Fortuna

by E G Manetti

  At the time, Lilian had not realized that her aversion sent Katleen down one corridor while she took another. Shame surfaces.

  “Lilian, cease. Your sister was in no danger.” Milord has once again read Lilian’s mind.

  Distracted from her dark thoughts, Lilian finds a question of her own. “Milord, if I may?” At milord’s nod, “The captain was killed two years before his supposed death in the transport accident. How does that happen?”

  “Missing in action,” Trevelyan replies. At Lilian’s open confusion, he explains that once the militia lost contact with Reynald, they would have attempted to find him, to make contact. The two-year delay can only mean that it was common for him to be out of contact for long periods. Reynald was an infiltrator, a militia operative working in stealth to uncover nefarious activities. It is dangerous work. Infiltrators have a tendency to die sudden, painful deaths.

  Lacking a corpse or other evidence, Reynald would have been declared missing in action. After two years without contact, it becomes missing, presumed dead so that the family may receive additional benefits. The transport accident was but a tale invented to explain the captain’s death. Trevelyan is certain there will be no confirmable evidence of Reynald’s existence beyond that rainy season twelve years gone.

  “Lilian, is the seer able to aid us?” Milord returns to the investigation. “She is the only other witness.”

  “Milord, my mother’s discourse is often confusing.” Lilian sighs. “When there is meaning, it is often not apparent until later events.”

  “Such as instructing one without wings to fly straight and fast?” milord suggests.

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian agrees. Lilian has over a thousand lines of ‘prophecy’ collected from her recording device that are essentially babbling. It is only with other information that it is ever useful. “Sinead’s Shrine Keeper will not deny milord, but I can offer no hope Maman’s answers will be of use.”

  Lucius doubts it as well, but they must explore every possible avenue. Unable to resist the urge, Lucius lightly strokes his fingers across her temple, attempting to ease the tension from her eyes. Looking into Lilian’s wide gray eyes, so large in her pale face, Lucius easily imagines her at fourteen, solemnly welcoming guests into her house for what should have been a pleasant evening’s entertainment. Lilian’s house? Lucius is certain that was what she voiced last night. “How is it that Katleen’s house was once yours?”

  If the question surprises Lilian, it is not evident in her response. “The trust was designed to preserve property for the cadet female line, milord. It passed to me at age ten. When Katleen was born, I knew it was to be hers, as I was Remus Gariten’s heir. It was mine only until Katleen reached her tenth year. Is it important, milord?”

  Lucius shrugs. “I should not think so, now that you explain it.”

  “Monsignor.” Trevelyan references his slate. “If there is naught more on the captain’s murder, might we turn to Fenrir’s abducting Lilian?”

  “The two events do appear to be linked,” Lucius agrees. “If Fenrir fears Lilian can connect him to Reynald’s death, he might wish her dead, but why steal her? Lilian, have you any notion?”

  “No, milord. I am not certain the seigneur is even aware that I recall him or the events of that night.” Lilian lowers her gaze in thought. “Truly, having not cried witness before, why would the seigneur believe I would do so now? And what would it matter if I did?”

  Apprentice testimony is not evidence, nor is anyone likely to entertain the word of a discredited bondwoman over that of a cartel leader.

  “I doubt Lilian’s abduction had aught to do with Reynald’s murder,” Trevelyan states. “Fenrir’s involvement proves he was involved in some aspect of Gariten’s black commerce. It is more likely that Seigneur Fenrir is looking for knowledge of Gariten’s activities. There are many who remain convinced that Lilian was involved in Gariten’s enterprises.”

  “They had no experience of Gariten’s contempt for females,” Lilian huffs.

  Lucius exchanges a glance with Trevelyan. They both recall Gariten’s evil ranting at his execution. “Know you the source of such unusual leanings?”

  “No, milord, only that Gariten had little use for me or my ‘useless sex,’ as he termed it.” Lilian has not spent much thought on her sire’s distaste for her. As a child, she saw him infrequently, and when she did, it was always in fear that he might frown. “Has Seigneur Fenrir any knowledge of Gariten at all, the seigneur would know I was entrusted with naught of import. I have never understood Gariten’s interest in my protégé contracts.”

  Trevelyan leaps on the last statement. “What was Gariten’s interest in your protégé applications?”

