by E G Manetti
“I was in the transport when it crashed,” Lilian replies quietly, igniting her techno group.
“Are you injured? Should you seek the Master Medic?” Rebecca fiddles with her techno display in an attempt to look busy.
“Bounced around a bit is all,” Lilian assures Rebecca. “I have had worse from Seigneur Trevelyan.”
Reassured, Rebecca turns to her work. The Serengeti Champion, Seigneur Trevelyan, trains Lilian, often sending the slender woman away aching and bruised. If all Lilian suffered in the crash was a similar pummeling, there is no cause for alarm.
Determined to shake off her morose mood, Lilian ignites her techno group and settles into work. Self-pity will gain her naught. Diligence to her duty has seen her through nearly a third of her trial and brought her unimaginable opportunity. Milord gave her conservatorship of a Vistrite mine and refinery, as well as his Southern Continent fisheries. An honor by itself, the conservatorship of those holdings justifies her role in Serengeti’s stellar exploration venture, Bright Star, as well as in Mercium, the recently discovered synthetic Vistrite. These are the responsibilities of a valued protégé, a high-ranking associate, not an apprentice undergoing a Trial by Ordeal. Milord’s recognition is so far beyond what Lilian expected that she continues to marvel at it. For all she dislikes the public humiliation of milord’s correction, it troubles her more that she has displeased milord.
2. Correction
With every passing century, Vistrite became more essential to advanced technology as it enabled everything from stellar propulsion to light controls, generating both massive wealth for Serengeti and an incentive for counterfeiting. The false crystals rarely functioned, or if they did operate long enough to perpetuate fraud, they failed without warning, resulting in fire and even loss of life. Serengeti, in defense of its sovereignty and public safety, routinely hunted and destroyed the counterfeiters.
Blooded Dagger’s invention of Mercium is the first safe and viable Vistrite synthetic in history. Commerce has stagnated in those Systems where the distance from any Vistrite Crevasse makes it cost-prohibitive to use Vistrite in any but the most complex and essential of technologies. The local fabrication of Mercium will make simple conveniences such as door and light controls affordable to all inhabitants and vastly increase Serengeti’s wealth and influence. Unable to match the purity of the naturally formed Vistrite crystals, Mercium is too unstable for use in higher-order technology, assuring that it will never be a threat to the supremacy of Vistrite. ~excerpt from the Mercium Charter, Serengeti Archives.
Sevenday 49 Day 3 – Continued
Lilian hesitates at the entrance to the windowless Mercium analytics chamber, dismayed that the advancement of Mercium has increased the team size. Until recently, Chrys was the only regular occupant of the analytics chamber, with Lilian an occasional visitor. This day, the long console table holds another three associates. Beyond the glass panels that view into the experimental chamber, another six associates are engaged with the complex equipment. Resisting the urge to hold her slate satchel in front of her chest, Lilian walks the length of the chamber to Chrys.
Lilian’s first friend in the Cartel, the tall, sandy-haired young man cultivates an unremarkable appearance, aided by the unflattering black suit that washes out his pale, regular features and light brown eyes. Eyes that narrow sharply as Lilian slides into the vacant chair.
“Is there aught I can offer?” Chrys asks mildly.
Chrys’ carefully neutral expression masks a sharp and clever mind, just as his blocky black suits hide a strong and powerful physique. Chrys has noted her unbound breasts and guessed the cause. No more willing to dwell on milord’s displeasure than she was with Rebecca, Lilian shrugs, dismissing Chrys’ concern. “It is naught.”
“Lilian—” Chrys begins, only to be forestalled by Lilian’s raised palm.
“Peace, Chrys, it is naught,” Lilian insists.
At the sight of the abraded palm, Chrys demands, “How were you injured?”
“Injured?” Focused on her work and worried about milord’s displeasure, Lilian had all but forgotten about her fall. “It is naught. I tripped while racing to the Cartel.”
“Racing? Why were you racing?” Chrys’ concern increases.
“The public transport was in a collision,” Lilian explains. “It was race or be late to eighth bell.”
“Which you were anyway,” Chrys determines quickly. It explains Monsignor Lucius’ actions. The collision would have mitigated Lilian’s offense and spared her a belting, but not correction.
