Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Working Women Guild and who else?”

  “Why did you guess the Working Women Guild?”

  The guild serving the women in brothels and massage parlors had just come to mind, but Dekkard wasn’t about to say it was a guess. “It seems to me that only the Craft Party is willing to deal with them and their problems.”

  “That’s half of it. But the other half is that as working women they’re entitled to vote … and they haven’t voted as much as they could. Except in a few places, like Ondeliew.”

  “And that’s how Harleona Zerlyon was elected?”

  “The women made the difference. It was actually Ritten Obreduur’s idea.”

  That did surprise Dekkard. “No one ever mentions Ritten Obreduur in a political context, only as a legalist.”

  “She was trained as a legalist, and worked for the Hotel and Food Service Guild of Malek. She met the councilor through the guilds. After they’d been married several years, she and her friends persuaded him to run for the Council. She worked to get the guilds where women were strong behind him. Before the last election, back in 1261, the councilor from Ondeliew tried to pass legislation that would have classed women who worked in the brothels as part-time workers, which would have meant they would have lost the right to vote. Ingrella went to Ondeliew to help Harleona Zerlyon get elected.”

  Dekkard managed to keep his jaw in place, realizing finally what had been nagging him about Gaarlak. “Something more is definitely happening. Remember that Ritten Obreduur spent some of the spring in Gaarlak. She was gone almost a month.”

  “I knew she’d gone, but Obreduur mentioned she was consulting with guild legalists.”

  “If we’re going, for the first time, and Ritten Obreduur spent a month there, and all three of us are speaking, there’s definitely more happening than we’ve been told.”

  “Or perhaps the councilor is planning in case more does happen,” suggested Ysella.

  “Something will happen during Summerend recess,” said Dekkard, “something planned by the New Meritorists. What that might be, I don’t know. I just feel it will.” After a moment, he added, “I need to see if Ritten Obreduur needs anything else hoisted or carried.”

  “Gustoff should be doing that.”

  “Axeli didn’t when he was here last year. So why do you expect Gustoff to carry anything this year?”

  “Oh … I could hope…”

  Then they both laughed.

  60

  ON Duadi, everyone was up early, because the Oersynt Express left Imperial Station precisely at two thirds after the first bell. While the Obreduurs visited family in Malek every Summerend, usually the visit lasted four weeks, not counting the two-day trip each way by express train. On the way, Obreduur stopped and spent several days in Oersynt on political and guild matters, while the family continued on to Malek. According to the itinerary, though, this time the entire family would stop in Gaarlak for three days, and then in Oersynt for another four.

  After breakfast, Dekkard helped load all the luggage into the two large Kharlan limousines in the drive. The limousines pulled away from the house well before first bell, with Ysella and the family, except for Axeli, who was serving as a temporary midshipman on a Guldoran cruiser, in the first Kharlan and Dekkard and the bulk of the luggage in the second.

  Imperial Station was a half mille west of Imperial Boulevard on Council Avenue, and both Kharlans arrived together just before first bell, moving into the unloading zone reserved for councilors, ministers, and deputy and assistant ministers. Despite frequent scrubbing, the tall golden-white marble columns were slightly tinged with soot, but the windows sparkled in the early-morning sun. When Dekkard got out of the Kharlan, he could see the heat haze spreading over the city, although the Imperador’s Palace shone golden white to the northeast of the station.

  In another fifteen minutes, with the aid of three porters and their carts, the entire party was on board the Oersynt Express, in three first-class compartments. Dekkard just hoped that Nellara and Gustoff remained civil in the compartment they shared. For the moment, the door of the compartment Dekkard and Ysella would share remained open so that she could more easily sense anyone of a dubious nature.

  Dekkard stood inside the open door and surveyed the compartment, since his ironway travels had afforded him only the dubious comfort of standard carriage seats, while the dark blue velvet seat on which Ysella sat, half-turned from the large window, promised greater ease and far greater legroom, not to mention privacy. The paneling was the older black walnut, rather than yellow cedar, although not many carriages had been finished with the cedar, which pleased Dekkard, while the floor was carpeted in gray with a design of intertwined gold and blue spirals.

