Isolate

by L. E. Modesitt Jr.

  Just as he was finishing, Avraal entered the garage. “You’re taking longer this afternoon.”

  “I thought a little more care might be useful. I checked it in the covered parking, too.”

  “I’m going to start carrying the knives all the time, the way you do,” Avraal said quietly. “You’re not to tell anyone, not even Obreduur. And you’ll help me improve drawing and throwing. Starting tonight.”

  “Because of what Minz said?”

  “That’s only part of it. In Oersynt, there were two assassins. What if there are two again … or three?”

  “We might have to worry more about them carrying pistols … or using military rifles from a distance.”

  “Not if they use untraceable intermediaries,” she replied. “That seems to be a methodology common to both Commercers and New Meritorists. Besides, it can’t hurt.”

  Only if you miss. He didn’t voice the thought, since she probably wouldn’t. He decided to change the subject. “What do you think about Johan Lamarr’s decision … and Decaro?”

  “Decaro won’t be happy … and he’s the kind that’s dangerous.”

  “If there are elections…”

  “When there are elections,” she corrected him gently.

  “… the Craft Party District Convention will have to decide between the two of them.”

  “Such a choice will delight Gretna Haarl,” replied Avraal dryly.

  “Do you think she’s that influential?”

  “She might be. I had the feeling that she has much more backing in the Textile Millworkers Guild than Maatsuyt thinks, and in several others as well.”

  “Who would she back … among those two?”

  “Lamarr … I’d guess. She doesn’t care for either, but Lamarr is polite to her. She asked Jens Seigryn why the party couldn’t pick a woman.”

  “You didn’t mention this before. What did he say?”

  “Something about Gaarlak not being ready for a woman councilor.”

  Dekkard winced, thinking about how Haarl would have reacted.

  “You’re right. She snapped back something to the effect that Gaarlak would never be ready if everyone kept saying that it wasn’t time.”

  “They’re both right,” Dekkard replied. “Women need more visibility, and making her an assistant guildmeister was a first step. So was Ingrella’s victory in getting women the same status and pay as male supervisors.” He paused. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t like it, but after visiting Gaarlak, you’re probably right.” She motioned to the half-open door into the hall. “I need to wash up some. I feel grimy.”

  “You look wonderful.”

  “I feel grimy … and you have some specks of soot or grease on your forehead.”

  Dekkard smiled wryly and followed her out of the garage.

  84

  WHEN Dekkard came down for breakfast on Tridi morning, he immediately noticed there was no edition of Gestirn on the side table.

  “Hyelda … wasn’t there an edition of Gestirn this morning?”

  “No. The newsboy left a note. He said Security had shut down the newssheet.”

  “They shut it down?” Even though Dekkard had thought it might be possible, that Security had in fact done so still surprised him.

  “That’s what the newsboy said. That’s all I know.”

  “Are you that surprised?” asked Avraal as she entered the room. “We both thought yesterday’s articles were unusual.” She took a mug and poured her café, then sat down.

  Dekkard followed her example, then looked across the table at her, seemingly unruffled in her security grays. “I was hoping there was a way out of this mess without more violence.”

  “Shutting down a newssheet,” said Hyelda from where she appeared in the archway to the kitchen, “isn’t killing people.”

  “No,” agreed Dekkard. “What’s interesting is that Gestirn could report on how many students and demonstrators Security killed or wounded, but when the newssheet reports what a councilor says about Security’s incompetence or incompetence in the Ministry of Public Resources, it gets shut down.”

  “You think there’s more there?” asked Hyelda.

  Avraal laughed softly but ironically.

  Hyelda shook her head and returned to the kitchen.

  Dekkard took two croissants, then looked mock-mournfully at the tomato jelly, before adding some to his platter.

  “You know,” said Avraal gently, “most people won’t make the connection you did. They probably should, but they won’t. Either they don’t really care, or they’re stupid. The Great Charter limited freedom of the press because a totally free press always becomes a tool of the wealthy and powerful, but a regulated press is only accurate and effective so long as the government isn’t perpetually dominated by one party.”

  “What you’re saying is that someone always controls the press.”

  “That’s right. The question is how much government can and should control it.”

  Dekkard snorted. “That’s true of everything.”

  “Exactly. Too much government control, and you have tyranny. Too little, and you end up with plutocracy, which isn’t much different from tyranny if you’re poor or working in a manufactory.”

  Dekkard put dollops of tomato jelly on his croissants, and began to eat them slowly, interspersed with café.

  He was still thinking about the Gestirn shutdown and what Avraal had said well after breakfast and even when she and Obreduur got into the Gresynt.

  Almost immediately, Obreduur said, “I got an unsigned note in a sealed envelope from the newsboy this morning.”

  “Hyelda mentioned that,” said Ysella.

  “It said that the night editor was run down by a steam lorry last night when he left work. But all the fingers of his right hand were broken and there was almost no blood on his body despite severe injuries.”

  “So not only is Gestirn shut down by Security,” said Dekkard, “but someone killed the night editor, presumably for printing material that Security decided was to be deleted or changed.”

  “That’s a fair assumption, if not provable. Ingrella’s going to send a message from her office to Carlos Baartol. He may be able to find out more.”

