by E G Manetti
Lucius clenches his back teeth in frustration as Trevelyan accepts the packet.
“Does this prove, it is the end of this matter,” Trevelyan says. He does not need to consult with Lucius. There is no question that in return for the evidence of Nemilis’ transgression, Lucius will drop the entire matter. The alternative is to give rise to a cartouche-rocking scandal that will compromise Lucius’ position within the Cartel and Bright Star.
Rising, Lucius effectively dismisses the gathering. Without a word, he departs, leaving the Grey Spear warriors to find their own way out of the conference chamber. Smiling, Sebastian and Damocles exit Lucius’ commerce suite, followed by Trevelyan, who remains with them while they call the risers. No one speaks. Trevelyan has naught to say, and for all their barely contained gloating, Damocles and Sebastian hold their tongues.
For the moment, Grey Spear triumphs. Lucius’ apprentice has been publicly abused by Grey Spear, and Blooded Dagger has been shamed. There is naught Trevelyan or Lucius can do.
24. Discovery
With each decade of Anarchy, raids against the Vistrite Crevasse increased, destroying laborers and equipment. By the time Jonathan Metricelli claimed the Great Crevasse and Southern Crevasse, Vistrite production was so perilously low that even minor thefts were mutilation or annihilation crimes. On the Third System’s second planet, all three Crevasses were in danger of collapse.
Sinead’s offer of an alliance and the gift of her battle captain, Adelaide Thornbearer, could not have been more fortuitous. Adelaide proved a fierce warrior and able battle leader. Within five years, she became Jonathan Metricelli’s battle general. Under the leadership of Adelaide Warleader, Jonathan’s forces completely subdued the Vistrite worlds and reclaimed all the lands once yielded to marauders. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.
Sevenday 76, Day 3
… The dense foliage rips at Lilian’s hands and arms as she forces her way deeper into the gardens, drawn by the nightingale’s distressed cries. Her limbs are unnaturally heavy. The air is thick, slowing her. Lilian tries to cry out. No sound comes.
A huge tree is before her. The nightingale is on a distant branch. A massive serpent is poised for attack.
No! Lilian screams soundlessly. The serpent’s jaws open. Venom drips. Weeping, Lilian struggles for her thorn. It turns to a raven in her hands. Lilian flings it toward the snake’s jaws.
Lilian flies forward, her voice the angry call of a raven.
The snake’s jaws unhinge and widen into a bottomless canyon.
Adelaide! Screaming defiance, the Lilian-raven falls…
Adelaide! With the sensation of hitting her bed hard, Lilian wakes. Her wide eyes search the darkness. Where? What? Bedchamber.
Shivering from the sweat cooling on her skin, Lilian swings her legs over the side of the bed. A tap to her slate shows it lacks a bell to dawn. It matters naught. Lilian will not slumber again this night. Pulling her thorn from beneath her pillow, Lilian fastens it to her warbelt.
Glad of the warmth from the heated tiles against her chilled feet, Lilian carefully stretches, testing her legs and arms before trying her torso and wounded back. It has been five days since she worked her discipline, limited by her wounds and Master Medic Chin’s restrictions. The lack of serious exercise is beginning to fray her nerves. That is why the evil dreams will not abate.
The contemplative forms of Adelaide’s Discipline are not rigorous and will not compromise the Master Medic’s treatment. It will take more than a bell to work up a sufficient sweat to ease Lilian’s spirit.
I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian flows into the first form, mindful of the slightest pull from her back.
»◊«
“Mistress Heather, may I inquire, is it well with you?” Douglas offers deferentially to the associate.
Releasing her regard of the archives reviewer, Heather responds, “I am well. Thank you for your concern. What is its source?”
“I beg pardon do I overstep,” Douglas ducks his head. “I heard Seigneur Trevelyan called you into the Associate Master. The seigneur can be… intimidating.”
“Oh, that,” Heather responds with an unconcerned shrug. “Seigneur Trevelyan does not intimidate me. I have Seigneur Damocles’ shadow in this.”
“Truly?” Douglas marvels. “That is well then. Are you able to reveal aught?”
“It was a minor service,” Heather offers modestly.
“Mistress, you torment me,” Douglas laments.
“Your loyalty is divided in this,” Heather responds with sweet confusion.
