by E G Manetti
“Have you finished?” Milord nods at her slate.
Finished? Her notes for this conference. Of course.
“Yes, milord.” Lilian obediently hands over the device.
Milord’s lips twitch as he glances at her slate, where two dozen cryptic symbols summarize almost a period of discussion. Turning the slate to his spymaster, milord remarks, “Imagine if we had had this during the pirate actions.”
»◊«
Carefully positioned with her back to a wall, Lilian scans the courtyard, searching for the source of her unease. There is naught. It is likely as Master Malcon claimed, someone’s fleeting notice triggering her vigilance. Willing away the uneasiness that dogged the short stroll from Serengeti to the art museum, Lilian turns her attention to Chrys.
The bright blue sky is dotted with fluffy white clouds, the temperate day perfect for outdoor dining in the art museum café. The café is set in the corner of the courtyard, defined by large pots of mixed flowers set around the small tile tables. At one end, a small buffet offers a limited but excellent lunch within apprentice means.
It is not often that Lilian is able to exit the Cartel for her midday meal. The ruby studs sparkling in her earlobes signal that for a few days, nature has rendered her unavailable for carnal activities. As much as Lilian regrets the loss of milord’s attentions, she cannot regret the timing. For this conversation, Lilian wishes no interruptions and no monitors. Focusing on her companion, Lilian explains, “I know not what Master Raphael has done to find himself on the wrong side of Monsignor’s will. I am not likely to inquire. It is enough that he is to spend the dry season laboring in the fisheries. Aid him, if you can.”
“Aid him how?” Chrys questions in stunned confusion. “Do you believe Monsignor’s son in danger?”
“No, of course not.” Lilian shakes her head. “Fisheries Master Diana will surrender a body part before she permits harm to come to Monsignor’s son. Many of the fisheries’ retainers have children Master Raphael’s age who spend the dry season processing crustaceans. It is not an entertaining occupation, but it is safe enough.”
“Then what?” Chrys demands, spearing a slice of meat.
“Truly, Chrys, you may be able to do naught.” Lilian sighs, chasing a bean across her plate. “It is only that I know what it is to be on the wrong side of Monsignor’s will. However well justified, it is unpleasant at best. You have always been so wise and helpful. Should you encounter Master Raphael while visiting the Mercium plant with Seigneur Rachelle, call on your wisdom. It will be well.”
“Your faith in my abilities is flattering, if not warranted.” Chrys snorts. “I have no more desire to be on the wrong side of Monsignor’s will than any other. Are you certain Monsignor wishes you to interfere in this?”
“Yes, but not from instruction,” Lilian admits. At Chrys’ frown, she attempts to explain nuances she understands from her warrior upbringing and not specific stricture. “Monsignor’s properties are vast, yet he sends Master Raphael to the fisheries where I am conservator and Seigneur Rachelle is routinely present to oversee Mercium development. Truly, it is not happenstance.”
“Monsignor controls Blooded Dagger,” Chrys challenges. “There are many who would take care of a wayward son for a season.”
“Yes and no.” Lilian struggles to find the words to explain the intricacies of warrior relationships that she absorbed with the alphabet. “Seigneur Marco is well trusted, but he is both a Cartouche retainer and a family member. While he would accept Master Raphael, it would incur a significant honor debt.”
Honor debts within warrior society are a serious matter, the customs complex, subtle, and intractable. The nature of the relationship, master to retainer, preeminence to cartouche member, makes the debt heavier when the higher ranked requires a favor. A favor as intimate as tending another’s child incurs serious long-term obligations.
“I do not understand the bond between Seigneur Rachelle and Monsignor,” Lilian continues, “but it is similar in nature to the bond with Seigneur Trevelyan. Honor-debt customs do not apply, as they cannot with Monsignor’s apprentice.”
Chrys holds up a hand to halt Lilian’s discourse while he swallows. “You are telling me that Monsignor wants his son protected without actually asking for protection?”
“Yes, you have it.” Lilian nods delightedly. “By the nature of our duty to Monsignor, Seigneur Rachelle and I are expected to offer aid as needed for no other reason than that it is our duty.”
