by E G Manetti
“Have you no better means to carry these?” Lucius frowns.
Eyes closing, Lilian responds, “Silver is too soft, and copper stains.”
Unlike the conservator’s seal on her warbelt, these items are not for public display.
Smiling a little at the pragmatic response, Lucius clarifies his question. “Is there no other place for these?”
“Only my slate bag, milord.” Lilian’s eyes open and fix on milord. She need not remind him that the slate bag was nearly lost.
Recognizing the legitimacy of Lilian’s concern, Lucius acknowledges, “Perhaps not. Very well, do as you think best.”
Returning to the subject at hand, Lucius demands, “Are you well otherwise?”
“My head continues to ache. Master Chin provided a potion, but it will also make me sleep. Otherwise, I am well,” Lilian admits.
Knowing that sleep will benefit the young woman, Lucius cannot completely restrain his driving need for answers. There is much to discuss. For now he will settle for one or two immediate questions before releasing her. “Militia Central was a good thought. How came you to it?”
“They were close, they are well trained, and they are Serengeti before any cartouche. They would make good witnesses, and it was likely they had well-defined protocols for dealing with disturbances beyond their rank,” Lilian responds.
At milord’s encouraging stroke of her shoulder, Lilian continues, “With the recording device, I had evidence of the events in the Archives. The militia would provide irrefutable evidence thereafter. I did not expect we would be held overnight. It was the Luck of the First that Seigneur Thorvald was still within the Cartel.”
As Lilian completes her explanation, she again rests her head against the scarlet couch, her pallor waxen against the vivid hue.
“It was the Luck of the First to be held overnight? How so?” Given Lilian’s ragged appearance and prior experience with incarceration, being held overnight should have been a torment.
“Martin had no ability to collude with others and work new evidence,” Lilian comments dispassionately. She should sit straight but cannot quite summon the will.
Struggling to remain alert, Lilian continues, “Without the seigneur’s authority, we would have been released to return today. The chain of evidence on the recording could have been broken. It was not pleasant, but it was better this way. I believe Seigneur Thorvald may have suspected it. There are others who would have released the protégé and held the apprentice.”
“The seigneur disdains you.” Milord’s statement implies a question.
Lilian is not surprised milord has noticed.
“Yes, milord, but the seigneur honors Serengeti and his duty. It is enough.” Lilian can no longer hold her eyes open. “I beg pardon, milord. My head aches.”
Leashing his curiosity, Lucius responds to Lilian’s need. “You are to take Chin’s potion and sleep. Mr. George will be along to carry you home and collect you when it is time to return. I will expect you at fourth bell after midday. There is more to discuss before fifth bell.”
At fifth bell, Martin is to be caned. Lilian, as the injured party, must be present to witness it.
»◊«
Lucius carefully examines the young woman gracing his lap, her back resting on the couch arm. Sleep and the opportunity to remove the traces of yesterday’s battle have done much to improve Lilian’s appearance. Her gray eyes are clear, and while she remains pale, color has returned to her lips. Lucius lightly strokes the soft fall of loosely braided hair that has replaced Lilian’s warrior’s queue.
Tilting her head toward his hand, Lilian volunteers, “Maman’s work. She claimed it would ease the last of this morning’s headache, and it did.”
“I cannot release you from this. Are you certain you can bear witness?” Lucius refers to Martin’s impending caning.
I will not fail. I will not fall. Lilian dreads the event, but she will not allow Martin to go free. “I am able, milord.”
“This is not the end of the matter,” milord reminds her. “By the time the courts are finished, he is likely to be severed from his cartouche and banished.”
Assault on Lucius Mercio’s vessel is the same as an assault on Lucius. The penalties will be severe.
Closing her eyes, Lilian leans into the hand gently caressing the uninjured side of her face. Milord’s other hand rests reassuringly on her hip. “I must. I cannot kill him. This will need to suffice. There are others who deserve to witness as well.”
