Fortuna

by E G Manetti

  Oblivious of Lilian’s inner turmoil, milord asks, “Should she prove capable, will we need others for the additional decision trials?”

  “Not within the next few seasons, milord,” Lilian replies. Since her abduction, Lilian has worried about that lack of others who understand the decision trials. With two trials under development and at least three others needed, keeping Lilian as the sole developer creates a significant risk. Of those with the skills, none is likely to respond well to instruction from milord’s notorious apprentice. Milord could place Nickolas nominally in charge, but it would be cumbersome, and milord has indicated he does not wish Nickolas distracted from his other duties. “Once we are certain my enhancements to the scholar’s model are valid, Blythe should be able to assist with completing the two trials under development. After that, I cannot say.”

  “That gives us until the green season to identify others.” Milord nods. “Very well, I will inform Seigneur Marco. Has he no objection, you may engage her as soon as they return from the First System.”

  “Milord, there is one additional consideration.” Lilian would rather not raise it, but milord’s will in this has been unequivocal since her fourth day in the Cartel. “Given her knowledge of the models and complexity theory, Mistress Blythe will not be long in recognizing the full extent of my abilities.”

  And what Blythe knows, Seigneur Marco will know.

  “Marco already suspects your prodigy.” Milord shrugs. “He will keep his apprentice under control.”

  “My insights, milord?” Lilian suggests tentatively. “One gave rise to the decision trials.”

  “It matters not,” milord returns. “The decision trials are worth the risk. If they become aware of your insights, inform me at once. I will deal with it.”

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian relaxes. The discussion has gone far better than she hoped.

  »◊«

  A hard hand shoves between Lilian’s shoulders, sending her into a violent tumble. The floor rises to meet her as she attempts to tuck and roll, protecting vulnerable parts from assault. A hand at her throat halts her. Seigneur Trevelyan’s free-trader grin is close to her face. Once again, Lilian has reason to be grateful that the Serengeti training rooms are so well padded.

  Sending a sidewise glance at the match timer, Lilian finds she has survived a scant eighteen minutes with the seigneur. The training period is almost done and her time has degenerated with each trial. They have returned to chalk thorn against an unarmed Trevelyan. Trevelyan’s words at the start of the session were certain and brusque. “I will hold nothing back. Defend yourself.”

  Breath short from exertion and the impact of her fall, Lilian surrenders her chalk thorn in defeat. Released by Trevelyan, she works to a sitting position, gathering air. There are but three faint marks and one strong on the seigneur’s training garb. The strong one is across the chest. It would hurt and bleed but take some time to level her opponent. Were it a true battle, Lilian would be dead before her injury could provide lasting harm to her adversary.

  When Trevelyan’s words come, they are a surprise and a delight. “Well done, girl. There are no more than a handful within the Cartel I cannot dispatch within ten minutes. Seigneur Thorvald and Monsignor Lucius are the only ones who are able to survive more than a half period.”

  That Lilian spent sixteen of the eighteen minutes in avoidance is less material than that she survived.

  »◊«

  “Monsignor Horatio has accepted the evidence against Fenrir.” Milord’s voice thrums against Lilian’s neck, rousing her from the pleasant languor that followed milord’s relentless passion. Nestled in milord’s arms on the scarlet sofa, Lilian savors the sensation of milord’s large, warm hands roaming her bared back and rib cage as he nuzzles the sensitive area below her ear.

  At the mention of Fenrir, the lassitude retreats and Lilian opens her eyes to meet milord’s quizzical ones. Seigneur Marco reached Socraide Prime a sevenday gone and wasted no time confronting Horatio Margovian with evidence of Fenrir’s perfidy.

  Although the evidence is undeniable, the wily Matahorn Preeminence would not act without confirmation. For a sevenday, Matahorn security-privilege worked with Malcon to confirm the evidence while Seigneur Marco attended to Bright Star. Lilian suspects that Monsignor Horatio was not pleased to be at a disadvantage with milord and used the delay to minimize the honor debt owed milord and Blooded Dagger. Milord has opened the topic; Lilian may satisfy her curiosity. “Milord, may I be permitted to know? What does Monsignor Horatio intend to do with Seigneur Fenrir?”

