Transgressions

by E G Manetti

  The transit from the Western Continent required fewer than half the bells needed for transit from the citrus plantation. Trevelyan had arrived at the Cartel as the medics were finishing their treatment of Lilian. Trevelyan is as certain as Lucius that Lilian is innocent of transgression. This is yet another Grey Spear intrigue designed to undermine Blooded Dagger supremacy.

  “Discover how Lilian’s nape ties were placed with the suicide,” Lucius orders. “With that, we can forward a charge of conspiracy and finally rid my Cartel of Sebastian.”

  If Lucius can prove that Grey Spear planted false evidence, he will be able to indict Sebastian for violation of the Cartel Agreement. Not even the governors own the license to corrupt the Cartel’s Governing Protocol and Discipline, but without evidence of conspiracy, Lilian’s vindication will cost Grey Spear naught but the blood price for inadvertent property damage.

  »◊«

  … Milord is standing behind the couch, face shadowed and hands gripping the couch back. There is tension in every line of milord’s body.

  It is not tension, it is rage. That hungry rage looking to destroy. Forcing back fear, Lilian awaits milord’s will. Milord turns toward her, and the tsunami of rage reaches for her, hungering to swallow her.

  Instinctively, Lilian takes a step back to be halted by the whiplash of milord’s voice…

  “Lilian.”

  Lilian attempts to open her eyes. She dare not disobey milord. Her eyes refuse her will.

  Milord commands, “Lilian, rouse.”

  “First she would not slumber, now she will not rouse,” an unfamiliar voice remarks from somewhere near Lilian’s feet. Her feet?

  “Lilian, you must wake,” milord demands.

  Lilian does not wish to wake. She is safer in the dark.

  “Lilian, open your eyes.” Milord’s tone is urgent, insistent. A familiar hand is gently stroking her temple. Milord’s hand. Milord?

  Milord is not angered?

  “Lilian, rouse,” milord insists.

  First stricture. Lilian must obey. She is sworn to it.

  “Yes. Milord.” Lilian’s voice is a croak. She can barely force her dry mouth to form the words. The heavy eyelids continue to refuse her will.

  I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian’s eyelids separate with protest. They are sticky and crusted, her vision blurred.

  Blinking clears away some of the crust and allows Lilian’s eyes to focus. They find naught but the bleached cotton of dispensary bedding. Turning her eyes, Lilian discovers milord’s familiar forearm and, beyond, milord’s belt and platinum signet.

  She is lying on her stomach. Milord is standing next to her and stroking her temple.

  Dispensary. Scourge. Grey Spear. Nape ties.

  Confusion dissolves as memory fires. Ignoring the pain that lances across her back, Lilian attempts to turn, to rise, to address milord. “Milord, it is not true. I have not—”

  “Cease, Lilian, cease,” milord barks. His hand drops from her temple to her arm, restraining her from further movement.

  Milord’s command and grasp halt Lilian mid-motion.

  “Milord?” Lilian croaks her confusion.

  “Lie down. Do not attempt to move without a medic’s aid,” milord admonishes as he settles Lilian onto the cot.

  “Lilian, are you able, drink this.” Master Chin’s voice is accompanied by a juice pouch.

  Ignoring the proffered liquid, Lilian says, “Milord, I did not—”

  “Peace,” Lucius interrupts. “I know the indictment is false. Drink Master Chin’s potion.”

  Chin was at his wit’s end. It is well after midday, and Lilian would not rouse from her slumber. She must be awake and responsive for this examination. Reluctant to administer the stimulants Chin knows can have an adverse effect on Lilian, he called Lucius.

  Lucius waits quietly while Lilian obediently consumes Chin’s potion. He did not require Marieth’s confirmation of Lilian’s tale to know Lilian guiltless. He has no difficulty in recalling the midday when he pulled Lilian’s hair free. Every second of that momentous day is emblazoned in his memory. Mercium proved that morning. The Bright Star adventure was announced immediately after midday. In between those events, Lucius celebrated his achievements with the extended enjoyment of his apprentice. He even recalls his amusement at Lilian’s discomfort when she was compelled to appear with loosened hair before the Bright Star team.

