Fortuna

by E G Manetti

  For the first time in two years, Chrys is grateful for Nickolas. He and his friends will not fail to mention this display to their warrior friends, or that Lilian is under the protection of Adelaide’s Prelate. It may be a small sect, but as the Lord Prelate, Apollo holds a seat on the Governing Council. Added to Monsignor Lucius’ protection, Lilian is safer than she has been in years.

  “Truly, Lord Prelate, we are looking forward to the Duet.” Lilian smiles at Apollo, the rare sight further lifting Chrys’ heart. Pulling her hands free of Apollo’s, she adds, “We must continue now. We have yet to honor Socraide, and we are expected at Sinead’s pavilion well before the Duet begins.”

  As they leave the alcove, Nickolas says, “That was an exceptional devotion. I understand why you admire the designs of Adelaide’s Prelate.”

  “It is but a shadow of what the Duet will offer.” Lilian is bright with enthusiasm. “You should not miss it.”

  “We will be in Jonathan’s pavilion,” Nickolas agrees. As they exit the shrine, he adds, “We part here. We are counterclockwise and must honor Sinead and Rimon.”

  For all Nickolas’ aid at last year’s festival, Chrys is glad to see his back. Even when the protégé attempts to be pleasant, he is far more likely to wound Lilian than aid her.

  The Shrine of Socraide Omsted is not the largest in the ring, but it is the most opulent. Patron deity of the Mercios and by extension the Blooded Dagger Cartouche, the First’s Shrine is on the receiving end of generous donations. The extra time in the alcove has given the crowds a chance to build. The complement must wait half a period before being shown to a secondary devotional area, where Douglas is almost perfect in his homage to Socraide’s Discipline. Chrys promises himself a training chamber match with the other apprentice.

  »◊«

  The shrine pavilions ring the central platform at the base of the amphitheater in the same order displayed in the warrior ring. Behind the pavilions, the meadow slopes upward and offers a view of the stage over the pavilion covers. Although it lacks nearly a bell until the Duet, the hillside is dotted with picnicking groups. Leaving the trees at the base of the meadow, Chrys runs an assessing eye over the area, looking for trouble and finding none. Next to him, Douglas grunts in approval.

  At Chrys’ questioning glance, Douglas shrugs. “Even were Lilian not unaccountably alarmed, after last year’s near disaster, I am wary of the festival crowds.”

  Oblivious to any potential threat, Katleen darts down the path around the display platform to the peridot- and silver-draped pavilion of Sinead’s Shrine. With a grace that hides the quickness of her pace, Lilian follows Katleen, flanked by Rebecca and Clarice.

  “Go.” Douglas nods at the fleeting figures. “I will take the following place.”

  Moving after the women, sweeping his eyes from right to left, Chrys leaves Douglas to trail the group and guard their backs. Although sworn to different Cartouches, Chrys finds common cause with Douglas. They are from similar backgrounds, and both have had their expectations of Cartel service radically revised by the trim figure in black hovering protectively over her sister.

  As Lilian and Katleen reach the safety of the pavilion, Chrys increases his stride, reaching the entrance as Douglas reaches his side. The pavilion is empty but for the two acolytes who have come forward to greet Katleen.

  “Katleen, how was the ring? Did you pipe for Sinead?”

  “Crowded,” Katleen replies to the first acolyte. “The offerings will be good.”

  “Katleen’s devotion hushed the shrine,” Rebecca replies to the second, moving up to place a hand on Katleen’s shoulder.

  “As Lilian’s did in the alcove.” Chrys steps as close to Lilian as stricture permits.

  When Lilian went to be consecrated, the Garden Center alcove keeper was unwelcoming and sent Lilian to the River Quarter. It gives Chrys no end of pleasure to see her favored by Adelaide’s Prelate.

  At Chrys’ words, both acolytes turn to Lilian. Before Lilian can speak, Chrys states, “She performed a short Duet with Lord Prelate Apollo.”

  At his words, the acolytes exchange an indecipherable glance, but Chrys detects no surprise. He knows that Sinead’s Shrine is circumspect in its support of Lilian’s household. The seer’s stipend is well within stricture and barely covers the cost of her maintenance. Any suggestion that Sinead’s Shrine is easing Lilian’s trial will see it forfeit. Apollo Acacia, as the Lord Prelate of Lilian’s sect, has a great deal more license. Even the Governing Council cannot interfere in spiritual matters.

