“By the time the rebuilding is finished, one way or another, he won’t be Security Minister, but I understand that wouldn’t be the point of the question.”
“If you ask it, and then see if that could get Gestirn to comment that several councilors have questioned Wyath’s effectiveness … and later bring up the tariff issue … that the Treasury Minister seems unwilling to take steps to stem the loss of tariff funds…”
Obreduur laughed. “Those are all good points, Steffan, but perhaps a bit obscure to most people and most voters.”
“Shooting women in the back isn’t obscure,” said Avraal. “Perhaps you could ask during the debate what fiscal purpose shooting women in the back served.”
Obreduur shook his head. “I’d love to have a few junior councilors with the nerve that you two have. I’ll see what can be done … feasibly and under the circumstances.”
Dekkard had the definite feeling he’d pushed a bit too hard, but Obreduur had asked.
Once they entered the Council Office Building, no one spoke.
As soon as Obreduur entered the office anteroom, Roostof appeared and thrust a brown paper at Obreduur. “It’s a broadsheet on the Imperial University riot. It claims that Special Tactical Forces shot over three hundred people and killed a hundred and forty-one, not counting those who were critically wounded and might die. They’re everywhere, even in the Council Office Building.”
“They can’t be everywhere,” said Obreduur sardonically. “If the New Meritorists had that kind of resources, there would be more and different kinds of unrest with more participants. They’re targeting the Council, the capital, and the larger cities to create that impression with the Council and the Imperador.” He paused momentarily. “But if the Premier doesn’t handle this correctly, they just might gain a lot more supporters.”
“Premier Ulrich isn’t looking that good right now,” offered Roostof.
“He’s still Premier, and Wyath and the Security Ministry want to shoot every New Meritorist on sight.”
“And the Council gave them that authority,” said Avraal calmly.
“Barely,” Obreduur pointed out. “Not a single Craft councilor supported the measure, and neither did eight Landors.” After a slight pause, he added, “Let’s all think about what we can do … that will be effective. I’m open to ideas. Just let me know.” Then he entered the inner office.
Dekkard waited until Roostof returned to the legalists’ office before he followed Avraal to her desk, where he asked quietly, “Did I push too hard?”
“Not any harder than I did. Remember, if there are new elections, he’ll need some Landors. He can’t afford to speak too stridently if he wants to have any hope of getting them.”
“Was that why you mentioned shooting women in the back?”
“Of course. Noble Landors would never countenance shooting women in the back.”
Dekkard tried not to wince at the quiet acid in her voice. “He might use that.”
“We’ll see.”
Dekkard nodded.
Avraal offered a faint smile and added quietly, “You did what you could, Steffan. We’ll talk later.” Then she sat down and looked at the letters on her desk.
Dekkard walked to his desk and did the same.
83
ON Duadi, Dekkard reached the breakfast room only moments before Avraal. He offered her the newssheet.
“Not before café. You can tell me.”
Dekkard stood by the side table and read, while she poured her café and sat down. There were two articles of interest in Gestirn. The first was about the debate on the supplemental funding legislation, which included Councilor Bassaana’s question, followed by the statement that neither the Premier nor the Security Ministry had revealed the New Meritorists had used military dunnite to destroy regional Security buildings.
Dekkard frowned. Bassaana had asked a similar question in the Council the previous week, but none of the newssheets had mentioned it. He couldn’t believe that they’d overlooked it, and that meant that they’d chosen not to mention it … or that Security had censored it.
Why didn’t they censor it this time? Or did Gestirn slip it in after Security read the newssheet? He paused. Or was that allowed in there to give Ulrich some public support for blaming everything on Wyath?
The second article was at the bottom of the sixth page, and it was very short.
… the High Justiciary has informed this newssheet that it will hold today the initial hearing on a petition by Eduard Graffyn requesting a change in the procedures for granting coal leases on the lands of the Imperium on the grounds that the current procedures are insufficient to prevent misuse, as demonstrated in the instance of the Kraffeist Affair by the material in the deposition submitted to the High Justiciary. Because former Minister Kraffeist died of a fall at his home on Findi, the Court will be unable to summon him for testimony and may request other witnesses, as necessary.
Dekkard nodded slowly. Because the High Justiciary did have the final ruling on whether any restriction on publication of information exceeded the limits of the Great Charter, Gestirn would face severe sanctions for not printing the article as written, and if the newssheet didn’t print it at all, the editors and owners could end up before the Justiciary. Also, the High Justicers had essentially stated that they had documented testimony about what had happened, which had to make Ulrich uneasy, even if he hadn’t been premier at the time.
Dekkard handed the newssheet to Avraal. “I can’t summarize. Page one and the bottom of page six.” He probably could have summarized, but he wanted to see her reaction.
She accepted the newssheet with a slightly annoyed expression. That vanished as she read the front page, but her lips offered a faintly amused smile as she finished the second article. She handed the newssheet back and said, “I hate to admit that you were right. Ingrella must have something on some of the Landor or Commercer High Justicers, or one of them doesn’t like someone.”
