Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Dekkard had known that Aloor had become a backwater after Laureous the Great had taken it, but he hadn’t realized that it was still that impoverished. “Count yourself fortunate. At least you didn’t have to deal with exploding buildings and assassins.” He paused just slightly, then said, “How are things going otherwise?”

  “Well enough … but … well … Alympiana and I have been thinking.”

  “Oh…?”

  “Well … if the Craft Party picks up a seat or two … any new councilor might need security aides … you understand?”

  Dekkard definitely understood, especially given Waarfel’s reputation. “I don’t know as anyone will contact me about that, or even Councilor Obreduur, but if it does come up, I’ll do what I can for the two of you.” Dekkard still had trouble thinking and speaking of Obreduur as premier. And since he’s not calling himself that … “You want to stay as a team, I take it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’ll see what I can do,” Dekkard repeated.

  “Thank you, Steffan.” Thaarn offered a grateful smile before hurrying away, in a swift walk that suggested he didn’t want to stay away from his office long.

  In turn, Dekkard walked quickly to his own office, where the small pile of letters and petitions on his desk was about the same size as the one he’d gotten on Quindi. He picked up the first letter and began to read.

  As he made his way through the correspondence and drafted replies, he absently noted that there were definitely more messengers, and that they were quietly but noticeably more deferential to Karola. If Obreduur didn’t remain as premier, that would change again, of course.

  At a third after fifth bell, Obreduur came out of the inner office. “We’re going to the dining room. I’ll be meeting several councilors there. It’s likely to take a little over a bell. That will allow you time to eat.”

  Once the three were out in the main corridor, Obreduur said, “I have some interesting news, but I’ll wait until we’re outside in the garden courtyard.”

  Interesting news? Dekkard was definitely curious, but he and Avraal just waited until they were in the shade of the roofed portico joining the two buildings.

  “Jens Seigryn sent a heliogram. The Craft Party Committee for the Gaarlak district met late yesterday and chose Johan Lamarr as the official party candidate for councilor.”

  “Isn’t that what you wanted?” asked Dekkard.

  “It’s what I hoped for, but it’s the committee’s decision. Jens said the debate was acrimonious and that Haasan Decaro got almost violent when the vote for Lamarr was announced.”

  “That won’t change anything, will it?” asked Avraal.

  “It could if Haasan persuades the Machineworkers to vote for another party’s candidate, or not to vote.”

  “Who did the Landor Party pick?”

  “Someone I’ve never heard of, a Willem Macaarth. Jens says he’s a self-important nonentity, but he’ll still likely pick up most of the Landor votes.”

  “And the Commerce candidate?” pressed Dekkard.

  “The younger son of the presidente of the Banque of Gaarlak, one Elvann Wheiter. He was likely to have been the bigger threat, especially if the local Craft Party had decided on Decaro instead of Johan Lamarr, but Lamarr’s respected by many local business interests.”

  “It sounds like they picked well. You might get another Craft councilor,” said Avraal.

  “You can’t tell until the votes are counted,” said Obreduur dryly.

  After a moment of silence, Dekkard spoke. “Sir … I had an interesting encounter this morning…” He went on to relate the brief conversation with Caarsten Thaarn.

  Obreduur nodded when Dekkard finished, then said, “I can understand their interest. How good are they at security? Do you have any idea?”

  “I don’t,” confessed Dekkard. “No one’s hinted at anything even remotely suggesting a lack of competence. So it’s likely that they’re decent. Beyond that…” He shrugged.

  “I’ve run across Alympiana a few times,” added Avraal. “She’s a strong natural empath, but I get the feeling that her training wasn’t as strict as it could be. She’s certainly stronger than most security empaths, and that counts for a great deal.”

  “Hmmm … you’re saying they’re better than average, but not outstanding.”

  “That’s likely,” agreed Avraal. “But they’ve worked together for almost six years, and that means they’ll be better at first for a new councilor than even an excellent isolate and an outstanding empath who’ve never worked together before.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Obreduur looked to Dekkard. “What did you promise him?”