At Douglas’ bewildered gaze, she adds, “I viewed the visuals of the festival brawl. The scourged Raven is a friend to you.”
“But am I her friend?” Douglas offers archly, attempting to draw out the woman.
Eyes narrowing at Douglas’ words, Heather smiles without sweetness, “It was naught but justice delayed. She should have been whipped at her protocol review.”
Swallowing his repulsion, Douglas does his best to school his face into relaxed agreement. There is naught to be gained by allowing his contempt for her callousness to show. Scourging, followed by Trial by Ordeal, was Lilian’s initial sentence. There is a lackluster associate within the Blooded Dagger interests on Socraide Prime that owes his place to his mother’s vote against scourging. Eager for the spectacle, the media vilified the decision. Heather has a great deal more in common with Martin than Douglas ever suspected. She was not coerced by Damocles, she acted willingly and to gain the favor of the powerful. He feels a fool for having once protected her.
»◊«
“Blooded Dagger privilege,” Tabitha voices, as she slides into the small booth at the back corner of the art museum drinks lounge. The sodden weather has closed the open-air cafés, and the popular tourist stop is within the means of the three Ravens gathered at Tabitha’s invitation. They dare not convene within Serengeti since the Cartel records have Tabitha on the Southern Continent.
“Well,” Rebecca encourages Tabitha before taking a healthy swallow of wine.
“Do you recall the Blooded Dagger associate dismissed for aiding Martin in beating Lilian?” Tabitha asks the table after an equally healthy swallow.
Chrys and Lilian exchange a bemused glance. It is the first time Rebecca and Tabitha have been at liberty since Lilian was scourged. Judging from their rapid wine consumption, neither of the two junior spies has been enjoying her duty.
“I recall he was dismissed,” Chrys responds to Tabitha before sipping his cider.
“Not before he did Lilian another ill turn,” Tabitha scowls. “As Rimon’s Luck would have it, the man was within the monsignor’s commerce suite when Lilian’s nape ties were found.”
“Who found them?” Lilian asks. “When?”
“The servitor who swept Monsignor’s office found them adjacent to the recycler and thought them discarded,” Tabitha explains. “He pocketed them, thinking the metal silver. He planned to have them repaired as a gift for his sweetheart.”
“Reasonable enough,” Lilian admits. “For most warriors, the value of the silver would not justify the effort of repair. Replacement would be easier.”
“He must have been horrified when he found out they were lost, not discarded,” Rebecca murmurs sympathetically.
“More so when he discovered that the material was platinum and that even damaged, they were worth a month’s wages,” Tabitha embellishes.
“How did that get the ties into the hands of the dismissed associate and then Grey Spear?” Chrys demands impatiently.
“Peace, Chrys, allow me to finish the tale,” Tabitha says. At Chrys’ chagrinned nod, Tabitha continues. “The servitor took a sevenday of leave to attend his dying mother before he learned of Mistress Marieth’s search for the ties. When he returned, he was terrified he would be accused of theft. It took another several days for his sweetheart to convince the man to go to Mistress Marieth.”
As Tabitha takes another sip of w
ine, Rebecca opens her mouth in question. She quickly subsides at an admonishing headshake from Tabitha. “Mistress Marieth was not at her worksite. Seeing the servitor hanging about, that wretched associate demanded an explanation. When he heard about the ties, he offered to give them to Mistress Marieth, claiming he found them in a conference chamber.”
“The servitor leapt at the offer.” Rebecca cannot contain herself.
“Of course he did.” Tabitha nods.
“And the Blooded Dagger associate gave the ties to his dear friend Martin.” Chrys scowls.
“Who eventually turned them over to either Monsignor Sebastian or Damocles,” Tabitha concludes.
“The shadeless scum knew,” Rebecca spits angrily. “He betrayed the Blooded Dagger Cartouche.”
“Knew what?” Chrys frowns. “That the nape ties were Lilian’s?”
Shaking her head, Rebecca moderates her tone and explains, “The ties are an intimate object. The Blooded Dagger associate couldn’t pretend to have them from Lilian without losing his place. Martin could.”
Sipping sparkling water, Lilian nods. She would enjoy wine, but she dare not mix it with the Master Medic’s potions. Her dreams are sufficiently evil as it is.
