Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Part of that was hatred-fired,” replied Ysella. “The New Meritorists recruited someone who had a deep-seated hatred of the Council.”

  “Even so…” mused Fharkon.

  “How long can Security keep their name from coming up?” asked Dekkard casually.

  “Just about forever,” replied Fharkon sardonically.

  “As long as they can threaten the journalists, anyway,” said Velle. “Or find and burn the New Meritorists’ broadsheets … and seize unlicensed printing presses.”

  “There are still typewriters,” said Ysella.

  “Without a fast way to make copies, that’s a lot of work for typewriters or pens,” Velle pointed out.

  “You have a point, Sumra,” said Dekkard, “but I still wonder.”

  Fharkon laughed. “You’re always wondering, Steffan, but wonder doesn’t go far against Security.”

  Not right now … but how long can it continue? Rather than say that, Dekkard took another bite of the empanada, which was adequate and tasty, followed by a mouthful of rice, which was spicier than he liked and dry, leading to a swallow of café.

  Before long, the four finished eating and left the cafeteria to go their separate ways.

  Dekkard and Ysella took their position outside the councilors’ dining room and were soon joined by Hasheem’s isolate—Erleen Orlov—a modestly muscled woman who was only a few digits shorter than Dekkard and who moved like a panther.

  “Are you going to get a partner any time soon?” asked Ysella.

  “We’re interviewing, but it doesn’t look promising. Good empaths can do better outside government … and it’s usually less dangerous. That’s what they think, anyway. That’s because no journalist ever writes about how many empies die in commercial work.”

  “And the councilor needs a very good empath,” replied Ysella.

  “More than that,” answered Orlov, before gesturing. “Here they come.”

  The three moved forward into their duties.

  In less than a sixth, Ysella and Dekkard had escorted Obreduur to the Council floor, where he had told them to return at a third past third bell unless he sent a messenger.

  As they walked across the courtyard back toward the Council Office Building, Dekkard asked, “Do you think there will be anything in the afternoon edition of Gestirn?”

  “I’m not hopeful, but we should look.”

  So, before they headed up the stairs to the second level, Dekkard stopped at the newssheet kiosk and bought a copy of the afternoon edition, then offered it to Ysella.

  “No. You read it.”

  Dekkard did, quickly. “There’s no mention of anything in Siincleer, no mention of Navy construction, and no mention of any engineering or any missing person.”

  “You can give the newssheet to Roostof when we get to the office.”

  Dekkard nodded.

  At a third past three, Dekkard and Ysella were waiting outside the entrance to the Council Hall, but Obreduur didn’t come out until just before fourth bell. He was shaking his head.

  Neither Ysella nor Dekkard said anything until they were in the courtyard and not that close to others.

  “Can you tell us what happened?” Dekkard finally asked.

  “Almost nothing. Premier Ulrich spoke for over a bell. He reported in mind-numbing detail on the damage created by the Security Ministry fire, the exploded water lines, and the blocked sewers. He didn’t say anything about who was behind it except that they were members of a secretive group that clearly wants to disrupt the government and social order of Guldor. When councilors asked questions, he replied in generalities, or said that Security was following up. He also said that the government would be introducing a supplemental authorization to pay for the repairs and damages. The rest was about necessary changes to the floor schedule and committee hearings.” Obreduur shook his head again.

  After several moments, he added, “Hasheem and Mardosh will also be looking into the possibilities of something being amiss with the naval construction in Siincleer. Mardosh has heard some disturbing rumors from the Shipfitters Guild there. Again, so far it’s all rumor.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Ysella quietly.

  “We’ll do what we can.”

  Shortly after they returned to the office, Obreduur declared it was time to leave. Dekkard was more than willing, especially since he’d managed to finish his drafts and turn them over to Margrit for typing. He also knew that Ysella wanted to get back to the house to see if there were any messages from Emrelda.

  The drive back to the house was especially quiet. After Dekkard dropped off Obreduur and Ysella at the portico, he didn’t know whether to hope there was a message from Emrelda … or not. When he finished with the steamer and left the garage, he went looking for Ysella. He found her in the late-day shade of the portico.

  Even before he could ask, she said, “There’s nothing from Emrelda. Nothing.”

  “That means it will be tomorrow morning at the earliest before we hear anything.”

  “The heliograph is open for another two bells.”

  “That’s true,” Dekkard agreed, although he thought it unlikely that they’d find out anything before Duadi morning. But you could be wrong. You have been wrong before.

  But no messages arrived by the time Dekkard climbed the stairs the last time, after exercising and practicing, and headed for bed.

  44

  WHILE Dekkard didn’t sleep all that well on Unadi night and woke early on Duadi, by the time he shaved, washed, and dressed—and made his way downstairs—early as it was, Ysella was already seated at the table and staring at the empty mug of café in front of her. The morning edition of Gestirn lay on the table beside her.

  Without looking directly at Dekkard, she said, “The bottom of page two.”

  Dekkard immediately picked up the newssheet and began to read.