  “I didn’t see anyone following us. Did you sense anything unusual?” he finally asked.

  “Not so far. Except that Nellara’s anything but pleased.”

  “Because of Gustoff?”

  “More because she doesn’t want to leave Machtarn and her friends. She’s at that age where family is a bother.”

  “Is that more of a problem with girls? I don’t recall feeling that way.”

  Ysella just looked at Dekkard. Finally, she shook her head. “You just ignored family and did as you wanted. You probably stayed close to family rules, unlike most young men. Girls don’t have that freedom. Especially girls from well-off or powerful families … or long-established Landor clans. So friends, or those whom they convince themselves are friends, mean more. That’s because parents never understand.” The sarcasm of the last sentence wasn’t lost on Dekkard.

  The first-class steward, wearing a deep blue uniform trimmed with silver piping, strode down the center corridor, saying, “The express will be leaving in half a third, half a third.”

  Dekkard waited until the steward passed, then said, “I didn’t dare break the rules. If my mother’s words didn’t blister me, my father would have made sure I never thought about breaking them again.”

  “I thought you said your father was the lenient one.”

  “He was—until my mother laid down the law. If she said I’d disobeyed her, my father would have made certain I couldn’t sit down for a week.”

  “Did that ever happen?”

  “Only once. I was thirteen and made a condescendingly flippant comment about how she couldn’t possibly understand what I felt.”

  “Only a problem with girls?” asked Ysella gently.

  “I never thought they were a bother … only that they didn’t understand. Since I never had many friends, I didn’t miss being away from them. But I never said anything about them not understanding again. That one time Father had me against the wall in a moment. He’s broader than I am, and he’s almost fifty. I still remember standing to eat because I couldn’t sit down.”

  “Your mother’s the reason they left Argental, isn’t she?”

  “They never spoke of it.” Dekkard paused. “I always had the impression that leaving wasn’t easy, but the only specific I ever heard—saw, really—was what she wrote in a letter a month or so ago. The one where she mentioned the demonstration in Oersynt. She wrote that she heard the shots, and her exact words were ‘you don’t ever forget that sound.’ So it was obviously much harder than I’d thought, but I never thought it was easy.”

  “How did they feel about your attending the Institute?”

  “After it was clear I was an isolate and that I’d never be a good artisan, they were for it. Being an isolate meant I had one of the important talents for security. My father felt people should follow their talents and love what they did. Loving what they did came first, but he also said people who loved what they didn’t have the talent for were fools.”

  “He sounds like a very practical man. Did they ever talk about Argental?”

  “They’d occasionally describe Cimaguile, or how cold the winters were, especially if any of us complained about being cold. Father used to say, ‘You don’t know what cold is.’ My mother gave a knowing smi
le when he said that, because that was always what he said.”

  “Parents often have a habit of repeating themselves,” said Ysella.

  “What phrases did your parents repeat?”

  “‘The melon stays close to the vine.’ That was one of my father’s that I particularly disliked. The one that Emrelda detested was the one he threw at her when she married Markell—‘Early ripe, early rotten.’”

  “That’s terrible.”

  “Mother’s sayings were like platitudes. ‘There’s never an ill wind that doesn’t blow some good.’ Another was ‘Small potatoes are sweeter.’ None of us are much for sayings. Then that might be because none of us have children.”

  At that moment, there was a slight jolt, and the carriage began to move, slowly at first. Within a sixth, the train was moving close to thirty milles a bell as it turned northeast. To his left, Dekkard could see only the top of the Imperial Palace above the low buildings flanking the three parallel sets of rails that stretched ahead through the level and fertile lands and woods separating Machtarn and Gaarlak.

  He just hoped that Nellara would settle down so that her emotions didn’t grate on Ysella and that he and Ysella could get some enjoyment out of the trip.