  “He wished me to go to Monsignor Omar at Matahorn. I wished Serengeti. He went so far as to threaten Maman and Katleen to compel me to comply.” Thinking a moment, Lilian continues, “Dark Axe. Seigneur Fenrir is Monsignor Omar’s senior retainer.”

  “Aye, Mistress Lilian, for some reason Gariten wished you within Seigneur Fenrir’s reach.” Trevelyan looks to Lucius.

  “And Fenrir wished to have her,” Lucius adds. This matter is becoming more confusing. “Whatever the motive, it is more recent than a murder twelve years gone.”

  “Which raises the question, why now?” Trevelyan points out. “After two years, why try to steal Mistress Lilian now?”

  “Something has changed in the situation.” Lucius prowls to the windows, gazing into the Crevasse, the source of his wealth and power. The cornerstone of modern technology and modern order. “The question is what? Did Fenrir abandon whatever purpose was in play two years ago only to reclaim it now? What happened two years ago?”

  Gariten. As if thrown from the depths of the Crevasse, the answer flashes into Lucius’ consciousness. Turning back to the chamber, Lucius turns his gaze to his apprentice. The remarkable woman is Lucius’ due to Gariten’s disgrace. “Trevelyan has the right of it. This is about Gariten’s dark enterprises. Lilian, could the information hidden in Mulan’s Temple be of use?”

  At the time he learned of it, Lucius was enraged that Lilian retained a record of three Hebrides security-privilege enterprises controlled by Gariten. Before she was taken for her protocol review, Lilian hid the information within a three-thousand-year-old artifact.

  “Milord?” Lilian hesitates, her eyes going dark with tension.

  Why does she hesitate? Lucius wonders. Chin and Trevelyan will not betray Lilian’s knowledge of Gariten’s commerce dealings to those who would harm her. “You are to speak freely.”

  “First stricture, milord?” Lilian reminds Lucius of his command not to speak of this to any but him.

  “Even in this,” Lucius reassures her, a bit disconcerted that Lilian seems to fear defying him more than she does the dangerous knowledge she is about to share with the medic and spymaster.

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian nods, her gaze turning inward. “To answer milord’s question, if Seigneur Fenrir was deeply involved in Gariten’s crimes, he may be seeking what is left of those enterprises.”

  “There should be naught left of Gariten’s enterprises,” Trevelyan exclaims. “All were confiscated and dissolved to pay reparations to the injured parties and the Governing Council fines.”

  Turning to Trevelyan, Lilian reveals, “Before Gariten was taken for his protocol review, I amassed a thorough inventory of his commerce dealings. Among them were three Hebrides security-privileged enterprises that Gariten’s protocol review did not discover. The amounts forfeited by Gariten’s Cartouche were significantly less than the total that existed before the indictment. Some of that missing wealth is in those enterprises.”

  Trevelyan snorts. “Lilian, you hold more secrets than a prelate. But if Fenrir was involved in those enterprises, why would he need you?”

  “I know not,” Lilian admits. “But if he was, the evidence is at Mulan’s Temple.”

  “For whatever reason, Fenrir is a danger to Lilian,” Lucius snaps. “I cannot dea
l with Fenrir without evidence linking him to one of these crimes. I care not if it is abduction, murder, or black commerce. Trevelyan, what are your thoughts?”

  “There is nothing other than our knowledge to connect Fenrir to Lilian’s abduction.” Trevelyan rises and joins Lucius by the windows. “We require the confederate known as Jed, and we are unlikely to find him. It is even less likely that we will be able to connect the seigneur to the murder of Reynald, although we will continue to investigate.”

  Beginning to pace, Trevelyan continues, “Those Hebrides enterprises may hold information that connects Seigneur Fenrir to Gariten. For that, I will need the information Lilian secured on Artesia.” Trevelyan stops and looks at Lilian. “Where will I find this information?”

  With a wary glance at Lucius, Lilian answers, “It is located on a record strip attached to the back of a three-thousand-year-old artifact displayed in the Ancients museum within Mulan’s Temple. Access is controlled by Master Scholar Andreas Chiang.”

  Lilian fingers the pocket of the slate satchel holding her thorn. What concerns her? Lucius’ dislike of the scholar does not alter their need.

