Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

Obreduur nodded to his wife.

  “Wynan is young for a regional justicer,” Ingrella began. “That is, only a few years younger than we are. He’s from a Landor background, but the youngest of a number of sons. So he decided on a career as a legalist. After about ten years of practice in Uldwyrk, he became known as a very effective litigator. When a Landor slot for a regional justicer opened four years ago, he was close to a unanimous choice because of his integrity, because he was thought to be as impartial as could be expected, and because his knowledge and understanding of the law is quite comprehensive…”

  All that made sense to Dekkard, because with the Great Charter’s requirement that a third of all justicers, both on the regional and the High Justiciary level, had to be presented to the Council from each political party, comparative impartiality was in everyone’s interest.

  “… He is personally a little reserved, but he does like to host gatherings, with a variety of guests. The only rule, if unspoken, is that practical politics and pending legal issues are not to be discussed. Legal and political theory can be and usually are. As for who will be there … that is always up to Wynan and Vivienne.”

  After a little more than a third of a bell, the limousine slipped through the open gates of a dwelling on the north side of the North Quarter on a smooth bitumened drive up to a two-story brick mansion perhaps twice the size of the Obreduur dwelling in Machtarn, stopping under the covered front portico. Seeing no doorman, Dekkard immediately got out and opened both doors.

  A serving maid in green and black livery did open the front door and escorted them to the covered east veranda, where already a score of people had gathered. As Dekkard led the four onto the veranda, a man in a white linen suit with a broad and warm, but slightly shy, smile moved quickly toward them.

  “Ingrella, Axel, I’m so glad you’re both here.” Then he turned to Ysella and Dekkard. “These must be your aides.”

  “Avraal Ysella and Steffan Dekkard,” said Ingrella.

  “Dekkard … you wouldn’t be the Dekkard who won the Institute Martial Arts trophy … six years ago? I’m just guessing, but you look to be about the right age.”

  Dekkard had the feeling he was blushing, but he replied, “If it was six years ago, then yes. Might I ask…?”

  “An older partner in the legalist firm to which I belonged asked me to accompany him to the finals. I couldn’t very well refuse. His son was one of the finalists. You bested him rather effectively. It was a bright spot on that trip.” Chaelynt offered an embarrassed smile.

  “I don’t believe you mentioned that in your credentials file,” said Obreduur with dry amusement.

  “The credentials meister suggested that including it was redundant,” replied Dekkard sardonically.

  “Redundant or not,” replied Chaelynt, “I’m indebted to you. That episode was one of those that inclined me toward a justiciary career.” He gestured. “The sideboards have wine or lager. Please enjoy yourselves. I hope you don’t mind if I spend a few moments reminiscing with Ingrella, Axel.”

  “Not in the slightest,” said Obreduur heartily. “A good lager sounds very welcome.”

  The three moved slowly toward the sideboard on the north edge of the veranda.

  “You’ve never said anything about that,” murmured Ysella.

  “It was a long time ago. I always disliked it when I heard older men boast of their schoolyard successes. I said I’d never do that.”

  “You still surprise me, Steffan,” declared Obreduur.

  Both Obreduur and Dekkard decided on Laencar, a local pale lager, while Ysella had a white wine whose name Dekkard didn’t catch, then they moved out of the late-afternoon sun into the fully shaded part of the veranda. Dekkard sipped the Laencar, then decided it was as good as, if slightly different from, Kuhrs, and it was also not cool, but cold, which he appreciated.

  “How’s the wine?” he asked Ysella.

  “Good. I still think I prefer Silverhills.” She glanced around, trying to sense any possible hostility.

  A tall and broad man a good decade older than Obreduur approached. “Councilor, Wynan pointed you out to me. Orvul Scarsenn.”

  “Of Lakaan Mills?” asked Obreduur.

  “The very same.”

  “It’s good to meet you at last. I’ve heard a great deal about you over the years. Might I introduce you to my aides, Avraal Ysella and Steffan Dekkard.”

  Scarsenn smiled. “Dekkard. Wynan said you were one reason he became a justicer.”

