Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  In minutes, they were at the lobby to the Council Hall, and Obreduur hurried inside.

  “Almost four bells to finish up letters and petitions,” said Dekkard, turning to head back to the Council Office Building.

  “More like three with the walking back and forth,” corrected Ysella.

  “I was being optimistic. I am occasionally.”

  “Just occasionally?” Ysella offered an amused smile.

  “Maybe a little more than occasionally.”

  As they walked, Dekkard’s thoughts went back to the New Meritorists and what Amelya had said about Premier Ulrich. Does he hate them enough to do something stupid … or is that just a political position?

  He nodded. There might be one way to find out … and put some pressure on the Commercers. He also had to tell Obreduur the additional details about what Maastach and Ulrich had done to Councilor Bassaana.

  56

  DESPITE the New Meritorist protests and demonstration, late on Unadi afternoon the supplemental funding legislation passed the Council with a cap on university funding and an enrollment limit for new admissions or readmissions. The story in Gestirn mentioned both the cap and the prohibition, but nothing about the New Meritorist demonstrators.

  Duadi and Tridi were slow and routine, since the Council was in pro forma session until officially adjourning for the Summerend recess on Quindi. On Duadi, Ysella wore her gray suit, and took the Gresynt to her talk to the Women’s Clerical Guild. After reporting to Obreduur, she told Dekkard that it was low-key, but that the women received her well.

  Dekkard kept looking for Jaime Minz, because he wanted a “casual” encounter, except on his terms. Finally, on Furdi morning, just after he’d crossed the street from the covered parking, he saw Minz’s tall burly form and angled his steps to almost bump into the tall isolate.

  “Jaime! I haven’t seen you in days. I didn’t think I’d see you until after recess.”

  For a moment, Minz looked almost annoyed, before smiling broadly. “I thought the same, but you can never tell. Life has its surprises, as you’ve found out. I hear your councilor is visiting Gaarlak, as well as his own district.”

  Dekkard doubted that Obreduur had told Ulrich his plans for the recess, but merely said, “Does Security check bookings on Guldoran Ironway, or does the ironway just report to him?”

  “My, you’re suspicious, Steffan.”

  “The councilor has some political obligations to the Craft Party, just as the Premier has political obligations to the Commerce Party. They both know there will be elections at some point in the next two years.”

  “Elections won’t change anything, Steffan. You know that.”

  “The New Meritorists might have something to say about that.”

  “That handful of superannuated students and disgruntled academics? Hardly.”

  “They did a pretty thorough destruction of the Security Ministry building. That suggests more than academics. They have enough followers to create demonstrations all across Guldor.”

  “If necessary, Security can track them down, but I doubt it will be necessary.”

  “How? From the demonstrators I’ve seen, they look like anyone else. Or will Security just assume that everyone who reads their manifesto or principles is a Meritorist?”

  “You sound like you’ve read it.”

  “If there is such a thing, I wouldn’t even know where to find a copy, but all serious would-be revolutionaries have a set of principles or something of the sort. Even so, that doesn’t mean whoever has a copy is a New Meritorist.”

  “I’d say it was a good indication.”

  “Even if it were, how would you find out who had a copy? Or who printed it?”

  “They couldn’t be that stupid.”

  Dekkard shrugged. “We’re not in the age of scriveners. If there is a book, someone printed it.”

  For just an instant, Minz’s face appeared different, as if Dekkard had given him an insight. Then he said, “There’s probably no book.”

  Dekkard shrugged. “Have it your way. That’s what I heard. Is the Premier going to spend some of the Summerend recess in Veerlyn?”

  “He hasn’t said.”

  Dekkard laughed. “He plans everything out. Don’t tell me you don’t know. If he’s going to stay close to the Imperador and Minister Wyath, it doesn’t bother me.”

  “Steffan…” Minz shook his head, then said cheerfully, “Don’t let your modest promotion go to your head. Security involves more than either of us knows.”

  “I’m sure it involves more than I know. But you know a great deal more than you’re saying.”

  “Not that much more.”

  “As you’ve pointed out, there’s a lot I don’t know.” Dekkard grinned. “But do you really want to wager you don’t know more about Security than you’re saying?”

  “You know security aides shouldn’t wager,” declared Minz heartily. “I need to be going. Enjoy your time in Gaarlak, Oersynt, and Malek.”

  “If we go there, I will,” returned Dekkard as warmly as he could, just remaining where he stood for several moments as Minz walked away.

  He thought Minz had taken the idea, but if he had … Dekkard couldn’t help but wince. Do you really want that to happen? Except he knew that not only Minz and Ulrich, but even Obreduur, were underestimating the anger behind the New Meritorists.

  He was only a few minutes later than usual when he entered the office. Neither Karola nor Ysella looked up as he settled behind his desk and looked at the seven letters waiting.

  By midmorning, he’d turned his drafts over to Margrit.

  As he walked back to his desk, Karola said, “Steffan, the councilor wants to see you.”

  “Did he say why?”

