Since Obreduur started arranging papers in the rear seat almost as soon as Dekkard started down the drive, Dekkard immediately asked, “Did you read that story in Gestirn about Navy construction costs?”
“I did. Gestirn was cautious. I understand there was more to it than that. Someone came up with extensive documentation. I wouldn’t be surprised if a more solid version doesn’t appear in newssheets in Siincleer, Point Larmat, and possibly Uldwyrk.”
“Do you think the Council will be able to get ahold of that documentation?” At that thought, Dekkard thought of Markell’s package, still in Obreduur’s safe … where it would have to remain for some time.
“Most certainly … when the time is right. Now…”
“Yes, sir.” Dekkard turned his full attention to driving, especially since he knew that, with the rain, traffic on Imperial Boulevard would be slower and trickier.
When he dropped Obreduur and Avraal off at the entrance to the Council Office Building, Dekkard saw there was less traffic and even a smaller number of Council Guards in their yellow waterproofs, then realized that was because most of the councilors and some staff had already departed to begin campaigning. After he parked the Gresynt, he dashed across the street, but still had to stop, if under the entry roof, to have his passcard checked before entering the building.
Inside, as Dekkard made his way to the staff staircase and then headed up to the second level, he noted that there might have been slightly fewer staffers in the corridors, but not many, given that most staff didn’t campaign. He had just stepped out of the staircase and into the upper corridor when he saw an all-too-familiar burly figure moving toward him—Jaime Minz.
“Good morning, Jaime. What inspiring insights do you have on this delightful rainy morning?”
“No great spiritual insights, Steffan. It’s good to see that you’re still here, and that your boss is enjoying his brief tenure as acting premier.”
“I don’t know anyone who would call being premier, even acting premier, enjoyable. What are you doing these days?”
“I’ll be on the staff roll until the election, and then I’ll be taking a position as an assistant director of security for Northwest Industrial Chemical.”
“Oh … after what Councilor Bassaana said on the floor, I can see where they might need some help in improving their security procedures dealing with dunnite.”
“Now, Steffan … aren’t you assuming a bit much?”
“Not too much. The Navy requires three manifests for everything and has sentries everywhere. But then, they’re easier to blame. We’ve all seen that. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with Northwest.” Dekkard smiled. “If I don’t see you any time soon, I do wish you well.”
Minz smiled pleasantly in return. “Oh … you’ll be seeing me around. I’ll still be in Machtarn, but do give my best to Avraal.” Then he turned and walked briskly down the corridor.
Dekkard smiled wryly. People like that always land on their feet … until they don’t.
Once in the office, Dekkard looked at his desk and was shocked to discover no letters or petitions on it.
Avraal smiled at him. “There isn’t much, and Felix, Svard, and Ivann can handle it. We’re supposed to keep working on sentences and phrases to describe what the councilor stands for … and, if we think of anything new that he could say, to write it up and give it to him before fifth bell, when we escort him to his meeting in the dining room.”
Dekkard didn’t quite groan. Letters and petitions were definitely much easier.
The next three bells emphasized that point. Dekkard could use specific acts to show a wider concern, as in the tariff-assessment problem where the councilor was working for Guldoran artisans against cheaper and lower-quality imports. Or where he’d worked out a way for woodcrafters not to work with wood that damaged their health. On the other hand, by amending the reallocation bill, Obreduur had kept Guldoran Ironway from getting almost all of the additional rail-maintenance funding, but how did that help various crafters or working people? And getting better Sanitation job descriptions approved for Machtarn wasn’t going to mean much to workers in Oersynt, even if the principles could be adopted elsewhere.
By a third before fifth bell, Dekkard had what he’d written up ready for the councilor and was more than glad for a break.
Obreduur came out of the inner office, took the papers from the two, and handed them to Karola. “If you’d have them typed up and put them on my desk.”
“Yes, sir.”
Dekkard concentrated on being alert, especially once they were walking—with almost no one else around—under the roofed portico to the Council Hall, since he still recalled a rainy evening in spring. But nothing happened, and after Obreduur left them, he and Avraal went to the cafeteria, which was almost empty. They both had milanesia, fowl for Avraal, veal for Dekkard, Kuhrs for both, and after paying they took a wall table for four.
“Jaime Minz had a few words to say to me this morning…” Dekkard quickly related what transpired, and the fact that he hadn’t had the chance to tell Obreduur, then took a long swallow of his Kuhrs.
“That sounds like he’s been hired to be an influencer here in Machtarn. Besides telling Obreduur, if you see Amelya Detauran, you might pass that on. Councilor Bassaana might like to know that, given that she has a large minority interest in Northwest.”
“If I do, I will.” Dekkard took a bite of the veal milanesia, then asked cheerfully, “Are you ready for a long ironway trip?”
“About as ready as you are,” she replied dryly.
As instructed, Dekkard and Avraal were walking down the corridor toward the dining room entrance just before first bell. Dekkard noticed that Micah Eljaan and Malcolm Maarkham stood a little ways away talking with three other security aides, but since the five were so engrossed, Dekkard stopped well short of joining, them as did Avraal.
“No other aides around,” said Dekkard quietly.
