Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  With the name Maercel, Dekkard made the connection—Maercel and Norah DeHines. “I’ll have to tell her … when I get a chance.”

  “You and your partner have been rather busy, from what I’ve read in the newssheets,” said Maercel DeHines.

  “That’s true, but most of our time is spent working in his office helping people one way or another.”

  “Jareld mentioned you’ve been involved in tariffs. Can you explain?”

  “The Artisans Guild in Machtarn discovered that tariff inspectors were misassessing tariffs on imported art and art objects…” Dekkard went on to explain, and as he did Somera Garcia and Andrea Andolini drifted off, while Gloriana Saffel moved closer.

  “That explains a lot,” said Maercel DeHines.

  “About more than tariffs, as well,” added Gloriana Saffel. “You and your partner do a great deal more than security, obviously.”

  “There’s no point in our sitting around when he’s in the office,” replied Dekkard.

  “That makes sense,” replied the clericals magnate, “but most people don’t think anything out as much as they should. Axel does, and he’s either found people who can think as well … or taught you.”

  “A little of both, I’d say,” replied Dekkard. “And I suspect you do your best to train your people to handle more than the merely clerical, and that’s why you’ve been successful.”

  Gloriana glanced to Maercel. “Doesn’t that tell you why Axel’s been successful?”

  “There are lots of reasons why he’s been successful.” Maercel nodded to Dekkard. “A pleasure meeting you.” Then he took his wife’s arm and guided her away.

  Gloriana shook her head. “Maercel’s a bit too much old Imperial.”

  “You mean … he wishes the Silent Revolution hadn’t happened?”

  She smiled. “I like you. You must have sisters or a strong mother.”

  “Both. I also have a strong security partner, and I listen to her.”

  “That’s been one of Axel’s greatest achievements.”

  For a moment, Dekkard didn’t follow. Then he said, “You mean listening to Ingrella?”

  “And others, because of her … it’s why this election could be different. But we’ll just have to see.”

  Different because he’s listened to women? “Different in what way?”

  “If it is, you’ll see … and from what you’ve said, you’ll understand. If not, then I’ll have been wrong … and I do so detest it when that occurs. Please … do tell me about your sister and mother.”

  Given the quiet iron in her voice, Dekkard smiled, and said, “My sister is four years older…” then went on.

  When he finished, Gloriana nodded. “They did well by you. I imagine we’ll be hearing more about you in the years ahead.” She smiled pleasantly, then bustled off.

  Dekkard was still wondering what that was all about when he was joined by Quentin Harrowes and his fiancée.

  “Mellorie wondered how you ended up working for Axel,” said Harrowes.

  “I could say that it’s because my family settled here before I was born, but after the Institute I took another year of security training—”

  “You’re an Institute graduate and just doing security?”

  “Not just. I’m also an assistant economic specialist.”

  “Ah … that makes much more sense…”

  Another third of a bell passed before a series of chimes rang and Herrardo called out for everyone to take their places at the U-shaped table, as designated by their place cards.

  Dekkard sat at the end of one of short tables, flanked on the left by Elizabetta Higgbee and on the right by Adelye Lerron, neither of whom he had spoken with except when they entered the chamber, but before he could even say a word to either, Obreduur stood and waited for the murmurs to die down.

  “I’ve been told that I need to say a few words,” began the councilor. “So I’ll begin with the two most important words this evening. Thank you. The Craft Party has a chance—right now it’s only a chance, but it’s a solid good chance—to form the next government of Guldor. We wouldn’t have that chance without the help of every person in this room. Over the past ten years, you’ve been behind us, and it’s made a difference. Who would have thought that we’d ever have the plurality in the Council? Even without controlling the government we’ve been able to make a difference, and that’s because of you. So … again … thank you … and that’s as short as I can make it. Now … enjoy the food, drink, and the company.”

  With that, he smiled again and sat down.