  “Just one of many, I suspect,” replied Dekkard.

  “Would you enlighten me?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t, sir. I’m pleased he’s so complimentary, but that story is strictly his.”

  “Well, since you won’t I’ll have to ask the lady”—Scarsenn turned his attention to Ysella—“how the councilor ever persuaded someone so beautiful to work for him.”

  “He asked me, and I’ve always liked doing security work.”

  “And she’s very good at it,” added Obreduur. “Tell me. Do you think cotton is going to overtake linen any time soon?”

  “Oh … well, it’s bound to happen, but not quickly. Cotton’s more durable, and the cotton engine reduces the time it takes to deseed the lint by a factor of forty, maybe fifty, but it takes a lot of labor to grow the cotton, and you can’t use steam tractors, not so far anyway…”

  Dekkard and Ysella eased away from the councilor and mill owner.

  “Did he feel as obnoxious as he sounded?” asked Dekkard, keeping his voice low.

  “Worse.” Ysella took a healthy swallow of her wine, then studied the two nearest couples, shifting her focus to a man standing alone, who was joined shortly by a woman most likely not his wife, with whom he exchanged a few words before she moved on.

  At that moment, Ingrella appeared, escorting, if not almost dragging, a woman in a pale green dress with a filmy white jacket. “Ysella, Steffan, since Axel’s tied up with Orvul Scarsenn, I wanted Martenya to meet you two. Martenya, here are the two I’ve been talking about.”

  Dekkard wished he knew why Ingrella wanted them to meet the woman, but he only said, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

  “As am I,” added Ysella.

  “Is it really true that you two were the ones who stopped and captured that empie assassin who killed Councilor Aashtaan?”

  Ysella nodded to Dekkard.

  “It would be more accurate to say that Avraal blunted the empie’s attack and saved two councilors and then slowed the attacker enough that I could catch and restrain her.”

  “He not only did that, but he also stopped her from poisoning a good score of people with Atacaman fire pepper dust,” added Ysella.

  “Where exactly in the Council Hall did this happen?” asked Martenya.

  “Just outside the councilors’ dining room…”

  For almost a third of a bell, Dekkard and Ysella answered the woman’s questions, until Obreduur freed himself from Scarsenn, and she turned her attention on the councilor.

  Dekkard and Ysella eased back, and Dekkard asked Ingrella, “Might I ask who—”

  The first response to his question was an impish smile. “Martenya Oguire is the owner and publisher of the Gaarlak Times. She wanted a word with Axel, but I pointed out that combining just meeting him with his two aides who were heroes would make a better story, since the full story was never printed in Gestirn. She agreed.”

  Dekkard took a healthy swallow of his remaining lager. He was about to head back to the sideboard when a thin man about Ingrella’s age approached.

  “Ritten Obreduur? I’m Maximus Heinel.”

  “Gabrel Heinel’s father? How is he?”

  “Doing very well, thank you…”

  Dekkard and Ysella moved away, and Dekkard could see that a few more people had arrived so that there were perhaps fifteen couples.

  A few minutes later, Ingrella disengaged herself and Obreduur moved toward the three, accompanied by a white-haired man in a pale lavender linen su
it, a dark lavender shirt, and a cravat lighter than the shirt and darker than the suit.

  “Ingrella, dear, might I present Emilio Raathan, the noted councilor from Gaarlak?”

  “I’m scarcely noted, Axel,” protested Raathan, “but I did want to see if perhaps you and Ingrella, and your aides, could join Patriana and me for light midday refreshments tomorrow, say around first bell.”

  Obreduur looked to his wife, who immediately replied, “That would be so lovely, Emilio, but we wouldn’t want to put you out or disrupt any plans you might have made.”

  “Oh, no, it would be our pleasure. It truly would be.”

  “Then we will be there,” replied Ingrella.

  “We will see you at first bell.” Raathan extended a card. “Here is our address. Patriana will be so pleased.” Then he inclined his head, smiled warmly, and turned away.

  “Interesting,” said Ingrella. “From that, one would think that you were close friends.”

