WHILE reading from The City of Truth kept Dekkard from worrying too much, or at least reducing his worries enough for him to get to sleep, he woke early on Unadi and was in the breakfast room while Emrelda was still eating. Without a word, she handed him the morning edition of Gestirn.
Still standing, he immediately began to read.
In a series of Findi afternoon raids in cities across Guldor, Security Ministry Special Agents targeted individuals suspected of involvement in the Summerend New Meritorist demonstrations. Early reports suggest that more than three hundred individuals in ten Guldoran cities were arrested and incarcerated. Reports also suggest that, as a result of armed resistance, close to sixty individuals were wounded in the operation, and twenty-three are known to be dead.
Seven Special Agents were wounded, two fatally. Special Agents also searched more than a hundred business properties in the operation …
… the head of Special Agents could not be reached for comment …
Dekkard lowered the newssheet, shaking his head.
“You thought something like this might happen,” said Emrelda.
“I did. I tried to disband and transfer the Special Agents as quickly as possible, because I worried about something like this.”
“I thought I’d go in early,” said Emrelda as she stood and moved to the sink in the kitchen, where she quickly washed and racked her mug and plate. “I might find out more.”
Avraal walked into the breakfast room wearing a robe, followed by Gaaroll. “How bad was it?”
“Raids in ten cities,” replied Dekkard. “Three hundred suspected Meritorists incarcerated, sixty shot, more than twenty killed. A handful of Special Agents wounded, several killed, and more than a hundred small shops searched. So much for peaceful Security reform.”
“Those friggin’ bastards,” muttered Gaaroll. “Never liked the Specials.”
“Does it say who ordered the raids?” asked Avraal.
“The head of Special Agents couldn’t be reached for comment, according to the Gestirn story.” There’s something wrong …
“But they knew how many had been shot and arrested?” Gaaroll snorted.
As Gaaroll spoke, Dekkard recalled what he’d been trying to remember. Frig! “The Special Agents are under the director of special projects, who reports directly to the Security minister.”
“With Manwaeren removed as acting minister, that means no one’s really been supervising them,” said Avraal.
“It’s not likely. I should have thought of that,” replied Dekkard.
“No. Obreduur should have,” said Avraal.
Dekkard shook his head. There were just too many aspects of the shift in power in the Council that neither he nor Obreduur, or the newly appointed ministers, knew enough about. That was hardly surprising, given that there hadn’t been a meaningful shift in power in decades, if not longer.
Dekkard was still worrying over it when he eased the Gresynt out of the garage and down the drive toward Florinda Way. “Do you sense any strong feelings anywhere?”
“No, sir. Not even next door,” replied Gaaroll. “That’s good.”
“One small thing that seems to have gone right,” said Dekkard quietly.
The drive to work was uneventful, although Dekkard doubted that would last once he was in his office. He noticed that a few more Council Guards were posted around the entrance to the covered parking and the Council Office Building.
Roostof, not surprisingly, was waiting in the anteroom when Dekkard, Avraal, and Gaaroll entered.
“I assume you saw, sir?” said the senior legalist.
“The Gestirn story on the Special Agents? I did. I suppose it was too much to hope for a peaceful Security reform. I knew the violence would come after the act became law. I just didn’t expect it to come from rogue Special Agents. I should have. The act took away their guns and a lot of their power.”
“That was long overdue,” said Luara Colsbaan from the door into the main staff room.
“Part of the problem, Svard,” said Dekkard, “was something you pointed out. There really wasn’t a structure or set of procedures for Special Agents. Manwaeren said Special Agents were in the Office of Special Projects, and the director reported to the Security minister. When Lukkyn Wyath and Manwaeren were indicted and removed, I should have realized that removed most supervision of the Special Agents.”
“Why shouldn’t others have realized it first, sir?” asked Roostof. “Such as Obreduur?”
“Most councilors, maybe all of them, clearly had no idea that there were few, if any, legal or procedural restraints on Special Agents. There was never any mention of it until we brought it up in the Security Committee hearings. We knew that, but I didn’t think about how the Special Agents would react when faced with losing their guns and power, especially with the removal of the top leadership of the ministry. I don’t think Obreduur even knew there weren’t any procedural restraints, because you discovered that after you came to work for me. While the matter was discussed briefly in the committee hearings, I don’t recall seeing it in the summary accompanying the proposal to the floor. The past lack of procedures and rules would have seemed irrelevant since those very people lacking them were transferred to ministries with such procedures.”
