“We heard something like an explosion earlier this morning,” interjected Dekkard. “Did that cause the outage?”
The guard looked bewildered. “I don’t know, sir. The Premier will be sending messages to all councilors.”
“Thank you,” said Obreduur.
Dekkard rolled the window up and eased the Gresynt away from the guards.
“You might as well head back to the house, Steffan. That’s where the Premier will send whatever he chooses to reveal.” Obreduur didn’t conceal the exasperation in his voice as he added, “This likely has something else to do with the New Meritorists—the simplistic idiots.”
Dekkard wasn’t so sure that the New Meritorists were as simplistic as Obreduur thought. But maybe you’re giving them too much credit.
Once Dekkard drove through the gates to the drive and stopped the Gresynt under the portico, Obreduur said, “I’d appreciate it if you’d both remain at the house, at least until I know more.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Dekkard and Ysella, not quite in synchrony.
Then Obreduur and Ysella got out of the steamer, and, once they closed the doors, Dekkard drove the steamer to the garage, where he wiped it down and topped off the tanks before closing the garage doors.
Ysella was waiting in the rear hallway. “Do you want to finish our earlier conversation?”
“We have time now. We may not later. Under the portico?”
“Where else?”
As they walked outside and down the drive toward the shade of the portico roof, Ysella said, “While you were getting the steamer ready, I asked the councilor if he could do anything for Rhosali’s uncle. He told me he’d write a note to Carlos Baartol about Sr. Mantero, and to have him visit Baartol at his office late this week or early next week.”
“Do you think Baartol can help?”
“He can find him something better than a laborer’s position.”
“What will you tell Rhosali?”
“Just that there’s a chance Baartol can help her uncle.” Ysella paused. “You were going to tell me what you’d propose to do to deal with the New Meritorists.”
“Something similar to what Obreduur has in mind. Find a way to build enough support for the Craft Party to select a premier and start chipping away at some of the unseen structural inequities … like allowing workers to be represented by guild legalists even when they’re unemployed … or possibly making all large contracts between the government and corporacions part of the public record … and making the heads of corporacions personally liable for criminal and/or financial illegalities committed by their corporacion.”
“No Council will ever pass that.”
Dekkard smiled. “If there are almost enough votes to pass that, then I imagine we’d see fewer Kraffeist Affairs … and there might be more votes for Craft Party councilor candidates…”
Ysella shook her head. “At times, you sound almost as radical as the New Meritorists, and the next minute you sound like Obreduur.”
“I get more upset than he does about the unfairnesses … or maybe I just show it more, which isn’t wise, but I agree with his approach, or yours. I’m not in favor of tearing down a working system for one that seems better, but isn’t. But we have to stop the present system from being eroded any more by wealth and privilege.”
“Do you think it’s been eroded that much … or that we expect more than people used to?”
Dekkard offered a wry laugh. “I have no idea. That’s really a guess on my part. I see Commercers using the system to increase their power, and that things are getting worse for many people. Is it worse now, or has it always been this way, and people are finally losing hope and getting angry? You tell me.”
After a long moment, Ysella replied. “First the Landors, and then the Commercers, had too much power, but the guilds of the skilled trades kept them from the worst excesses. When steam-powered machinery began to make so many goods cheaply, the guilds lost power. The Landors did also, if more slowly. Even now, too many Landors refuse to see that the guilds would be better allies than the Commercers.”
As they stood there, Dekkard saw a blue Ferrum with green stripes glide to a stop in front of the gates and a messenger hurry through the pedestrian gates and up to the front door.
“That has to be a messenger from Craft Floor Leader Haarsfel,” said Ysella. “We should head back to the staff room.”
“We should. In a minute. You didn’t answer my question. Why now?”
“You already answered it. Because so many have lost hope.”
“But how did it come to that?” Dekkard pressed.
“What do you think?”
“Because the rich are getting richer and no one else is? Because no one seems able to stop the changes?”
“That’s part of it, but we need to see what the councilor has to say.”
“You’re probably right.” Dekkard took a deep breath. He felt like he was talking and arguing in circles, even within himself.
Neither spoke as they made their way to the staff room.
Obreduur stood in the archway. “If you’d join me in the study.” It wasn’t a question.
Once all three were seated in the study, Obreduur looked across his desk at Dekkard and Ysella. “As you must have noticed, I just received a message from Floor Leader Haarsfel. A section of the Semille water tunnel serving the Palace and the Council was destroyed by a massive dunnite explosion. There’s a huge water-filled crater there. The Premier has assured everyone that temporary repairs will be completed by tomorrow morning … but it will take weeks to make proper repairs. Council sessions will resume at noon tomorrow.”
Dekkard frowned, wondering how anyone could place that amount of explosives under or around an underground tunnel without being noticed.
“You have a question, Steffan?”
“I thought the main tunnels were at least partly dug or tunneled through rock.”