  With another wary glance, Lilian confesses, “I do not believe he will release it to anyone other than me.”

  Demon shit! What says she? Lucius starts across the chamber. Under no circumstances is she to be permitted anywhere near the scholar. “Dean Joseph can force it from him.”

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian acknowledges, tilting her head to meet his gaze. “Eventually it would be so. It will be the work of months, and Dean Joseph would need to remove Andreas from his post. It will draw a great deal of attention and comment.”

  The scholar will not thwart Lucius’ will. There are means to compel his compliance.

  “Monsignor.” Trevelyan’s voice cuts through Lucius’ rising rage. “It is possible that another might succeed.” Eyeing Lilian speculatively, Trevelyan asks, “Would Andreas release the artifact to Mistress Katleen?”

  »◊«

  Pressed by exhaustion, Lilian shifts on the overwarm pillow, seeking a cooler spot.

  “Are you awake?” Katleen’s whisper drags Lilian from sleep. Turning toward the sound, Lilian forces open her eyes. The soft light in the bedchamber warns of the advancing bell, even as fifth bell chimes from the slate resting on her bedside table.

  Fifth bell. She has slept several periods. As Lilian forces dull wits to order, the memory of her penthouse interview surfaces. With Lilian’s admission that Andreas would likely yield the artifact to Katleen, milord and Seigneur Trevelyan began rapid-fire planning. Even with milord’s instruction to speak freely, Lilian found it difficult to mention that Katleen is not subject to the Cartel and that Maman and Sinead’s Shrine would need to agree.

  Lilian recalls milord’s stunned countenance and Trevelyan’s chagrinned smile. She knows that Master Chin delivered on his promise to halt the interrogation when Lilian grew too weary. He also gave her an injection.

  “Lilian?” Katleen peers at her anxiously. “Are you awake? Are you well?”

  “Well enough.” Lilian struggles to a sitting position. “Tea would be welcome.”

  With a motion, Katleen sends a hovering acolyte for Maman, who arrives in moments with Sinead’s Shrine Keeper Waiman and Apollo. Keeper Waiman is of an age with Maman, her straight black hair unmarred by gray, the black, almond-shaped eyes holding the sharp wit associated with her deity. For all Lilian laments the sway Sinead’s Shrine holds over her mother and sister, she cannot not be aught but grateful for the keeper’s cleverness in finding acceptable pretext to extend Sinead’s protection to Katleen and Lilian whenever possible.

  With a flourish, Apollo places a tray with green tea and fruit in Lilian’s lap. There is a brief debate over who of the three prelates will take the chamber’s only chair—each insisting another should have it. Before it can become awkward, the acolyte returns, struggling with two kitchen chairs.

  Placing the chairs near the reading chair, Apollo sends the acolyte from the chamber while Katleen settles on the bed with Lilian. As soon as the door closes behind the acolyte, Apollo pulls a chair close to grasp Lilian’s free hand. “Monsignor Lucius insists you are in danger and that Katleen must travel to Artesia to protect you. Who threatens you? The Shrines are not powerless.”

  “Yes, that is, I . . .” Lilian hides her confusion behind a swallow of tea. What is milord’s will? Lilian knows Apollo and Sinead’s Keeper will keep their secrets, but it would be better if Seigneur Trevelyan were here.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, Seigneur Trevelyan stalks into the chamber, followed by a broad-shouldered militia guard with a fierce expression and an equally fierce-looking fireburst pistol. Mr. Stefan proves to be Lilian’s newly assigned driver and bodyguard.

  “Monsignor Lucius will protect his property. No other will have the opportunity to steal Lilian,” Seigneur Trevelyan explains, his gaze sweeping the chamber, daring any to contradict milord’s will. No one does, greeting the spymaster’s words with sounds of approval. With a brusque nod, Trevelyan continues, “Stefan will need a station by the front entry. No one will enter Katleen’s house without the approval of Cartouche and Cartel, and Lilian will not leave it without a guard.”

  “My thanks,” Lilian replies, relieved at the precaution and knowing she is in no state to repel any who would force their way within. Nor is she able to leave without aid. There is one matter. “What of later? When there are none to chaperone?”

  “I will send for a suitable shrine acolyte to share your chamber,” Keeper Waiman declares. “She can also aid you until you recover.”

