EMRELDA had to work on Findi, and Dekkard and Avraal slept in, so that they didn’t get to the kitchen for breakfast until after the second morning bell. Dekkard wore old grays, while Avraal wore a robe over her nightclothes. They found Gaaroll, wearing one of her older outfits, sitting at the breakfast room table with an old deck of pastecards, dealing out what looked to be a game of impatience.
“How long have you been up?” asked Dekkard.
“Had breakfast with Emrelda. She offered to drop me off in the Erslaan area. Said I could look around there.”
“Obviously, you didn’t go.” Dekkard began to fix café for himself and Avraal.
“No point in it. I don’t have many marks, and I’ve got good clothes now.” She smiled. “Thank you again. Margrit said I looked stylish. Probably not, but it’s nice to be able to fit in in a swell office.”
“You’re learning,” said Avraal.
Gaaroll looked at Dekkard. “You were really a plasterer?”
“An apprentice to a decorative plasterer.”
A frown crinkled her forehead.
“My parents are artisans. I didn’t have the talent. After they realized that, my mother suggested I compete for a place at the Military Institute. I was fortunate enough to get one. I went into security after graduation and applied for a position with the Council. Obreduur hired me. Working security for a councilor fulfills the service requirement.” If barely. Dekkard filled two mugs with café and placed one in front of Avraal and the other across from her, then went to the pantry cooler, from which he extracted three croissants and the quince paste, placing them on two plates and bringing them back to the table.
Avraal sipped her café while Dekkard split his croissants and filled them.
“What are you two doing today?” asked Gaaroll.
“We’re going to dinner early at the Obreduurs’,” said Avraal. “We need to run some errands before that.”
Dekkard managed not to frown. Avraal hadn’t mentioned errands.
“Would you like to come with us?” asked Avraal.
“I’ll need to change.”
“As if we don’t?” asked Dekkard dryly.
A hint of a smile crossed Gaaroll’s face, but vanished quickly.
“Just a few small things,” explained Avraal. “I’d thought perhaps we might gift them with some wine, or anything else that might be appropriate, and we really should get some wine for the house. Emrelda’s done more than her share of that.”
Dekkard and Avraal didn’t hurry, and it was close to fourth bell before they left the house by the east portico door.
“Trouble’s coming,” said Gaaroll. “Next door.”
Dekkard glanced to the adjoining house to see Sr. Waaldwud walking toward them.
Waaldwud stopped at the edge of the drive and glared. “I hope you’re all happy. Clare just gave me notice. She said she couldn’t work here with an empath looking over her shoulder.”
“I’m sorry she felt that way,” replied Avraal pleasantly. “Some people have difficulty meeting professional and legal standards.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say. You don’t know how hard it is to find a decent nanny.” Then Waaldwud turned abruptly and stalked back toward his front door.
“The boy deserves better,” said Avraal quietly.
“Better nanny and better father,” said Gaaroll.
“Most likely,” said Avraal, “but we don’t control either.”
“Is there any other trouble around?” asked Dekkard sardonically.
“Just him,” replied Gaaroll.
Gaaroll didn’t sense any other strong emotions during the various errands, in the middle of which the three stopped at Elfredo’s, where Avraal and Dekkard ordered various light plates. Gaaroll ate the largest share, which was what Avraal had in mind, Dekkard suspected.
After eating, Avraal and Dekkard picked up two cases of assorted wines, most for the house, as well as two special bottles for the Obreduurs and a decorative basket for the wine. Even so, the three were back at the house by slightly after second bell.
Dekkard and Avraal thought about sitting on the veranda, but decided against it, given the arrival of a chilly wind out of the northeast. Instead they repaired to the sitting room.
“What are you going to say about the Eschbach book?” Dekkard asked.
“What will you say?” she returned with a smile.
“I haven’t thought about it. I have had a few other matters on my mind recently.”
“You didn’t think about the book or what you’ll say?”
“I thought about the book. I’d be interested to know just who Johan Eschbach was. If he was just a writer or … something more.”
“Just a writer?” asked Avraal. “Does a writer have to be something more? How would you feel if someone asked if you were just a councilor or if you were something more?”