  … Halaard Engaard, Presidente of Engaard Engineering, died of an apparent heart attack just after inspecting a significant construction project in Siincleer late on Unadi afternoon. The project had been contracted to his corporacion by the Imperial Navy. The founder of the rapidly rising and creative engineering firm was reportedly traveling to the port city to look into the progress of construction and the disappearance of a senior engineer tasked with overseeing the project …

  Sources have reported that Engaard was also looking into irregularities in the construction … With Engaard’s death and the disappearance of the engineer, Naval Procurement authorities are rumored to be looking into alternatives for remediation and continued construction of the project …

  Dekkard quickly went through the rest of the newssheet. He found nothing else that might bear on Markell’s disappearance or Engaard Engineering. He set the newssheet down.

  “Emrelda’s already on her way to Siincleer,” said Ysella. “She left a note in the message basket here, sometime before dawn. She said that we could do more here than going with her. She also wrote that she doubted she’d find anything, but that she had to go because she just had to … and that if she didn’t, she’d always worry that she could have done something…”

  “I can understand that. Have you brought the article to Obreduur’s attention?”

  “I just got back from talking to him. He’s always up early.”

  Dekkard knew that. He also knew that the councilor worked late, and at times he wondered if Obreduur even slept. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “Not any more than you are. We won’t hear more from Emrelda until tomorrow sometime … if then.”

  “Do you think she’ll find out anything?”

  “If there’s anything to find, she will. Knowing her, she’ll have a letter from her Security chief and she’ll show up in uniform.”

  For some reason, for all that Ysella had mentioned it, Dekkard hadn’t really thought of Emrelda as a Security patroller type, possibly because she’d never said much about it. “She can discover more than we could.”

  �
�She could also get herself killed.”

  She may not care at this point. But what Dekkard said was “Toughs hired by corporacions wouldn’t want to kill a Security patroller. On top of a missing engineer and a problematic heart attack, a murdered Security patroller looking into her husband’s disappearance would be bound to get into the hands of reporters, and enough rank-and-file Security types would be willing to let that story see print. Even Siincleer Engineering wouldn’t want that story.”

  “So all the evidence will vanish … if it hasn’t already.”

  “They’ll try. But I doubt anyone in the Siincleer organizations ever knew that Emrelda worked for Security. I don’t see her mentioning that socially, especially because of Markell.”

  “You’re right. She once said that people would get the wrong idea.”

  “That might mean that there are a few loose ends.”

  “We can always hope.” Ysella’s tone of voice was anything but hopeful.

  Dekkard refilled Ysella’s mug and then poured himself café. Only then did he sit down across from her. “Sometimes, it hurts to hope, but in the end, it hurts more not to.”

  “I’m not in the mood for philosophy, Steffan.”

  “Neither am I. If you give up hope, you’re also giving up on that person.” He took a sip of café and waited.

  “You scarcely know Markell.”

  “I know Emrelda better, and she’s the one you’re really concerned about … and I worry about what concerns you. And that’s not just because we’re partners.”

  Ysella looked up. “Are you trying to make me feel better?”

  “I’d like to, but that wasn’t why I said that. I have a sister, remember? I care about her, and, even from hundreds of milles away, I worry about her. If she were in danger because she loved someone enough to risk her life…” Dekkard paused. “I think I understand, at least a little. That would be true even if we weren’t partners. But we are, and I’m an isolate, and that means, sometimes, I have to tell you what I feel.” And hope you listen and really hear.

  After a long moment, Ysella said, “Thank you.” She frowned momentarily. “You’ve always trusted me … without being able to sense my emotions directly.”

  “That’s because you’re not only good at what you do, but you’ve always been honest.”

  “Mostly.” Ysella dropped her eyes for a moment.

  Neither spoke.

  The one who broke the silence was Hyelda, who appeared in the archway from the kitchen. “Ritter Obreduur wants to leave a sixth earlier than usual.”

  Dekkard turned. “Thank you, Hyelda.”

  “Don’t look so serious, you two,” returned the cook. “You’re still young.” Shaking her head, she headed back into the kitchen.

  “We probably ought to eat.” Dekkard looked directly into Ysella’s gray eyes. “At least something.” He managed a smile. “If not quince paste.”

  A hint of a smile was her response, although it vanished so quickly that Dekkard barely saw it. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “About that, anyway.” Dekkard reached for a croissant, then took a second, along with a slice of the quince paste.

  “You two are here early,” declared Rhosali as she entered the staff room.

  “The councilor wants to leave earlier this morning,” replied Dekkard, not about to go into the real reason they had both come down early. “What are you and Hyelda going to do when everyone else leaves in Summerend?”

  Rhosali grimaced as she sat down with her café. “That’s when we do all the deep cleaning. No one else is around to mess it up.” She smiled mischievously after the last words.

  “We’re not that bad,” Dekkard mock-protested.

  “Wasn’t saying it was you and Avraal.”

  “And after that? It doesn’t take a month, does it?”

  “Then I’ll sleep late for a week or two.”

  Before long, Dekkard and Ysella had finished with their breakfast, and Dekkard headed up the back steps to finish getting ready. After that, he hurried down to the garage and had the Gresynt waiting under the portico even before Ysella and Obreduur appeared.