“Sir,” said Margrit, “you have a message, and what looks to be a large document from the Premier.”
Large document? Dekkard frowned for a moment, then realized that it had to be his copy of the proposed combined appropriations legislation, which he needed to read and study before debate and possible amendments began before the full Council on Tridi.
“The message is likely from Chairman Hasheem calling an emergency meeting of the Security Committee,” said Dekkard as he turned and took both the small envelope and the much thicker and heavier one from Margrit. He opened the small envelope quickly and read the short message, nodding as he did. “The Security Committee will meet at third bell.” Then he looked to Roostof. “I’m going to go through the correspondence. If you think of anything else I should bring up, just let me know.” Dekkard’s eyes went to Colsbaan. “You, too, Luara.”
“Yes, sir.”
Avraal said, “I’ll be out here.”
“In a moment.” He gestured to his office. “I need your thoughts on a few things.”
Once the two were in the office with the door closed, Dekkard opened the heavy envelope and took a quick look. It was what he’d thought. He set it on the desk and turned back to Avraal. “The committee meeting will be short. You can walk me there and wait, then walk me back and drive to your office at Carlos’s, an office that you’re hardly even in, thanks to my vulnerabilities.” He paused. “Maybe I need to hire an empath so that you can actually work.”
“I’d rather quit working for Carlos. Isobel is about the only other empath who’s as good as I am, and you need the best.”
What she wasn’t saying, Dekkard knew, was that even the best empath might not be good enough to save him.
“Besides, then I’d just worry all the time. I offered to quit last week. I told Carlos I wasn’t earning what he was paying me. He laughed. He told me that keeping you alive was worth every mark.”
“You never mentioned that.”
She smiled sweetly. “I was saving it until you brought up hiring someone. I knew it would cross your mind sooner or later.”
Worth every mark? “Did he say why?”
“Not exactly. I asked. What he said was that you’re more important than you think, and people want access.”
“So people are already paying Carlos to influence me through you?”
“They are, but all he tells them is that he’ll see what he can do. He never even asks me what you’re doing.”
Dekkard couldn’t blame Baartol for taking that approach, and certainly so far, he definitely owed Carlos. And he’s never asked for anything, but sooner or later he might. “Nothing comes without a price.”
“You knew that already.”
“I still think you should see him after the committee meeting.”
“Why don’t we decide then?”
Dekkard smiled wryly. “You’re right. After the committee meeting.”
“And I’ll be outside working with Nincya while you deal with the correspondence.”
“More tips on security and what to look for?”
“It can’t hurt to have her know. She learns quickly, and the more eyes watching out for you right now, the better. Besides, she’s caught up on the filing. Margrit’s letting her practice typing when her machine isn’t being used. The way the number of letters is increasing, that might help, too.”
“Did you mention this to Svard?”
“You mean, did I ask him? No. I told him what I just told you. He agreed.”
Dekkard laughed softly, then said, “It’s probably better with you two running the office.”
“Probably?” asked Avraal.
“Let me cling to some small shred of illusion about my managerial abilities.”
She grinned. “So long as it’s just a small shred.”
Dekkard winced. Except that she’s right.
“Dear, you’re a doer and a thinker. You’re good at both. That’s what you need to concentrate on. You don’t have to do everything else, and you shouldn’t.”
“I haven’t done the thinking part all that well. I didn’t think through what the reaction of the Special Agents could be.”
“Neither did anyone else. You just have to get on with other matters.”
“It’s hard to think about the other matters. I keep thinking about the fact that I should have realized.”
“You’ve been a councilor a month. Obreduur’s been one for years, and he didn’t see it.”
“That’s not much consolation.”
“How about the fact that it isn’t your job to control the Premier’s ministers and the appointees who work for them? You tried to make the transition as quick as possible so these sorts of things wouldn’t happen.”
“That point helps. A little.”
“Good. You can’t do anything more about it now, and you can take care of other matters.”
“Yes. I’m very diligent with correspondence.”
“Steffan. I’m not fond of either useless self-pity or self-flagellation. You missed something. So did everyone else. Are you the Almighty to be always perfect?”
The iron in Avraal’s voice brought Dekkard up short.
“I should have—”
“Sowshit! If anyone should have seen it, it should have been Obreduur, and I don’t want to hear any more. You’ve been more accurate than anyone, but you’re not perfect, and you’ll kill yourself trying to meet that expectation. All you can do now is learn from what happened.”