Milord’s embrace tightens encouragingly, and Lilian continues, “Truly, milord, I grow weary of those seeking my demise.”
Milord’s caressing fingers halt. “Think you Martin meant your death?”
“It seems likely, milord,” Lilian responds. “It would not be the first occasion.”
Without Chrys’ timely intervention, Martin might well have killed Lilian in the training chamber. Although that is not the only reason for Lilian’s conviction. “No witnesses, no monitors. He did not work alone. Martin’s acts of nastiness have always been acts of opportunity, spontaneity. This was planned and the preparation was more elaborate than for rape alone. Martin has wit enough to know that if I lived to accuse him, milord might not require any further evidence.”
Lucius Mercio’s retaliation for three warriors attempting to rape her a year gone is becoming legend. Even with his high status and connections, Martin could expect no less if his ill deeds were discovered.
At Lilian’s words, milord’s grip tightens again and then relaxes. “You have given this much thought.”
“All of last night, milord. I had no ability to sleep,” Lilian confirms.
Seeing the frown growing on milord’s face, Lilian insists, “I am well, milord, but I am also puzzled. Why such an attack? Why now? We know Monsignor Sebastian will not hesitate to commit a crime against the Cartel. But so soon? For no other purpose than my death? It was not easy to disable the monitors, and how could they have known I would be there alone? There was another purpose in this, and I was but a target of opportunity. What I cannot fathom is what is worth the risk of sabotaging the monitors? It makes no sense. I dislike intensely that it makes no sense.”
“I dislike it as well,” Lucius says, frustrated that the investigation has resulted in naught. The Archives have been sealed since the previous evening when Thorvald realized that the monitors were compromised. Neither Liger nor Trevelyan has been able to determine the source of the problem or confirm Lucius’ conviction that the sabotage was caused by Damocles. Further interrogation of Martin has gained no additional information. He continues to maintain that the recording was falsified.
At the alert chimes, Lucius rises reluctantly, pulling Lilian with him. “It is time for you to go. Master Nickolas will escort you.”
In response to Lilian’s startled expression, Lucius says, “Martin’s rank requires his peers witness as well. Return to me after.”
»◊«
In the rapidly filling Associates’ Hall, Lilian is immediately greeted by Master Straus. “Conservator, if you will take your place in the front.”
The front? Lilian dreaded witnessing this from the back row with her fellow apprentices, but in the first row, it will be even worse. To her relief, Fletcher waves at two seats open next to him, indicating that Lilian will have the company of both protégés during the caning. Before following Nickolas, Lilian cannot help but ask, “Master Straus, if you please? Has the source of the monitor failure been discovered?”
“No. Master Liger has decided to replace the units in the hope that will restore the system,” Master Straus replies.
Nodding her understanding, Lilian takes her place with Fletcher and Nickolas.
It lacks ten minutes until fifth bell as Lilian continues to search for a purpose for the monitor sabotage. As Fletcher and Nickolas watch with curiosity, Lilian speaks softly to herself, clearly lost in thought.
“Monitors… acts of opportunity… what benefit…” The speaking hal
ts abruptly, and Lilian springs to her feet so quickly they can almost hear the air displacement. In three steps, Lilian reaches the Associate Master at his station by the podium.
“Master Straus, if you please, have they started to replace the Archives’ monitors?” The intensity of Lilian’s voice and gaze seize Straus’ attention as much as her words.
“Not as yet, Mistress Lilian. Master Liger agreed to wait until I could be present. Is aught amiss?” Straus is curious and more than willing to indulge Lilian after all she has endured from Martin and Sebastian.
“Amiss, yes, Master Straus, it is indeed amiss. I may know how the monitors came to be sabotaged. It is not certain. I must contact Seigneur Solomon. May we delay a few moments while I do so?”
Leaving his senior aide in charge, Straus escorts Lilian through a side door and into his office. It is only a few minutes before they return, Lilian rejoining the protégés and Straus bringing forth Martin.
Honor knows not fear. Honor endures.