“It might be both,” said Dekkard, setting the newssheet back on the side table and pouring his café. He added croissant and quince paste to his plate and sat down across from her.
“It also looks like Ulrich is setting Wyath up to be dismissed for incompetence.”
“Or someone at Gestirn is taking a great risk,” he replied.
“Do you think anyone would?”
“It’s possible that Security’s censorship has gone beyond regulating accuracy, and someone at the newssheet could be trying to circumvent that.” At Avraal’s skeptical expression, he added, “It could happen.”
“I’d still wager on Ulrich throwing Wyath into the winterheights.”
“That’s possible.” Dekkard split his first croissant and added the quince paste.
They exchanged pleasantries as they ate, or rather as Dekkard ate, and Avraal drank two mugs of café, and then both left the staff room, returning their plates and mugs to the kitchen.
When Obreduur entered the Gresynt with Ysella, he said nothing, and neither did Dekkard, who waited until he had the steamer headed north on Imperial Boulevard.
“Sir…” asked Dekkard very deferentially, mindful of how much he’d pressed Obreduur the day before, “what do you make of the stories in Gestirn this morning?”
“I wasn’t surprised at all by the fact that Gestirn tried to bury the story on the Graffyn petition where the fewest people possible would read it. The Premier won’t be at all happy. On the other hand, I was very surprised that the front-page story ran at all. I suspect that there will be repercussions, and that they won’t be trivial.”
“What do you think will happen?” asked Ysella.
“If Ulrich and Wyath are smart about it … nothing. There are times when it’s best not to react, but I don’t think they’ll be able to resist the urge to do something.” After a brief pause, Obreduur added, “Don’t ask me what that might be. I’d just be guessing.”
“Thank you,” said Dekkard, unwilling to press further.
&
nbsp; The profusion of Council Guards outside the Council Office Building remained, and Dekkard again had to go through the Security gauntlet to get inside the building and make his way to the office.
As soon as he entered, Karola said, “He wants to see you.”
Dekkard’s first thought was to worry that he’d done something wrong, but Obreduur just smiled and gestured to a chair, waiting until Dekkard was seated.
“I just received a message from Jens Seigryn. Johan Lamarr has decided, if elections are called in the next year, that he will run for councilor.” Obreduur paused, as if waiting.
“I was much more impressed with him than with Haasan Decaro,” Dekkard said, “and I would have been even if I hadn’t learned what a bastard Decaro is.”
“Decaro isn’t always a bastard,” replied Obreduur, “just when things don’t go his way. That’s an even bigger problem in politics, because too often matters don’t go as we’d prefer.”
Dekkard had seen that. He smiled wryly.
“Johan has let Jens know that he’d appreciate any background information he could use to present himself at the district party convention that will select the candidate in the next election. You have a knack for expressing issues in concise political terms…”
Sometimes far too directly for polite discussion among councilors, but suited to election campaigning? Dekkard kept his wry smile to himself.
“… so I thought that you could summarize the issues involved in the art tariffs, since that technique, if not challenged, could be applied by the Commercers to other craft-produced goods.”
“Such as watches?”
Obreduur nodded. “Also, and Ivann briefed me on this, you could generalize what the Commercers are doing with the reallocation bill to point out its use as a way to funnel funds to favored corporacions without oversight or public knowledge…” For the next sixth of a bell, the councilor pointed out other issues that Dekkard could write up for Lamarr. He concluded the brief meeting by saying, “Handle this first. I’d like to dispatch something this afternoon.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard returned to his desk and set aside the more routine correspondence to work on the support papers for the Crafters guildmeister, glad to be of assistance, especially given the alternative of Decaro. He still wondered why Decaro had once tried to remove Obreduur.
He’d made a fair amount of progress when Obreduur stepped out of the inner office just a sixth before noon.
“You can escort me to the dining room. Feel free to get something to eat before you return to the office, but be back at the councilors’ entrance no later than a third before third bell.”
Dekkard and Avraal escorted Obreduur to the dining room, ate quickly at the staff cafeteria, and were back at their desks a good third before first bell, where Dekkard went back to work on drafting the short briefing papers. He actually finished all but one of the drafts just before he and Avraal had to return to the Council Hall to wait for Obreduur.
As they hurried from the office, she said, “You’ve been especially busy.”
“Drafting briefing papers for Johan Lamarr. He’s decided to stand for election, if there’s one in the next year.”
“Good … and there will be. I don’t see how the Imperador can let Ulrich continue. Since it’s an unspoken custom that a party only gets one change of leadership, if he feels he has to ask Ulrich for his resignation, he should call for elections.”
“Do you think he will?” asked Dekkard.
“I’d like to think so, but since there’s been nothing like this in years, who really knows?”
“Not since the Silent Revolution.”
“Women will play a larger part in the next election.”
Thinking of Ingrella and Gretna Haarl … and Avraal, Dekkard nodded, even as he wondered how much the difference might be.
