by E G Manetti
“Mistress Rebecca came to Serengeti in her twenty-eighth year,” Lilian pauses, her fingers tightening on the seal, “after fourteen years an apprentice to the scholar who is now dean.”
“What say you?” Lucius sits up sharply, shocked at the implications.
Eyes darkening, Lilian nods. “Yes, milord, Rebecca was but fourteen when she went to Dean Rupert, although so undersized and underdeveloped that she appeared a lovely twelve-year-old. She was also illiterate. The dean demanded that she please those among the educational elite willing and able to advance the man’s career. In return, she was permitted to educate herself as best she could.”
Demon shit. Lucius’ poor opinion of the Rimon Deuce Governor’s University drops further. He will speak to Straus. Serengeti will give neither the dean nor the institution any further support.
“Mistress Rebecca’s scholarship trials could have earned her a place as a designated apprentice in one of the smaller cartels or larger consortiums.” Lilian’s carefully neutral tones pull Lucius back to her tale. “She discovered that the dean did not wish to release her and would attempt to refuse her bond proof. Placement with Serengeti, any placement, would be prestigious enough that the dean would release her so that he could claim such a success.”
Lilian does need to mention what Lucius knows: the lot of a designated apprentice is significantly better than that of a general apprentice. It is a great deal easier to please one master than many.
Abandoning her cultivated dispassion, Lilian pleads for her friend. “Milord, Mistress Rebecca is safer and more comfortable in Seigneur Trevelyan’s shadow than she can ever recall. Lacked Rebecca honor—which she does not—she would not betray the seigneur out of her own self-interest.”
“It is not a pretty history,” Lucius admits. He had assumed that Straus was beguiled by Rebecca’s beauty. Lucius cared not, as long as Rebecca’s skills were up to Serengeti standards. It is well to know that fierce determination augments the woman’s skills. She is unlikely to fall prey to self-indulgence at this late date. “From your telling, I agree that Seigneur Trevelyan is unlikely to be disgraced by his apprentice.”
Lilian’s bright smile of relief is beguiling. Rising, Lucius turns to other interests. Trevelyan may not choose to lie with his apprentice. Lucius most definitely chooses to lie with his.
24. Wolf Hunt
Within commerce enterprises, mastery credentials command higher status and contract awards. They are mandatory for any who wish to take up positions within the university system. Although not as lucrative as successful commerce careers, university careers are highly prestigious. The flexible work schedules provide successful master scholars extensive opportunities for consultative contracts and access to higher levels of society than comparable commerce positions.
Master scholars who lead academic disciplines often achieve financial parity with master associates in commerce enterprises, with the attendant improvement in wedlock opportunities and advancement for their offspring. The highest level of achievement is academic dean, positions that in first- and second-tier institutions are almost exclusively held by warriors. These academic leaders are entrusted with ensuring that the elite of the Twelve Systems are educated and trained to guide society into continued commerce success and order. ~ excerpt from A Social History of the Twelve Systems, an academy text.
Sevenday 102, Day 5
The last of the healer’s sealant dissolved First Day gone and Lilian’s strength has returned at a rapid rate, leading the master medic to lift the restrictions on her training. The morning’s training session with Maman left Lilian soaked in sweat and short of breath but without the trembling in her limbs of the prior sevenday. Fresh from the shower, Lilian uses her toes to trace a crack in the tile floor of her chamber, marveling at the return of full sensitivity and the evidence of Master Chin’s skill. Glancing in the flyspecked mirror, she confirms that all is in order with her appearance—the silk blouse tucked neatly into her skirt, the warbelt precisely positioned so that the conservator’s seal is prominently displayed, her thorn set at her hip where the suit jacket will hide it.
With that thought, Lilian enters her wardrobe. Slipping on her shoes, she reaches for the jacket. Almost the size of her freshening closet, the wardrobe holds only a fraction of what it once did. Milord’s gold frocks are carefully covered and stored in a back corner with the matching shoes. The other corner holds her festival garb, also carefully covered. The area closest to the door holds five black suits next to the empty hangers of the one she is wearing. Along with eight silk blouses, the mist-green set, the new aquamarine silk from milord, and her battered canvas jacket, the garments barely fill half of the wall.