  “For a politician,” said Adelye Lerron, “he certainly never talks that much about himself. Not in public, anyway.” She looked to Dekkard. “Is he that different in private?”

  “Not really. Sometimes, he’ll give detailed explanations, and he also asks questions. They’re never stupid questions.” Dekkard paused while a server refilled his beaker.

  The two women saw their wineglasses refilled, and Elizabetta, a petite middle-aged woman with a somehow commanding presence and iron-gray hair, asked, “You’re closer to this than we are. How do you think the election will come out?”

  “I think the Craft Party will win the plurality of seats. Whether that will allow the councilor to form a government depends on things I don’t know.”

  “You sound somewhat like him.”

  “He’s taught me to be careful in expressing opinions where I don’t have the facts to back them up.” Even if you do just that far too often.

  “Facts are useful, but are just as often misused, usually in support of power,” replied Elizabetta. “That’s why many women mistrust them.”

  “Why do you say that?” asked Dekkard.

  “Because she’s the dean of Women’s Studies at the university,” said Adelye Lerron, “and she built that college from almost nothing.”

  Dekkard nodded, trying to make the connection. “Do you think men misuse facts more than women?”

  “Women can’t afford to be wrong about facts,” said Elizabetta almost primly. “Especially in dealing with men. Even if they’re correct, they’re treated with skepticism. That allows men to beat down everyone with facts, true and false. Besides, you can lie most effectively with facts.”

  “I’ve seen that more than a few times.” Dekkard smiled, feeling like his face was forming into a permanent pleasant smile.

  Although Dekkard did little but make pleasant conversation for the remainder of the dinner, he felt absolutely exhausted when he settled into the Gresynt for the ride back to the Hotel Cosmopolitano. That didn’t stop him from being alert when he got out of the steamer at the hotel, and especially when he and Avraal escorted Obreduur to his chamber.

  “We need to talk,” said Avraal. “Your room.”

  Dekkard smiled. “Why always my room?”

  “Just a preference of mine … and it’s nice to be in a man’s room that’s neat.”

  Dekkard didn’t argue, just led the way to his room, opened the door, and gestured for her to enter. Since there was a side chair and a small armchair, he motioned for her to take the armchair.

  As soon as she sat down, she asked, “Gloriana Saffel … what did she say to you?”

  “Just that Obreduur thought things through and seemed to hire people who did, or that he managed to teach them that. She also made a comment about how this election might be different. I asked her why she thought that. She avoided answering that by insisting that I tell her about my sister and mother. Then she said they’d done well by me and that she’d be hearing about me in the years to come … and she left, just like that. Did she talk to you?”

  Avraal frowned slightly, then offered an amused smile. “She did. She asked about you, especially if you respected women.”

  “What did you tell her?” Dekkard asked, not knowing if he’d like the answer.

  “I told her the truth … that, while you’re definitely your own man and can be stubborn, sometimes you respect them too much. She looked at
me and told me that I’d better take care of that. And then she left. Did you see where she was seated?”

  “At the part of the table you might call the head table, but not next to Obreduur.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Meaning that she’s very important in some way.”

  “Much more, but it’s more than that her clericals probably gather information for her. There’s something else there.”

  “We should ask Obreduur.”

  “I did. He just said that we’d see how important she is. You sat next to Elizabetta Higgbee. Did you learn anything about her?”

  “She’s the dean of Women’s Studies at Oersynt University, and I got the feeling she comes from wealth and has been using it to expand her college … and possibly for other causes. She thinks men misuse facts more than women.”

  “Do you agree with her?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but when she made that point, I had to agree … mostly. I think powerful women may do it as well, but since there aren’t as many of them, men are usually the ones who predominate in factual lying.”

  “Factual lying … that’s a good way of putting it.”

  “Did you find out anything else interesting?” asked Dekkard.

  “Not that much. All the men, from what I could hear and feel, are pretty much what they seem to be, some a little more, some a little less. What about you?”

