by E G Manetti
Sevenday 85, Day 3
The small, windowless chamber deep in the interior of the thirty-fifth storey is sour with fear and the smell of an unwashed body. The naked man bound to the chair is unshaven and gaunt. The self-assurance that marked Demitrov Sandoval a sevenday gone has been replaced by defeat.
If Trevelyan were Security-Privilege Seigneur for all of Serengeti and not Blooded Dagger alone, he would have access to interrogation chambers in Militia Central. Instead, this is one of three that Trevelyan designed when he returned with Lucius from the pirate actions, its existence masked by utility closets and plumbing junctions. What it lacks in sophistication it makes up for in effectiveness.
“Place your seal,” Joyce instructs, holding a slate under Demitrov’s slack hand. Stripped of her jacket and suit skirt, the female Grim Twin is Lilian’s height but more heavily muscled and with tightly packed curves. The skintight training tunic and briefs are wet with perspiration and Demitrov’s blood. There is not much of the latter. The physical interrogation was perfunctory, intended to remind the traitor of his helplessness and primarily executed by Rodolfo, the male Grim Twin.
Three inches taller than his wedlock partner, with two stone of additional muscle, Rodolfo is similarly attired, a heavy growth of beard adding to his disreputable appearance. With Martin banished from the Cartel and his little court of sycophants cowering in corners, Trevelyan pulled Lilian’s guardians to interrogate the traitor. After more than a year and a half of obscure duty, their absence will not be noted. After more than a year and a half of guarding and spying on Lucius’ exceptionally circumspect apprentice, both operatives were chaffing for a real challenge.
“Nicely done.” Trevelyan includes both Grim Twins in his free-trader grin. “There is more we would know, but enough for now. Find your ease and get some rest. I will contact you this eve after I have the monsignor’s instructions.”
Turning to the two Blooded Dagger guards who accompanied him, Trevelyan says, “Scrub him down. Feed him. Keep showing him the visuals of his brother Benedict in Tiger’s care.”
Sleep deprivation, hunger, humiliation, and stress positioning interlaced with visuals of Benedict’s suffering have broken Demitrov.
»◊«
“You are certain? There is no doubt?” Lucius makes no attempt to hide his stunned reaction to the information that Trevelyan has imparted. Rising from his chair at the conference table, Lucius begins to prowl his office.
“Truly, Monsignor, it defies belief. Demitrov did not lie. He dared not, lest we leave his brother, Benedict, in Tiger Sylvester’s ungentle care. Review of the logs shows that Demitrov approved that fraudulent scrubber contract three years ago at the direction of Seigneur Garwynn. It is impossible to imagine that Garwynn is acting without Monsignor Sebastian, so the only conclusion is that Grey Spear was in league with the counterfeiters. He made certain they had the scrubber mix for their endeavors.”
“Know you what they were after in the Archives?” As ill as it is, Lucius wishes to know the worst.
“The secrets of Laser Sting construction.” Trevelyan watches Lucius’ harsh aspect turn dark. “They knew they could not open the stolen model without it self-destructing.”
“There are only half a score who can.” Lucius nods, his escalating anger only marginally contained by the knowledge that their security-privilege measures have been successful. The Laser Sting devices are sealed with both DNA and codes. In addition to three senior Blooded Dagger technologists, only Chief Amanda, Solomon, Rachelle, Trevelyan, and Lucius can open the devices. Even Thorvald does not have the authority.
Lucius resumes his pacing. While both Sebastian and Elenora know that Blooded Dagger is developing an improved refinement tool, neither cartouche has any use for a tool that has no purpose outside the Crevasse. It’s martial potential is far from proven. And how does this connect to the fraudulent scrubber contract and the counterfeiters?
Lucius strides to his techno array and taps out a few quick commands. Dropping into his desk chair, he sits, fingers steepled, contemplating Sebastian’s treachery.
In fewer than five minutes, the scarlet door recesses, and Lilian rushes in. Finding milord at his desk, she takes her habitual position for reporting and receiving instruction. With a clear view of milord’s visage, her breathing stills. Milord is enraged. The tsunami roils, seeking landfall. Milord’s voice, when it comes, cracks like a whip but does not accuse. “Lilian, sit. Trevelyan, tell her.”