  “We should take refreshment to our places,” Lilian says, motioning at the buffet. “In a quarter bell, the pavilion will fill, and we should be out of the way.”

  Hungry, eager to find their promised places, the group fills several plates to share and gathers water vials. Lilian waits until last, lingering by the entrance. Plate in one hand and water in the other, Chrys follows her gaze. Sinead’s pavilion is almost directly opposite Socraide’s.

  “What think you, Chrys?” Lilian asks, nodding at the opulent box front and center of Socraide’s pavilion. “I will be in Monsignor’s line of sight. Is the thorn a transgression?”

  “If you were within the same pavilion, without question,” Chrys says slowly, thinking through the complexity of apprentice stricture and custom.

  “It is Monsignor’s will that I carry it within Serengeti, as long as we are not in the same chamber.” Lilian fingers her thorn. “For a consecrated warrior to go before the Shades unarmed is a transgression against the Shades.”

  “Without warrior status, is it the same offense?” Chrys asks. The nuances of warrior custom are every bit as esoteric as apprentice custom. Chrys has little understanding of the first and is well aware of the danger posed by the second. “I think Lord Prelate Apollo will forgive the thorn’s absence. Will Keeper Virgil find its presence an offense?”

  “If not him, another.” Lilian sighs. “So be it.”

  Pulling her thorn from her belt, Lilian tucks it in her satchel. Squaring her shoulders, she offers a stiff smile. “Let us join the others and enjoy our meal.”

  »◊«

  The Fourth Warrior’s pavilion is the largest of the five surrounding the display platform. At the entrance, Nickolas discovers that Adelaide’s Sect has reserved the section he favors—on the east side nearest Socraide’s pavilion and Lucius. It is the traditional location for Adelaide’s Sect, but in ten years, it has never been thus. Adelaide’s prelates and devoted were always intermingled with Jonathan’s. Lord Apollo is exerting his influence in unexpected ways.

  “No wonder it was so hard to get places,” Jamal remarks, following Nickolas into the central section. “Adelaide’s Prelate is full of surprises.”

  “The prelate favors Lilian,” Nickolas murmurs as they claim their seats. “As she is Monsignor’s apprentice, I wonder how that will affect the attitude of Lord Gideon.”

  “Interesting thought,” Jamal responds, well aware of the tension between Lucius and Gideon, if not its source.

  “What is interesting?” Fletcher asks, ushering Bri into a seat and then his brunette.

  Unwilling to lie to Fletcher, and even more unwilling to answer, Nickolas scans the gathering crowd, avoiding a response. On the far side of the display dais, a flash of color catches his eye. There is no mistaking that bright red head at the forefront of Sinead’s pavilion. Gesturing with his glass, Nickolas points out Katleen. “Lilian and her friends are in there somewhere.”

  “No question,” Fletcher agrees. “They will not leave that child unguarded after last year’s brawl.”

  “Who is that with the shrine keeper?” Jamal asks, noting the resemblance between Katleen and a prelate in peridot. “Is that the seer?”

  “Yes,” Nickolas confirms, having met Lilian’s mother in the aftermath of the festival brawl. “That is Lady Helena.”

  “Lady?” Bri startles. “I thought they were all discredited.”

  “Lady Helena is Sinead’s Seer,”
Nickolas explains. “As Shade-ridden, she is outside of stricture. She retained her warrior status when the Grey Gyres were ruined.”

  “What of the little girl?” Bri asks. “Is she a warrior or fallen along with her sister?”

  “Fallen,” Fletcher replies. “As a minor, she remains a Faesetili and under the protection of Sinead’s Shrine. Once she reaches her majority, she loses the claim on her warrior ancestry and the Faesetili name.”

  “Sinead’s Keeper may be hoping for another seer,” Fletcher’s brunette says thoughtfully. At the glance from her companions, the woman shrugs. “It is known to run in families. Mistress Lilian clearly lacks the gift. Although, she must be well established in her faith to be on such terms with Adelaide’s Prelate.”

  Before Nickolas can pursue that thought, Socraide’s Shrine Keeper and Adelaide’s Prelate mount the display platform to begin the devotions that precede the Duet. Katleen’s bright red head disappears into the upper levels of Sinead’s pavilion.