As Master Straus leads Martin to the podium, the hall is silent. Looking around, Lilian finds Martin’s court gathered in a subdued huddle behind her. There are none of the contemptuous or humiliating comments that were prevalent at Lilian’s scourging.
“Martin’s friends have naught to say this day,” Fletcher murmurs, correctly interpreting Lilian’s gaze. “Those of us who hold him in disdain are better bred than his friends.”
At Fletcher’s words, Lilian shudders slightly. Some part of her knew the charismatic protégé was present for her scourging and the crude catcalls of Martin and his friends.
At Lilian’s shudder, Fletcher frowns, and then his expression sharpens. “Will it please you, I can embrace low behavior for this occasion.”
Fletcher’s words, and the relish he takes in the offer, dispel the evil recall of her shame. Lilian meets Fletcher’s glance with serene eyes and a movement of negation. “My thanks, Master Fletcher. I pray you, do not lower yourself. He is not worth it.”
No more can be voiced. Master Straus has begun to read the conviction and the sentence.
As conservator, Lilian is equal in rank to Martin. The penalty for the blow to her face is ten strokes for assault, as opposed to the twenty Douglas received for assaulting a superior in rank. For attempting to force carnal knowledge of Monsignor Lucius Mercio’s vessel, another twenty are added.
Honor does what duty commands.
Lilian would like to close her eyes. She cannot. She must witness. The cane rises. It slices the air with an evil hiss, followed by the sharp sound of impact. A pale pink mark appears. It will soon redden and swell.
I am all that my family was.
This is a man who has routinely tormented her and abused her friends. Martin jerks under the impact of the fifth blow but makes no sound.
I am the stone laid for the future.
Martin broke two of her ribs and would have struck her fallen form without Chrys’ intervention. Martin’s back is red from the blows.
Honor is both shield and blade.
Martin intended to rape and mayhap to murder her. The blows are crisscrossing.
The honorable do not bend to fear.
Martin yielded her nape ties to Grey Spear and reveled in her torment. A trickle of blood drips along Martin’s ribs.
The honorable accept duty’s scourge.
Martin is bleeding in four places when the Dispensary staff releases him from the podium and removes him from the hall.
Lilian gathers herself and rises to be the first to depart the hall as custom demands. In addition to Nickolas, Fletcher falls in beside her. Glad of the escort and unable to find voice, Lilian nods her thanks. She is also very glad she has foregone food since the Master Medic’s protein bars and fruit juice early in the day.
At the risers, Fletcher asks, “Are you well?”
Neither protégé missed the white-knuckled grip Lilian maintained on her slate satchel during the caning.
The short walk has helped Lilian regain her control. She manages, “Yes, my thanks, I am well. I must return to Monsignor.”
Lilian’s steady voice does not quite match her pale face, and both warriors insist on accompanying her to the scarlet door.
Alerted to Lilian’s return by the ever-vigilant Mistress Marieth, Lucius is halfway to the door when it opens. The pale, but clear-eyed woman entering the chamber is a relief.
Taking her by the shoulders, Lucius looks carefully into her face. “Are you well?”
Knowing it is impossible, Lilian does not do what she very much longs to do—lean into milord and cling. She must stay focused. The monitors.
“Yes, milord, I am well,” Lilian responds evenly.
“Very well, you may return home. Use your transport token until you are released from restricted duty.” Milord starts to turn away.
“Milord, please, the monitors, has Seigneur Solomon briefed milord?” Lilian is desperate to know if she has found the key to the previous evening’s events.
“What say you, Lilian? What about the monitors and Seigneur Solomon?” Milord turns back to Lilian.
“Milord does not know?” Lilian asks, bewildered. “They may not have started. They were to wait for Master Straus. I thought the seigneur would begin immediately.”
Her disjointed explanation is adding to milord’s confusion and beginning to give rise to irritation. Lilian stops herself and starts again. “I beg pardon, milord. I am making very little sense. I beg a moment.”
Containing his impatience, Lucius nods. Lilian has cause to be overset.
