Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  “Thank you, Steffan.” Emrelda settled into a chair across the low table from him.

  “It was the least I could do.” He looked at the leather folder, then to Ysella.

  “I already told her about the idea.”

  “It’s not enough,” said Emrelda. “But nothing would be enough. It’s better than anything else.”

  “We’re just starting,” said Ysella, lifting her wineglass and taking a sip.

  “You’re both kind to come.” Emrelda took a swallow from her glass. “How will this … summary, broadsheet … do any good?”

  “I have no idea,” replied Dekkard. “Obreduur believes it will make a difference. So far, he’s usually been right. He’s also been trustworthy.”

  Emrelda took another swallow of the Silverhills. “I’ll read what you’ve written.”

  Dekkard leaned forward and opened the leather folder, handing the sheets across the table to Emrelda. Then he leaned back and took a swallow of Kuhrs.

  Emrelda looked at the first sheet and turned to her sister. “You didn’t do the writing, I can tell.”

  “Steffan has a much better hand.”

  “I can see that.”

  Dekkard took another swallow and waited, watching while Emrelda read.

  When she finished, she lowered the papers, but did not relinquish them. She seemed to think for several minutes before she spoke. “It’s not bad. There are a few facts that aren’t quite right, and the timing is off in places. There’s also more about Halaard that you wouldn’t know. When he started at Haasan Design, he had to work for no pay for two months until he could prove that he was a good engineer. That was the only way he could get into the field back then. He loved to tell that story, especially to any junior engineer who mentioned anything about pay.”

  “I doubt he ever told it to Markell,” said Ysella.

  “No, but Markell…” Emrelda swallowed, then continued, “Markell enjoyed telling me about it when Halaard told the story to someone.”

  “Was all that why Engaard was so successful?” asked Dekkard. “Because he hired engineers and others based on ability and not family background?”

  “That was one of the reasons. I doubt it was the only one.”

  “We should work that in somehow,” suggested Dekkard.

  Another bell passed before the three agreed on additions, deletions, and changes, at which point Ysella turned to Dekkard. “If you wouldn’t mind writing out a fair draft … then we’ll fix something to eat. It might be easier writing that on the dining room table. Just take one end, and I’ll set up places at the other end.”

  “I can do that.” Dekkard understood. Ysella didn’t want him invading Markell’s study.

  Dekkard finished the redraft a good third before Ysella and Emrelda served dinner—a cucumber and tomato salad with a red pepper and onion omelet, along with cheese skillet biscuits. At dinner, no one talked about the draft, nor about Markell. Dekkard asked about Emrelda’s duties and day, and she replied in detail, clearly glad to talk about something else.

  After the three cleaned up, Emrelda insisted on driving Dekkard and Ysella back to the house.

  Once the teal Gresynt disappeared into the dusk, Ysella turned to Dekkard. “Thank you for understanding.”

  “I just thought she didn’t want to talk about Markell. Everyone handles grief a different way. You don’t think there’s any chance Markell’s alive somewhere, do you?”

  “I’d like to think that, especially for Emrelda … but no … I don’t. And she doesn’t, either. While we were fixing dinner, she said she had an awful feeling on the Quindi night he disappeared.”

  “That was before she knew anything,” Dekkard said.

  “It was. That was why she was so upset that Findi morning.”

  “She didn’t mention that feeling before.”

  “I wondered about that.” Ysella started walking up the drive as she went on, “Emrelda doesn’t trust feelings as much as I do. She and Markell both liked facts and figures more.”

  Dekkard kept pace with her, thinking, Which was why Markell wanted to verify numbers and measurements before he said anything. Dekkard could understand that, but he also felt that sometimes waiting to act until getting absolute factual confirmation was the most reckless decision of all. “Don’t you think we should wait a day or so and then reread the draft—just in case we think of something else—before giving it to Obreduur?”

  “Two days might be better,” suggested Ysella.

