Dekkard pointed to the last line he’d read. “That means something else, doesn’t it?”
Ysella smiled. “I’ve always said you were good. It does. It means she has something, but doesn’t know what it means or where it leads.”
“And she doesn’t trust anyone there enough to let them know what she’s discovered.”
Ysella nodded.
Dekkard returned to the letter.
… so unless I find out more, I’ll be driving back on Quindi, and I’ll be working the next weeks straight through, including enddays, to make it up to those who covered for me while I’ve been in Siincleer. If the timing works out, I’ll stop by on my way home. Otherwise, we can get together as we can on Findi.
The signature was simply “Emrelda.”
Dekkard handed the single sheet back to Ysella.
“Your thoughts?”
“She’s found more than she’s saying. She’s upset and doesn’t want to show it, and she’s fairly certain Markell’s dead. That’s why it’s so … unemotional.”
“That’s how I read it.”
“The conditioned Landor response?” he asked gently. “Or just the way you both handle really bad news?”
“Both, I think. Father’s never liked it when we showed emotion. He’d just say that he couldn’t talk to us when we were ‘like that.’ Mother said any emotion except quiet happiness should stay behind closed doors.” Ysella swallowed, then said, “I don’t want to talk any more about Emrelda and Markell. Not now. We’ll talk about it after we see what she’s discovered and if it fits with what Markell sent you.”
“Us. He just addressed it to me.”
“That’s because he saw immediately what you really are.” She shook her head slowly. “You’d be totally wasted if you spent the rest of your life just in security, even in a position like the one Frieda Livigne dangled in front of you.”
“I don’t know that. I do know I’d be bored out of my mind.”
“We can’t have that.” Ysella forced a smile.
Dekkard wanted to hold her, just put his arms around her. He didn’t, knowing that would be an intrusion, and instead said, “I think you need a glass of wine and some quiet time. I’ll keep you company … quietly.”
“Thank you.” Her words were low.
49
THE rain that Dekkard had predicted arrived sometime during the night and was still beating down heavily when he woke on Quindi to a dismal gray-green dawn. When he got to breakfast, Gestirn held no news about Markell or about the Council. Ysella arrived for her café and breakfast looking drawn, and the quince paste was gone, again replaced by tomato jelly. The drive to the Council Office Building was slow through the pelting rain, and even with the protection of an umbrella, Dekkard’s trousers got more than a little damp below the knees from the brief dash from the covered parking to the roofed entrance to the building. Part of the dampness was because he held the umbrella high enough to look in all directions.
The rain offered little respite from the heat, so that even the inside main corridor of the Council Office Building felt like the anteroom to a steam bath. The staff stairs weren’t any better, Dekkard reflected, as he made his way up them.
The rain was the most interesting part of a long workday. There were no committee meetings and no Council sessions, and no conferences with Obreduur … and not even any visitors, not that there were ever many. Dekkard spent the day drafting responses. While he worried about Ysella and Emrelda, there was little he could do about either, and by the time fourth bell neared he was definitely glad to leave his desk and fetch the Gresynt. The rain had finally slowed to a drizzle, which meant that it was warmer and the air was stickier, but that he didn’t get as wet.
On the drive back to the house, Obreduur said nothing. After dropping Obreduur and Ysella off under the portico, Dekkard garaged the Gresynt, but didn’t wipe it down, since it was still drizzling, and he and Ysella would be escorting the family to services at the East Quarter Trinitarian Chapel in little more than a bell.
Ysella met him as he was leaving the garage. “Emrelda was here much earlier. She left a note.” As she finished speaking, she handed Dekkard a single sheet of paper.
He read it quickly.
Avraal—
I didn’t sleep very well last night. So I got up well before dawn and started driving. I got here at a third past first bell. There was no point in waiting until fifth bell for you and Steffan.
I’ll pick you both up at third bell tomorrow morning, and then we can discuss matters.
The hurried signature was that of Emrelda.
“What now?” asked Dekkard as he returned the brief note to Ysella. “Go find Obreduur and tell him immediately?”
“Not at the moment. I was going to tell him as soon as I read this, but he had just marched Nellara into his study and closed the door. Whatever it is, I wouldn’t want to be in her shoes at this moment, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to interrupt. Not when a bell won’t make any difference. I can always tell him before he gets into the steamer for services.”
“I think you’re right.” He paused. “Do you have any idea what Nellara did?”
“No, but Ritten Obreduur usually deals with problems with their children. Very impartially, but that’s not surprising, given her background. If he’s involved…”
“Was it that way in your family?”
“Yes, thank the Three. I never wanted to end up in my father’s study.” Ysella offered a wry smile. “Mother often used that as a threat, and it was a real threat. What about you?”
“My mother took care of it all. I think she was afraid my father would be too lenient, but while he might have been, he wasn’t ever about to change or soften one of her decisions or punishments.”
“That explains a few things.” For an instant, the hint of a mischievous smile appeared. “Maybe by tomorrow morning Obreduur will have something to say. We need to tell him that Emrelda’s back, though, and she also needs to see and read Markell’s letter to you.”