At Chrys’ scowl, Lilian deflates. “It is not your duty, Chrys. If this troubles you too greatly, I withdraw the request.”
“Peace, Lilian.” Chrys relaxes his scowl. “I know not what a technologist from a Ninth System agrarian family can possibly offer a scion of the Cartel preeminence. Nonetheless, can I be of use, I will be.”
Chrys thinks it unlikely that he will encounter Raphael, let alone be of assistance. If his promise will ease Lilian’s concern, though, it is easily enough given. Thinking of his own family, Chrys has a sudden, stark image of his mother’s reaction to such discipline of one of her children. “What think you? Is Lady Estella content with this?”
“Monsignor would not take such action without Lady Estella’s agreement,” Lilian says reassuringly. “She is a most formidable warrior.”
“Truly?” Chrys says skeptically. He has difficulty reconciling his image of a pampered art museum patron with the ferocity Lilian suggests.
“Lilian nods emphatically. “Truly. Although it is difficult to confirm, my research suggests that while Monsignor went to fight the pirates, it was Lady Estella who kept the Cartel in order.”
“What say you?” Chrys sputters. “Lady Estella appears too delicate to fend off a cat, let alone Sebastian Mehta’s intrigues.”
“I invent it not,” Lilian huffs. “And it is quite likely, given the history.”
“History,” Chrys echoes, struggling to grasp the notion that Monsignor Lucius’ gracious wife might be more than she appears.
“You do not know the history?” Lilian says in surprise. “The background is well known.”
“Among warriors, mayhap.” Chrys shakes his head ruefully at the evidence of Lilian’s singular background. “You must offer this story. I have shared many tales with you.”
Pushing aside her plate, Lilian nods. “Lady Estella was the most sought after lady of her time. Lovely and elegant, the lady was also acknowledged as extremely clever and quite devious. Lady Estella’s family, while it has diminished in size, was renowned and quite wealthy. Most of the Mercio and Blooded Dagger holdings in agrarian interests come from Lady Estella’s family, as do the iron mines and foundries on Troy.”
“The fisheries?” Chrys questions. Interesting if those retainers look to Lady Estella’s bloodline and not Monsignor’s.
“No, those have always been Mercio holdings,” Lilian replies. “As are the citrus plantations. But all the First and Fifth System agrarian holdings came with the marriage.”
“We digress.” Chrys pushes aside the discussion of Mercio wealth. It is simply too vast to comprehend. “Back to the story of Monsignor and Lady Estella.”
Swallowing tea, Lilian resumes her tale. “By Lady Estella’s thirty-third year, the lady had rejected wedlock alliances from five suitors of high estate. It was rumored Lady Estella’s father despaired of her. Given her late father’s reputation, it took a very formidable young woman to withstand his pressure to wed.
“When Monsignor encountered Lady Estella, Monsignor was determined to wed her. There are a number of rumors about the courtship. I know not which are true, although I well believe most of them. Monsignor had only barely passed his twenty-fifth year. Monsignor’s father, Tiberius, then the preeminence of Blooded Dagger and Serengeti, considered Monsignor too young to wed.”
“I have heard it is uncommon among the elite to wed prior to thirty.” Chrys nods his understanding.
“It mattered not.” Lilian swirls her tea, intent on her tale. “Wit
h five rejected suitors, Monsignor was not about to allow for another. Monsignor defied his father and took Lady Estella to wife. It is said that Monsignor and his father did not speak until Master Raphael was born some four years later.”
Chrys does the math. “Lilian, how know you this? At the time of Monsignor’s courtship, you would not have passed more than your fourth year.”
“It was much discussed as I was growing up.” Lilian shrugs. “They were seen everywhere together. Do you not recall I recognized Lady Estella when we were here last dry season?”
Remembering that day, Chrys nods. The museum patrons had passed them on their way into the restaurant proper. Chrys had been astounded, and a little intimidated, that his fellow Raven knew Monsignor’s spouse.
At Chrys’ nod, Lilian completes her tale, “I understand that they were less in public after Monsignor was elevated to the preeminence of Serengeti. But by then, I had been gone from Metricelli Prime for several years.”