Rather than discuss the details, Lilian lets Chrys’ conclusion stand. “It was an unfortunate start to the day. As it is, I am short of bells for my Bright Star tasks, so please, tell me why you summoned me.”
“When are you not short of bells?” Chrys huffs. “I thought that after the wafer incident, the monsignor lightened your workload.”
“And so he has,” Lilian replies. Early in her apprenticeship, events coincided to overload Lilian to the point of collapse. Since then, milord has closely monitored her workload. “But the monthly Vistrite review is this sevenday, and I must prepare the Desperation report.”
Nothing in the Cartel is more important than Vistrite. Although she will not voice it, Lilian desperately hopes that milord will have returned her lingerie before the Fifth Day operations review. Several of the other conservators are unhappy that milord’s tainted doxy has such an important position. She would give them no further justification for their contempt.
“Conservator of Desperation, financial and analytical support for Bright Star and Mercium,” Chrys lists Lilian’s responsibilities. “Oh, and let us not forget your ongoing assessments of Blooded Dagger holdings. That’s almost twice a regular workload. Even your brilliance cannot offset those demands.”
“Chrys, you are overstating.” Lilian defends her workload and milord. “The Blooded Dagger reviews are secondary tasks that can be postponed indefinitely. It is only that the operations review crowds my schedule for the next few days. Please, whatever is so urgent, can we not get to it?”
With a nod, Chrys turns to his console. “It will be another sevenday in confirmation, but it looks like you will need to revise your forecasts.”
For the next several bells, Lilian reviews the latest developments in Mercium fabrication and the companion controller devices created by Serengeti’s Iron Hammer Cartouche. It has only been a month since Monsignor Lucius revealed Mercium to his subordinate cartouches, Grey Spear and Iron Hammer. Monsignor Elenora Odestil, the Iron Hammer Preeminence, has wholeheartedly embraced the endeavor, unlike Sebastian Mehta. The wily Grey Spear Preeminence has challenged Lucius for control of the Cartel for over a decade and has actively resisted the development of Mercium and the increase in wealth and power it would bring Lucius. In the end, Monsignor Sebastian was forced to agree or risk a charge of compromised commerce judgement and the loss of his position as Grey Spear Preeminence. That has not stopped the Grey Spear preeminence from attempting to impede Mercium’s progress.
“We will leave for the Western Continent tomorrow to test this refinement.” Chrys concludes his explanation of the changes.
Built alongside Monsignor Lucius’ fisheries, the prototype Mercium facility is designed to test the fabrication process by embedding the synthetic Vistrite in the Iron Hammer controllers that interface with various technologies. Once housed in controllers, the devices will be shipped to the trial market in the Eighth System, where orders for the inexpensive Vistrite copy have already exceeded the next quarter’s production capacity.
“If this refinement works, it could reduce production time by nearly fifteen percent.” Lilian nods at her preliminary analysis. “Imagine what that means when the Troy facility is ready.”
“It means that I am likely to visit the Fifth System before the rainy season ends,” Chrys replies.
Troy, in the Fifth System, holds a vast saltmarsh capable of meeting the projected demand for Mercium into the next century. Already
under construction, within three months, the Mercium facility will require direct oversight by Chrys’ bondholder and Serengeti’s Research and Development Seigneur, Rachelle.
“I envy you the Troy voyage. Leaving Crevasse City for several sevendays during the rains will not be a hardship,” Lilian remarks. “Will you be back from the fisheries in time for the Moon Races next sevenday?”
“Absolutely,” Chrys grins. “Seigneur Rachelle has a place in the Serengeti box on the observatory. I don’t think a single Serengeti Seigneur will miss this year’s race.”
The Third System Moon Races are highly popular events that draws competitors and visitors from throughout the Twelve Systems. It is an unofficial holiday for Crevasse City and most of Metricelli Prime. Adding to the excitement, Serengeti has a contender in the race, Fletcher Detrenti, a highly popular Iron Hammer protégé and a member of Bright Star.
“Rebecca says the apprentices will view the race in the Associates’ Hall.” Lilian returns Chrys’ grin with a small smile. “Douglas and Clarice are to join us.”