Lilian has been involved since the beginning. Her efforts identified the fraud that led to the counterfeiters and eventually Mercium. She was also the first to identify the hand of the traitor within Lucius’ personal log files and the one who eventually determined that the assaults served Monsignor Angus’ design on a place in Bright Star.
Lilian listens attentively as Trevelyan summarizes what he has learned from Demitrov and what they believe it means. The implications of Trevelyan’s investigation are system rocking. I am the sum of my ancestors. I am the foundation of my family. The beginning, the answer is in the beginning. A pattern forms. Shatters, and forms anew.
“…counterfeiters… synthetics…”
Neither Lucius nor Trevelyan speak as Lilian’s eyes turn water-clear, and she drops into her internal landscape.
“…fraud… sting… Grey Spear.”
With an abrupt change in energy so pronounced Lucius almost sees it shimmer, Lilian ceases to speak and reaches for her slate. A few intermittent taps follow. The face Lilian raises to Lucius is pale and tense, the gray eyes bright with certainty. “Milord’s will.”
Lilian barely notes the consternation in both Lucius and Trevelyan. Her mind is filled with a clarity that is rare for her insights. There are no clouded sections, no ambiguous alternate meanings, and no unexplored pathways. “When milord inquired of Seigneur Marco what the seigneur would do with one such as Demitrov on his leash, Seigneur’s answer was certain and specific. Seigneur Marco would do milord’s will.”
In response to Lilian’s words, Trevelyan and Lucius exchange a bewildered glance. It is a given that Marco serves Lucius’ will.
Intercepting the glance and correctly interpreting it, Lilian continues with serene assurance. “Milord’s will is not Monsignor Sebastian’s will. Monsignor Sebastian’s will is to control Serengeti. It has been so for a decade.”
Trevelyan is the first to speak. “That is madness. To control the Cartel , one must control the Vistrite. It cannot be otherwise.”
“Unless one cannot control the Vistrite.” Lilian speaks softly, slowly, as she embraces the beauty of the pattern, not yet internalizing the Order-rending implications of her words. “We know that Mercium cannot support the higher functions for more than a few months before catastrophic failure. Master Magnus said the counterfeiters knew it, too.”
Raising her gaze from her slate, Lilian addresses milord. “The counterfeiters could have continued for years embedding fake Vistrite in the simpler devices. They could have amassed a system’s worth of wealth and drastically reduced the demand for refined Vistrite before attracting attention. It makes no sense to push the counterfeits into the more complex technology. Unless,” Lilian hesitates as she prepares to voice the unthinkable, “Monsignor Sebastian wished people to die, for the Vistrite supply to be discredited.”
“Lilian, that is ridiculous.” In his astonishment Trevelyan lapses into the familiar. “It would take a great deal more than a few failed toxin detectors to cause an outcry against Vistrite large enough to unseat Monsignor Lucius.”
“Had counterfeit Vistrite made it into the navigational controls of stellar transports, the results would have been disastrous. Potentially catastrophic, if the controls failed on launch or reentry,” Lilian counters. The explosion of a stellar transport within the atmosphere could destroy a city and poison large tracts of land or a water supply.
Gathering momentum, Lilian adds, “Even if that were not sufficient, we know that was not the only intrigue. The counterf
eits may have been but a first step in reducing milord’s influence and control.”
The pattern is starting to fade. It will soon be lost. Lilian rushes on, “Before milord destroyed the counterfeiters, I suspect a great deal of wealth found its way into Grey Spear coffers as well. The loss of that income also explains Monsignor’s Sebastian aversion to me.”
Almost simultaneously, Lucius and Trevelyan make sounds of inquiry. With an acknowledging nod, Lilian expands, “Chrys and Rebecca made the connection between my involvement in Desperation’s affairs and the discovery of the counterfeiters. It is unlikely the Grey Spear Monsignor missed it.”
Lilian’s analysis is chilling and irrefutable.
“What of this Laser Sting intrigue? How does that wrest control of the Cartel?” Trevelyan is well and truly on the scent. Lucius is content to let it be so.