“To us,” Dekkard corrected gently.
“You can be stubborn.”
“Aren’t all isolates?”
“I thought you were different,” she replied in a tone that was clearly one of mock disappointment.
“I am,” he answered cheerfully. “I’m nice about it.”
Ysella shook her head, then laughed softly. “I’ll see you later.”
For the next bell or so, Dekkard read an earlier issue of History that he’d somehow missed. He finished reading with enough time to have the Gresynt under the shelter of the portico a sixth before sixth bell. Moments after he pulled up, Obreduur and his wife, as well as Gustoff and Nellara and Ysella, appeared. Nellara was noticeably subdued.
When Ysella slipped into the front seat beside him, she nodded and murmured, “He wants to talk when we get back, before dinner.”
Dekkard eased the Gresynt down the drive and out onto Altarama, heading east. Eight blocks and one turn later, he pulled up under the covered entry to the East Quarter Trinitarian Chapel. During the entire time, neither Gustoff nor Nellara said a word, a silence almost unprecedented in all the times Dekkard had ferried the family to services. He wondered what she’d done that had so displeased Obreduur, but doubted he’d ever know … and he certainly wasn’t going to ask.
After dropping everyone off, he parked the steamer and then hurried into the chapel, where he managed to get to his seat at the end of the Obreduur family pew as the opening hymn began. The best that he could have said about the service was that it was relatively brief and that Presider Eschbach did not deal with yet another aspect of trust, but had moved on to the basics of belief, dwelling primarily upon the sin of believing in order to gain material success.
At the beginning of the recessional, Dekkard slipped out of the pew to retrieve the Gresynt and subsequently Ysella and the family. Nellara remained stone-silent on the drive back to the house, while Obreduur and Ingrella conversed quietly in
the rear seat, and Gustoff looked in every direction but that of his sister.
After letting everyone off under the portico, Dekkard garaged the Gresynt, then did his cleanup and maintenance chores before closing up. When he came out of the garage, Ysella immediately appeared.
“He wants to see us now.”
Dekkard followed her to Obreduur’s study, then closed the door in response to the councilor’s gesture for him to do so.
“I’m sorry for the delay, sir, but I had to finish with the steamers.”
“That’s scarcely a problem, Steffan. That’s another thing I admire about both you and Avraal. Even when you’re given more challenging and interesting work, you don’t neglect the necessary routine tasks. That’s a rare trait, especially these days. Now…” He paused for a moment before going on. “About your sister’s missing husband … While we were at services, a messenger dropped off a message and a package from Carlos Baartol. I don’t think you’ll be surprised. The paper used for the unidentified plans is identical to that used by Siincleer Engineering. No other engineering firm uses it, and each engineering firm has its own plan-drafting paper, something that they agreed on years ago so that they could find out if engineers were stealing plans from other firms.” Obreduur smiled sardonically. “Or perhaps so they’d know from whom plans were stolen.”
“They could claim that the paper was stolen,” said Ysella. “Or that the construction manager was trying to shift the blame elsewhere.”
“They could, but it’s a weak defense, especially if your sister has discovered something else.”
“She hinted that she had, but we have no idea what.”
“Then the four of us should meet as soon as your sister arrives tomorrow morning. That should work out since Ingrella and I had not planned to go out until tomorrow afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.” Dekkard saw no need to say more.
Ysella merely nodded.
“Have as pleasant an evening as you can.”
Dekkard inclined his head, then turned and opened the study door, letting Ysella leave first. Neither spoke until they were alone in the staff room.
“One of the Siincleer corporacions was behind it all,” said Dekkard, “but there won’t be enough to prove who did it … and in the end business will go on as usual. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Unless Obreduur and the others … and the three of us … can find enough examples tied to the Commerce Party.”
“The newssheets won’t print it, and unless they do, no one will believe it. Most people won’t even if Gestirn and the other newssheets do print stories.”
“Not if we can convince people that they’re lying.”
Ysella laughed bitterly. “How will we do that?”
“I don’t know … but we need to find a way.” At the sound of Rhosali’s footsteps, Dekkard halted and turned.
So did Ysella.
Rhosali hurried into the staff room and threw her arms around Ysella. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
“For—” Ysella broke off. “Did your uncle get a job?”
Rhosali smiled broadly. “He did. Sr. Baartol found him a foreman’s position at a small machine-tool manufactory. Well … an assistant foreman’s position, but he will be a foreman in a year if he does well. He’s already on the payroll, and he starts on Unadi.”
“Is he pleased with it?” asked Dekkard.
“He is. He won’t make quite as much for a while, but it’s so much better than anything he could find.”
Dekkard nodded. He had a feeling that Rhosali’s uncle had just become another part of Baartol’s information network. Just out of gratitude. He smiled slightly. Are you any different?
Rhosali looked back to Ysella. “You two were busy, but I wanted to tell you. Thank you.” Then she turned and headed into the kitchen to help Hyelda.
“That’s good, anyway,” said Dekkard.