“Most councilors have already left.”
No one at all emerged until a third after the bell when Councilor Charls Maastach and another councilor walked out casually, with no security aides waiting.
Then Dekkard remembered that Maastach had been required to step down.
After several minutes, another three councilors came out. Dekkard immediately recognized Saarh, but not the other two. He was about to ask Avraal about them when Obreduur appeared and joined them.
“Did you have a good meeting?” asked Dekkard politely.
Obreduur offered a humorous smile. “I won’t find that out until after elections, and that’s if we’re successful. Right now, we need to get back to the office. The Night Express leaves at fourth bell.”
For Dekkard, Avraal, and the councilor the next two bells were a rush, but by a third before fourth bell they were on board the Night Express to Oersynt.
Although each had a separate compartment, given that sharing sleeping quarters would have been politically inexpedient, as well as cramped, Dekkard and Avraal were sitting in her compartment as the express pulled out of Imperial Station at precisely fourth bell.
“Did you bring any novels to read?” asked Avraal.
“I didn’t think about it. We haven’t been exactly unoccupied. Did you?”
She shook her head, then added with the hint of a mischievous smile, “I’m just glad I won’t have to compete with The Scarlet Daughter.”
Dekkard laughed, then leaned over and kissed her cheek, well aware that the compartment door was open.
91
DEKKARD slept only moderately well on the Night Express, partly because he was aware that Avraal was only a compartment away. He knew that didn’t make any sense. For two years, she’d been sleeping in the room adjacent to his, and that had never affected him. Except for most of that time you didn’t realize you were in love with her.
He awoke early, washed up as best he could, and shaved at the tiny sink, trying to be careful that he didn’t cut himself … and was successful, at least a
s far as he could see. Once dressed, he wrestled the fold-down bed back into place, and then opened his compartment door.
Less than a sixth later Avraal’s door opened, and she asked, “Could I join you?”
As she closed her compartment door, he could see her bed was down. That didn’t surprise him, since he’d had to use some force to replace his bed.
“We’ll wait for Obreduur to get breakfast,” she said. “It might be safe enough, but…”
Dekkard nodded. “How did you sleep?”
“Well enough, but the light seeped in.”
“That’s right. You’re on the east side of the carriage. We should have switched compartments.”
Avraal frowned.
“I tend to wake up early anyway. You don’t … or not as early,” he added quickly. “You could have slept a little later, anyway.”
At that moment, Obreduur peered in. “Good! Shall we go have breakfast?”
Breakfast in the dining carriage was mixed. The café was good, almost excellent, and there was even quince paste for the croissants, but the croissants were stale and a touch soggy. Dekkard ate them anyway, if with a slight excess of quince paste.
Slightly before fourth bell of the morning, the express crossed the Rio Mal, under a greenish-gray sky and light rain, and came to a stop in the Guldoran Ironway station in Oersynt.
Dekkard gathered together the baggage for the porters. Outside the station, Jareld Herrardo was waiting, fortunately under an overhanging roof for loading, with a dark blue Gresynt, either the same steamer as the one he’d used to transport them weeks earlier or one identical to it. He seemed to force a smile as he called out, “Welcome to Oersynt … again!”
Dekkard and Herrardo got the luggage loaded fairly quickly, and Herrardo said, “We got word last night that Villem Draforre is the Commerce candidate, and that the Landors picked Edmundo Wustoff. All we know about him is that he’s the younger son of one of the largest landholders between Oersynt and Malek.”
“We’ll just have to see, but I’m inclined to believe Draforre is the greater danger,” replied Obreduur. “Can I see the schedule?”
Herrardo handed sheets to each, then said, “The first visit is at first bell—that’s at the wholesale produce center. I didn’t want to schedule too closely. Guldoran’s had some delays lately because of rain damage to one of the lines between here and Gaarlak. But that will give you a chance to clean up at the hotel and get something to eat.”
“If we’re ready earlier,” said Obreduur, “we can visit some of the shops near the hotel.”
Herrardo handed the councilor a heliogram envelope. “You need to read this.”
Obreduur took the envelope and settled himself in the rear seat.
Herrardo had barely left the station when Obreduur cleared his throat, then said, “Jens Seigryn sent a heliogram this morning from Gaarlak. Johan Lamarr was killed last night in a fire and explosion at the family clock- and watchmaking business. The explosion was apparently triggered by a barrel of solvents that was either leaking or improperly stored, if not both. He’ll keep us informed of what happens next.”
“That wasn’t an accident,” said Dekkard.
“Why do you think that?” asked Obreduur evenly.
“The man I met in Gaarlak was on top of details. He was precise and knowledgeable, and Lamarr timepieces are known for their precision. People like that don’t make careless mistakes, and they seldom hire careless people.”
“From what I sensed of Lamarr,” added Avraal, “I’d agree with Steffan.”
“So would I,” said Obreduur, “but if the local patrollers can’t come up with any evidence that leads to someone, then the cause of death will remain as an accidental death.”
“Does that mean that Haasan Decaro will replace Lamarr as the Craft Party candidate?” asked Dekkard, strongly suspecting that he already knew the answer.