“The version of the Laser Sting demonstrated in the Great Crevasse Refinery destroyed all refined Vistrite within fifteen paces,” Lilian replies. “Imagine what it could do activated in a chemical or pharmaceutical facility. Or, Five Warriors protect us, an environmental toxin-cleansing facility. The cost in life and material would be massive, and there would be no way to trace it back to the Laser Sting. It would appear as if the Vistrite and its controllers had failed, that Serengeti was negligent or incompetent. The media would demand accountability, and the Governing Council would act.”
At the last thought, Lilian stops, her breath catching. The universe is moving once again in response to the horrifying image.
“It defies reason,” Lucius challenges. “Sebastian Mehta would need to be disordered in his wits to consider such intrigues. It is the work of anarchy.”
Lucius rises and strides to the windows. “Even if he succeeded, Serengeti would be all but destroyed. The damage to the Order of the Twelve Systems would be incalculable. Sebastian would inherit naught but a shell. What would he gain?”
“Control of the next millennium?” Trevelyan suggests grimly, well familiar with the darkness of the human heart and the evil that greed and ambition can generate.
Lucius turns abruptly and pins Trevelyan with a stunned frown. “What say you?”
Undaunted by Lucius’ glower, Trevelyan continues, “Mistress Lilian is correct. The man covets control of Serengeti. We know he does not restrain his desires and whims. Who is to say that the death of thousands and the destruction of the Twelve Systems’ economy would deter his ambitions?”
“Socraide’s Sword!” Lucius explodes. “It defies imagination, even in one of Sebastian’s grandiose aspirations.”
“Monsignor knows Sebastian Mehta better than any of us,” Trevelyan returns. “Is it truly beyond belief that Grey Spear’s ambition would lead him to such calculated evil?”
Resting his gaze on Lilian, Lucius shakes his head. “Evil? Sebastian is more than capable of evil acts. What is difficult to believe is that he had the wit to design something of this magnitude. He’s clever, but self-indulgent. It is not a trait that is commonly associated with long-term planning.”
It is Trevelyan’s turn to pace along the windows. As he moves, he speaks, “Monsignor Sebastian has been careful in one respect. All Demitrov’s evidence points to Garwynn alone. We have enough to indict Garwynn on the counterfeits and the theft of the Laser Sting but little on Monsignor Sebastian. We will need to use what we have to crack the seal on Mistress Tabitha and confirm Monsignor Sebastian’s hand in these mad intrigues.”
“Mad intrigues, indeed.” Lucius is having difficulty reconciling the volatile and self-pampering Sebastian with the complexity of this scheme. “Is it possible that Sebastian truly is deranged?”
“Monsignor Sebastian’s ego and temper dominate his reason,” Trevelyan answers thoughtfully. “At what point is reason completely overset? Grey Spear’s use of Gil and the Nemilis scandal was ill-considered commerce to the point of delusion.”
Lucius looks back at Lilian and is forced to agree. “Derangement explains that episode far more effectively than anything else. Grey Spear could have had so much more in return for knowledge of Nemilis’ lapse.”
“If one of Monsignor Sebastian’s rank and power is deranged, it adds another level of threat to the Cartel and the Twelve Systems.” Trevelyan’s lips tighten at the notion. “No reason, remorse, or fear will stay him.”
Returning to the conference table, Lucius gently places a hand on Lilian’s shoulder as she raises her face to his. Lucius doubts she will find the topic pleasant, but he must know. Watching her intently, Lucius says softly, “Lilian, Sinead’s Seer is known to be disordered in her wits. You are familiar with the signs. What think you? Is Monsignor Sebastian deranged?”
Lilian is not troubled by milord’s reference to Maman’s derangement. She has long since come to terms with it. Torn by relief that she may speak her long-held concern about the stability of the Grey Spear Preeminence versus the fear of milord’s reaction when she reveals her beliefs, Lilian begins cautiously, “I cannot say for certain, milord. The Shrines or Master Chin are better able to judge.”
At milord’s impatient expression, Lilian quickly continues, “I am disquieted. As Seigneur Trevelyan identifies, the plans have been risky, with a high probability of anarchy. Such is not the behavior of one ambitious and clever enough to retain Cartouche Preeminence for almost thirty years.”