Neither the paucity of the garb nor the amount of black troubles Lilian. As an Adelaide adherent, Lilian is used to wearing black, and until she can afford better-quality garb, she has no interest in expanding her wardrobe. For now, it is enough that she is two-thirds through her bond and, due to milord’s grace, increasingly well protected.
“They still hunger,” Helena greets Lilian as she emerges from the wardrobe.
“Maman?” Lilian startles. At this bell, Helena is usually within her bedchamber, preparing to attend Sinead’s Shrine, not perched on Lilian’s bed, attired in sweat-marked training garb.
“Socraide and Sinead were ever at odds.” Helena holds out a rolled sheet of drawing paper. “In this, they are allied.”
With her mother quoting the canons, Lilian expects to find a devotional depiction of the Five Warriors. What Helena has created is so different from Lilian’s expectations that she has trouble making sense of it. When the figures come to order, Lilian’s fingers tighten convulsively. Against the backdrop of the courtyard when it was properly furnished, surrounded by a dozen shadowy figures, fourteen-year-old Lilian greets Militia Captain Reynald. “Maman, what is this?”
“Ghosts. Ghosts that will not rest.” Helena rises from the bed. “Sinead cannot act alone. Adelaide is her kinswoman, but Socraide’s consort.”
“Sinead? Socraide?” Lilian echoes. Maman does not seem overset, but her confused utterances are definitely a ‘prophecy.’
“He sent his servant,” Helena explains, moving to the door. “There is his answer.”
Servant? Answer? With sudden, sharp insight, the drawing and Helena’s ramblings snap into focus. “Monsignor Lucius is Socraide’s Patron and Seigneur Trevelyan is Socraide’s consecrated, making him servant to both milord and the First Warrior. The drawing is your answer to Seigneur Trevelyan’s questions.”
“They still hunger,” Helena repeats, stepping through the door as Tabitha enters.
Casting a curious glance over her shoulder, Tabitha asks, “Is Lady Helena well?”
“Well enough,” Lilian replies, rolling up the drawing. For some reason, she finds the image disturbing, although she cannot think why. It is but Maman’s confirmation of Lilian’s memory.
“Mr. Stefan is below with the transport,” Tabitha says. “Are you ready?”
“I will be right there,” Lilian promises, reaching for her slate and satchel.
A few minutes later, the utilitarian Serengeti transport glides away from the curb, Lilian and Tabitha in the back, Mr. Stefan driving. Although far from the luxury of milord’s transport, Lilian is delighted with the arrangement. She would not have wished to be abducted, but the comfort of transiting to Serengeti in a private transport cannot be regretted.
“What is that?” Tabitha points to the rolled drawing.
“A drawing of Maman’s.” Lilian’s fingers twitch on the paper.
“May I see it?”
Lilian shakes her head. “It will be for Monsignor and Seigneur Trevelyan to decide.” Knowledge of the murder of Captain Reynald and Lilian’s witness remains tightly held. Nor is Lilian eager to discuss her mother’s vision-driven artistry. Other than a brief entry by Seigneur Thorvald’s militia when they secured the house, none but Katleen and Lilian have entered Helena’s chamber. That mil
ord has voiced naught of the vision panels suggests that none noted the resemblance of the woodland creatures to milord and several members of Serengeti’s leadership.
»◊«
At the sound of eighth-bell chimes, Lucius pushes back from his techno array, turning his chair to watch Lilian cross the scarlet threshold. With a rapid glance, he assesses her quick, certain step, the loose swing of her shoulders, and the clear gray eyes unmarred by black circles. Whatever residual trauma lingers in her psyche, Lilian has once again proven remarkably resilient. Certainly, she shows none of the anxiety that bedeviled her before Fortuna. Whether due to the knowledge that someone was actually seeking her harm or the added security of Mr. Stefan, Lucius cannot be certain. Nonetheless, he and Chin will both watch her for signs of renewed stress. Eyes on the rolled paper in Lilian’s hand, Lucius demands, “What have you for me?”
Shoulders squaring, Lilian passes the document across the desk. “Milord, Lady Helena sent this.”
Curious, Lucius unrolls the paper. Whatever is within, it troubles Lilian. It contains not a missive, but a sketch. “Lilian, what means this?”
