by E G Manetti
Satisfied that Trevelyan is on the right path, Lucius shifts to a topic of greater importance. “What of Tiger Sylvester’s complaint?”
Glad to move on, Trevelyan picks up his cup. “It is as Monsignor believed. There is no truth to the charge of deviant behavior. Raphael’s quarrel was not with the doxy but another patron who took offense when Raphael lured the woman away from him.”
“And Tiger?” Lucius asks softly.
“He regrets the inconvenience he caused Monsignor.” Trevelyan smiles.
“How much regret?” Lucius’ lips quirk.
“A split lip and dislocated shoulder in addition to dropping the charges.” Trevelyan’s smile broadens to a grin. Beating a helpless apprentice may not sit well with the spymaster. Correcting a thug who trumped up scurrilous charges against Raphael is another matter entirely.
“Well enough,” Lucius nods. “Although, I dislike it that Tiger’s boldness grows with each season.”
Finishing his tea, Trevelyan abandons his cup. “He has finally gained complete control of the Third System’s decadents trade, as well as this system’s branch of the assassins guild. There are rumors he has reached into the Eighth System.”
Lucius is not concerned about the criminality. Eradicating crime is impossible and not necessarily desirable. From time to time, Lucius’ will is best served by illegal means. What cannot be permitted is for any enterprise, legal or illegal, to reach a point where it can defy Lucius or challenge his control of the Third System. “Complete control? Decadents and hire killings? Tiger is increasingly ambitious.”
“And increasingly well funded,” Trevelyan snorts. “His legitimate Indulgence and Odds Management enterprises are expanding even more rapidly than his criminal ventures.”
“Odds Management?” Lucius is suddenly alert. Slaying Tiger might not solve the problem. His enterprises might simply be taken over by a lieutenant. However, through Odds Management, there may be a way to regain control of the wily raider.
“Yes, Monsignor.” Trevelyan notes Lucius’ steepled fingers and braces for developments. “He controls three-quarters of Metricelli Prime’s Odds Management and around two-thirds system wide.”
Lucius’ eyes narrow, and a small smile curves his lips. Trevelyan’s operatives are varied and subtle, one in particular will be of help in this instance. “Trevelyan, alert Mr. Stone that he and his friends will be required to lay some last-minute wagers on Moon Race day.”
3. Pardon
After ratifying the Code of Engagement and the Governing Protocols, the Five Warriors established judgement councils to settle disputes and promote their ambitions without the armed conflict that could open the gateway to another Anarchy. As the Three Systems expanded into additional systems, governance became more complex, and formal judgement councils were convened, incorporating warriors from the three Pillars of Order: commercial, civil, and spiritual. From these judgement councils, the modern Governing Council evolved. Comprised of the cartels, the system governors, and the Shrines, the Governing Council upholds the Order of the Five Warriors and protects the Twelve Systems from the reemergence of anarchy.
For the past four centuries, the Matahorn Alliance has been first among the cartels, giving the Margovian dynasty control of the Commerce Pillar and the leadership of the Governing Council. ~excerpt from Modern Governance, an instructional text.
Sevenday 49 Day 5
I am the sum of my ancestors. It is naught but lingerie. I am the foundation of my family. It has been two days. Any who cared have lost interest. Honor is my blade and shield. Lilian resists the urge to pull her slate satchel to her chest as she strides briskly from the risers and onto the thirty-fifth storey of Serengeti. Here the offices and worksites are larger than those on the other Blooded Dagger associate levels. The fabricated gray is replaced with cherry wood, the touches of gold and scarlet more prevalent. More sparsely populated than the other levels, the corridors are easily navigated.
Honor knows not fear. Lilian turns toward the black enamel doors of milord’s commerce suite. You are well ahead of time. Do not race.
Resolutely avoiding the gazes of the few others in the corridor and those already at their work sites, Lilian hastens toward milord’s suite and the haven of milord’s conference chamber. She knows she is being ridiculous. It changes naught. Honor endures.
“Lilian! Hold a moment!” Clarice’s familiar voice calls from several paces behind Lilian’s rapidly moving form.
“Clarice?” Lilian slows and turns, the unexpected encounter dispelling Lilian’s preoccupation with her lingerie.
