by E G Manetti
Currently, her battered form arouses no lust, only a combination of compassion and annoyance. It is the annoyance Lucius voices. “Why did you wait so long to visit Chin?”
“I thought it naught but muscle strain, and Chrys needed me in the Mercium lab,” Lilian explains, eyeing milord warily. Being nude in milord’s presence has long since ceased to trouble Lilian. She is far more concerned with milord’s mood and will. After this morning’s transgressions, she wishes no more errors added to the list. Her lack of attention to her physical well-being could be considered defiance since her body is milord’s to enjoy and is hardly in a fit state.
Moving to face Lilian, milord negligently pushes the warrior’s queue back over her shoulder to allow him to trace the patch just below her breasts. The light graze of his knuckles on the underside of one breast elicits more shivers, the peak lightly pebbling in reaction.
Lilian’s ready response to his touch pleases Lucius as it has from the first. The mention of Mercium also pleases him, as does his recall of Lilian’s essential role in its inception. Mercium will not only seal Lucius’ claim as third among the cartels, but with the addition of Bright Star, it will eventually enable Serengeti to claim second. The ten most powerful cartels dominate the Twelve Systems’ Governing Council. The higher the rank within the ten, the more power and influence the Cartel exerts over all aspects of commerce and life in the Twelve Systems. Currently, there are only a hundred warriors in the Twelve Systems more powerful than Lucius. When Serengeti locks its claim on third among the cartels, that number will be halved. Unable to resist, Lucius uses his thumbs to tease the lovely rose nipples into tight peaks.
Lilian’s eyes darken and widen in reaction, her breath catching as she unconsciously tightens her shoulders to offer him better access.
Her eager obedience engenders a pleasant heaviness in his loins that tempts Lucius to further exploration. It will not serve. Lucius acquired Lilian’s bond because he needed her exceptional brilliance to assess the risk and complexities of stellar exploration. The addition of Mercium has strained the resources of his Cartouche , including his apprentice. The morning’s disaster has increased her stress. She needs time to recover.
Lucius will not fault her for failing to attend the medic in a timely fashion, but he will not yield to Chin’s blunt chiding or his own inclination and give her his pardon. Chin’s criticism is evidence that Lilian’s correction has been noted by the Cartel. It is important for her safety that it be so. Any sign of leniency will give her enemies cause to challenge her trial. Stepping away, Lucius instructs, “Dress and go. Find a midday meal.”
Sevenday 49 Day 4
Spinning away from a punch and kick combination, Lilian vaults a stone bench. Pivoting on her toes, she catches her assailant’s arm and propels the attacker toward the far wall. With a controlled tumble, the attacker reverses motion and launches herself toward Lilian. Garbed in gray to Lilian’s black, Helena Faesetili continues her relentless training assault on her eldest child.
The early morning stiffness in Lilian’s strained muscles has eased with the exercise. The lingering pain from her bruises is insignificant in the heat of battle. Unless she is bedridden, Lilian trains. True adversaries will not stay their blows in deference to soreness and wounds. For another half period, two dark shadows flicker through the dawn-pale courtyard, converging and separating among the courtyard pillars and benches. A failed feint sends Lilian tumbling across a bench and away from her attacker to the sound of insistent warning pings from the weapons cabinet—Lilian’s slate announcing the time is done.
Pulling free her protective face mask, Lilian heads to the weapons cabinet while Helena reaches for a water vial on the tray set inside the dry fountain. Mask stored, thorn and slate retrieved, Lilian reaches the fountain as Helena drops to a bench, taking a long swallow of water. A master of Sinead’s Discipline, Helena does not bother with a mask for unarmed sparring. Lilian has no such latitude. By Lucius Mercio’s will, within her stone training chamber, Lilian wears a mask.
Grabbing the tray that holds a nut roll, fruit, and green tea, Lilian joins her mother on a bench. Side by side, the resemblance between the two women is notable. Slightly shorter than Lilian, Helena has the same trim athleticism, her lighter hair a true auburn and her paler skin softly dusted with freckles across her cheekbones. The gray eyes are the same, as are the sculpted features, Helena’s but lightly traced with the lines that are the only indication that she is in her late forties. With a reasonable expectation of one-hundred-twenty years, the seer has only recently passed from the first youth.