  Karola shook her head.

  When he entered the inner office, Dekkard still worried about what Obreduur wanted, but the older man just smiled and gestured for Dekkard to take a chair. Dekkard did … and waited.

  “Steffan … you’re caught up on your work, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. I’d like you to write a speech. A very specific speech. One that explains in simple, but not simplistic, terms why voting for the Craft Party is in the best interests of crafters and artisans, and also in the best interests of all people. Especially those who want Guldor to continue as a land where a laborer’s children can become crafters and artisans, and where their children can become professionals and magnates of commerce.”

  “Are you expecting the Imperador to call elections?”

  Obreduur shook his head. “I hope to the Three not. That wouldn’t be in our interests at the moment.”

  “If I might ask … then…?”

  “Because I want you to come up with phrasing and words from your heart as well as from your mind. It might take a while. So it’s a good idea to start now.”

  “A speech for you from my heart?”

  Obreduur actually grinned. Dekkard had seen him smile often, but never grin. “No. It’s your speech. After recess, possibly even during our tour, you may have to represent me. For anyone to speak from someone else’s heart never works as well as from one’s own heart. You need to have ideas and phrases that you’re comfortable with locked into your very being, and they have to be honest words and feelings. Otherwise, the people you’re talking to will sense that something’s not right.” Obreduur paused. “A few councilors have the gift of believing that whatever they say at the moment is true. They’re the most dangerous because the only truth they know is deception. That’s why you need to write out what you can say to anyone and feel comfortable with. You also need to phrase it in a way that attacks no one or their beliefs. That’s going to be harder than you think. That’s why you need to start working on it now.” He paused again. “Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir. You said not to attack anyone or their beliefs. Does that mean ever?”

  Obreduur shook his head. “You never begin by attacking. You always begi
n by saying what the Craft Party and you stand for and why those stands are good. We’ll talk about attacks later. First, you have to give people a reason to vote for the Craft Party. So start there.”

  Dekkard wasn’t totally satisfied with those answers, but he could see that Obreduur was serious about beginning with the positive. “Then I will, sir.”

  “Try to enjoy it.” Obreduur smiled. “On your way out, have Karola come in. I have some messages for her to dispatch.”

  Dekkard walked back out and conveyed the message to Karola, then to his desk, sat down, and just looked at the blank sheet of paper he’d taken out without even thinking about it.

  Why did he believe that the Craft Party was the best choice for artisans and crafters, indeed for everyone … and not just because the Commercers and Landors were worse?

  It took him a bell to come up with a very short list:

  The Craft Party stood for fair pay and good jobs.

  It fought for the rights and safety of workers at all levels.

  It supported and pressed for access to education and jobs to be based on ability and skills, not on wealth or parental economic or social position.

  It stood for the Great Charter as drafted and originally implemented.

  Everything else he’d come up with was essentially negative. The party opposed preferential tax treatment for corporacions. It opposed tariffs on agricultural imports, because that raised the cost of food for workers. It opposed differential treatment of workers and the poor by Security forces. It opposed excessive restrictions on the newssheets … and so on.

  After looking at his list, Dekkard shook his head. Those basics looked so simplistic when put down in ink on a sheet of paper, and every party could come up with such a list. So what made the Craft Party different? Because its councilors worked and fought every day? Didn’t all councilors … or their staffs?

  Dekkard looked down at the list again. He didn’t get any more ideas. Finally, he started thinking about a second list, on why he was a Crafter. Was it just because he believed in the value of all work, from the menial to high art and professional expertise, and that he didn’t see that respect in the other two parties? Or because the Craft Party best supported that ideal? Or because he respected its councilors and staffers? Or simply because it was a family tradition?

  By noon, he wasn’t that much farther along, but the lack of progress reminded him of something else. He turned and looked to Ysella. “We need to agree on a final version of that draft Obreduur asked for.”

  Ysella looked up, momentarily puzzled.

  “The engineering one,” he prompted, not wanting to say aloud that it was about Siincleer Shipbuilding and Engaard Engineering.

  “You’re right. Later today.”

  Dekkard nodded in return and went back to pondering his party and principles paper. By the end of the workday, he’d drafted and destroyed more than a few sheets of paper.

  He and Ysella also received copies of their itinerary for the recess tour of Gaarlak, Oersynt, and Malek, a tour that would take most of the month and not return them to Machtarn until the thirty-second of Summerend.

  As he drove Obreduur and Ysella back to the house, dropped them off under the portico, and garaged the Gresynt, he wondered why he was having such difficulty with a simple speech.

  When he left the garage, Ysella was waiting. “We can go over the Siincleer paper before dinner.”

  “That would be good.”

  “You’re upset. What did he ask? You were fine until you came out of his office.”

  “He has me working on a speech on why people should support the Craft Party … and it has to be—”

  “From your heart,” interjected Ysella, smiling. “It’s harder than you thought, isn’t it?”

  “Then he asked the same of you?”

  “Over a year ago, when it became clear that you were the right security aide for him.”