  The two walked quietly the rest of the way up to the portico and then inside the quiet house. At the bottom of the stairs to the staff bedrooms above the garage, Ysella turned to Dekkard. “Thank you … again. You’ve been very supportive, especially to Emrelda. I appreciate that.”

  That’s because of you. “I’ve tried to do the best I can. I’m just following your example.”

  “That’s kind of you, but I’m not always the best example. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “In the morning.” Dekkard watched as she climbed the steps, following only after she reached the upper level.

  Much later, Dekkard sat on his bed, thinking. The Great Charter worked. At least, it had worked for longer than any other government in history. So why were the Commercers trying to change it one way and the New Meritorists the other way? While one could claim that the Commercers were motivated by greed for marks and power, there had to be more than that, didn’t there?

  Except the motivation isn’t all that different. Both wanted to force society to recognize or at least acknowledge that certain individuals mattered more than others. Amassing marks and power was the Commercers’ way of demonstrating individual worth, while making individual politicians visible and responsible was the New Meritorists’ methodology of affirming each individual’s worth.

  Everyone wants to be considered of worth. But how does the Great Charter fit into that?

  Was it that the Great Charter, as it originally operated, separated politics and governance from wealth and acclaim? Until the Commercers ousted the Landors from power and began to use government to enhance their power? Why had that happened? Because industrialization allowed for the creation of more wealth, and that surplus of wealth was far more mobile and not tied to the land?

  Dekkard rubbed his forehead. He needed to think about that more. A great deal more.

  55

  DEKKARD woke later on Unadi morning and had to hurry down to breakfast, where he found Ysella was already sipping her café. He glanced at the side table, then at her. “Is there anything interesting in Gestirn?”

  “Only that all the universities in Guldor will have to admit fewer students this year because the Council didn’t increase funding and the universities don’t have enough marks to repair the damages caused by the demonstrations unless they cut enrollment.”

  “The demonstrations were on the streets, not in the buildings.” He poured his café, then sat down across the table from her.

  “It makes a good excuse.”

  “Did the newssheets point that out? Did anyone from any university?”

  “Did the sun rise in the west this morning?” she returned sardonically.

  Dekkard offered a wry smile, then took his two croissants. He frowned as he looked at the greenish-brown slices where the quince paste usually was.

  “Yes, it’s guava paste.” She grinned. “You should like it. It’s almost as sicky-sweet as the quince.”

  “But it doesn’t have the same tanginess.” At least tomato jelly had tanginess.

  “You mean it’s actually too sweet for you?”

  “I’ll make do.” Dekkard offered a mock-mournful expression.

  “You poor fellow.”

  “I don’t notice you taking any. But then, in the morning, sweetness…” Dekkard let the words dangle.

  Ysella reached for the plain croissant, then took a single deliberate bite, after which she said, “I don’t require excessive sweetness. Unlike some people.”

  “
I don’t either,” declared Rhosali as she entered the staff room.

  Seeing as he was definitely outnumbered, Dekkard asked, “How is your uncle doing?”

  The maid smiled. “He says he has much to learn, but that it’s also no different.”

  “In what way?”

  “The Commercers in charge have rules that make no sense, and the foreman has to find ways to get things done by the rules when there are better ways.”

  “Does he like the job?” pressed Dekkard.

  “Oh, yes. The manufactory is cleaner, and the air is better. Machtarn doesn’t have the black fogs. He hardly coughs at all now.” Rhosali poured her café and sat down beside Ysella.

  “That’s good,” replied Dekkard.

  “That was why Mother came here. She could hardly breathe without coughing growing up. That’s what she said, anyway. Uncle Hermann says it wasn’t that bad, but he admits he isn’t coughing as much.” Rhosali looked at the greenish-brown paste slices and smiled. “Guava! That’s so much better than quince or tomato jelly.” She immediately took two slices.

  Ysella looked from Rhosali to Dekkard and shook her head.

  Dekkard tried not to smile.

  For the rest of breakfast, and during the drive to work, Dekkard’s thoughts kept coming back to the question he continued to ponder—just what could shake people’s confidence in the Commercers? Would anything at present?

