Fortuna

by E G Manetti

  “Milord!” Lilian’s awe turns to delight. “It is wondrous. I do not— I cannot—”

  Words failing, Lilian twists in the restraining arm, no longer content to meet a reflected gaze. “Milord, my thanks. I do not— It is—”

  Milord presses a finger to Lilian’s lips, halting the flow of incoherence. Milord’s eyes are dark with the seriousness of his purpose. “Were it not for your courage and loyalty, Grey Spear might yet threaten both Vistrite and Mercium. Possibly Bright Star.”

  At a loss for words in the face of milord’s recognition, Lilian presses her lips against milord’s fingers. Cupping her chin, milord tilts her face to his. Milord’s eyes glimmer with promise. “It is time you tried it on.”

  Tried it on? Oh. Desire resurfacing at the promise in milord’s eyes, Lilian dangles the chain. “If milord pleases?”

  “Mmm,” milord agrees, accepting the chain and releasing her waist.

  Gathering her hair in her fists, Lilian pulls it up and out of the way.

  Milord trails the chain along her torso, between her breasts, and around her neck. The smooth gold slides sinuously across her skin, igniting languid sensations that sharpen with the scrape of the faceted jewels. Looping the strand around her throat, milord demands, “Turn around.”

  Pivoting under milord’s hands, Lilian bows her head, allowing milord access to drag the delicate length gently across her throat and trail the ends between her shoulder blades.

  “Keep your hands on your head.” Milord’s deep tones reverberate down Lilian’s spine, sending shockwaves of heat outward, wrapping her in erotic excitement. Milord’s fingers skim her ribs to find and pluck the tips of her breasts into tight, aching points.

  “Look in the mirror,” milord demands, his hands mapping a path from her breasts to her hips. One hand pulls her tight against him, the hard length of his shaft pressing against her buttocks and lower back. Milord’s other hand teases and tugs the tight red-gold curls guarding her sex before delving between the swollen and glistening nether lips, seeking the tight little bundle of nerves.

  “Milord,” Lilian gasps as those clever fingers stroke and pluck in exquisite torment.

  Milord’s fingers delve deeper, pushing into her sex, seeking and finding that spot milord knows so well. Milord strokes deeply, and Lilian’s knees buckle, her hands clutching for milord, her vision hazing red with delight. With a dark chuckle, milord slides to the floor, using his hands to hold and guide Lilian, spreading her thighs with his as her knees find the floor. “Grasp the chair.”

  Chair? The haze clears and Lilian reaches for the seat of the chair in front of her. Milord moves, shifting her until her hands are braced on the chair, her legs wide and hips arched. Milord’s sex drags through her soaking and heated cleft. Lilian shudders and moans, yearning for penetration, for release. Milord grasps her hip and drives up and in, piercing Lilian, filling her, driving her deeper into arousal. “Milord!”

  The brilliants chain presses lightly into her throat as milord grasps the ends, urging Lilian to rock back against his driving shaft, to take milord deep. The pressure lightens, and milord withdraws and tightens as he thrusts. Soon Lilian finds the perfect rhythm, sinking back against the hard drives into her sex, gliding forward with the withdrawal. Milord’s fingers reach and find her jewel, working in time with his thrusts, until Lilian, shuddering with the escalating waves of desire rippling through her, begs “Milord, please, milord!”

  “Yes, Lilian, yes.” Milord’s guttural cries blend with Lilian’s gasp as he drives them to the pinnacle of bliss and over it.

  »◊«

  The Fortress is the most elite warrior club in the Fourth System. The bright stone, tile, and glass structure built into the side of First Hill appears to hover over the purple waters sparkling with reflected blue and green highlights of the sunset sky. Milord is sparing no expense for the Serengeti reception. With its thriving transport construction industry, Fortuna is a significant source of Vistrite sales, as well as the headquarters for the Serengeti cargo transport leasing interests.