“It seems only right that after Master Fletcher’s help with those thugs at the Five Warriors’ Festival, we gather to support his race.” Chrys nods in agreement.
A month gone, Lilian, Chrys, Rebecca, Clarice, and Douglas were involved in a brawl. Offended by the survival of Remus Gariten’s tainted offspring, five drunken warriors accosted Katleen at the Twelve Systems’ annual Five Warriors’ Festival. Unarmed except for Lilian’s thorn, the five apprentices were threatened with serious injury, if not death, until Nickolas and Fletcher intervened.
“Katleen says that even the Universalists follow the Moon Races,” Lilian comments. “She has all her friends at the Universal Way Academy hoping for Master Fletcher’s success. He and Master Nickolas are well regarded for aiding us in protecting Katleen at the festival.”
“I thought the Universalists opposed all violence,” Chrys questions. “How is it that they admire the two protégés for taking their fists and blades to those Matahorn thugs?”
“The Universalists do not embrace the warrior disdain for Remus Gariten’s tainted offspring. Nor do they have any sympathy for the Servants of Anarchy who would use it as an excuse to molest a child,” Lilian says fiercely, her smile disappearing with remembered outrage.
“I understand why you are so pleased they have allowed Katleen into their academy,” Chrys replies. Until he met Lilian and Katleen, Chrys knew little of the small sect that predates the Anarchy. Like most in the Twelve Systems, he dismissed their pacifist teachings as weakness. That they accepted the disgraced warrior child with such sympathy is making Chrys revise his opinion.
Securing her slate, Lilian begins to rise. “Chrys—ah! Five Warriors take it!”
Lilian stumbles as shooting pains lance through the muscles in her shoulders, back, and legs.
“Lilian!” Chrys reaches out to steady the young woman. “What ails you?”
“My thanks.” Lilian acknowledges Chrys’ aid even as she pulls away to steady herself against a chair back. Except in extremity, Lilian is to be touched by no one but milord. “Muscle strain from the transport accident. Sitting so long has allowed the muscles to stiffen.”
“You did not visit Master Chin?” Chrys accuses.
“I told you, I am short bells,” Lilian justifies.
“And now you can barely move, and it is less than half a bell to midday,” Chrys admonishes.
“Crevasse swallow it!” Lilian exclaims. “Chrys, you are right. I cannot attend the monsignor in this state.”
As is common among apprentices, Lilian’s midday respite is dedicated to her bondholder. Carefully releasing the chair, Lilian takes a few cautious steps toward the exit. Now that she is prepared for the pain, she is able to make her protesting muscles obey.
Watching Lilian’s careful progress, Chrys quickly secures his slate and follows her. “I will escort you to the Dispensary.”
»◊«
“Master Chin, it nears midday.” Lilian anxiously encourages Serengeti’s master medic to finish his exam.
“Another deep breath,” Chin instructs as he delicately probes Lilian’s swollen sternum, where a bruise is blossoming. His almond-shaped, deep-set black eyes are intent, the mobile mouth is a thin line of concentration. Broad featured, with sharp cheekbones and a blade of a nose, Chin has a golden complexion topped by dark, tightly curling hair kept short. “Again, please.”
“Master Chin, truly it is but muscle strain.” Lilian twitches impatiently. “Ointment—”
“Lilian, I believe I am the medic,” Chin chides lightly. In his early sixties, the slender man moves with precise grace as he turns his attention to Lilian’s back. “Raise your arms.”
“Yes, Master Medic.” Lilian acknowledges the rebuke, barely swallowing a hiss at the burn when she obediently raises her arms.
“Foolish. You should have come to me immediately.” Chin continues his chiding and his probing.
“I did not think I was hurt,” Lilian defends. “I have had worse.”
“I am well of aware of it, and that is not reassuring,” Chin counters as he moves away. “That you have survived several severe assaults is no cause to ignore minor ones.”
“Only one assault was severe,” Lilian protests. “The other two did not result in much damage.”
“That only one assault resulted in broken bones does not alter the situation,” Chin speaks from the far end of the chamber. Lilian’s attempt to turn toward the sound of the Medic’s voice is thwarted when a sharp pain lances along her neck and spine.