Dekkard winced. “I didn’t mean it quite that way. I wondered if his words were based on observation or experience or both.”
“That’s not much better,” Avraal pointed out, again smiling.
Dekkard shook his head. Finally, he asked, “What do you think?”
“I’ve enjoyed what we’ve read so far, and I’m looking forward to reading more. I like the way he writes. For him, Averra is alive.”
“I’m not sure that I’d think of Machtarn in that way. Gaarlak, maybe.”
“That could be because Gaarlak grew slowly. Machtarn has more than doubled in size in the last generation.”
“So…” Dekkard drew out the word. “… you’re saying that rapid growth destroys a city’s character?”
“Makes it different anyway.” Avraal stood. “I need to change for dinner.”
“I thought…?”
“There’s informal, and there’s informal.”
Dekkard smiled, then stood. “You can pick what I’m wearing. I’m obviously not good at distinguishing between shades of informal.”
“I’ll be happy to choose something for you,” said Avraal, in a tone both amused and verging on the overly sweet.
In the end, Dekkard wore a rich green barong with deep gray trousers, and Avraal a green mid-calf-length dress with three-quarter sleeves and a sleeveless vest of a lighter green.
“You two look good,” said Gaaroll. “You’re sure you don’t need me?”
“You don’t sense any strong emotions nearby, do you?” asked Dekkard.
“No, sir.”
“We’ll chance it,” said Dekkard. “No one was watching this morning. You don’t sense anyone, and it’s unlikely anyone beside the Obreduurs knows where we’re going or when.”
Even so, Dekkard didn’t take Jacquez or Camelia Avenue on the way, and he approached the Obreduur house from the east on Altarama Drive. The gates were open, and he drove up under the portico, where he parked the Gresynt. Avraal carried the small basket that held two bottles of Silverhills Red Reserve.
Axel Obreduur stood at the top of the steps waiting, wearing a silver-trimmed black barong, one of the few times that Dekkard had seen him not wearing a jacket.
“Greetings, Avraal, Steffan. That’s a handsome steamer.”
“We were fortunate to find one this good,” replied Dekkard, definitely not wanting to explain, “especially since I got to know about Gresynts here.”
“Come in, come in.” Obreduur led them into the sitting room, where Ingrella stood beside the chair that was her favorite.
Avraal handed her the basket. “Just a small token.”
“You two didn’t have to,” replied Ingrella, who then turned to her husband and gave him the basket.
“You really didn’t,” added Obreduur. “I assume you’re ready for refreshments. Silverhills white and Kuhrs?”
“Please,” replied Dekkard, while Avraal nodded.
After Obreduur left the room, Ingrella said, “I’m so glad you could come. Our life has been crowded, especially now, with the possible food shortages. Axel’s had to invite committee chairs here, ministers—people who might be ministers.” She paused and offered a smile that Dekkard would have called quietly wicked. “And some who, after coming, will never be.”
“I have to say that I was impressed by Serapha Marler Kuta,” said Dekkard. “Was she one of those you favored?”
“She was, although I leaned more toward Elyncya Duforgue, but since Elyncya decided to run for councilor and was elected, I was certainly happy with Serapha.”
Dekkard nodded. Another example of how far out they planned matters. After the years of working for Obreduur, that didn’t surprise him. “I’m assuming the indictment of Wyath and the others will lead to a trial. It will be interesting to see how that goes.”
“You wouldn’t have heard, but Mangele hanged himself in his cell sometime this morning. We got the word around midday.”
“Will that make convictions more difficult?” asked Dekkard, finding himself strangely unsurprised, almost as if he’d known something like that might happen.
“On some counts, those involving conspiracy to commit murder, it will weaken the case. That’s just my opinion. I don’t see how Wyath can escape the charge of high treason, though.”
“In case you haven’t already noticed,” declared Obreduur, returning with a tray that he set on the side table, “it’s unwise to wager against her opinions, especially in legal matters.”
“I take it that there was a mountain of evidence against Mangele,” said Dekkard. “Even though the Security Committee hearings didn’t go into matters deeply, I got that impression.” He paused. “Was Fredrich instructed not to allow too much in the way of specifics, but enough to justify an investigation?”
