Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “No, sir, the director hasn’t arrived.”

  At that moment, Obreduur opened his door. “He’s still not here?”

  “No, sir,” repeated Karola.

  The councilor frowned. Then he reentered his office and closed the door.

  Dekkard had wondered, more than once, what Obreduur did in the office when he wasn’t meeting people … besides reading his copy of Rules and Procedures or writing personal missives that he handed to Karola—and no one else—for dispatch by messenger or post. But Obreduur wrote far more than a few such missives, and they couldn’t be to a mistress, not when just about the only times he was away from Dekkard and Ysella were when he was in the councilors’ lobby or dining room, the main Council Hall chamber, or at home on Findi, when they had the day off.

  A good sixth later, a messenger in the gold and black uniform of Guldoran Heliograph, whose solar-mirror towers conveyed messages and linked the larger cities, entered the office and handed an envelope to Karola. “For the councilor.”

  Karola waited only until the messenger left before standing and rapping on the door. “There’s a heliogram for you, sir.” Then she entered, returning to her desk almost immediately.

  Within a few minutes, Obreduur walked out of his office, his jacket partly unbuttoned, and hurried into the larger staff chamber, leaving that door open, which Dekkard appreciated, because with both the door to Obreduur’s private office open and the staff office door open, there was more of a breeze, although the offices weren’t nearly so hot as they would be in another four weeks at the beginning of summer.

  Then Obreduur walked back toward his office, leaving the staff door ajar. Abruptly, he stopped, turned, and addressed Dekkard. “Director Deron was unable to make the meeting because of an ironway problem. He’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. I’d like you to join Felix at the meeting.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That ironway problem overloaded the heliograph system … everyone must have been sending messages because they couldn’t get somewhere or another.” Obreduur shook his head. The councilor didn’t quite slam the door as he reentered his office.

  “Going to meetings, now,” said Ysella. “You’re coming up in the world.”

  “I hope I do as well as you do,” returned Dekkard.

  “He asks for me when he wants the opinion of a working woman … or an empath.”

  Dekkard couldn’t help but wonder what had been in the heliogram that had prompted Obreduur to have Dekkard join the meeting. He did know one thing—that Obreduur was far from happy. A meeting between Obreduur and an ironway director was not likely to be pleasant for Dekkard, especially if Obreduur was as unhappy as he seemed. Dekkard looked to Ysella and mouthed, “Is he as angry as I think he is?”

  “More like irritated.”

  Even so, that meant that the drive back to Obreduur’s small mansion would be very quiet.

  Dekkard decided to return to drafting responses.

  3

  ON Tridi morning, Dekkard hurried down to the staff room because he wanted to look at Hyelda’s Gestirn. He hoped that there might be more about the Kraffeist Affair, especially after the newssheet stories on Unadi, but there had been nothing on Duadi. Unfortunately, there was still nothing in Gestirn, and Dekkard doubted that there would have been more in the other newssheet—The Machtarn Tribune—given its pro-Commercer bias.

  Dekkard did see a story head that caught his eye—IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY TO CUT ADMISSIONS. Frowning, he skimmed the article, which quoted the Minister of Health as saying that providing university educations to more students than there were positions requiring such an education was a waste, and that enrollment at all government-funded universities would be capped at present levels for the foreseeable future.

  While Dekkard wondered about that, and even more about why there was nothing more in the newssheets about the whole Kraffeist Affair, there was little he could do about it.

  With that thought, he concentrated on his breakfast.

  Obreduur was pleasant but quiet on the drive to the Council Office Building, as he usually was, but he’d been so reserved the night before, reflected Dekkard, that anyone observing from a distance, except an empie, might have thought him an off-duty isolate, although most educated isolates were in some form of midlevel security, and certainly not elected officials.

  Once in the office, Dekkard began his work sorting petitions and letters, as did Ysella.

