Transgressions

by E G Manetti

  “If it will please you, Mistress Lilian.” Gil smiles carefully. “Douglas and I will meet you in the Archives.”

  Gil is wise to accommodate Master Simon, Lilian thinks, adjusting her schedule for Simon. As the Mercium Senior Associate, Simon is favored to advance to master associate within a few seasons. After the seigneurs, the master associates are the most highly ranked within the cartel.

  “Fourth bell through seventh,” Simon taps his slate. “It will serve. Schedule naught for later, we may run over.”

  Adelaide’s Thorn! Lilian’s period of liberty from milord at midday is almost certain to be followed by a requirement to attend milord at his penthouse. Knowing that she has no cause for embarrassment does not lessen it. Deeply reticent, Lilian dislikes any reference to her intimate relationship with milord. I am the sum of my ancestors. Slipping on stoicism like her training mask, Lilian warns, “It will be as the monsignor wills.”

  “What say you?” Simon glances up from his slate in confusion. Lilian’s shuttered expression is all the response he requires. Demon shit. He has embarrassed her. “Of course. Monsignor’s will.”

  At a sudden rustle of activity, Lilian looks around to find Master Straus mounting the podium. Without another word, Lilian and Chrys scramble up the stairs to find their places.

  »◊«

  “Another twenty from Fletcher?” Lucius smiles at his protégé.

  “He could not refuse without shaming Iron Hammer.” Nickolas grins in answer. “Of course, I may well lose a hundred in the final scoring. After this day’s results, it is far from certain that Blooded Dagger will dominate the scoring with half the lead of last year.”

  “An aggressive wager,” Lucius remarks, pleased. It is unlike his conservative protégé to take such risks.

  “It was a matter of Blooded Dagger honor,” Nickolas shrugs. The amount is relatively minor. It will cause no hardship.

  “Is Blooded Dagger honor so cheap these days?” Lucius challenges softly.

  “It is more that Fletcher is a friend to me as Iron Hammer is to Blooded Dagger,” Nickolas replies without worry. Monsignor’s tones hold naught of the silk that indicates danger. Resisting the urge to preen, Nickolas adds, “With the five hundred I will have from Martin when Blooded Dagger leads the final scoring, my accounts and Blooded Dagger honor will be well rewarded.”

  “Not a thousand?” Lucius lightly baits. The last time Sebastian’s nasty protégé wagered against Nickolas, it was for the larger amount.

  “Apparently, even Martin’s arrogance has some limits,” Nickolas admits. “I did try. He would not bite.”

  “Well enough,” Lucius acknowledges. His wagers with Sebastian are significantly larger and will give Lucius more than sufficient gratification. “Is there aught else?”

  Rising with his mentor from the conference table, Nickolas hesitates. He missed naught of the ninth-bell interchange between Lilian and Simon. It is not the first occasion she has been hard-pressed to juggle her duties. It has been almost a year since Lilian collapsed from overwork brought on by circumstances and Nickolas’ neglect. Monsignor’s ire was unpleasant and prolonged. It is not an experience Nickolas cares to repeat.

  “There is one other matter, Monsignor. It relates to Mistress Lilian.”

  At Lucius’ sharp glance, Nickolas takes a deep breath. Nickolas treads the edge of the Crevasse. Lilian is no longer under Nickolas’ supervision. His interference could be considered a challenge to Lucius’ preeminence. Nickolas will not fail his honor again. “It is becoming difficult to manage the conflicts between Mercium and Bright Star.”

  “Have Marco speak to Rachelle and work it out,” Lucius instructs. “You have my authority.”

  “Yes, Monsignor.” Nickolas has voiced what he may. If the monsignor is unconcerned, there is naught more for Nickolas to do. Honor acts as duty commands. The monsignor missed the signs once before. Nickolas is his protégé, the monsignor’s Shieldbearer by ancient tradition and bound to protect Lucius’ honor before his own. Turning at the scarlet door, Nickolas dares, “Mistress Lilian appears fatigued. As fatigued as I have ever seen her.”

  Taking Lucius’ stunned expression for dismissal, Nickolas hastily retreats across the threshold.