Expression neutral, Lilian replies, “It is Lady Helena’s answer to Seigneur Trevelyan’s questions. Sometimes, my mother finds it easier to communicate with a drawing.”
Eyeing the composition, Lucius wonders about the nature of a woman who finds it easier to draw than to speak. Within the general outlines of a household courtyard, Lucius recognizes Remus Gariten surrounded by seven roughly sketched men whose features resemble crevasse-crawlers, the large rodents that dwell in the Vistrite mines. Adolescent Lilian, dressed in a frilly party frock, solemnly greets man-wolf Fenrir and the militia captain. Ignoring an odd pang at the sight of his severe apprentice in such frivolous attire, Lucius focuses on Reynald. Unlike the rest of the men, the captain is not a rodent. He bears a strong likeness to the hunting hounds used in Lucius’ game forests.
“It appears you were correct in your recollection that it was a gathering of some sort. Do you recognize any of these other men?” Lucius inquires.
“No, milord.” Lilian scans the drawing. “If we were to review some of the visuals of Seigneur Fenrir during that time, some of these others might be identified.”
“I will hold this against Trevelyan’s return,” Lucius decides.
»◊«
“Lilian!” Katleen’s glad cry jerks Lilian to her feet. Ignoring the female Grim Twin’s severe expression, Lilian embraces the hurtling figure. A few steps behind Katleen, Rebecca passes the Grim Twins at a more decorous pace. It is not yet fifth bell; Rebecca and Katleen must have come directly to Serengeti from the stellar transit center.
“Lilian, we are to wait in Seigneur Trevelyan’s office.” Rebecca smiles blandly at the Grim Twins. “He will come to us, or Monsignor Lucius will send for you when they are ready.”
Releasing Katleen, Lilian tosses her satchel strap over her shoulder, holding her slate free. As she follows Rebecca, Lilian sends a brief alert to Tabitha. One storey below milord’s, Seigneur Trevelyan’s office is modest in size but sufficiently large to hold a sofa, a four-chair conference table, and an expansive desk—all arranged to enjoy the view of the Garden Center.
“How went it with Andreas?” Lilian follows Rebecca to the conference table. “I did not anticipate he would yield so rapidly.”
“Master Andreas thought I was seeking sanctuary.” Katleen takes the place between Lilian and Rebecca.
Lackwit. Lilian should have foreseen that would be Andreas’ assumption. “I suspect he was not pleased to find that was not your purpose.”
“It was half a period before we were able to make that understood,” Rebecca says with asperity. “That man is not easy to deflect.”
“No, he is not,” Lilian agrees. “Tell me what occurred.”
“Master Andreas was thrilled to see Katleen and went on for some time, assuring Seigneur Trevelyan that Katleen would be safe and welcome in Mulan’s Sanctuary,” Rebecca explains. “When he was not focused on Katleen, he was focused on you and Lady Helena. How did you fare? How long before you joined Katleen at Mulan’s Sanctuary?”
“Five Warriors take it.” Lilian sighs. “Why did you not tell him immediately?”
“Seigneur tried,” Rebecca huffs. “Master Andreas would not halt long enough to listen. If Katleen had not interrupted, we might yet be there.”
“I know it was rude,” Katleen ducks her head, “but I could find no other way.”
“What did you do?” Lilian wonders.
“Grabbed his arm and shook it for attention.” Rebecca grins. “Shocked him into silence.”
“Worry not.” Lilian lays a comforting hand on Katleen’s shoulder. “I have been compelled to similar acts.”
Raising her head, Katleen confesses, “I did not wait for Seigneur Trevelyan to speak. I was afraid Master Andreas would start again.”
“Katleen’s version of events was better than an entertainment,” Rebecca chortles. “You should have seen his face. She told him that an evil warrior stole you, but you managed to escape. That Monsignor Lucius had you safe, but to keep you safe, Seigneur Trevelyan needed to indict the vicious seigneur. For that, we must have what you left in Master Andreas’ care before you were taken for your protocol review.”
“A bit lurid, but accurate enough,” Lilian admits, repressing a smile. “So Andreas was suitably horrified and yielded the artifact?”