  Once the two were inside the steamer, even before Dekkard started down the drive, Obreduur said, “Councilor Hasheem and Councilor Mardosh will be helping me look into what happened to your sister’s husband and to Sr. Engaard, and what other corporacions might be involved. I didn’t mention her or the relationship, only that the disappearance of a senior engineer and the strange death of Sr. Engaard was most disturbing. Carlos Baartol is also following up with his contacts and several guilds.”

  Even before Obreduur finished, Dekkard realized that the councilor wasn’t offering any hope about Markell.

  “I appreciate that, sir,” replied Ysella.

  “There is a slight possibility that Sr. Roemnal may be found. Even if matters don’t turn out optimally, what we learn should prove useful in reining in the increasing abuses of power by corporacions.”

  “If someone doesn’t,” replied Ysella evenly, “in the end the New Meritorists may destroy Guldor.”

  “That’s what many of us fear,” said Obreduur.

  When neither Ysella nor Dekkard spoke, the councilor began writing.

  Dekkard noted Ysella’s tenseness and murmured, “Is there anyone nearby I’m not seeing?”

  She shook her head before answering quietly, “Not so far, but I worry.”

  Understanding her concern, Dekkard paid even more attention to other steamers on the drive, especially when he turned onto Council Avenue.

  As Dekkard eased the steamer to a stop at the entrance to the Council Office Building, he had the feeling that the day wasn’t going to bring any answers, whether about Markell, Emrelda, the Commercers, or the New Meritorists.

  45

  AS Dekkard had suspected, nothing beyond the normal routine occurred at the Council Office Building for the rest of Duadi, at least not for him or Ysella. Even the rain that poured down around midmorning was neither a drizzle nor a downpour. It was also a touch ashy, because the wind was out of the northwest and carried soot from inland manufactories.

  On the drive back to the house, all that Obreduur said was “It will be days before I find out anything. Sometimes, waiting is the hardest part.”

  Until you actually receive the bad news you feared was always coming. Dekkard kept that thought to himself.

  “Do you think anyone will find anything?” asked Ysella.

  “I’d judge that there will be suggestive traces, but whether there will be more than that…”

  Ysella nodded, but did not say more.

  Once Dekkard garaged the steamer, he had to take a little more time wiping it down to remove the residue from the rain and then topping off the water and kerosene tanks. After that, he went to look for Ysella, but she wasn’t in the staff room. As he was about to go to the back veranda, Rhosali appeared.

  “Steffan, you got a package this afternoon. I put it on the side table in your room.”

  “Thank you.” A package? His parents usually didn’t send packages, but he couldn’t think of anyone else. “Was there any return address on it?”

  “Some place in Sudaen, I think.”

  “I appreciate your taking care of it.” Dekkard managed a smile. Then, because it was so unusual, he immediately headed up to his room.

  The package was on the side table and was the size of a stationery box, give or take a few digits, and wrapped in brown paper, secured with heavy brown paper tape. He immediately read the addresses, both written in impeccable script in black ink. The return address was:

  M&ER

  PR 3, Stop 51

  Sudaen

  The addressee was:

  Sr. Steffan Dekkard

  763 Altarama Drive

  East Quarter

  Machtarn

  M&ER? For a moment, the initials didn’t make sense. Then they did. He immediately left his room, closing the door behind him and walking down the short hall to Ysella�
�s chamber, where he rapped gently on the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Steffan. There’s a package you need to see. Right now.”

  “I’ll be there in a moment.”

  It seemed like several minutes before Ysella appeared. Dekkard noted a slight redness in her eyes, but wasn’t about to say anything.

  “You said there was a package?”

  “It’s in my room.”

  She frowned.

  “You need to see it just the way I did. Rhosali said it was delivered to the house this afternoon. She put it on the table.”

  “Why are you being so mysterious? Who’s it from?”

  “I’m not. I didn’t even want to touch it. You’ll see why.” Dekkard turned and walked toward his room.

  After a moment, Ysella followed.

  Dekkard opened his door and stepped back. “It’s on the table. Take a good look at it.”

  He watched as she walked to the table and bent over.

  Her mouth opened, then closed. She looked at Dekkard. “This isn’t some horrible joke, I hope.”

  “If it is, it isn’t my doing. I’m just guessing, but is the return address that of your parents?”

  “Theirs and Cliven’s.”

  “Do you see why I wanted you to see it before I even touched it? Do you think we ought to open it with Obreduur present?”

  “That would be a good idea. Since it’s addressed to you, you carry it.” As Ysella moved away from the table, she added, “You do keep your room very neat. That’s not a surprise, but…”

  “But?” asked Dekkard with a smile, picking up the package, which was heavier than it had looked.

  “It’s nice to have positive suspicions confirmed.”

  The two caught up with Obreduur as he looked about ready to go upstairs.

  “What is it?”

  “We don’t know,” replied Dekkard. “It could be very important, and that’s why we didn’t want to open it without you present. It’s a package, addressed to me here, with the initials of Markell and Emrelda above her parents’ address. The Imperial postal stamp is from Siincleer, and it’s dated last Quindi.”