  With that, the keeper sends the acolyte waiting discreetly in the corridor with Mr. Stefan to collect the most comfortable of the kitchen chairs and position it in the entryway. At Maman’s insistence, Trevelyan takes the worn reading chair while Helena joins Katleen and Lilian on the bed.

  Trevelyan quickly assesses the chamber. Apollo’s presence is not a surprise. Since Lilian’s disappearance, Apollo has barraged Trevelyan with alerts offering assistance or demanding information. His place by Lilian’s bed is an overt demonstration of affection and commitment. He will support Trevelyan’s mission. On the other hand, Waiman is likely to resist any risk to Katleen. Trevelyan holds no doubt that the shrine is grooming the girl for Sinead. Lady Helena is the key. Her protective position next to Lilian suggests the seer will endorse any course of action that will protect her eldest daughter.

  Helena is remarkably like Lilian but with the beauty of a grown woman and the compelling serenity of a prelate. That she is beset by troubling visions is a tragedy. Pushing aside his fascination with the lovely seer, Trevelyan focuses on convincing her to agree to his proposal. He does not voice all, only that Blooded Dagger knows who took Lilian but not why. Evidence to incarcerate or eliminate the shadeless miscreant can be found on Artesia but will only be released to Lilian or one of her immediate family.

  “Peace, Seigneur,” Helena interrupts. “Dark secrets corrupt. They must yield to the light of Order. It is the Shades’ will that you go and return.” For Helena the Seer, it is remarkably lucid. Certainly it is enough for Sinead’s Keeper to drop her objections, with the proviso that two of Sinead’s acolytes accompany Trevelyan and Katleen on the journey.

  Trevelyan expected Apollo’s support, but Waiman’s capitulation is a welcome surprise—her stipulation further confirmation that the shrine intends Katleen for Sinead. Intercepting the keeper’s speculative glance at Lilian and then Helena, Trevelyan senses further secrets and a deeper purpose. Universe strummed, all three of them, and I am not the only one who sees it.

  To Trevelyan’s surprise, when he suggests that Rebecca stay with Lilian and Helena, Helena refuses. She is adamant that Trevelyan’s Raven must fly with him. The seer may be beguiling, but in this, Trevelyan will insist. Lilian must have a female agent who can accompany her anywhere in the house and remain at night without violating apprentice protocol. He does not understand the brief conver
sation between Lilian and her mother relating to owls and mongooses but is satisfied when Lady Helena graciously accepts Mistress Tabitha as a houseguest.

  Although all seems settled, one voice has not been heard. Pushing past her exhaustion, Lilian reaches for her sister. “Katleen, what think you? Is it too fearsome a task?”

  “I am not afraid.” Katleen smiles. “You were not much more than a year beyond my age when you left for nine years. I shall manage two sevendays.”

  Katleen has no idea of the events that led to Lilian’s flight to Mulan’s Sanctuary. Nor has Lilian spoken to Katleen and Maman about the murder of Captain Reynald. Lilian would do all in her power to make certain Katleen never learns of it. Biting her lip, Lilian nods, comforted by the knowledge that Trevelyan and Rebecca will guard Katleen.

  “We will depart Sixth Day.” Trevelyan rises. “Lilian must rest.”

  As the prelates rise, Trevelyan adds, “Something dark stalks these women. Have you the ability to call the Five Warriors to their aid, it would be well for them. Send to Seigneur Thorvald at the Cartel do you sense the slightest ill.”

  Sevenday 100, Day 5

  “What have you learned?” Lucius demands as Trevelyan takes a seat in the comfortable seating area. This day has been as long as the last. Lucius will not be easy until they have Fenrir in their grasp.

  “The genetic matter from the blade Lilian used to kill the crevasse-crawler belonged to a man of little note,” Trevelyan reports. “Tiger Sylvester believes ‘Jed’ is an independent contractor for gray and black commerce. Lilian’s ear is excellent. His origins are in the Twelfth System. Should Jed surface, Tiger will take him in hand.” Trevelyan pauses to murmur thanks to Marieth as she places a glass of single malt near to hand. “I hold out little hope. I expect Jed is as dead as the other one. Without either man, it will be all but impossible to tie Fenrir to the abduction.”

  Moving to Lucius’ side, Marieth deposits a short, stemmed glass glistening from icy vodka.