  61

  WHILE the first-class carriage and the dining carriage of the Oersynt Express were elegant and comfortable, and Dekkard and Ysella had time to talk and read, the scenery on the way to Gaarlak was pleasantly repetitious, with the low hills north of Machtarn giving way to fields of all sorts, and then more fields, interspersed with small forests better termed woodlots, in turn giving way to more fields, occasionally spiced by a pond or small lake, or a stream … for the entire ten bells it took to reach Gaarlak. Even the dinner in the dining carriage was pleasant, although Dekkard’s cumin-roasted game hen verged on the bland. When the express neared Gaarlak, the fields were a sea of blue flax flowers, not surprising, given that Gaarlak was the center of Guldoran linen and linseed oil production.

  From what Dekkard could see from the carriage window as the Oersynt Express pulled into Gaarlak, the city was perhaps a tenth the size of Machtarn, with the ironway station near the center, and there was even less haze than in Machtarn. Two steamhacks conveyed the Obreduur party to the Ritter’s Inn, a modest four-story red brick structure in the upper side of the center city. Farther to the east lay the mills powered by the waters of the Lakaan River where they left the higher ground that sloped into the fertile lowlands.

  Dekkard was sweating when they reached the inn, because Gaarlak was warmer than Machtarn, and the air was damper. The Obreduur family took the Knight’s Suite, while Dekkard and Ysella had separate rooms, on each side of the suite. Even though Dekkard hadn’t exerted himself that much, he discovered that he was more tired than he realized, and he found himself dozing off while trying to read a sequel to The Son of Gold, entitled The Scarlet Daughter, which he had borrowed from the Obreduurs’ library. The novels might have reflected Ingrella Obreduur’s tastes more than her husband’s, but he had no way of knowing that.

  When he woke on Tridi morning, Dekkard felt sticky, but shaving and a shower helped, and he was ready well before Obreduur’s breakfast meeting with the Gaarlak guildmeisters and others in the inn’s private dining room. He wore one of his light gray summer suits with the long truncheon and his staff pin, which was definitely bending the rules, and his concealed throwing knives. Ysella was ready as well, also wearing a gray suit and a small gray purse with narrow straps. They waited for Obreduur outside the door of the second-floor suite.

  When the Obreduurs appeared, the Ritten’s presence was a momentary surprise, but it made sense, given that she was a legalist and already involved in guild affairs. The councilor wore a white linen suit, while his wife also wore a linen suit, except hers was pale green.

  Obreduur gestured to Dekkard, who led the way to the wide staircase connecting the first two levels. The third and fourth stories were accessed by narrower staircases, in the style of structures built from the mid-1100s until just before the turn of the century, but the heavy maroon carpeting on the steps was nearly new, and the brass lighting fixtures on the wall glistened from a recent polishing. From the staircase, Dekkard led the way across the smooth dark gray slate floor past the small restaurant, seemingly only a third full, toward the private dining room.

  A short and wiry man with thinning brown hair and a high forehead stood outside the open door.

  “That’s Jens Seigryn,” said Obreduur quietly. “He’s the Craft Party coordinator for the Gaarlak district.”

  As the four neared, Seigryn stepped forward and said, “Axel! Welcome to Gaarlak … and to you, too, Ingrella.”

  “It’s good to see you again, Jens,” declared Obreduur warmly.

  Ingrella smiled and inclined her head.

  “I’d like you to meet two of my assistants,” said the councilor. “The tall young man is Steffan Dekkard. He handles economic, tariff, and other trade matters—”

  “And security, I’d wager,” replied Seigryn.

  “—and this is Avraal Ysella, who handles agriculture and women’s guild matters … and security.”

  Seigryn grinned, looking at Dekkard and then Ysella. “He’ll never change. He wants anyone who works for him to handle at least two jobs. That because he’s usually doing three or four, and he thinks that’s normal.”

  Obreduur said cheerfully, “I’m not that bad. Most of the time, anyway.”

  Ingrella looked to Seigryn and said dryly, “He still has certain illusions.”

  Dekkard had to struggle to keep from grinning.

