by E G Manetti
Thanking Mistress Marieth, Lilian hastens to her worksite. She has a great deal to accomplish before meeting Rebecca in the Archives. Before all else, she sends an alert to Katleen. Her precocious sister is sensitive to fashion and can be relied upon to discover a hair working that will be suitable.
»◊«
Clarice is dancing around the nearly deserted Archives to the amusement of Ann Hunter and two other associates. The cruel game exploits the custom that requires apprentices to remain half an arm’s length from all but their seigneurs. By stepping close, the tormentors force the victim into all manner of contortions to avoid illicit contact. With each step Clarice takes away from her ‘partner’ in the dance, he counters by stepping nearer.
At Rebecca’s hiss, Lilian knows her friend has recognized the nature of the activity and at least one of the associates. Aiding Ann in blocking the exits is Shoshanna Revetali. She is another of Martin’s court and one who has aided Martin in a number of his torments, including Lilian’s extended bells at attention in the Archives the dry season past. The unknown stocky associate partnering Clarice in the dance appears massive compared to the delicately constructed Clarice.
It lacks but a quarter period until midday, and the Cartel is emptying rapidly to embrace the Settlement Day’s half day of liberty. It is unlikely that any will enter of sufficient rank to halt Clarice’s torment. For a moment, Lilian is at a loss. She does not wish to abandon a consortium member to abuse. She lacks the rank to end the game. With that thought, another surfaces.
“If you please, Mistress Ann, I would a moment on Bright Star.” Lilian has invoked her conservator status with the reference to Bright Star. It offers a small degree of latitude that she exploits by stepping closely to Ann Hunter.
Predictably, the associate backs away sharply, her face filled with disdain. Shoshanna echoes the movement with a sneer. The women speak almost simultaneously, Ann offering, “It is Settlement Day. You may wait until First Day for my assistance.”
The unpleasant woman does not end with “doxy,” but the unspoken insult hangs in the air between them.
Mistress Shoshanna is less restrained. “Be gone, doxy. You are disturbing us.”
“As you wish, Mistress Shoshanna, Mistress Ann,” Lilian concedes politely as she turns to follow Rebecca and the rapidly disappearing Clarice from the Archives. Her ploy was successful. In their determination to avoid Lilian’s tainted presence, the associates opened an avenue for Clarice to escape.
»◊«
It is an unusually temperate morning, heralding the rapidly approaching green season. The bright sun in a cloud-spattered sky offers little warmth, but its light heartens Hilda as her transport navigates the narrow transit routes of the River Quarter. Predating the Order of the Five Warriors, the narrow streets once enabled rapid blockades.
Stepping from her transport, Hilda gives the controls to the wiry woman in the painful chartreuse of Tiger Sylvester’s attendants. The servitor presents the cowed, half-starved demeanor of one who could not meet her debts and now works for food and the right to a sheltered pallet for sleep.
Located across the river from the River Quarter Warrior Ring where Lilian was consecrated several months earlier, Tiger’s townhouse is typical of the architecture of the area. Its unremarkable street front is broken by small, long windows above head height. Higher up, larger windows appear. All are well grilled to make it difficult to view the interior. The stout doors are forbidding. On the other side of those doors, Hilda knows that the interior opens onto immaculate grounds reaching to the river.
This day Hilda is not kept waiting in an antechamber; she is immediately escorted into Tiger’s receiving chamber. The expansive windows are open to the sunshine and a light breeze from the river, the chill defeated by warming devices.
The man seated in the throne-like armchair does not rise when Hilda enters, but he does motion her to a chair facing him across a low table. As Hilda settles into the proffered seat, another chartreuse-clad servitor presents her with a choice of tea, mineral water, or ale. After selecting the sealed water vial, Hilda smiles as she salutes her partner.
Tiger’s only acknowledgment of Hilda’s caution is an increased sprawl and a slight twisting of his lips. He says, “Your Volsted pools are returning beyond expectations.”
Lucius’ will for the ringleader of the assault on Lilian manifested the prior day. Those lured into wagering Monsignor Lucius would hold his retribution past Third Settlement Day are now in debt to Hilda. The wagers are due on First Day and Hilda’s salons are the best performing in Tiger’s network.