Dekkard swallowed. After a long moment, he said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Avraal smiled sweetly, but her voice was cool. “You can still go through the correspondence.” She turned and left the office.
Dekkard just sat there for several minutes. He’d never seen Avraal so angry. Have you been that difficult? Or is “useless self-pity” something that really angers her? Or is it useless self-pity in you? Or are you getting hung up on what you didn’t foresee and going over and over it? He glanced toward the door. Likely all of them.
After another few minutes, he picked up the top letter and began to read. He had to reread it twice, because he wasn’t concentrating. He still had to force himself to concentrate on the next letter.
Given the likely subject of the Security Committee meeting, Dekkard didn’t want to be late, and at a third before third bell he opened his office door.
Avraal looked up from the small table desk where she was writing something.
“I thought we should leave a little earlier.” Then he turned to Margrit. “I finished reading through everything on my desk. If you’d give it all to Svard.”
“Yes, sir,” said Margrit pleasantly.
Avraal stood.
Dekkard wished he knew what she was feeling, but she looked perfectly composed, as she almost always did. Is she still angry with me? Or my excessive self-pity? He said nothing until they were out of the office and no one was nearby. “You were right. I still think I should have seen what might happen, but, as you so accurately pointed out, I’m not perfect and never will be. You were also absolutely right about the futility of obsessing over my failure. I am sorry.”
“So am I,” she said quietly, reaching out and squeezing his hand gently. “You’ve done so much, and you’ve done it well. It just made me so angry that you were beating yourself to death over something that no one else foresaw. Especially when they have so much more experience.”
“They have experience in reacting. None of us have experience in anticipating the reaction to what we do when we’re in power. Not even Obreduur.” Dekkard smiled wryly. “That’s something else that I just realized. It also shows how much anger we’re facing in trying to undo what the Commercers have done. That’s something we need to think about in the weeks and months ahead—who’s going to get angry and about what. If you could think about that as well, I’d appreciate it.”
“I can do that. And thank you for asking.”
Dekkard thought Avraal was no longer angry, but, not for the first time, he wished he knew how she really felt. But then, she likely feels the same way. He reached out and took her hand, holding it until they headed down the main staircase.
It was slightly more than a sixth before the bell when Dekkard left Avraal at the door to the committee room and entered. Haastar, Navione, and Baar were already there, and Pajiin appeared only moments later.
The older Craft councilor immediately took his place beside Dekkard. “Did you know anything about those raids? Before, I mean?”
“No. I’m guessing that no one besides their director did, either.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Every Council appointee senior to the director is in gaol.” Dekkard might have said more, but Rikkard entered the chamber with an expression Dekkard felt reflected poorly concealed smugness. “We can talk later.” He regretted those words even as he spoke them, since he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anyone after the meeting. Later could mean much later.
Hasheem took his place at the center of the dais, and, even before the third chime, rapped the gavel and declared, “This meeting will be an open discussion of the Special Agent raids of yesterday. Just so you are all clear on the matter, the Premier did not authorize the raids. They seem to have been ordered by the director of special projects, Stuart Jebulon, without informing the Premier. At present, Jebulon’s location is unknown.
“From the information I received from the Premier this morning, it appears that the Special Agents conducted raids in Machtarn, Oersynt, Ondeliew, Uldwyrk, Kathaar, Neewyrk, Port Reale, Siincleer, Nolaan, and Jaykarh. They arrested and incarcerated almost four hundred presumed New Meritorists for no reason other than being suspected of harboring sympathies. Even possessing a copy of the Manifesto of the New Meritorists was considered proof of being a lawbreaker. Also, some sixty were wounded, and some of those died overnight. The total number of dead is now over forty.”
When Hasheem finished, he remained silent for almost a minute, before saying, “That is essentially all I know.”
“How many Special Agents were wounded or killed?” asked Rikkard.
“As I told you, Councilor, four were killed, three wounded.”
“I just wanted to make sure, Sr. Chairman.”
“Are there any other questions?”
“Were all the raids in larger cities?” asked Haastar.
“If there were others, the Premier is not aware of them.”
“Was the acting minister aware of the raids?” asked Navione.
“It appears that he was not.”
After almost a minute when no one else asked any questions, Hasheem asked, “Do any members of the committee have any constructive suggestions?”
“The committee should commend the Special Agents,” Rikkard immediately said.
“Commend them for a rather excessive use of force?” asked Haastar. “They killed or wounded more than sixty people in order to arrest four hundred.”