  “Is Ritten Obreduur at liberty to say what happened at the hearing yesterday?” asked Ysella.

  “The only information that she had last night was that the High Justiciary met in chambers after the public hearing, which took less than a bell and was only procedural.”

  “What could they do?” asked Dekkard.

  “They can deny the Graffyn petition. They can grant it. With either denial or granting the remedy, they can reveal what’s in the deposition or not. Ingrella said that there’s another option, but it requires the unanimous vote of all six justicers. She said she preferred not to tell me that option because, if even a hint of it surfaced, its effectiveness might be weakened or lost. I did not press her. I have no idea what it might be, but I suspect it must be something embedded in a precedent unused in centuries, but still valid.”

  Dekkard glanced sideways at Avraal. She gave the smallest nod. But then, with Avraal in the steamer, Obreduur would not have lied. He just wouldn’t have mentioned the option.

  That’s an indirect way of asking if either of us knows. “I have no idea, sir, but I’m definitely not a legal scholar.”

  “I don’t know, either,” said Ysella.

  “Then we’ll just have to see what the High Justiciary does … if anything.” Obreduur’s voice carried a slight hint of both frustration and resignation.

  Dekkard wondered why Ingrella did not want to tell her husband, but that suggested that the two did not see eye-to-eye on the matter … and that Ritten Obreduur was a quietly powerful personage in her own right. He also had the feeling that the Commercers were the only ones doing anything, and that everyone else was just maneuvering meaninglessly … or at least uselessly. He kept that thought to himself and concentrated on his driving.
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br />   When Dekkard pulled up at the entrance to the Council Office Building, there were even more Council Guards visible, particularly around the entrance doors. “Sir, has there been a threat against the Council?”

  “I don’t know of any, but the Premier hasn’t been particularly timely in informing the Craft Party lately.”

  Avraal stepped out quickly, then said, “I don’t sense anything right now.”

  Obreduur hurried out of the steamer and said, “Be careful, Steffan.” Then he closed the door.

  Dekkard was exceedingly wary in driving to the covered parking, although he had to show his passcard at the gate to the covered parking, then after he got out of the Gresynt when he parked, and a third time to enter the Council Office Building.

  “Has there been any word about the additional guards?” Dekkard asked Karola as soon as he entered the office. “Or why Gestirn was shut down by Security?”

  “If there is, we haven’t been informed,” she replied.

  Dekkard settled himself behind his desk and looked down at the small pile of letters.

  Without his asking, Karola said, “Not all the mail is here. They’re checking all packages and anything suspicious. We got a notice that we’ll have an afternoon mail delivery because of the delay.”

  Ulrich must be really worried, but what did he expect when he ordered Security to shoot anyone who even looks like a New Meritorist? And when they’ve proved they can get inside Security and into the Council Hall?

  Avraal looked up from her desk and said, “Ulrich announced they’ll finish dealing with the supplemental appropriation today. The councilor wants to leave for the dining room at a third past fifth bell.”

  Dekkard nodded, picked up the first letter, and began to read. Another complaint about the failure of the Council to deal with the New Meritorists, and from the phrase “worthless scum,” he had the feeling it was either from a Commercer or someone who read the Tribune or the Herald—its equivalent in Oersynt.

  By the time the councilor stepped out of his office, Dekkard had turned over all his draft responses to Margrit and was trying to write a logical set of steps for the Council to deal with the New Meritorists—not that Obreduur had even hinted at something like that. He slipped the notes he’d made into the side drawer and immediately stood.

  “The same as yesterday,” Obreduur said, as he led the way out of the office.

  As the three neared the top of the staircase, Dekkard saw a pair of Council Guards, one posted at each side of the staircase, and another pair at the bottom of the steps. The two at the top looked closely at the three, but said nothing. Dekkard noticed that one looked quite a bit longer at Avraal, which both amused and annoyed him. The guards at the bottom seemed more concerned with those going up.

  When they stepped out of the building into the garden courtyard, Dekkard saw more guards posted around the fountain. Ulrich must have brought in every guard and has them working double time. Another thought occurred to him. With all those guards, it’s more likely that, if the New Meritorists were to strike somewhere, it won’t be here. But Dekkard had no idea where it might be.

  The Treasury Ministry might be a possibility, given that government ran on marks, but so did Machtarn Harbor; or perhaps key sections of the ironways, because trade fueled the wallets of the Commercers. The ironways might even be better, because Dekkard doubted Security watched that much, and Guldoran and the other ironways were very cost-conscious. The Palace and its grounds were a possibility, but that wouldn’t actually have much of a real effect, and most of the New Meritorist attacks had resulted in physical and financial damage.

  Inside the Council Hall, there might have been a few more guards, but Dekkard didn’t see much difference. Once they saw Obreduur to the dining room, they headed for the cafeteria, where they were quickly served, given that almost no staffers were there. After a third or so, more staffers appeared, but none who approached.

  “Almost everyone’s wary,” she said quietly. “They’re waiting for something to happen.”

  “It won’t be today. Tomorrow or Findi … or later. If the New Meritorists are going to do something, they’ll do it when or where it’s not expected.”

