“So it was sent to every councilor to prove they could send them?” asked Roostof.
“Also to let councilors know what’s already on the streets.” Macri’s voice turned sardonic as he added, “They’re hair-splitting over the term ‘peaceful protests.’ The protests were peaceful, but there had to be Security personnel, perhaps hundreds, killed in all those buildings destroyed by explosives.”
“Can you blame them?” asked Karola. “The Premier is always hair-splitting.” She swallowed, then turned to Obreduur. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“That’s all right. In here, you can say that. It is the truth. I wouldn’t do it elsewhere in the building or near Security. Agents are going to be … sensitive … for quite some time.”
Especially where Craft councilors and staffers are concerned, thought Dekkard.
“The Premier is likely to call a brief Council session.” Obreduur looked to Dekkard and Ysella, standing side by side. “I might need you two on short notice. In the meantime, all of you, just go back to work.” Obreduur turned and headed back into his office.
“I wouldn’t want to be in charge of the messenger service right now,” said Roostof.
“You think not, Svard?” said Macri with dry humor.
Dekkard returned to letters and petitions. Just before noon another messenger arrived. That one Karola took to Obreduur. Then she returned to the front office and said, “The Premier is calling the Council into session at first bell. The councilor will need both of you, and you’ll have to wait for him outside the councilors’ lobby.”
Obreduur came out of the inner office more than a third before first bell. “It’s better to be there early.”
On the way to the Council Hall, Dekkard saw several other councilors with aides, but none were particularly close, not until they reached the entrance to the councilors’ lobby, where there were now two Council Guards posted and where he saw Laurenz Korriah and Shaundara Keppel watching closely as Councilor Navione stepped into the lobby. Neither moved as Dekkard and Ysella made sure no one was targeting Obreduur.
Once Obreduur was out of sight, Dekkard turned toward Korriah. “Did your office get—”
“… one of those New Meritorist propaganda sheets? Didn’t everyone?”
“We thought so.”
“They’re frigging idiots,” said Korriah. “Frigging idiots. All this will do is get Ulrich and Wyath even madder and ready to kill more of them.”
“And a lot of innocents with them,” said Dekkard. “That could be what they want.”
“That’s sowshit. More dead workers and students won’t change anything.”
“You might be right, but I’d wager that they think it will.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t know anything,” replied Dekkard, “but they’ve planned everything incredibly well. They’re misguided, but they’re not stupid.”
“That’s sick … getting Security to shoot people to get more people upset so more will get shot?”
“It’s happened before. Just not in Guldor.”
Korriah shook his head, then motioned to the waiting area. “We might as well get seats while there are still some.”
The older isolate was absolutely correct, because in minutes the corridor was filled with councilors and aides, and both Keppel and Ysella were concentrating to see if they sensed anything untoward. But, by the time first bell rang, nothing happened, and only staffers remained in the corridor, sitting and standing around the waiting area.
The session was short, and, when it was over, Obreduur was again one of the later councilors to leave the floor, talking with both Hasheem and Jorje Kastenada, the other Craft councilor besides Hasheem on the Security Committee. The conversation ended before any of the three councilors were close to their aides.
“Councilor Hasheem will be walking back with us,” Obreduur said.
Dekkard saw an expression that might have been relief on the face of Hasheem’s isolate, Erleen Orlov, there as sole security for the councilor, apparently since Hasheem had still been unable to replace Arthal Shenke.
As the five crossed the garden courtyard, the air was as damp and hot as at full summer, and Dekkard was sweating heavily when they reached the Council Office Building, even though they’d walked in the shade of the covered portico. Once they reached the second floor, Hasheem and Orlov continued down the corridor while Dekkard, Ysella, and Obreduur entered his office.
“Karola, would you ask Ivann, Svard, and Felix to join us in my office.” Obreduur smiled warmly if briefly.
Obreduur did not sit down but walked to the window and looked out until the other three had entered. Then he turned and began to speak. “The Premier was upset. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that he was coldly furious that the New Meritorists compromised the Council message system. The message supervisor and assistant supervisors have all been replaced, temporarily, by message specialists from the Security Ministry. All four were interrogated. One did not survive, regretfully, although Security found him innocent. So were the others, but, according to Ulrich, poor security and sloppiness allowed the infiltration, and that is why the three survivors were dismissed with loss of any possible retirement stipends.
“Any Council staffer meeting with New Meritorists without the explicit written consent of the Premier will be tried by the Council on charges of treason … and likely found immediately guilty,” added Obreduur sardonically. “The Security Ministry has granted its agents the unrestricted right to use lethal force against any New Meritorist who attempts to escape custody or who refuses to obey Security orders.”
“How is anyone supposed to know who’s a New Meritorist?” asked Roostof.
“Right now,” replied Obreduur, “a Meritorist is anyone Security says it is.”
Macri gave a low whistle. “That requires Council consent.”
