“Unlike some of the times before,” said Maalengad as he strode past Dekkard, leaving his wife to trail behind him.
As soon as Maalengad entered the inner office, Obreduur said heartily, “Fritz, it’s good to see you. For your sake, I’d have wished a better day…”
After Karola shut the door, Dekkard turned to Ysella and said quietly, “There must have been some guild … disagreements.”
“Is there any guild that doesn’t have disagreements with someone? Including other guilds?”
Dekkard nodded.
But by early midmorning, long after Maalengad and his wife had departed, Dekkard had read through the background file on the Woodcrafters’ complaint against Guldoran Ironway. The complaint was simple—the ironway had knowingly required the use of materials hazardous to the health of its employees and had made no effort to remedy the situation, thereby violating the legal requirement for a reasonably safe workplace.
The problem, as Macri had noted in a legal memorandum to Obreduur, was that the definition of a “reasonably safe workplace” had heretofore been applied to equipment, lighting, and ventilation, and not to hazards that did not apply equally to all workers … and not all workers reacted unfavorably to working with yellow cedar planks, although the finished wood was perfectly safe. The guild had countered by claiming that the hazard did apply to all workers, but that the time for adverse effects to appear varied with the worker, and stated that unless Guldoran changed the wood used for paneling, the guild would withdraw all artisans a month after notice.
The larger problem, Macri had also noted, was the precedent that might be created if the complaint came before the Justiciary. If the High Court ruled in favor of the guild, such a judgment could greatly expand the definition of “workplace hazards.” Yet a judgment in favor of Guldoran Ironway might send a signal to various industries that workplace hazards were limited to those recognized at the time the standard was drafted and that they could subject workers to newly discovered hazards with impunity.
Dekkard could see that the second possible judgment would definitely create a great deal of unrest among the guilds. At worst, it might lead to another general work stoppage, if not on the scale of the Black Autumn riots of 1249 or the Uldwyrk Massacre. After returning the file to Raynaad, he settled back at his table desk.
By fourth bell of the morning, he had finally sorted out his share of the latest petitions and letters and could get started on drafting replies.
At that point, Karola stepped out of Obreduur’s office and gestured first to Ysella and then to Dekkard. “That messenger who left a little while ago … the councilor has a meeting at the Machtarn Guildhall at half past first bell.”
Dekkard had noted the messenger, but there were more than a score of messengers coming and going during the course of the day, and Karola could summon one by dropping the bronze indicator outside the main door, an indicator resembling a bronze flag. “We’ll be ready at a third before the bell, then.”
Dekkard left the office at a third after the six bells of noon in order to have time to heat the steamer’s boiler—even flash boilers took a few minutes to be fully responsive—then drove the Gresynt around to the west entry to the Council Office Building. He pulled up a few minutes early, but was glad he did because he saw Ysella and Obreduur walking out toward the steamer.
The councilor said nothing until Dekkard turned the Gresynt south on Imperial Boulevard. “The Sanitation guildmeister requested the meeting. You two will be in the room as well.” Then Obreduur began to read what was likely a briefing paper prepared by Macri, Roostof, or Raynaad.
Dekkard understood. They were security, nothing more. “Yes, sir.”
Ysella, sitting up front beside Dekkard, smiled wryly.
Not for the first time, Dekkard was glad he wasn’t an empie who had to sense every feeling in a room, although he knew that she could block feelings—just not selectively. All or nothing.
While he had been previously to the Machtarn Guildhall, which not only served all the guilds in the Machtarn district, but also held the Guldoran Guilds’ Advisory Committee, there were a number of guildmeisters or assistants he had not encountered, the Sanitation guildmeister being one. In a way, Dekkard looked forward to those meetings because he felt, even as a security type, he learned something from each.
As he drove, his eyes never stopped moving, checking the mirrors, the intersections and cross streets, not just for careless drivers or possible accidents, but for vehicles that seemed out of place … or too “in place.”
About three blocks before the boulevard ended at the harbor rotary, Dekkard turned right, on the Avenue of the Guilds, toward the river, the Rio Azulete. He drove for another five blocks before pulling into the covered parking and a space labeled OFFICIAL BUSINESS.
Ysella was out of the steamer first and was scanning the parking area when Dekkard opened the rear door for the councilor.
“There’s no one near, except the guard at the hall door,” she reported.
Dekkard’s fingers brushed the grip of the black truncheon and then the hilt of the gladius as the two of them led Obreduur toward the side entrance.
“Councilor Obreduur for a meeting with the Sanitation guildmeister,” Dekkard announced as they reached the guard, standing in what resembled a military sentry box.
The guard studied the three, then looked at a sheet posted on the wall. “He’s in 212. First set of stairs, up one flight, third door down.”
Dekkard led the way. While people were traversing the long hallway that extended from one side of the Guildhall to the other, none were close to them, and no one even gave the three a second glance.
The hallway on the second floor was quieter, and 212 turned out to be a small conference room. A sandy-haired man with a weathered but clean-shaven face stood from where he’d been seated at one side of a small circular conference table. He wore a worn dark brown jacket and trousers over a pale green shirt. A single burly younger man in faded brown coveralls and shirt stood against the dark-paneled wall behind and to one side of the guildmeister.