“Maman, Katleen…” Lilian begins and then is uncertain how to proceed. Katleen was abed when Lilian returned from the Cartel, making reconciliation impossible.
“Morose and merry, lazy and loving, raging and rejoicing,” Helena lightly singsongs, using her seer’s voice. “Seasons in, seasons out, all grows, all goes.”
There will be no aid from Maman in this, Lilian thinks. Bound to late bells at the Cartel, making amends with Katleen will need to wait until Seventh Day liberty.
“Eat, Daughter.” Helena interrupts Lilian’s glum thoughts. “There is no pattern for you to correct. Continue to love her, and all will be well. Katleen will grow as the Shades will it.”
Obediently spearing a piece of fruit, Lilian easily interprets her mother’s cryptic statements. Well into her twelfth year, Katleen’s moodiness and volatility are not uncommon. “My thanks, Maman. Was I so?”
“You were different,” Helena replies with a small smile. “Always intent on finding the pattern, solving the riddle. Knowing.”
“That does not sound so difficult.” Lilian swallows her fruit and reaches for her tea. “Mayhap I should try to interest Katleen in puzzles.”
“Do not,” Helena laughs. “All that intensity was exhausting. Imagine it coupled with Katleen’s volatility.”
Biting her lip at the unwelcome image, Lilian nods. “Perhaps—”
“Cease, child!” Helena holds up a restraining hand. “Did I not voice that Katleen is not a pattern for you to decipher and correct?”
Chagrined, Lilian nods her obedience. Lilian is skeptical of her mother’s ‘visions,’ but she does not discount them entirely. Whether the singsong was a true vision or Helena playing ‘The Seer’ matters not. Helena is Lilian’s mother and will be honored to the best of Lilian’s ability.
“Good.” Helena nods her approval at Lilian’s obedience. “Now, hasten. It will not serve for you to be late to the Cartel.”
»◊«
“Well done, Trevelyan, Solomon.” Lucius shutters the large reviewer on the wall across from the scarlet couch. “With your operatives and Commandant Sheila’s militia, the Western Continent Mercium facility will be secure until we succeed in returning it to Seigneur Thorvald’s care.”
In addition to the Serengeti Cartel Militia, Blooded Dagger licenses its own, smaller militia, as do all cartouches. In addition to augmenting the Serengeti Militia that guards the Vistrite mining and refining operations, Commandant Shelia and her forces protect Lucius and his seigneurs and make certain that Blooded Dagger secrets remain secret. Now, until Lucius brings Sebastian Mehta to heel, the commandant is also the militia caretaker for all aspects of Mercium.
Rising from the sofa, Lucius leads the way to his comfortable seating area, Lilian unobtrusively in his wake. As the three warriors take their seats, Lilian discreetly refreshes tea that has cooled during the review.
“Solomon, how will you overturn Sebastian’s obstruction and return Mercium to Thorvald’s care?” Lucius asks his Vistrite Seigneur.
A close kinsman and milord’s second in command for all things Vistrite, Solomon is a fair-skinned man of seventy-plus years with brown hair and eyes. The sweet, round face, relaxed manner, and short, slender build often mislead rivals into underestimating the seigneur. Having observed the seigneur in the training chambers, Lilian knows that the narrow build is well muscled and impressively quick.
“How broad?” Milord’s voice holds a smile in response to Solomon’s twinkle.
“Broadly enough that if applied routinely to Cartel operations, it would disqualify all of the Grey Spear supply depots and transport hangars.” Solomon is openly grinning.
“Cost to Grey Spear?” milord asks, abruptly tightening his fingers on his cup. To support the distribution of Vistrite, Grey Spear operates a massive transport network protected by the Serengeti Militia at cost to the Cartel, not Grey Spear alone. From what Solomon has said, if Grey Spear refuses to protect Mercium, milord can refuse to protect the transport network.
His grin disappearing under surprise and then chagrin, Solomon responds, “I am not certain. Significant, for certain.”
“Lilian, can you estimate?” milord asks without turning.
“I beg a moment, milord,” Lilian murmurs, rapidly tapping her slate. She does not have access to Grey Spear financials, but as conservator of Desperation, she knows what a militia shift costs. “Milord, it is not exact. There is a potential deviation of point zero six one seven three.”