  The club is already full when Lilian follows milord through the entrance. Wearing the beaded gold frock from the Bright Star reception, Lilian has gathered her hair in a soft chignon interwoven with the brilliants chain. The simple but elegant arrangement leaves not a single stray lock to cut the plane of her naked back. Milord’s initial frown at her neckline, bare of his gift, shifted rapidly to approval when Lilian gracefully pivoted to display the arrangement. Milord’s warm hands stroked her back while his lips explored one shoulder. Tilting her head to facilitate milord’s caress, Lilian once again offered fervent thanks for the gift. “You may thank me properly, later.”

  Biting her lip against the recall of milord’s approval and the promise of how this night will end, Lilian scans the crowded chamber, cataloging the important Serengeti warriors of the Fourth System. At a table by the windows, a half dozen warriors rise at milord’s approach. At the center is the Grey Spear distribution seigneur, Okoth Custennin—the highest-ranked Serengeti warrior on the planet.

  Without turning, milord murmurs, “Lilian, you are at liberty to enjoy the reception.”

  With milord engaged with the Fortuna seigneurs, Lilian seeks out Seigneur Okoth’s chief retainer, Senior Associate Graham Tudorian. In his seventies, Master Graham is a forbidding man of average height and husky build with dark wavy hair beginning to gray, a long face with a sloping jaw, thin lips, and small brown eyes that are set close together over a beak nose. The first of his family to win a place in Serengeti, the senior associate has over forty years’ experience in Vistrite logistics and distribution. For all his intimidating appearance, Master Graham is cordial and more than willing to indulge the curiosity of Desperation’s conservator. When he confirms what Lilian already suspected, she is careful to keep her reaction hidden. Milord will not be pleased when she informs him of her suspicions, but there is naught more to be done this night.

  “Mistress Natalia.” Master Graham smiles genially at someone behind Lilian.

  Turning to greet the newcomer, Lilian discovers a young woman approaching her thirtieth year. Cosmetic intervention has softened the once square-jawed face. The once brown curly hair has been lightened to the color of Fortuna’s pale sun in stunning contrast to the smooth, unblemished dusky skin, which, along with a mischievous sense of humor, has always been Natalia’s best feature. Natalia Custennin, Seigneur Okoth’s daughter and heir. Once, Lilian’s friend.

  With an encompassing gesture, the senior associate begins a formal introduction. “Mistress Natalia, permit me to make known to—”

  “We are known to each other, Master Graham,” Natalia interrupts. “Well met, Lilian.”

  The courteous words are as cool as Natalia’s expression. The once familiar generous smile is completely absent.

  “Well met indeed, Natalia,” Lilian returns the courtesy, refusing to allow her voice or expression to reveal the flood of unsettling recall and emotion. Natalia Custennin had been completing her seventh year of study at Mulan’s Temple when Dean Joseph introduced the twenty-five-year-old to nineteen-year-old Lilian.

  Within a year of completing advanced studies, Natalia’s lack of accomplishment in financial analytics was endangering her place as protégé to one of the Grey Spear seigneurs. Isolated by her youth and intellect, Lilian had few friends and Dean Joseph was concerned that nurturing her brilliance was coming at the expense of her social skills. Deciding that Natalia’s expansive nature was a good antidote for Lilian’s seriousness and reserve, Dean Joseph arranged for Lilian to tutor the older girl.

  The plan succeeded. Natalia acquired the skills for her protégé role, and Lilian’s life became more than the University Archives and the Adelaide Alcove. Natalia’s friends were fun and frivolous and pleased to include the brilliant nineteen-year-old in return for her ongoing academic assistance. It was Natalia who introduced Lilian to Damien St. Gervais. Once Natalia left Mulan’s Temple, the two women maintained
a casual friendship that ceased with Remus Gariten’s indictment.

  Natalia is not the first of Lilian’s academic acquaintance she has encountered since the ruin. All have shunned her. Other than Damien, Natalia is the only one she would have termed friend. The sting of Natalia’s rejection is long faded. Their history is awkward now, and Lilian had not expected to find Natalia on Fortuna. As custom dictates, Natalia’s mentor is distant kin and resides in the First System. She is supposed to be on Socraide Prime, where she has been for the past five years. Lilian should have guessed that she would visit while milord, Horatio Margovian, and the other high-ranking Bright Star seigneurs are on planet.

