by E G Manetti
“If you would aid me, promise me silence. More than aught else, you must not speak of this.” Lilian’s features slide into the stoic mask behind which she hides strong emotion.
Chrys and Rebecca exchange a worried glance. They know that expression and like it not. From her sudden tension, Katleen likes it not as well.
“Blooded Dagger?” Chrys whispers.
“Serengeti?” Rebecca breathes.
“The Shrines?” Katleen begs, recalling Lilian’s warning.
Honor knows not fear. “Monsignor may already know or suspect. I know not. If your seigneurs ask, you must answer, but I beg you, do not discuss this otherwise.”
“Exactly what are we not to discuss?” Chrys asks, irritation rising with his confusion and concern.
Honor endures. “Sometimes, not all the time, I can see patterns where none exist.”
“Lilian,” Chrys glances at her sideways, “you are a complexity and analytics prodigy. We know this.”
“It’s not the same, is it?” Rebecca says. “That’s what I saw this morning. When your eyes were weird and you were talking to yourself. You weren’t simply thinking.”
“Adelaide’s eyes?” Katleen asks, her concern disappearing like water in the sand. “That is what this is about?”
As one, the three adults turn to the child. Lilian is the first to find voice. “Adelaide’s eyes, sweetling?”
“You know. When you go seeking.” Katleen takes an unconcerned sip of water. At the continuing consternation of her elders, Katleen rolls her eyes. “Remember the time you worried about magicking Vistrite from the ground? You were with Adelaide long enough for me to buff your toenails.”
“Magic Vistrite?” Rebecca mouths at Chrys whose eyes narrow in return.
“Mercium.” Chrys and Lilian state simultaneously.
“Oh,” Katleen says. “I guess that makes sense. Lilian said I asked brilliant questions.”
“And so you did.” Lilian’s stoic expression softens. Turning to her friends, Lilian continues, “I do not know what Katleen means by ‘Adelaide’s eyes,’ but she is correct. That was one such episode. Another was when I found the pattern of fraud on Desperation—”
“I remember that,” Chrys breaks in. “You were motionless and you were mumbling. It was the strangest thing. One moment you were there—wherever there was—and then you were back. It was like I felt or heard something snap.”
“Adelaide left,” Katleen pronounces with casual certainty.
Before Lilian can pursue that statement, their meal arrives. For several minutes, conversation ceases while they wait for the servitor to leave.
“What is it like?” Rebecca asks as soon as it is safe.
Almost simultaneously, Chrys demands, “How do you make it happen?”
Blinking rapidly, Lilian swallows surprise at her friends’ ready acceptance. “You are both remarkably easy to convince.”
Shrugging in concert with Rebecca, Chrys replies, “I have witnessed several of these episodes and wondered. I know they are real. I am more interested in how they work.”
“It’s nice to know Chrys and I were right,” Rebecca adds, reaching for her wine.
Taking the questions in order, Lilian explains, “It is hard to describe. It is symbolic, but none that I could draw. Sometimes it is so complex, I can only view a small part. Other times, like this morning, I already had most of it and only needed a few symbols to know the whole.”
“Is it pretty?” from Katleen.
“Sometimes the pattern is beyond lovely,” Lilian says reverently. Squaring her shoulders, she adds, “Occasionally, they are disturbing. In either case, they fade within a few hours or a few days.”
“How do you call them?” Chrys repeats.
“I do not,” Lilian states baldy. “They come for no reason I can name and often will not come when I desire it most.”
“Of course not,” Katleen says scornfully. “You serve Adelaide, not the other way around.”
“You believe my episodes are Shade-sent?” Lilian holds her voice carefully neutral.
“You are different when they come,” Katleen explains. “Your eyes lose their color, and your voice changes. And it is like Chrys said. You are here and not here, and when it ends, I can almost hear it.”
“That’s what happened this morning,” Rebecca confirms.
“I could not see your eyes, but the rest is true enough,” Chrys adds.
“And they are more frequent since you were consecrated,” Katleen declares triumphantly.
“That could be due to naught but age,” Lilian challenges. “The episodes have increased steadily for as long as I can remember.”
“Are they dangerous?” Chrys asks.
“Only if discovered,” Lilian replies.