  »◊«

  The scarlet sofa? Lilian ponders milord’s potential will from her position on the padded bench outside the scarlet door. Milord will be pleased by the scoring. Although the Blooded Dagger lead is nowhere near last year’s record, there is little doubt that Blooded Dagger will be first. The heavy wagering is on whether Iron Hammer or Grey Spear will be second. The Cartel associates are close behind but trailing. It is usually so.

  At the sound of the chimes, Lilian bounces from the bench.

  Perhaps one of the oversized armchairs?

  Dropping her jacket and slate satchel on the small table by the door, Lilian is surprised to find milord at his desk, his attention focused on his techno array. The tight line of milord’s mouth and stiff set of his shoulders warn that milord is not pleased by the contents of his reviewer.

  “Lilian, come here.” Milord spins his chair away from the techno array as he spreads his legs.

  Milord’s desk? It would not be the first time.

  Lilian’s knees bump the edge of the scarlet leather chair. Below her short skirt, the outsides of her thighs are lightly scraped by the crisp fabric of milord’s trousers. Milord’s dark eyes are hooded, his expression is stern.

  Is it a game? There is no spark of mischief in milord’s glance.

  Wordlessly, milord sets his hands on her hips, sliding back to cup and squeeze the mounds of her ass. Everything south of Lilian’s navel clenches in delight, her hips pressing forward.

  Milord’s hands slide up to her waist and under her waistband to tug her blouse free.

  “This skirt does not please me,” milord notes.

  Game time.

  “I beg milord’s pardon.” Lilian reaches for the fasteners. “I will remove the offense.”

  Milord grasps her hand, halting the motion as he sends two fingers into the band, holding it from her waist. “You misunderstand me.”

  “Milord?” The lack of passion in milord’s voice douses Lilian’s desire.

  “This is the one you purchased in the new year,” milord mulls as he lowers his face, watching his fingers move freely between the waistband and her waist.

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian agrees, surprised milord noticed. Purchased from the cheapest merchants, Lilian’s suits barely meet Cartel requirements. The lightweight linen demanded by the dry-season heat did not survive a year and needed to be replaced.

  “It fit well enough then,” milord continues, his fingers moving to release her blouse fasteners and push back the low-grade black silk.

  The bronze silk and lace bra contains but does not hide Lilian’s peaked breasts. Milord ignores his customary target to trail fingertips along her ribs. “You have dropped weight since the new year.”

  “A pound or two,” Lilian admits. What does he?

  “A half stone,” milord corrects sternly. “When did you last have a meal at midday?”

  Crevasse swallow it! Lilian is caught and she knows it. After her collapse a year ago, milord sacrificed his midday pleasure twice a sevenday to give Lilian respite for the regular meals needed to retain good health. Over the past three months, as the demands of both Mercium and Bright Star have expanded, Lilian has routinely sacrificed those bells to commerce. It was ill done. She knows it was ill done.

  “The First Warrior’s Festival,” Lilian replies uneasily.

  “A sevenday?” Milord’s eyes narrow. “Before that?”

  “I… I am not certain, milord,” Lilian confesses, knowing milord will not be pleased.

  “You are not certain!” Lucius exclaims, rising. His hands move from Lilian’s ribs to her shoulders and grip tightly. “Woman, what do you? Why did you not speak?”

  “Thirteenth and twenty-fourth strictures, milord,” Lilian whispers, d
ropping her eyes, unable to face milord’s censure.

  No complaining, and complete the assigned duties without question. The apprentice strictures are harsh and unequivocal. Lucius can be equally harsh and unequivocal. He cannot ignore yet another transgression. “The first stricture? Did you not promise to honor my will after Mistress Clarice went to Seigneur Herman as apprentice?”

  Adelaide aid me. I have erred. Dropping her head in shame and contrition, Lilian explains, “I beg milord’s pardon. I did not intend to defy milord’s will. It was but a day here, a bell there. I did not realize until this day… a-and Master Chin cannot see me until Fifth Day.”

  Demon shit. He has known for some time she was overburdened. It was convenient to ignore it. Lilian has erred, but so has Lucius.

  “I did not mean… I… I should have done better,” Lilian finishes miserably.

