The questions went on for more than two-thirds of a bell, by which time the cleanup guards arrived with a cart and examined and searched the dead man. As Trujillo had suspected, there was no evidence of any sort, except the gun. In the end, the guards wiped off Dekkard’s throwing knife and returned it.
Once the other guards carted off the body, Dekkard asked, “You said the gun was evidence of a sort?”
“You brought down the renegade empie. She was associated with the demonstrators who carried the same kind of weapons.”
Dekkard couldn’t help but note the circumlocution, but did not remark on it.
“The only thing that makes sense is that they found out who you were and targeted you. You must be on their hit list.”
“My name was never mentioned in the newssheets or elsewhere,” Dekkard pointed out.
“Any group that can sneak a messenger into the Council Hall can discover who the isolate and empie were that subdued and captured her.”
“Did you ever find out much about who sent her?”
“She fought the interrogation empaths so much that the conflict shredded her mind. She died almost immediately.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Dekkard thought that a less violent form of interrogation might have revealed much more, but there was little point in saying that, either.
“Very much so. A gentler approach would have provided more information, if indirectly. I was not consulted.” Trujillo smiled. “I’ll deny that, but you already understand as much.”
“Just as you’re required not to ever name the group behind the demonstrators and the so-called renegade empie?”
“Of course.” Trujillo glanced toward the Council Office Building and then to the darkening clouds to the northeast. “I’ll walk across the street with you. We’ll let your councilor know if we discover more. I don’t think we will, but you never know.”
After leaving Trujillo, Dekkard headed up the staff staircase, still going over what had happened.
As soon as he entered the office, Karola gestured toward the door to the inner office, and Ysella rose from her desk.
Dekkard smiled raggedly. “I wouldn’t have thought otherwise.”
He and Ysella walked into Obreduur’s office, and she closed the door.
Obreduur remained seated behind his desk and gestured to the chairs. “You need to sit down. Tell us what happened. All of it, and take your time.”
“It all started a few moments after I closed up the Gresynt…” Dekkard then related the entire episode, including all the questions and statements from Guard Captain Trujillo. When he finished, he just waited.
“That’s quite a morning for you,” said Obreduur. “Who do you think is behind it?”
“Despite Captain Trujillo’s words and apparent beliefs, I doubt that it’s the New Meritorists. I suspect they don’t even know who I am. Nor do they care that much. I think someone else is behind it, someone who wants me out of the way, for whatever reason, and wants to pin the blame on the New Meritorists. Why they’re after me, I don’t know, because I’m not anyone of import. I don’t see how it can be because of Emrelda and Markell, either.”
“You’re not quite as insignificant as you profess, Steffan,” returned Obreduur. “And if we and you can avoid or forestall further attempts on your life, you may well be even less so in times to come. You’re also correct about Markell, but it’s clear that Markell’s efforts have uncovered another insidious effort on the part of key Commercers.”
“What? That they want to control all military engineering projects?”
“Can you imagine a better way to make the Navy, in particular, beholden to them, especially if there are no other engineering corporacions capable of handling such projects? Then the Council will have to pay whatever they charge.”
“Can’t the Council look into those situations?” asked Dekkard.
“In theory,” said Obreduur sardonically.
Dekkard understood—not unless the Premier and the party in power were so inclined. But since Obreduur hadn’t answered his main question, he asked again, “Why me?”
“Because you’re getting more and more capable, and because you and Avraal are extraordinarily good at protecting me.”
“And because,” added Ysella, “he’s the only reason why the Craft Party has gained seats in the Council, and the Commercers know it and fear him.”
“You’re not even floor leader,” said Dekkard quietly.
“My strongest skills don’t lie in parliamentary maneuvering,” replied Obreduur. “Haarsfel is much better at that than I’ll ever be.”
“So long as he stays alive,” added Ysella, looking at Dekkard. “That means we both have to stay alive.”
“Avraal is perhaps overreaching—”
“No, I’m not … sir.”
Obreduur offered what Dekkard could only interpret as an embarrassed smile, then said, “In any event, you’re safe. That brings up another possibility. If someone associated indirectly with the Commercers is behind the attack, in the next few days you may be offered, seemingly out of concern, a lucrative and safer position with a well-established corporacion.”
“After attacking me? Why?”
“Because they really don’t care whether you’re dead or whether you move on and aren’t protecting the councilor,” replied Ysella, almost tartly.
“They’ll use nettles or niceties, whatever works,” added Obreduur. “If this happens, whatever your decision is, I’d like to ask that you tell them something to the effect that you hadn’t thought about it earlier, but that recent events have made you think the matter over, and that you’d like a few days to consider it.”
“That makes sense.” Dekkard nodded, then said, “There’s one other thing. Even if the Commercers are behind it, they’ve effectively shifted the blame to the New Meritorists.”
“That may be for the best. Letting them know what we’ve learned won’t serve us well right now.” Obreduur smiled again, this time pleasantly. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“I’ve told you everything about this that I can recall, sir.”
“Then we all need to get back to work.”