  “Only that I’d do what I could.”

  “That’s fair. Thank you.”

  As they approached the heavy bronze doors to the Council Hall, Dekkard took in the Council Guards and the two staffers standing in the shade of one side of the portico, but neither looked or shifted position as Obreduur walked past and entered the building. The three reached the dining room without incident.

  Dekkard and Avraal watched until Obreduur was inside, and then made their way to the staff cafeteria. There, he opted for beef empanadas, while she chose a chicken salad of sorts. They’d barely seated themselves when a stocky woman Dekkard didn’t recognize approached the table.

  “Avraal … I haven’t seen you in ages,” offered the older dark-haired woman.

  “Sometimes, it happens that way.” Avraal half turned. “Steffan, meet Kenalee Foerstah. She’s a legalist for Councilor Guldurs Freenk. Kenalee, this is Steffan Dekkard.”

  “The other half of the heroic pair. I’m pleased to meet you. And congratulations on your councilor becoming Premier.”

  “It could also be rather temporary,” replied Avraal.

  “Possibly not,” said Foerstah. “You know Guldurs has to stand down, and it’s likely that the Craft Party will pick up that district…”

  Dekkard listened as Foerstah made a thinly veiled appeal for help in getting a new position.

  “Keep in touch,” said Avraal, when Foerstah had finished. “After the election, we’ll both know more about where things stand.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Foerstah looked to Dekkard. “It was good to meet you, Steffan.”

  “And I, you.” Dekkard smiled warmly.

  Once Foerstah was out of earshot, Dekkard asked quietly, “How good a legalist is she?”

  “She has to be fairly good.” Avraal shook her head sadly. “She and Caarsten Thaarn won’t be the last who come looking for a special siding to a job.”

  Dekkard had to agree. Then he took a brief swallow of his Kuhrs and several bites of his empanada before asking, “Who do you think Obreduur’s meeting with?”

  “The better question might be who he isn’t meeting with. No matter which party forms the government, he’ll have more power … and more problems.”

  Dekkard finished eating his empanadas; then he sipped the last of the Kuhrs while Avraal methodically demolished exactly half her chicken salad … and stopped.

  “That’s more than enough,” she declared. “We should head back to the dining room. He might be early. We also might hear more there.” She stood.

  So did Dekkard.

  When they reached the corridor across from the dining room entrance, Dekkard saw Laurenz Korriah and Shaundara Keppel waiting, separate from a larger group of security aides. “You suggested listening. Should we see what Laurenz and Shaundara have to say?”

  “Why not?” she agreed with a smile.

  As they neared the two, Dekkard said cheerfully, “Laurenz … waiting for the boss?”

  “The same as you are, Steffan.” Korriah laughed, softly for him, which meant that it could be heard for yards, if not farther.

  “You were right about the Imperador calling new elections quickly,” said Dekkard. “I thought he’d wait longer.”

  “I thought it would be even sooner, but when Ulrich shut down Gestirn afte
r planting guns on those protestors, even the Imperador couldn’t ignore that. Having the STF shoot unarmed people … and then plant weapons on women and kids? How stupid was that?”

  “Definitely up there in stupidity,” added Keppel.

  “What’s your boss going to do after he becomes Premier for real?”

  “First, his party has to win the election,” Dekkard pointed out.

  “The Craft Party is going to win the most seats,” Korriah declared. “Your boss already has enough councilors’ votes to be Premier. Whether he stays Premier depends on what he intends to do.”

  “He knows that,” interjected Avraal quietly but firmly.

  “Knowing and doing are separate things,” said Korriah.

  “You’re right,” said Avraal, smiling. “And, there are different ways to get things done. One way or another, you’ll see what he can do.”

  “Laurenz,” said Keppel quickly. “He hired them. How effective have they been?”

  Korriah laughed once more, then shook his head. “Never thought of it that way. You two have stopped … what … three assassinations?”