  Milord cups Lilian’s head and tilts it upward to meet his gaze. “Chin should have seen you immediately. He knows my will in this.”

  “I did not convey urgency.” Lilian defends the Master Medic. It is exceptional grace that milord allows Lilian to counsel with the Master Medic. It is not a privilege she will abuse.

  Milord’s lips tighten. “It is not for you to determine, and Chin knows that as well.”

  “Yes, milord. I beg pardon, milord,” Lilian trembles, her gray eyes dark with distress.

  Five Warriors take it. Lilian has no cause to beg pardon for Chin’s fault. Or Lucius’ fault, for that matter. Releasing his tight grip on her shoulders, Lucius slides his hand behind her back. “Peace, woman. Chin could have done little if you did consult him.”

  “Milord?”

  “Mercium has moved more quickly and been more successful than we anticipated,” Lucius reminds Lilian, reaching for her skirt fasteners. “It needs a full operations team. After the next review, one will be assigned. Can you manage for two more sevendays?”

  “I am to leave Mercium?” Lilian gasps in shock.

  “Of course not.” Lucius drops the skirt to catch Lilian by the shoulders. “You will continue to support the financials and analytics. Others will deal with production forecasts, media management, and all the other aspects of daily operations. Surely you did not think you could continue as if it were a research and development effort?”

  “No, milord. Of course not, milord,” Lilian hastens, relieved she is not to be dropped from the venture. “As milord wills.”

  “Bend over the sofa arm.” Milord smiles, a spark of mischief in his eyes.

  11. Andreas Chiang

  Three months after the Code of Engagement was ratified on Sinead’s World, Rimon Ben Claude was convinced to join the agreement. He did not yield easily. Confronted with the combined commitment of his rivals, the Second Warrior ringed his system with battle transports and threatened isolation. Knowing that a well-armed and unallied Second System could shatter their fragile agreement, the other four warriors entered into a treaty with Rimon. They also matched his battle transports two for one. Rimon did not yield without concessions.

  At the Second Warrior’s insistence, the Code of Engagement was amended to contain protocols for the resolution of disputes and the legitimate pursuit of territorial ambition beyond the Three Systems. The Code of Engagement and the Second Warrior’s Governing Protocols are the foundation of all stricture in the current era. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.

  Seven Day 58, Day 4

  “The governing monsignors will be very pleased.” Lilian’s glow of achievement is mirrored by Chrys and Douglas.

  Mercium’s initial trial has exceeded expectations. To be part of such a radical shift in commerce is the ambition of a lifetime. The intent trio of apprentices has achieved it before passing their thirtieth years.

  For Lilian, it is more. With Mercium, she has already returned to Blooded Dagger and Serengeti financial benefit well beyond the total of the stipend she receives from her indenture contract. It is also the least of her obstacles. Lilian must still provide the honor proof as measured by discipline, obedience, self-denial, and loyalty. It is the three-year honor proof that demonstrates an apprentice has the character to become a loyal Serengeti associate. For Lilian, it is also the proof that will resolve her Trial by Ordeal and free her from the conviction of Guilt by Blood and the threat of the Final Draught.

  Feeling a bit smug, Douglas comments, “Through Mercium and Bright Star, Seigneur Aristides has more direct impact on the success of Serengeti than any Media Management Seigneur before him.”

  “And his apprentice has an exceptional opportunity for career advancement.” Chrys grins at the other man.

  “It is a heavy burden, but one I bear gladly.” Douglas grins back.

  “Well, I for one am glad I only have Mercium to concern me,” Chrys returns. “Lilian, I do not know how you manage operational roles in both Mercium and Bright Star.”

  “I have enjoyed having the operational oversight of the early stage of Mercium.” Lilian pushes back from the console. “After this day’s review, Monsignor intends to transfer all but my financial functions to other members of the endeavor.” Rising and stretching, she concludes, “Although it is necessary, I regret it.”

  Laughing, Chrys responds, “Only you would regret having your workload lightened.”

  “Is there aught else we need do for the Mercium review?” questions Douglas. At Lilian’s headshake of denial, Douglas continues, “Then I am for a meal. Do you join me?”

