Inside wasn’t much better, although the hall was well-swept and as clean as it could have been. There were battered wooden benches that might have held a hundred, although the ironway workers standing around and talking quietly looked to number somewhat less.
A lean and angular man in worn brown canvas trousers and a long-sleeved brown shirt immediately walked toward the four. “Councilor Obreduur, Jose Rikkard. I’m glad you’re here. Sr. Draforre informed us at the last moment that, due to a family illness, he wouldn’t be able to make it. He must have had a better offer,” Rikkard finished sarcastically.
“I’m happy to be here.”
“Councilor…” Rikkard looked slightly uncomfortable. “You know my men … they’re not much for speeches and the like.”
“That’s fine with me,” replied Obreduur. “What if I make a very short statement, and then just let them ask me what they want. My statement will be brief, I promise you.”
“That sounds good to me.” Rikkard sounded relieved.
“Shall we start?”
“Oh … of course.” Rikkard walked to the low platform and stepped up, followed by Obreduur. Then he gestured to the benches and waited until everyone was seated. “Councilor Obreduur will make a very short statement. After that he’ll answer any questions anyone has.”
“Thank you.” Obreduur inclined his head to Rikkard. “I am glad to be here. As some of you know I’ve been councilor for several years, and I’ve worked as hard as possible to make changes that benefit working people. I’ve also done my best to stop laws and regulations that hurt you. I’ll also be honest. Until we can get a Craft government, that is all I—or any Craft councilor—will be able to do. Even though I’m acting Premier at the moment, that’s an empty title because the Council has been dissolved. That means there’s no way to make better new laws or get rid of bad older laws until after the election. I’m here to ask for your vote in the upcoming election because I believe I can and will do more for you than either a Landor or a Commerce councilor will ever do.” He paused. “I said I’d be short. Now, what are your questions … or what you want to tell me?”
For a moment, there was silence.
Rikkard broke the silence. “He did say he’d be short. Allard, you were talking earlier this evening. You want to tell the councilor about it?”
A stocky and bearded young man stood. “You worked with your hands. Have you forgotten what it was like?”
“I haven’t. I haven’t forgotten loading leaking barrels of pickles and smelling like cheap vinegar and rotten cucumbers from the ones that broke. Or the fingers that got broken and didn’t heal right. Or the two toes I lost when a loader was careless … and I know I’m fortunate because I know too many who didn’t live to be my age—not that I’m even that old … and I didn’t have to deal with locomotives or runaway rail carriages or freight cars.” Obreduur paused just momentarily. “But that’s not the real question. The real question is what I can do to make your lives better. How can I make sure that more of the marks you make for the ironway come back to you and don’t go to men who’ve never worked and struggled with machines where a careless move can kill you?
“The answer is that I’ve done what I can. I kept the ironway woodcrafters from having to work with poisonous yellow cedar. I’ve amended legislation to keep government funds going to maintenance and not corporacion coffers … but that’s not enough. We need a Craft government, not a Commerce government, and we need your help. If you vote for me, that will help. If you can, write friends or family who live in other districts. Beg, plead, persuade … tell them to vote Craft…” He looked straight at the bearded man and added, “You can’t tell that I feel strongly, can you?”
Allard offered a shy grin. “Not at all, sir.”
Another man stood up. “It seems to me that the law doesn’t work fair. A working man down on his luck maybe pinches a split of rotwine and ends up working the roads on a chain, could be for a month or more, with the patrollers watching him every moment for years to come, and that’s if he even gets another spot of work. Some corporacion whiteshirt uses legal cheatery to steal public coal and sell it marked-up to the Navy for millions of marks … and what does he get? He gets a fine, maybe loses his position, and the corporacion pays the fine—less than the profits they made. That isn’t justice to me.”
“It isn’t to me, either. Right now, as I told you, I can’t fix everything, but some of you might recall that I fired the Treasury minister. You know why? Because he was telling tariff agents to cut the import tariffs on foreign goods so that the corporacions could import cheap stuff and make it hard for small crafters to sell good work made here in Guldor. If there’s something wrong, let me know. I can’t try to fix things if I don’t know what’s broken.”
After that the questions and comments came faster.
“… law says that crosstie shops have to be vented, but they keep shutting the windows. Breathing all those creosote fumes, that’ll shorten a man’s life … if doesn’t kill him first…”
“… not requiring the new air brake systems on coal haulers … claim the law only applies to passenger expresses and regular freight haulers…”
“… track walkers buy their own kerosene lanterns … company lanterns don’t work…”
All in all, Obreduur spent more than a bell answering questions and responding to comments.
Dekkard watched the workers, but didn’t see signs of anger, although several of the men asking questions sounded frustrated with Guldoran Ironway, and that Dekkard could understand from his own limited contact with Director Deron.
Finally, Rikkard stepped up on the platform. “We’re beginning to repeat the questions, and the councilor’s been talking a lot longer than we said we needed. I think we ought to give him a hand.”
The applause, while not wildly enthusiastic, was definitely more than perfunctory, Dekkard thought.
