Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  He balanced the knife on the edge of his index finger. “You need to find the balance point on a knife first, because that determines your grip…”

  From there he went over the basics before showing each of them the basic overhand throwing grip and release. “You’ll start with that, Nellara, but you’ll need to learn a sidearm grip and release as well. Or maybe an underhand cast.”

  Nellara offered a puzzled expression.

  “Not all women’s clothes are free enough to let you throw overhand.”

  Ysella nodded at that.

  From there, Dekkard helped each to determine the position of the knife in their hand and the placement of their index finger. Then he demonstrated, with the knife not quite in the center of the target. A little sloppy, there.

  Then, one at a time, each took a turn. Not surprisingly, not a single knife stuck.

  Almost a bell later, Dekkard said, “That’s enough for today. You’ve all got the idea.” That was true, since, by then, each of the three had had a few semi-successful throws.

  Nellara and Gustoff left immediately, Gustoff saying, “… a lot harder than he makes it look…”

  “It is very much harder than you make it look,” added Ysella.

  “I had to practice more than most in security training. I suspect I still do.”

  “You were irked that one of your throws wasn’t perfect, weren’t you?”

  “I was. Anything less than perfect aim could be disaster.” He took a deep breath. “I need to put everything away.”

  “Then I’ll see you in a few minutes … but thank you. I’m going to like this … very much.”

  “I hope so. I wouldn’t want you to detest it.”

  She smiled, then turned.

  Dekkard sharpened and cleaned the knives, then boxed them and replaced the target in the corner before garaging the steamer.

  Just as Dekkard left the garage, Ingrella appeared. “Steffan…?”

  “Yes, Ritten?” he replied, warily.

  She smiled. “I’m not displeased. Axel is a little startled, but I think working on perfecting her knife-throwing skill will be excellent for Nellara. I only ask one thing—that when the novelty wears off, you require her to continue until she is at least competent with a throwing knife. If she complains, just tell her that her parents agree with you.”

  “I’ll also tell her it’s a skill that’s as dangerous to the thrower until it’s mastered. Not in practice, of course, but elsewhere.”

  “Like many skills,” returned Ingrella. “And thank you.” She turned and headed in the direction of the study.

  After a moment, Dekkard walked back to the rear porch to recover The Scarlet Daughter and possibly to sit down for a few moments.

  Ysella looked up from where she sat. “Thank you. I did enjoy that. You’re going to continue, I hope?”

  Dekkard grinned. “I don’t have any choice. First, after everything that’s happened, I can’t afford to get the slightest bit rusty. And second…”

  “And second?”

  “Ingrella met me and told me to work with Nellara until she was competent, no matter what. It was a gentle command to require her to finish what she started.”

  “It also won’t hurt for her to be able to defend herself.”

  “That’s going to take a while.” And it may not be easy on either of us. “How did she feel afterward?”

  “A bit pleased, a bit disappointed, and definitely a little frustrated. She needs someone besides her parents or instructors requiring accomplishment.”

  “And I’m the fortunate one.”

  “It was your idea,” Ysella replied with a smile that was definitely mischievous. “We’d better get ready to leave for the family get-together.”

  Dekkard picked up The Scarlet Daughter. “I’ll have to see if any of Ingrella’s histories cover this period.”

  “I’d be surprised if at least one didn’t.”

  Dekkard wasn’t about to contest that. He smiled as he headed for his temporary quarters.

  Just before fourth bell of the afternoon, after asking Ingrella for directions to her cousin’s house, he eased the older Gresynt out of the garage and turned it so that it was ready to leave.

  Ysella immediately joined him, wearing her blue linen suit.

  Dekkard looked down at his rich blue barong and then at her. “Why am I not surprised?” Then he grinned.

  She shook her head.

  The next to arrive and enter the blue Gresynt were Nellara and Gustoff.

  “Sir,” said Nellara as soon as she seated herself in one of the middle row of seats, “when can we practice with the knives again?”