As he closed the door, Dekkard saw that the bodyguard carried a brace of throwing knives, similar to those Dekkard often carried, and a brown wooden truncheon.
“Welcome, Councilor. I’m glad to see you again,” declared the guildmeister in a voice slightly rough but not gravelly, gesturing toward the table as if to offer a seat.
“It’s always good to see you, Konrad,” replied Obreduur, seating himself, and then grinned as he added humorously, “even if it’s usually over some difficulty.”
Dekkard and Ysella moved to stand against the wall behind Obreduur.
“Isn’t that why we both have our positions?” replied Konrad. “If people didn’t have problems, they wouldn’t need us.”
Obreduur laughed softly. “Some of them would say we caused those problems.” After a pause, he went on. “Your letter was rather vague, suggesting some difficulties with Health Minister Sanoffre.”
“I never put it in writing, unless necessary. The legalists can twist any written word.”
“What might be those difficulties?”
“The Minister of Health says Machtarn Sanitation can’t pay Guldorans more than beetles.”
For an instant, Dekkard thought he’d misheard, but then realized he was talking about refugees from Atacama, because they scuttled through the desert like beetles before crossing the Rio Doro to get into Guldor.
Obreduur nodded sagely. “They have quite a few refugees in Port Reale. Are there that many here in Machtarn?”
“More every year. Who wouldn’t leave there with their Presidente Supremo? It’s not that the guys don’t like the beetles. They work hard, but it’s getting so all my shovel crews are beetles, and I need more Guldorans, because too many of the beetles never saw a steam lorry. They certainly never saw a steamloader. Most of them only talk pidgin Guld. The department chief says he can’t pay Guldorans more, but they won’t take a starting job
at the current pay. If they don’t start on the shovel crews, then they really don’t understand, and they screw up pickups with the shovel crews if they don’t spend at least a few months there. Also, if they start on the lorries, with the higher pay … well, that doesn’t set well with the older fellows. The deputy assistant health director for the Machtarn district says the starting pay’s got to be the same. Says he won’t change the laws because I’ve got problems. District councilors agree.”
Dekkard almost nodded at that. District councils were effectively local government, but they were designed to force compromises, and couldn’t override the laws. Every district council had six members, two appointed by each political party, each serving a single staggered six-year term, with the chair of the council shifting in rotation every two years to a councilor of another party. District councilors had to be older than fifty, unlike the councilors of the Sixty-Six, who only had to be over the voting age of twenty, although Dekkard doubted that there were more than a handful under thirty, if that.
“Why isn’t the city sanitation department taking a stand?”
“They don’t care much about our problems, but if the trash and waste don’t get handled well, the city blames the guild, and we get fined. Maybe even cited for workplace misfeasance.”
“Has that ever happened?”
“Not in Machtarn. Osterreich, he was the guildmeister in Ondeliew, he was slammed with a five-thousand-mark judgment and six months in gaol.”
“Wasn’t that for peculation of guild funds?” asked Obreduur.
Konrad shook his head. “The Justiciary prosecutor couldn’t prove that. So he trumped up the workplace misfeasance charge. That’s what the Commercers always do.”
“Who sets the standards for your workers?” asked Obreduur.
“The guild, of course.” Konrad’s tone was cool.
“And who sets the standards for each pay grade?”
“The guild, but for government jobs, the government has to approve.”
“Could you propose standards and tests for the lorry jobs that any Guldoran and the best, but only the best, beetles could pass?”
“I suppose. We do some of that now. We could add a written test. What would that do about getting me Guldorans to handle shovels first?”
“Give new hires the test first. If they pass, then tell them they’ll be promoted to lorry duty after a probationary period that’s long enough so that the more experienced workers won’t complain too much. If men know they’ll get paid more, for certain, after a time, that’s almost as good as more marks in their wallet.” Obreduur shrugged. “You could work out the details better.”
“I’d still need government approval for changing the work standards.”
“You put together a package with the changes and send it to me. Then we’ll see what we can do to persuade Minister Sanoffre. If he agrees, the city will have to accept the new standards.”
“That still might not solve the problem,” replied Konrad.
“If the only Guldorans you can get are those who don’t want to start at the bottom, even with a near guarantee of promotion, then you’re better off with beetles,” said Obreduur with a sadly resigned tone of voice.
“Frigging world we live in. Used to be that men were grateful for an honest job.”
“Some still are.”
“Not enough. Too many young fellows don’t want to get their hands dirty. Think that going to a university will make them well-paid Commerce types.” Konrad shook his head. “I do appreciate your help. I’ll have the standards and a test to you in the next few days. Might be a week.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Obreduur smiled and stood.
Immediately, Ysella moved to the door and eased it slightly it open, then, after a moment, stepped into the hallway. Dekkard followed Obreduur and shut the door before moving slightly ahead of the councilor.
