WHEN Emrelda got home on Quindi, the three decided that, after services, they’d all go to Elfredo’s for dinner, since no one wanted to cook, and since they hadn’t been in a while. Presider Buusen’s homily was not unreasonably long, and not especially theological, dealing as it did with the subject of trust, and how trust was the basis for both faith and society.
Dekkard wasn’t so certain about trust as the basis for faith or religion, but he’d definitely seen what untrustworthy individuals could do to undermine government.
After a cheerful dinner at the taverna, they returned home, where the four settled in the sitting room and discussed the day’s events, after which Dekkard and Avraal repaired to their bedroom. Although Dekkard wondered how he’d sleep, he was so tired that, when he woke on Findi morning, he said, “I don’t remember falling asleep.”
Avraal smiled sheepishly. “Neither do I.”
“Yesterday wasn’t that hard physically, either,” Dekkard pointed out.
“But it was emotionally hard, with the news, the lunch with Ingrella, and your interview with Guard Captain Trujillo.”
“That’s true. What should we do today?”
“As little as possible that’s stressful.”
“Then we should enjoy breakfast.”
“Go take your shower.”
Dekkard smiled, but he got up and headed to the bathroom, where he quickly showered, careful to leave enough warm water for Avraal, since it wasn’t any warmer than Quindi morning had been, and then dressed and headed downstairs, wearing an older, gray shirt and trousers, and a dark gray sweater his mother had given him when he’d started to work for Obreduur. Both Emrelda and Gaaroll sat at the breakfast room table.
“There’s a short story about the death of Jaime Minz and a very nice article about Ingrella becoming a councilor,” said Emrelda.
Dekkard picked up Gestirn. There was nothing new about Minz’s death. He turned to the story about Ingrella.
NOTED LEGALIST SUCCEEDS HUSBAND AS COUNCILOR
The Craft Party chose the noted legalist Ingrella Irsian Obreduur as councilor to replace her late husband, Premier Axel Laurent Obreduur. The Premier was killed earlier this week in the attack on the Council Office Building. The new Councilor Obreduur has been distinguished by her success as a legalist, particularly in successfully litigating cases expanding the rights of women in the workforce …
The story went on to list several of her more notable cases, most of which, Dekkard had to admit, shamefully, he’d never heard of. Even so, he couldn’t help but smile as he replaced the newssheet on the side table and went into the kitchen to get cafés for himself and Avraal. After carrying those out to the breakfast room and placing them on the table, he went to fetch croissants.
By the time he had the croissants, and his most necessary quince paste, on the table, Avraal had seated herself and was reading the newssheet. When she set it aside, she took a sip of café, then another, before she spoke. “That was actually a good story about Ingrella. Except for the part about Axel’s death, it was all about her accomplishments, rather than his, with him as a footnote.”
Dekkard couldn’t help wondering how the story had been portrayed in the Tribune, most likely picturing her as a dangerous legalist whose legal career had been based on forcing corporacions to pay unreasonable wages, “unreasonable” never being defined, but being understood as equal wages for women.
“I’d wager that the Landors don’t pick a woman to replace Quentin Fader,” said Emrelda.
“Did you know him?” asked Dekkard.
“No, but I’ve never heard of a woman Landor councilor. Even the Commercers had one or two.”
“Two,” replied Dekkard. “Both wealthy and unmarried.”
“The Craft Party isn’t much better, dear,” said Avraal. “Unless I’m mistaken, out of the four women who are Crafter councilors, the only married one is Traelyna Treshaam.”
Dekkard almost pointed out Ingrella, before realizing that Ingrella wouldn’t have ever sought election while Axel was alive, unless he’d been in office long enough to be forced to stand down. And now she’s not married, if not by choice. “You’re right. We do need to do better.”
“Try to avoid Axel’s example, dear,” added Avraal with a mischievous smile. “It’d be a waste. I can’t succeed you.”
Because you’re an empath. That was just another reminder for Dekkard of the barriers for Avraal. Empaths couldn’t be elected officials or ministerial appointees, while isolates could, but neither could appear as legalists in legal proceedings, although there was no prohibition on meeting with clients or writing briefs or other legal documents.
“Would you really want to be a councilor?” asked Emrelda. “With all you’ve seen?”
“No, but I’d like to see more women. Even ones like Kaliara Bassaana are preferable to about half the Commercers and two-thirds of the Landors.”
“What about the Crafters?” asked Emrelda, with a smile that was almost evil, Dekkard thought.