  “More than enough,” said Dekkard.

  “And then there was that incident in the covered parking … Guard Captain Trujillo told me about it.”

  Keppel frowned. Avraal lifted her eyebrows.

  “Some lowlifes were wearing guard uniforms and breaking into steamers. They attacked Steffan. It didn’t work out the way they thought.” Korriah inclined his head to Avraal. “You’re right. You and your boss like to do things quietly. Sometimes that’s better. Sometimes, it’s not.”

  Dekkard grinned. “So we can call on you when quiet doesn’t work?”

  Korriah grinned. “You can certainly ask.”

  The four stopped talking as a group of councilors emerged from the dining room. They were all Commercers, including Marryat Osmond, Vhiola Sandegarde, Charls Maastach, and Gerard Schmidtz, three of whom had been committee chairs in the just-dissolved Council, and none of them appeared especially happy, so much so that Dekkard murmured to Avraal, “Are they as unhappy as they look?”

  “More worried than unhappy,” she said quietly.

  Once the Commercer councilors and their waiting aides departed, Korriah shook his head. “Sorry bunch. Marks don’t always buy what you think.”

  “Sometimes,” added Avraal, “when people are bought with marks, they don’t stay bought.”

  “More often than not,” said Keppel.

  It was almost two thirds past the first afternoon bell when several Landor councilors left the dining room, most with thoughtful expressions. The ones Dekkard recognized were Kharl Navione and Breffyn Haastar.

  “We’ll see you later,” said Korriah, just before he and Keppel moved in behind Navione and Haastar.

  “Until later,” replied Dekkard.

  Several minutes passed before Avraal spoke. “The way Laurenz described the incident in the covered parking…”

  “It didn’t happen that way. The guard captain was the one who questioned me personally. That theft story was a way to cover up what really happened. There’s also the possibility that Korriah is lying, but he’s not the type, and he’s not stupid. That means Trujillo either decided to cover it up or was told to. I’d wager the latter.”

  “That’s a wager I won’t take.” She stopped talking and motioned toward Obreduur, who had just stepped out of the dining room … alone.

  The two immediately joined him.

  “Did you have a good meal?” asked Obreduur.

  “A fair meal,” replied Avraal, “and another position seeker…” She went on to explain.

  When she finished, as the three stepped out of the Council Hall and under the covered portico heading toward the Council Office Building, Obreduur said, “I’ll ask Ingrella to make a few discreet inquiries. If she’s what she seems to be … well … we’ll see.”

  “We also had an interesting conversation with Councilor Navione’s security aides,” said Dekkard. “I got the feeling their councilor just might have been meeting with you, but that wasn’t what was most interesting. You recall when I was attacked in the covered parking, I’m sure. Well, the good Guard Captain Trujillo told Laurenz Korriah that I’d been attacked by a pair of thieves intent on rummaging through steamers…”

  “That’s suspicious, but not something we can address now.”

  “I didn’t think so, but I thought you should know.”

  Obreduur took a long slow breath, but kept walking. He finally said, “There are far, far too many reports and hints of untoward behavior involving the Council and the ministries. It might take years…” He shook his head, then smiled. “But then, that’s one of the functions of staff … and even other councilors.”

  “If you get to be Premier,” said Dekkard.

  “First, I have to get reelected,” Obreduur pointed out.

  “Is anyone running against you?” asked Dekkard.

  “I’d heard that Vandenburg was thinking about it, but I haven’t heard who the Landor candidate will be. Most likely, the Commerce candidate will be Villem Draforre, the vice-presidente of the Rio Mal Banque. He’s hinted earlier that he might run, and he’ll never be presidente of the banque. He doesn’t lack marks or confidence.”

  “Does he have a chance?” asked Dekkard.

  “Every candidate has a chance until all the votes are counted. That’s why any good politician never takes anything for granted.”

  “But you’ll still worry about all the problems ahead,” Dekkard replied.

