“Was the assassin at the Ritter’s Inn his doing?” asked Dekkard.
“Most likely, but I have no way of proving that.”
For a moment, Dekkard didn’t know exactly what to say. “It was right after the reception where you had me speak.”
“Obviously, he took your failure to endorse him … rather personally,” said Avraal.
“He knew I wouldn’t. That had to have been planned earlier.” Obreduur straightened. “There’s not much we can do at this point, either about Haasan or what the Council decides. If you two are caught up on correspondence, you might write down, in case I am selected as premier, what you think are the most important priorities for the new Council … and why.”
“Yes, sir.”
“On your way out, would you tell Ivann that I need to see him. He needs to know about Haasan’s death as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
After they left the inner office and Dekkard had relayed Obreduur’s request to Macri, he walked back toward his desk, stopping beside Avraal when she gestured.
“You know…” murmured Avraal.
“Later…”
She nodded.
For the rest of the day, Dekkard struggled, not so much with priorities, but with their order and the reasons for that order. Clearly, in his mind, one of the most important issues was how to reassure the working people and the shopkeepers that the new government would be more concerned with their needs—but how best to address and express that concern was definitely going to be difficult.
In the end, it was after dinner before Dekkard and Avraal met under the portico.
“It was the bootmaker, wasn’t it?” asked Avraal.
“That … or she was set up to take the fall if someone looked deeply.” Dekkard paused. “The thing is … Obreduur was surprised by the heliogram, but not so much by Decaro’s death. That’s what I saw, anyway.”
“That’s what I sensed as well. He wasn’t so much surprised at Decaro’s death as when or how it happened.”
“Maybe Decaro just made too many enemies. Obreduur’s statement that no one was going to look deeply into it suggests that.” After a moment, Dekkard added, “After the district party chose Decaro as Lamarr’s replacement, Obreduur said something to the effect that Jens Seigryn would have to deal with it.”
“You think…?”
“It’s certainly possible, but it’s looking to me like they’d planned something, and someone else beat them to it … and that has Obreduur worried.”
“Maybe it really was the bootmaker,” suggested Avraal. “She might have been afraid of the power Decaro would have as councilor … and she knew that Decaro had already planned the earlier attempt to kill Obreduur. We’ll have to keep all that in mind … but I don’t know that we’ll ever find out.”
Dekkard just nodded, then asked, “I saw you got a message. I assume it was from Emrelda. How is she?”
“She’s doing as well as she can. She has Findi off this week and invited us to spend the day.”
“I’d like that … but if you wanted time with her without me…”
Avraal smiled. “You’re sweet, but we’re going together. You might have to spend a bell reading on the veranda, but that wouldn’t be an ordeal, I’m sure.”
Not in the slightest!
100
FOR Dekkard and Avraal, Tridi was much the same as Duadi had been, although the corridors of the Council Office Building were now returning to a semblance of what Dekkard thought of as normal, except they were also crowded with the handcarts removing the personal property and effects of councilors who had been defeated and those who had retired or been forced to stand down. In addition, some returning senior councilors opted to move to what they perceived as better offices among those of departing councilors. Obreduur could have chosen to move to another office, but had decided against it, since most of the vacated offices were on the lower level amid those of largely Commercer councilors, and since none of those available were any larger than his present spaces.
Dekkard suspected that Obreduur also didn’t want to deal with the hassles of moving an office while thinking about and trying to research possible ministerial appointees … although Dekkard knew that Ingrella had to be deeply involved.
Even by the end of the day on Tridi, Obreduur had received no word from the Gaarlak District Craft Party, and only a heliogram from Jens Seigryn that discussion was apparently heated, especially since Gretna Haarl had appeared before the leadership as the new guildmeister of the Textile Millworkers and opposed several proposed replacements, particularly the former guildmeister. According to Obreduur, Seigryn was going to try to suggest a compromise candidate in hopes of breaking the bargejam.
There was more speculation in the Furdi-morning edition of Gestirn about whether enough Landor and/or unhappy Commercer councilors would break with their leadership and vote for a Craft premier as well as another small article on how the likely Craft candidate, the acting Premier, was keeping a low profile.
Even so, when Dekkard finished parking the Gresynt and walked into the Council Office Building that morning, he wasn’t totally surprised to see Amelya Detauran heading directly toward him.
“Congratulations to you and Avraal … and your councilor.”
“Thank you, but at best, congratulations might be a little premature.”
“Would you mind if I walked up with you?”
“Not at all.” While it was clear that Detauran wanted something, Dekkard was curious to know what that might be.
The two entered the staff staircase, which seemed empty of others at that moment.
“From what Kaliara has been able to piece together, you and Avraal have stopped three or four assassination attempts on your boss. Is that accurate? Or have there been more?”
“There have been some that weren’t reported, but I’d have to deny saying so.”
“I thought so, and I told Kaliara that it was my guess that there had been more. She’s very upset about that. There have been several attempts on her as well. Do you know if Premier Obreduur will address the excesses of Security?”