Preening slightly, Hilda replies, “Not beyond my expectations, Tiger. It’s hardly happenstance.”
At Tiger’s encouraging nod, Hilda continues. “The Third System has no lack of the greedy and foolish. I enjoy exploiting both.”
“Be careful you don’t join them,” Tiger snaps, straightening in his chair. “Your ambition brought you to me. It may yet be your undoing.”
“It already has been,” Hilda returns wryly, well aware that her fall into Tiger’s control was due to her pride and ambition. At Tiger’s frown, she admits, “I made the mistake of underestimating Blooded Dagger. He offers that doxy a deeper shadow than I expected.”
“What are you suggesting?” Tiger is all commerce. “Do you believe she will succeed?”
“Of course not,” Hilda dismisses. “She won’t survive. Not another two years. If she doesn’t self-slaughter, she will fall to the foolish or one of those not so vulnerable to Lucius Mercio’s will.”
Tiger slowly sips hot tea, intermittently blowing the surface. Hilda lightly sips her water.
“You owe me one more odds manager with the new year,” Tiger states. At Hilda’s nod, he continues, “Pool as you will except for the Lilian pools. Don’t expand those you have or open new ones without my agreement.”
Clenching her water, Hilda considers Tiger’s will. He trusts her to predict the actions of Blooded Dagger, the unconventional preeminence of Serengeti, but not a tainted doxy. Grudgingly, Hilda admits she has given Tiger cause for his concern. “As you wish, Tiger.”
»◊«
“Crevasse City Commerce?” Estella says with an amused lilt as Lucius joins her in the intimate family dining chamber overlooking the gardens. In deference to the bright day, the windows are open, although warming units block the chill. Estella is far more interested in the morning’s media report than the temperate day. “It has been less than a decade since that media stream was the scandal-mongering Crevasse City Crier. Someone in that enterprise has ambition.”
“Ambition I will do my best to encourage,” Lucius replies, picking up a glass of sparkling water. “Orion controls well over half the Twelve Systems’ media streams and almost all of the multi-system streams. They will not be a friendly voice to Bright Star or Serengeti.”
“Orion did its best to participate in Bright Star.” Estella nods thoughtfully.
Lucius took a calculated risk in excluding the media stream cartel. If the Orion League had a part in Bright Star, it would be that much more difficult to unseat the League from third among the cartels, a position Lucius wishes for Serengeti.
“Orion is jealous of its position and will use every means to retain it,” Lucius agrees. Even before exclusion from Bright Star, Orion was beginning to recognize Serengeti as a threat. There is little that Orion will not do to undermine Lucius’ ambitions.
Well aware of her spouse’s suspicions, Estella asks, “You remain convinced that the Orion preeminence used her influence on Socraide’s Prelate during Lilian’s protocol review?”
“I can think of no other cause for the hostility of Socraide’s Sect.” Lucius frowns. His annoyance has not dissipated in nearly a year.
The power of the Shrines does not equal that of the Cartels. The Shades’ Prelates, the sect leaders, hold considerable authority. When Lilian’s life hung in the balance, in defiance of Lucius’ will, Socraide’s Prelate favored execution. Onl
y the Orion preeminence, Lady Patron of Socraide’s Sect, holds more sway over Socraide’s Prelate than Lucius. It was only after Sinead’s Prelate added his authority to that of Lucius and Dean Joseph that the balance shifted in Lilian’s favor to the lesser penalty of Trial by Ordeal.
Nor can Lucius discover any other reason Virgil, Socraide’s Keeper in the Garden Center, would have dared his vituperative attacks on Lilian and her family the past dry season. Not that Lucius failed to silence the annoying prelate. Within the Third System, there are few who can stand against Lucius’ will.
“Yet it seems so petty an attack, and Bright Star did not yet threaten Orion’s position among the cartels,” Estella puzzles. “I am still not certain it was not an attempt by Socraide’s Lady Prelate to elevate shrine influence.”
“You may be correct, my love.” Lucius is unconvinced, but he does not dismiss Estella’s opinions lightly. Before Lucius can pursue the conversation, two servitors enter with the meal, followed by the unmistakable sounds of his sons and daughter. Enough of intrigue. The post-midday bells of Settlement Days are devoted to Lucius’ family.
