“I understand the reason, but you’re not like that.”
“The Great Charter’s based on the common good, not on the behavior of the best.”
“If it is…”
“Why are the Commercers effectively ruling for their good and not everyone else’s?” asked Ysella sardonically.
“That’s a good way of putting it.”
“Thank you.” She paused. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to try to sleep a little. Last night … I had trouble.”
“I’ll be quiet.” That wouldn’t be hard for Dekkard. He needed to think.
74
BY the time Dekkard and Ysella were back in Machtarn at the Obreduur house, and they’d taken care of everything that was necessary so that they could go back to work at the Council Office Building on Unadi, it was late, partly because the Machtarn Express had been delayed by rerouting near Gaarlak, due to track damage from excessive rain, rain that had never reached Oersynt or Malek. By then, neither wanted to do much more than to get some sleep.
Even so, Dekkard woke up early on Unadi and was the first down to breakfast, except for Hyelda, of course, who immediately asked, “Is it true what Gestirn said? Did someone try to kill the councilor?”
“Yes, someone did,” lied Dekkard, since there had actually been three, but it was best that the other two attempts remain publicly unnoticed.
“What did the councilor do to deserve that?”
“I don’t know for certain. Dead would-be assassins usually can’t tell you why,” said Dekkard dryly. “I’d guess that they were hired because he’s been effective in strengthening the Craft Party. There’s no possible way to prove that, though.”
Hyelda shook her head. “Even the Three don’t seem to know where this poor world’s going.”
Dekkard wasn’t about to disagree. Instead, he picked up the morning edition of Gestirn. “Let’s see what’s in the newssheet.”
“Not much.” Hyelda snorted and stepped back into the kitchen.
Dekkard poured himself a mug of café and quickly scanned the newssheet. The story on the demonstrations included others he hadn’t known, in Uldwyrk and Surpunta, and the destruction of regional Security headquarters in those three cities as well. The last paragraph added that a number of the buildings had been destroyed by dunnite explosions.
He replaced the newssheet on the side table and was still thinking when Ysella arrived.
“Any more news about the demonstrations?”
“More cities and three more regional Security headquarters damaged or destroyed, some confirmed to be from dunnite explosions. I’d wager they all were.”
“Dunnite? They use that for naval shells, don’t they?”
“Also for commercial blasting. It’s fairly safe, essentially inert until detonated. They could have placed those charges a year ago, or longer. They probably did, in fact. That way, they could create the impression of a far larger movement than really exists.”
“Planted the way that they did when they destroyed the water tunnel?”
“Most likely. Street repairs, sewer inspections or repair. Especially sewer repairs. No one really wants to inspect sewer repairs.”
“Do you think there will be more explosions?” asked Ysella.
“There might be, but if there are, the dunnite’s already in place. For now, Security will be watching for something like that, and the New Meritorists have to know it.” Dekkard smiled as he saw the quince paste and immediately took two slices for his morning croissants. “Also, there aren’t that many regional Security headquarters left, although most people wouldn’t know.” He frowned. “Even with controlled demolition techniques, at a guess, that amounts to probably five tonnes of dunnite. My question is where they got so much dunnite without Security knowing about it. Only mining corporacions…”
“… or ironways with mines,” added Ysella. “You need to mention that to Obreduur on the drive this morning.”
“I will.” And if I don’t, you’ll remind me.
“What else might they have planned?” she asked.
Dekkard shrugged as he took several bites of his croissant, then finally said, “Something vulnerable, and something that only hurts or kills people in Security or councilors. And not Security patrollers, just Security bureaucrats and agents. That’s mostly the way they’ve been attacking.”
“They have to have sources inside Security,” added Ysella. “More than one or two.”
“But they could be clerks.”
“They most likely are. No one pays much attention to women.” Ysella’s tone was sardonically bitter.
The two only talked about the New Meritorists for a few minutes more, until Rhosali appeared. Then they finished eating. After that, Dekkard readied himself and the Gresynt.
Once Dekkard had the dark green steamer on Imperial Boulevard, he said, “Sir … there’s something about those explosions. They were apparently all accomplished with dunnite, and it took quite a few tonnes. So how did the New Meritorists get their hands on so much? It’s supposedly restricted to the Navy and Army … and licensed corporacions…”
“That’s a very good question, Steffan. Why don’t you write me up something about that today? It could be useful when the Council goes back in session tomorrow. Don’t ask anyone outside the office for information, either.”
“Yes, sir.”
The first thing Dekkard noticed when he neared the Council Office Building was a far greater number of Council Guards, both around the entrance as well as at the entrance to the covered parking, where he had to stop and show his Council passcard, despite the Council staff pin he wore on his security grays. He was stopped again at the building entrance and had to produce the passcard once more. He also saw the guards inspecting cases and boxes.
The main hallway in the Council Office Building wasn’t as crowded as it usually was in the morning, because the Council wouldn’t be in session until Duadi and some councilors and staffers hadn’t yet returned from their districts or vacations. But when Dekkard reached the office he found a stack of letters and petitions on his desk.