“Somehow, it seems strange to think of Monsignor as a young man in love,” Chrys says thoughtfully. Although Chrys has never completely embraced the notion that warriors are somehow superior to commoners, the rulers of society have always been beings apart. That they might share commoner sensibilities seems strange. “And I had not thought warriors wedlocked for love like commoners.”
“It is rare,” Lilian agrees. “I suspect that is why the tale was so popular.”
As Chrys watches, Lilian’s countenance lifts and a slight smile appears. “Chrys, could either of us have imagined at that first meal here that being Monsignor’s apprentice would prove to be better than being the protégé of Monsignor Sebastian?”
It is a stunning thought. Chrys could not have imagined it any more than he could have imagined Lilian’s relaxed expression, which is so far from the stoic countenance that shielded her fear and anger when they met. The odds against her were overwhelming. Nonetheless, she has survived and somehow managed all manner of unconventional success. Smile turning to a grin, Chrys declares, “Lilian, I am beginning to believe that your purpose in the universe is to make the unimaginable, imaginable.”
At Lilian’s questioning glance, Chrys laughs. “I can voice with certainty I would never have imagined being tasked with comforting the son of one of the most powerful warriors in the Twelve Systems. Nor would I have imagined successfully intriguing against a Cartel governor to rescue an apprentice, or uncovering counterfeiters, or creating synthetic Vistrite.”
“Nor I,” Lilian admits, swallowing the last of her tea.
“You attract anarchy in the manner a sweets tray attracts insects,” Chrys adds, ignoring Lilian’s discomfort. “Somehow Order prevails, for as you noted, we are here and Martin is not.”
From his words, Lilian knows that it does enter Chrys’ mind that his compassion and willingness to aid a beleaguered young woman has contributed to these. To him, they are unrelated matters.
“Chrys, you could be a Universalist with those thoughts.” Lilian’s discomfort turns to amusement. “I wished I owned such ability. I do not. For every event you cite, there were many who aided the result.”
With these words, Lilian collects her things and rises. “The period is passing, and we must return to the Cartel.”
4. Adelaide’s Prelate
The collected and annotated records of the defeat of Anarchy and the rise of Order became the Five Warrior Canons. Dedicated to preserving the Five Warriors’ legend, archivists congregated to share their records and resolve canon conflicts. By the early decades of the second century, the Shrine centers emerged. By the third century, these became the warrior sects and the warrior rings. Each sect is led by a senior prelate, who is honor bound to take residence at the seat of the warrior’s sect on the Warrior’s home world.
The single exception is Adelaide’s Prelate. As Adelaide was honor bound to both the Fourth Warrior and the First Warrior, Adelaide’s Sect is closely tied to both. Adelaide’s Prelate maintains residences on both Metricelli Prime and Socraide Prime. Rotating between the two systems on a two-year cycle, Adelaide’s Prelate honors Adelaide’s dual allegiance and pivotal role in the founding of Order. ~ excerpt from The Foundations of Order, a scholarly treatise.
Sevenday 90, Day 2
Tugging lightly on the small gold post that replaced the red eargem this morning, Lilian steps across the scarlet threshold to the sound of the eighth-bell chimes.
“How is it you are known to Adelaide’s Prelate?” milord greets her from behind the ebony desk, curiosity and irritation mingling in his voice.
I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian has not met the conservative prelate. Whatever goes forward, it is a misunderstanding of some sort. Lilian uses the short walk to milord’s desk to regain her composure and formulate her response. “Milord, I am not acquainted with Lady Prelate Judith.”
Milord’s eyes hood in speculation. “There has been a change. The current Adelaide’s Prelate is Apollo Acacia.”
Delight replaces Lilian’s bewilderment. “Apollo is the Lord Prelate? I had not heard, milord. Yes, we are known to each other. He was alcove keeper on Mulan and one of my instructors.”
Milord’s lips tighten into a hint of a frown. “The Lord Prelate requests you call upon him at Adelaide’s Alcove two sevendays prior to the Warriors’ Festival on matters of faith. As I recall, you referred to him as ‘a man with an unconventional mind.’ More intrigue from your past, Lilian?”