“Not exactly.” Rebecca’s amusement fades with remembered annoyance. “Master Andreas’ initial reaction was appalled shock followed by insistence that you and the seer be brought to the safety of Mulan’s Sanctuary. That this was not the first attack you barely survived, and that Monsignor Lucius clearly lacked the ability to protect you.”
“Mulan’s Mercy,” Lilian gasps in shock. “He did not insult Monsignor so. Not in front of Seigneur Trevelyan.”
“Seigneur told him to cease acting the fool.” Rebecca snorts. “And that Master Andreas should have learned from last year that you would not leave Monsignor. He also reminded the master scholar of his promise to aid you. A promise Andreas must honor or be foresworn.”
Although Universalists do not revere the Five Warriors, they do adhere to the Twelve Systems’ conviction that to break a vow is to be without honor.
“I thought Master Andreas might yield,” Katleen nods, “but then, he got all angry and raged at Seigneur Trevelyan. Saying Trevelyan dared not speak of honor, having lost his and embraced the foulest corruption by taking Rebecca as his apprentice.”
“It was my doing,” Rebecca confesses. “I addressed the seigneur as milord and the master scholar flew into a temper and demanded we leave his office.”
“It was but an excuse,” Katleen inserts, with a comforting smile for Rebecca. “Universalists are opposed to indenture, but not to that degree. Master Andreas was seeking a reason to deny us in the hope of getting Lilian to Mulan’s Sanctuary. His purpose had not changed since the last dry season.”
“Then how?” Lilian looks from Rebecca to Katleen. They have returned with the record strip. “What changed Andreas’ mind?”
“I didn’t know what Katleen meant by Master Andreas causing trouble the dry season past,” Rebecca explains. “When I did—well, it raised my temper. With seigneur’s permission, Katleen and I returned to the master scholar’s office.”
“Mistress Rebecca was most fierce.” Katleen picks up the tale. “When we returned to Master Andreas, he immediately offered Mistress Rebecca sanctuary, which she refused.”
“I could not believe he suggested it,” Rebecca adds. “The scholar was astounded when I informed him Seigneur Trevelyan’s shadow is better sanctuary than any other I could have. I also told him that even if I were fool enough not to know when I’m well off, I wouldn’t shame the seigneur by breaking my bond.”
“That is not all.” Katleen bounces in excitement. “Rebecca told Master Andreas he was the one without honor, not Seigneur Trevelyan. Andreas was withho
lding promised aid to force Lilian to his will. She also told Master Andreas that Seigneur Trevelyan accepted her bond to protect her and give her opportunity to prove her honor.” Leaning toward Lilian, Katleen whispers, “It is a secret, but while appearances must be maintained, Seigneur Trevelyan does not lie with Rebecca.”
“I am willing,” Rebecca hastens. “And I so informed the scholar. It is Seigneur’s will.”
“She called the master scholar corrupt and dishonorable and selfish,” Katleen recites with relish.
Stunned, Lilian looks from Katleen’s gleeful face to Rebecca’s rueful one. “This was the reasoned persuasion that convinced Andreas to surrender the record strip?”
“Master Andreas was not acting with reason,” Rebecca retorts, chagrin fading under righteousness. “I saw no cause why I should. Truly, I cannot say which angered me more greatly. That the scholar brought you grief or that he misspoke the seigneur so. Whatever did you see in him?”
Other than that he is handsome, virile, and brilliant? Do not. Do not. “Truly, Rebecca, Andreas is quite brilliant, and it was but four months. I quickly grew weary of Andreas’ inability to accept any view of the universe that differs from his. In that, he has not altered with the passage of time.”
Turning to Rebecca, Katleen confides, “Last dry season, when Master Andreas would not depart and leave Lilian in peace, she threatened to take his ears as a gift for Monsignor.”
“Reasoned persuasion? You consider such reasoned persuasion?” Rebecca laughs. “All I did was insult the man.”
“Truly, Mistress Rebecca, your words were every bit as sharp as Lilian’s thorn,” Katleen insists. “I could see when they cut through Master Andreas’ will and brought him to reason. The master scholar is not without honor, and he had promised aid.”
Turning to her sister, Katleen says, “Lilian, Master Andreas was truly grieved that the seigneur has Mistress Rebecca as apprentice. Why should it be so? Could they have once studied together?”