“There are a few places where the bedrock is too deep and large ceramic piping is used. One of those places is through the Hillpark Reserve. Apparently, a road-repair crew working on a drive through the park was doing more than repairing the walks and curbs.” After the briefest of hesitations, Obreduur added, “That shows, again, a high level of expertise and planning. They’re not just destroying things; they’re sending a message that they’re willing to destroy everything if the Council and the Imperador don’t listen.”
There’s something about the two acts … Dekkard smiled wryly, then shook his head. It couldn’t be …
“Steffan … what were you thinking?”
“Oh … it was just a wild thought. No one would really do it.”
“Do what?” asked Ysella.
“It’s stupid…”
Ysella gave him a hard look.
Dekkard sighed. “I was just thinking. They blew up the Security Ministry, but they also took out the lighting for that whole part of the city. Now, they’ve done the same thing with the water system. I was … it’s silly…” When neither Obreduur nor Ysella said a word, he went on. “I was just thinking what else makes a city livable. Without sewers … well, everything would stink, and no one thinks about sewers…”
Obreduur and Ysella exchanged glances.
“I said it was stupid,” said Dekkard.
“No … it’s not stupid,” replied Obreduur. “It’s just the sort of thing those brilliant idiots might try. In any event, there can only be a handful of places and sewer junctions where they could create the same sort of destruction, and it shouldn’t take that long for Security to investigate the possibilities. Thank you. It’s a very good thought. Please stay close. I might need you two to escort me.”
“Yes, sir.”
The two walked back to the staff room, where Dekkard stopped and looked at Ysella. “This is going to get worse.”
“They can’t keep doing things like this,” replied Ysella. “Security will find them, sooner or later.”
“That may be,” Dekkard agreed
.
“And?” prompted Ysella.
“I couldn’t say. I feel that we’re missing something. Maybe I just don’t understand. Maybe Security can round up all the New Meritorists. Maybe there aren’t that many of them. That doesn’t take into account the people like Rhosali’s uncle. Over four hundred of them lost their jobs. How many others will lose their jobs to sussie workers in Noldar and elsewhere, or to more modern steam-powered manufactories with the new punch-card-controlled machines?”
“We can’t stop progress.”
“No … but we could manage it better. I’d like to think that, anyway.” Dekkard pulled out a chair and sat down. He didn’t feel like going up to his room, especially since it would be warmer than the staff room.
After a moment, Ysella seated herself across from him. “Why did you say that you’d be a third-rate artisan?”
“Fifth-rate was what I said. First, I don’t have the physical skill in my hands.”
“That’s hard to believe. Your writing is beautiful.”
“You don’t know how many years it took.” And how many times my mother used a rule on the back of my head. “It’s agony for me to even try to draw a perfect circle. Or to use a wheel to throw the simplest pot or vase. But it’s more than that. There’s a degree of repetition involved in being an artisan.”
“As opposed to being an artist?”
“There’s less repetition in artistry.” And usually a lot fewer marks.
“Steffan … there’s repetition in everything, especially if you want to be good.”
“I know that. But if you love or like doing something, the repetition doesn’t bother you. Because it bothered me so much, I knew I didn’t love being an artisan.”
“Security is filled with repetition.”
“The responses are filled with repetition. But every situation is a little different, and I learn more about people with every encounter.”
“Maybe…” Ysella showed the slightest hint of an amused smile.
“Maybe what?”
“I need to think about it.” At that moment, the door to the back hall opened, and Ysella added, “It’s the councilor.”
They both were standing when Obreduur reached the archway.
“I need you both. I’ll tell you once we’re on the way.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard immediately headed to ready the Gresynt, leaving Ysella and Obreduur, but both were waiting under the portico by the time he arrived there with the steamer.
When they were seated with the doors closed, he asked, “Where to, sir?”
“The Ministry of Health and Education first. Sewers belong to Health. Phillipe won’t do anything, but I’ll still need to talk to him or his deputy before we make the second stop.”
Dekkard took Altarama to Imperial Boulevard, but continued on Imperial to Heroes Square, where he took Grande Avenue, also known as the Way of Gold, east from the Imperial Palace and its grounds to the section of Machtarn that held the offices of all the ministries. The Health and Education Ministry shared a building with Workplace Administration, across the street from the Commerce building.
Dekkard pulled into the waiting space in front of the main door. The doorman started to wave him away, then looked at the Council insignia on the Gresynt and stopped gesturing.
“You’ll come with me, Avraal,” said Obreduur. “Some persuading might speed matters.”
Dekkard remained with the steamer, half wondering and half bemused at Obreduur’s certainty that Minister Sanoffre would do nothing.
Two-thirds of a bell later, Obreduur and Ysella returned.
Obreduur said nothing until he was inside the steamer. “Phillipe agreed, but prefers that I talk to Minister Wyath. So we’ll go to the Justiciary building. That’s where he’s working now.”
Dekkard eased the Gresynt away from the waiting space and continued east to the cross street, Ironton, where he turned right. A block later, he eased up in front of the gray stone structure that housed the Justiciary Ministry.
A pair of armed Security guards flanked the bronze doors at the top of the marble steps.
