Fortuna

by E G Manetti

  “Thank you, Marieth, you need not remain.” Lucius dismisses his executive servitor for the day. It is past seventh bell and the stars are bright over the Garden Center.

  Turning back to Trevelyan, Lucius asks, “What of Captain Reynald’s murder?”

  If they cannot tie Fenrir to the abduction, murder will do.

  “The chamber where Lilian recalls finding the dead captain was as Lilian described,” Trevelyan reports. “Thorvald’s technicians did their duty, but there was naught to discover.”

  “What of Lady Helena?” Lucius asks with little hope. Lilian had not been optimistic about the seer’s ability to aid them.

  “Monsignor, Lilian was correct, Lady Helena was quite willing to speak. Making sense of her discourse is another matter.” Pausing to sample the single malt, Trevelyan makes an appreciative hum before continuing, “Lady Helena assuredly recalls Reynald. She spoke of him rising, that old evil could not hunt what it does not recognize. There was a great deal about a guardian and the abyss. Naught that could be useful in pursuit of Fenrir.”

  “Is the seer as deranged as reputed?” Lucius wonders. Lilian has never denied it, but she also pays some heed to her mother’s prophecies. Since the revelation that one such prophecy directed Lilian in her escape, Lucius is reluctant to dismiss Lady Helena’s visions as madness.

  “I would not say deranged,” Trevelyan says soberly. “Somewhat disordered in her wits, upon occasion. She is often completely lucid and quite charming. The death of Reynald was a traumatic event for her as well as Lilian. The attempt at recall completely overset her. Once we abandoned the topic, she returned to sense, instructing me that Katleen is over fond of lurid entertainments and Rebecca must not indulge her.”

  “Interesting.” Lucius takes a thoughtful sip of vodka. “Two years gone, George thought the seer completely deranged. Of late, he has found her often coherent and gracious. Perhaps the shrine healers have succeeded in repairing some of the damage caused by Gariten.”

  “Aye, ” Trevelyan agrees. “They have done wonders with Mistress Tabitha.”

  At the reminder, Lucius frowns. “You are certain Mistress Tabitha is able in this?”

  Lucius is not comfortable with the notion of Sebastian Mehta’s abused apprentice as Lilian’s guardian. He knows the quiet associate is loyal to Lilian. Loyalty alone will not keep his apprentice alive and secure. After two years of Sebastian’s systematic abuse, Lucius thinks it far more likely that Tabitha will cower in a corner at the first sign of danger. Certainly, while she remains in need of shrine care, her stability is suspect.

  “Her skills with fireburst weapons are impressive,” Trevelyan assures him. “For this, we require someone who will fire to kill without hesitation. Thorvald agrees that Mistress Tabitha owns the ability, and Monsignor knows her loyalty to Lilian.”

  “Fireburst weapons?” Lucius challenges. “You would have me believe that little mouse has the skill and ferocity to kill?”

  “It is part of her healing therapies.” Trevelyan flashes a dark smile. “The shrine healers determined that the best way for Tabitha to purge dark memories is to slay them.”

  “Slay them?” Lucius echoes, not quite believing what Trevelyan is suggesting. “She mentally slays Sebastian?”

  “For some months.” Trevelyan’s dark smile deepens. “It seems to speed her recovery.”

  More than once, Lucius has mentally disemboweled Sebastian in retaliation for his dangerous intrigues and assaults on Lilian. With a dark smile of his own, Lucius raises his glass in agreement. “The savage mouse it is.”

  Lucius cares not what crime they prove to eliminate Fenrir. Since they cannot tie him to Lilian’s abduction or Reynald’s murder, they have only his involvement in Gariten’s crimes. “Let us hope the Hebrides enterprises provide what we need.”

  “As you voice.” Trevelyan nods. “Tabitha meets us at Katleen’s house in the morning. With Stefan on guard during the day and Tabitha at night, Lilian will be safe enough until we return.”

  “While you are gone, George will seek a reliable night guard for Lilian,” Lucius declares. He requires someone as fierce as Stefan, utterly loyal and discreet, and, for appearance’s sake, female. It is not a long list, and the best candidates are already engaged in critical Blooded Dagger functions. Mistress Joyce, the female operative who—along with Rodolfo, her spouse—guards Lilian’s worksite, would be ideal. However, the posting would reveal her as Trevelyan’s agent and destroy her value as a stealth operative. Nonetheless, Lilian must be protected. “If it becomes necessary, we will use Mistress Joyce.”

