Transgressions

by E G Manetti

  “For as long as I can remember.” Voice it all, Lilian reminds herself. “They came more frequently after I passed the age of consent.”

  Lilian is now nervously rolling the scarlet seal in her hand, forcing out more information. “Since entering the Cartel they seem somehow… stronger… more powerful.”

  “How so?” Milord’s gaze sharpens, and his fingers tighten on her shoulders.

  “I… that is…” Lilian’s fist clenches on the seal as she struggles for words. “It is difficult, milord. Until last Settlement Day, I had never spoken of this.”

  “Last Settlement Day?” Milord asks sharply. “Who else knows of this?”

  “Katleen, Chrys, and Rebecca,” Lilian replies warily.

  “Your sister, I understand,” milord frowns. “You revealed this to your friends and not your lord?”

  It is as she feared, milord is displeased. “I did not wish to, but Rebecca witnessed the hull alloy insight. She would not be put off, and Chrys and Rebecca are with me so often. I thought it safer to reveal my insights and bind them with secrecy.”

  “And you voiced naught to me.” Milord’s soft voice holds censure and a frightening hint of silk.

  “Please, milord, I wished to speak,” Lilian pleads. “I have hidden this for so long… I could not find the words.” One hand reaches for the edge of milord’s tunic. She must make milord understand. “I do not know where they come from or how. Only that I have learned to act upon them and not dismiss them as a flight of fancy or... or… derangement.”

  Lilian whispers the terrible word, praying milord will agree.

  “You are not deranged.” Milord’s voice softens, the dangerous silkiness sliding away.

  “No, milord, I do not believe so. Although, there was a time I feared it.” Lilian looks down, noting her clenched fist. The muscles protest slightly as she wills her fingers open.

  “Woman, what have you done?” Lucius grasps her hand, turning it to reveal the deep imprint of her conservator’s seal.

  “I did not notice.” Lilian’s hand twitches as the returning blood sets her palm tingling and then burning.

  With a sigh, Lucius begins to massage Lilian’s wounded palm. He had no idea this would be so difficult for her or that she harbored such fear. From her words, she has struggled to understand an extraordinary ability without aid. “This ability of yours, how did you manage to hide it from Dean Joseph and your fellows at the university for nearly a decade?”

  “Unlike the Cartel, I had a great deal of privacy, milord,” Lilian sighs softly as the unpleasant burning in her palm fades. “I was given my own suite in Dean Joseph’s home, and later, I leased my own quarters. I was often alone. Within the Cartel, it is rarely so.”

  At the thought of Dean Joseph, Lilian’s heart briefly seizes with longing for the man who fostered her. Until Lilian’s bond is complete, she may have no contact with her former mentor. Lilian must look to milord and only milord.

  Using the hand he holds captive, Lucius tugs Lilian with him as he rises and settles into the nearest armchair, Lilian in his lap. “It was wise to bind Chrys and Rebecca to secrecy. As of now, your insights are sealed under my security-privilege.”

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian melts into milord, limp with relief. “Their seigneurs? Rebecca and Chrys refused to conceal the insights if asked.”

  “I will inform Seigneurs Rachelle and Trevelyan. Speak of this to no others but Master Chin.”

  “Yes, milord.”

  “Why did you not go to Chin with this?” Lucius wonders. “He would have aided you.”

  “I could not, milord.” Lilian tilts her face to meet his eyes, her hair lightly tickling his shoulder. “It was ill enough that I revealed my insights to Chrys and Rebecca before milord. I could not bring myself to voice it again until milord knew all.”

  Even knowing it is vanity, Lucius is pleased that Lilian would not share her secret with Chin until Lucius knew of it. He also knows his apprentice has a lamentable tendency to withhold from him. “Do I know all?”

  Lilian’s gray eyes are clear and unwavering. A small furrow appears between her eyes. “As much as I am able to voice, milord. The experience is very difficult to describe.”

  “Is it unpleasant?” Lucius wonders. That would go far to explain her reticence.

  “No, milord.” Lilian shakes her head. “Occasionally the patterns are disturbing, but it is not unpleasant.”

  “Are you aware that your eyes lighten so that they are almost clear?” Lucius asks, lightly rubbing her shoulder.