“Lilian, be still,” Chin instructs, returning to the examination table. Taking her left hand, Chin turns it palm up while pushing a juice pouch into her right. “Drink this.”
Ignoring Chin’s cursory examination of the contraception tattoo on her left palm, Lilian dubiously eyes the juice. The small black tattoo is but a month old and has not yet started to fade to scarlet in warning of returning fertility. Chin’s potion-laced juice has a tendency to lower her inhibitions and loosen her tongue. It is not a state in which Lilian wishes to attend milord.
With a snort, Chin answers the unspoken question. “It will relax your muscles and relieve the pain. It will not make you silly.”
“Thank you, Master Medic.” Lilian reaches for her blouse. She can drink the juice on her way to milord and midday attendance.
“Lilian, I said be still.” The medic halts her motion.
“But Master Medic, midday,” Lilian protests.
“Lucius can wait.” Chin dismisses the powerful warrior. “I need to treat that blow to your sternum and the four on your back and shoulders.”
“Four, Master Medic?” Lilian had not thought the pummeling limbs of the other passengers had made much impact. “I thought it muscle strain.”
“Which is why you should not attempt to be your own medic,” Chin scolds as he applies yellow healer’s sealant to the swollen and bruised area of Lilian’s sternum. The cool substance tingles slightly and then warms.
With a resigned sigh, Lilian opens the juice pouch and begins to sip. For reasons of his own, milord has released Lilian from all but the first and fourth strictures in her dealings with the Master Medic. Lilian must put milord’s will first, and she may not permit carnal access to her person. Other than that, Lilian is free to counsel with the medic on any matter that concerns her. It is a remarkable grace for which Lilian is extremely grateful.
“I need you to remove the belt so I can treat your hip,” Chin announces, giving a small push to the gold belt that encircles Lilian’s hips.
I am the sum of my ancestors. Milord’s belt cannot be removed. The clasp lock is sealed with milord’s DNA. Lilian understands how the belt symbolizes both milord’s protection and possession. She does not care to share its secret. After a brief hesitation, Lilian lifts the belt to her torso and away from her hips. “Milord wills that I do not remove it.”
“Do not be foolish. Lucius will understand,” Chin sn
aps back.
“Please, Master Chin,” Lilian begs, heat flushing her cheeks. “I am already on the wrong side of milord’s will.”
Lilian fears the medic will insist. In the Cartel, he is the only one who fails to give milord the deference of his title. Chin can override milord’s will when it is a medical matter. At the cool tingle of Chin’s sealant against her hip, Lilian sighs in relief. Milord will not be pleased by the delay in Lilian’s attendance, but he will not hold her at fault. Lilian prefers not to imagine Milord’s reaction to being summoned to remove the warbelt.
»◊«
Milord slowly circles Lilian, examining the results of Chin’s treatment. In addition to a palm-sized patch of healer’s sealant over her solar plexus, Lilian has four additional patches on her back and one on her right hip that partly obscures her raven-wing-shaped tattoo.
Reserved for warriors, the small blue-black mark indicates that Lilian is consecrated to Adelaide Warleader, one of the Twelve Systems’ six deities. Spiritual consecration is restricted to the warrior class in recognition of their genetic descent from the deities. In Lilian’s case, although she was stripped of her warrior status, she could not be stripped of her affiliation to Adelaide.
Lucius’ fingers feather along the patch and the tattoo, sending a shiver of reaction through Lilian. “Does it pain you?”
The tattoo is a symbolic rendering of the two intersecting marks that Lucius’ patron deity, Socraide Omsted, is believed to have left on Adelaide during their epic battle. That it resembles a raven’s wing never fails to please Lucius.
“No, milord. Master Chin gave me one of his potions.” Lilian shivers again as Lucius traces her shoulders. “Master Chin promised it would not make me silly.”
Pity, Lucius thinks as he continues to test Lilian’s responses. She is so forthcoming when under the influence of Chin’s potions. When it comes to the affairs of Blooded Dagger or Serengeti, Lilian’s brilliant mind is open to him. She eagerly shares thoughts and ideas. For anything of a personal nature, Lucius has found her as difficult to mine as a Vistrite Crevasse. The only other time Lucius is able to breach her formidable reserve is in the aftermath of passion, a situation he exploits at every opportunity.