“It’s one thing to compete against skilled workers in other lands; it’s another to have to compete against slave labor. We don’t allow cheap sussie labor in Guldor, and you shouldn’t lose jobs to it so that Commercers can have record profits.” Obreduur paused. “I said I’d be short. Vote Craft. That’s all I’ll say from up here. But do come and talk to me!” With that, he stepped down from the platform.
As he resumed his place, he said quietly, “It’s not that simple. It never is.”
For the next three bells, Obreduur talked with close to two hundred people, until Foerrster had the chimes rung. Even so, more than another third passed before Herrardo led the way back to the Gresynt.
“How do you think it went?” asked Dekkard.
“To the right!” snapped Avraal.
Dekkard turned to see a man charge around the corner of the building, then stop and start to raise what appeared to be a long-barreled revolver. Dekkard’s first knife was in the man’s shoulder before the attacker could aim the revolver. A second knife hit just under his ribs.
The man struggled to lift the weapon, but by then Dekkard had reached him and slammed the revolver out of his hand with his truncheon. The man—who couldn’t have been much older than Dekkard—looked stunned, then started to reach for the knives.
“Don’t!” ordered Dekkard. “Unless you want to bleed out right here.” He might anyway.
A series of screeching whistle blasts filled the air as the patroller who had been posted by the kitchen door hurried toward them.
“Who sent you?” demanded Dekkard.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” The man’s uninjured hand went to his mouth, and he quickly bit down and then swallowed.
“Which Commercer?” asked Dekkard.
The patroller stopped, looking at the attacker, then to Obreduur.
“He tried to shoot me. They stopped him. He just swallowed something.”
The attacker shuddered, then began to convulse.
Dekkard winced.
In minutes more patrollers arrived. They listened to the patroller who’d been there, then briefly questioned Obreduur, Avraal, and Dekkard.
After the questioning, the oldest patroller searched the body. “He wasn’t carrying any identification, just spare cartridges in one pocket.”
Dekkard hadn’t expected otherwise.
Then the patroller recovered the two knives from the body. He was frowning as he stood. “These two knives are different.”
“That’s right,” said Avraal. “The longer and narrower blade is mine.”
The patroller handed her the narrower blade. She bent and wiped it clean on the dead man’s pale green barong, before replacing it in its sheath.
Dekkard did the same after he received his blade.
The three exchanged glances. Then the oldest one looked to Obreduur, questioningly.
“They’re both security aides. There’s nothing that prohibits an empath security aide from being armed or using weapons.”
“But … she’s an empath…”
“The attacker knew the councilor would have an empath protecting him. That was one reason I took up working with throwing knives. It’s more dangerous for a single isolate to deal with an attacker carrying firearms.”
The older patroller shook his head. “There’s nothing else we need any of you for. Just be careful, Councilor.”
“We’ve been trying to be careful.” Obreduur smiled wryly. “It’s hard, though, when people keep trying to kill you.”
Once the four were in the Gresynt heading back toward the hotel, Avraal said, “I didn’t want to complicate matters, but the attacker was a susceptible. He’d been emotionally directed to kill the councilor and not get caught. He was so focused on the councilor that I didn’t catch that until he chewed that suicide pill.”
“Can that be done?” asked Herrardo.
“It can,” replied Avraal. “It takes a strong and focused empath and a very sensitive sussie. Even so, controlling another’s actions isn’t always successful, but this was set up so that I wouldn’t have a chance to realize the situation until it was too late.”
“Who do you think was behind this?” asked Herrardo.
“Someone with Commercer ties,” replied Obreduur.
“Except this assassin carried a revolver,” said Dekkard. “All the other attackers carried semi-automatic pistols. Even the New Meritorists used semi-automatic pistols. But that could be a diversion or just to make it simpler for the sussie.”
“That’s not exactly reassuring, Steffan, although I must say that this has been the most exciting month in many years.” Obreduur’s soft laugh was sardonic. Then he said, “I think it’s best we don’t mention the fact that the attacker was a susceptible … for a number of reasons.” After a moment, he added, “It also appears that you made a very wise choice to take up knives, Avraal.”
“It helped that I’ve had an excellent instructor.”
For all that had occurred, Herrardo eased the Gresynt to a stop in front of the doors of the Hotel Cosmopolitano at only a third past fourth bell.
“Third bell tomorrow morning?” asked Herrardo, turning in his seat to address Obreduur.
“Third bell,” acknowledged the councilor.
“There’s no one near that feels dangerous,” said Avraal as she followed Dekkard from the steamer, but she led the way into the hotel lobby, followed by Obreduur, and then Dekkard.
Dekkard’s family sat on a bench near the restaurant entrance. When Dekkard saw them, he asked, “Do you want to go up to your room first, sir?”
Obreduur shook his head. “That’s your family ahead on the bench? Introduce me, and we’ll have dinner.”
Dekkard moved forward and guided Obreduur and Avraal to where Raymon, Liliana, and Naralta now stood. “Mother, this is Councilor Axel Obreduur. Councilor, my mother Liliana, my father Raymon, and my sister Naralta.”