  “Monsignor Horatio will take the matter up with Monsignor Omar.” Milord strokes along the curve of her breasts, causing Lilian to arch slightly in the pleasant contact. “Omar will be appalled to discover that one of his house could be involved in such dark dealings.”

  Lilian cannot help wondering if Monsignor Omar will be more appalled by Fenrir’s crimes or that they were discovered. Do Not. It is a shameful thought. Lilian has no cause to doubt Monsignor Omar’s honor.

  “Whether appalled or annoyed, it will matter naught.” Milord reads her mind. “There will be some discussion and negotiation. In the end, Fenrir will accept the chalice to avoid the destruction of his family. His senior retainers and majority-age offspring will be relegated to insignificant commerce roles and watched carefully. It is likely to be three generations before any have the opportunity to rise to prominence.”

  Milord cups Lilian’s head, keeping her place as he searches her face. “Fenrir’s holdings will be forfeited to his cartouche to keep his kin within it and to pay the shrine fees for the chalice. Monsignor Omar will, in turn, surrender fines to Monsignor Horatio in recognition that he erred in permitting such corruption to flourish within his house and to cover the blood price Matahorn owes me for your abduction.”

  For centuries, the ultimate act of warrior atonement has been ritual suicide by poison administered by the shrines. As with all shrine punishments, acceptance of the penalty redeems the warrior’s honor and wipes clean the transgressions.

  It is not enough. Lilian does not voice the thought, although something in her face must have betrayed her. Milord’s eyes darken, and his expression grows harsh. “You would prefer Fenrir go to the Final Draught as did Gariten?”

  It is effrontery for Lilian to judge a highly placed warrior, but Lilian must answer. “Militia Captain Reynald was an honorable man. I cannot be pleased that only one of his murderers suffered the ignominy of the Final Draught and having his dust scattered in the void between stars. The chalice is an honorable death, and Fenrir’s dust will settle in a sacred shrine pool to mingle with his ancestors’.”

  Milord’s expression softens, his thumb lightly stroking her jaw. “If Fenrir suffered a protocol review, your knowledge of Gariten’s dealings might be revealed. As it is, by next Settlement Day, you will be safe from Fenrir’s dark machinations and Horatio will owe me a boon in addition to the blood fee. Naught further is possible.”

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian presses her lips to milord’s caressing hand. Milord is correct, there is naught more to be done, and she is grateful for milord’s protection. “As milord pleases.”

  Sevenday 107, Day 1

  “What think you, Blythe?” Lilian stands behind the new Raven as she taps commands into her worksite techno group. In the place of awkwardness and confusion, Blythe projects naught but serene competence as she configures Lilian’s enhanced model for analysis.

  “This will require some study.”

  “How long before you can make a judgment?” Lilian peers at the model. She was beyond thrilled when milord informed her at eighth-bell attendance that Seigneur Marco had returned and agreed to have Blythe assist with the decision trials. Anxious to get started, Lilian hurried to Blythe’s worksite. “Masters Nickolas and Fletcher will be ready for the next decision trial by month’s end.”

  “It will require the remainder of today, and likely most of First Day, to understand your enhancements.” Bly
the lightly taps the display. “This one is beyond my skills. I will need you to step me through it.”

  “It is not so complicated,” Lilian says, gesturing to the notation. “I replaced two constants with variables, and added—”

  “Peace, I pray you.” Blythe turns to Lilian. “It is too much at once. Allow me to study these and make of them what I may. Are you able to meet after eighth-bell attendance on Third Day?”

  “Second Day?” Lilian taps her slate, restraining her frustration. It took her months to develop these algorithms; two days of study is reasonable. “Yes, I have naught before midday.”

  “With the Luck of the First, we may be able to validate your enhancements within the next two sevendays.” Blythe smiles, eyes shining with enthusiasm. “My thanks for requesting my aid. Not only will this be a pleasant relief from Master Straus’ interrogatives, but anything related to Bright Star is a mark of trust. I had not expected such from Seigneur Marco for some time.”

  “You must not neglect the training interrogatives,” Lilian worries. “Blooded Dagger’s lead in the scoring should not be jeopardized.”