“How so?” Rebecca frowns.
“Listen to us,” Lilian huffs. “We are discussing my visions of patterns no one else sees, and Katleen is convinced they are Shade-sent.”
“And your mother, the Seer, is Shade-Ridden.” Rebecca uses the polite term for deranged.
“You are not deranged!” Chrys asserts.
“No, I am not,” Lilian agrees. “Although, I once feared it.”
“Lilian?” Katleen questions in concern.
“I fear it no longer,” Lilian dismisses quietly. “Were my wits to shatter, the events surrounding our ruin would have seen it done. No, I fear being thought Shade-ridden. Maman was my age when she was first declared Shade-touched and Sinead’s Seer. I do not wish to live out my life in the custody of the Shrines, no matter how benevolent.”
“Being Shade-touched does not mean you will be declared Shade-ridden,” Katleen interjects. “Maman’s derangement did not appear until after my birth.”
“Even Shade-touched would put me under Shrine supervision, if not in custody,” Lilian returns. “One more trial in addition to those I already face.”
“The Seer’s life seems pleasant enough,” Chrys gently interjects. If Lilian were declared Shade-touched and placed in the custody of the Shrines, she would be free of her trial.
“Maman holds prelate status,” Lilian explains. “Although her days are governed by shrine observance and ritual, she willingly chose shrine service before being ruled Shade-touched and Shade-ridden. Even with the liberty of prelate status, she is always escorted and cannot travel without the consent of Sinead’s Prelate.”
“Lord Santos has never restricted Maman’s travel,” Katleen puts in, referring to Sinead’s Lord Prelate.
“Lord Santos has known Maman since she was an acolyte and he Sinead’s Keeper here in the Garden Center,” Lilian reminds Katleen. “I could not expect similar indulgence from Adelaide’s Prelate. Nor as a mere shrine attendant would I be free to leave the Shrine Quarters, let alone the city.”
“That is why you do not wish this spoken in the shrines,” Katleen exclaims.
“And why we must be cautious in the Cartel,” Chrys says.
“There are many who would like to see you swept from Serengeti,” Rebecca nods. “They would embrace such an excuse.”
“And Monsignor?” Chrys wonders.
“I believe Monsignor would wish to know this,” Lilian sighs. “I can find no words.”
“Monsignor can read minds,” Rebecca says reassuringly. “You need not speak. If he doesn’t know by now, he will.”
“Rebecca, the story that Monsignor sold his soul to the First Warrior in return for supernatural aid is naught but a silly tale,” Lilian chides.
“Silly or not, the man is omniscient,” Rebecca contradicts. “Look at the whole business with Grey Spear over the cartouche shares in Bright Star. There is no way he thwarted that plot without the Shades’ Grace.”
Shade’s Grace? One of Lilian’s insights uncovered that intrigue. Is it possible Katleen is not wrong about Adelaide’s involvement? Superstition and foolishness. Lilian dismisses the thought. “Our meal grows cold. If there is naught else, let us discuss something new.”
“As you wish, Lilian,” Chrys agrees. “Although I believe you should find a means to voice this to Monsignor Lucius.”
Knowing Chrys is correct, Lilian nods. “I will discover a means. Now let us enjoy our meal.”
With murmurs of agreement, the quartet turns to their meal.
»◊«
“Another flying demon?” Rebecca questions Katleen about her newest entertainment, a Settlement Day purchase.
“Invaders from the beaconless expanse,” Katleen corrects eagerly, tripping along the sidewalk to her house and delighted by the attention of Lilian’s friends.
Shades’ Grace, Lilian muses.
“What say you, Lilian?” Chrys asks.
“I beg pardon, did I voice that?” At Chrys’ nod, Lilian shrugs. “The Shades have an odd notion of grace.”
“How so?” Chrys smiles. The day is ending, and he will prolong their time together if he can.
“If it were not for an oddity in the Faesetili trust, the house would not belong to Katleen.” Lilian gazes at the shuttered edifice in the middle of the block. “It would have been forfeited with everything else.”
“And?” Chrys prompts.
“That same grace placed my family in a crumbling pile of crevasse stone, set in the middle of the warrior elite. Those who despise us the most,” Lilian continues.