  “When we’re barely acquaintances, you mean?” replied Obreduur.

  Ingrella offered an enigmatic smile.

  Dekkard turned to Ysella. “He seemed genuine. Was he?”

  “Mostly. There weren’t disturbing undercurrents.”

  Dekkard nodded. That didn’t mean they wouldn’t have to be alert. “I imagine the food will be good.”

  “It will be very good,” said Obreduur. “Emilio is said to be a gourmet.”

  Within moments, a series of chimes echoed across the veranda, rung by a tall woman in a shimmering and almost slinky white dress that particularly suited her. Since she stood beside Justicer Chaelynt, she had to be his wife.

  The justicer’s voice was strong as he declared, “Vivienne has informed me that dinner will be served at the tables on the west veranda in exactly one sixth. So if you would make your way there and find your place card…”

  Dekkard and Ysella trailed the Obreduurs as they made their way through the veranda doors and along the corridor to the central hallway and then to the west veranda. The corridor was decorated with paintings of landscapes, none of which Dekkard recognized, flanked by green velvet hangings and against an off-white wall.

  “Very modest,” murmured Ysella. “Still, even a regional justicer couldn’t afford this, and since he has a reputation for impartiality and integrity, his wife must have brought some wealth to the marriage. She is rather striking.”

  “She is,” Dekkard replied politely, thinking that he found Ysella more striking. “They’re an imposing couple.”

  “I wonder what their children are like,” mused Ysella.

  “Children? How do you know they have any?”

  “Because I saw one of them peering down the center hall steps when we came in.”

  Dekkard hadn’t noticed that at all. “How old?”

  “She looked to be about ten. She was composed. Not at all excited, and very serious.”

  When they stepped out onto the veranda, Dekkard immediately saw two long tables, covered in dark green linen, with places set.

  “Let’s see where the Obreduurs are seated. They won’t be together, and neither will we.”

  Dekkard and Ysella followed and observed, discovering that the Obreduurs were seated at the same table and that Ysella had been positioned at the second table, but where she could observe Obreduur easily. Dekkard was at the second table, near the end, where he could move easily … if necessary.

  In the end, Dekkard found himself between two women, Amarra Hyelsted and Rachyla Haelkoch, both of whom he seated. Then he sat down.

  “You must be one of Councilor Obreduur’s aides,” said Amarra Hyelsted.

  “I am, but why do you say that?”

  The older black-haired and narrow-faced woman offered an amused smile. “Because I know most of the others and because you’re too young and handsome to be anything else. What sort of an aide are you?”

  “I’m an assistant economic aide and a security specialist.”

  “My … an economist with weapons. How good are you?”

  The younger Rachyla Haelkoch, younger meaning that the darker-skinned blonde was only about a decade older than Dekkard, said, “Justicer Chaelynt said he was one of the best. He saw him in action years ago.”

  “How interesting,” said Hyelsted blandly. “Wynan knows so many unusual people … from his … profession. It’s very nice to meet you, Steffan.” She smiled politely and turned to talk to the man to her left.

  “I think it’s more than interesting,” declared Rachyla Haelkoch, adding under her breath, “Don’t mind Amarra. She prefers to talk upward … as if it made any difference. If you wouldn’t mind, could you tell me how you ended up working for the councilor?”

  Dekkard had no doubts about whom he’d be conversing most with over dinner.

  63

  ON Furdi, since the Obreduurs had breakfast delivered to their suite, Dekkard and Ysella met in the restaurant of the Ritter’s Inn to eat and to discuss what they’d learned the night before. According to Obreduur’s instructions, Dekkard wore black slacks and a green barong, which meant he definitely had to carry the much shorter personal truncheon, but the brace of throwing knives was still practical. Ysella wore a cream summer jacket and skirt with a maroon blouse. Her headscarf, loosely around her neck, was a near-transparent cream.

  Neither said much until after their first mug of café.

  “What did you think of Chaelynt?” Dekkard finally asked.

  “He’s all that Ingrella said … and that’s rare among Landors.”

  “It’s even rarer among Commercers, I suspect. What about Scarsenn?”