“Those Meritorists wanted Security reform. We gave them that,” returned Rikkard. “It wasn’t enough. They started agitating to destroy the Council and the Great Charter. They got what they deserved.”
“I’ve seen the Specials call loggers New Meritorists when the poor men didn’t even know what a Meritorist was,” declared Pajiin. “Likely half of those they arrested or killed weren’t Meritorists at all.”
While Dekkard definitely agreed with Pajiin, he hadn’t expected the other to have spoken up so strongly.
“The Special Agents know. They always know,” declared Rikkard.
“Like you,” murmured Pajiin.
“Sr. Chairman,” said Dekkard politely when no one else appeared likely to speak up, “until the reform of the Security Ministry takes effect, Special Agents remain under the authority of the director of special projects. I suggest that the committee issue an order for him to appear before the committee to explain the basis for the raids by the Special Agents—preferably as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Councilor. Are there any other suggestions?”
“Sr. Chairman,” offered Villem Baar, “I second Councilor Dekkard’s suggestion.”
Baar’s support initially surprised Dekkard, but then he wondered if Baar wanted to use a hearing to exonerate or justify the raids.
“Without hearing from the director,” Baar continued, “the Council has no way of knowing whether he exceeded his authority, or whether the action was justified by the evidence and circumstances. The possibility also exists that the action was justified, but the way in which it was carried out was not. The committee and the Council need that information.”
“Very well. Although Councilor Dekkard did not offer that as a motion, since you seconded it, Councilor Baar, I will take the suggestion as a motion and ask for a vote.”
The only vote against the motion came from Rikkard. That didn’t surprise Dekkard.
“The business of the committee having been completed,” declared Hasheem, “the meeting is concluded.”
Dekkard remained in his seat for several moments, thinking over Baar’s support, and realizing that if the director of special projects didn’t show up and couldn’t be found, the blame would conveniently fall on the director, and it would be even more difficult to root out any connections between Commercers and the New Meritorists, if they existed. Dekkard remained convinced that there had to be such connections. But what if there aren’t? That also was a possibility, but then how had the New Meritorists obtained all that dunnite?
He stood and made his way to the back of the committee room, where Avraal waited just inside the door.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“About the implications of what happened in the committee.” As they walked back toward the courtyard doors, he told her what had happened and his subsequent thoughts.
“I think you’re right. Jebulon is either fleeing and hiding on his own, or someone’s paid to get him out of Machtarn.” Avraal paused. “He has to be out of Guldor already. He likely left on a foreign freighter or passenger liner last night.”
“I could send a message to Obreduur suggesting that Treasury might check the passenger manifests of any vessels that left Machtarn yesterday or early today to see if anyone who might be Jebulon was aboard. That is, if Treasury hasn’t already done so.”
“No more than that.”
“And Gaaroll could run it over to his office.”
“That would be best,” said Avraal as they stepped out into the noticeably cooler air of the courtyard and onto the covered portico that led to the Council Office Building.
“Are you still upset with me?”
“No. I wasn’t really angry at you. Well … maybe some.” She paused. “I was mostly just angry. I was angry because Obreduur and Hasheem positioned you to write the Security reform act. I was angry because they gave you no guidance. I was angry because that meant the Commercers would attack you, when you were really doing what they had in mind. I talked to Isobel and Erleen. No one’s even come close to attacking Obreduur or Hasheem. And I was a little angry at you for blaming yourself when you did so much for them—as if all the things that happened were your fault.”
“When you put it that way … I’m sorry. I knew they were setting me up, but someone had to do it. I’m a good choice. I just didn’t think the reaction would be that violent. I also didn’t see how much more strain that put on you. You didn’t want to tell me about it, either, because I’d just get more worried, but that also must have made you angry. And I’m sorry about that, too.”
She stopped and looked at him. “Given just a hint … you see so much. I forget…” She shook her head. “You know, I checked with administration. You’re the youngest councilor ever.”
Dekkard smiled ruefully. “A truth wrapped in a compliment. I so often manage to act with the judgment of a slightly older man that you forget how young I really am.”
“I admit it. You have more judgment and maturity than most men ten or fifteen years older.”
“Not maturity. I have intelligence and training, and they help, but … sometimes, there’s just no substitute for maturity, and that’s when I make mistakes, I suspect.”
“You don’t make many.” She smiled warmly at him. “I’ll take you as you are.”
Dekkard wrapped his arms around her for a long moment, even as he realized he had a very long appropriations measure to study, and he needed to think about what the New Meritorists might do next.
Not that there’s likely much you can do about it.