Rikkard accompanied the four back outside to the Gresynt, then said to Obreduur before the councilor could enter the steamer, “Thank you. Some of the older men know about you, but the younger fellows didn’t understand that you’ve been there.” He paused. “Do you think there’s a chance you might be premier and we’ll get a government that looks out for working folks?”
“The elections will tell that,” replied Obreduur. “I’m hopeful, but we’ll just have to see.”
Dekkard felt better once Herrardo had the steamer headed back toward the Hotel Cosmopolitano, although he really couldn’t say why he’d been worried at the meeting.
Because the Commercers might understand that Obreduur could become premier and might try something?
He shook his head. He just couldn’t say.
After they got out of the Gresynt at the hotel, Obreduur turned to Dekkard. “The last time we were here, you only had a few bells with your family, and this time doesn’t look much better. However, I’ve looked at the schedule, and I’d like to invite them to an early supper here at the hotel on Findi evening. We don’t have anything after the long afternoon meeting until the next morning.”
“That’s very kind of you, sir. I think they’d like to meet you.” Dekkard also understood that Obreduur was worried enough that he didn’t want to be without security. Or he promised Ingrella that he wouldn’t be.
“You’ll like them,” added Avraal.
“With that observation,” replied Obreduur, “how could I not?”
93
ON Quindi morning, Dekkard was up early, writing and sending off a message to his family, paying extra for the hotel message service. After that, he and Avraal escorted Obreduur to a breakfast meeting of the Oersynt Civic Association, a group of small business owners and corporacion midlevel managers ostensibly formed a decade or so earlier to improve the central city area of Oersynt. Even after the bell and a half spent there, including half a bell exchanging pleasantries, Dekkard wasn’t certain what the association did with its funds.
As they sat in the dark blue Gresynt while
Herrardo headed east on Copper Avenue, driving them toward the neighborhood where they would spend several bells in door-to-door canvassing, and while Obreduur read through a stack of messages that had arrived that morning Dekkard leaned closer to Avraal and asked, “How did they like what he said?”
“What do you think?”
“I couldn’t tell,” he replied quietly.
“Neither could I,” she said. “I didn’t sense any anger. There was some interest, and the two women and the one man with small shops were pleased. The others were mildly interested or bored, as if they already knew what he’d say.”
They probably did. It still bothered him. How could they not see what the Commercers were doing? Or don’t they care so long as they benefit? Most likely the latter, given what he’d seen of most business types.
A sixth of a bell later, Herrardo pulled up in the parking area of a Trinitarian chapel. Dekkard didn’t see the chapel’s name, but he looked at the name on the street sign, which at first he thought read PLEASANTRY WAY but upon a second look realized was PLEASANT WAY.
All the pleasantries are getting to you. He studied the houses across from the chapel. The neighborhood appeared remarkably similar to the Fifth Boulevard area through which Dekkard had trudged on Furdi. That also made sense, given that it was a workday.
Three bells later, after knocking on the doors of some fifty dwellings and talking to roughly thirty married women and ten older couples, and on some fifteen doors where no one answered, Dekkard and the others returned to the Gresynt, and Herrardo drove them to a luncheon meeting of the Oersynt Outing Club, which took place in a large function room of the not-quite-sprawling Hornbeak Bistro.
As soon as Obreduur entered the function room, a short not-quite-rotund man who reminded Dekkard of a spectacled owl appeared.
“Welcome, Councilor! I’m Pietyr Domanov, the club secretary. We’re so glad to see you. Miriam will be thrilled. She just has to meet you.”
Dekkard followed closely, as did Avraal, while Domanov guided Obreduur to a tall and extraordinarily thin woman with brilliant silver hair. She reminded Dekkard of a crane or perhaps a fish heron.
“Councilor … we’re so pleased to have you. We only wish it had been possible for your wife to come. We’re so indebted to her for the legal efforts that forced the Ministry of Public Resources to enforce the Water Dumping Act. Already, we’re seeing a return of the birds along the stretches of the Rio Mal north of Malek…”
Obreduur smiled and nodded when she finished, then said, “I’m glad to be here. I do wish Ingrella had been able to come, but she’s rather busy helping others such as the Outing Club…”
Despite Obreduur’s warmth and grace, Dekkard suspected he would have preferred that Ingrella be there. Before long, someone rang a bell, and Miriam escorted the councilor to the head table, where after several brief announcements, she said, “We’re so happy to welcome Councilor Obreduur, and we’ve persuaded him to say just a few words.” She seated herself.
Obreduur rose. “As you know, I’m just grateful to be the husband of the noted legalist who has spent much of her life fighting for improvements in the legal status of women and of our public lands. I won’t speak too much of her achievements, notable as they are, because you all know them. I know a bit more about other aspects of public resources, such as the lamentable Kraffeist scandal, where the Commerce-appointed Minister of Public Resources signed away coal rights on land reserved for naval use, lands that were supposed to be reserved, not exploited when an ironway didn’t plan far enough ahead … Foresight, on the other hand, is exactly what all of you here are known for…”
In just a few minutes, Obreduur concluded. “Since I wasn’t invited here to give a campaign speech … all I’ll say is when you vote a week from tomorrow, I hope you’ll support the candidate who exhibits the foresight for which all of you are known. Thank you very much.”