The two reached the councilors’ entrance a little earlier than necessary, but had to stand to the side because all the seats on the benches in the staff waiting area were taken.
Ysella studied those waiting, then murmured, “Nothing out of the usual.”
“Good … and thank you.”
Obreduur wasn’t the first off the floor, but he was far from the last, and he joined them immediately. As was his habit, he said nothing until they were out of the Council Hall and walking through the garden square.
“We considered the reallocation bill this afternoon.” He followed those words with an amused smile.
“I assume it passed,” said Dekkard.
“It did, after the Council agreed to an amendment to the ironway section. Based on what you and Ivann found out, he drafted language that stipulates that no more than half the funds reallocated can be given to one ironway without a subsequent vote by the Council. It was adopted unanimously. Even Ulrich didn’t seem displeased, and Councilor Bassaana thanked me. I told her you had been the one to discover what had been buried in the bill.”
“I just found out about the supplemental. Ivann discovered how they did it.”
“As in most political accomplishments, even minor ones, it takes a number of people to make it work. Some politicians craft the illusion that they’re solely responsible for a law or good times, but that kind of illusion is always self-serving, and it’s usually destructive over the years.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of an amendment like that,” Dekkard admitted.
“Now you’ll know to look for those possibilities,” returned Obreduur.
When the three returned to the office, Dekkard finished the last draft briefing paper for Lamarr and took it to Margrit for her to type up, then went back to his desk to draft more responses.
Somehow, Obreduur dealt with everything, including making small revisions to the briefing papers for Lamarr quickly enough that Margrit typed them up in final form and got them posted, and that Dekkard was dispatched to get the Gresynt by a third past fourth bell.
He was just nearing the doors to the Council Office Building on his way to the covered parking when he saw Jaime Minz angling toward him. This isn’t going to be good. Despite his initial reaction, Dekkard managed a pleasant smile. “Good afternoon.”
“The same to you, Steffan.” Minz moved so that he stood between Dekkard and the doors. “It looks like a warm afternoon, doesn’t it?”
“Warm enough.”
“I heard that you ran into some difficulties in Oersynt at the Summerend Festival … and that you, shall we say, cut through them.”
“We weren’t the only ones, according to the newssheets.”
“That’s true, but your boss survived because you and Avraal are among the best.”
“I’m sure there are other teams as good.” Dekkard knew Minz hadn’t encountered him by chance, especially since he’d left the office later than usual, and later than most staffers.
“Not many. Like I said, you’re among the best, but even the best can’t always cut their way out, not in uncertain times. So far, that’s allowed your boss to do what he does best. He’s been extremely effective in increasing the power of the Crafters. He’s amazing. One of a kind, you might say. Between him and Haarsfel … they’ve marginalized the Landors. But then, most of the Landors don’t really know what they’re doing. There’s also the fact that there’s really only the two of them. If anything happened to either of them…” Minz shrugged. “Continuing success in politics requires more than a dynamic duo.”
“It seems to me that your boss is quite dynamic, especially with illusions.”
“That’s because his illusions reflect the hard underlying reality. Sometimes, in fact, those illusions are reality.”
“I really have to admire you, Jaime. You’re so adroit with pleasantries and casual observations.”
“That’s the way it is when you understand power, Steffan. Play the game right, like crowns, and you could be here a long time.”
“I don’t know that I’ll ever be as good at games and illusions as you are, Jaime. I’m more comfortable wit
h facts.”
“In politics, sometimes facts are illusions. You have to know when that’s so.”
“I appreciate your advice and information.”
“Glad to be of service, Steffan.” With another warm and cheerful smile, Minz turned and headed in the direction of the main central staircase.
Dekkard was especially watchful and alert as he made his way to the Gresynt, and he spent a few extra minutes inspecting the steamer before he got in and lit it off. As soon as he had picked up Obreduur and Avraal, and he was on Council Avenue heading for Imperial Boulevard, he said, “Sir … you should know that Jaime Minz was waiting in the west entryway for me when I went to get the steamer. He had quite a bit to say…” Dekkard went on to relate the conversation as close to word-for-word as he could recall.
“What did you feel he meant to convey from what he said?” asked Obreduur, his voice seeming genuinely curious.
“It seemed to be a veiled threat to Avraal and me as well as to you. He seemed to be hinting that the Craft Party can’t take too many more Landor seats … and that Ulrich won’t be happy if you target Commercer seats … but he never mentioned anyone except you and Councilor Haarsfel … well, and Avraal and me.”
“He’s right. We can only win two more from the Landors, before they’re down to sixteen, the minimum they’re guaranteed by the Great Charter. What else?”
“He let me know that my time using throwing knives was about up.”
“He wants you to think that, and you’re going to have to be even more careful. With your skill, there will still be times when they’ll be useful.”
Dekkard would have liked to hope that he wouldn’t have to use them again, but he had the feeling that was unlikely, at least in the near future.
After getting everyone back to the house, Dekkard checked both steamers thoroughly.
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