  “I did not until Katleen mentioned it.” Lilian briefly considers Katleen’s notion about Adelaide but dismisses it. Milord is a modern warrior, no more prone to the superstitious belief in direct Shade intervention than Lilian. “Has milord observed it?”

  “Yes. Chin believes it is due to your pupils contracting as you concentrate,” milord offers. “You cannot tell?”

  “No, milord. During an insight, I am aware of naught but the forming pattern.” That Master Chin has an opinion is interesting. “Milord has discussed this with Master Chin?”

  “Shortly before you set the odds for Fletcher on Moon Race day.” Milord’s features soften with a hint of humor. “I rather hoped you would call on your strange concentration when faced with that challenge. I did not realize you do not control it.”

  “That was a lovely pattern.” Lilian’s face lightens with the memory. “Did Master Chin offer any other opinion?”

  “Only that unless you appeared distressed, it was best to leave you undisturbed until you were done.” Milord gives her a little squeeze.

  “Master Chin is wise,” Lilian agrees. “The few times I have been pulled from an insight before the pattern completed, it has left me with an aching head.”

  “Make certain that Chrys and Rebecca know to leave you undisturbed,” milord warns. With another squeeze, “If you find more words for these insights, I wish to know them.”

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian agrees, although she does not think it likely. She has barely managed the few she has found.

  Milord drops a quick kiss on her lips before giving her a little push. “Gather your garb and dress. We are well past the bell.”

  9. Socraide’s Festival

  A warrior of unrelenting fierceness, Socraide Omsted was renowned for his ability to discover and exploit his opponents’ weaknesses. His success was so unprecedented it was considered supernatural. Having subdued three planets in the First System, Socraide turned his eyes to Artesia, the last habitable planet in the system. Once an educational and spiritual retreat, it held the only surviving archives of the advanced society of the Ancients. To the violent marauders of the Anarchy, the archives were worthless. The remote world was strategically unimportant until two and a half centuries of war resulted in a scarcity of supplies and of the raw materials for weapons.

  As marauders began to circle, the Principal Archivist, Mulan Tsao, feared that the last vestiges of a great and enlightened society were about to be obliterated. To avert destruction, Mulan, later known as the Third Warrior, took to arms. Convincing the populace that the loss of the archives would be a greater danger to Universal Balance than the violence necessary to preserve them, the Third Warrior converted a half-billion pacifist scholars and farmers into citizen-warriors who would die before yielding the planet and its precious archives. Only a handful remain committed to the pacifism of the vanishing enlightenment. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 55, Day 2

  The chill within Socraide’s Shrine is a jarring contrast to the warmth of the rising sun. Sliding invisibly around the perimeter, Trevelyan knows that a few bells hence, the chill will turn to blessed cool as the dry-season heat bakes the city. Socraide’s Shrine is not the largest in the Garden Center Shrine Ring, but due to Lucius Mercio’s patronage, it is the most opulent. Opulence that Trevelyan finds alien compared to the simplicity of Universalist contemplation pavilions and gardens.


  At the moment, Trevelyan is far more concerned with how that opulence might shield an assassin. The high windows in the raised gallery are filled with colored-glass renditions of the First Warrior’s history. Beautiful, but they diffuse the light and increase the shadows.

  Standing before the sacred pool at the center of the shrine, Socraide’s Keeper Virgil offers a stately benediction to a small group of shrine attendants and devoted who greeted the Shade of the First Warrior with the rising sun. In the center of the pool, water layers off a spherical, Vistrite-inlaid fountain depicting Socraide Prime in the First System.

  A quick assessment assures Trevelyan that none in that small group is a threat. Moving on, Trevelyan checks the position and status of his well-armed operatives. The entire Third System, and any who care within all the Twelve Systems, knows that Lucius Mercio and his family will enter the shrine for the First Warrior’s Festival. Never lax in his public displays, Lucius’ reverence of the Five Warriors must be unimpeachable, with all the Twelve Systems watching Bright Star.

  A slender shadow solidifies into a man of average height, medium complexion, medium build, and medium brown hair. As unremarkable as he is deadly, Master Malcon gives his report in quiet tones that are less noticeable than a whisper and no more easily overheard. “Not even a questionable shrine beggar.”