  The second scoring day had Blooded Dagger leading the Cartel, but Iron Hammer has closed the gap, with Grey Spear not far behind. Late or poor-quality assignments will be damaging.

  “Worry not.” Blythe waves airily. “All those bells in stellar transit provided ample opportunity to complete the training assignments. I have only two left and should complete them easily before the training period is done.”

  Extra bells or not, to have all but completed Serengeti’s rigorous eight-sevenday training course in six is a significant accomplishment. With an intellect that sharp, Blythe will be an asset to the decision trials and should have little difficulty overcoming the lacks in her social and apprentice training.

  »◊«

  The sweet citrusy burn of vodka flows over Lucius’ tongue as jagged spikes of green and white briefly illuminate the distant hills visible from the secluded table in Order’s Pinnacle. From this vantage, naught shows of the cityscape visible from Lucius’ penthouse, but it has its own grandeur. Except for the illumination of the electrical storm, the plains are a dark sea cut by the lights of the Crevasse as it winds toward the distant hills. When Lucius acquired the tower that holds his penthouse, he acquired the most exclusive warrior club in the Third System.

  With a dark smile, Marco raises a glass of spiced rum. “The end of Fenrir.”

  To Lucius’ left, Trevelyan echoes the gesture with single malt.

  As pleased as his seigneurs that Fenrir took the chalice at midday, Lucius raises his glass and returns Marco’s smile. “Well done.”

  The sleek obsidian partition that shields the table prevents eavesdropping. After swallowing rum, Marco reports, “The Matahorn review proceeded as expected. The honor and blood fines owed you and Blooded Dagger for the discovery of Fenrir’s involvement with Gariten will be deposited in your Socraide Prime accounts next Settlement Day.”

  “I wish we knew who else was involved in those enterprises.” Trevelyan frowns.

  “Does it matter?” Marco returns, collecting a sampling of the delicacies arranged on the table. “With Fenrir and the scholar dead, the last of Gariten’s evil dies with them.”

  “I hope it is so,” Trevelyan replies, following Marco’s lead and selecting a few skewers of meat and vegetables. “I like it not that Fenrir denied Lilian’s abduction. His involvement in Gariten’s enterprises sealed his fate. Admitting to Lilian’s abduction would have caused no further loss. We know those three enterprises required more than two men to operate.”

  “Gariten’s black commerce partners seized the rest,” Lucius remarks, helping himself to savory tarts now that his guests are served. “I doubt they have any interest in Lilian. It is more likely that Fenrir refused to confess to defy us.”

  “As you voice,” Marco agrees as Trevelyan’s frown relaxes.

  “And Omar?” Lucius wonders.

  “As shocked by Fenrir’s black commerce as one would expect.” Marco sighs. “I could discern no subterfuge in his response. There is no reason to suspect he had any knowledge of Fenrir’s dark dealings.”

  “I imagine Horatio will have Omar watched,” Lucius returns. “It is what I would do.”

  “I am certain it is so,” Marco agrees. “Monsignor Horatio is less than pleased to owe you a boon for this. Have you decided what you wish?”

  “There is naught at the moment.” Lucius relaxes deeper into the comfortable chair. “I will hold it against the next Bright Star intrigue.”

  “And we can be certain there will be one.” Marco tilts his glass to Lucius. “Most likely when the decision trials are revealed.”

  “I have not decided how I wish that handled,” Lucius admits. “If Lilian and your Blythe are able to manage the development, I would prefer Blooded Dagger bear the entire cost and retain control of the potential commerce benefits.”

  “We should know in a few sevendays,” Marco replies.

  “I will be astounded if there is aught amiss.” Lucius shrugs. “Nonetheless, it will be well to have the verification if I decide to share the development costs and benefits with the consortium.”

  Speculation flashes across Marco’s face as he takes a sip of rum. “Blythe used terms such as elegant, beautiful, and gorgeous to describe Mistress Lilian’s work.”

  “Mistress Blythe is not the first.” Lucius smiles. He knew this conversation was inevitable. “Garwynn’s words were very similar when presented with the financial projections for Mercium.”