The spinach and veal milanesia with the mixed greens that Dekkard and the others were served was actually quite tasty … and Dekkard was more than a little hungry.
As they left the Hornbeak Bistro, Dekkard realized, belatedly, that most of the doors on which they’d knocked and more than half of the meetings were with people who he would have thought more likely to vote Landor or Commerce.
But then, with years of guild and craft experience, where he has less support is among those likely to vote Landor or Commerce. And it wasn’t as though Obreduur ignored his base.
The next stop after the Hornbeak Bistro was Geddes Square, where they arrived to see Arturo Degarcion putting up the Obreduur banner that he had also set up weeks earlier before the webball game at Syntaar Field. Even more surprising was that almost a dozen people had gathered even before Obreduur reached the banner.
The first to speak to Obreduur was a woman with a child, both unusually fair-skinned, suggesting an Atacaman background. “Councilor, sir … I was born here, but the voting clerk says I can’t vote…”
“If you were born here, you should be able to vote. Sometimes, it’s more complicated than it should be. Can you remember a name and an address?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The name is Adariana Galoor. The address is 499 Fifth Boulevard. She is a legalist with the local guild coordinating office. Tell her I sent you, and see her this afternoon or tomorrow. She can help you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
A white-haired woman, well-dressed in a lavender linen suit and matching headscarf, walked up to Obreduur and immediately spoke. “Did you know that this summer there was a Meritorist demonstration right here in the square … and that Security agents brought in soldiers to break it up? What do you think of that, Councilor?”
“I heard about the demonstration. There were others at the same time in other cities across Guldor. I’m very much opposed to the use of violence, but … unfortunately, so long as the Commercers control government and refuse to address real problems, demonstrations will continue.”
“Then the demonstrators should be gaoled … or shot if they attack lawful authorities.”
“They have been,” said Obreduur, “and that has led to more demonstrations.”
“It’s absolutely disgraceful. Don’t they have any manners? Any sense of decency?”
Dekkard wondered why Avraal hadn’t been able to calm the woman, unless … He turned and mouthed, “Isolate?”
In return, she nodded.
Dekkard stepped forward slightly. “My mother was very upset by the demonstrations. Could you tell me what they were all about?” He used his body to guide her away from Obreduur.
“They had signs. I wasn’t about to read them. Why would I read trash like that? People like that are up to no good.”
“I don’t imagine you’d agree with what they said, but if you want the councilor to oppose them, it’s very helpful for him to know why you oppose them.”
“Young man, I know what I know.”
“I’m sure that you do. What exactly do you want the councilor to do?”
“He needs to stop such outrages.”
“That’s exactly what he’s working on.” If not in the way you’d like them stopped.
“Why didn’t he say so?”
“He would have. Because my mother didn’t see the demonstrations, I wanted to hear what you saw.” Also true, if misleading.
“Well, she didn’t miss anything. Such ruffians. Absolute vagabonds.” She paused. “He is going to do something about them, I hope.”
“He definitely is.”
“Good.” Then she turned and walked away.
Dekkard eased back nearer to Obreduur.
Three bells later, after a steady stream of people to see Obreduur, Arturo folded up the banner, and everyone got back into the Gresynt. Herrardo turned the steamer back toward the hotel.
“Exactly who will be at the public-health-care gathering tonight?” asked Dekkard, not caring too much whether Herrardo or Obreduur answered.
“Physicians, nurses, and aid
es who work in the three public hospitals in Oersynt,” replied Herrardo.
Dekkard didn’t know all that much about public hospitals, only that, from what he’d heard, he didn’t want to be in any hospital, especially a public one.
“Your security grays will be better for tonight,” added Obreduur.
Once the four got back to the hotel, they ate a moderately quick and early dinner in the hotel restaurant, which left Dekkard and Avraal about two-thirds of a bell to freshen up.
When Dekkard entered his room he found a message envelope in the inside door drop. He immediately opened it, although he suspected it was from someone in his family.
Steffan—
It’s so thoughtful of the Councilor to invite us to dinner, and at the Hotel Cosmopolitano. We debated on not imposing on his schedule, but decided he wouldn’t make the invitation if he didn’t mean it. So the three of us will be there at fifth bell. I’m really looking forward to it … and to talking more with Avraal.
The signature was that of Naralta, of course.
Dekkard smiled, then laid the message on the narrow desk and went to wash up.
A little over a third later, he left his room and waited in the corridor for Avraal, who appeared in minutes.
“Naralta accepted the invitation for dinner tomorrow,” Dekkard said evenly. “She’s really looking forward to talking with you.”
“I’m sure I’ll enjoy talking with her.”
At that moment, Obreduur emerged from his room, and Dekkard passed on the acceptance to him.
“Excellent. That will provide a respite from campaigning.” He paused, then asked, “How are you finding it?”
“Interesting, but tiring.”
“Interesting in what respect?” Obreduur gestured toward the staircase down to the lobby, then started walking.
“The difference in the people you meet.”
“That’s one very good aspect of campaigning. It reminds me of that diversity … and Oersynt’s not nearly so diverse as Hasheem’s district, for example.”
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