“He’s looked into those problems, and he has some ideas. I think it’s fair to say that he’ll do something that will directly address those abuses, but I can’t say what or how swiftly.”
Detauran did not say more until they left the staircase on the second level. Then she stopped next to the wall and looked directly at Dekkard.
He waited.
“Kaliara doesn’t want another Commercer premier. At least not for some years. She can’t and won’t say anything. But she wants that message conveyed.”
“I can do that.”
Detauran nodded. “Now … a personal question. Are you going to let Avraal slip through your fumbling fingers?”
That question did surprise Dekkard. For a moment, he just stood there. Finally, he said, “No. I’ve promised. Somehow.”
“Kaliara might be able to help there, too. She knows a lot of senior corporacion types. If you need to, keep it in mind.” Then she smiled. “I’ll see you two around.”
Then she turned and strode off.
Dekkard was still puzzling it all over when he walked into the office and asked Karola, “Is anyone with him?”
She shook her head.
“I need a moment.”
Karola just gestured to the inner office.
Dekkard opened the door and walked in, closing the door quietly but firmly.
Obreduur was standing by the partly open window, taking in the slight early-fall breeze. “You look like you have some news.”
“I do.” Dekkard went on to relate what Amelya Detauran had conveyed about Councilor Bassaana.
“Do you trust the information?”
“I trust the source. She’s always been accurate and truthful before. She also speaks in a way that suggests she’s closer to her councilor than are many security isolates. And she’s mentioned her councilor’s dissatisfaction with the Commerce leader
ship before. That suggests to me that she’s telling the truth about the attempts on her councilor.”
“That’s very interesting. We’ll see how the vote comes out. If several Commercer votes show up, then that will also give me a stronger position in dealing with Security.” Obreduur frowned, then said, “You’ve seen more of what goes on with a councilor’s job and life than most staffers ever do, simply because I’ve required more security than most. Honestly now, what do you think?”
“I think you’re doing a difficult job, trying to do the best for everyone when almost no one is looking for what’s right, but wanting what they want.”
“Don’t you find that depressing? Especially when campaigning?”
“Not that depressing, sir. People are what they are. Even the best government can’t be perfect.” Dekkard smiled wryly. “I might be a little more depressed if I were actually a councilor, but that’s one of the really good aspects of the Great Charter. Most people can’t focus their unhappiness on their councilor, only on the party. But they can express their frustrations, and they can ask for change. Of course, it’s a two-edged blade, because a councilor who’s weak or incompetent isn’t directly held accountable, but if his party … or her party … doesn’t deal with such a councilor, they risk losing the seat. Isn’t that what you’ve used in gaining seats for the Craft Party?”
“I’d like to think so.” Obreduur laughed softly, then asked, “What about campaigning? What do you think of that?”
“It’s work. Some nights, my feet hurt. It’s also necessary, it seems to me. I learned a lot just by listening.”
“That’s usually the case,” Obreduur said dryly. He paused, then said, “Thank you. I appreciate the information.”
Dekkard inclined his head, turned, and headed back to his desk to struggle with the document on priorities for the new Council.
101
QUINDI morning, both Dekkard and Avraal were up early, because Obreduur had informed them the night before that they needed to leave almost a bell earlier. He’d also informed them that they needed to wear their dressier gray suits, rather than security grays, because the results of the vote for premier might be almost unprecedented and of possible historical significance. Of course, that meant that he wouldn’t be wearing his gladius, but that was no loss, given that he’d never actually used it, not in over two years.
Dekkard was glad the vote was on Quindi because his two gray suits hadn’t come back from the cleaners until Furdi afternoon, and when he’d mentioned that to Obreduur, the councilor had just smiled and said, “Steffan, it might be wise to expand your dress wardrobe with your coming increase in pay.”
“I agree,” Avraal had said.
Facing such unanimity, Dekkard had replied, “Once I’m paid.”
As he dressed, he looked at the gray suit, of far better quality than he’d ever purchased before, and one that he wouldn’t have purchased without Avraal’s encouragement, and the gray cravat that Avraal had given him. Two years before, he’d never considered that he’d be part of one of the greatest political changes in centuries. He hadn’t been totally convinced that it would actually happen until Furdi morning, when Amelya Detauran had drawn him aside and delivered her message.
Once dressed, except for the coat, he made his way downstairs, where he immediately picked up Gestirn. The lead-story headline was direct enough: HISTORIC VOTE POSSIBLE. He quickly read the story, but there was nothing new in it, and he replaced the newssheet on the side table. Then, hearing Avraal’s steps on the back staircase, he poured her café and then his own, but did not sit down.
He couldn’t help but smile when she entered the staff room in the tailored and stylish gray suit, if with trousers rather than a skirt. “I just poured your café.”
“Perhaps I should dress this way every morning.”
“It might not be practical, but I wouldn’t mind.” Dekkard waited for her to sit before seating himself. “It could be a very special day, but we’ll have to be very careful. We wouldn’t want anyone to spoil it.”
“You two look like theatre idols,” said Rhosali as she stepped into the staff room.
“No. Steffan does. I’m just presentable.”