  “As I understand it, Mistress Lilian’s complexity models for these decision trials are far beyond the most elaborate of financials.” Marco tilts his head in inquiry. “According to Blythe, the master scholar could not have reviewed these enhancements when he refused to engage with Mistress Lilian. In Blythe’s mind, the scholar would have been enthralled.”

  “Enthralled?” Lucius echoes. Mayhap they will be able to engage the scholar after all.

  “Truly, Monsignor.” Marco gestures emphatically. “Blythe was astounded that Lilian had only been at work on these decision trials since the green season. Apparently, the scholar’s model was the work of two decades.”

  Lucius flashes a glance at Trevelyan, who nods imperceptibly. They have not discussed it, but Lucius has already decided it is time to include Marco in the small circle aware of the true extent of Lilian’s gifts. “What do you suspect?”

  “Mistress Lilian is beyond brilliant, even by Serengeti standards,” Marco replies with a huff that conveys he knows Lucius is testing him. “Her work on the complex Bright Star financials has been excellent. The work on the Bright Start code is intricate and time-consuming. The decision trial is creative and impressive. Combined with her role in Mercium and her conservator duties, Monsignor’s Raven carries a remarkable assignment load for one so inexperienced. So many important duties for one so young.”

  “Do you have a point?” Trevelyan half smiles.

  “Monsignor does not take unnecessary risks,” Marco replies with a narrow look at the spymaster. “He would not entrust such important endeavors lightly.” Turning to Lucius, Marco asks, “May I know? How clever is she?”

  “Mistress Lilian is qualified for mastery of analytics and problematics. It is only the circumstances that deny her credentials.” Lucius’ smile turns to a grin as he reveals, “Mastery she achieved prior to her twenty-fourth year.”

  For a moment, Marco’s face is impassive as he considers these revelations. “A prodigy? And in such a lowly position that she and her efforts are readily overlooked. How very useful.”

  “Useful, indeed,” Lucius agrees. “But that is not the whole of it.”

  “There is more?” Marco leans forward.

  “Lilian can experience brief episodes of extreme insight.” Lucius is careful with his words. “When it occurs, she can discern patterns that would otherwise be imperceptible. It is how she first identified fraud in the Desperation Refine
ry.”

  “From which came Mercium.” Marco’s eyes widen and then narrow. “Have there been others?”

  “Several that we know of,” Lucius admits. “A few I have witnessed, as has Trevelyan.”

  At Marco’s stunned glance, Trevelyan nods. “At first, we did not understand what we witnessed. It is subtle.”

  “How so?” Marco glances between Lucius and Trevelyan.

  “Her eyes will lighten to the point of transparency,” Lucius explains.

  “And she will whisper to herself,” Trevelyan adds. “It rarely lasts more than a few moments.”

  “The Bright Star shares,” Marco states. “When she discovered Sebastian and Monsignor Elenora’s intrigue, she was speaking softly to herself.”

  “Quite possibly.” Lucius nods. “It is best not to interrupt her. She can lose the pattern and suffer a severe headache.”

  “Yes, of course, I understand.” Marco sits back and finishes his drink, his mind clearly awhirl. After a moment, he straightens and asks, “What of Blythe? If she is to work with Lilian, she may discover this.”

  “If she does, control her,” Lucius instructs. “Does she not discover it—she is not to be told. Lilian’s insights are sealed to my security-privilege.”

  “Yes, Monsignor.” Marco nods.

  “As to Lilian’s prodigy, her academic record is available to any who care to look,” Lucius adds. “But, to the extent possible, I prefer it be overlooked. In that, your apprentice is already proving of aid.”

  “Monsignor?” Marco questions.

  “Lilian needs assistance with developing the decision trials,” Lucius explains. “As a first-year apprentice, none will think aught of Mistress Blythe’s involvement in a senior apprentice’s tasks.”

  “True enough,” Marco agrees. “But will Blythe’s aid be sufficient? I understand that the decision trials increase in complexity.”

  “Lilian believes that the two of them are sufficient through the rainy season,” Lucius replies.

  “Time enough to assess other options,” Trevelyan muses. “And fortunate that Mistress Blythe has the skills.” Turning to Marco, he asks, “Did you foresee this?”