“But … your dream was also telling you how important women are to the Craft Party.”
“They’re important to all working families. Wasn’t that true in your family?”
Dekkard nodded. “Marks were tight until Mother established herself as a portraitist.” After a pause, he asked, “Is that as true in Landor families?”
“Not in the same way. I did notice that families where the woman took a greater role in managing the lands tended to be better run and more prosperous. Not always, but usually.”
“What’s your feeling about the election—despite your nightmare?”
“I do feel we picked up at least a seat or two and that we’ll have the greatest number of Council seats. Whether that will be enough seats for a working majority … I have no idea.”
“My feeling exactly,” said Obreduur from where he stood in the compartment door. “Let’s go have breakfast … and no more talk about elections. Two bells from now … we’ll have a much better idea.”
At breakfast, no one said too much at first, not until Avraal started on her second mug of café, when she said, “I’ve been thinking … even if you can’t form a government … can you at least press for a Council investigation of what happened to Markell … and the way the big engineering firms are operating? They have to be costing the government millions of marks.”
“I can try,” replied Obreduur. “Volkaar might find that useful as a way of demonstrating the Commerce Party isn’t beholden to engineering corporacions. Even if we do form a government, that would still be the best way to start investigating corporacion misfeasance…”
The three lingered over café for almost two bells, generally avoiding government and politics, and touching on more personal topics, such as Nellara’s increasing self-confidence and whether it was natural maturation or whether her increasing proficiency in knife-throwing might have helped.
As they rose to leave the dining carriage, Obreduur turned to Dekkard. “By the way, there will be a Council limousine waiting to take us to the Council Office Building. I arranged that before we left. We’ll use it to return to the house late this afternoon, and then we’ll return to our normal routine tomorrow morning. I thought that might be a bit more secure.”
“A great deal more secure.” And it will allow us to focus our full attention on security.
For the last bell of the journey, Dekkard found himself looking out the compartment window and wondering just what they’d discover when they reached Machtarn.
The express came to a halt at the station platform at a sixth past the fifth bell of the morning. Obreduur held back until the passengers most in a hurry in their carriage had gotten off, and then Dekkard got off with the cases and summoned a porter.
But when Obreduur and Avraal stepped out of the carriage, two men in worn white linen suits immediately hurried across the platform toward the councilor. “Premier Obreduur! Premier Obreduur! We’re from Gestirn and the Tribune. Could we have a statement, sir?”
At those cries, several of the remaining disembarking passengers turned to look at Obreduur with various expressions, ranging from curiosity to surprise. Dekkard didn’t see any looks of disgust or disdain, but that was simply a matter of chance. “I think that means your days of relative obscurity are over, sir,” he said quietly.
“We’ll see.” Obreduur looked to Avraal.
“They feel like they’re newsies,” she said.
Dekkard still moved forward, ready to act.
The two men, one apparently younger than Dekkard, slowed as they took in the two security aides, then stopped short of the three.
“We’d just like a few words, sir,” said the older man, his hair slightly graying. “I’m Thom Carares from Gestirn, and this is Domenick Mychaels. He’s from the Tribune.”
Avraal nodded slightly to Obreduur. Dekkard kept surveying the platform, but it was emptying quickly.
“Together?” asked Obreduur.
“I didn’t know enough to find you,” said the younger man. “I prevailed on Sr. Carares to let me trail along with him.”
“I’d be happy to offer some words, but since I haven’t seen the election results, I can’t say much.”
“It appears, from the early returns, that the Craft Party has at least twenty-eight seats, and might gain one or two more. What do you have to say about that?”
“If it turns out that way after all the results are in, I’d have to say that it represents years of hard work by a great number of dedicated people.”
“Do you think the failure of the Commerce Party to deal with the New Meritorists influenced the election?” asked Carares.
“Usually, a number of factors affect elections. The New Meritorists gained much of their support from people who felt left out by Commercer acts and policies. The previous government failed to understand that, and just made the situation worse by shooting demonstrators.”
“Do you plan to continue as premier?” asked Carares.
Obreduur laughed softly. “That’s not my choice. It also depends on all the other councilors. Even if the Craft Party gains thirty seats, unless we get four more, the Imperador may offer the Commerce Party the first chance to form a coalition government. One way or another it will still be up to the councilors as to whom they select as their candidate for premier. If I happen to be that person, I’ll be very honored.”
“But you’re the one who masterminded it all,” declared Mychaels.
“I’m only one of several people who’ve worked to achieve these election results.”
“Are you considering your wife for the position of Minister of the Justiciary?” asked Mychaels, almost impatiently.
“That’s not possible. Even if it were, she informed me that she would not have considered any ministerial appointment.”
“Then who will you consider?”
“The most qualified candidates, of course.” Obreduur laughed gently once again. “I’ll be happy to answer questions with more specifics at the proper time, if indeed I’m the one who ends up with that responsibility.”
“It’s been reported that you’ve been the target of several assassins. Is that true?” pressed Mychaels.