  Once he was at his desk, he concentrated on the letters that Karola had left him. Over the time he worked on those, several messengers came and went.

  Obreduur appeared just before noon. “You can escort me to the dining room and then get yourselves something to eat. I’m lunching with Councilor Waarfel. After that, you can take me to the floor for debate on the funding bill. It will probably last until fifth bell, but I’d appreciate your returning about a sixth before that. If debate ends earlier, I’ll send a messenger.”

  Dekkard and Ysella immediately stood, Dekkard so quickly that his gladius hit his chair.

  Obreduur hadn’t met with Waarfel in some time, as Dekkard recalled. Could it be because Waarfel was from Aloor, one of the districts adjoining Siincleer? Or because Waarfel was on the Public Resources Committee, the committee that should have held hearings on the Kraffeist Affair?

  Obreduur said nothing as the three headed down the open central staircase to the main level. Once they were outside and walking along the covered walkway, Dekkard heard chants, possibly just on the other side of the south wall of the Council Square.

  “More university funds! More university funds!”

  “Reveal the votes! Open votes…”

  “Personal responsibility! Personal accountability!”

  Dekkard glanced toward the wall, but unlike before, no one had climbed it, even though the lowest part of the wall was less than two yards high, but just from the chants, he had no trouble determining who was demonstrating.

  Obreduur lengthened his stride, and Dekkard kept glancing toward the wall, but the chants grew fainter, as if the Council Guards were pushing the chanters back. Dekkard waited for shots, but while the chanting continued, he heard no shots.

  “The guards are advancing,” said Ysella, “and the demonstrators are retreating.”

  “Good,” replied Obreduur. “We don’t need any more guards shot.”

  By the time the three reached the entrance to the Council Hall, the chants were still fainter, and no shots had been fired.

  “Go get something to eat,” said Obreduur. “I’ll see you here at a sixth before first bell.”

  Once Obreduur was inside the dining room, Dekkard looked to Ysella. “Should we find out what happened with the demonstrators?”

  “They were already dispersing, and I didn’t sense that anyone was hurt. I’d rather eat.”

  Since Dekkard had never known her senses to be wrong, he just said, “Lead the way.”

  When they reached the cafeteria, Dekkard could see that plenty of tables were empty, although by a third past noon, that would change. Dekkard decided on olive, beef, and raisin empanadas with a cucumber salad, while Ysella picked a milanesia of some kind, with a green salad, and, after paying, led the way to a four-top. “We’ll see if anyone wants to join us.”

  “Are you looking for someone in particular?”

  “More like any number of people.” Ysella took a sip of café, then some of her milanesia.

  Dekkard glanced at the suddenly lengthening food line, looking for more familiar faces, catching sight of Frieda Livigne with another woman he didn’t recognize, and farther back, Councilor Saarh’s security aides, Micah Eljaan and Malcolm Maarkham.

  “Not Micah and Malcolm,” said Ysella quietly.

  Dekkard glanced back to the line, seeing Amelya Detauran and Elyssa Kaan. “What about Amelya Detauran and Elyssa?”

  “If they come our way.”

  Dekkard didn’t even have to raise a hand, because, after she paid the cashier, Detauran led Kaan straight toward Dekkard.

  “Steffan, Avraal … could we join you?”

  Ysella smiled warmly. “Of course.”

  Amelya seated herself beside Ysella, the more slender and shorter Elyssa beside Dekkard.

  “I promised Steffan I’d explain about the Kraffeist mess, almost a month ago,” said Amelya, “but we’ve never crossed paths.”

  “We were both in a hurry then,” added Dekkard.

  “You both know,” continued Amelya, her voice lower, “that the Kraffeist Affair should have involved two committees—the Public Resources Committee and the Transportation Committee. The coal overcharges by Eastern Ironway were separate from the coal leases and the misuse of the Eshbruk Naval Coal Reserve, but they both should have come before the Transportation Committee. It didn’t happen that way. It didn’t because, when the next elections are called, Maastach can’t run again, and Ulrich told him that if Councilor Bassaana brought up everything she had on Eastern Ironway, it could cause such a turmoil that the Imperador might have to call new elections. Maastach didn’t tell her anything until it was already a done deal.”