  “I told you last night. There’s nothing to add.”

  Dekkard nodded. “After we eat, we need to see if that newssheet owner actually ran a story.”

  “I already picked up a copy,” said Ysella. “Two, actually. I thought you might like one to give to your parents.” She handed a newssheet across the table. “It starts on the front page.”

  “Is it good or bad?”

  “You tell me.”

  Dekkard began to read. The small headline read COUNCILOR AND HEROIC AIDES IN GAARLAK. He winced and continued.

  A midweek reception with dinner is rare enough in Gaarlak, but more so in Summerend … and even more so when among the invitees are the noted Crafter Councilor, Axel Obreduur, his equally noted wife, Ritten Ingrella Obreduur, the legalist whose efforts resulted in obtaining equal pay for women supervisors in Gaarlak Mills, and the Councilor’s two aides—Avraal Ysella and Steffan Dekkard—whose efforts captured the killer of Councilor Aashtaan and protected a number of Councilors …

  Dekkard skipped over the account of the attack and concentrated on the part dealing with Obreduur.

  … when asked why he was visiting Gaarlak when his own district was Malek, the Councilor said that he and his family were spending only a few days in Gaarlak to visit old friends, pointing out that earlier in life he’d been the guild coordinator for an area that included both Malek and Gaarlak and that Ritten Obreduur and Regional Justicer Chaelynt had been professional associates. In commenting on the Kraffeist Affair, Councilor Obreduur said that the matter was “totally unacceptable” and “amounted to the theft of public resources.” He also said that the ruling Commerce Party had failed to dig deeply enough into the scandal …

  When he finished, Dekkard looked at Ysella. “There’s as much in the story about us as the councilor.”

  “Why wouldn’t there be? People like to read about assassinations and violence more than about what politicians think.”

  Dekkard had to agree with that. He started to hand the newssheet back.

  “Keep it. That’s your copy. I bought the last two. The desk clerk said that for some reason the newssheets were selling out early this morning.”

  “Did the clerk say anything to you?”

  Ysella smiled. “Not a word. I don’t look like a hero.”

  Dekkard shook his head, then took a bite of the croissant he’d ordered—stuffed w
ith quince paste. “What about your dinner companions?”

  “One was the head legalist for Gaarlak Mills, and I asked him about the supervisory rule. He said he was glad that Ingrella and Namoor Desharra had won. He meant it. So I asked why. He said that most of the women supervisors had less trouble and fewer slowdowns on their lines, and he’d never thought it was fair they weren’t paid as much, but he’d never been able to do much. He was polite, even if his feelings of attraction were a little much.”

  The legalist’s emotional pressure on Ysella irritated Dekkard, but he knew it had bothered her even more. “What about your other companion?”

  “He was a much older Landor with estates to the west. Very nice. He treated me like a favorite granddaughter. He did say he was disappointed that Councilor Raathan didn’t seem willing to stand up to the Commercers the way the Craft councilors did. What about your companions?”

  “One older Landor snob who was rather condescending and only gave me a few perfunctory words and one charming wife of the district manager of Guldoran Ironway. She wanted to know about being an aide to a councilor, but we finally talked about the ironways. She professed not to know much, but I think she knew more than Deron—”

  “Deron?”

  “Oh … you weren’t there. The Guldoran Ironway director who visited Obreduur. Anyway, she told me about scheduling and shunting problems, and others. Interesting, but not political. Except there was one thing … something to the effect that the special supplemental ironway funding wouldn’t be as large this year, and that would cause maintenance delays in the Gaarlak area. I was under the impression that the maintenance funding for all ironways had to be in one package. I never saw a special ironway supplemental. It could be it has another name, but I’d at least like to ask Obreduur about it.” Dekkard shrugged. “So … nothing really exciting or interesting.”

  “We’ve got another two thirds before we meet Obreduur. Since he’s on the Waterways Committee, it’s obvious why we’re visiting the Upper Gaarlak Locks, but do you know why we’re visiting Gaarlak Cabinetry?”

  “It’s on the way to the locks, and it must be owned by someone Obreduur knows.”