  “Yes, Monsignor,” Trevelyan acknowledges. “The cost of replacing a stealth operative is naught to Lilian’s value to Bright Star and Mercium.”

  To Lucius’ surprise, Lilian’s commerce value had not entered into it. It is not a thought he will voice. Finishing his drink, Lucius wishes his spymaster a successful journey.

  Sevenday 100, Day 6—Fifth Settlement Day

  The lightweight medic’s chair maneuvers easily onto the balcony overlooking the courtyard bright with the morning sun, the soft gurgle of the Fortuna water rising with the pleasant tang of minerals. Behind Lilian, the sound of the chamber door signals the acolyte has gone to check on Katleen. Seigneur Trevelyan and Rebecca will arrive in another bell, along with Tabitha, who will relieve Mr. Stefan, freeing the acolyte to return to the alcove.

  With a sigh of frustration, Lilian scowls at her damaged feet in their protective coverings. Hospitality dictates she give Mr. Stefan and the acolyte a morning meal. Confined to the chair, Lilian can do naught but direct them to the kitchen. Across the courtyard, the closed doors of the family wing mock her.

  When the house was ransacked after Gariten’s execution, the family quarters were the most heavily damaged. Not content with stealing all that was of value, their neighbors destroyed or fouled what could not be removed. Broken fixtures occupy the freshening closets, the plumbing turned off to avoid leaks. Although cleaned, the walls and floors remain stained and gouged. The internal riser controls are shattered, the cost of repairs beyond Lilian’s means. Scavenging the few undamaged furnishings and moving to the guest quarters was the only choice.

  Footfalls echo on the stone pavement, pulling Lilian from her contemplation of the damaged wing. Below her, Mr. Stefan raises a hand in greeting. Without a word, the militia guard disappears under the archway, where Lilian can hear him checking the seals on the closed chamber doors. In a few minutes, he appears at the end of the courtyard where the walls once retracted and opened the courtyard to the ornamental gardens. Pacing the length, Mr. Stefan’s head swivels as he scans the area before disappearing to check the security of the garden and kitchen. Lilian wonders if Katleen has introduced the soldier to Gloribelle, and if so, how that went.

  As if summoned by Lilian’s thoughts, Katleen calls a good morning. Pivoting in the chair, Lilian finds Katleen standing in the doorway.

  “Are you hungry? The acolyte has followed Mr. Stefan to the kitchen.” Katleen bounces into the chamber, dressed for travel in the turquoise trousers and tunic that were once part of Lilian’s university wardrobe.

  “Have you the teal jacket?” Lilian asks.

  “With my travel bag.” Katleen rolls her eyes. “The color does not become me as it does you.”

  “I know, sweetling.” Lilian holds out her hands. “But it will keep you warm. It will be entering the snowy season when you reach Mulan’s Temple.”

  “It will be well.” Katleen squeezes Lilian’s hands. “You know that Seigneur Trevelyan and Rebecca will keep me safe.”

  “You are excited by this journey,” Lilian realizes, noting Katleen’s bright gaze and happy energy.

  “It will be an adventure!” Katleen exclaims. “We have not gone anywhere in two years. And Rebecca has never been to Artesia. She is as excited as I am.”

  “She is?” Lilian wonders. It may well be true. Rebecca’s life before the Cartel was very limited.

  “Oh y
es.” Katleen drops into the reading chair, swinging her legs and revealing the tops of her gray training boots. The ankle boots are Katleen’s warmest, and she is likely to outgrow them before they wear out. “She loved seeing the seashore when she went with Seigneur Trevelyan to inspect the Mercium plant located at the Western Continent fisheries.”

  Half listening, Lilian notes that the turquoise trousers are no longer turned at the cuff as they were a year gone. There is enough material in the hems to see Katleen through her next round of growth. The silk and linen blend is as durable as it was expensive and should survive another year.

  Oblivious of Lilian’s calculations, Katleen continues, “She cannot wait to see the great lake by the university.”

  Longing stabs Lilian at the thought of the great lake, the university, and most importantly, Dean Joseph.

  “I know you are forbidden Dean Joseph.” Katleen seems to read Lilian’s thoughts. “But I am not. Is there aught you would have me relay?”