Dressed in the mufti of a Cartel apprentice, Clarice is delicately built and diminutive. Her honey-toned complexion and oval face frame black almond-shaped eyes and a lush mouth. She wears her long, straight black hair in a warrior’s queue similar to Lilian’s. Along with Chrys and Rebecca, Clarice is part of Lilian’s skill consortium, an arrangement Lilian instigated for the four apprentices to share their skills and help each other survive the routine taunting and challenges that are an apprentice’s lot. To Lilian’s relief and surprise, milord did not take exception to the unconventional arrangement, although he did require her assurance that Blooded Dagger security-privilege would be protected.
Lilian can think of no reason the Cartel Legalistics apprentice would be given access to milord’s strictly controlled storey. “What is it? What do you here?”
Clarice’s bright smile spreads into a huge grin as she dances up to Lilian. “Shades’ Grace! Seigneur Herman has acquired my bond!”
“What say you?” Lilian gawks at the announcement. “We thought the seigneur might attach you to Mercium, but take you as an apprentice? Truly?”
“Yes, it is true.” Clarice nods excitedly. “It only happened this morning. I have barely had time to move my worksite to the Iron Hammer section. Now I am to join the Mercium review.”
Mercium! The review is but minutes away. There is no time to celebrate Clarice’s stunning advancement from Cartel apprentice to the servant of a Serengeti department head. Lilian inclines her head toward the double-width black doors. “Come, I will make you known to the monsignor’s executive servitor, Marieth.”
“Mistress Marieth?” Clarice excitedly trips along with Lilian’s longer strides. “Truly?”
“You are apprenticed to the Serengeti Legalistics Seigneur,” Lilian reminds Clarice. “You will often be with Seigneur Herman when he attends the monsignor. You must be known to Mistress Marieth.”
»◊«
Seigneurs Trevelyan and Aristides are sitting silent and relaxed on opposite sides of the conference table, neither man projecting the simmering hostility commonly found between Grey Spear and Blooded Dagger.
Serengeti’s Media Management Seigneur is a slender whippet of a man with a hazelnut complexion that goes to dusk as it covers finely hewn features in which reside soft brown eyes. Aristides is also left-handed, judging by Douglas’ position behind his lord’s right shoulder. Lilian is extremely curious about the man who holds Douglas’ bond, knowing that Aristides’ shadow must be deep if it could shelter Douglas from Martin’s reprisals for treating her with courtesy.
In contrast to his lord, Douglas is almost perfectly proportioned by warrior standards, with broad shoulders, a solid torso, and heavily muscled legs and arms. His complexion is as pale as Katleen’s but lacks her freckles. His strong, square features are marked with a hooked blade of a nose, pale green eyes, and light brown hair.
Neither seigneur acknowledges Clarice or Lilian as they enter silently, Lilian taking her place behind and to the left of milord’s chair, and Clarice against the back wall until Seigneur Herman arrives. Douglas offers a brief flicker of his eyes in acknowledgement, and Rebecca smiles brightly from behind Trevelyan’s left shoulder.
“Seigneurs.” Milord enters with Herman, motioning Trevelyan and Aristides to remain seated. With another gesture, milord sends the Legalistics Seigneur to sit at Trevelyan’s left, Clarice sliding into her place
behind him as unobtrusively as a shadow. The Iron Hammer warrior is a man of late middle years with heavy features, cinnamon skin, black eyes and straight black hair that skims his tunic collar. Neither handsome nor ugly, Herman exudes intelligence and competence.
“Seigneur Aristides,” milord begins, bringing the wall reviewer to life with a touch.
“Yes, Monsignor.” Aristides turns toward the reviewer. “As reported, demand for Mercium is surpassing initial projections. With some adaptation of our marketing approach, Serengeti can increase the demand by another twenty percent.”
“What of the Governing Council?” Milord impatiently halts the discussion of market penetration. “All this is pointless without our protocols.”
All commerce enterprises are licensed by the civil authorities, the scope of the enterprise determining the level of jurisdiction: local, planetary, system or, in the case of Mercium, the Twelve Systems Governing Council. A new substance, Mercium requires the Governing Council to enact new intellectual property protocols, as well as license Blooded Dagger and Serengeti in the manufacture, distribution, and sale of Mercium. Herman’s well-crafted protocols will be up for a Governing Council vote within a month. It is a vote that Lucius intends to own.