“Steffan,” said Obreduur, “you don’t miss much.” He handed a wineglass of Silverhills white to Avraal, then a second to Ingrella.
“Usually,” replied Dekkard, “that means I missed something even more important. What is it this time?”
Obreduur laughed and handed a beaker of Kuhrs to Dekkard. “There isn’t something more this time. You’re missing less and less.”
“I’m likely missing more than I should.”
“That’s true of all of us.” Obreduur raised his beaker. “To friends and a pleasant evening.”
“To friends,” replied the other three, not quite simultaneously.
“That was quite a ‘token’ in that basket,” said Obreduur. “Silverhills Red Reserve?”
“Well,” replied Dekkard, “since we’ll never be able to truly repay all we’ve learned, I thought our token ought to be slightly more than token.”
“It was his idea,” said Avraal, “but I agreed, especially after everything, not to mention the loan of certain books.”
“Have you started reading The City of Truth?” asked Ingrella.
“We have,” said Avraal. “We’re reading it together. It seemed better that way.”
Ingrella shot an amused glance at her husband.
“She wagered you would,” explained Obreduur.
“How are you finding it?”
“Provoking enough that I’ll have to reread it,” said Dekkard. “The language is beautiful, but I have to confess I’ve never heard of Averra, and I studied a fair amount of history.”
Ingrella smiled enigmatically. “You need to finish it, and don’t skip to the end, because that won’t answer your question unless you read what’s in between.”
“I thought it might be something like that,” said Avraal.
Dekkard didn’t disagree, but only said, “It may be a while before we finish it.”
“There’s no hurry,” replied Ingrella. “It’s better savored than hurried through.”
“As are many things,” added her husband.
“It has to be rare and valuable,” said Dekkard. “We appreciate your letting us read it.”
“Axel trusted his life to you both for years,” said Ingrella dryly. “I think we can trust you to care for a moderately rare book.”
“I will say,” Dekkard said, “that I’ve never read anything quite like it, but that was the point, wasn’t it.”
Ingrella nodded. “One of them.”
“She seldom has a single point or objective,” said Obreduur. “I learned that very quickly.”
“Almost not quickly enough,” Ingrella replied playfully.
“I definitely understand that,” said Dekkard.
“Unlike many men,” commented Avraal.
“As a woman and an empath,” replied Obreduur, “you would know.”
Ingrella turned slightly to Avraal. “Have you decided what to wear to the Council’s Yearend Ball?”
Avraal looked to Dekkard.
Dekkard shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know there was one.”
Ingrella then looked to her husband.
“The reminders will go out tomorrow. We have been a little busy.”
“When is it?” asked Dekkard.
“It’s always the evening of the last Quindi of the year,” replied Ingrella. “It’s held in the Council Hall building. They turn the main corridor outside the councilors’ dining room into a ballroom of sorts. Each councilor can invite one other couple, and only one couple.”
“What about just one person?” asked Dekkard, thinking of Emrelda.
“That’s fine,” replied Obreduur. “The invitation is only good for a single couple or a single individual.”
“If I might ask,” said Avraal, “how formal an occasion is it?”
“There’s no requirement—” began Obreduur.
“In practice,” declared Ingrella, “it’s as formal as you can manage. There are no exceptions to the one additional invitation per councilor. Invitations are coveted. Even corporacion presidentes can only come by invitation. Ministers and their spouses are invited, but they don’t get additional invitations. The Imperador is invited, always, and he always regrets, but he gets two additional invitations. Occasionally, over the years, someone from the Imperial family has attended.”
“For those few such as I,” asked Dekkard, “is deep gray formalwear acceptable?”
“Absolutely!” declared Ingrella.
Obreduur smiled and nodded.
“Is any color of gown frowned upon?” asked Avraal.
“I was going to mention that,” said Ingrella. “It’s never spoken of, and a few wives or women accompanying single councilors have been—discomfited—but brilliant scarlet would not be the best choice.”
“The Scarlet Daughter?” asked Dekkard.