  Expecting a “yes” from Chrys and a “not today” from Lilian, the young man is surprised by Lilian’s acceptance of the invitation. A quick glance confirms what he failed to note earlier: ruby studs twinkling in Lilian’s ears. They are a signal to milord that nature has temporarily rendered Lilian unavailable for carnal services. To Lilian’s embarrassment, it is a signal recognized throughout the Cartel. Nothing that occurs in Monsignor Lucius’ orbit is too minor to be overlooked.

  »◊«

  Popular with the junior associates for its speedy service and modest prices, the Fountain Café in the Serengeti lobby is packed with associates who have no interest in venturing out into the oppressive dry-season heat. Douglas is scanning the crowd for someone he might ask to make space when Chrys shakes his head. “Wait.”

  Lilian moves unhesitatingly to a single open fountain-side chair. As soon as she seats herself, the three at the table abandon it as do the two at the next table over. With an inclination of her head, Lilian motions to the men to join her at the prized location.

  Shaking his head in bemusement, Douglas remarks, “That was both disturbing and amusing.”

  Her countenance lightening, Lilian responds, “I choose amusement. It is a petty retribution for that sticky pink goop on Moon Race day, but I do enjoy driving off Mistress Shoshanna in the middle of her meal.”

  Surprised, Chrys demands, “Is that all the retribution you are going to extract for race day? It was not an accident. We all saw her throw that beverage.”

  “Truly, Lilian, she does deserve more retribution than a meal-time inconvenience for that act,” Douglas agrees. Then he adds, “And for a number of others as well. She played that elevator trick of Master Martin’s several times. She caught Seigneur Tristan’s apprentice Verity. Verity would not say, but it is likely that she felt Seigneur Tristan’s belt. Surely a combatant who felled three foes at the festival brawl can do more with one malicious associate.”

  “Much as I regret it, I dare not.” Lilian shakes her head, carefully choosing her words. Neither Chrys nor Douglas is aware of the level of antipathy Sebastian Mehta holds for Lilian. She will not enlighten them. “I know not why Monsignor Sebastian finds me so annoying, but the monsignor does. I will not intrigue against Grey Spear associates and risk making matters worse.”

  With a shrug, Lilian meets Douglas’ eyes. “Truly, I believe your house would be better for the lack of Mistress Shoshanna.”

  “Well enough spoken,” Douglas nods. “Were you able to ac
t, how might you proceed?”

  After brief consideration, Lilian answers, “It would not be simple. With the lazy or incompetent, it is enough to make certain that their lacks are seen by someone with authority and interest. The problem becomes a self-opening box.”

  “A problem that solves itself, given time,” Chrys explains to the bewildered Media Management apprentice.

  Ignoring Chrys, Lilian continues, “Mistress Shoshanna is neither incompetent nor lazy, and she is quite devious. If it were not for her malicious enjoyment of tormenting the vulnerable, she would be an asset to the Cartel. There is vanity in that, which might be used. Ultimately, it would be a matter of convincing those with interest and authority that Mistress Shoshanna serves her ambition to the detriment of Cartouche or Cartel.”

  Once again meeting Douglas’ eyes, Lilian concludes, “Even were I free to do so, such an intrigue would require some time to play out.”

  Tiring of the discussion, Chrys moves on to one of more interest. “Have either of you knowledge of the new Rimon’s Discipline master? I thought I might try for a match.”

  With that, the conversation turns to the ever-fascinating topic of martial arts training.

  Seven Day 58, Day 7

  “Katleen are you ready? The acolytes have departed with Maman,” Lilian impatiently calls up the stairs. Her sleeveless tunic and loose shorts are dark with sweat from her Garden Center race. “We should make haste before the sun is any higher.”

  At the early bell, the sky over the interior stone courtyard is bright blue. By midday, it will pale from the intense dry season. With the onerous heat, the Seventh Day schedule has changed so that Katleen’s race training can use the cool of the early morning. Visiting the market can wait for midday, when the heat keeps their hostile neighbors indoors.

  “Katleen!” Lilian is about to mount the stairs in search of her errant sister when the entry door chimes. Maman must have forgotten something and sent an acolyte.

  With an exasperated sigh, Lilian turns to the door. Exasperation yields to shock. “Andreas.”