  “Tomorrow,” replied Dekkard. “You’ll need to work on them almost every day, even when we get back to Machtarn. A few weeks here won’t be enough. It takes time and practice to be good … and to stay good.”

  “He practices almost every night,” added Ysella.

  As soon as Axel and Ingrella Obreduur were seated, Dekkard eased the steamer away from the summer house. Tybor’s house was a short drive, about six blocks, but slightly uphill. The house itself was the same size and looked similar to the Obreduur dwelling on Jasmine Street, but was obviously newer, with darker slate shingles and a “crisper” feel, but the front lawn was still meshgrass. Dekkard parked in the drive, at Ingrella’s urging, although he was blocking a green Realto right in front of the single garage door.

  No sooner was the Gresynt parked and everyone out of it than a short and wiry graying man in a black barong and gray trousers appeared on the front porch. “Everyone’s in back. Just come in and go to the rear veranda.”

  “That’s Tybor,” Ingrella said quietly. “Tybor and Auralya only have one child. That’s Nancya. She’s about Gustoff’s age.”

  “Thank you,” replied Dekkard as he and Ysella followed the Obreduurs to the steps to the porch and into the house.

  70

  THE dinner at Tybor and Auralya’s house on Tridi evening was indeed low-key, featuring empanadas and three different salads, lubricated with ample beakers of Riverfall and glasses of Northcoast wine. About all Dekkard learned was that Tybor was a legalist specializing in property law, and that Auralya taught mathematics and basic science at the Malek School for Girls, from which Nancya would graduate at the end of the coming school year.

  On Furdi morning, Dekkard slept later, as did everyone, and woke to the smell of baking. When he washed, shaved, and dressed, and made his way down to the breakfast room, both Obreduurs were there, but no one else.

  “Any chair,” said Ingrella. “Elgara will have eggs Malek ready in a few moments.”

  “Thank you.” Dekkard poured a mug of café and sat across the table from the two.

  “Did you sleep well?” asked Ingrella.

  “Better than in a quite a while,” Dekkard replied. “How about the two of you?”

  “Much better,” admitted Obreduur. “Since we’re definitely not going anywhere today, what do you have in mind for the day?”

  “I’ve been reading the novel I borrowed from your library in Machtarn—The Scarlet Daughter—and it’s raised some questions in my mind about the early history of the Imperium. Avraal said you had a shelf of histories…”

  The councilor smiled broadly but said nothing.

  “I know just the one for you. I’ll show you after breakfast … and here comes Elgara with the eggs.” Ingrella paused until the cook entered the breakfast room, then said, “Elgara, this is Steffan. He’s one of the councilor’s aides.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Elgara.”

  “Pleased to meet you, sir.” After setting the platter on the table, she turned to Ingrella and asked, “How long might it be before the dream children appear?”

  “Very shortly,” said Obreduur, “one way or another.”

  “Then I’ll start the next batch.” With that, the cook returned to the kitchen.

  Dekkard waited for the Obreduurs to serve themselves, then took two of the eggs Male
k, which turned out to be a cooked egg enclosed by a thin sweet cinnamon pastry crust glazed with honey. Tasty as the two eggs were, he couldn’t help but wonder how the cook had managed it without overcooking the egg or undercooking the crust. That wonder didn’t stop him from enjoying them.

  Just as he finished the last of his eggs, Ysella appeared, wearing what appeared to be old security-uniform trousers and a plain white shirt, as casual as Dekkard had ever seen her, except in a robe leaving the bathroom, but she made that simple outfit look stylish. In fact, he thought, she even looked stylish in a bathrobe.

  “I’m sorry I’m a little late.” She sat down beside Dekkard.

  “The eggs are still warm,” said Ingrella. “Please help yourself.”

  Ysella only took one, then looked at Dekkard. “Why don’t you take the last one?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m very sure.”

  Dekkard looked to the Obreduurs. Both shook their heads. So Dekkard enjoyed the last egg on the platter.

