“I’m sure.”
From there they followed the hallway to the pantries, the kitchen, and the staff wing. It took another hour before they reached the last room of their tour—the study opposite the foyer where they had entered. A table desk faced the wide windows. The entire wall behind the desk was composed of built-in wooden bookcases, and every shelf was filled with the antique books. A book lay open on the desk.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in one place, not even in the museum in New Oisin,” murmured Emily.
“It is a museum, and it looks as though they’ve re-created the way it was just before Byrnedot was killed.”
“That’s right. It’s just as he left it when he went down to speak to the assembly,” offered the guide from the doorway into the foyer. “His wife closed the room and never disturbed a thing.” He turned away to greet another group that had entered the mansion from the front veranda. “You can get the best idea of what Cliff Spire is like if…”
Van walked over behind the desk, leaning forward over the velvet ropes, and straining to see the last entries in what had to be a diary or journal.
…15 Sextus…there is nothing to be done, but to try once more to persuade them to look to the future, and not to the past. We must all live in the same Galaxy, no matter what our background and what our appearance. In the end, none will rule over those who do not wish it so. I have tried to make Gotland a world where there is less oppression and more justice than anywhere in the Argenti sphere…and my success may be my undoing. We shall see.
The writing ended.
Van straightened, nodding to himself. He could see how what Byrnedot had written could have been interpreted to favor the cause of Scandyan secession, but, based on what Colonel Marti had said, the alternative made even more sense. Once more he was reminded how people saw what they wished to see.
Was he seeing what he wished to see? He didn’t think so, because he really didn’t have a bias about the past history of Gotland. His bias was just trying to make sense out of it all, but then, maybe that was an even greater prejudice than ideology.
“What are you thinking?” Emily’s voice was quiet.
“About history. About how even the best and most able have difficulty in combating shortsightedness and greed…and how it never changes.”
“That’s…depressing.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll have to make it up to you somehow.”
“That’s a proposition. Is it decent or indecent?”
“It has to be decent,” Van replied, as they stepped back into the entry foyer, momentarily empty. “We don’t know each other well enough for it to be otherwise.”
That brought a smile to Emily’s eyes and mouth.
They began to walk down the green stone staircase toward the lower level path that would take them back to the carpark.
“What now, Commander?”
“A good meal. Do you have any suggestions?”
“One or two.” A twinkle flashed in her gray eyes.
Van laughed. “I’ll drive. You navigate.”
“I’ll accept that bargain.”
For the first time in days, Van was enjoying himself.
Chapter 16
On oneday, after a thankfully quiet eightday, not much past midmorning, Van found himself with two Scandyan constables in his embassy office—Constable Lieutenant Rolfes and Constable Sergeant Bentssen. Technically, Van could have refused to have met with them, especially since he’d been the assaulted party, and diplomatic precedent was more than clear on the right of a diplomat to self-defense, a precedent hammered out over millennia of bad examples.
After almost an hour of questions from the lieutenant, Van was beginning to believe he should have refused to meet with the pair.
“…and you cannot think of any reason why these men of good background would have decided to behave as they did?” Rolfes asked.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I’d never met any of them. I’ve only been in Valborg for two weeks, and most of that time has been spent here at the embassy trying to catch up on what wasn’t done after my predecessor’s death. I was wondering…have you discovered anything new about the three?”
“So far there’s been little progress on that front,” Rolfes replied. “Now…about the third man…was it necessary to use the degree of force you employed on the third man?”
“I think I’ve answered that question about three times, Lieutenant,” Van replied tiredly. “I was unarmed. They all had weapons. I was just trying to survive. I did not use lethal force.” He paused, and then added, “It took your incarceration to kill them. I certainly had nothing to do with that. What I wanted to know, and what I still want to know, is any information about why those three had set up an attack on me. I’ve also asked that question at least three times, and you, unlike me, have given no information at all.”
“We really don’t know, ser,” Rolfes replied politely.
“I think that translates into something along the lines of your having some information, not knowing what it means, and keeping it to yourselves until you can make sense of it.”
Rolfes stiffened.
“I’m a military man, Lieutenant. I’m not a diplomat. I’ve been patient. I’ve answered all your questions to the best of my ability. I’ve answered all of them at least twice, sometimes even four times. You’ve answered almost none of mine. I’d like to point out, once again, that I was the one attacked. You have witnesses to that. You even have some street surveillance images that bear that out. Yet you seem to be acting as if I were the guilty party, as if it were my fault that I was attacked.”
“Ser…I don’t believe—”
“It’s not what you said, Lieutenant. It’s the way you’ve proceeded. Might it just possibly be because my skin is a few shades more to the bronze? Or is it because the Taran Republic cannot bring as many cruisers into your section of the