I am the foundation of my family. Milord is considering, not angered. “Monsignor Sebastian’s rage when Tabitha joined Blooded Dagger was well beyond what could be expected from such an embarrassment. Such erratic behavior is not consistent with a sound mind. Most recently,” Lilian begins and then halts, forcing her will to control the tremble in her voice. “There was the intrigue surrounding Master Gil.”
Honor is my blade and shield.
Milord’s hand on Lilian’s shoulder tightens slightly at the reference and then releases.
Honor knows not fear.
Taking a deep breath, Lilian summarizes, “If Seigneur Trevelyan is correct, Monsignor Sebastian’s actions are the product of dangerous delusion. If not, the monsignor’s erratic behavior serves no purpose and could only come from a disordered mind.”
“From any angle, Sebastian is most likely deranged.” Milord’s dark eyes hood as his lips form a hard line.
As Lilian’s reasoning unfolded, Lucius’ blood ran cold. One of the Cartel’s governors may well be deranged. Should it prove true, Serengeti faces its greatest threat since the early days of Lucius’ preeminence. All he has built, all that is in play, could shatter on a madman’s whim. Sebastian’s mad actions are beyond dangerous to Lucius, Serengeti, and the Twelve Systems. Turning to Trevelyan, Lucius clips out his orders. “We have enough with the counterfeiters and the Archives to indict Garwynn. Are you able to ensnare Monsignor Sebastian as well, do it. Once we have Garwynn’s indictment, we will crack open Mistress Tabitha’s vault of security-privilege and gather it all.”
With a curt “Yes, Monsignor,” Trevelyan exits.
Before Lilian can shift, Lucius snaps, “Lilian, remain.”
Once Trevelyan clears the scarlet threshold, Lucius paces back toward Lilian.
In response to milord’s hard expression, Lilian comes to a stand. Milord is so close she must tilt her head back to meet the irate gaze. Milord’s question is a word. “When?”
Lilian does not pretend to misunderstand. Milord wishes to know when she first suspected that Sebastian Mehta was mad. “When Monsignor Sebastian made such a stir over Mistress Tabitha’s change of house. It was too powerful a reaction for too little cause.”
“That is almost six months gone.” Milord’s hands grip her shoulders. “Why have you not spoken before?” The harshness in milord’s tone mirrors the anger in milord’s visage. Lucius’ Cartel has been at risk for six months while the woman held silent.
“Speak what, milord?” Lilian entreats. “That Monsignor Sebastian terrifies me? That I found Monsignor Sebastian’s obsession with the most junior ranks of the Cartel inexplicable and
frightening? How should I have spoken? What should I have voiced? On what basis could I slander a governor?”
Anxious to mitigate milord’s ire, Lilian adds, “I did counsel with Master Chin on the matters of Tabitha and Clarice. What else was I to do or say?”
Lilian is sick with distress. She could not speak. By not speaking she failed milord and incurred milord’s ire.
What indeed? Lucius thinks. A less intelligent apprentice would not have noticed. Only one with a decade of training would have known how to lay a trail to get the necessary questions asked. Lucius knew the pitfalls of this arrangement when he entered into it. Lilian’s upturned face is pale, the gray eyes are almost black with distress.
Releasing his ire, Lucius reaches out and gently places a hand against Lilian’s face. “Naught. There was naught else you could have known to do or say. Be at peace. I am not angered.”
Sevenday 85, Day 5
The sky is a clear, cerulean blue, the trees in the Garden Center will soon flower, and the cityscape sparkles in the daylight. For Lucius and Seigneur Trevelyan, the beautiful morning mirrors the brightness of their moods. They are poised to destroy a threat against Cartel and Cartouche that they have been battling for years.
Leaving his tea to cool, Trevelyan leans forward in his chair. “Seigneur Garwynn denies all knowledge of Monsignor Angus’ intrigue. He makes no attempt to hide that he used Demitrov for intelligence gathering on Blooded Dagger. He claims he knew naught of the counterfeiting. He assumed the scrubber contract was a small fraud to aid someone Monsignor Sebastian favored at Blooded Dagger expense. In Garwynn’s version, Demitrov approached him with the information that Blooded Dagger’s new cutting tool could also be deployed as a weapon. Therefore the attempted theft was justified because Blooded Dagger is developing a new martial capability without informing the governors.”