“No one would believe it,” Chrys inserts. “Not after the way Martin has treated Lilian.”
“Belief is not evidence,” Rebecca snaps back. “With Monsignor Sebastian backing Martin’s claim, it might have worked.”
“Lilian, what think you…” Tabitha trails off.
Gaze set on the water swirling gently in her glass, Lilian is clearly oblivious to her friends as she murmurs, “… Martin. Nape ties…”
As Tabitha reaches out to shake Lilian, Rebecca grabs her wrist and whispers, “Do not. Do not disturb her.”
“Bright Star… Tabitha… Gil… defame…” Lilian’s eyes are fixed and water clear.
“Her eyes,” Tabitha whispers back. “What is it?”
“An insight,” Chrys replies softly. “It will be over soon.”
“…Grey Spear.” With a shifting of energy, Lilian returns. “Grey Spear. It was all about Grey Spear and Blooded Dagger. Until Tabitha changed house.”
“Lilian?” Chrys questions gently.
“Wait. Someone explain.” Tabitha holds up a hand. “What was that? Why did Lilian’s eyes go strange?”
“Rimon’s rapier!” Rebecca exclaims in horror. “No one else was supposed to know.”
“Peace Rebecca,” Lilian says in quiet resignation. “Milord will not be pleased, but it is done.” Turning to Tabitha, Lilian states, ““Monsignor Lucius’ privilege.”
“Monsignor Lucius?” Tabitha’s eyes widen. Lucius’ privilege is the strictest of controls. Whatever this is about, it can only be discussed with Monsignor Lucius outside this group. “What about Seigneur Trevelyan?”
“Seigneur Trevelyan knows,” Lilian nods.
“Knows what, exactly?” Tabitha comes back to the point.
“Sometimes I am able to see patterns where none should exist,” Lilian explains. “I do not control it. The insights come when they come.”
“I do not understand.” Tabitha shakes her head slowly. “Everyone knows you are brilliant. How are flashes of insight a secret?”
At Tabitha’s confused frown, Chrys interjects, “Lilian understates it. She is sometimes able to make extraordinary analytical leaps with limited facts or information.”
“For example?” Tabitha demands.
“Mercium,” Chrys states baldly.
Stunned, Tabitha opens her mouth for further questions. Rebecca forestalls her. “Lilian, what did you see?”
“Chrys is correct. No one would believe that I had an illicit affair with Martin,” Lilian explains.
“Certainly not after the training chamber beating.” Chrys nods. “Grey Spear may not even have had the nape ties before that incident.”
“Likely not,” Lilian agrees. “From what Tabitha has related, the servitor turned over the ties on or near the day Martin went for me in the training chamber. I suspect the Blooded Dagger associate gave them to Martin in retaliation for being dismissed from the Cartel.”
“That makes sense,” Tabitha confirms. “The servitor who found them had them for nearly two sevendays before turning them over.”
“But if Martin wasn’t going to use them—” Rebecca begins to question.
“Bright Star,” Lilian interjects. “Or mayhap Mercium. Or both. A Grey Spear department seigneur has the rank to make such an accusation without risking his place. They planned to use the nape ties to blackmail me into revealing Bright Star or Mercium privileged information.”
“It must be one of Monsignor Sebastian’s inner circle,” Tabitha comments. “No others would dare incite Monsignor Lucius’ wrath.”
“Why didn’t they do it?” Rebecca asks. “The blackmail?”
“Tabitha changed house,” Lilian replies softly.
“What say you?” Chrys sputters through a sip of cider.
“Monsignor Sebastian was enraged beyond reason.” Lilian takes a calming breath. “The need for retribution exceeded the benefit of blackmail. Master Cesare’s festival has been scheduled for seasons. If Gil had not self-slaughtered, one of the Grey Spear seigneurs would have accused me of illicit contact this past sevenday while monsignor was absent the Cartel.”
“Give up advantage in Bright Star or Mercium to see you punished for Tabitha’s escape?” Rebecca wonders.
“I believe so.” Lilian takes a deep breath. She is sworn to milord’s service and will not be forsworn. Even without knowing milord recalled the lost nape ties, Lilian would not have yielded to blackmail. “Not that it matters. I would not have betrayed Monsignor or Blooded Dagger. When blackmail availed naught, Grey Spear would have come to false judgement.”