“It is safe, sound, and free of debt,” Chrys summarizes. “Bad neighbors are not an uncommon trial.”
“No, Chrys, they are not,” Lilian agrees. “As I voiced, the Shades have an odd sense of grace.”
“They have green skin and incredible weapons that let them cut right through walls,” Katleen’s bright chatter interrupts. “And transports that can appear out of nowhere.”
Watching Katleen as she displays her latest lurid entertainment, Lilian’s face lifts. “Grace enough, to be sure.”
Without a place to live, Lilian’s family would have been separated. Helena to the shrine, Lilian to the Associates’ Quarters, and Katleen to whatever charity might be willing to harbor Gariten’s tainted offspring. The young girl would not have survived long as a shrine beggar.
“Katleen, we must leave you now,” Chrys says, gently interrupting. They have arrived at the house, and Chrys may not enter without a proper chaperone. Even if Helena is within, her derangement precludes her from such duty.
“I will see you on First Day,” Chrys says to Lilian, handing her the small parcel of tarts he has carried from Hidaka’s Café.
“First Day,” Lilian echoes the goodbye.
“First Day,” Rebecca repeats as she joins Chrys on the walk to the public transport stop.
“Do you suppose Maman has returned from the shrine?” Katleen asks, mounting the stairs behind Lilian.
“We should check her chamber,” Lilian suggests, securing the door behind Katleen.
Climbing the steps to the second storey, Katleen says, “She wishes us to attend the shrines tomorrow.”
“I thought we would go late in the day. When the Final Day crowds have left to find an evening meal,” Lilian responds. The final day of the year is a day for making shrine offerings and petitioning the Shades for aid.
“So we will go to the River Quarter in the morning?” Katleen questions.
“Of course, sweetling,” Lilian replies. “You need your race training, and there is no reason to think our modest disguises have lost effect.”
“You are not annoyed by the renewed media coverage?” Katleen turns down the corridor to their mother’s bedchamber.
“It is unfortunate that Master Fletcher’s race success brought on a renewed interest in the festival brawl,” Lilian concedes. “I had hoped our images had begun to fade in people’s minds. As it is, we will be a few more sevendays ‘hiding in plain sight,’ as Seigneur Trevelyan puts it.”
After the festival brawl media frenzy, Lilian and Katleen’s faces were easily recognized by those who wished harm to Remus Gariten’s heirs. With the help of Trevelyan’s operatives, they devised protective camouflage that serves well enough in areas where they are not well known. In their own neighborhood, they receive regular insult but are in little danger of assault. Few among the Third System warrior caste are willing to risk Lucius Mercio’s wrath for violating his property rights.
“I have not seen the seigneur since he was ‘Master’ Trevelyan,” Katleen comments, reaching the open door to Helena’s chamber.
“The seigneur continues to reside in the River Quarter,” Lilian says, following her sister into the chamber. “Whether we will encounter the seigneur tomorrow, I cannot say.”
“All cats are warriors at heart,” Helena remarks, precisely applying pigment to a sketched waterfall that cascades down the wall nearest her bed. It is the latest addition to the murals created by the deranged woman. The most complete is the wall opposite the bed. What Lilian has come to consider milord’s panel.
In a nighttime forest with an ominous overcast sky, a large, dappled cat hunts an evil-looking pack of rats, a tree-troll guarding the cat’s back. There can be no doubt that the great cat is Lucius Mercio and the tree-troll is Mr. George. Among the rats, there is a cat in disguise, Seigneur Trevelyan, the spymaster, while over the Lucius cat’s head, a nightingale sings in the tree, unmistakably Lucius’ spouse, Lady Estella.
Opposite the chamber entrance, the double doors that open to an empty balcony are surrounded with a half-completed fruit grove. The trees are adorned with odd amber-green fruit, ripening oranges mayhap, and a variety of birds, including an owl that looks like Clarice. Beneath the trees, a clever-looking fox resembles Seigneur Garwynn, the Financials Seigneur. Behind the fox, Seigneur Rachelle in the guise of the mythical coyote carries a rock-gnome by the collar, Master Magnus the Mercium chemist. Stepping carefully through a small stream is a stork with a pensive expression, Master Simon, the Mercium Research and Development associate. In the sky, a Lilian-raven darts about with a flock of birds, Chrys and Rebecca as fellow ravens and Douglas as a hawk. Below the hawk is a bright-eyed mongoose. The mongoose is a recent addition and oddly familiar, but Lilian cannot quite make the connection.