  “It’s good he has you, Ingrella,” replied Seigryn. “Before we go in, I thought I’d better tell you who’s here. I couldn’t get everyone, but I did get most of them, except for Yorik Haansel of the Stonemasons Guild. There’s Arleena Desenns, guildmeister of the Weavers Guild…” His eyes went to Dekkard with the words of explanation, and Dekkard understood that they were for him and Ysella. “… Gretna Haarl, assistant guildmeister of the Textile Millworkers, Haasan Decaro, guildmeister of the Machineworkers, Jon Eliver, deputy guildmeister of the Farmworkers, and Johan Lamarr, guildmeister of the Crafters. I’d have preferred Kharl Maatsuyt, the Textile Millworkers guildmeister, instead of Gretna Haarl. Gretna can be … difficult.”

  “You did the best you could,” replied Obreduur.

  Dekkard concentrated on the names, trying to remember them all and suspecting that he’d have even more names to know, or at least recognize, by the time they left Gaarlak.

  “What can I say about your aides?” asked Seigryn.

  “You know about Avraal. Steffan comes from a solid artisan family, was a top-ten graduate of the Institute, and deals with trade and other issues affecting crafters and artisans.”

  “You got a Triumphing Ten, Axel?” Seigryn looked to Dekkard. “Why did you ever agree to work for him?”

  Dekkard smiled sheepishly. “I liked what I saw.”

  “Good choice.” Seigryn turned to Obreduur. “I’ll lead the way in. You and Ingrella come in last. There are place cards for each of you. I had trouble getting a big enough circular table, but that’s what you wanted.”

  Place cards? That meant that Seigryn had known who he and Ysella were, but wanted to see how Obreduur presented them and how he and Ysella reacted. Welcome to the meet and greet side of politics.

  Seigryn turned and walked toward the open door.

  Dekkard gestured for Ysella to walk beside him. She shook her head and murmured, “We’re not married. So I’m less important here where it’s traditional. I need to go first.”

  Since it wasn’t his place to argue, he just smiled wryly and nodded, then followed her.

  The private dining room was simply an oblong chamber some eight yards long and six wide. Below the chair rail, the walls were of darkened oak paneling, while the plaster walls above were a pale cream, as was the ceiling. The maroon carpeting was the same as that on the main stairs, and the crown molding was painted to m
atch the carpet.

  Five people stood to one side of the table, set with silver cutlery and a plain white linen cloth, two women and three men. Once everyone was inside, Seigryn closed the chamber door and said, “All of you know Councilor Obreduur, and we’re glad that you kindly agreed to meet with him. Besides the councilor, and his wife Ingrella, the noted legalist who has been assisting craft guilds here, and all over Guldor, are two of his assistants. Avraal Ysella is experienced in land-management issues and has worked with guilds on workplace problems. Steffan Dekkard comes from a long line of artisans, but is also experienced in security matters and artisan issues dealing with tariffs, trade, and workplace conditions.”

  After the briefest pause, Seigryn went on. “As you’ve noticed from the place cards, we’ve spaced out the councilor, his wife the legalist, and the aides among you, but feel free to move to discuss whatever you have in mind as the breakfast progresses. If you’d find your seats … we’ll have the blessing.” Seigryn nodded to Obreduur. “Councilor…”

  Although Dekkard knew that the Trinitarian faith was stronger in smaller cities, and especially in rural communities, and that a blessing before a meal was usual, he’d been in Machtarn long enough that the request almost surprised him.

  The councilor bowed his head slightly, and intoned, “Almighty and Trinity of Love, Power, and Mercy, we thank you for the solidity you bring to this world, for the order of time and of the material. We also ask that you grant us the wisdom to understand that the world is filled with illusion, that all material goods are fleeting vanities, and that the greatest vanity of all is to seek power for its own sake, rather than to share it in doing good. We humbly ask you to bless the companionship of this gathering and for the food we will partake, in the name of the Three in One.”

  “The Three in One,” murmured those around the table, including Dekkard.

  Before they all took their seats, Dekkard glanced around, noting the handsome black-haired man seated between Obreduur and his wife, and asked Seigryn, whose place at the table was to Dekkard’s right, who the man between the Obreduurs was.