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Duadi32 Winterfirst 1267
DEKKARD glanced out the carriage window at the ironway station platform, the predawn darkness only dimly lit by the tall gas lamps, then back toward the slender but trimly muscular black-haired woman sitting beside him on the dark blue velvet seat. “Well, Ritten Ysella-Dekkard, how does it feel to embark on the next major event of our life?”
“We’ve had enough major events already, dear,” she replied in the slightly sweet tone that suggested he was edging toward a spoutstorm.
“Buying a house together in Gaarlak will be a major domestic event,” he replied in a tone he hoped was conciliatory, “not a catastrophic one like the shelling of the Council Office Building.” And the assassination of the Premier. The man who had given him the chance to become a councilor—and to meet Avraal. If only … but who could have foreseen the method of the Meritorist attack?
Avraal shook her head. “I’d never thought we’d end up where we are.”
“I certainly never expected to be a councilor, or to be married to an empath who’s descended from ancient royalty,” Dekkard replied wryly.
“Everyone’s forgotten about the kings of Aloor … except my father and brother.”
The first-class steward, wearing a deep blue uniform trimmed with silver piping, strode down the center corridor, saying, “The express will be leaving immediately.”
Less than a minute later, a steam whistle sounded, and with a slight jolt, the carriage began to move.
Since there was little to see through the wide window, at least not clearly, Dekkard studied, as best he could in the dim light, the wooden paneling, a dark stained cherry, rather than the yellow cedar, or even the older black walnut. “I think the paneling in this carriage is the new cherry, most likely from dowry lands Jareem Saarh sold to Guldoran Ironway.”
“He’ll end up losing everything in the long run, and I wouldn’t care in the slightest, except that it wouldn’t be fair to Maelle.”
“At the Yearend Ball, he did say that she was likely running the lands better than he could.”
“He believed it. I could sense that,” replied Avraal. “For her sake, I hope he was right … but he’s been wrong about more than a few things, like getting together with Palafaux and Schmidtz.”
“Exactly, and I have the feeling that that trio has something else planned.”
“No doubt connected to Ulrich and Siincleer Shipbuilding. Speaking of those two … do you think Ulrich might have been the one behind that story in the Tribune?”
“Our most honorable former premier, who likely ordered the assassination of his devoted former aide to keep anyone from tying corporacion aid to the New Meritorists? How could you possibly believe that?” Dekkard’s voice dripped with sardonicism.
“I don’t feel that sorry for Jaime Minz, not after the times he tried to get others to kill you, and his funneling explosives to the New Meritorists. But still … he did all of Ulrich’s dirty work, and Ulrich or one of his cronies just disposed of him like that, and no one’s even looking at Ulrich.”
“Guard Captain Trujillo is, but there’s no hard evidence,” Dekkard pointed out. “Just like with Lamarr’s and Decaro’s deaths. I still wonder about how much Jens Seigryn was involved with Decaro’s death.” Thinking of the Craft Party political coordinator for the Gaarlak district, Dekkard couldn’t help but shake his head. “I wasn’t the one who schemed to make me councilor instead of him. That was Gretna Haarl, and I didn’t even know about it. Jens had to know that.”
“I’m not sure that will make him any happier. I don’t like it that you had to use him to organize tomorrow’s breakfast meeting with all the guildmeisters.”
“What else could we do? We don’t have much choice, not with so little time, especially since he’s the Advisory Committee’s representative in Gaarlak, in addition to being the Craft Party coordinator.”
“I still wish there had been another way, without involving him.” Avraal frowned. “I’ll be carrying my knives, and so will you.”
“All the time now. I did bring my personal truncheon, in case it appears necessary.” He smiled wryly. “It may be that the safest place I’ll be is at Plainfields on Findi afternoon.”
“It was kind of Emilio and Patriana to invite us for an early dinner.”
“I suspect he wants to hear about the Landor councilors we both know. Patriana may not miss his being a councilor, but I suspect he does at times.”
After a short silence, Avraal said, “How do you think Nincya and Emrelda will get along?”
“Without us there, you mean? They’ll do fine. Nincya respects your sister, and she’s enough of an empath that she can sense if something’s troubling Emrelda, and Emrelda’s direct without being overbearing. If you want to worry about something, worry about whether we can find a decent house in the right place.” Dekkard shook his head. “I just hope that the property legalist that Namoor Desharra recommended understands our particular situation.”
“Our limitations, you mean?”
“I know your parents gave you that personal bond, but…” I don’t want you using it all, even if we do have to buy something in Gaarlak because I’m a councilor.
“Stop feeling guilty. Part of the reason they sent it was because I married a man whom they could brag about, rather than avoid talking about.”
“As in,” Dekkard continued in an archly haughty tone, imitating an arrogant Landor, “‘Avraal did marry a councilor of the Sixty-Six, not quite the same as a Landor heir, but given that she’s an empath, she did quite well’?”
Avraal tried … and failed … to hide a sardonically amused smile. “You did that rather well … almost like Cliven.”
Dekkard winced.
Avraal laughed, then leaned over and kissed his cheek.
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