With a slight nod and no change in his politely pleasant expression, Aristides alters the reviewer display. Of the four-hundred-ninety members of the Governing Council, two-hundred-five in favor, one-hundred-thirty opposed, and the other one-hundred-fifty-five undecided. “As Monsignor can see, Serengeti needs ninety-five additional votes to achieve Governing Council agreement.”
“Of course the Orion League is opposed,” milord notes. “They will resist any measure that moves Serengeti closer to replacing Orion as third among the cartels.”
“The Eleventh and Twelfth Systems’ governors will not be swayed,” continues Aristides. “Those free-trader systems would like nothing better than the freedom to imitate Mercium.”
With a shrug, Trevelyan comments, “It is not surprising they would prefer to fabricate Mercium locally than import it and pay Matahorn duties.”
Waving his seigneurs silent, milord studies the reviewer. “Why is Jonathan’s Sect opposed? Any significant increase in Serengeti wealth can only benefit them.”
The sect of Jonathan Metricelli, the Fourth Warrior, has its largest population in the Third System, which was Jonathan’s home. Increases in Serengeti wealth translate into increases in Third System wealth and financial support to Jonathan’s Sect.
“Lord Gideon is concerned that Mercium will undermine Vistrite, which is sacred to the Fourth Warrior,” Aristides replies without inflection.
Lilian barely controls the urge to roll her eyes in Katleen’s manner at the ridiculousness of Lord Gideon’s position. Clearly, Lord Gideon resists Mercium for another reason.
Milord’s lips thin, his eyes narrowing in displeasure. “Jonathan’s Prelate Gideon is no such fool. What is his real reason?”
“Horatio Margovian’s will,” Aristides returns blandly.
What says he? Lilian is shocked. Horatio Margovian, Preeminence of the Matahorn Group, is the most powerful warrior in the Twelve Systems. Matahorn is also a partner in Bright Star. Why would he interfere in Mercium and risk a quarrel with milord?
Trevelyan snorts with derision. “Monsignor Horatio still has his tail in a twist over Serengeti gaining Bright Star shares at Matahorn expense?”
Herman comments, “It might be the first time since Monsignor Horatio took control of Matahorn that he has experienced a loss of such significance.”
“Horatio does not like to lose,” milord murmurs, his fingers steepling.
Recalling the proud and fierce Matahorn warrior from the Bright Star negotiations, Lilian agrees with milord’s assessment. Monsignor Horatio is definitely capable of such an intrigue in retaliation for his Bright Star loss. Milord’s hooded gaze and deceptively relaxed stillness indicate he is plotting. This will prove interesting, Lilian thinks.
“He is not a fool,” milord adds softly. “He wants something.”
It is a measure of Trevelyan’s relationship with milord that without being addressed, he volunteers, “Bright Star advantage? To recoup some of what he lost?”
“A trade?” Milord nods, his eyes narrowing and lips firming. Dangerous silk enters the soft voice. “He must know we would penetrate his deception. He is waiting for us to come to him and plead.”
Around the table, the seigneurs shift and nod in agreement except for Aristides whose expression increases in blandness that does not quite mask a hint of wariness.
“Seigneur Aristides, display the projections for Mercium demand in the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems,” milord directs.
At milord’s quiet instruction, Seigneur Aristides’ eyes widen briefly and the wariness disappears. Tension Lilian had not noticed slides from the seigneur’s shoulders as with a flick of his slate, Aristides complies. Sebastian Mehta’s violent outbursts at the least thwarting of his will are renowned throughout the Cartel. Had Seigneur Aristides truly expected the same from milord?
“Lilian, project Matahorn’s income from the duty on Mercium in those systems.” Milord’s voice holds a thread of anticipation.
At milord’s words, Lilian quickly ignites her slate. All Eleventh and Twelfth system imports and exports must pass through the Matahorn orbiting supply depots and pay an import/export fee. The arrangement is a source of immense wealth to Matahorn and the Margovians. Tightening her lips against a sudden desire to smile as she comprehends milord’s cleverness, Lilian rapidly executes the calculations and hands her slate to milord.