  “Commandant Shelia?” Trevelyan asks just as softly.

  “Her operatives will enter and mingle among the devoted,” Malcon confirms.

  Lucius Mercio’s personal guards are ever present and expected. Among the throng that will soon fill the sacred space will be a score of Trevelyan’s operatives paired with a score of Blooded Dagger’s elite guard. They will be supplemented by two score shrine guardians and an equal number of Third System militia. It is not all for Lucius’ protection.

  Except apprentices and other members of the lowest orders, all citizens of the Twelve Systems receive a day of liberty to celebrate the festival of their chosen Warrior. The crowds are extensive, and so is the potential for civil disorder. Every Shrine Ring in the Twelve Systems will have extra guardians this day to honor the First Warrior and protect the sacredness of Socraide’s rituals.

  Nodding his approval to Malcon, Trevelyan once more glides across the floor, the midnight blue and purple tiles glinting with gold and silver highlights in the subdued light.

  At the north end of the shrine, Trevelyan pauses briefly before the effigy of Socraide Omsted. We began as cosmic dust.

  Trevelyan smiles inwardly at the thought of Virgil’s reaction if the conservative shrine keeper knew that Lucius Mercio’s newest seigneur was offering the Universalist Meditation as part of his devotion to Socraide Omsted.

  We are formed from stellar glitter. Nine feet in height, depicted in black marble, Socraide stands with dual swords across his back, arms crossed to reach the dual fire-pistols holstered at his hips, and a dagger sheathed in one boot. The gold leaf layering the hilts of the blades and pistols gleams softly as Trevelyan places his shrine coins before the statue.

  The stellar is within and without. Pulling the shrine blade from Socraide’s boot, Trevelyan stabs his smallest finger and anoints the coins with his blood.

  We are one. A small square of cotton cleans the blade and then blots Trevelyan’s finger. Once, Trevelyan’s respect for the Order of the Five Warriors was coupled with the Universalist’s contempt for the barbarism of warrior society.

  We are ephemeral and eternal. Ten years’ service with Lucius Mercio has convinced Trevelyan that the forces of Universal Balance are a crucible tempering Universalist and Warrior alike in the eternal pursuit of equilibrium.

  We end as we began and begin again. Trevelyan accepted his duty to serve Lucius Mercio’s deity when he accepted the seigneur’s signet two months gone. He has never sought power or extreme wealth. He maintains a Universalist’s belief in the connectedness of all creation and a duty to preserve and promote balance in the face of chaos. Lucius’ ambitious plans for Mercium and Bright Star may be rooted in personal gain, but Trevelyan is convinced that those ventures offer an unparalleled opportunity for the advancement of the Twelve Systems’ poorest inhabitants.

  Cosmic dust. Trevelyan bows briefly to the statue. A decade gone, he was cast out from the Universalists when he joined Lucius in battling the pirates that were threatening the Order of the Five Warriors and decimating unarmed Universalist settlements. The Universalist Conclave mourned the tragic loss of the settlers but declared that abandoning the pacifist tenets of the Universal Way was a betrayal of their sacred trust and an unforgivable sin.

  Trevelyan never expected to survive the pirate conflicts or be forced to find a path in the strange and alien warrior society, cut off from everything and everyone he has ever known. He would make the same choice again. The small smile that accompanies his bow reflects Trevelyan’s acceptance that the Universe sometimes has an odd idea of balance.

  Observance complete, Trevelyan returns to his duty and mounts the nearest staircase to the gallery where Lucius will be seated. As Blooded Dagger’s Security-Privilege Seigneur he is not only responsible for keeping its secrets, he is also responsible for the physical security of all its assets, the most important of which is Monsignor Lucius Mercio. However, this day holds no special threats, only the common ones that any powerful and prominent warrior attracts.

  »◊«

  “Katleen, be still,” Lilian snaps as she grapples the red-gold curls into a semblance of a warrior’s queue.

  “I am sorry, Lilian.” Katleen plants her feet and clasps her hands tightly. “It is only that I am excited.”