“Welcome back,” said Karola cheerfully.
“Thank you. It’s a bit earlier than anyone planned.”
“Especially the councilor,” returned Karola. “He asked for Ivann as soon as he walked through the door.”
“That’s not surprising. Has anything happened here?”
Karola shook her head. “You and Avraal were where things happened.”
“We did have an interesting three weeks.” He glanced to Ysella, who was sorting through a stack of letters and petitions. “And now we’re back to correspondence and petitions.”
“For the moment,” murmured Ysella.
Dekkard settled behind his desk and eased the pile to one side. Writing about the dunnite issue for Obreduur was more important than the correspondence. He paused, recalling he also had to ask Macri about the hidden supplemental funding for Guldoran Ironway.
First things first.
After less than a bell he had a very rough draft, but he needed more on one aspect of the law. So he made his way to Macri’s desk, since the senior legalist had finally finished meeting with Obreduur.
Macri looked up. “You need something for him, I take it.”
Dekkard nodded. “Two things. The first is the legal restrictions, if any, on who can manufacture, store, and use dunnite. I know it’s the basis for munitions, but not small arms, because cordite is used in bullets.”
Macri frowned.
“At a rough estimate, it took several tonnes of dunnite to damage as many as fifteen regional Security headquarters buildings. Where did the New Meritorists get it? Could they just go to Northwest Industrial Chemical and buy five tonnes?”
Macri smiled. “You’re likely right, but Svard knows more about that than I do.”
“Thank you.” Dekkard heard a groan from Roostof. Then he walked to Roostof’s desk. “You heard the question?”
“I’d have t
o go to the regulations library and have someone dig out the requirements—”
“The councilor says we can’t do that. Not right now. What can you tell me?”
“This is from memory…”
Dekkard nodded.
“Any single purchase of more than a decem of dunnite has to be recorded and turned in to Security within a week.”
“Just ten pounds’ worth?”
“Just ten. Any single purchase of ten decems has to be reported the next workday. Also, you have to have a license from Security to purchase or store more than five decems at a time. Failure to have a license the first time is a fine of ten thousand marks. A second violation means five to ten years’ incarceration, in addition to a twenty-thousand-mark fine.”
“Then they either got it through an industrial front corporacion or stole it.”
“That would be my guess,” returned the legalist. “I’d be willing to bet that they stole it from either Northwest Industrial Chemical or Suvion Industries. But it wouldn’t have seemed to be a theft. They likely used a Navy supply lorry, or a lorry marked perfectly as one, with a legal-looking manifest. Maybe they even caused the breakdown of a real lorry and then made the pickup of a shipment destined for the naval munitions factory in Siincleer. That’s how I’d do it.”
Dekkard nodded. “I’d wager they did it over a year ago.”
“So everyone would lose track of it.”
“And because it took a lot of time and effort to transport that all over Guldor and get it placed.”
“That wouldn’t be as hard as it sounds. It just looks like some sort of yellowish powder, like the color of yellow brick.”
“Turn it into false bricks, and you could carry it anywhere,” mused Dekkard.
“If you didn’t get it too hot.”
“I imagine they were careful.” Dekkard paused. “You’re sure about the regulations.”
“The basics, but there’s a lot more paperwork involved, especially for the manufactory.”
“What you gave me will do for now. Thank you.”
Roostof paused. “You and Avraal had a few problems, didn’t you?”
“Did the councilor send a report to Ivann?”
Roostof nodded. “That’s all he said.”
“There were two attempts on him, one in Gaarlak, and one in Oersynt at the Summerend Festival.” Dekkard decided not to mention the server at the legalists’ reception.
“Did they catch them?”
“In a way. They’re both dead. One fell off a balcony trying to escape, and a patroller shot the other one after I wounded him.”
Roostof smiled ironically. “That’s not the whole story.”
“That’s what’s in the Security reports,” replied Dekkard blandly. “That’s the way it is.”
“Then that’s the way it will be.” Roostof shook his head. “Better you than me.”
“Thank you for the information. I need to finish writing it up for the councilor.”
Dekkard returned to Macri’s desk.
The senior legalist looked up with a tired expression. “What’s the second thing?”
“A hidden use of supplemental funding…” Dekkard went on to explain what he’d found out from his dinner conversation with the wife of Guldoran Ironway’s district manager and the so-called special supplemental funding for the ironway. “… and Obreduur said I should let you know about it because, if it’s so, then the Council is giving special treatment to Guldoran, and not to Eastern or Southwestern … and that might be very useful to know right now.”
Macri frowned. “It might be hard to find out.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.” Dekkard walked back to his desk just as a Council messenger left the office, no doubt with a number of missives from Obreduur. Dekkard sat down and continued work on the dunnite paper, after which he returned it to Roostof for him to review before giving it to Margrit.