  At a sixth before the third bell of the afternoon, Director Deron arrived unaccompanied, except for the usual Council Guard. He was attired in the older and more conservative style—a silvery, dark gray, formal military-style tunic with the upright collar, the kind of tunic that did not require either a formal shirt or a cravat, above black trousers and dress black boots. His smooth black hair was the only concession to modernity, cut far longer than the cropped look required of both naval and ground forces, but to Dekkard that concession seemed out of place, almost grudging, especially given Deron’s military brush mustache.

  “Director Deron,” said Karola brightly, “let me tell the councilor that you’re here.” She looked to Dekkard. “Would you mind telling Sr. Raynaad that the director is here?”

  Dekkard nodded, then stood and walked across the office and into the staff office. “Felix, the director is here.”

  In the moments it had taken Dekkard to notify Raynaad and for the two of them to return, Obreduur had opened his office door. “Welcome, Director Deron. After hearing about the ironway … mishap, I’m glad to see you’re safely here.”

  “The ironway is quite safe, and I am here.” Deron glanced at Dekkard, not quite askance, taking in the semi-military security grays, before returning his full attention to Obreduur.

  “Sr. Dekkard has some knowledge and experience that may be useful,” said Obreduur warmly, stepping back several paces and gesturing to the chairs facing his desk.

  Dekkard followed Raynaad’s lead and moved toward the pair of chairs set somewhat farther from the desk, but closer to the slightly open window so that the two aides would have their backs to the light. They did not seat themselves until the councilor and director began to sit down.

  Obreduur smiled pleasantly, but did not speak for well over a minute. “I believe you requested this meeting.”

  “I did, Councilor, in hopes you might aid in resolving the situation I earlier wrote about.”

  “You’re referring to the difficulties you face with the Woodcrafters Guild over the use of yellow cedar?”

  “Precisely.”

  “How exactly do you think I might help … resolve these difficulties?” Obreduur’s voice remained warm and interested, with a slight suggestion of puzzlement.

  “There are certain … economic realities. Guldoran has to work within those realities. One of those realities is that our passengers expect a high level of quality in our facilities and carriages. Maintaining that quality is expensive, and passengers will only pay so much to travel the ironway. The yellow cedar is of better quality than the red and costs considerably less. The grain pattern of the red is also … seen as more common. To use a lower-quality wood at a higher price…” Deron shook his head dolefully.

  “Your concerns are most understandable.” Obreduur nodded to Raynaad. “Felix, perhaps you could address the matter in more detail.”

  Raynaad nodded and turned his head toward Deron. “Honored Director, I also understand that passengers can be most particular. Guldoran Ironway has the reputation for maintaining high standards, but people seem to be willing to pay for those standards. The prices of tickets in all classes have risen five percent every year for the past four years. The results of certain inquiries suggest that passenger traffic has increased enough that two extra cars have been added on most trains from Machtarn to Oersynt. Under these circumstances, can you tell the councilor exactly how the use of red cedar will impact the profit margin of passenger service, not just in general, but specifically?”

  Deron’s pleasant ex
pression faded slightly. “Sr. Raynaad, you must understand that I am not empowered to reveal the specifics of the finances of Guldoran Ironway, but I would not be here if the matter were inconsequential.”

  “I’m not a woodcrafter,” said Obreduur warmly and smoothly, “but if it’s a matter of décor and style, wouldn’t some other wood be equally suitable, perhaps black cherry? I understand that the presidente of Guldoran Ironway has an exquisite dining room, entirely of black cherry.”

  “Presidente Oliviero does have impeccable taste, but I fear black cherry is much more expensive than yellow cedar, if not quite so expensive as black walnut.”

  “Steffan,” said Obreduur, “how do you think the Woodcrafters Guild feels about the matter?”