Straightening her shoulders, Lilian begins again. “I believe it possible that the Archives’ monitors were deliberately damaged by something similar to the new Laser Sting technology.”
Pleased at her clear summary statement, Lilian tips her head to meet milord’s eyes. The walls spin and milord’s face retreats as her vision clouds. Before she can reach out for support, Lilian finds herself pulled into milord’s arms. Milord’s voice is commanding, “Do not faint. I forbid you to faint.”
Resting against milord’s chest, Lilian acknowledges, “No, milord, I will not faint. I am well.”
“Five Warriors take it! Woman, you are not well.” Milord lifts Lilian into his arms and settles on the couch, Lilian held firmly in his lap. “I must know what you suspect, or I would send you home right now. You have three minutes. Voice it.”
Dizziness retreating, Lilian replies, “The target was the Archives, or rather unmonitored access for the night. I was in the way. They were impatient or mayhap running out of time. Had they waited another half period, I would have left, and the Archives would have been theirs.”
“Illicit access to data,” Lucius murmurs, the pieces beginning to fit together. “The traitor.”
“Yes, milord.” Lilian resists the desire to relax into milord. She must finish. “The probability that milord has two such traitors is very low. Whatever data was desired, either it cannot be accessed with the old method, or the traitor is aware that traps have been laid. Should I be correct about the monitors, milord will know soon. Seigneur Solomon will recognize the damage immediately.”
Completing her recitation, certain she has complied with milord’s will that she voice it all, Lilian closes her eyes and rests her head on milord’s broad shoulder.
“Lilian.” The word is soft, and Lilian opens her eyes to meet milord’s warm gaze.
“I did not faint, milord,” Lilian insists.
Smiling a little, milord confirms, “No, you did not. You have done well. I know you wish to wait for Seigneur Solomon’s conclusions, but you must go. Master Chin’s instructions on your restricted duty are very clear. Someone will alert you when we know.”
“Please, milord, why must my duty be restricted? It is not much worse than a training accident.” Reduced commerce bells are insufficient reward for the loss of milord’s attentions and the restrictions on her training.
Mindful of Chin’s warning that the physical damage is minor compar
ed to the potential mental and spiritual damage, Lucius watches Lilian carefully for signs of distress. “I believe Master Chin is concerned about shock. That man meant rape, if not murder.”
“It is not the first time. Master Chin is over careful.” A hint of sulkiness enters Lilian’s normally decorous tones.
Lucius is troubled both by the truth of the statement and the nature of Lilian’s experience that she can so earnestly dismiss such a foul encounter. Nor will he agree that a woman who nearly fainted a few minutes gone is as well as she would have him believe. With a small sound of frustration, Lucius chides, “Lilian, only you would regret having your workload lightened.”
At milord’s words, so similar to Chrys’ comment on her Mercium duties, Lilian suddenly feels bereft. Something must have shown on her face. Milord’s countenance darkens as he demands, “What is it?”
Shaking her head in denial, Lilian knows she cannot inform milord that she suddenly longs for her absent friend. The fact that she should react so to a chance remark suggests that all may not be as well with her as she thought.
“Milord, the Master Medic may have the right of it. My reactions make no sense,” chagrin has replaced the dark shadow that had briefly passed across Lilian’s face.
“Whether the Master Medic does or not, you will abide by his instructions. Remain here until Mr. George comes for you.”
28. Traitors
By the third century of the Order, the Shrines had developed from archives for the records of the Five Warriors to the governing authority for the spiritual well-being of the devoted. Disordered wits were determined to be manifestations of the Shades of the Five Warriors, and treatment fell to the Shrines. True derangement is a rare occurrence. Most shrine reviews resolve with a ruling of mental weakness or meager character, afflictions that limit commerce success but do not require shrine supervision or sanctuary. Occasionally, true criminals will attempt to hide behind a plea of Shade Derangement. The Shrines are highly skilled in discerning such charades and referring the matter to a protocol review.