  Master Graham shifts a little, his gaze swinging between the two women, the silence becoming awkward. As Lilian struggles for something to say, Natalia smiles at Graham. “Mistress Lilian and I shared some study in financial analytics while I attended Mulan’s Temple.”

  Natalia has always excelled at social niceties. Her carefully chosen words acknowledge their prior acquaintance while denying both Lilian’s assistance and that year of shared activity. Even at nineteen, Lilian understood that the relationship was more an exchange of favors than true friendship. With the wisdom gained since, Lilian realizes that her value to Natalia and her circle was more than academic. At the time, Lilian was destined for a highly placed protégé contract with the Matahorn Alliance and would have been a useful friend.

  Hard on that thought follows another. What inducement did Damien offer Natalia for the introduction? Such speculation is as pointless as continued conversation with Natalia. Knowing open discord with Seigneur Okoth’s heir will bring naught but trouble, Lilian extracts herself as carefully as she can. “It was years ago. Our paths have diverged since then.”

  With polite thanks to Master Graham for his instruction, Lilian takes her leave.

  16. A Prelate’s Will

  The Serengeti articles of agreement designate the areas of control for each member cartouche. Blooded Dagger controls the production and marketing of Vistrite, Iron Hammer the fabrication of the controller units that embed Vistrite into technology, and Grey Spear the distribution and supply network. Every port and warehouse licensed by the Cartel is controlled by Serengeti security-privilege and its militia, whose ruthless protection minimizes theft while maintaining the purity of the supply. The navigational maps that support the secure and rapid transport of Vistrite are tightly sealed within Grey Spear security-privilege. The Grey Spear logistics and supply network is divided into three territories: Jonathan Territory, Socraide Territory, and Rimon Territory.

  As amended by the unanimous agreement of Serengeti’s governors, Mercium will be distributed by the Grey Spear network, but only where and in the quantities authorized by the Blooded Dagger Cartouche. Blooded Dagger Cartouche’s limitations on supply and distribution will ensure that while the benefits of Mercium are fully exploited in the underdeveloped systems, the inexpensive Vistrite substitute will not adversely impact the lucrative trade in Vistrite within the developed systems. Initial distribution will be restricted to the Fifth and Ninth systems within Socraide Territory. Additional systems will be added as the Troy facility reaches capacity. ~ excerpt from Mercium Charter, Serengeti Archives.

  Sevenday 98, Day 3

  “How know you Okoth’s heir?” milord asks, reaching for the last pastry. There is naught in milord’s tone or expression but idle curiosity.

  Swallowing green tea, Lilian reflects on her faded relationship with Natalia. Truly, there is little to convey. “We knew each other at Mulan’s Temple. For a time, we were friends of a sort. Until last evening, it had been five years since we last encountered each other. Two since we had contact.”

  “Naught else?” Milord bites into the pastry.

  “There is no longer friendship.” Lilian shrugs, long reconciled to her former friends’ abandonment. “No ill will either.”

  “And yet, you appeared distressed after your meeting.” Milord’s eyes sharpen.

  Distressed? Lilian considers those few tense moments. She is certain she gave away naught of her feelings. Even if she had, it was more awkward than distressing. Her conversation with Master Graham on the other hand . . . “Milord, it was not meeting Natalia that disturbed me.”

  Glancing at her slate, Lilian checks her analysis one more time. There is no other explanation. Master Graham’s explanations the past evening confirmed her findings. Milord will not be pleased, but there is no help for it. Now that Lilian is certain, milord must be informed. Across the table, milord swallows the last of the pastry, eyebrows raised, waiting for her to continue. Beyond the windows, the bay is black under an overcast sky. The dark vista is a fitting backdrop for the information Lilian must share. I am the sum of my ancestors.

  Ten minutes later, Lucius’ mood is as dark as the bay. He has known since the past Fifth Day, when he interrupted Lilian’s insight, that she had found another wrong thing. It was only a matter of time before she had enough of a pattern to bring it forward. The strong black brew favored on Fortuna turns bitter on his tongue. “We knew theft and smuggling of Mercium was inevitable, but how could it have developed so quickly?”

  Mercium has only been available for a season and Serengeti security-privilege measures are nearly impenetrable. For black and gray commerce raiders to act so quickly can only mean Mercium’s existence was known before the media announcements.