  Dekkard had thought about how the guild members might have felt, but had not thought Obreduur would have asked his opinion. After a slight pause, he replied, “No one in the guild has contacted me, sir, but coming as I do from a family of artisans, I would judge that the woodworkers do not wish to hazard their health and shorten their lives by working with the yellow cedar. Presidente Oliviero isn’t required to make such a sacrifice. Why should they?”

  “That’s a fair question, don’t you think, Director?” asked Obreduur mildly.

  “No one is forcing them to work with the yellow cedar. If they do not wish to work with it, then they can go work elsewhere.” Deron shrugged. “If none of the guilders wish to work with the cedar, then we just might move carriage building to Kathaar. It’s closer to the ironworks and to the yellow cedar.”

  “There’s no Woodcrafters Guild there,” said Obreduur. “That would change with a need for woodworkers, and Guldoran would have spent hundreds of thousands of marks, if not more, to move the coach-building facility. Then, too, the ironway would still need a guild agreement.”

  “You also build the military coaches in Oersynt,” added Raynaad. “First Marshal Bernotte might not be exactly pleased with an inexperienced workforce and the delays. Quality would suffer.”

  “It might just be better to return to using black walnut for the paneling,” suggested Obreduur.

  “That’s not possible,” said Deron. “The blight has taken too great a toll on the black walnut trees, and the timber from the infected or dead trees has ghastly yellow streaks in it.”

  “You seem to have quite a problem there,” mused the councilor, his tone sympathetic. “The red cedar isn’t of high enough quality and costs more. The yellow cedar costs less and is of higher quality, but working with it poisons the woodworkers. I wonder how many woodworkers would wish to continue for long under those circumstances.”

  “Your sympathy, honored Councilor, is appreciated, but it doesn’t resolve the difficulty.” Deron’s tone was even and polite, if little more.

  “Well … the ironway could take the high road, so to speak,” said Obreduur. “You could just tell everyone that in order to maintain the historic quality of amenities and service and also to safeguard the health of the workers, the newest carriages being built by the ironway will feature cherrywood paneling, and that may entail a slight fare increase.”

  “Cherrywood? I don’t believe that was considered.”

  “It’s of high quality, if not as high as black walnut, and considerably less expensive than the black walnut previously used.” Obreduur smiled warmly. “I believe that there is a large stand of mature cherry trees not all that far from Oersynt, certainly sufficient for the ironway’s use for more years than will affect either of us or our children.”

  “Are you—”

  “Almighty, no!” replied Obreduur. “That would be verging on conflict of interest and worse. I’m not related to the owner in any way whatsoever, but I do know that the lands might be available. I could put you in touch if Guldoran Ironway is interested. It just struck me that it might offer a solution in everyone’s interest.”

  Deron cocked his head, frowning, before nodding. “It would be definitely worth exploring. It’s not the solution that the presidente was hoping you might facilitate … but…”

  “I think you’ll find this solution might be far better for everyone,” said Obreduur. “Far better, especially if you consider how much good will the ironway could reap from such a decision. I look forward to hearing what your presidente decides.” He rose from his desk.

  Dekkard and Raynaad immediately stood as well.

  Deron rose also, the momentary enigmatic smile quickly vanishing from his face. “I appreciate your willingness to hear me out and your thoughtfulness in presenting a possible alternative. One way or another, I will be in touch with you.” He inclined his head.

  Dekkard could sense that an unspoken agreement had been reached. Also realizing that his next task was more than obvious, he moved to the door, opening it for Deron.

  Director Deron turned, glancing at Felix, but not Dekkard, before he left the inner office, then the outer office, moving quickly but not hurriedly.

  “I’ll need a few words with both of you,” said Obreduur. “Please close the door.”

  Dekkard did so, then turned to see what the councilor had to say, wondering whether those words would be favorable or less so. He was relieved to see Obreduur smiling.