Milord’s eyes narrow, and his predatory smile appears as he turns the slate toward the seigneurs. “This should change Horatio’s opinion.”
With surprised murmurs and raised eyebrows, all three men concur. The Eleventh and Twelfth Systems’ duties on Mercium imports will be staggering. Far more than even one of Horatio Margovian’s power can dismiss without his Cartel questioning his commerce judgement.
“It is no wonder the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems are so hostile to the Matahorn supply depots. These duty fees are extraordinary,” Aristides remarks with a hint of shock. “With these numbers, his Matahorn rivals could remove Horatio Margovian for lack of commerce judgement.”
It is no easy thing to remove a cartouche or a cartel preeminence, but it can be done with strong evidence that commerce judgement has failed. This would be strong evidence indeed.
“Probably not,” milord counters. “Horatio has Matahorn in an iron grip. Compared to the vastness of Matahorn wealth, it is not enough.”
“Nonetheless, it could cost him dearly, if it became known,” Herman follows and is rewarded with milord’s approving smile.
“I can see to it that Monsignor Horatio is aware we have this information,” Trevelyan offers.
“Seigneur Aristides, among the undecided, how close are we to completing a purchase?” milord inquires.
“A moment, Monsignor.” Aristides resets the reviewer. Half the undecided change to in favor. “Three days for those indicated. The others will take longer, and the last few will hold out for the highest price.”
“With Jonathan’s Sect, those you indicate will carry the vote with votes to spare,” Herman comments. “We would not need to pay the more avaricious.”
Lilian is certain milord’s lips twitch as he instructs, “Seigneur Aristides, complete your purchases. As soon as you have those votes, set the Governing Council vote for two days. Trevelyan, as soon as Seigneur Aristides has those votes, see to it that Horatio Margovian has these projections. He’ll reverse his position, and Jonathan’s Sect will support Mercium.”
»◊«
“What think you of Seigneur Aristides?” milord questions from behind Lilian. His fingers slide feather-light against her back, exploring the lightly discolored patches where Chin’s ointments have washed away with Lilian’s morning shower. Milord’s delicate touch ignites answering quivers in places far removed from
milord’s hands. Lackwit. Focus. What was milord’s question? Aristides. “I believe the seigneur’s pleasant demeanor and easy manner mask a sharp, manipulative mind.”
“It does indeed,” milord murmurs approvingly against the curve where Lilian’s neck and shoulders meet. The graze of milord’s lips and the caress of warm breath have Lilian tilting her head to offer access and invite further contact.
Milord is pleased to oblige, biting gently as his hands slide forward to cup and fondle Lilian’s breasts. “And his plans to control the Governing Council vote?”
Inhaling sharply to resist the temptation to lean back into milord, Lilian responds, “Milord’s counter of Monsignor Horatio’s intrigue was exceptionally devious.”
“I asked about Aristides’ plans. Not mine,” milord rebukes, lightly flicking the tender tips of Lilian’s breasts.
At the sweetly sharp contact, Lilian arches into milord even as her mind clears. “For Mercium, I believe the seigneur has a ninety-nine point seven six three percent probability of success.”
Milord’s frame shudders in an odd way. His question is strangely choked. “One hundred percent? A certainty?”
“No, milord!” Lilian ceases to move, shocked that milord has misunderstood her response. “There is almost a quarter of a point of uncertainty.”
Milord shudders again. His arms wrap tightly around Lilian’s torso as he buries his face in her hair with another strange choking sound. What does he? Is he angered? Unwell? Unable to see milord or hear his voice, Lilian is in a quandary. Should she turn and tend to her lord or remain as he has placed her? I am the sum of my ancestors. If milord is in distress, Lilian must aid him. I am the foundation of my family. With a deep breath, Lilian shifts to her toes for a turn.
Before she can move, milord spins her about and thrusts her up against the back of the scarlet couch. Milord’s eyes are dancing with mirth. Milord’s lips are twitching with barely contained laughter. Laughter? What? Milord’s lips are on Lilian’s, his hands molding her tightly to his long frame.