There was an orderly in there cleaning up but, again, he just nodded at him, then walked into the shower room, pulling the towel off and hanging it on a hook before turning on the water.
The water took forever to get hot, but at that it was still better than anything Harzburg had had for a long time. There was a sliver of soap on a ledge and he used it liberally including on his hair. The latter was starting to get long again and it was about time for a cut. But that, at least, would have to wait. By now the duke would have heard he was back. He turned off the shower and grabbed his towel, heading back to his room.
In the main bathroom there was a row of spigots spilling water into a concrete trough with a long metal mirror mounted over it. Herzer paused by it to survey his face. He'd had hair-growth on his face stopped prior to the Fall so he didn't have to worry about five o'clock shadow. His hair was a tad long, starting to touch his ears at least, but it would pass inspection. Only the Blood Lords conformed to Gunny's remarkable standards of personal grooming.
He headed back to his room and began donning a fresh uniform. It was a tad loose—he'd lost weight on the Harzburg mission along with everything else—but it still fit well enough. Cosilk underpants and shirt, gray cosilk trousers and the kimonolike overtunic. The latter's lapel and trim was in light blue, from time immemorial the color of infantry, and there was a blue stripe down the outside of the trousers. Blue for the infantry, yellow for cavalry, green for the archers and red for engineers. He stopped before putting the tunic on and pinned the two pips of a lieutenant to the lapel. He looked at it for a moment, then shrugged.
"Might as well go full blast," he muttered, opening up the footlocker and extracting a small leather box. From it he pulled a device like a shield, which he pinned on the left upper breast of the kimono. Below it he pinned four medals. The one on the uppermost row was a representation of a gold laurel. The three on the row below were a silver eagle, wings outspread, another shield, formed in bronze and pair of crossed swords.
As soon as the medals were arranged to his satisfaction he slipped into the kimono and belted it with his sword-belt. He picked up his sword, gave it an automatic check, and slipped it onto the belt. Normally the weapon sat high on his right side, attached to his armor but he'd spent so much time in both configurations either one was relatively comfortable.
He stepped out of the room and down the corridor to the main entrance.
"If anyone asks for me I've gone to report to Duke Edmund," Herzer said as he headed for the double doors at the front of the building.
"Yes, sir," the charge of quarters replied. He was reading something and didn't look up.
Herzer paused and turned on one heel. "That's the sort of thing you're supposed to write down, Private," he growled.
"Yes, sir," the private replied in a much more focused voice. He opened his ledger and reached for the quill standing in an ink bottle.
Herzer nodded at him, then turned and walked out the door.
* * *
"Come," Sheida said at the door chime.
Her aide Harry Chambers came in, followed by a tall, thin, dark-haired man. He could have been anything from thirty to two hundred. He had an expression of slightly distracted amiability on his face as he nodded at the council member.
"Joel Travante," Sheida breathed. "Welcome. Most welcome, sir. Sit, please. Harry, if you don't mind?"
"Not at all," Harry said, stepping out and cycling the door shut.
As the door shut the man in the float chair changed subtly. Whereas he had been smiling, the smile dropped from his face to be replaced by a blank, hard mask, and his languid pose, while not shifting a millimeter, dropped away. He went from seeming to be a nice, simple, professional to something that looked more like a drawn sword.
"How are you?" Sheida asked, nodding at him, hard. "Where have you been?"
"In the Asur Islands, ma'am," the inspector said, sitting forward and nodding back. He had a deep, baritone voice and his eyes were blue and cold.
Prior to the Fall, the world had had little crime. With nearly infinite wealth, personal protection fields and the availability of semilegal means to fulfill even the darkest fantasies, there was very little opportunity or need to cause it.
There were, however, individuals who for various reasons committed offenses of one sort or another.
Given that people could live any sort of life they desired, it required an odd person to commit crime, especially particularly vicious and predatory crimes. And with a life of luxury, it required an even odder person to devote their life to finding criminals.
But just as there were persons who could not resist breaking laws, there were others who had something in them that drove them to search, find and just as often destroy the worst of the criminals. These were the Council Inspectors. There were very few of them, no more than a hundred in the year prior to the Fall, and most of them worked part-time. But among them there was an elite, the Special Inspectors, who had powers nearly equaling those of the Council. And Inspectors only got to be Special Inspectors by both having a long career of tracking down the worst of the criminals and by showing exemplary conduct doing it.