Once more, Ysella accompanied Obreduur, and one of the guards said something to the councilor, who replied before entering the building.
Almost a bell passed before Obreduur and Ysella returned.
Dekkard wanted to ask what had happened. Instead, he said, “Where to now, sir?”
“Back to the house. We’ve done what we could.”
Dekkard decided to wait to see what Obreduur said, but the councilor said nothing until they were headed south on Imperial Boulevard. “Is anyone following us?”
“Not that I can tell,” said Dekkard.
“Not closely enough that I can sense anyone with such feelings.”
“I wasn’t sure I could see Minister Wyath, but he made a few minutes available. I pointed out what you suggested. He was dubious, but he did agree that checking the few places where sewer malfunctions would have a severe impact couldn’t hurt. I have the feeling he’ll order his people to check just so that he and the Premier can claim they’ve tried to get ahead of the demonstrators.”
“If Steffan’s intuition is correct?” asked Ysella.
“Security will want to talk to all of us,” said Obreduur dryly.
“All of us?” said Dekkard.
“They can’t talk to you without my being present. No staff member can be interviewed or interrogated without the councilor being present.”
Dekkard didn’t recall such a provision in the Great Charter, but he wasn’t about to say so.
“It is in the Great Charter, in an obscure fashion,” Obreduur went on. “There’s a clause that states that employees of the Council may not be interviewed or interrogated by any branch of government, including the Council, without the presence of the elected authority directly over them. That was put there to keep the Premier or the Imperador from trying to get information from staffers without the knowledge of the appropriate councilor.”
“I’m not sure I want to be correct in my wild guess, then,” replied Dekkard.
“There are definitely dangers to predicting correctly,” agreed Obreduur. “There always have been, especially if you predict negative events.”
Dekkard could see that.
38
THE remainder of Unadi was quiet. There were no more messages, and Dekkard, after what Obreduur had said about the Great Charter, spent most of the rest of the day closely studying the briefing book that Ysella had given him, reading the Great Charter aloud to himself, if in a quiet voice, just so that he wouldn’t miss anything.
On Duadi, after more study of the Great Charter and the rest of the briefing book, and with no instructions to the contrary, Dekkard had the Gresynt ready at a third before noon, and in moments Obreduur and Ysella appeared.
Even before Dekkard left the drive and turned onto Altarama, the councilor said, “No, I’ve received no messages.”
When Dekkard pulled up in front of the Council Office Building, he could see that additional guards were still in place, and that they seemed to be questioning a few more people than before, although none of them stopped him, possibly because of his security grays.
So could a New Meritorist empie or isolate get into the Council Building in grays?
That was something else he probably ought to bring up as well, but surely someone had thought of it. He shook his head. It didn’t appear that his last idea had worked out. He kept walking, making his way up the staff staircase to the second level and the office.
As usual, there was a stack of letters and petitions on his desk, if a short one, either because the messenger service was checking anything coming into the building more thoroughly or because fewer people were sending things, in anticipation of the upcoming Summerend recess. As he began reading the first letter, Dekkard suspected the latter more than the former.
Just before the third bell of the afternoon, a messenger in gray walked swiftly into the office and
announced, “A message for Councilor Obreduur from Security Minister Wyath. For the councilor’s hand only.”
Ysella immediately concentrated on the messenger, while Karola stood and knocked on the inner door. “A message for you from Security Minister Wyath, Councilor.”
Less than a minute passed before the inner door opened and Obreduur stood there.
The messenger handed over the sealed envelope, along with a sheet of paper, saying, “If you’d be so kind as to sign for it, Councilor.”
Obreduur signed the sheet on the corner of Karola’s desk and returned it.
“Thank you, sir.” The messenger turned and hurried out of the office.
Obreduur looked to Ysella.
“He was more worried about getting all of his messages delivered than anything else.”
“Thank you.” The councilor nodded and retreated into his office.
Less than a sixth later, Obreduur reappeared at his office door. “Avraal … Steffan…” He motioned for the two to join him.
Dekkard followed Ysella into the office. He didn’t need to be told to close the door.
Obreduur said nothing until he reseated himself behind the wide goldenwood desk on which were close to a half score neatly stacked piles of papers. He picked up a single sheet of paper, looked at it for perhaps a minute before setting it down and clearing his throat.
“Steffan … apparently your intuition is somewhat better than Security’s innumerable agents … and that presents a problem. We’ll get into that a bit later. Security agents were too late to preclude one sewer blockage. A point where three subsidiary sewage mains joined the main sewer was plugged with underwater cement yesterday afternoon. The area includes the burned-out Security Ministry as well as the Justiciary Ministry and the Workplace Administration Ministry. Those offices and the businesses in four blocks are temporarily closed … and may be for more than a week because any sewage has no place else to go. Agents were more successful in dealing with the sewers serving the Palace and the Council grounds and buildings. They caught the perpetrators in the act, again using city maintenance vehicles. They appear to be New Meritorists, but interrogations are still in progress…”
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