»◊«
The day is mild, with only a hint of chill underlying the breeze that briskly shoots clouds across the broken sky. The heavy rains of the past months have diminished to early evening showers. The green season is well on its way. Tripping along between Lilian and Chrys, Katleen chatters about her studies. “The Universalist musical notation is different, but I have the way of it now.”
Behind the trio Rebecca and Clarice happily compare notes on the fashions for the warming season, Rebecca speaking, “. . . another month and sandals will be possible. Metallic tones are once again popular.”
After her experience in the Archives, Clarice gladly embraced Lilian’s invitation to join the expedition to replace Katleen’s outgrown festival garb. Two months distant is the Five Warriors’ Festival, the central holiday of the Twelve Systems. The festival combines spiritual devotion with celebration and is one of the few days of apprentice liberty.
Preparations have already begun, the new fashions have arrived, and last season’s garb is deeply discounted. By next Settlement Day, two months hence and four days prior to the festival, any garb that remains will have increased in price. The cost for alterations will be beyond usurious.
For Chrys, Rebecca, and Clarice, it is an opportunity to view the new fashions and discover the best-priced merchants. Once the dry season sets in, this season’s fashions will be discounted and within apprentice means.
“Lilian, would not silver sandals be perfect with Sinead’s colors?” Katleen’s attention has drifted from her studies to the conversation between Rebecca and Clarice. Her festival garb will be in the peridot green trimmed with silver of Sinead’s devoted.
Looking at Katleen’s bright, expectant face, Lilian sighs inwardly. Unlike First Settlement Day, Third Settlement Day is not beset with the strain of near insolvency. The building of Lilian’s reserves remains an overwhelming imperative. Does Lilian fail, Sinead’s Shrine will see Helena housed in the Shrine Quarters. Katleen’s fate is more precarious. As tainted as Lilian, Katleen will not be permitted to dwell in the Shrine Quarters in defiance of warrior opinion. The life expectancy of a shrine beggar will not see Katleen to her majority. With this day’s bond payment, Lilian’s reserves barely equate to two months of Katleen’s school fees and lodging with the Universalists. There remains little latitude for frivolous expenditure.
Shaking her head, Lilian replies, “Not this season, sweetling. You are likely to require both new training boots and regular footgear by the new year.”
At Katleen’s crestfallen expression, Chrys hastily interjects, “Sweet Katleen, have no worries in this. You will be so fine in your new festival garb that no one will even glance at your feet.”
At Chrys’ words and endearment, Katleen brightens immediately. Other than her school attire, Katleen has not had new clothes in over a year.
“Although it is not my favorite, Sinead’s peridot does become me,” Katleen confides shyly. This day she is once again garbed in her preferred pale purple, covered by the overlarge teal jacket that Lilian insisted upon.
“And, as you will have passed your twelfth year, you may have a full-length skirt do you wish it,” Lilian encourages.
“Something with a flare, perhaps,” Rebecca adds, regretting that her idle chatter raised Katleen’s hopes. Although the loathed Dean Rupert receives the customary bond price of fifty percent of Rebecca’s wages, what remains allows Rebecca to indulge in her taste for fashion. The Serengeti Associate Quarters are modestly priced, and unlike Chrys, Rebecca has no family she must aid.
Unlike the other apprentices, Lilian’s university fees were paid by her defunct cartouche and not a bondholder. Dean Joseph, Lilian’s educational mentor, receives only the standard agent fee of twenty percent. A commission he would forgo if he could do so without a charge of special consideration. Lilian’s greater share of her bond price is offset by the expenses of maintaining her small family.
“. . . side slits,” Katleen is discussing skirt styles, “so that I am not hampered in combat.”
“Combat?” Clarice startles. “Do you expect to spar at the festival?”
“Oh no,” Katleen denies with a shake of her head. “But one should always be prepared.”
“Yes, one should.” Lilian lightly touches the thorn at her side, visible in the absence of a jacket. Leaving her hair in its warrior’s queue, Lilian exchanged her Raven black for dark green leggings and a knee-length knit tunic in the same hue. The warm and comfortable garb allowed her to abandon her battered canvas jacket.