Completing the developing murals, the wall that contains the chamber entrance holds the beginnings of a starry night sky; like the waterfall, it is mostly sketched with only a few touches of color.
As much as she would like to dismiss her mother’s murals as flights of delusion, Lilian cannot. Many of the figures from the Cartel are well known in the shrines and could easily have been the source of Helena’s murals. There is no way to explain how Rebecca appeared as a raven a month before Master Trevelyan was elevated to seigneur and acquired Rebecca’s bond from the Cartel pool. More importantly, before he was a seigneur, Trevelyan lived in the shadows. There is simply no way Helena could have known him, known that he was the Blooded Dagger spymaster, and, most importantly, known that he served milord in the pirate actions.
“Cats, Maman?” Katleen asks, peering at Lucius panel. “What of the cats?”
“Excellent for rodents,” Helena responds, putting aside her paints. “Not as effective with snakes. The mongoose will serve Lilian much better. It is well to have a mongoose in your court.”
“Yes, Maman,” Lilian agrees. It is not the first time Helena has insisted that the mongoose is somehow intertwined with Lilian’s fate. Once again, Lilian makes a mental note to watch for someone who resembles the painted mongoose.
“Maman, we brought you some of Mr. Hidaka’s strawberry tarts.” Katleen pulls the small package from Lilian.
Eyes alight, Helena reaches for the pastries. “It is the height of the season. They will be delicious.”
7. A New Year
All Serengeti commerce contracts commence and conclude on the First Day of Metricelli Prime’s new year. The Serengeti Group First Day begins at eighth bell with the induction of the new apprentices, associates, and protégés. By tenth bell, all the new associates are dismissed to their worksites. From tenth bell to midday is dedicated to the bond proof of th
e Cartel’s indentured associates. The release of the bonded may be witnessed by all free associates and ranked members of Serengeti, any of whom have the right to challenge the bond proof. In the event of a dispute, the governing monsignors determine whether to uphold the challenge or dismiss it. ~excerpt from The Serengeti Group Articles of Commerce (The Cartel Agreement).
Sevenday 51, Day 2 (Bonded year 2, Sevenday 1, Day 2)
Searching for Tabitha’s worksite in the city-sized block of identical units, Lilian finds herself in need of the red and gold guidance markers for the first time in months. The day gone, Lilian was not free to attend Tabitha’s bond proof and had no chance to seek out Seigneur Trevelyan’s newest associate the prior day. Now she eagerly turns into the corridor where Tabitha is located to be greeted by a sight that rocks her back on her heels.
The mongoose! Maman.
Lilian has difficulty believing her eyes, Tabitha’s appearance is so changed. Gone are the tight suit, overly high heels, elaborate hair, and excessive makeup of Sebastian Mehta’s abused apprentice. Instead, Seigneur Trevelyan’s new associate is attired in a quietly tailored gray suit and black ankle boots with a modest lift, her light brown hair in a loose chignon. There is unmistakable grace and energy in the young woman’s form, while lightly applied cosmetics highlight the vivid intelligence of her features.
There is no question that Tabitha is the mongoose from Maman’s vision panel. Since the seer’s murals predicted Rebecca’s elevation to a Raven, Lilian has been paying careful attention to the paintings she originally dismissed as another sign of her mother’s derangement. For sevendays, Helena has been insisting that the mongoose is essential to Lilian’s success. That it has proven to be Tabitha sets Lilian’s spine tingling.
Seeing the Raven coming toward her, Tabitha abandons her newly assigned worksite. “Well met, Mistress Lilian.”
“Well met indeed, Mistress Tabitha. Your change in style suits you.” With Tabitha’s excessively high heels abandoned, Lilian tops the other woman by two inches.
Not waiting for Lilian to continue, Tabitha speaks, “Mistress Lilian, there are no words to express my gratitude. Ask aught, and I will give my all to aid you.”