  “You both did well.” He paused, then turned his eyes on Raynaad. “Give the background file on the Woodcrafters Guild to Steffan so that he can read through it.” He shifted his glance back to Dekkard. “As Felix knows, nothing you hear in this office is to be discussed with anyone but those present.” He held up a hand. “No. There’s nothing that’s either unethical or illegal. I know the Landor who has those lands and would settle for a fair price, but I don’t want anyone else to find out until matters are resolved. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Obreduur smiled again. “I doubt that I had to caution you, but some things are best stated clearly. That’s all for now.”

  Raynaad led the way out of the inner office, and Dekkard gently but firmly closed the door.

  “How did the meeting go?” asked Ysella.

  “How do all meetings go?” replied Raynaad gently, but sardonically. “You’ve been in enough of them.”

  Dekkard kept his smile to himself, even as he appreciated Raynaad’s quickness in showing him the appropriate response. He added, “I still have a bit to learn.”

  “Don’t we all,” replied Ysella.

  As Dekkard settled back at his table desk, he couldn’t help but wonder why Obreduur had chosen the meeting with Guldoran Ironway to start including him in meetings. It couldn’t just be because of the Woodcrafters Guild, not when the councilor dealt with a range of guilds in his legislative work. And how does he know who has cherry orchards to sell? Even as he thought about it, the answer was obvious, simply because Obreduur wasn’t that close to that many Landors.

  Was it because Obreduur had seen enough of what Dekkard had done to include him in more? Or could it just be that Raynaad had too much work?

  Dekkard shrugged. He’d find out soon enough.

  4

  The debate and vote on an agricultural reform proposal originally scheduled for today will be postponed indefinitely, pending the Imperador’s response to the recent revelations surrounding the Kraffeist Affair. As proposed by the Landor Party, the measure would address the attempt by Sargassan grain exporters to flood Guldor with inferior low-cost swampgrass rice or emmer wheat-corn, not to mention other grains …

  The Landor floor leader stated that the proposed changes would assure that imported grains and other foodstuffs would not undercut the prevailing base prices, as reflected on the Guldoran Commodities Exchange. The legislative proposal was thought to be in response to the efforts of foreign traders to game the value-added tariff structure …

  The Commerce Party has only said that it will consider such a proposal on the merits … the Craft Party has expressed its opposition to the bill on the grounds that it amounts to establishing grain price supports for the wealthiest of Landors and would increase the cost of living
for all the working people of Guldor …

  … with the Craft Party holding twenty-three seats in the current Council, and the Landor Party with only eighteen, the question as to whether the proposed tariff reform structure will be adopted rests with the twenty-five Councilors of the Commerce Party, which has remained uncommitted on the proposal …

  If the Imperador should call for new elections, it is possible that the Craft Party might gain an additional seat or two, and hold a slight plurality of Council seats. For the Craft Party to form a government would require a significant number of Landor Councilors to defect from their current alliance with the Commerce Party …

  Gestirn, 15 Springend 1266

  5

  ON Furdi, right after Dekkard reached the office, Karola said, “The councilor is expecting visitors from Malek. Sr. Maalengad and his wife. He’s the treasurer of the Metalworkers Guild there.”

  Dekkard glanced to Ysella, who would have to determine the feelings of the couple, but she just nodded.

  Less than a sixth later by Dekkard’s watch, the corridor door opened, and a Council Guard appeared. “Visitors for the councilor.”

  A slightly graying man in a tan suit, the lower part of his trousers showing signs of dampness, stepped into the office, accompanied by a woman a good decade younger.

  Dekkard immediately stepped forward, smiling pleasantly. “Welcome. The councilor will be with you in a moment. I hope the rain didn’t inconvenience you too much … but we do get a bit more than in Malek.”

  Maalengad snorted. “A bit? It’s rained more since we got here than we get in a month.”

  Since Dekkard could see, from Karola’s movement to the door of the inner office, that Ysella had sensed the feelings of the couple and nodded to the receptionist, he turned and gestured toward Karola, who had opened the door. “The councilor is very much looking forward to seeing you.”