“Steffan is proud of you,” Obreduur said immediately, “but he doesn’t say much about you. In fact, he seldom talks about himself, either, and only if asked.”
“He’s always been like that.” Naralta’s eyes smiled as she added, “That might be because, as the children of artisans, we were always told that the work conveyed more about you than anything you could say.”
“It still does, daughter,” replied Liliana, an amused tone in her voice. “Art also lasts longer than the spoken word.”
“Why don’t we get settled for dinner,” said Obreduur, “and then we can continue the conversation, and we can explain why we were delayed.” With a smile, he turned and led the way into the restaurant, where the six were ushered to a corner table, a table, Dekkard noted, with more space around it than the others nearby.
While the restaurant was less than half full, if that, due to the very early time for dinner, several diners did look at the group curiously as they were seated.
Obreduur looked to Dekkard. “Would you like to explain?”
Since that wasn’t really a question, Dekkard said, “Apparently, there are people who worry that the councilor might not just be the acting premier, but might actually become the premier of the next Council…” From that preface, he explained what had happened after the afternoon reception.
“That’s three attempts on you,” said Naralta to Obreduur, “if I’ve counted correctly.”
“It’s definitely unprecedented,” replied Obreduur, “and I wouldn’t be here without Steffan and Avraal. Together, they’re quite an impressive team. Having said that, I’d like to hear more about the three of you, since Steffan tends to be protective.” He smiled, adding, “Not that I’m not extraordinarily glad that he is.”
“We’re artisans,” replied Liliana. “We’re fortunate that people like our work and are willing to pay for it.”
“You’re more than an everyday artisan,” replied Obreduur. “According to my sources, you’re one of the finest portraitists in Oersynt, if not in all Guldor.”
Naralta smiled, a
smile of pleasure and amusement, Dekkard thought. Even his father smiled, if more quietly.
“Your sources must have wanted to curry favor with you,” replied Liliana dryly.
Obreduur laughed. “You sound like my wife.” He looked up as the server approached. “We should order drinks, or this poor man will stand around politely until we do. I’ll have a Riverfall…”
In the end, the men ordered the Riverfall lager, and the women the Northcoast white.
“You left Argental so that you could pursue your art unfettered,” Obreduur said once the server had left.
“You might say that,” replied Liliana.
“I can’t believe Argental would let such talent go,” said Obreduur. “How did you manage it?”
“With great difficulty. We succeeded, and that is what matters.”
“You were shot at, weren’t you?” interjected Dekkard.
Liliana offered a puzzled expression to Dekkard.
“You wrote me that you never forgot the sound of shots.”
Liliana offered a smile both chagrinned and amused. “You’re like your father. You forget nothing. Yes, the border guards shot at us. They wouldn’t have even seen us, if the blizzard hadn’t stopped so quickly.”
Escaping through a silverstorm while under fire … Dekkard was still taking in what his mother had said when Obreduur spoke.
“You went through a silverstorm and survived? That’s…” Obreduur appeared at a loss for words.
“We were young. Raymon prepared carefully. He almost lost some of his toes it was so cold.”
Raymon just nodded. Naralta appeared as surprised as Dekkard felt.
After another moment of silence, Obreduur said, “I think it’s time to order.”
When the server came to him, Dekkard ordered lemon veal with risotto and green beans.
After the server left, Obreduur turned to Raymon. “You haven’t said much. I’m curious. Is what you do with decorative plaster here in Oersynt that different from in Argental?”
“Different? The technique is the same. Everything else is better. I don’t have architectural inspectors declaring that what I do is too artistic. Or not functional enough. I don’t have customers trying to pay me less by threatening to go to the inspectors. I can accept or reject a project. And the winter is much shorter and warmer.”
Before Obreduur could speak, Liliana asked, “Will there be others who try to kill you?”
“I have no idea. But then, three months ago, I had no idea that anyone wanted to kill me. I knew that the Commercers didn’t want the Imperador to call for elections. I knew that they’ve been trying to cover up crimes and improper behavior, and I knew that the former premier often had security agents observing me. Those were some of the reasons why I’ve maintained a full-time security team and why I was so anxious to hire Steffan. As young as he is, for a security aide, that is, he’s among the best. So is Avraal.”
“She’s likely the best security empath of all those working for the Council,” added Dekkard quickly.
“I’d agree,” replied Obreduur.
“Will things get better after the election?” asked Naralta.
“Not immediately. If we win a clear plurality, and if we can form a government, then, in time, I believe we can improve life for working people, crafters, and artisans. The Commercers won’t be totally happy at first, because they’ll lose certain unfair advantages. In the long run, they’ll be happy too. That’s because they’re happier when people buy more, and poor people can’t buy as much. Prosperous people can. So by making more people prosperous…”
“But that will take time … and during that time, there might be more attempts on your life,” pressed Naralta.
“That’s possible.”
“But it’s less likely if he becomes premier,” added Avraal, “because he’ll be more visible, and the popular reaction to an attempt on his life would be severe, especially by the New Meritorists, particularly if it’s tied to Commercer sources.”
“So the hard part will be getting through the next week or so?” asked Liliana.
“Probably,” said Obreduur.