Dekkard and Ysella stood, then turned and left the office.
Once the door was closed, Karola looked to Dekkard. “Are you all right, Steffan?”
“Outside of the surprise that anyone would attack a mere security aide, I am.” He smiled. “But thank you. I appreciate the thought very much.”
“I don’t understand all of this,” replied Karola. “It’s like everything changed. People are shooting at the guards and councilors, and empies are attacking councilors and trying to shoot aides, and aides are missing.” She shook her head.
“It’s a different time,” said Dekkard. “We’re just living at one of the few times when it happens that way.” But maybe all times are like this, except no one recognizes it.
He walked back to his desk and the small stack of waiting letters and petitions.
47
THE Tridi afternoon editions of Gestirn and The Machtarn Tribune had no stories about Markell or Engaard, and there were no announcements from Premier Ulrich.
Then, just after Dekkard and Ysella returned to the house that afternoon and he’d finished with the Gresynt, when he entered the staff area from the garage Ysella informed him that there was no message or letter from Emrelda, finishing by saying, “… means that she’s all right.”
“Because the murder or disappearance of a Security dispatcher looking for her missing husband wouldn’t be a story that Security would suppress or that the newssheets could resist printing?” asked Dekkard.
Ysella nodded. “She also may not learn much … but…”
“Learning too much might be dangerous for her?”
“I worry about that.”
“Exposing what powerful people don’t want known is always dangerous,” Dekkard said.
“All we can do is our best … and wait.”
&nbs
p; “I think we’ve said that before,” said Dekkard.
“Right now … we’ll just have to hope. I’ll see you at dinner.” She turned and headed for the back staircase.
Dekkard returned to the garage to practice with the throwing knives … and then sharpen them … and his gladius. He couldn’t help feeling that he might need both in the days ahead.
A little over two bells later, Dekkard and Ysella had just seated themselves for dinner at the staff table when Hyelda entered to join them and said, “Ritter Obreduur said that he’d like a word with you two later this evening. He’ll let you know.”
Dekkard and Ysella exchanged glances.
“Most likely—” began Dekkard.
“More than likely,” interrupted Ysella, “but we’ll have to see.”
Rhosali shook her head. “You two are so secretive. No one’s ever going to ask us”—she nodded to Hyelda—“about what you said.”
“Who’d believe us, if they did?” added the cook.
“They’d be smart to believe you over some of the councilors,” said Dekkard cheerfully.
“That won’t ever happen,” replied Hyelda.
Dekkard looked down at his platter—cold sesame noodles with chicken and cucumbers, garnished with toasted almonds—then smiled. “This looks good.”
“Ritten Obreduur requested it.”
“I’m glad she did,” added Ysella.
Dekkard took a sip of the pale lager, then began to eat. Across from him, so did Ysella.
After dinner, Dekkard and Ysella walked down the drive to the portico.
“You know I don’t like waiting, Steffan,” she said quietly.
“I know.” Dekkard debated about telling her the way he’d seen the attacker’s face as the man was dying, then decided against it. The last thing Ysella needed to worry about was whether her partner was beginning to lose his mind. But it still bothered him.
“You look worried,” she said.
“I am. The Commercers and Security are underestimating the New Meritorists, and I’m not sure that many of the Crafter or Landor councilors understand how much the Commercers are subverting the Great Charter. Obreduur’s working on it, and Hasheem seems to understand, but does Haarsfel?”
“Not fully, I think,” admitted Ysella, “but there’s only so much Obreduur can do.”
“Even if the Crafters could win enough seats to reach thirty, would even four Landors support a Craft premier?”
“At the moment, I have my doubts. It’s also unlikely that enough Landors will stop backing the Commerce Party to require new elections. The Imperador certainly won’t call new elections unless something major and unforeseen occurs, and it’s almost two years before the limitation clause would require it.”
“So we just keep working.”
“Unless you can find a way to totally discredit the Commercers,” replied Ysella.
“The New Meritorists are more likely to do that.”
Ysella shook her head. “That will give the Commercers a mandate to use more force.”
“Until they do and massacre a lot of innocents,” suggested Dekkard.
“I have my doubts about people being that intelligent.”
“Do you think Emrelda will discover anything?”
“She’ll discover something. It’s more likely to be circumstantial, and not enough to prove anything conclusively. The corporacions are too clever for that.”
Dekkard had the same feeling.
Less than a bell later, Obreduur summoned them to his study, then waited until they were seated before speaking. “I’ve received some information from Carlos Baartol. He said that if I could get ahold of the altered building plans, or at least a sheet, that would tell something about who provided them. Apparently, most of the major engineering concerns have their own specifications for planning paper. It wouldn’t be conclusive, but it might help.”
“You’d like to take a sheet of the altered plans and see if he can determine where it came from?” asked Ysella.
“Only if you approve.” Obreduur looked from Ysella to Dekkard.
Dekkard turned to Ysella. “I think it’s worth a try, but it’s your decision.”
“Just a single sheet,” declared Ysella, “and the one that has the least revealing information on it.”