  “That’s true.”

  The two lingered longer in the staff cafeteria than they usually did, but finally made their way to the staff waiting area. Unexpectedly, the chimes signifying adjournment rang at just a few minutes past second bell, and Obreduur was among the first to leave the floor and enter the main corridor. Dekkard and Ysella immediately met him and escorted him toward the courtyard.

  “What happened?” Dekkard asked, but only after the three were in the square.

  “The supplemental passed, mostly as proposed. Several minor amendments passed by unanimous consent. One didn’t, and required a vote. As chairman of the Transportation Committee, Councilor Maastach offered an amendment to add funds to the Ministry of Transportation budget.”

  “Because you cut what Guldoran Ironway got under the reallocation bill?”

  “He didn’t say, but Saandaar Vonauer immediately supported it.”

  “Since he’s the Landor floor leader,” replied Dekkard, “that’s not surprising. I wonder what Ulrich promised him.” To keep his head, possibly? Except Ulrich would never have been that direct.

  “It didn’t matter. The same number of councilors as those who supported the ironway amendment voted to defeat Maastach’s proposed amendment. He seemed surprised that it turned out that way.” Obreduur smiled.

  “That was all?”

  The councilor nodded, then added, “Just after Ulrich adjourned for the day, he was handed a sheet by the record clerk. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it, because he hurried back to his floor office.”

  Roostof was waiting for the three in the outer office. So was everyone else. Roostof held what appeared to be another broadsheet, which he immediately extended to Obreduur. “Word is that they printed thousands of these and that they’re everywhere.”

  After Obreduur finished reading it, he laid it on Karola’s desk faceup. He just motioned to it and stepped back. He didn’t say a word.

  Dekkard read the heading of the broadsheet and the bolded heads below.

  THE GREAT COVER-UP

  No Newssheets?

  Editor Murdered, Hand Mangled, for Printing Facts?

  The Commercers Can’t Stand the Truth.

  Commercers Cover Up Corruption, Murders, and Lies.

  DON’T LET THEM! DEMAND THE TRUTH!

  After everyone had read the broadsheet, since no one else said anything, but just looked at each other, Dekkard said, “That’s the first time they’ve mentioned a political party.”

  “It might be because they realize they don’t have enough followers for a revolution,” replied Obreduur. “By targeting the Commerce Party, it puts pressure on the Imperador not to give in to what he and the Commercers see as the mob. It also makes the Commercers more determined not to give in. That means that Ulrich and Security will crack down harder. That could turn more people against Security and the Commercers.”

  “Can’t Ulrich see that?” asked Dekkard.

  “I said it could. It also will turn people against the New Meritorists. Which people get more upset after the next round of suppression and killings will decide what happens.”

  “Do you think they’ll do that?” asked Anna worriedly.

  “I’m afraid it’s more likely than not,” replied Obreduur.

  “Is there anything we can do?” pressed Dekkard.

  “The Council, as it presently exists, won’t oppose the Premier. The Imperador can only request the Premier resign or call for elections. I’m not about to guess at what he will do or when he might. I would suggest staying a good distance from any demonstrations.” Obreduur picked up the broadsheet and handed it to Karola. “Add that to the file.”

  Then he turned and entered his office.

  “Everyone, back to work,” said Macri quietly.

  Dekkard walked b
ack to his desk and sat down, then looked at the new stack of letters, obviously from the additional mail delivery. He opened the first one.

  85

  THE remainder of Tridi afternoon, the evening, and the night were quiet. Even knife-throwing practice was subdued, perhaps because Nellara was getting more consistent with her releases, and her knives were sticking deeper into the target, and those modest achievements meant there were fewer impatient sighs.

  Dekkard slept adequately and woke abruptly on Furdi morning, although he couldn’t have said why. As soon as he was on his feet, he began to worry about what might happen over the next few days, but he forced himself to concentrate on preparing for the day. Before that long he was headed down to breakfast. He did smile at the thought that Avraal would join him before long—if she wasn’t already in the staff room.

  Besides Hyelda, he was the first, and he looked to the side table. The newssheet set there was smaller than Gestirn, and when Dekkard picked it up he got faint smudges of ink on his fingers. He looked at the masthead—The Machtarn Tribune.

  “Still no Gestirn, Hyelda?” he called into the kitchen.

  “Won’t be for a while, the newsboy said. The Ritten said to get the other one until Gestirn comes back.”

  “Thank you.” While he was certainly not supportive of the political and economic views that pervaded every page of the Tribune, he supposed any newssheet was better than none.

  He began to read.

  Security Ministry Works to Restore Order

  Over the past week, all across Guldor, hardworking Security agents have arrested and incarcerated over a thousand individuals belonging to the New Meritorists, the group behind the violent protests that have rocked all the major cities, particularly Machtarn. While Special Tactical Forces put down the disturbance earlier this week at Imperial University, many temporarily eluded government forces. “These so-called New Meritorists are nothing more than political terrorists, murderers, and thugs bent on destroying all we hold dear,” declared Security Minister Lukkyn Wyath. “We will root out every last one of them, however long it takes.”