“Most of them aren’t that much better. I just happened to be married to one of the few that is.”
“About the only one,” murmured Gaaroll.
Both Avraal and Emrelda laughed.
So did Dekkard.
At that moment, there was a knock on the door, followed by the chime of the door pull.
“I’ll get it,” said Dekkard, rising from the table and walking to the front door.
When he opened it, he saw a messenger in the gold and black of Guldoran Heliograph standing there. “Yes?”
“I have two secure messages. One for a Ritten Emrelda Ysella-Roemnal and one for a Ritten Avraal Ysella-Dekkard.”
“You have the right place,” said Dekkard.
“I’ll need some verification of identity.”
“Just a moment. I’ll get them.” Dekkard walked back halfway to the breakfast room and called, “Emrelda! Avraal! You each have a secure message. The messenger needs something to verify you are you.”
Dekkard walked back to the door and stood there for what seemed several minutes before both sisters appeared. Emrelda presented a patroller badge and a patrol identity card, while Avraal presented her Council credentials. The messenger didn’t even blink. Then each had to sign a log sheet. In turn, each received a thick envelope.
Once the messenger left and Dekkard closed the door, he said, “That’s strange. I’ve heard of secure messages before, but I’ve never seen or received one. Where are they from?”
“Sudaen,” said Avraal, with an indrawn breath. “I hope there’s no problem.”
“Surely, we would have heard sooner if something had happened to someone,” finished Emrelda.
“I wouldn’t wager on that,” said Avraal. “I actually got that letter from Mother a little over a week ago. I’ve never had two letters from her in a month, let alone two letters in successive weeks.”
“Let’s go into the study,” said Emrelda quietly, almost fearfully, Dekkard thought.
Once the three were in the study, Emrelda and Avraal exchanged glances.
Then Avraal said, “I’ll go first.” Taking a letter opener from the desk, she slit the large envelope, only to find two envelopes inside, one bulky, and one clearly a letter.
Dekkard looked over her shoulder, but the letter envelope was addressed to Avraal, and the return address was from Sudaen. The bulkier envelope only bore her name.
Avraal opened the letter and began to read. Her eyes widened, and she turned and held the letter so that Dekkard could read it as well.
Dear Avraal,
I’m so sorry that my initial response to the announcement of your marriage was less than enthusiastic. It did take us very much by surprise, since you’d only mentioned Steffan as a solid and brilliant man with whom you worked. You neglected to mention just how brilliant and accomplished when you said that he was an excellent security specialist.
Your father and I have come to realize that you were never meant to follow the path we have. What we have been slow to understand was just how much you have accomplished and how much more you and Steffan have already accomplished together.
You may recall Balthasar Haastar. He’s somewhat older than your father, but they’ve been friends for years. It turns out that his younger son is the councilor from Brekaan. Balthasar sent us several clippings about you and Steffan’s accomplishments, because young Breffyn said that you hadn’t even seen them, and certainly wouldn’t have been able to let us know. Apparently, even Emilio Raathan and Patriana were also quite impressed.
The lines about the Raathans also reinforced for Dekkard just how tightly the old Landor families were connected, even over long distances, but then Georg Raathan had known who Avraal was just by her name.
Because it’s clear that your destiny does not lie in Sudaen, or likely anywhere close, the enclosed bond is your wedding gift. Knowing you and reading about Steffan, I’m sure you’ll use it wisely.
Our Love,
There were two signatures.
Dekkard read it again, then looked at Avraal.
She swallowed. “You open it. I’m afraid to.”
Dekkard understood. The bond could mean anything, from an effective dismissal to a belated acceptance. He took the letter opener and carefully opened the envelope, extracting the heavy paper of the elaborately printed document. As he read it, his eyes widened, and he handed it to Avraal. “It’s definitely safe to read.”
She read it, twice, then looked to Emrelda. “Yours should be safe to open.”
Both Dekkard and Avraal waited as Emrelda read her letter, then opened the second envelope. She shook her head, as if unbelieving, then handed the bond to Avraal.
Dekkard took in the numbers. Each bond was to a sister, and each was for fifteen thousand marks.
Avraal looked to Dekkard. “I think it’s safe to make arrangements to go to Gaarlak over the Midwinter Recess.”
“I just wish…” murmured Emrelda, her eyes bright.
Dekkard understood that unspoken wish. Late is better than never, but there’s still a cost. Sometimes a terrible one.