“Unless there’s evidence to link Haasan to the explosion … and there won’t be,” replied Obreduur. “Haasan’s always been good at hiding his tracks, and he’s been even better at making sure that anyone who knows anything won’t speak up. There’s also enough support among some of the rank-and-file patrollers for him that unless the evidence is overwhelming, Security isn’t about to charge him. Then, there’s also the feeling among some guild members that Lamarr’s been successful enough that he’s part Commercer. That’s another reason why the District Convention vote was so contentious.”
“And why you were asked to go to Gaarlak?” asked Dekkard.
“Certainly part of it.”
“So what can you do now?” asked Dekkard.
“That’s up to the district Craft Party, and they’ll have to come to an agreement,” said Obreduur. “It will be Haasan Decaro, regardless of the suspicion about Lamarr’s death, because Decaro is the only candidate right now who can get enough votes to take that seat from the Landors.” He paused. “In the meantime, we have more than a little campaigning to do.”
A sixth later, Dekkard arrived at his room at the Hotel Cosmopolitano. Unlike the previous visits to Oersynt, this time Obreduur had only a single room, flanked on each side by Dekkard’s and Avraal’s rooms. Dekkard quickly washed up and then brushed off his grays.
Then he waited out in the corridor for Avraal, and the two of them waited a few minutes for Obreduur before the three headed down to the restaurant, where they ate. Dekkard opted for grilled chicken in flatbread, with Riverfall lager, Avraal for an Imperial salad, and Obreduur for the house onion soup topped with cheese.
By a third after fifth bell, the three were walking west on Copper Avenue, where they stopped at a small stationery store next to the hotel.
“Only two people there,” said Avraal.
Dekkard opened the door, while Obreduur and Avraal entered, then followed them inside. The store was slightly less than four yards wide, and perhaps four to the rear wall of the front room, with a door to whatever lay behind on the right side of the back wall. An open-fronted glass case two yards long and waist high displayed papers in various sizes, tints, and shades.
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir,” said the woman behind the counter, apparently ringing up a sale on the large bronze mechanical cash register.
“There’s no hurry,” Obreduur replied cheerfully.
The customer, an older woman stylishly dressed in an off-white linen suit, finished paying, then stepped away from the counter, before pausing to look at a display of letter openers.
Dekkard suspected she was curious and wanted to know who or why the well-dressed man accompanied by two security aides happened to be in the shop.
Obreduur stepped up to the counter. “I’m not a customer, at least not at the moment. I’m Axel Obreduur…”
“Your name is familiar, sir, but I can’t say from where…”
“I’m the councilor of the Sixty-Six from Oersynt, and just wanted to remind you to vote in the election a week from Findi.”
The shopkeeper offered an amused smile. “You’d prefer I’d vote for you, I take it?”
Obreduur smiled in return. “I’d certainly appreciate it, and it might even be in your interests, since I’m running, as I have before, as the Craft Party candidate. Our interests do tend to favor smaller shops over the interests of large corporacions. Might I ask what you feel is the matter that most needs the attention of the Council?”
“Stopping those New Meritorists. You’d think Guldor was Atacama the way they’re acting.”
“We do have problems,” replied Obreduur, “but destroying the longest-lasting and most successful government in the world isn’t the way to fix them.”
She looked at him more intently. “You’re the councilor. What do you think the biggest problem is?”
“That the Commerce Party has held power for too long and become corrupted. Every week there’s another story about abuse of power.”
“Like the Kraffeist Affair?”
“That’s just one.”
“How
would you and the Craft Party be any better?”
“We’d have to prove we’re better, because people who haven’t voted for us are skeptical. We’re also the ones who’ve made small changes for the better even though we’re not in power.”
Behind Obreduur, the door opened.
The shopkeeper glanced to the door, then said, “I’ll have to think about it.”
Obreduur stepped back. “Please remember to vote. I’d like your vote, but do vote.”
As the clerk moved to deal with the customer who had just entered, the older woman who had waited took a step toward Obreduur and said, “You’re the young councilor they tried to kill two weeks back, aren’t you? That’s why you have security with you, isn’t it?”
“I’d have to say yes to both questions.”
The older woman nodded. “I’ll vote for anyone those Meritorists want to kill.”
“If you can encourage your friends and family to vote, I’d very much appreciate it.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” She gestured toward the door. “Go ahead. You have people to meet. I’m in no hurry.”
“Thank you,” said Obreduur warmly.
When the three were outside walking toward the next shop, which sported the name Darisha’s, and which appeared to feature women’s wear, Dekkard murmured to Avraal, “Usually, you can at least warm up…”
“She was strong-minded enough almost to be an isolate.”
“I wondered.”
Inside Darisha’s, two young women in deep purple dresses trimmed in white looked up as Obreduur entered. Then one stepped forward and said, “Might I help you, sir?”
“You can, but not by selling me anything. My name is Axel Obreduur, and I’m the incumbent Craft councilor. I’d like to know your thoughts about what’s important to you about government … and, if possible, persuade you to vote for me in the election a week from Findi.”
“There’s an election a week from Findi?” asked the first shopgirl.
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