When Dekkard eased the Gresynt out of the parking area and back onto the Avenue of the Guilds, he noticed a small gray automobile, a Realto, waiting at the curb with two men inside. The Realto did not move into traffic until a large maroon Kharlan sedan passed, then did so, although there had been more than enough of a break in traffic for the Realto to pull out earlier.
Dekkard kept checking the mirrors, but it seemed as though the Realto had dropped back, except that when he turned onto Imperial Boulevard, he saw the Realto had been close behind the Kharlan, shielded by the larger auto. Both the Kharlan and the Realto turned north on the boulevard.
“You’re checking the mirrors more than usual,” murmured Ysella.
“There’s a gray Realto … might be following us.”
“Security likes gray Realtos.”
Dekkard frowned. Why would Security be following a Craft councilor? Still … he cleared his throat.
“Not yet…” murmured Ysella. “See if they follow as far as Council Avenue.”
Dekkard nodded. There was no sense in unnecessarily alarming Obreduur.
When he turned onto Council Avenue, Ysella turned and looked back, even as Dekkard scanned the rearview mirrors again. They exchanged quick glances, and Ysella nodded.
Dekkard cleared his throat again. “Councilor … it might be nothing, but there was a gray Realto with two men in it waiting outside the Guildhall. The driver let a big Kharlan get in front of him and then followed us as far as Council Avenue.”
“Thank you. It might be nothing, but these days there’s little that would surprise me. Please let me know if you notice anything else like that.” The councilor went on, “Avraal, I take it that whoever was in the Realto was far enough back that you couldn’t sense anything.”
“Yes, sir.”
Obreduur did not reply, except with a nod.
When Dekkard stopped at the west entrance to the Council Office Building, Obreduur said, “The work standards for the Sanitation Guild are something you two should put together for Macri’s review. Once you receive the information from Guildmeister Hadenaur, of course.”
By the time Dekkard had parked and shut down the Gresynt and returned to the office, it was almost third bell. He stopped by Ysella’s desk and asked quietly, “What do you think our new assignment means?”
She raised her eyebrows. “What do you think?”
“That Macri and Raynaad already have too much to do.” He paused. “Maybe that he wants to see what we can do. Do you have another thought?”
“Both are likely. You’ve worked for him long enough to know that.”
Dekkard had. For all of his pleasantness and warm voice, Obreduur was quite capable of not revealing what he didn’t want others to know, even to an empie as talented as Ysella. He had another question. “Why would the Security Ministry have a steamer watching the Guildhall?”
“Security has never been fond of the Guldoran Guilds’ Advisory Committee.”
“An advisory committee?”
“That’s a misnomer, Steffan. The five advisors are all very competent former guildmeisters who effectively control the political activities of all the guilds. They also have a strong staff of legalists and even an economist or two so that, if district guilds have problems with corporacions, they can supply expertise and legal advice that the local guilds couldn’t otherwise afford. And they stay in touch with Craft councilors.”
For a moment, Dekkard wondered why he didn’t know that. He’d heard of the committee, and he knew Obreduur had once been a guildmeister, but there was no reason why anyone would have told him about the Advisory Committee, given that he was a security aide, and his parents’ guild had never needed that kind of assistance. “I’d better get back to work.”
“That makes two of us.”
Just before fourth bell, Dekkard, having made a dent in his response drafts, took the drafts into the staff office and placed them in the wooden box on the corner of Margrit’s desk.
She looked up from the typewriter. “You took your time.”
“The councilor had us occupied.”
S
he smiled, an expression with a hint of mischief. “I like it when you get that very serious demeanor, Steffan.”
Dekkard just shook his head, then smiled back and said, “And I like it when you remind me that I can get too serious. I’ll have more for you tomorrow.”
“We’re not going anywhere. Not until after fourth bell tomorrow.”
“Are you going anywhere on Findi?”
The junior clerk-typist shook her head. “I’ll just enjoy the offday and come back to tease you on Unadi.”
With a smile, Dekkard turned and headed back to his own desk. He spent the last twelve minutes of the day organizing the remaining responses so that he could work on them first thing on Quindi, then looked at Karola.
“A sixth after, as usual,” she replied.
“Then I’ll have the steamer waiting.” Dekkard rose and left the office, taking the staff staircase to the main level and walking out toward the garage. He’d almost reached the Gresynt when someone called out, “Steffan!”
Dekkard turned to see that the other figure in security grays was Jaime Minz, the isolate for Councilor Ulrich and a grizzly of a man, if an incredibly cheerful one, who always had a smile on his face, unlike the incorrect image most had of isolates as stone-faced or unemotional. “Jaime … haven’t seen you in a while.”
“Since the Council’s in pro forma session, the councilor did an inspection trip to the naval base at Siincleer. He wanted a better look at the Resolute.”
Dekkard had to think for an instant. “Oh … the new dreadnought? What was he inspecting for?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. There’s been talk about the quality of coal.” Minz shrugged. “Also about the reliability of the new ship-to-ship heliograph systems … you know, the gaslit night heliographs?”
“There were rumors about them my last year at the Institute.”
“What can you tell me about the tiff between the Woodcrafters Guild and Guldoran Ironway?”
“Workplace conditions. The councilor’s trying to persuade both sides to get together.”
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