  What does my being the right security aide have to do with Ysella writing a speech?

  At Dekkard’s obvious expression of puzzlement, she replied, “Before that I had to spend more time getting you used to being as effective as possible for Obreduur, and if you hadn’t worked out, I would have had to do it again with another isolate.”

  “You weren’t sure about me for a year?”

  “I didn’t say that,” she replied calmly. “We both knew you were an outstanding security aide. That was only half the question. The other half was whether what you believed wasn’t in conflict with what he believes. We also needed to see if there was any conflict between how you acted and what you said. That took longer because you’re so reserved.”

  “More like cautious,” said Dekkard.

  “I’d agree,” replied Ysella, “but at first it was hard to tell.” She paused for a moment, then went on, “Why don’t we go over the engineering paper now? Then we can talk about the speech after dinner. We’ll have more than a bell before Rhosali sets the staff table.”

  “We should be able to finish by then … unless you have major changes.”

  “I don’t. Just some wording suggestions.”

  Only a few minutes passed before the two were in the staff room. They made very few changes, and Dekkard wrote out two fair copies before surrendering the table to Rhosali and Hyelda.

  Then they entered the family’s side of the house, where Obreduur was actually in the sitting room reading. He looked up, almost as if he’d been expecting them. “Yes?”

  Dekkard handed one of the copies to the councilor. “The paper on the Siincleer corporacions.”

  Obreduur read possibly the first two lines, and then handed it back. “If you wouldn’t mind leaving it on my desk. Thank you both.”

  After that, despite the early-evening heat, while he waited for dinner, Dekkard went out into the side garden, composed entirely of herbs and vegetables cultivated by Hyelda, to be alone and think.

  He still didn’t understand why Obreduur, and even Ysella, had invested so much time and effort in training him. He was an isolate, and while there weren’t any restrictions in the Great Charter set forward on isolates, unlike those on susceptibles, who could not hold public office or vote, or empaths, who could not hold any elective office, Dekkard didn’t know of any isolates who rose much above the position of chief security officer in corporacions, or, occasionally, chief of a Security or patrol station.

  When dinner came, he tried to put those thoughts aside, but, afterward, when he and Ysella walked down the drive to the portico, they flooded back.

  “Are you still concerned about writing that speech?”

  “I am, but that’s not all. I’m sorry. It doesn’t make sense. Why invest in a security aide? I’m not a legalist. I’m not from wealth or power—”

  “That’s exactly why,” she said calmly as she stopped under the portico. “You have an Institute education. You’re intelligent. You speak well. You believe in what he and the Craft Party are trying to do. You work hard and learn quickly. You don’t put on airs just because you’re a Council staffer. And you’re honest. Do you know how few young men, especially young men from a Craft background, have those skills? Very few, the Three know.”

  “What does he expect of me?”

  “I don’t want to guess. I do know that, one way or another, he thinks you have the chance of a bright future if you just keep working at it. I also know it won’t be easy. You’ve already seen the reaction of people like Frieda Livigne and Fernand Stoltz.”

  “And Jaime Minz.”

  There were several moments of silence before she said quietly, “Do you want to talk about the speech itself? It might help for you to just talk.”

  “When I think about what I believe … it’s so simple. It sounds like a slogan. We’re for good and meaningful jobs for people, and we want fair wages for those people. Doesn’t every councilor or candidate for the Council say something like that? We’re for worker rights and safety…” Dekkard shrugged, almost helplessly.

  “Othe
rs say it. That’s true,” agreed Ysella. “What did we do with the Sanitation jobs? Or last year, with the workers in the ceramic pipeworks plant? We didn’t just talk, did we?”

  “So … the Craft Party doesn’t just speak the words people want to hear. Others will claim the same.”

  “What would you say to someone who says all politicians are the same?”

  “That they have to look beyond the words and claims…” Even as he talked and got a better feel for what he might say, Dekkard understood that he had even more to learn.

  57

  ONCE he stepped into the office on Quindi morning, Dekkard immediately went to work drafting replies for the eight letters that Karola had laid on his desk. When he finished those, he returned to working on the “Craft” speech.

  Just before the first bell of the afternoon, Dekkard and Ysella escorted Obreduur to the Council Hall for what would be Premier Ulrich’s Summerend address, traditionally little more than a brief speech filled with platitudes, regardless of who was Premier.

  Once Obreduur left them and they eased back to the far side of the corridor to allow access to the Hall by other councilors, perhaps two out of three with security escorts, Dekkard said, “How much do you think Ulrich will say?”

  “As little as he can.”

  Dekkard nodded. “Have you heard any more from Emrelda?”

  “Only a brief note. She’s fine, and she doesn’t have any more information.”

  “Are you going to see her tomorrow?”

  “I’d thought I would.”

  “Is this a sisters’ day, or would you like company?”

  “I like the order in which you phrased that. Since she’s picking me up, I’ll ask her if she’d like the three of us to go out to dinner. Then I can tell you … if that’s acceptable.”