  »◊«

  The Duet is exceptional. Chrys is not an expert, but the reenactment of the duel between Socraide and Adelaide keeps him riveted. He is not alone. Within the pavilion, there is very little of the mingling and gossip that develops with a well-known entertainment. Even more telling, the often rowdy crowds filling the amphitheater and meadow remain orderly and engaged. Having seen Lilian with Apollo, Chrys cannot help but think the Duet Adelaide is lacking.

  “Mistress Lilian is a better Adelaide,” Douglas murmurs at an interlude, echoing Chrys’ thought.

  “I doubt the acolyte has ever used a blade in battle,” Rebecca puts in. “She makes it look like a toy.”

  “The Duet pair had but a few sevendays to prepare,” Lilian defends the performance. “And Lord Apollo’s design is unique.”

  “It is riveting,” Clarice agrees. “I have seen naught like it.”

  The Duet resumes and conversation ceases. When it completes, there is a brief, hushed silence followed by thunderous applause. As the applause fades, Sinead’s pavilion empties onto the pathway around the display dais, where the crowd lingers to gossip.

  “It will be some time before the meadow clears,” Lilian says as they make their way from the back of the pavilion. “We may as well remain for a while.”

  “The acolytes are putting out more refreshments,” Katleen adds hopefully.

  “As you please,” Lilian agrees. “Leave some cakes for the others.”

  After a brief stop at the refreshment tables, rather than return to the benches, they linger outside the entrance of the pavilion, discussing the merits of the different routes through the park and back into the Garden Center.

  “Could we visit a few of the stalls?” Katleen pleads.

  “Katleen, it is not wise for us to be caught up in the crowds,” Lilian says. “You know they will grow increasingly unruly as the day advances.”

  “But is barely past third bell!” Katleen argues.

  “If we use the path past Socraide’s Shrine Quarters, it will take us through the north end of the stalls but not into the heaviest crowds,” Douglas suggests a compromise.

  “Lilian, there you are!” Apollo’s voice slices through the discussion. “What think you? Did you enjoy the Duet?”

  “Lord Apollo, it was exceptional!” Lilian steps away from her friends to greet her instructor. “The addition of the short sword in the third sequence was inspired.”

  “A matter of necessity.” Apollo leans in conspiratorially. “The Adelaide lacked the ferocity to be believable with a thorn.”

  Chrys’ snort of vindication turns to a cough when he catches Apollo’s attention. Apollo’s beaming smile encompasses the entire group, lingering on Chrys and Douglas. “Lilian, will you make me known to your festival complement? There was not time at the alcove, and I would be known to such gallant combatants.”

  With the formal introductions, Lilian is able to indicate to Apollo that her friends are all apprentices. None will be free to join in festival Duets, or anything else, for some time to come.

  “Master Douglas, you would make a most excellent Socraide,” Apollo exclaims. “Will you consider it when your bond proves? I am certain Virgil will be pleased to have another Socraide for the rituals.”

  “Lord Prelate, I am flattered.” Douglas smiles even as he shakes his head. “Truly, even free to take on such a commitment, I would not do so. I prefer my devotions to be a private matter.”

  “Pity, pity. Well, there is time. Mayhap I will be able to persuade you otherwise.” Turning to Lilian, Apollo pursues, “What of the other two from the brawl? They were with you earlier. I would know them as well. Are they near?”

  “I believe they were in Jonathan’s pavilion.” Lilian steps into the pathway scanning the crowd and the pavilion on the far side of the display dais. “I cannot say for certain.”

  “Lilian.” Apollo’s voice takes on a hard note. Turning back to the prelate, Lilian finds his frowning gaze fixed on her waist, or, more precisely, her belt. “Where is your blade?”

  Honor acts as duty commands. Lilian knew Apollo would not be pleased. “It is in my satchel, Lord Prelate.”

  “Your satchel?” Apollo snaps.

  “Monsignor Lucius is a scant twenty paces hence in Socraide’s pavilion.” Lilian leaps to her justification. “I may not be armed in Monsignor’s presence.”

  “Lilian, that thorn is not a mere weapon.” Apollo’s outrage gathers force. “It is a shrine relic, and you are Adelaide’s consecrated. It is not to be hidden away during the rituals.”

  “I beg you, Apollo, do not,” Lilian pleads, hoping to halt the rising gale. “I am bonded. I dare not flout the strictures.”