  After breakfast, Ingrella and Dekkard went into the study, where she handed him a modest-looking leather-bound tome. “It’s not the most comprehensive, and it’s over fifty years old, but it’s by far the best. It has all the important names as well as an excellent description of how the first Councils and the Imperador worked matters out. It also has fairly complete, if concise, biographies of the first few generations of Imperial families, those family members who were important for some reason or another.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And, Steffan, please be careful with it. There are very few copies of it available.”

  “I will, Ritten.”

  Pondering over why Ingrella would insist on his reading a particularly rare history and why there were so few copies available, Dekkard made his way to the rear porch and settled into the old wicker chair, where he opened the small tome to the frontispiece, which proclaimed:

  EMPIRE OF GOLD:

  THE FIRST IMPERADORS

  The date at the bottom of the page was Fallfirst 1207.

  He turned to the first page of text and began. He read some twenty pages before pausing. He had to admit that the writer presented the summary of the unification of the five kingdoms far more succinctly and clearly than any previous texts he could recall. He was about to resume reading when Ysella appeared, again with the lapdesk. “More letters?”

  “I really do owe one to Mother and Cliven. After I finish, do you think we could borrow the Gresynt and post it?”

  “We can ask. I doubt it will be a problem.”

  “I see you found a history.”

  “Ingrella suggested it.”

  “Then it’s one of the best.” She looked at the tome. “I don’t think I read that one.”

  “It’s about the early Imperadors. But I’m still on Laureous the Great. I wanted to find out how much of the novel might be remotely real or at least realistic.”

  Ysella smiled. “Let me know what you find out.” With that she settled into the other chair, adjusted the lapdesk and paper, and then took her fountain pen and began to write.

  Dekkard returned his attention to the history.

  He read for another two-thirds of a bell before he reached a section entitled “The Forgotten Son,” which, as he read it, turned out to be about the illegitimate son of Laureous. As he suspected after the four short paragraphs that summarized the man’s comparatively short and obscure life, which did, in fact, end in the same mysterious sailing “accident” as in the novel, the writer of the novel had done a great deal of embellishment on the facts, except for the ending.

  Several pages later, he came across what he’d been looking for—“The Scarlet Daughter.”

  This time, however, as he read, he got the immediate feeling that the novelist had understated just how “scarlet” Delehya, the Imperador’s youngest daughter, had been, since at the age of fifteen, she’d seduced the Admiral of the Fleet, then forged a warrant from the Treasury for ten thousand marks in order to set up a small banque in Enke, to which an assistant minister of finance, in response to her considerable charms, also diverted an unknown amount of funds. Just before those schemes were discovered, Delehya seduced and subsequently married the then Landor premier Iustaan Detruro, who had been recently widowed. Detruro immediately pushed through legislation to formalize the Banque of Enke as a regional banque. When this was revealed, Laureous, infirm as he had become, dissolved the Council and called for new elections. The new premier worked out a compromise between Laureous and the Council, using Delehya’s behavior as a wedge, with the threat of revealing the full extent of her embezzlements and the threat of even further revelations about the Imperial family, to further limit the powers of the Imperador and lay out the Great Charter in close to its current form.

  The next words caused Dekkard’s mouth to drop open. He read them twice.

  … ironically enough, the Landor premier of the Sixty-Six who put an end to the “Scarlet Daughter Scandal,” as it later became known, was Dominic Mikail Ysella, the grandson of the last ruler of Aloor before it was conquered by Laureous …

  No wonder this history is rare … and also why Ingrella wanted you to read it. Dekkard looked to Ysella. “You need to read this.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  Ysella capped her fountain pen, then took the history tome from Dekkard.

  He pointed. “Starting right here.” He watched as she read and as her eyes widened.