  For a moment, Dekkard didn’t connect the pieces, but only for a moment. “And your councilor’s in line to be the next chair of the Transportation Committee.” If the Commercer-Landor coalition remains in power. “And neither Ulrich nor Maastach let her know?”

  “They still won’t talk about it. They claim involving her would have been a conflict of interest because she has a large share of Jaykarh Mining & Coal.”

  “They never consider that when the councilor’s a man,” said Ysella.

  “They won’t admit that, either,” agreed Amelya. “I just thought you should know.”

  “We appreciate it,” said Dekkard warmly. “That clears up part of the mystery.” And opens other questions.

  “Did you see what happened with the demonstration a little while ago?” asked Ysella.

  “Not all that much,” replied Elyssa. “There weren’t many demonstrators. Less than fifty. They yelled and waved signs. When the Council Guards ordered them to disperse and fired a warning shot, they backed up. They kept yelling, but they broke up. Then they scattered. The Guards might have caught three or four.”

  “That won’t do much,” said Amelya in a disgusted tone. “The ones they catch and detain never know anything. The plotters behind the demonstrations stay out of sight.”

  “Those behind burning down the Ministry of Security building planned that well,” said Ysella. “Do you think Minister Wyath will ever catch them?”

  “He’s in no hurry,” said Elyssa. “With people’s attention on the demonstrations, Ulrich doesn’t have to answer for the Kraffeist Affair, or the excessive rail rates Eastern Ironway charges northeastern mining companies, or the way that all the big engineering firms drive out competitors and keep the costs of building or rebuilding anything high.”

  At the last item, Dekkard managed not to show surprise. “Isn’t that playing with fire?”

  “The demonstrators aren’t
that much of a problem,” replied Elyssa. “Besides, it’s hard to pick them out unless you catch them in the act.”

  “If there were any way, though,” added Amelya, “Ulrich would already be using it. He hates the New—I mean, the demonstrators. He likes peaceful streets and law and order.”

  “Provided the order benefits the Commercers who back him,” countered Elyssa.

  “There is that,” said Amelya quietly. “We’d better finish eating and go wait for her.”

  “We’re in the same situation,” admitted Dekkard, although he was still thinking about Amelya’s comment about Ulrich, his hatred of the New Meritorists and there being no way to identify them.

  A few minutes later, the four all left the table, but Amelya and Elyssa moved away quickly, as if worried they might be late.

  “You’ve made quite an impression on Amelya,” said Ysella, smiling.

  “I like her. She’s always struck me as a very honest and good person,” replied Dekkard. “Unlike someone like Frieda Livigne or that legalist Stoltz … or a few others.”

  “She more than likes you, I suspect.”

  “I don’t like her that much,” said Dekkard quietly.

  “Then you’re handling the situation as you should,” said Ysella.

  Dekkard heard a hint of satisfaction in those words, but decided a comment would be unwise. Most unwise.

  “There’s one thing about the demonstration. They knew what was in the legislation, even before it was presented on the floor.”

  “Of course. Gestirn wouldn’t have printed what it did otherwise,” replied Ysella.

  “There weren’t very many, and none of them shot at the Council Guards.” The fact that the New Meritorists hadn’t used weapons this time intrigued Dekkard. Did the comparatively more peaceful demonstration merely represent a change in tactics or did it reflect a new strategy? Or just a desire not to get shot?

  Once they reached the councilors’ dining room, they still had to wait almost a third before Obreduur appeared, although he smiled as he approached. “I’m sorry. It took a little longer. I wanted to see if he could tell me anything he knew about the Siincleer corporacions that wasn’t common knowledge. He knew a few things, but I suspect that, were either of you councilors, you’d have known more. Still … it was pleasant.”