  “You are Adelaide’s consecrated,” Apollo insists, his brows lowering. “Lucius Mercio has no voice in it. It is a shrine matter.”

  “I am not a free warrior!” Lilian cuts in, appalled at the thought of a confrontation between milord and Apollo. “I beg you, embrace the apprentice. Release the warrior, as I must. Only ill will come of it should you not.”

  “Lilian?” Chrys’ voice comes from her left. To her right, Rebecca is standing with her hands on her hips, glowering at Apollo. Close behind them are Douglas and Clarice, their posture radiating distrust.

  Whether it is her friends’ silent reproach or her words, Lilian is not certain, but Apollo’s indignation drops away, replaced by chagrin. “Lilian girl, forgive me.”

  With an apologetic smile, Apollo lightly grasps Lilian’s shoulders. “I would give lip service to your bond but not true respect, for I dislike it greatly. I love you well, and I will do better. As your bond permits, come to the alcove. You will be welcome.”

  Releasing her shoulders, Apollo gestures to her friends, “As will all your complement. If you or your friends require aught, you need but ask.”

  With a small bow, Lord Prelate Apollo takes his leave to greet Jonathan’s Prelate.

  »◊«

  “Lucius, how is it Lilian is known to Adelaide’s Prelate?” Estella’s voice draws Lucius away from his conversation and his attention to the group at Sinead’s pavilion.

  Glancing over at where Apollo is greeting Lilian, Lucius is pleased to note that someone had the wisdom to keep Lady Helena’s daughters tucked away in a discreet and well-guarded corner for the Duet. “He was alcove keeper at Mulan’s Temple and one of her instructors for a time.” Lucius smiles at his spouse. “Remind me to relate to you the story of Lilian’s dedication.”

  “Papa, there is Master Nickolas,” Elysia interrupts, her dark eyes snapping with excitement. Other than Lucius’ dark eyes and a hint of olive in her complexion, Elysia is a miniature of her mother with delicate features, golden-blonde hair, and a figure that is gaining grace as Elysia gains inches. “There, with Master Fletcher and the woman in Rimon’s colors.”

  Repressing a smile at Elysia’s ongoing infatuation with Nickolas, Lucius beckons his protégé. Elysia can safely practice flirting with the handsome young warrior, leaving Es
tella free to relax until the crowd thins enough for an easy departure.

  “What think you, Raphael, will it be another brawl?” Cesare’s voice drags Lucius’ attention from his daughter.

  “Brawl with a Lord Prelate?” Raphael replies. “She is an apprentice.”

  “What say you?” Lucius demands.

  “Mistress Lilian.” Raphael gestures toward Sinead’s pavilion, where Lilian is squaring off against Apollo Acacia.

  “She is defying the Lord Prelate,” Cesare says in shocked tones. “I would not have thought it permitted.”

  “It is, if the Lord Prelate wishes something improper, Master Raphael.” Virgil, Socraide’s Keeper, enters the conversation.

  Demon shit. Lucius recognizes the distress in Lilian’s stance. He is not pleased that his instincts have proven correct. Another shade from Lilian’s past is creating difficulty. Before Lucius can send Nickolas to intervene, Lilian’s friends close ranks behind her. Their intent to defend her is unmistakable. In moments, it becomes certain that the Lord Prelate is standing down. The group begins to break up.

  “Virgil, why think you the Lord Prelate wishes something improper of Mistress Lilian?” Lady Estella wonders, shooting a glance to Lucius.

  Lucius has no trouble interpreting that glance. If Virgil’s interest in Lilian signals a renewal of the prelate’s vituperative attacks, draconian steps may be required.

  “It would not be the first time, Lady Estella,” Virgil says slyly. “The Lord Prelate is difficult to deter from his purposes and not always sensible. This is the second occasion Mistress Lilian has stood that whirlwind down.” Speculation enters Virgil’s voice as he adds, “I would learn the way of it, or the next two years will prove a severe trial.”

  The shrine keeper is not about to begin his vendetta anew. His interest is in using Lilian to his benefit. Lucius cared neither for the keeper’s vitriolic attacks on his apprentice or the implied criticism of Lucius’ will. Let the man squirm on a hook of his own making. With a dark smile, Lucius says, “Virgil, you will need to find your way with the Lord Prelate without Mistress Lilian’s aid. My conservator’s duties leave no portion for shrine politics.”