  Then she lowered the book so that it rested on the lapdesk. She looked straight at Dekkard. “I never knew this. Father said we had a long and distinguished lineage and that his father had said we were related to one of the old rulers before Laureous the Great. He also said that one of his forebears had been involved in a rather shady political issue that was best left unmentioned, but he wouldn’t say more. I’ve never seen this.”

  “Ingrella was quietly insistent that I read this particular history, and she asked me to be careful with it because it was rare. It was published in 1207.”

  “Rare?” Ysella snorted. “That might be the only copy. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Imperial family bought and destroyed all the copies they could find … extraordinarily quietly, of course, figuring that very few people besides scholars would read it. And anyone who made a big fuss about it … they just might have had trouble. Sixty years ago, that would have been easier.”

  “Ingrella must think you know…”

  “Or she wanted you to let me know,” returned Ysella. “She just used your interest to let us both know.”

  “You’re definitely descended from royalty,” he said with a smile, “but I think I knew that already … in a way.”

  “From almost anyone but you, that wouldn’t be a compliment.” She handed the history back to Dekkard.

  “When you finish the letter I’ll see about taking the Gresynt to a post drop.”

  “I’d appreciate that.”

  Dekkard looked blankly at the page before him, realizing that Ingrella’s introduction of Ysella at the legalists’ dinner in Oersynt hadn’t been just a pleasantry.

  He smiled ruefully, then decided to keep reading. Who knows what else you might find out?

  71

  AS Obreduur predicted, life was very quiet for the remainder of Furdi and all of Quindi, with the only thing that was “interesting,” according to Nellara, being her sessions practicing with throwing knives. While she had no innate skill at it, from what Dekkard saw, her determination and willingness to take instruction more than compensated for any lack of natural talent.

  Dekkard did see that several envelopes arrived by messenger bearing the Council seal, presumably reports from Macri, and he also noted that Obreduur sent at least one reply.

  By Quindi evening Dekkard had finished Empire of Gold: The First Imperadors. He asked Ingrella if there was a successor volume, since the title suggested there might be.

  “Three’s, no. The author died shortly after the book was published. H
eart failure.” Her last two words were sardonic.

  Halfway surprising was that the family did not attend services on Quindi evening, and Dekkard did not ask why. He went back to finishing The Scarlet Daughter, just to see where else the novel and the history diverged.

  Findi morning, everyone rose early, because the Obreduurs had a full day of visits and events, beginning with a breakfast meeting with the Pipefitters Guild, open free of charge to any pipefitter who belonged to the guild … and his spouse. Because Obreduur wanted to spend the time talking to people, he, Ingrella, Dekkard, and Ysella ate before they left the house. Obreduur showed Dekkard where another banner was stored, similar to the one used in Oersynt, except with poles that screwed together, and Dekkard packed it in the blue Gresynt. Then he drove the other three to the breakfast, where he and Ysella, in gray suits again, stayed close to the councilor.

  After not quite two bells at the breakfast, Dekkard drove the other three to Malek Field, where Obreduur stood under the banner that Dekkard and Ysella assembled and set up. Until the webball game between Malek and Chuive began, Obreduur met and talked with anyone who stopped. As soon as the game began, Dekkard and Ysella took down the banner while Obreduur talked to the last spectators who wished to meet him.

  From the webball game, Dekkard drove everyone to North Park, a tree-filled expanse of actual bladed grass with scores of picnic tables, where Obreduur made the rounds, sometimes being rebuffed, but seldom, possibly because Ysella was projecting a certain amount of friendliness, which was far more feasible in dealing with families than amid crowds and people moving swiftly, as they did at Malek Field.

  After covering North Park, the four returned briefly to the house for lager, wine, and sandwiches. Less than a full bell later, they sallied forth to the Women’s Clerical Guild Summerend Social, held in the assembly hall attached to the Trinitarian Riverside Chapel. Both the chapel and the assembly hall looked to have seen better days, but that was to be expected, Dekkard thought, given their proximity to the river mills, which included a massive flour mill, a furniture works that made oak and pine household furnishings, and several others.