For a moment, Lilian is confused, and then she takes milord’s meaning. The last two men from Lilian’s past to visit Crevasse City were Lilian’s former lovers, and they brought her naught but grief. Milord need not be concerned. Apollo would prefer to lie with milord. Do not voice that. “I should not think so, milord. The Lord Prelate does not favor women.”
Although Lilian’s tone is deferential, Lucius suspects his apprentice may have the temerity to be laughing at him. No, she would not dare.
Lucius would like to refuse the request. There is nothing improper in it. Lucius’ disquiet comes from experience. To date, shades from Lilian’s past have routinely brought the woman into peril. It matters not; Lucius’ authority over his apprentice does not extend to spiritual matters. He has no grounds to refuse. As Lord Patron of the Third System’s First Warrior’s Sect, Lucius has more than sufficient influence to deal with Adelaide’s Prelate should it become necessary. “You may attend the Lord Prelate as he requests.”
»◊«
The lure of the pleasant weather has drawn those who can afford it to the myriad outdoor cafés, leaving the fountain café half full and making it easy for Lilian and Chrys to claim a prime table. Initially disappointed that milord did not demand her midday attendance after five days of abstinence, Lilian embraced the opportunity to spend midday with her friend. Sixth bell and milord’s penthouse will come soon enough.
“There you are!” Rebecca dances up to the table, tray in hand. “Is there space for one more?”
“Well met, Rebecca.” Chrys rises and pulls an empty chair from an adjoining table, crowding it into the small table meant for two.
“Thank you, Chrys.” Rebecca settles into the chair. “Will you join us at the river cafés this Settlement Day? We wish to hear the details of Troy.”
“Of course,” Chrys says with a nod, returning to his seat and his meal.
“The true story,” Rebecca insists. “Not the dry reports for the archives.”
“Katleen is eager to make plans for the Five Warriors’ Festival,” Lilian adds.
“Should we devise plans for another brawl?” Chrys teases. The prior Warriors’ Festival, Lilian’s friends aided her in protecting Lilian’s young sister, Katleen, from assault by a group of drunken warriors. Lilian does what she may to shelter Katleen from the despite engendered by their sire’s foul criminality. She is not always successful.
“Plans to avoid a brawl would serve us better,” Lilian counters. “Adelaide’s Prelate participates this year. The Duet should be exceptional. I do
not wish to miss it again.”
“Well met, Conservator. Do I hear plans for another festival brawl?” Fletcher Detrenti interrupts with a charismatic smile that turns his pleasing features compelling. His acknowledgement of Lilian’s status as conservator allows her, and those she has with her, to remain seated. Dark-skinned, dark-eyed, and dark-haired, the intrepid moon racer has many admirers within the Cartel. He has no difficultly in clearing the next table with a look and drops into the seat next to Lilian.
Before Lilian can respond, Nickolas drops into the seat opposite Fletcher with an equally charming smile. “What goes forward?”
Since Martin’s assault on Lilian in the Archives, not a sevenday passes without a seemingly casual and public encounter with one of the two warriors. Reluctant to offend the important protégés, lesser-ranked associates are far less likely to insult Lilian than in the past.
“They are planning their next festival brawl,” Fletcher teases.
“Avoidance of one, I assure you,” Lilian asserts. “I prefer to view the Duet this year.” Unable to contain her excitement, Lilian adds, “Lord Prelate Apollo is an expert in the forms. While he was alcove keeper on Mulan, he was often invited to design the Duets for the major warrior rings in the First System.”
“I’ve seen entertainments that reenacted the duel between Socraide and Adelaide,” Rebecca interrupts. “But not a festival Duet ritual. From your words, Lord Apollo must be highly skilled in the design.”
“He is,” Lilian nods enthusiastically, “and with the size of the Garden Center Ring, there will be an excellent choice of Socraide and Adelaide candidates.”
“Why does ring size matter?” Rebecca questions.
“Popular rings in larger cities offer a larger acolyte pool. It is easier to field a competent Socraide and Adelaide with the ideal physical types,” Lilian responds.
Fletcher and Nickolas are nodding. Chrys and Rebecca are confused.
Addressing Chrys and Rebecca, Lilian explains, “In an ideal design, the Socraide should be male and the Adelaide female. There are no strict requirements for body type, but it works best if the Socraide overreaches the Adelaide by several inches.”