That a few days gone the entire Cartel believed Lilian had betrayed Lucius and Blooded Dagger hangs heavy in the air.
“I never doubted you,” Tabitha offers softly. “Nor did anyone in your consortium.”
Wordlessly Tabitha raises her glass to Lilian, quickly followed by Rebecca and Chrys.
“Honor endures,” voices Tabitha.
“Honor endures,” echo Rebecca and Chrys.
“Honor accepts duty’s scourge,” Lilian finishes.
At her friends’ confusion, Lilian elaborates, “It is from an archaic version of the Warriors’ Litany. Appropriately, it is the version carved into the Associates’ Hall podium.”
Into the silence, Chrys offers, “Someone owned an odd sense of humor to place that inscription.”
“Or none at all,” suggests Rebecca. “Sense of humor, that is.”
“Difficult to survive the Cartel without one,” Tabitha murmurs into her wine.
“Think you that was Gil’s failing?” Lilian wonders. She continues to struggle with the notion that having proven his bond, Gil would self-slaughter.
At Lilian’s question, Rebecca stiffens and gazes away. Lilian does not miss the reaction or hesitate to pursue it. “Rebecca, what do you know of Gil?”
“Naught of fact, only supposition, and not much of that.” Rebecca shifts uncomfortably.
“Rebecca, what is it?” Chrys demands. Along with the others, he has been intent on discovering how Lilian’s ties were introduced to Gil’s quarters. He failed to wonder about the true object of Gil’s passion.
“It is slander. Dangerous slander,” Rebecca murmurs.
Nodding, the others carefully relax in their seats, toy with their drinks, and school their expressions to casual humor.
“My acquaintance with him was brief,” Rebecca says, crossing her legs. “Before I was a Raven, I was not acknowledged.”
At her friends’ noises of understanding and encouragement, Rebecca continues, “After I was a Raven, we had occasional contact. I thought I was mistaken. It didn’t seem possible.”
Running a finger around the lip of her glass, Rebecca says with a smile that suggests to observers she is offering a joke, “I su
spect Gil was in love with his seigneur.”
As Chrys spits cider, Tabitha brushes spilled wine from her lap. For a heartbeat, Lilian resembles a carved effigy, and then she breathes.
“Scandal, indeed.” Lilian decorously crosses her ankles.
“That diseased crevasse-crawler,” Tabitha murmurs in disgust.
“Gil?” Chrys is mildly shocked by Tabitha’s hostility. That Gil was so lost to discipline is appalling but more worthy of pity than vitriol.
“Not that deluded man,” Tabitha shakes her head. “To take advantage of the circumstances to seek retribution against Lilian is one matter. To falsify evidence and overlook such damning information against a Blooded Dagger seigneur…”
“Grey Spear knew,” whispers Rebecca in horror. “They knew and condemned Lilian instead.”
Turning to Lilian, Chrys discovers she is unmoving, once again intent on her swirling glass. She is not speaking. Is it another insight? “Lilian?”
“They yielded commercial advantage in this.” Lilian raises eyes darkened with emotion, not clear with insight. “To what purpose?”
Chrys has no reply, nor do Rebecca and Tabitha. Grey Spear could have used knowledge of the Blooded Dagger-rocking scandal to leverage significant advantage in Bright Star or Mercium, the very reason they first retained the nape ties. Instead, they employed a powerful weapon to see an apprentice unjustly disciplined. It is unfathomable.
Lilian’s suspicion that Sebastian Mehta may be deranged becomes a certainty. And, for whatever reason, she is the focus of his malice. A cold spark of fear ignites a sense of desperate helplessness that Lilian resolutely represses. Milord will see Grey Spear’s actions for the insanity that they are.
“Tabitha,” Lilian breaks the silence, “you must voice this to Seigneur Trevelyan.”
“You will not inform the monsignor?” Tabitha responds, confused. “Monsignor will wish to know of this.”
“I dare not. Without evidence, it is slander,” Lilian explains. “Tabitha, you are a free associate. Seigneur Trevelyan may not be pleased, but the seigneur will not indict you.”
Lilian is fairly certain that the spymaster’s Universalist leanings would keep him from beating his apprentice for slander. It is not a theory Lilian cares to test. From Rebecca’s relieved expression, she agrees.