  “As one of Sinead’s acolytes, you must display proper decorum,” Lilian warns softly. “It is an honor to be included among Sinead’s contingent for Socraide’s Festival.”

  “I know.” Katleen halts her nod of agreement to keep her head steady. “It is too bad you do not have liberty from the Cartel and cannot join us.”

  Not that it would matter, Lilian thinks scathingly. Keeper Virgil would likely have her evicted on sight. Gone are the days when her attendance was sought after at the Warrior Festivals. Not that she will dampen Katleen’s enthusiasm with such observations. “I am sure you will find it enlightening. The First Warrior’s Canon has a different slant on both the Founding of Order and Adelaide Warleader.”

  “Of course, Lilian,” Katleen agrees dutifully as Lilian finishes tying the queue. Free to move, Katleen dances to her mirror and pirouettes in the peridot-green tunic and trousers of Sinead’s acolytes. “Even better, now that I am one of Sinead’s acolytes, I will be allowed to view the trials. It will be the first time I have witnessed Socraide’s Discipline outside of Warrior Festival performances.”

  Any inhabitant of the Twelve Systems is entitled to carry a blade of no more than six inches. Only the warrior elite may publicly carry a dagger, and only a warrior or prelate can carry the larger blades of their discipline at festivals. Even warriors must earn the privilege through a competency trial. As with shrine rituals, competency trials are open to the public and can occur on any day and any bell that is acceptable to the discipline master and the candidate. Trials on festival days are highly prestigious.

  “That Monsignor’s son is to undergo his competency trial has no influence on your interest?” Lilian challenges softly, securing the ties. She is well aware that Katleen is as fascinated with milord and his family as most within the Twelve Systems. That milord is Lilian’s bondholder only heightens Katleen’s interest.

  “All the festival trials are reserved for the most highly placed warriors,” Katleen huffs, attempting to hide her fascination with Monsignor Lucius and his family. “All six candidates will have had the best of Socraide’s training, not just Master Raphael.”

  “And you will remain out of sight among the junior acolytes,” Lilian responds, not at all deceived by Katleen’s response and far more concerned that Gariten’s offspring may attract unpleasant attention. “It would be a shame if the trials were disru
pted because someone noted you and took exception.”

  “Seigneur Trevelyan has charge of security.” Katleen dances away. “I doubt any would dare a disruption.”

  “Katleen,” Lilian warns.

  “Peace,” Katleen laughs. “I will be good, and you must hasten. It will not serve—”

  “—to be late to the Cartel.” Lilian shrugs and turns away. Katleen reveres the Five Warriors, she will be mindful.

  »◊«

  “Have you a notion when Raphael found his bed?” Lucius murmurs to Estella as he takes her arm and escorts her from their chambers. Within the bell, they are due at the shrine for Socraide’s Festival. The remnants of their breakfast are abandoned on the small table by the windowed doors that open on the balcony and gardens beyond, which are bright with the newly risen sun.

  “Not until after dark of night, according to Marigold,” Estella replies. Marigold, Estella’s personal servitor, is both loyal and truthful.

  Lucius’ lips thin with his displeasure. A hangover will not aid Raphael in the trial by combat that follows the morning’s canon recitation.

  Lucius shifts his arm to Estella’s waist, offering support as much as courtesy, to descend the central staircase.

  Located at the north end of the Garden Center District, the graceful mansion is set in elegantly landscaped grounds surrounded by stone walls and reinforced gates. Following traditional warrior design, the main level is given over to opulent reception chambers, with the family’s quarters and guest accommodations occupying the second and third levels. The fourth and fifth levels are for the servants, storage, and utilities.

  “Elysia is not in Rimon’s colors?” Lucius questions as they reach his daughter, who is lovely in a flowing rose silk dress.

  Like her mother, Elysia is dedicated to the Second Warrior. Not yet at the age of consent and unproven in the martial aspects of Rimon’s discipline, it is not required by canon that Elysia be in the Second Warrior’s colors of royal blue and silver. However, Lucius is the Lord Patron of Socraide’s Sect in the Third System. Custom decrees all his family, regardless of youth, wear their warrior’s colors for a festival. The eyes of the Shrines and the media will be on all of them this day.