“Ulrich called for a vote. He got exactly thirty-four. I doubt that most of the Landors or Craft councilors were pleased. But I wanted all of you to know that even saying a few words to a New Meritorist could be dangerous, and would cost you your positions … if not your life.”
“Am I missing something,” asked Macri, “or does this suggest that the Imperador is not pleased?”
“He didn’t mention the Imperador, but that’s the conclusion I’d draw.” Obreduur cleared his throat. “Ivann, if you’d relay that to Anna and Margrit, and I’ll tell Karola.” After a pause, he added, “That’s all that happened, but I wanted to let you all know immediately.”
“Thank you, sir,” Dekkard said, with the others adding their voices almost immediately.
Then the five left the inner office quietly, and Obreduur beckoned for Karola.
Dekkard turned to Ysella. “This is going to get worse than I thought. Ulrich is scared of the Imperador calling new elections, and scared people are dangerous.”
“Why is he that scared?”
“I don’t know exactly, but Obreduur said he only could manage thirty-four votes. That’s not exactly a position of strength. The Commercers are short one vote, since they haven’t chosen a replacement for Maendaan, but his replacement would only haven given them thirty-five. Why else would he react that way? He doesn’t need to threaten to shoot staffers to prove he’s the Premier.”
“There’s something else there,” said Ysella.
Dekkard smiled ironically. “Maybe he’s afraid the Kraffeist Affair might reappear … or there’s something else we don’t know. Obreduur’s right, though. We all need to be careful.”
Since there wasn’t anything else they could immediately do besides worry, both of them went back to work, although Dekkard wondered if the Commercer hold on the Council was that fragile, or whether Ulrich’s anger was because he didn’t want to be dismissed as premier. He also wondered how Macri was doing on tracking down the hidden subsidy to Guldoran Ironway.
When Dekkard picked up Obreduur and Ysella after work, she was carrying not only the small gray purse she used w
hen in grays, but also a leather portfolio that looked full of something. He gestured to it.
Ysella murmured, “Later.”
Once he finished with the steamers—and again Ingrella’s was warm, as if she’d come home only shortly before the others—Dekkard looked for Ysella and found her in the shade of the drive portico. “You were carrying a portfolio I never saw before.”
“It’s one of Obreduur’s. It had messages in it. Ingrella will send them from her office in the morning.”
“I’d wager at least one is to Carlos Baartol.”
“I didn’t look. But do you blame him after what Ulrich said? By the way, Rhosali says there’s a letter for you from Oersynt.” She grinned.
“The way you’re grinning, it’s from Naralta.”
“The sender’s address just says Dekkard.”
“You’re likely right.”
“Go read the letter. We can talk after dinner.”
With that humorous dismissal Dekkard went to get the letter, which he took up to his room, warm as it was, before opening.
Steffan—
We were all relieved to hear that you survived the uprising in Oersynt and that you returned safely to Machtarn. Both Mother and Father were glad to spend time with you and your security partner. They had obviously hoped to see you again, but it certainly wasn’t your doing that the New Meritorists decided to stage demonstrations all across Guldor …
No, it wasn’t. Dekkard shook his head at the thought, then kept reading.
By the way, they were both impressed by the newssheet article. You didn’t tell the whole story in your letters. That also reinforces what I saw of Avraal. In my opinion, she’s an incredible woman, and if you feel the way about her as I suspect you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t court her and tell her how you feel. She’s more reserved than you are, and that’s saying a lot. She’ll only give hints, if that. I can see that she thinks highly of you …
Dekkard paused. Naralta wasn’t saying that Avraal would agree to marry him, only that she was worth the effort and then some.
… and I sense that you worry that her rejecting you might jeopardize an amazing working partnership. Don’t worry about that. You two respect each other too much. You both deserve more than that, and it’s worth the risk. Not that I’m the one who should tell either of you about risk. Besides, you’re used to a slightly older woman speaking her mind …
He winced slightly at that, but also smiled and went on to read the remainder of the letter, mostly about what had happened in Oersynt after the demonstration. He did linger over a few sentences.
… newssheets didn’t express much sadness about District Councilor Vandenburg’s death. They observed that he was a Landor with the ethics of a Commercer and financial sense of a child …
That’s bitter … but accurate if it made it into the newssheets.
He put Naralta’s letter with the others from his family. Since they were all fine and knew that he was, he could write on Quindi evening. Besides, he wanted to think over what Naralta had written about Avraal.
78
DEKKARD was still thinking about Naralta’s letter when he came down to breakfast on Quindi, but he immediately scanned the copy of Gestirn on the side table.
The lead story was predictably about the emergency legislation allowing preemptive use of lethal force against identified New Meritorists or anyone acting in an aggressive way that might result in violent civil disorder; death or injury to patrollers, Security agents, or innocent bystanders, or significant damage to public or private property. The story was strictly factual, including the closeness of the vote, but there was no mention of the broadsheets sent to councilors, and there was a large white space at the bottom, with a single sentence in the middle.