  This day he regrets his amusement. The elegant hair bindings would have been one of the few items of value Lilian retained after the ruin. Other than her thorn and his gifts, Lucius knows she owns naught else of value but those decorous little gold ear posts. Lucius’ daughter Elysia owns a similar pair. They are the standard for warrior females between their thirteenth and sixteenth years. Lilian’s were likely a keepsake before she lost all.

  The posts are missing. Except when she is in her cycles and displaying his ruby studs, Lucius cannot recall ever viewing his apprentice without the gold posts.

  Stroking the nearest naked lobe with one finger, Lucius sends a questioning glance at Chin.

  Chin is briefly bewildered, then exasperated. With a motion, Chin dismisses his assistant. Interactions between Lucius and his apprentice are unusual. They require no unnecessary witnesses.

  As the door recesses, Chin responds to Lucius, “In the safekeeper with her slate. The blade is under her pillow. She would not release it otherwise.”

  At Chin’s words, Lilian releases the juice pouch, concern in her face.

  “Peace, woman.” Lucius cannot quite contain his pleasure at his apprentice’s diligence toward stricture. “I do not believe that beneath one ear can be construed as ‘bearing arms.’ ”

  Relaxing against the pillow, Lilian attempts to order her thoughts. She recalls the pain of the scourge. She has a vague recollection of Clarice and Tabitha in the aftermath. It seems eons gone. “If milord pleases, how long—”

  “It is second bell after midday on Fifth Day,” Lucius interrupts as he settles into a chair.

  Lilian has been in gray space for a full day.

  Shifting on the cot, Lilian attempts to determine the extent of her wounds and gasps when her back protests the slight movement. It is not white fire, but it is sufficiently painful.

  “Lilian, cease twitching,” Chin instructs as he tests the sealant on her shoulders.

  “If the Master Medic pleases, is the muscle sound? The nerves?” Lilian’s voice is tight with concern that muscle or nerve damage will hamper her martial ability.

  “Your muscles are scored. They will heal. I am testing your nerves now. Finish the potion, it will ease you for examination,” Chin encourages.

  “Chin, is this necessary?” Lucius scowls as Chin’s probing elicits another gasp from Lilian.

  “Lilian is already partially numb from the sealant. Otherwise, she would be screaming.” Chin barely glances at Lucius. “Allow me to work, and I will soon be able to block the pain entirely.”

  At Chin’s words, Lucius nods. He has viewed the record of Lilian’s execution. She did not scream then, either.

  “You did not cry out.” Lucius’ observation is a question. Stoicism in response to physical torment is expected among warriors. The brutality of Damocles’ assault would have called a cry from many. Knowing Lilian’s horror of caning, Lucius feared her spirit would be more severely lacerated than her back. Her strength of will is truly astounding.

  “Maman,” Lilian murmurs dazedly in response to Lucius’ inquiry. Chin’s potion is beginning to have the desired effect.

  “The seer, Lilian?” Chin speaks in surprise. How does the deranged woman have a part in this?

  “The inscription on the podium,” Lilian explains.

  “The Warrior Litany?” Lucius interjects, as confused as the medic.

  Relieved by the knowledge that milord is not angered, Lilian is glad for milord’s presence and the safety of milord’s shadow. Milord is well come.

  “I am pleased you think so,” L
ucius voices dryly.

  “Think what, milord?” Lilian inquires.

  At Lilian’s confused blink, Lucius represses a smile. The woman does not know she voiced welcome. She is mildly inebriated by the sedative Chin mixed with the juice.

  “It is of no moment,” Lucius responds. “What of the inscription on the podium?”

  “It is inscribed in the archaic,” Lilian offers brightly.

  “I am aware of that,” Lucius nods. Whatever was in Chin’s potion has eased Lilian into a forthcoming state. That she is bright with the effects of the potion eases Lucius’ concern over the impact of her scourging.

  “There are several translations. Maman and I have always preferred the Adelaide variant.” Lilian wishes milord would pet her again.

  “The Adelaide variant?” Lucius asks reaching out to stroke Lilian’s cheek. “I am not familiar with it.”

  Turning her head to facilitate the desired caress, Lilian replies, “It is not commonly known beyond the sect scholars. I am able to recite it, does milord will.”

  “I am listening,” Lucius invites.