  “I know not, milord.” Lilian grips her slate, her eyes huge with distress. “But there can be no other explanation for the shortages in the shipments to the Ninth and Eleventh Systems.”

  Returning his cup to its saucer, Lucius leans back in his chair. Theft is an ongoing challenge for the Cartel. It is Grey Spear’s duty to guard Mercium from one port to the next. Is Grey Spear treating Mercium more casually than Vistrite? Lucius’ anger begins to simmer toward rage. “Are you certain? Could it be a problem in Grey Spear’s distribution protocol? It has barely been a season since Mercium entered the distribution network.”

  “That was my first suspicion,” Lilian nods, “but last evening, I was able to confirm with Master Graham that there are no differences between the Mercium protocol and that for Vistrite.”

  The Vistrite protocols are the result of centuries of diligence. Naught is proof against the shrinkage from thousands of hands. As long as the losses are slight, and the problem not persistent, such shrinkage is tolerated. Blatant theft is not. Lucius has no cause to doubt Graham Tudorian’s veracity. But if the Grey Spear protocols are not lax, what then? Corruption? Lucius will dismember every associate of Grey Spear if it becomes necessary. “Why are you certain the Mercium is being diverted in the distribution network and not at the planets?”

  Lilian’s shoulders square and her expression turns neutral. “Mercium uses the same warehouses as Vistrite. If one were to breach a warehouse, why not take the more valuable Vistrite?”

  Master anger. Lilian’s tension can only be a reaction to Lucius’ barely controlled rage. Mastery of spirit. Lucius forces the frown from his face as he reaches for Lilian’s slate and scans the contents. “The amounts stolen do not seem worth the risk.”

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian’s shoulders soften. “But these may have been trials. A test of the entire network to find weak points. Or . . .” Lilian hesitates, tension forming around her eyes.

  Enough. Lilian knows better than to withhold. “Speak, woman! What else?”

  “It could also be that some agency is looking for a large enough Mercium sample to start counterfeit production,” Lilian blurts out. She is not certain, the interrupted insight left the pattern half formed, but her analysis since suggests it is another valid possibility.

  Counterfeiters? Demon shit! Mercium is the result of a Vistrite counterfeiting scheme uncovered by Lilian. A scheme that Sebastian Mehta was into up to his neck, and Grey Spear remains riddled with corruption. “How likely is that?”

  “If I may?” Lilian reaches for her slate.

  Pushing it across the
table, Lucius waits while Lilian displays a new analysis. “Theft for profit is the most likely scenario. The current losses could be a test of our protocol.”

  Lucius glances at the probability curves. Theft is far more likely, but Lucius will take no chances. Pushing out of his chair, he strides to the window, directing his anger at the heavy sky. Whatever the purpose, it is all but impossible that the loss of Mercium occurred without Grey Spear involvement. If Grey Spear warriors are involved in the theft of Mercium, could it be they were mistaken in selecting Hercules as Sebastian’s successor? Is it impossible to control that house without destroying it?

  As much as he despised Sebastian Mehta and loathes Damocles, expending the resources to topple a cartouche of Grey Spear’s stature could cripple Blooded Dagger and leave Bright Star ripe for Matahorn picking. Nor is Grey Spear without value to the Cartel. Its logistics and supply functions would be difficult to replicate, and there are warriors such as Thorvald and Aristides who are essential to the functioning of Serengeti. Lucius needs answers. “Seigneur Trevelyan is the Mercium security-privilege seigneur. He is to use all resources to find my Mercium.”

  “Yes, milord. If milord pleases,” Lilian says softly from his left.

  Mastery of self. Lilian is not at fault. Her diligence has unearthed a threat well before others would have noticed. “Voice what you will.”

  “Milord, the losses in question are not significant, yet. Would it be better to avoid acknowledging them and try to ascertain a few more facts? We know that Mercium is disappearing from Grey Spear’s First System territory. We do not know how the theft has occurred. We do not know who benefits or where the Mercium is now. It is impossible to believe it is occurring without someone within Grey Spear being complicit. But where? Is it a local issue, or are there ranked warriors involved? Milord has taught me it is not well to have more questions than answers.”