  So much. There is so much Lilian would discuss with her mentor and foster father. Too much. With a slight shake of her head, Lilian says, “Only that I am well and pray for his continued health and success.”

  “You are well?” Katleen frowns at Lilian’s feet.

  “What would you say?” Lilian replies. “That I am constantly under attack? There is naught Dean Joseph can do that Monsignor does not.”

  “I could tell him that Monsignor Lucius has set guards to protect you,” Katleen retorts.

  “The need for guards would give rise to worry,” Lilian replies. “If you must say more, let the dean know that he chose wisely in Monsignor Lucius. Tell him that Monsignor has provided exceptional opportunity to prove my bond. Mention my role in Bright Star. That will please the dean.”

  “Where should I place the meal?” The acolyte enters the chamber, her vestments as pristine and precisely draped as if for shrine service. There is not a single wrinkle to suggest she spent the night on a cot in Lilian’s chamber.

  “Here on the table by the chair.” Lilian collects the tree-troll puppet to make room for the tray.

  »◊«

  From the top of the staircase, Lilian watches as Rebecca and Trevelyan usher Katleen from the house. Eager to start her new adventure, Katleen does not look back as Rebecca offers a final, reassuring wave. Truly, there is naught to fear. Katleen is eager, not wary, and there could be no safer escort than Seigneur Trevelyan. In the foyer, Tabitha and Mr. Stefan seal the entry before turning to the stairs.

  Pivoting the chair, Lilian moves it next to the entrance of her chamber. Before he leaves, Mr. Stefan will move the acolyte’s cot to an empty chamber beyond Maman’s. There had been some argument from Tabitha, who thought she should guard Lilian from within the chamber. Lilian would not have it. “The acolyte was a chaperone, not a guard. Without Mr. Stefan’s presence, I have no need for a chaperone. You will be more comfortable in Katleen’s chamber, and I will be just as secure.”

  “I will not be between you and the stairs,” Tabitha countered.

  “No one can enter by stealth,” Lilian rebutted. “A direct assault will wake you long before an assailant reaches the stairs.”

  The argument might have continued for some time without Seigneur Trevelyan’s intervention. “Attack or stealth, either is more likely to be attempted from the mews than the front entrance. Katleen’s chamber is closer to the back stairs than Lilian’s and close enough to Lilian’s that if you leave the balcony doors open, you will hear any sound of distress.”

  Apollo insisted the household retain the cot against another emergency. “Lilian girl, you attract anarchy as a sweets tray attracts insects. We may as well be prepared. Adelaide’s Alcove has no lack of cots.”

  Taking the pillows from Tabitha, Lilian leads the way around the corner and down the hallway, with Mr. Stefan carrying the cot and Tabitha the rest of the bedding. Through the door to Katleen’s chamber, they glimpse the same spartan furnishings as found in Lilian’s. Instead of fern-green and silver tile, Katleen’s floor is rose, cream, and turquoise. There are two sets of glass doors instead of one. The pink and silver quilt is as faded as Lilian’s blue and bronze, and the small, plush sapphire loveseat is patched with green.

  The door to Maman’s chamber is closed; Helena departed for the shrine shortly after the morning meal. The next chamber is devoid of aught but dust. A layer dims the tile floor patterned in burgundy, teal, and sand while grime clouds the closed glass doors to the balcony. Neither Mr. Stefan nor Tabitha comment on the chamber’s state as they set up the cot and place the folded bedding in the center. Lilian offers naught. It is all Katleen and she can manage to maintain their chambers, the foyer, the courtyard, and the kitchen. It is a blessing that Sinead’s acolytes tend to Maman’s chamber and wardrobe.

  “Will there be aught else, mistress?” Mr. Stefan gives Lilian an abbreviated salute.

  “No, thank you.” Lilian pivots the chair away from the chamber.

  “Very well.” Mr. Stefan moves around the chair, taking point. “I will return with a transport at seventh bell on First Day.”

  “May the Five Warriors favor you in the new year.” Lilian offers the traditional good wish.

  “And you,” Mr. Stefan says with another half salute.

  Lilian turns to Tabitha. “I regret your loss of the year-turn festivals.” The year-turn festivals mark the completion of the commerce year with special meals and entertainments throughout the half day of liberty and the following Seventh Day. Confined to Katleen’s house with Lilian, Tabitha will not have the respite to enjoy the city’s festivities.