As required by the Ministry of Security, this story has been edited and a portion removed.
Dekkard had never seen anything like that. He also suspected it might be the last time. Other than that one story, there was nothing else about government or the New Meritorists, although there was a small story about the Fleet Marshal dispatching another flotilla to Sudlynd to deal with pirates preying on Guldoran ships involved in trade with Noldar, and with other countries in the Teknold Confederacy. A confederacy largely in name only.
Dekkard replaced the newssheet, poured his café, obtained his croissants and quince paste from the serving platter, and sat down. He’d taken perhaps two sips of café when Ysella arrived.
“You might take a glance at the front page.”
“Oh? Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Ysella immediately picked up the newssheet. After reading it, she set it back on the table. “What do you think Security objected to? Do you think Security will shut down Gestirn?”
“No, but I do think we won’t see a statement like that again. Security will make that happen … possibly claiming that the newssheet risks being found as an accomplice of some sort to the New Meritorists. As for what Wyath’s minions felt was objectionable … it could have been anything. A comment on the broadsheets that were distributed to the Council and what was in them … or a statement about Security shooting unarmed women in the back…”
“That hasn’t showed up in the newssheets, either. It might have if they’d shot unarmed boys.” Ysella’s tone was faintly ironic as she poured her café and then sat down.
“No … it wouldn’t. Security wouldn’t want something published that upset Commercers.”
“Of course … how thoughtless of me. But enough of Security. How is your family? You never said anything last night.” She took a sip of café.
“Everyone’s fine. They all enjoyed meeting you, especially Naralta. You definitely impressed her.”
“She impressed me. Actually, your whole family did. I’d still like to hear the story of how your parents left Argental.”
“So would I,” replied Dekkard. “It must have been incredibly difficult, but all either will say is that it’s better left in the past. The only hint I ever got was in that letter I mentioned to you where my mother wrote that she could never forget the sound of shots.”
“That could be why she has mixed feelings about you being in security.”
“I do know that they were relieved I didn’t go into the Army or Navy.”
“You’d have been wasted there. You also would have lost your mind. Just as you would if you’d gone into commercial security or remained as strictly a security aide. That was a gamble on Obreduur’s part, but at the least we knew he’d be well-protected for a few years.”
“We? You told him that. How did you know? You never even met me.”
“A brilliant, driven young man from an artisan background who excelled in everything against some of the best and most talented young men in Guldor?” She laughed softly.
“You’re making me into something—”
“I’m not. No false modesty, Steffan. It doesn’t become you. At least, you’re not inclined to arrogance.”
For a moment Dekkard was silent. “You wouldn’t do well with an arrogant partner.”
“I’ve done it before. I didn’t like it, but arrogant competence is preferable to modest incompetence.”
“He was barely competent,” declared Rhosali as she entered the staff room.
“Better than that,” said Ysella.
“Not much,” returned Rhosali.
“In any case,” said Dekkard, “you and the councilor survived, and I’ll try to avoid either arrogance or false modesty.” He took a healthy bite out of his first croissant, followed by café.
The remainder of breakfast was quiet, as was the drive to the Council Office Building, which remained surrounded by guards. Once more, Dekkard had to show his passcard, first to get into the covered parking, despite the councilor’s emblem on the Gresynt, and then to enter the building. When he entered the office, even before reaching his desk, he asked, “Does anyone know whether the Premier has called for a Council session?”
“Not so far,” replied Karola. “You might even be able to finish that stack on your desk.”
Dekkard looked at the envelopes. There had to be thirty, far more than what he’d had to deal with recently.
Ysella looked up from her desk. “I’d wager most of yours are from Commerce sympathizers who think the Premier is being too soft on the New Meritorists.”
“That would make sense,” replied Dekkard. “Not that many workers and crafters write the Council, and those who might sympathize aren’t about to put their thoughts in words.”
“Especially with Security looking over everyone’s shoulders,” said Karola.
Dekkard sat down and began to read. Almost a bell passed before he had the letters sorted into two piles. The larger pile was what Ysella had predicted, but there were five letters that said, effectively, that while the writers didn’t agree with the tactics used by the demonstrators they did feel that times were getting worse for most people and only better for the wealthy—and that they hoped Obreduur would do something for most of the people and not just those well-off.
Dekkard drafted two responses, one for those who wanted Security to hammer the New Meritorists and one for the few who wanted Obreduur to help more than the wealthy. The draft for those who wanted a crackdown said that the councilor favored law and order, and that those who used violence shouldn’t be allowed to get away with it, but that innocents who demonstrated without violence or weapons should be allowed that right within the law. The second draft said that and added that the demonstrations were the unfortunate result of the Council’s failure to address the problems created by recent and rapid industrialization, a solution to which Obreduur and the Craft Party had been pressing for, while the Commercers had ignored that problem.
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