  Chin’s examination has moved from Lilian’s ribs to her lacerated shoulders. With a nod, Chin encourages Lucius to keep Lilian distracted. Lucius had not planned to tell Chin about Lilian witnessing Helena’s abuse at Gariten’s hands. After Damocles’ assault, Lucius had no choice. Chin is as concerned as Lucius about Lilian’s reaction to the scourging.

  “I am all that my family was,” Lilian begins. With a jerk and a gasp, she halts her recitation to complain, “Master Medic, that stings.”

  “Peace, Lilian,” Chin returns. “You are not harmed. The deadening potion was not well applied. Your nerves are sound.”

  “Lilian, continue,” Lucius calls, regaining her attention with a gentle tap to her lips.

  The touch of milord’s finger on her mouth is pleasantly distracting. Lilian cannot resist licking that long digit.

  The touch of Lilian’s tongue sends a shock of sensation to Lucius’ loins even as he pulls away. Now is not the time. Pushing a heavy lock from Lilian’s forehead, Lucius demands, “Lilian.”

  Milord has a will. What was it? Oh. Nodding, Lilian begins again, “I beg pardon, milord. I was distracted. I am the stone laid for the future. Honor is both shield and blade.”

  With a gasp, Lilian ceases her recitation. “Master Medic, that is cold.”

  “Chin?” Lucius follows.

  “It is naught. Lilian, do not twitch,” Chin demands. “I am increasing the ointment at your shoulders. It comes late, but it is worth the attempt.

  “Lucius.” With a glance Chin indicates Lilian. She is to remain distracted.

  “Lilian, you have not completed the litany.” Lucius calls Lilian’s attention.

  “Yes, milord,” Lilian acknowledges obediently. The gray eyes are wide and slightly unfocused. “Milord is very well come.”

  Lucius’ lips twitch as much from relief as amusement. “So you have stated. Continue the litany.”

  At Lilian’s confused blink, Lucius schools his expression. She must not think he is laughing at her. With a light tap to Lilian’s nose, Lucius encourages, “The last was, Honor is both shield and blade.”

  “Yes, milord.” Lilian’s eyes cross slightly as she attempts to follow milord’s finger. “The honorable do not bend to fear. The honorable do not yield. The honorable accept duty’s scourge.”

  As Lilian completes her recitation, both Lucius and Chin go still. The ancient standard of honor was significantly stricter than the modern version. That Lilian was able to adhere to that standard is a testament to her courage.

  Into the silence, Lilian remarks, “That last is rather difficult. I suspect that is why Adelaide’s version lacked popularity.”

  »◊«

  “Two full sevendays since Gil self-slaughtered, and Lilian’s nape ties are suddenly in Grey Spear possession?” Lucius snarls as he tosses his jacket across the back of the scarlet sofa. “At a time when I am absent the Cartel?”

  Pacing angrily toward the windows, Lucius loosens his tunic collar as he continues his diatribe, “And also absent are all who could speak for her?”

  “An unlikely coincidence,” Trevelyan agrees, loosening his collar. “Particularly considering the DNA results would not have taken more than a day.”

  “DNA that was not given to Chin!” Lucius snaps. “A Cartel internal investigation, and they did not use the Dispensary?”

  “It does suggest they knew the ties were Lilian’s,” Trevelyan interjects softly. “Certainly, there was no mention of the nape ties or the note in the preliminary report by Serengeti Militia.”

  “Of course they knew the ties were Lilian’s!” Lucius rounds on his spymaster. “She lost them in this chamber. What I would know is how did Grey Spear get possession, and when did Sebastian insert them into the investigation of Gil’s death?”

  Everything about this mess is a ‘wrong thing,’ as his apprentice would phrase it.

  “After the initial report on Gil’s suicide, I regret, I gave the matter no thought,” Trevelyan sighs. “Until yesterday, I did not realize that the investigation was not closed.”

  “It should have been closed.” Lucius turns on his spymaster. “There is no reason it should have taken more than a few days, even if Grey Spear had found the nape ties and note together.”

  “They already had the nape ties,” Trevelyan exclaims. “When they found the note, they held up the investigation until Monsignor was absent.”

  “Cesare’s festival has been planned for two seasons.” Lucius’ eyes narrow and a dangerous silkiness enters his cooling tones. “However Grey Spear came by those ties, Sebastian held them, awaiting an opportunity. Gil provided it.”