“You look gorgeous,” Dekkard protested.
“You’re not exactly objective.”
“And you are?” he asked wryly.
“We need to eat,” said Avraal. “It’s going to be a long day.”
Dekkard had to agree. He served Avraal a croissant and took two for himself, along with two slices of the quince paste.
Avraal did finally eat most of the croissant, but only after two mugs of café.
Then they left the staff room to finish getting ready. Dekkard tried to be especially careful of his gray suit in readying the Gresynt, but he had it under the portico before anyone else was there.
He was momentarily surprised to see Ingrella walking beside her husband, with Avraal behind the couple, but realized immediately that Ingrella definitely needed to be present in the reserved section of the gallery when the vote took place. The councilor wore a dark blue suit with the bright red cravat, but he still carried the case that was stuffed with papers and messages. Ingrella wore a tailored suit of the same dark blue, with a nearly transparent silver headscarf.
Once everyone was in the Gresynt, Dekkard eased the steamer down the drive, but at the end, rather than turn right onto Altarama, Dekkard turned left, announcing, “I’m taking a different route this morning.”
Obreduur didn’t even look up from his papers.
Ingrella said, “That’s not a bad idea.”
The detour added a few minutes to the trip, since Dekkard didn’t get onto Imperial Boulevard until he was a good five blocks north of his usual entry point. Intent as both Dekkard and Avraal were, neither discerned anything presenting a threat or danger.
When Dekkard turned onto Council Avenue, Obreduur looked up from his papers and said, “Take us to the east entrance of the Council Hall. Avraal will escort us in, and Ingrella will wait in the spousal lounge. Then you can park as usual. Avraal and I will walk to the office.”
Dekkard frowned, but then Avraal escorted Obreduur into the Council Office Building every morning. Except this isn’t every morning.
“We’ll be fine,” Avraal murmured. “I am carrying knives.”
Dekkard followed Obreduur’s directions, but he did get out of the Gresynt and walk to the east entrance doors before returning to the steamer and driving back to the covered parking. Several Council Guards studied him, but apparently they all seemed to recognize him. You’ve been walking past them for two years largely unrecognized and in a matter of days now they know who you are. That thought bemused him, but didn’t distract him as he made his way up the staff staircase.
Karola looked bewildered when he stepped into the office.
For the first time ever, he realized he was actually in the office before Obreduur and Avraal. “Ritten Obreduur came with us this morning. They escorted her to the lounge and are walking through the courtyard back here.”
“Oh … of course. I knew she was coming, but the councilor didn’t mention the details.” After a moment, Karola added, “No, there isn’t anything for you to draft.”
Less than a sixth later, Avraal and Obreduur entered the office, and Karola handed Obreduur several messages, some of which were clearly in heliogram envelopes.
“Thank you.” Obreduur nodded and then closed the door.
Dekkard turned to Avraal. “There wasn’t any trouble, was there?”
“No. He had to stop by the premier’s office to deal with a few official matters. They didn’t take that long. We’ll have to escort him back there before fifth bell so he can deal with some more last-moment arrangements.”
Abruptly, the inner office door opened and Obreduur stood there. “Steffan … if you’d come in. There are some details I need to go over with you.” Obreduur had an expression on his face that Dekkard couldn’t read as he turned and walked i
nto the inner office.
Dekkard looked to Avraal.
“He’s disturbed, but not angry, and a little amused, in a strange way. You’d better go in.”
Dekkard followed Obreduur, closing the door.
Obreduur sat down behind the desk and gestured to the middle chair. “This may take a few minutes.”
“Have I done something wrong, sir?” Dekkard had the feeling something was different, but what, he couldn’t tell.
“By the Three, no. You’ve done more than anyone could have hoped … but … it is going to be a little awkward.”
“Awkward?”
“This might explain it better.” Obreduur leaned forward and handed Dekkard a heliogram envelope.
Dekkard took it.
“You need to take it out and read it.”
Dekkard extracted the single sheet and read.
After long and careful deliberation, the Craft Party of the District of Gaarlak recommends one Steffan Delos Dekkard as the replacement for the deceased Haasan Hyel Decaro as the Councilor for the District of Gaarlak …
There was more but Dekkard read those words again. They didn’t change.
“This isn’t some sort of jest, sir, is it?” Dekkard asked.
Obreduur’s voice was both somehow pleased and sad. “No, it’s not. I also have heliograms from Jens Seigryn and Yorik Haansel, confirming it. After almost three days of bitter and acrimonious debate, Gretna Haarl offered you as the only compromise candidate that the Textile Millworkers would accept. I have always thought that, in time, you would make an excellent councilor. I had never planned on it happening this soon. That’s why I have very mixed feelings. Your instincts are good. You’re incredibly intelligent, and you learn quickly, but…”
“… there’s a great deal I don’t know and need to learn.”
Obreduur nodded.
Dekkard’s next words were instinctive. “I’d be better with Avraal.”
“You can’t fraternize with staffers. Anyone’s staffer. You know that.” For all the evenness of Dekkard’s words, the councilor was smiling.
“But I can marry her…”
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