  “Only that one of them, Norah … DeHines … had a niece who had her portrait painted by my mother … and she said that the portrait was excellent. Gloriana Saffel told me that Norah’s husband was too old Imperial … meaning—”

  “… that women should have stayed in the bedroom, nursery, and kitchen.”

  Dekkard nodded.

  Avraal stood. “We need to get some sleep.”

  Dekkard stood as well, but he moved forward and put his arms around her.

  She embraced him warmly for a long moment, followed the hug with a brief kiss, then stepped back. “Right now … we don’t need any more complications.”

  I’d love some complications. “I understand.” I don’t have to like it, but I understand. He turned and walked her out of his chamber and to her door, watching until she was safely inside before heading back to his own room.

  92

  ON Furdi morning, Dekkard hurried down to the lobby and picked up a copy of The Oersynt Press, reading through it as he climbed the stairs and while he stood waiting for Avraal and Obreduur. Most of the news was local, and there was an article on page one below the fold about Obreduur’s return and about how he’d be splitting time between Oersynt and Malek.

  Dekkard was more than glad that he’d written his family, although, in looking at the schedule, he doubted that he’d have any time to see them. He was still thinking about that when Avraal left her room.

  She glanced at the newssheet he still held.

  “There’s not much there about politics except a short story about Obreduur being here to campaign.” He offered her the newssheet.

  She shook her head, and Dekkard didn’t press.

  Moments later, Obreduur appeared and led the way down to the hotel restaurant. Neither Obreduur nor Ysella said anything as they first sipped their café, except to order. Respecting their need for the café to take effect, Dekkard didn’t say anything either, beyond ordering.

  Finally, Obreduur said, “The dinner went as well as it could have.”

  “Something that had to be done, but which won’t gain votes?” asked Dekkard.

  “Not in this election, but you need to let people know you value and appreciate them. Any event that provides good food and drink and lets them be heard usually can’t hurt. Herrardo will be joining us shortly. We’ll see if he has anything to say that we might have missed.”

  Dekkard took a sip of café and hoped it wouldn’t be too long before his croissants and orange juice arrived.

  “Did either of you discover anything?” Obreduur took another sip of café and waited.

  “Only things about people that you know,” Dekkard finally replied. “The fact that Elizabetta Higgbee is a dean at Oersynt University … and I assume that Gloriana Saffel uses her contacts with her former clerical trainees to gather useful information … among other things.”

  “She’s proved very helpful … and not just to me.” Obreduur smiled. “She’s also trained some of the party volunteers.” He looked up. “Here comes Jareld, and he looks concerned.” He gestured to the empty chair across the table from him.

  Before sitting down, Herrardo handed a heliogram envelope to Obreduur.

  Obreduur took the message out, read it, and then replaced it in the envelope and handed it across the table to Herrardo. “The Gaarlak Craft Party chose Haasan Decaro as the replacement candidate for Council.” He paused, then added, “By acclamation.”

  “So that’s it?” asked Dekkard.

  “He’s the Craft candidate. Obviously, the party doesn’t want any more squabbles and wants to win the election.” He smiled wryly. “Better our bastard than a Commercer bastard. Jens will keep us informed and take care of anything that needs to be done there.”

  “Do you think he can win?” asked Avraal. “Especially with the opposition of many of the textile workers?”

  Obreduur shrugged. “Right now, he’s the only one who has a chance. There are those who’d make far better councilors, but that doesn’t matter if they can’t get elected. That’s where idealists like the New Meritorists get it wrong. A popular and principled idealist can do nothing without the votes, and you can’t defeat an unprincipled party like what the Commercers have become just with ideals. It takes votes.”

  “But what if all a party elects are popular and unprincipled candidates?” asked Dekkard.

  “You have the Commercers. We can afford a few less-than-perfect candidates. Occasionally, we can even replace them with someone better. We’ll be all right as long as we only have a few bastards. Popularity is always a temptation, something that the New Meritorists have yet to realize.”