  “As to that, Monsignor,” Trevelyan moves toward the drinks cabinet, “since a bell after Lilian was scourged, we have had an operative among the cleaning servitors. In a few days, we will know how the nape ties were given to Grey Spear.”

  “Trevelyan?” Lucius ceases to pace.

  “Our spy is dedicated to Lilian’s well-being, comely enough to loosen tongues but not so much to be noticeable.” Trevelyan gestures at the single malt.

  Lucius nods and then adds, “Citrus vodka for me. Icy.”

  While Trevelyan tends to the drinks, Lucius wanders back to the windows. “Dedicated to Lilian’s well-being? Not too comely? You set Tabitha on this?”

  “As you voice, Monsignor,” Trevelyan crosses to Lucius with the drinks.

  “You believe Sebastian’s purpose was retaliation against Lilian for freeing Tabitha?” Lucius questions as he accepts the glass.

  “You were not present when Tabitha changed house, Monsignor,” Trevelyan replies. “His rage was extreme.”

  “He was enraged when he charged Lilian with bond interference.” Lucius nods and sips the citrus. “For his apprentice to shun him was a blow to his prestige. Sebastian is not one to forgive such an insult. I enjoy the notion that you are turning Tabitha against him.”

  “I enjoy it as well.” Trevelyan sips the single malt. “Although I chose her because she is well suited to the task.” Leaning against the sofa back, Trevelyan adds, “I wonder. Who was the true object of Gil’s passion?”

  Dropping into a comfortable chair, Lucius gestures to Trevelyan to sit. “Seigneur Nemilis should have some notion. She would have been guiding his progress and would know of his new relationships.”

  “Gil’s former seigneur? Aye, Monsignor.” Trevelyan settles into the chair opposite Lucius, nodding slowly. The former Universalist was surprised to discover that part of his duty to his apprentice includes easing her into a life of freedom after her bond proves. Not that he ever planned to cast Rebecca adrift. He cannot help observing, “Monsignor Sebastian’s treatment of Tabitha does not conform to such a pretty custom.”

  “If Sebastian were not so powerful, he would have been charged for bond interference,” Lucius scowls. “The scandal of Tabitha’s defection never reached significant note b
ecause Seigneur Aristides used the furor over Bright Star and Mercium to distract the media. A warrior of lesser rank would not have fared so well.”

  “Even Seigneur Aristides will not be able to save Monsignor Sebastian when we prove he planted evidence,” Trevelyan promises.

  “It will be useful to know the object of Gil’s passion.” Lucius frowns. “Whoever she is, she did not come forward to halt Lilian’s scourging. Find her.”

  “Monsignor, whoever she is, she may not have known,” Trevelyan suggests. “That Gil desired her does not mean she knew it.”

  “Or she may go in fear of Sebastian.” Lucius nods reluctantly. “Nonetheless, I would know. You must have an operative in the Associates’ Quarters.”

  “Rebecca resides there,” Trevelyan offers blandly. While Lucius is coming to tolerate Trevelyan’s apprentice, he continues to view her as a vulgar influence on Lilian.

  With a small grunt, Lucius concedes, “She is loyal to Lilian.”

  “Whereas Grey Spear hates Lilian.” Trevelyan’s lips tighten. “Truly, Monsignor, I had no idea that Sebastian’s animosity was so extreme.”

  “Neither did I,” Lucius admits with a swallow of vodka. “Had I realized… had I known. I should have attached Lilian to Rachelle and sent her to the Western Continent. For a large enough bribe, even our honorable Third System governor will overlook a charge of excessive consideration.”

  “Monsignor, you own no fault in this.” Trevelyan leans forward. “No one could have anticipated this. Sebastian Mehta fabricated evidence and corrupted Serengeti justice to abuse Lilian. It may also have been a last, desperate attempt to undermine your control of Serengeti.”

  “We have him.” Lucius’ face hardens with purpose. “After a decade, we finally have the shadeless scum. I will sweep him from the Cartel , and he will lose his position as Grey Spear Preeminence.”

  “For Cartouche and Cartel.” Trevelyan tips his glass and empties it halfway.

  “Cartouche and Cartel.” Lucius half empties his glass.

  “ ‘That last is rather difficult. I suspect that is why Adelaide’s version lacked popularity,’ ” Trevelyan utters softly.

  Nodding, Lucius raises his glass again. The gesture is echoed by Trevelyan.