by the entrance, presumably explaining to those who drove up why the building was closed.
“The Council Office Building appears to be closed, sir.” Dekkard kept the Gresynt moving around the circle toward the entrance where the guards were posted, rolling down his window as he did, then finally reaching one of the guards.
“Sir, the Council Office Building is closed because there is no water. The Premier will send messages to all councilors when the building will be reopened.”
“What caused the lack of water?” asked Obreduur.
“We were not told, sir,” replied the guard. “I do know that the Imperial Palace also has no water.”
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