  “Worry not.” Tabitha smiles, following Mr. Stefan down the stairs. “I have several new entertainments to enjoy. I had no other plans.”

  After sealing the entry door behind Mr. Stefan, Tabitha calls up, “I will patrol and then return. Do you desire aught from the kitchens?”

  “Naught, my thanks,” Lilian calls back. “Katleen brought fresh water carafes to both our chambers before departing. If you will, please check the foodkeeper. I must ready a market list for Clarice.”

  With a wave, Tabitha disappears into the interior of the house. Turning from the stairs, Lilian bypasses her chamber in favor of Maman’s. It is as Lilian hoped. The wolf is gone from her panel; only a few tendrils of the dormant snake vine remain, coiled under Lilian’s fruit trees and twisting around the corner and into milord’s panel. They have yet to eradicate all traces of Sebastian Mehta’s influence, but it diminishes with each passing season.

  »◊«

  A soft rustle has Lilian wide awake, pulling the thorn from beneath her pillow.

  “Peace, Lilian.” Clarice’s soft voice clears away the clouds of slumber. “It is fifth bell. We thought you would wish to be wakened in time to prepare.”

  “My thanks.” Lilian nods, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. To her chagrin, she could not remain awake after midday. At Tabitha’s insistence, Lilian consumed a small midday meal before exhaustion overtook her. She has slept nearly four bells. It is time to rise. “Maman will return from the shrine within the bell. I would be ready.”

  “Need you aid?” Clarice rushes forward with the medic’s chair.

  “I can manage the freshening closet.” Lilian waves away the offer. “Not being able to feel my feet hinders my balance, but I can manage within my chamber. Where is Tabitha?”

  “Executing another patrol.” Clarice rolls her eyes. “By now you would think she had determined the house is secure.”

  “Seigneur Trevelyan insists on the precaution until those who stole me are found.” Lilian places her feet on the floor. No one is to know Seigneur Fenrir was behind the abduction. Publicly, they remain unknown assailants who disappeared after Lilian escaped. “Although, Seigneur Thorvald’s militia confirmed that the house is secure, short of a direct assault.”

  Cautious of her balance, Lilian braces her hands on the bed to rise. Clarice chokes a sharp sound, her gaze on Lilian’s waist, where the
gold warbelt rests between the short tunic and azure silk briefs she wore to bed in deference to Tabitha and Clarice.

  Raising amused eyes, Clarice demands, “You wear it to bed?”

  Refusing to be embarrassed, Lilian offers a dignified “Monsignor’s will” before tottering into the freshening closet. She pretends not to hear Clarice’s trill of laughter.

  »◊«

  A warm glow from the setting sun lights the upper levels of Katleen’s house, warming her chamber before fading into the courtyard shadows. Clarice and Tabitha lounge on the patched loveseat that sits between the two sets of glass doors. The furnishings are augmented with the side table from Lilian’s chamber and a chair from the kitchen that awaits Maman’s return from the shrines.

  One end of Katleen’s battered chest of drawers holds the year-turn feast. Maman’s favorite, braised waterfowl, nestles in a bed of fresh herbs and greens from the garden. A small tray holds Clarice’s gift of the traditional deviled quail eggs, a basket holds fresh rolls seasoned with herbs or dried fruit, and a large bowl of grilled vegetables rounds out the feast. The dishes barely cover a third of the surface, very different from the lavish banquet tables of Lilian’s youth. It is a great deal more than the fish, greens, and small sweet of last year’s feast. It is a miracle compared to the soup and fruit of two years gone—all that Lilian could muster in the stark days after the ruin and before she entered the Cartel.

  In Katleen’s absence, Lilian omitted festival sweets from the market list and added wine. Together, Chrys and Clarice performed the marketing while Lilian restlessly piloted the medic’s chair from her balcony to the top of the stairs and back. It did not sit well with her to have others execute her duty. It pleased her even less that she could not even get down to the front entry to thank Chrys for his aid.

  “May the Five Warriors favor you in the new year.” Clarice hands Tabitha and Lilian wine.

  “And you,” Lilian returns the blessing in unison with Tabitha. There is no purpose in longing for Chrys. She should enjoy the friends who are with her.