Ysella nodded.
Dekkard wished that he could say the same about Markell and poor Emrelda. Instead, he said, “Did you know that the structure of Argenti society actually came from early Jaykarh? I was just reading that in one of the issues of History.” He smiled at her puzzled expression. “I was just trying to distract you until dinner’s ready.”
She shook her head ruefully, then said, “I appreciate the effort. Since I’ll worry if I’m not distracted, why don’t you tell me how Jaykarh shaped Argenti culture?”
“I thought you’d never ask.”
50
AFTER dinner on Quindi, Dekkard spent almost a bell writing to his parents, a missive that mentioned his promotion, but none of the more exciting events in his life, except that Machtarn had also seen demonstrations at the Council and at Imperial University. He also told them that he’d be coming to Oersynt in Summerend as a security aide. He thought about reading when he finished the letter, but decided he was too sleepy and went to bed.
When he woke on Findi the sun was already up, and the day promised to be clear, hot, and muggy. Knowing that Emrelda would be at the house by third bell, he immediately got up, washed, shaved, and dressed, then headed downstairs. He checked the morning edition of Gestirn. In the only news of the Council, the Premier assured the Imperador that the supplemental funding would be available before Summerend recess. There was nothing about demonstrators, missing engineers, or Siincleer corporacions.
Dekkard poured his café and sat down, hoping Ysella had gotten a decent night’s sleep. He took several sips before reaching for the croissants and, reluctantly, the tomato jelly. He had just spooned some of the jelly into his split croissant when Ysella arrived, wearing a rose blouse, and a skirt of a darker rose. Dekkard had no doubt that a suit jacket left in her room matched the mid-calf skirt.
“I hope you got some sleep.”
“More than on Furdi night.” She took a slow sip of café. “You look good in that green barong, but then you look good in everything.”
“I have to, if I’m with you.” He smiled warmly.
“Emrelda would laugh at that.”
“Why? Because she remembers when you were rebellious and wore mismatched clothing on purpose?”
Ysella’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”
Dekkard laughed gently. “No one. It was a guess. Anyone as stylish as you rebelled in one way or another. I just thought that would be your way.”
“Steffan … if I find out that Emrelda told you…” Her voice was somewhere between amused and menacing.
“You can ask her. You might also think about eating. It could be a long morning.”
Ysella slowly reached for a croissant.
“How about some tomato jelly?” asked Dekkard.
“That’s even worse than quince paste.”
“I think so, too.”
“Then why do you eat it?”
Dekkard shrugged. “It’s better than no paste or jelly.”
Ysella looked at the tomato jelly, then at Dekkard and, without a word, took a healthy bite out of the croissant.
Dekkard took an enormous bite out of his tomato-jelly-filled croissant, chewed and swallowed it, and then smiled broadly. “Not bad.”
Ysella shook her head slowly, but Dekkard thought he saw a hint of amusement in her eyes. As he took a second and far more modest bite of the croissant, he hoped so.
Well before third bell, Dekkard and Ysella were standing in the shade of the portico, looking out at Altarama Drive and waiting. Dekkard had already opened the gates.
As soon as he saw the teal Gresynt, Dekkard hurried down to the gates and motioned for Emrelda to drive in. Instead of coming up the drive, she stopped short of the gates. Dekkard gestured again for her to drive to the portico, then turned and walked alongside the Gresynt as she slowly drove up and into the shade of the portico.
Emrelda got out of the steamer. “I thought we were going to my house.”
“There’s something you need to see first, and Councilor Obreduur wants to meet with the three of us,” sa
id Ysella.
Dekkard looked at Ysella. “I believe you had a question for your sister.”
For an instant, the younger sister looked surprised. Then she shook her head and asked, “Did you EVER tell Steffan about how I dressed?”
Emrelda looked totally puzzled. “Why would I? You always dress so well.”
“When we were younger, I meant.”
“For the Three’s sake, no. Outside of that afternoon at our house, I’ve never said a word to him about…” Then she laughed. “You mean about how you deliberately mismatched—”
“Did … you … tell … him … that?”
“No. I haven’t thought about that in years.”
Ysella turned to Dekkard. “You are scary, sometimes.” Then she turned to Emrelda. “He guessed that—right out of the green sky.”
“Right out of the green?”
“Not exactly,” protested Dekkard. “She’s always so matched and stylish that I just guessed that any rebellion would be within the rules, just to make it hard on everyone.”
Emrelda nodded, then asked, “What is it that I need to see, and why does the councilor need to talk to me?”
“You’ll see,” said Dekkard. “He’s waiting in his study.”
“Have you found out anything about Markell?” demanded Emrelda.
“Nothing recent, unless it’s something the councilor knows and hasn’t told us,” replied Dekkard, knowing that his words, while technically correct, were misleading, but he didn’t want to say more until they were in the study.
“You’re not telling me something,” said Emrelda, almost angrily.
“That’s right. Rather, there’s something you need to see, and, no, it’s not any personal item of Markell’s.” Dekkard gestured toward the portico entry door. “This way.”
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