“Did you ever foresee Steffan working for a councilor?” asked Avraal.
“No,” replied Raymon. “We only hoped he wouldn’t become a naval officer. I thought commercial security was a possibility.” He smiled. “Lila said that would be a waste of his talent and determination. She was right. As usual.”
“Why did you think that?” Avraal asked Liliana.
“It was just a feeling. Even when Steffan was working for his father, he insisted on doing things as well as he could. Sometimes … it was painful.”
“For all of us,” replied Dekkard wryly. “Especially when I tried to duplicate a plaster casting of a full ornate old Imperial crown molding. That was almost a disaster.”
“I can’t believe anything you did was a disaster,” said Avraal.
“It wasn’t,” replied Raymon. “It was almost perfect.”
“It just took me four attempts and three days to do what my father could do in two bells,” said Dekkard. “And it wasn’t near as good. Barely acceptable, if that.”
“A little better than that,” corrected Raymon.
“And you should have heard his language.” Naralta’s smile was one of amused recollection. “For all three days.”
“As I recall,” said Dekkard, “it was shortly after that when Mother suggested I take the competitive exams for the Institute.”
“Sometimes, events like that work for the better,” said Obreduur. “I wasn’t really strong enough to be a stevedore. Breaking my fingers didn’t get that across, but when a loader dropped a barrel of pickles on my boot because I wasn’t moving fast enough … and I lost two toes and almost died from the infection … that was when I decided to go to trade school. I figured even working as a clerk was better than what I’d been doing … and one thing led to another…”
From that moment on, the conversation revolved around family anecdotes, as well as a few more from Obreduur’s life.
Before Dekkard knew it, the dinner, and dessert, was over, and the first bell of evening had long since chimed.
“We shouldn’t keep you any longer,” Obreduur said warmly. “I’m so glad that I had the chance to meet you three.” He grinned and added as he stood from the table, “And that you instilled patience and determination in Steffan.”
“You were so kind to ask us for dinner,” replied Liliana. “I can see why Steffan appreciates working for you.”
“I appreciate his working for me, and especially saving my life. So does my wife.”
The six left the restaurant and walked out into the hotel lobby. There Naralta hugged her brother and said quietly, “Just be careful … and don’t lose her.”
“I intend to be careful on both counts.”
“You’d better.” Then she stepped back.
Dekkard just watched as Naralta and his parents crossed the lobby. Once they were out of sight, he turned.
“You and your entire family are quite remarkable,” said Obreduur quietly. “I suspected that, but they certainly confirmed it.”
“I knew it had been difficult, but they never would talk about it.”
“They didn’t want sympathy,” said Obreduur. “They wanted recognition based on their art.”
Dekkard could understand that. But why now? Because you’re old enough to understand and appreciate that?
“If you don’t mind,” said Obreduur, “I need to work on some messages to send out first thing in the morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard was still thinking over dinner as he and Avraal escorted Obreduur up the steps to the second level.
Once they had Obreduur safely in his chamber Dekkard walked Avraal the few yards to her doorway. “Do you want to talk? It’s not that late.”
“Not tonight. I need to think over some things.”
“Do you want to talk it out with me?”
She sh
ook her head, then reached up and took his head in her hands, drawing him down to her, then kissed him, a long, gentle, yet passionate expression. When she released him, she said quietly, “You’re even more remarkable than your parents. Anyone less couldn’t have survived, let alone triumphed.”
Dekkard leaned forward and kissed her, in much the same way as she had him. Then, after looking into her eyes, he said, “You’re even more remarkable.”
She smiled, an expression both warm and amused. “We both may be remarkable, but we both need to think and to sleep.” The last word was gently emphasized.
95
ON Unadi morning, Dekkard and Avraal didn’t have a chance to talk privately because Obreduur woke them early to go to a last-minute breakfast meeting of the Ironway Servitors Guild, after which Herrardo drove them to Central Square. After setting up the banner near the fountain and statue of Laureous the Great, Dekkard surveyed the square. While the fallen masonry from the explosion of the regional Security headquarters had been removed from Victory Avenue and the surrounding buildings and sidewalks, no apparent effort was evident either to rebuild, repair, or demolish the structure.
Most likely the acting Minister of Security is waiting for the election results and a new Minister of Security. Then Dekkard shook his head, realizing that not enough time had passed even to work out engineering plans.
As the morning passed, and Dekkard began to sweat in the steamy air that was far more summer-like than fall-like, Obreduur stood under his banner and talked to everyone he could—and that was a considerable number because, once word got out to the shops around the square, many working in the area came to question him, or just to pay their respects. Several porters and two doormen from the Fairwind Hotel also talked to Obreduur, if briefly. One even asked Obreduur not to talk badly about the hotel because of the assassin dressed like a doorman.
“I wouldn’t think of it,” the councilor replied. “That wasn’t your fault or the hotel’s. Assassins don’t care who else gets hurt.”
After about three bells, Obreduur had Avraal and Dekkard take down the banner, and Herrardo drove the three from Central Square to the cloth market, where Obreduur spent another three bells going from stall to stall, the same way as he had in the produce market.
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