“Lilian.” Milord shakes his head slightly, holding out his hand.
Wordlessly, Lilian hands over her slate. A moment later, milord chuckles, “It might almost be worth it. It would slice Grey Spear’s annual Cartel revenue by more than fifteen percent.”
“They would impeach Monsignor Sebastian for lack of commerce judgement.” Trevelyan joins milord’s light laughter. A tall, robust man of fifty-plus years, his erect posture, precisely creased suit, close-cropped brown hair, and sharp, no-nonsense manner bring to mind the militia. Lilian has found his nature to be closer to that of a free-trader.
“We would need to renegotiate every aspect of the Cartel Agreement if we were to pursue such a broad interpretation,” Solomon warns. “Although I agree, Monsignor. If it costs Grey Spear fifteen percent, it might be worth it.”
“Had we naught else to do, I might.” Lucius pulls back the slate. “As it is, between Mercium and Bright Star, we are too thinly spread to take on another massive task. With every intrigue we defeat, Sebastian weakens. This is but another. Solomon, consult Seigneur Herman, and then put Grey Spear in its place.”
»◊«
Plans complete, Solomon exits through the scarlet door while Lilian once again refreshes milord’s and Seigneur Trevelyan’s teas.
“Lilian, leave us,” milord says as Lilian sets the pot on a stand.
Collecting her slate from its resting place on a side table, Lilian shutters it and stows it in her satchel on her way to the scarlet door.
“Lilian.” At milord’s voice, Lilian turns to find milord gazing at her over steepled fingers.
“Yes, milord?” Lilian questions uncertainly. Milord does not appear displeased, and the steepled fingers often signal naught but contemplation.
“For the next few sevendays, should Master Martin approach you for any reason, you are required elsewhere.”
“Yes, milord,” Lilian acknowledges automatically, and then understanding dawns. The last time milord thwarted Grey Spear in such a spectacular manner, Grey Spear took revenge by setting Martin to beat Lilian mercilessly in a staged training chamber challenge. Milord will not have that disaster repeated. “My thanks, milord.”
For the first time in two days, Lilian’s step is light as she walks away.
Pleased at Lilian’s relaxation, Lucius savors the sway of her ass until it disappears beyond the scarlet threshold. Turning back to his spymaster, Lucius catches a scowl quickly smoothed away.
“What disturbs you?” Lucius asks. If Trevelyan sees a threat, Lucius will know it.
“Is it truly necessary to torment the girl?” Trevelyan nods at the door through which Lilian exited.
This again. Lucius is well aware that Trevelyan, once a Universalist, is completely opposed to indentured servitude. It was only to protect her from Grey Spear that Trevelyan accepted Rebecca as his apprentice.
“Mild humiliation is hardly a ‘torment.’ ” Lucius dismisses the topic.
“It is tormenting to Lilian,” Trevelyan insists. “And after all she has done, what error is so terrible?”
“She will not die from a few days of humiliation,” Lucius counters.
“Die, Monsignor? That is rather extreme.” Trevelyan politely contradicts his lord.
“Not in the least.” Lucius frowns. Truly, Trevelyan needs to understand this. “Lilian’s contributions to Cartel and Cartouche are not in question. She is an apprentice. When she errs, it must be corrected publicly for her good, as well as the good of the Cartouche and the Cartel.”
Poised to argue, Trevelyan stops. If there is any suggestion that Lilian’s trial has been eased by special treatment, it could mean a death sentence. “I am aware that Lilian’s trial cannot appear easy.”
At Lucius’ agreeable nod, Trevelyan adds, “But I fail to see how her torment is for the good of Blooded Dagger and Serengeti.”
It is as Lucius hoped. Trevelyan has opened a topic they need to discuss. “Trevelyan, enforcement of the Apprentice Protocol reminds all within the Cartel where their duty lies and the price of failure. Coddling an apprentice is a sign of laxity. Weakness. A warrior dare not appear weak.”
In the early days of his preeminence, Lucius’ unconventional tendencies were viewed as weakness. It encouraged his rivals to challenges that nearly unseated Lucius. The severity with which he responded bordered on cruelty. The Twelve Systems learned it was ill-advised to challenge Lucius’ will. Only Sebastian does so consistently, and Lucius is determined it will not be for much longer. Lucius has not forgotten what the appearance of weakness nearly cost him. Trevelyan will not fall prey to that error.