“Since it’s a long-standing custom,” replied Ingrella with an amused smile, “no one has ever spoken of it to me, but I’d surmise that there might be some connection.”
“Just scarlet, or most bright reds?” asked Dekkard.
Both women just looked at him.
Dekkard got the message.
Ingrella turned back to Avraal. “Men often forget that we need time to prepare for such events.”
Obreduur flushed and said, “The reminders and the additional invitations will be sent by messenger to every councilor tomorrow.”
“Thank you, dear,” said Ingrella, adding to Avraal, “I’m certain you and Steffan will look stunning. You have excellent taste.”
Dekkard got that message as well.
The conversation returned to a lighter mode for the next third of a bell, when Hyelda appeared in the archway. “Dinner is ready for all you distinguished people.”
“Three out of four, anyway,” said Avraal.
“Four out of four, and you know it.” Dekkard grinned even as he stood, then followed Ingrella and Avraal into the dining room.
There was no blessing, but Dekkard knew the Obreduurs were religious only out of public necessity, as he and Avraal had also become.
Once everyone was seated, with Silverhills white wine in every wineglass, dinner began with a light salad of greens, followed by chicken Suvion, roasted boneless chicken breast filled with a sharp melted Encoran cheese, and topped with a butter basil sauce and accompanied by starburst noodles, also topped with the butter basil sauce, with green beans amandine.
“This is definitely special,” said Dekkard after a single bite of the chicken. “I’ve never had anything like it.”
“It’s new for us, too,” replied Ingrella. “It was in a cookbook that Elyncya Duforgue gave us, and it looked good. I asked Hyelda if she would try it. She said it’s fairly easy to fix.”
“Easy or not,” said Avraal, “it’s delicious.”
Dessert for each person was a slice of orange chiffon cake topped with orange slices lightly drizzled in Goldlund orange brandy. Dekkard didn’t leave a morsel, and neither, he noticed, did Obreduur.
Dekkard finished just savoring what had been an excellent dinner when Obreduur began to speak, his voice pleasantly conversational.
“You might be interested to know that the Imperador definitely knows who you are. He mentioned you when I met with him yesterday after he signed your Security reform act.”
“In what context?” asked Dekkard warily. He wasn’t aware that Obreduur met regularly with the Imperador, but supposed that was a necessity.
“He knew that you’d drafted and championed the bill, and he knew the circumstances of your being selected as councilor. He wanted to know how you managed it.”
“What did you tell him?” Dekkard smiled pleasantly. “That Gretna Haarl insisted on me to keep you and Jens’s choice from becoming councilor? Or was Jens your choice?”
Ingrella offered an amused smile, while Obreduur chuckled, then said, “You’re right on both counts. But I didn’t tell Laureous that. I just said that the district party had made up its mind, and it would have created lasting hard feelings to ignore their choice in a district that we barely won. He understood.”
“He may not have understood that rejecting you would have eventually undermined Axel,” added Ingrella.
“Especially with women?” asked Avraal.
“That was a consideration,” said Ingrella.
Meaning that it was a strong consideration. That meant Dekkard owed Gretna Haarl even more than he’d realized. In turn, that definitely meant they’d have to go to Gaarlak before long.
“Fredrich mentioned your concerns about the Commercers’ amendment to extend the implementation of transferring Special Agents. You’re right about that, but there are political considerations. He also mentioned your interest in pursuing the dunnite issue, and your suggestion for inquiring about a certain report. I suggested he make the inquiry. Even if the report turns out to be spurious, as it well might, do you think that’s wise right now?”
“Wise? I don’t know if it’s politically wise. If what I suspect is so, it’s absolutely necessary.”
Obreduur sighed softly, but not theatrically. “I thought it might be something like that.” Then he smiled wryly. “I’ve learned that it’s not a good idea to disregard your suspicions. What is it that you suspect?”
“That certain Commercer interests, quite possibly Northwest Industrial Chemical, or even Suvion Industries, indirectly provided the dunnite used by the New Meritorists in order to create a greater threat to law and order in Guldor as part of the effort to strengthen the Ministry of Security and give Commercers even more power over prominent Crafters and Landors.”