Once that was done, he went to work on the letters and petitions, beginning with one asking why Obreduur had been in Gaarlak when it wasn’t even in his district. Dekkard decided to tell the truth, if gently—that Obreduur had two jobs, one as a councilor for his district and one as the political leader of the Craft party, which meant that, when the local Craft Party requested his presence, it was his duty to work that request in, if possible, and that he’d done so at a time that did not impinge on his duties as a councilor.
By the end of the workday, Dekkard was caught up with the letters and petitions and, unsurprisingly, he’d also caught only glimpses of a very busy Obreduur, who had sent out a storm of messages, and received almost as many, and met with three other councilors who had come to the office—Hasheem, Mardosh, and Wersh, the latter a former Lumber guildmeister from Jaykarh.
Once Dekkard picked up Obreduur and Ysella, and they were headed back to the house, Obreduur said, “That was just the right touch on that letter asking why I was in Gaarlak. I only changed a few words. Also, the dunnite report might prove useful.”
“I checked on the law with Roostof. He said that was as specific as he could get without getting a search of the regulatory library.”
“We’ll just have to see what happens.”
“Ivann’s looking into the special ironway funding,” Dekkard added.
“Good.” After a moment, Obreduur added, “Both of you, get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow could be longer and busier.”
Dekkard didn’t have any doubts about that.
“Are you practicing tonight?” asked Ysella quietly.
“I think it would be good for both of us … and Nellara, as well.”
“Especially Nellara,” added Obreduur from the rear seat.
Ysella smiled.
75
IN some ways, when he woke up on Duadi morning, Dekkard wondered if he’d even left Machtarn because so much had happened in Gaarlak and Oersynt that seemed so unreal, except the “unreal” events, especially the assassination attempts, had just been a continuation of what had been happening before he’d left. The other thought that crossed his mind was that he’d carried a gladius for two years and never used it, while the knives had been far more useful. It was almost as though the gladius was as much ceremonial as functional.
Dekkard shaved, washed, and dressed quickly, then headed downstairs, where he poured his café, then scanned Gestirn, in which there was a story about the Council returning for an early session to deal with the New Meritorist “problem.” The past two days were the first times Dekkard could recall the newssheet identifying the group. There was also a story about a legal petition by the son of the owner of a small manufactory claiming that his expulsion from Imperial University was unjust because he had merely watched the demonstration and that others who watched had not been expelled and because the penalty had been imposed after the fact.
What wasn’t in the story, Dekkard suspected, was that the other bystanders came from more prominent families. Aren’t you jumping to conclusions? That was possible, but Dekkard would have wagered his premature conclusion was correct. The fact that there weren’t any other stories about the New Meritorists suggested Security was once more leaning on the newssheets.
He’d just gotten his croissants and seated himself when Ysella appeared.
She looked to the newssheet on the table and then to Dekkard.
Dekkard told her.
“Then nothing’s changed much.” She poured her café and sat across from him. “Do you think that Ulrich can damp everything down and hold on to the government?”
“He’ll try … and he’ll succeed if enough people don’t put the pieces together…” Dekkard paused. “But there is one other thing.”
“What?”
“Security has lost most of its records. That’s going to limit who they can round up.” He cut the croissants and put a slice of quince in the middle of each.
“The Justiciary still has its records.”
“Only on a case-by-case basis. Then there’s
the Imperador to consider. If the Commercers are shown publicly to be corrupt … and he doesn’t call for new elections…”
“He becomes part of the corruption,” concluded Ysella. “We should mention that to Obreduur on the way to work.”
“He’s likely thought of that.” Dekkard took a bite of his quince-filled croissant.
“We shouldn’t assume that. He’s handling a lot right now.”
“Who’s handling a lot?” asked Rhosali as she entered the staff room.
“The councilor,” replied Dekkard. “With all that happened with the New Meritorists.”
“Can’t say I blame them.” Rhosali poured her café and sat beside Ysella. “Every time you turn around, some Commercer gets away with something they’d gaol me for. That Eastern Ironway scandal … someone steals twenty thousand marks from the government … and no one gets locked up…”
“That was just the bribe,” said Dekkard dryly. “They got coal on the cheap and then overpriced it and sold it to the Navy.”
“See what I mean?” replied Rhosali. “The minister resigned, and nothing happened. Nothing ever does to the folks at the top. You two risk your lives … and no one much cares, except the councilor, and he can’t do much with the Commercers in power.” She shook her head. “More folks than you think understand why those Meritorists are angry.”
“Like your uncle?” asked Dekkard.
“That’s right. He worked for the ironway for more than twenty years. They might as well left him on the street.”
Hyelda appeared in the archway to the kitchen. “The councilor asked me to tell you that he wants to leave in a third, sooner if you can manage it.”
“We’ll manage it,” replied Dekkard, then took another sizable bite of croissant.
A few minutes shy of a third later Dekkard eased the Gresynt away from the portico and down the drive. As soon as he headed west on Altarama, he said, “Sir … there’s one thing … You may have considered it, but I thought I’d pass it on … and that’s the possible impact of all this on the Imperador…” Dekkard summarized the earlier discussion, then waited.
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