  “True, but for the moment there isn’t much we can do. Almost all the Council has either already left for their districts or will be leaving tomorrow. Those few who can’t stand for reelection are packing up.” Obreduur cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about letters or petitions for the rest of the day. The mail will drop off, and Macri and the others can handle it while you’re gone. What you both need to do is summarize my positions on the issues that people will ask about. No more than two sentences. You won’t have time for much more, but some of those who can’t ask me might ask you, and you can’t say you don’t know.”

  Once the three returned to the office, Dekkard sat down and began to write … and think. He only had a few pages written when he had to leave to get the Gresynt, and he was still thinking even after he’d driven home, garaged the Gresynt, and was wiping down both steamers.

  Avraal was waiting in the back hall when he left the garage.

  “You didn’t say anything on the way home,” she said.

  “I was thinking. So much of what we do doesn’t reduce to a few sentences. How do you explain food prices are higher in Machtarn because the ironways charge more per decem for grain and produce because they take up more space per decem than do manufactured goods, and that’s why so much produce goes by barge, which is slower and more food gets spoiled.”

  She looked at him and said, with a smile, “I think you just did.”

  “They were long sentences.”

  They both laughed.

  90

  ON Duadi morning, upon rising, Dekkard looked at the almost completely packed traveling case, the arrangement of clothing with which he’d spent entirely too much time the night before, then proceeded with preparing for the day. He was in the staff room before either Avraal or Rhosali, and he immediately picked up the copy of Gestirn. The first-page main story was about a late-summer spoutstorm that wreaked havoc on houses south of the center of Point Larmat. The other story was about the various councilors who’d had to stand down.

  Dekkard kept reading. On the third page he saw an interesting story header—NAVY CONSTRUCTION COSTS SOAR—and decided to read further.

  … the largest percentage increase in the budget of the Imperial Navy for the past five years has been in construction of naval facilities … set of figures buried in budget submissions to the Council of Sixty-Six show the cost per square yard almost doubled over the period … interviews with professional engineers reveale
d that Navy construction projects have gone predominantly to Siincleer Shipbuilding or its subsidiaries or Haasan Design … smaller corporacions competing with these two behemoths who successfully won bids have subsequently suffered tragedies, unexplained fires, disappearance of key personnel, even problematic deaths of key senior personnel … most recent was the case of Engaard Engineering …

  … the upshot of these events is a lack of competition and markedly higher costs to the Imperial Treasury, as well far higher revenues and profits for both Siincleer Shipbuilding and Haasan Design …

  Dekkard frowned as he replaced the newssheet on the side table. The story didn’t actually accuse anyone, but the implications were certainly there. He couldn’t help but believe that Obreduur and Carlos Baartol had something to do with it, although not a single politician or political party was mentioned.

  After Avraal arrived, Dekkard waited until she’d had her first mug of café before having her read the story. Then he waited.

  “It’s true, but they’ll keep on doing it.”

  “For a little while,” replied Dekkard. “I think the story is a setup … or the first shot of a salvo, and I’d wager Obreduur wanted it published before the elections.”

  “So, if we gain control, he can point out that he’s only following the lead provided by Gestirn before he became premier?”

  “He could then hold hearings and bring up everything, and it would illustrate another aspect of Commercer corruption.”

  “If … if the Craft Party wins enough seats and gains enough other councilors as allies.”

  “The beauty of it is that the story accuses no one, and if Haasan or Siincleer object loudly, it will just bring more attention to the problem.”

  “I’m not about to hold my breath,” declared Avraal. “Neither will Emrelda.”

  “I wouldn’t advise it,” replied Dekkard with a sardonic smile.

  Avraal mock-glared at him, then smiled back.

  Because they needed to leave early, they both ate quickly and then left the staff room.

  Dekkard barely had the Gresynt under the portico before Obreduur and Avraal arrived. Both were careful to stay under the roof because of the steady warm rain that had been falling since sometime before dawn.