“I’ve wondered about that, but it seemed a stretch even for Ulrich.”
“It is rather interesting,” said Dekkard, “that he’s now an associate vice-presidente of Suvion Industries, which is the other major producer of dunnite besides Northwest.”
“Interesting, but it doesn’t prove that he’s involved, only that the likelihood is greater.”
“Speaking of Ulrich,” said Dekkard, “I ran across something interesting. You may recall that he was very interested in the night heliographs used by the Navy. Apparently, some smaller business designed the heliographs, then ran into contractual difficulties, and was bought out by Siincleer Engineering. The heliographs work fine, but the installations were behind schedule with significant cost overruns.”
Obreduur frowned. “Siincleer Engineering? Are you looking for information on them?”
“No. I have someone looking into possible instances where large corporacions lost bids to smaller corporacions, that then suffered strange reversals that resulted in the large corporacion getting the contract or taking over the smaller business—if not both.”
“That’s not something that the Council’s likely to be able to do much about, not through legislation.”
“I’ve thought as much,” replied Dekkard. “But I’ve thought it might be interesting to see how much more the government ministries ended up paying as a result of such occurrences, particularly if there happened to be an ongoing pattern of ‘unfortunate circumstances’ only befalling smaller competitors.”
“That might better be handled by the Justiciary.”
“I’d definitely agree with that, sir, once there’s evidence to pursue, as has occurred in the cases of former Minister Wyath and acting Minister Manwaeren.”
“He does have a point, Axel,” said Ingrella, with a smile that was definitely mischievous. “And you did say that too many Craft councilors tend to be overly cautious.”
Obreduur’s laugh was both amused and rueful. “I suppose I deserved that.” He paused. “I appreciate the insights and initiative you have both demonstrated, but I have to caution you. Trying to change a Commercer subculture that has dominated Guldoran politics for more than half a century will take time. Trying to change it overnight will create as much unrest as the New Meritorists, if not more.” He held up a hand, as if to forestall any objection. “I understand. Not changing it will also doom Guldor. Picking which changes need to be made first is critical, and you were right in picking Security reform. That goes hand in hand with the prosecution of Wyath and Manwaeren and the prosecution of Special Agents who clearly exceeded their authority.”
“Then what do you think is the next priority?” asked Avraal.
“To implement the Security reforms as the first step in dealing with the New Meritorists.”
What if they don’t want to deal? Dekkard decided against asking the question, and said instead, “That could be a challenge.”
“But necessary.”
Dekkard nodded.
“Now that you two have decided the priorities of the Council, just how many mysterious books do you have?” Avraal asked Ingrella. “Ones like that banned history or rare ones like The City of Truth?”
“She has only a few shelves like that,” said Obreduur. “The rest are more normal histories, legal commentaries, and more than a few novels.”
For the next bell or so, the conversation revolved around books, and it was close to the second bell of night when Dekkard backed the Gresynt down the drive and headed west on Altarama toward Imperial Boulevard.
“You didn’t want us talking any more politics. Was that making Obreduur uneasy?”
“Not so much Obreduur as Ingrella. I think she has some doubts about his priorities. Also, I don’t think it’s in your interest for him to know everything you have in mind.”
“You’re right about that,” agreed Dekkard, “especially since matters aren’t going to work out the way he wants. Not with the New Meritorists, particularly if they’re being supplied by Commercer interests. I have to wonder if they didn’t get the semi-automatic pistols from Commercer sources as well.”
“How could you trace that?” asked Avraal.
“I have no idea, but Carlos Baartol said that one shipment from Atacama was on a barge on the Rio Doro. At the time, I didn’t think about it, but the word ‘shipment’ suggests more than a few pistols.”
“That’s another reason why you need to keep your own counsel more now,” said Avraal.
“Our counsel,” corrected Dekkard.
“Thank you.”
Dekkard was more than happy to get to the house and garage the steamer. Unadi would come too soon, and he had no idea what the day might bring—if anything—other than the routine of correspondence, reading, and meetings and worrying. And then there was that comment by Ingrella about possible food shortages. And, unfortunately for his banque balance, there was also the need to purchase formalwear.