It is a handsome company that Mr. Hidaka waves to Lilian’s table. Chrys is in the same blue tunic and trousers that revealed his virile physique at Lilian’s consecration. Over it he has added his charcoal leather jacket, left open in the warm breeze. Rebecca’s deep rose tunic and ankle-length skirt flatter her coloring and display her figure to advantage while a burgundy wrap protects her from the chill. Clarice’s jade-green trousers and tunic accent the grace of her slender figure and the perfection of her honey-gold skin, and a quilted black vest serves in the place of a jacket.
The subject of festival attire temporarily exhausted, Katleen’s sunny nature has reemerged and she is bubbling with excitement for the next topic. As Mr. Hidaka approaches to take their order, Katleen attempts to share her excitement, “Lilian, the Volsteds—”
At Lilian’s quelling glance, Katleen subsides to permit Mr. Hidaka to take their order. As soon as the restaurateur moves away, Katleen begins again. “It was as you predicted, Lilian. Monsignor delayed the final retribution until last. The Volsteds . . .”
At Lilian’s severe face, Katleen’s voice trails away. She has erred. “I beg pardon, Lilian. It is your consortium. I believed it known.”
Lilian has not discussed her assault at the hands of Patrick Volsted and his friends with her consortium. She cannot express why. She simply does not wish to dwell on the experience or discuss it.
“Lilian, it is a matter of record that Monsignor Lucius’ property was assaulted some months gone.” Clarice’s dispassionate legal tones cut through the tension between the sisters.
At Lilian’s startled gaze, Chrys says, “You need not discuss what distresses you. Mistress Katleen has released no secrets.”
“It’s the Cartel, Lilian,” Rebecca adds with a wry smile and an air of long-suffering patience. She and Lilian have had this conversation in the past. “There’s naught that relates to Monsignor Lucius that goes unnoted.”
Considering her concerned friends and crestfallen sister, Lilian yields. “Rebecca, what does the Cartel know, or believes it knows?”
There is no question in Lilian’s mind that of the four of them, Rebecca will have the most complete and reliable information. In this, Lilian is not mistaken.
“Three of the elite attempted to have their will of you. The militia intervened and protected Monsignor Lucius’ prope
rty,” Rebecca recites. Her tone holds a bite even as Rebecca attempts to mirror Clarice’s dispassion. “Monsignor extracted severe fines for the violation of his property rights. No one believes the shadeless scum succeeded in their intent. You were seen to move freely about Serengeti the next day. It was dismissed from gossip within a sevenday. Everyone is fare more interested in Monsignor Lucius’ retribution against the Gomezes and Hernandezes and Monsignor’s plans for the Volsteds. It’s not wise to challenge Monsignor.”
“What say you, Rebecca?” Lilian returns, in equal parts relieved that the focus is on her assailants rather than her assault and surprised gossip continues after so much time.
“Lilian, you must know that half the city has been waiting since Second Settlement Day to discover Monsignor’s will for the ringleader of the misdemeanor,” Chrys interrupts, once again confounded by how one so brilliant can be so oblivious.
“I broke one’s foot and blooded the other two. I experienced no harm beyond a split lip and a burn from the satchel strap,” Lilian responds coolly.
“Well done.” Chrys’ accolade is accompanied by the thump of his glass on the table.
“Rimon Condemn them,” Rebecca snarls in unison with Chrys’ statement.
“Your thorn!” Clarice exclaims, a breath behind the others.
At Clarice’s unexpected response, Lilian turns her gaze on the legalistics apprentice.
Responding to Lilian’s unspoken question, Clarice shrugs. “I have viewed you in training with Master Trevelyan. You are beyond quick with the chalk. Holding a live blade, I am surprised they live. Truly, it is a pity you could not employ it on Martin and Roger.”
When Lilian trains with Master Trevelyan, she uses a chalk thorn to mark her trainer. She no longer displays her blade in the training chambers, although she continues to carry it under her jacket when not with milord.
“Even were it not a violation of the Apprentice Protocol to draw warrior blood, I could not in honor employ a live blade against training swords,” Lilian counters, recalling the grim moments of Martin’s assault. “Had I been able to grasp Martin’s blade, I might have fared better.”