“We are no longer discussing Lilian, are we?” Trevelyan’s eyes narrow as he carefully places his cup on a side table.
“Rebecca is vulgar and irreverent,” Lucius pursues, pleased his spymaster is keeping up. “It was barely tolerable when she was a Cartel apprentice. It is unacceptable in one of Blooded Dagger.”
“You suggest I beat it out of her?” Trevelyan scowls.
“Do not put words in my mouth,” Lucius snaps. “It is possible to correct and instruct without belting.”
Stunned, Trevelyan sits and blinks. He has witnessed Lucius slay violently and without remorse. Corporal punishment is routine in the Twelve Systems. Only the Universalists, the small pacifist sect that clings to the shreds of the enlightenment that preceded the Anarchy, oppose it. Finally, he pushes out, “Monsignor?”
Demon shit. Lucius’ hesitation to belt Lilian is not something he wishes to ponder. Nor can he allow Trevelyan to think that such measures are avoidable. His spymaster must be able to do what is needed.
“Make no mistake, Trevelyan,” Lucius continues, “given sufficient cause, I will not hesitate to use corporal punishment. As it stands, Lilian responds readily to less severe methods.”
“Somehow, I do not believe lingerie deprivation will trouble Rebecca.” Trevelyan’s lips quirk at that thought. His apprentice was once the Cartel favorite and rumor suggests not overly given to lingerie.
“Belting did not cow her either, as I recall.” Lucius refers to a correction Rebecca received shortly before Trevelyan claimed her bond.
“Rebecca is made of sterner stuff than to cower for Damocles,” Trevelyan snorts. Both Lucius and Trevelyan loathe Damocles, a Grey Spear warrior and Cartel Security-privilege Seigneur. Briefly, Trevelyan savors the recall of pounding Damocles into the mats when challenged for Rebecca’s bond.
“And she is unlikely to come to order without your instruction. If necessary, consider her an enemy you must turn to our cause,” Lucius suggests. “You do that well enough.”
“You wish me to break the girl?” Trevelyan stiffens in horror.
“Break her?” Lucius clips out coldly. “Have
I broken Lilian or made any attempt to do so? Think you I am one such as Sebastian?”
Universe scatter me. Trevelyan cringes inwardly at the implication of his words. Lucius is very careful of his apprentice. She suffers naught of the torment that belongs to Sebastian Mehta’s abused apprentice, Tabitha. Although harsh, the Apprentice Protocol does not condone the viciousness with which Sebastian Mehta treats his bonded. Were it any other than Sebastian, Lucius could intervene. As it is, Lilian and her friends, with Trevelyan’s secret support and Lucius’ tacit approval, are working to free Tabitha from her master. At the thought of Tabitha, Trevelyan realizes that his distaste for indentured servitude has reached a new intensity while working to free the abused woman from the hell that is Sebastian Mehta’s ownership. It has colored his dealings with Rebecca and now brought him to insult Lucius.
“I beg your pardon, Monsignor.” With a deep sigh, Trevelyan admits, “I have allowed my anger over Mistress Tabitha’s lot to interfere with my judgement.”
“And for the good of Blooded Dagger, I pressured you to take Rebecca,” Lucius acknowledges, his affront ebbing.
“Which does not alter the fact that I have no notion of how to train an apprentice.” Trevelyan nearly chokes as he voices the word ‘apprentice.’
Apprentice. Lucius may have found the key to this puzzle. “Rebecca is a Blooded Dagger Associate. She must be worthy of the role and whatever you envision for her future.”
Trevelyan had nearly refused to take Rebecca. His Universalist training revolted at the notion of owning another soul. In the end, he agreed for Rebecca’s benefit, as much as for Lucius’ will. Now, in all honor, Trevelyan must find a way to meet his obligations to train the young woman for a place as a free associate within Blooded Dagger. She lacks not the wit or education. Her irreverence for warrior custom does not trouble Trevelyan; he shares it. However, there is no question, her manner is too crude for advancement. With a sigh, Trevelyan agrees, “Aye, Monsignor. She is bright enough and will do better with a little polish.”