“I’d already thought of that. I can’t send it to him until tomorrow morning.”
“That delay won’t hurt Emrelda.” Ysella’s voice was flat. “Is there anything else?”
“Councilor Hasheem mentioned the financial destruction of a machine works that developed a better punch-card lathe. Guldoran Ironway now owns the rights to and the equipment of that firm. By itself…” Obreduur shrugged.
“But if you can find more examples?” asked Dekkard.
“It will help in dealing with the Commercers.”
But not with finding out about Markell.
“Thank you,” said Ysella.
“I wish I could offer more, Avraal,” said Obreduur kindly.
“You’re doing what you can. No one can ask more.”
“Carlos also sent me some information about Councilor Aashtaan. For now, it should stay between the three of us.” Obreduur paused.
“Yes, sir,” replied Dekkard.
Ysella nodded.
“Aashtaan had a series of … shall we call them … liaisons … with a young woman. She disappeared without a trace. The empath who killed him was her sister.”
“Then the New Meritorists weren’t involved at all?” asked Dekkard.
Obreduur shook his head. “Not initially. She apparently sought them out.”
“That explains why she could kill him,” said Ysella. “She truly hated the bastard. It’s not exactly without precedent. What do you think was behind the Silent Revolution?”
All Dekkard really knew about the Silent Revolution was that, after a series of senior councilors had died “mysteriously” over the course of a year and a half, the Council had voted to change the suffrage requirements to include women working outside the home and the wives of working men, as well as all adults over fifty who had worked and paid taxes for more than thirty years. The laws governing household violence had also been revised and strengthened, and any prohibition on women entering any organization or guild had been declared void. While it was known that women empaths had been behind the deaths, little more had ever been made public, at least not anywhere that Dekkard knew.
“This is somewhat different,” said Obreduur mildly.
“That’s why it’s so dangerous,” replied Ysella. “The Silent Revolution didn’t change the basis of the Great Charter. Using unhappy women empaths to attack…” She shook her head.
“That’s another reason why we need to stop the New Meritorists,” suggested Dekkard.
“I’d agree,” replied Obreduur. “I’d be happy to see any solid suggestions.”
While Obreduur’s voice was mild, even Dekkard had the feeling the councilor was displeased. As if he’s trying everything he thinks is workable … and you just say it has to be sooner, without any plan.
“I don’t have any new suggestions, sir. It’s just that the situation is more urgent than I realized.”
“I’d also agree with that, Steffan.” Obreduur’s tone of voice was warmer. “We can talk about it later.” He stood.
So did Dekkard and Ysella, and the two walked from the study, down the hall, and through the kitchen to the staff room.
“Would you like to talk some more?” asked Dekkard.
“You’re kind, Steffan, but I need to think. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“In the morning, then.” He let Ysella leave the staff room first, then waited until she was up the staircase before following her.
48
FURDI morning brought no messages from Emrelda, not by the time Dekkard drove the Gresynt out from under the portico, heading for Altarama Drive. Ysella, understandably, remained tense, although neither she nor Dekkard saw or sensed anyone followin
g them. After Dekkard dropped off Obreduur and Ysella, he was more cautious than usual when he parked the steamer and then walked across the street, but no one even came close to him.
Only a few petitions and letters awaited him, at a glance less than ten, and he settled behind his desk and began to read. As the morning progressed, and he made his way through the letters, he did notice flurry of messengers.
Slightly after midmorning, Obreduur opened his door and looked in Ysella’s direction. “I’ll be meeting for lunch with Hasheem and Floor Leader Haarsfel. So you two can escort me there, eat at the cafeteria, and then meet me to escort me to the Waterways Committee meeting.”
Obreduur returned to his inner office. At a third before noon, he reappeared, and Dekkard and Ysella immediately escorted him from the office and down the main center staircase, keeping to one side to allow the messengers the other.
As they stepped out of the Council Office Building and into the damp and oppressive summer heat, Ysella said quietly, “Someone’s tracking us. They’re far enough back that I can’t identify them.”
“Is there a sense of danger?”
“Not now,” murmured Ysella.
Dekkard looked around, but while there were scattered staffers on the walkway, and several councilors with security aides, none were close enough to identify. When they entered the Council Hall, the main corridor contained more people, from guards and messengers to a few councilors and more than a few staffers.
“Are they still following?” asked Obreduur.
“If they are,” replied Ysella, “right now they’re too far away for me to sense them. We’ll stay close until you’re well inside the dining room.”
“I’d appreciate that.”
Once Obreduur had entered the comparative sanctuary of the dining area, Dekkard turned to Ysella. “What do you sense?”
“Just emotional chaos. Nothing focused.”
“Then we should go eat.”
She nodded, and the two headed for the staff cafeteria. As they neared the entrance, a tall brawny figure turned and smiled—Jaime Minz, Dekkard realized, along with a shorter but muscular woman, although she was anything but short, except in comparison to Minz, because she was only a few digits shorter than Dekkard and carried herself more like an isolate than the empath she most certainly was.
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