“It is.”
“Do you know why?”
“That would only be a guess on my part. The assassins all either were killed or killed themselves, and there was no evidence found to lead elsewhere. As both your newssheets have reported, I’m far from the only councilor who has been the target of assassins.”
“You’re one of the few who’s survived, sir,” pointed out Carares.
“I’m fortunate to have two very good security aides.”
“When will you know if you’ll be Guldor’s next premier?”
“It won’t be before Quindi, when the new Council convenes. Depending on the Council votes, it could be Quindi … or it could take several days. Your judgment is as good as mine.”
“If you become premier, what will your priorities be?”
“I’ll be happy to answer that if and when I’m premier. Thank you both for your courtesy.” Obreduur inclined his head, then began to walk toward the station.
Avraal and Dekkard flanked him, with the porter and the baggage cart following.
“That’s only the beginning,” observed Obreduur. “When I don’t give them what they want, they’ll ask you or others. I’d prefer that you reply by saying, ‘It would be best if the councilor answered that.’”
“Except, if you become premier,” said Dekkard, “it would be best if the Premier answered that.”
“You’re optimistic, Steffan.”
“I’m not that optimistic, sir. Everything’s a bit of a mess. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re asked to be premier so that you have to handle the problems. I suspect that the Commercers believe you can’t, and that they’ll be back in power in a year … or less.”
Obreduur’s laugh was slightly bitter. “You just might be right. Then what?”
“We figure out a way to solve the proble
ms, and it will be years before the Commercers have a chance at regaining power.”
“That might be considered unrealistically optimistic,” returned Obreduur dryly.
As they left the station proper, Dekkard immediately spotted the black Gresynt limousine with the Council insignia on the hood—and with an armed Council Guard standing beside it.
Perhaps twenty people stopped, stood, and watched as Obreduur and his small entourage approached the limousine. Dekkard studied the small crowd, then looked to Avraal.
“Nothing suspicious,” she replied. “Mostly curious.”
“Premier!” The guard saluted.
“At ease,” replied Obreduur, “and thank you.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
Despite Avraal’s words, Dekkard was breathing much more easily once the Council limousine was on Imperial Boulevard headed to the Council Hall.
He said quietly to Avraal, “I worry about all those people gathering around him. That won’t stop if he becomes premier.”
“Most of them won’t be a problem, not with small crowds, like the one at the ironway station.”
Meaning that we might need help if there are large crowds.
True to form, in the back of the limousine, Obreduur was writing. Messages, Dekkard thought.
Before that long, the limousine pulled up in front of the Council Hall’s east entrance, where the three got out, leaving their luggage with the long steamer, and entered the Hall.
“We’ll go straight to the Council Office Building,” said Obreduur. “I need to know more before I do anything, and that’s where the messages I need to see will be.”
The corridors in both the Council Hall and the Council Office Building were eerily quiet, but that was scarcely surprising, since most councilors were in their districts, and with the Council dissolved, what staffers could do was limited, and the majority of councilors tended to allow staff more time off in the days before the election and on the day afterward.
Duadi would be another matter, and by Quindi, when the new Council was sworn in, the corridors would be back to their usual state.
The moment Dekkard opened the office door for Obreduur, Karola called out, “He’s here!”
Almost immediately, everyone in the side office surged into the anteroom.
“Congratulations, sir!” declared Macri. “Or should we say, congratulations, Premier?”
“Hold off on the premier title,” said Obreduur. “Even if the Council votes for me, the Imperador has to confer it, but I appreciate everything that all of you have done over the last few years. It wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. Now … give me a few minutes to go through all the messages and heliograms, and I’ll tell all of you what I know.”
As Obreduur closed the door to his inner office, Macri looked at Avraal and Dekkard and asked, “Were there more attacks on him?”
“One more,” said Avraal. “In Oersynt. Likely someone hired indirectly by the Commercers. Steffan questioned him, but he swallowed a suicide capsule, and I couldn’t sense any reaction.”
“Why do they hate him so much?” asked Margrit.
“They don’t,” said Macri. “They fear he’ll succeed, and they’ve done too many illegal things that will come to light if he becomes premier. I wouldn’t be surprised if a great number of documents, all across Machtarn, are being burned today. There will likely be suspicious gaps in the records of many corporacions … and likely in some ministries as well.”
“At the very least,” added Roostof, “he’s made the corporacions more cautious. That will continue for a time, even if he doesn’t become premier.”
“That’s not enough,” declared Raynaad. “He has to be premier if there’s going to be any real change.”
“He’ll be premier,” predicted Macri, “but all any of you are to say is exactly what he said, that the Council will decide. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded, although Raynaad did so slowly.
Dekkard sat down at his desk and looked at the empty surface, one of the very few times when he’d arrived and found no letters or petitions awaiting him. He felt like he should be doing something while he waited.
Before long, Obreduur opened the inner office door. “Everyone, come in. Leave the door open just in case we get messengers.” Then he walked back into the office and stood in front of the desk, waiting until everyone was gathered.