  “They’ve been awfully quiet,” said Herrardo. “Do you think they’ll disrupt the elections?”

  “Who can tell?” replied Obreduur. “I’m guessing that the Imperador’s immediate demand for Ulrich’s resignation and his call for new elections caught them off guard, and they’re regrouping. If the next government is still Commercer, I suspect the demonstrations will get worse. They certainly won’t go away, even if we’re the government.”

  Dekkard had one unanswered question. “Speaking of problems, what about Gretna Haarl? She didn’t care for Lamarr, but she was really opposed to Decaro.”

  “The message didn’t say, but someone must have gotten to her,” said Herrardo, “because Decaro couldn’t have been acclaimed over her opposition. Maybe Jens or someone pointed out the downside of not having any councilor … or made some agreement.”

  Dekkard wondered if the price had been making Haarl the guildmeister of the Textile Millworkers. He couldn’t imagine her changing her vote for anything less.

  “Doubtless there were promises made,” said Obreduur dryly. “There always are. Some are real, and some are illusory. Sometimes the ones we think are real turn out to be illusory, and what we thought was an illusion turns out to be real. That happens in politics more than you think.” He took a deep breath. “In the meantime, we need to get ready. We’ll be going house to house north of Iron Avenue and west of Fifth Boulevard. In that area, most of the wives stay home. Those who don’t have nursemaids or nannies, and many of them can vote. Then, after second bell, we’ll be going to the Sanitation depot, and we’ll meet with the lorry crews as they come off the lorries. Late afternoon, I’ll be speaking to the Tulip Hills Garden Club, and tonight, we’ll be at a meeting of the Ironway Maintenance Guild.”

  “The councilor will be the first candidate appearing,” said Herrardo.

  “That meeting is not an evening engagement,” Obreduur added, looking at Ysella. “Both of you stay in security
grays.”

  “The hall’s not in the best of locations,” added Herrardo.

  In less than a sixth, the four were back in the Gresynt heading west on Copper Avenue, then north on Fifth Boulevard. The mechanics for visiting houses were the same as what Obreduur had done before—a clever introduction, an inquiry about concerns, some follow-on that personalized the matter for the person—usually a woman—with whom he was talking, and a quiet request to vote, hopefully for Obreduur. After less than a bell, Dekkard realized why Herrardo had chosen that neighborhood—prosperous, but not wealthy, where women would be home and where they wouldn’t feel threatened by a knock on the door, and where they’d feel slightly flattered by a distinguished-looking councilor asking for their thoughts and their vote.

  Even so, by the time it was a third before second bell, Dekkard’s feet were sore, and he was slightly hoarse, because often Obreduur asked him or Ysella to do the introduction, doubtless to save Obreduur’s voice.

  Meeting the Sanitation lorry crews was just a variation on the same general approach, except Dekkard and Avraal were more involved, often answering questions addressed to them. Dekkard was surprised to learn that a number of the lorry drivers were women, usually muscular women, but women, and Obreduur often let Avraal take the lead with them.

  From the Sanitation lorry depot, Herrardo drove them to the Tulip Hills Trinitarian Chapel, northwest of Syntaar Field, where the Tulip Hills Garden Club met in a large classroom, most likely used for scripture classes.

  Obreduur surprised Dekkard when, in his talk to the club members, largely older people and mostly women, he observed in passing that tulip petals could be substituted for onions in some recipes, although, as a former stevedore, he found tulips too elegant to eat. Almost everyone smiled at that.

  After Obreduur finished talking and answering questions as he mingled with the group, the four then stopped at a small bistro two blocks from Syntaar Field and ate, before Herrardo again took the wheel and drove them to a dingy oblong building adjoining the main ironway rails that headed north to Oost and then to Kathaar. The paint on the stucco walls might once have been white, but had become a dismal gray from the deposit of years of locomotive soot that no amount of paint could totally cover or washing could remove.