“First … I did win reelection, with the widest margin so far. The latest message from the Craft Party headquarters states that we have definitely won twenty-nine seats in the next Council, and we might win one more. The Commercers have nineteen seats, and the Landors have seventeen seats. There's one undecided seat. Also, apparently our trip to Gaarlak in Summerend did some good. I received a separate message from Jens Seigryn that Haasan Decaro did win that seat over Elvann Wheiter, with the Landor candidate coming in third. There was a difference of less than two thousand votes between Decaro and Wheiter.”
“You said that would happen,” commented Macri.
“I thought it likely.” Obreduur smiled wryly. “Now … we have to see what the Council will do when it convenes on Quindi. It’s going to be strange to be the one convening the Council. It’s been something like two hundred years since there was a Craft premier, even an acting one, convening the Council.” He paused. “In the meantime, I’d like to meet with each of you, individually, for a few minutes, beginning with Ivann.”
As Dekkard filed out of the inner office with the others, he couldn’t help but wonder exactly what Obreduur would have to say to him. He watched as Macri left, with a vaguely pleased expression, then Roostof, Raynaad, and Avraal. Avraal had a slightly amused expression as she said, “You’re next.”
Dekkard entered the inner office, closed the door, and sat down in the middle chair. “Sir?”
“You know, Steffan, I’m still amazed at how unfailingly polite you are. Yet, at the same time … I don’t quite know what to say to you. Without you, I wouldn’t be here.”
“Sir … it took both of us.”
“I understand that. You and Avraal are a team, and together you’re outstanding. But I worry about you.”
Dekkard frowned. “Me, sir?”
“You’re far too perceptive and intelligent to spend the rest of your life as a security aide, or even as a legalist.”
“You want me to go elsewhere, sir?”
“By the Three, not at all! I just want you to understand that, if the time comes when you feel constricted … or bored … I’ll support and help you in any way I can to allow you to move on to whatever you feel will fulfill you.”
“Sir … you’ve paid me well, and in the past year, you’ve widened my understanding and knowledge. I like doing what I do here. Somehow … it feels … right.”
“You’re very good at it, too. In time … perhaps not even in the too distant future … you might want to think about a career on the political side. Have you thought about that?”
“I can’t say I have, sir. I’ve just been trying to learn everything I can.”
“I’ve noticed. That’s an admirable trait. Try not to lose it. It will serve you well, in anything you do.”
“Sir … what about Avraal? She’s incredibly intelligent, perceptive, and works hard, too.”
Obreduur smiled broadly. “I’ve already told her almost exactly what I’ve told you. She could have an outstanding political career also … except she’d be limited to staff positions, or a senior position in the guilds or a corporacion. She’s an outstanding empath, but…”
She could never be a councilor … just because she’s an empath. “That’s … so wrong … in a way. I mean, I understand the reason, but…”
“We can’t make everything right, or even better, all at once, Steffan. You’ve seen that already.”
“I know, but it’s more obvious when it’s someone you know.” And love.
“I understand that. Believe me, I do.”
“Oh … that Ritten Obreduur can�
�t be a minister if you’re premier … and she’s the most qualified in Guldor?”
“Exactly.”
“That’s wrong, too.”
Obreduur shook his head. “It’s not wrong. Otherwise, we’d already have whole families of Commercers leeching off the government. It’s just unfortunate. Her advice and counsel will be invaluable.” Obreduur did not speak for several moments, then said, “You’ve benefitted from Avraal’s advice and counsel. It appears that way to me … or am I mistaken?”
“No, sir. I listen carefully to her.”
“That’s excellent … I hope … I hope you continue.”
Dekkard wondered what Obreduur might have said and had not. “You will let us continue as a team?”
“I’d never think of breaking you two apart. You’re so good together, and I think you each benefit from the other. If I am selected as premier and accepted by the Imperador, I’ll also be able to pay you both a bit more.”
“You’ve been generous, sir.”
Obreduur laughed softly. “Given how many times you two have saved me, you’re worth far more than I could ever pay.” Again, Obreduur paused. “Is there anything else I haven’t covered or you’d like to know?”
“I’ll think of questions as soon as I leave, but I don’t have any right now.”
“You can always ask me, Steffan.”
“Thank you.” Since Obreduur remained seated, Dekkard asked, “Is there anything else?”
“That’s all for now,” replied Obreduur warmly. “If you’d have Karola come in next?”
“Yes, sir.” Dekkard rose and left the inner office, saying as he paused by Karola’s desk, “You’re next.”
“Thank you, Steffan.”
Dekkard returned to his desk, thinking about the number of Obreduur’s almost awkward pauses in his talk with Dekkard, all of them somehow connected with Avraal, enough so that it was clear Obreduur knew that the two had a bond that was far more than professional.
But you can’t get married and keep working together. Nor can you become intimate and have it discovered and keep working together. Was that what he didn’t want to bring up? But he also as much as said you’d both be idiots if you let go of each other.
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