by E G Manetti
“There is yet another who regrets crossing Monsignor Lucius’ will,” remarks Chrys with a deeply pleased expression. At Lilian’s obvious confusion, Chrys expands, “The associate who returned Martin’s blade to him was of Blooded Dagger.”
“Past tense, Chrys?” Lilian inquires.
“Swept from Blooded Dagger and Serengeti the next day,” Rebecca confirms. “I understand his seigneur made no attempt to defend him. Apparently it’s acceptable to disdain and insult you. It’s not acceptable to aid another cartouche in humiliation and assault on a Raven. It dishonors the Blooded Dagger Cartouche.”
Rebecca finds the ways of the warrior fascinating and astounding. She cannot resist inquiring, “Have you trained with a blade since your tenth year?”
Both sisters respond in unintentional unison. “Yes. Skill with arms is central to the purpose of the warrior discipline.”
At their mutual words, Lilian and Katleen exchange a glance and then a smile. The sunny expression on the girl of eleven is a common one. Its pale echo on Lilian is a wonder to all three of her friends. Chrys has beheld it no more than thrice. In this Chrys has the advantage over Lucius, who has yet to behold it without the influence of Chin’s potions.
“Very well, Katleen, since all is known and you appear to own the end to the tale, voice Monsignor’s will for the Volsteds.” With the incident known, Lilian finds it troubles her less than she expected.
Patrick Volsted’s branch of its cartouche derives its primary income from interplanetary cargo transit in the Third, Sixth, and Seventh Systems. Within the Third and Sixth Systems, Serengeti and Blooded Dagger are the largest customers of cargo transit services.
The Volsted enterprises have been blacklisted.
The Volsteds will have no commerce from Serengeti or Blooded Dagger or any enterprise dependent on the Cartel or Cartouche. The family income has been cut in half. The Volsted cartouche income is reduced by ten percent. The preeminent member of their cartouche has publicly rebuked Kenneth and Padmaja. The family is to remove to the Seventh System where Serengeti and Blooded Dagger have limited influence. There, with hard work, they may redeem themselves by rebuilding the lost income stream.
“It is not well to be on the wrong side of Monsignor’s will,” Katleen completes with a profoundly satisfied air.
12. The Consortium
Among those who fall into the Crevasse are those who have crawled into it to hide. Some never crawl out. It is no easy matter to dwell in a Crevasse. The trade in decadents is persistent but, due to the diligence of Serengeti militia, not extensive. Miners successful enough to afford the illegal substances rarely indulge. Unsuccessful miners use the chemicals in depleted cutter canisters to find oblivion. These crevasse-wallowers mine only enough Vistrite to justify a place in the Crevasse and buy minimal food allotments. Deeply addicted, they can deteriorate to the point where they cannot mine, and then take up the practices of the crevasse-crawlers, subsisting on stolen food and garbage. Crevasse-wallowers can, if they are careless enough or impaired enough, fall prey to the swarming crevasse-crawlers. ~ excerpt from Vistrite Crevasse, Serengeti Archives.
Sevenday 31, Day 6
The sea is warm and welcoming. Its tangy scent envelops Lilian as she floats at the edge of the shore. Relaxing, restful, wondrous, if only she could . . .
Rouse, woman.
Rouse? The sea retreats, leaving a chill in its wake. For a moment, Lilian struggles against pleasant lassitude. The command repeats. “Woman, the bell advances, it is time to rouse.”
Bell. Rouse. Milord. Bright Star!
In a heartbeat, Lilian is awake and sitting up in milord’s penthouse bed. Shaking her head to clear away the last of her passion-induced fog, Lilian finds milord standing by the bed, pulling on the scarlet robe.
“Lilian, your gown is in the next chamber,” Milord says as he moves toward the freshening closet. “You have a half period.”
»◊«
The chamber door recesses at the touch of Lilian’s finger. She has never attempted to enter this chamber or any other in the penthouse. Without milord’s escort or permission, it would be effrontery. It is also highly unlikely the controls would yield to her touch. At this signal of milord’s trust, Lilian warms with pleasure. Privacy and a new gown.
Clutching her mist-green wrap to her breasts, Lilian explores the bedchamber. She is not chilled. The grace of the wrap is another symbol of milord’s favor and Lilian will enjoy it as she will enjoy her brief use of this elegant guest chamber. The finest in modern amenities are intertwined with what are certainly antiques and likely family pieces. Where milord’s bed chamber favors the black and scarlet of Blooded Dagger, this room is gold and green with touches of burgundy.
As much as Lilian would like to explore the contents, she dare not. Half a period is only minimally sufficient for her preparations. Within the wardrobe cabinet, the gold gown shimmers. Reaching out a careful finger, Lilian confirms her impression. The bodice and skirt are of heavy, expensive silk; silk gauze serves for the minimal shoulder straps that will act as sleeves.
There was a time when Lilian expected such quality in all her garb. Now, all she retains are what is left of her worn university garb. Other than this dress, she is not likely to own anything so fine again.
Enough! Lackwit. That life is gone. Mourn it not. Look to milord. With those bracing thoughts, Lilian quickly assesses the rest of the attire. Mistress Marieth was correct, milord has provided. The gold pumps have a higher heel than Lilian prefers. Lingerie? Lilian’s lips twitch as she examines the delicate wisps of gold lace that comprise her strapless bra and miniscule briefs.
Does milord anticipate another encounter? Surely not. Lilian shakes her head. It is Sixth Day, milord will not require her again.
»◊«
Cleansed, Lilian debates briefly, gown or hair? Hair. The simple but elegant working is neatly laid out on Lilian’s slate, courtesy of Katleen. She will not risk hair preparation spotting the lovely dress.
I owe Katleen a boon, Lilian thinks a few moments later as she anchors the final lock. The gown beckons and is readily donned, the fasteners conveniently, and invisibly, located on one side. It fits to perfection. Of course, milord would have it no other way.
To Lilian’s relief, in defiance of the current fashion for clinging knits, it does not display her every line and curve. It is alluring without revealing. The tailored bodice is tight to Lilian’s torso and flairs over her hips. The heart-shaped neckline is hung from her shoulders by two bands of fabric that act as sleeves. Cut low across the back, the dress reveals her shoulder blades and creamy skin.
One hair anchor remains. Lilian randomly embeds it with the others, not entirely certain the arrangement will remain secured. Gathered loosely, high, and to the back of her head, it falls in waves to the base of her neck. Her only ornaments are the miniscule gold posts in her ears and the scarlet conservator’s seal pinned at her waist with one of Maman’s vestment fasteners.
Until Maman produced the fastener with the admonishment that “the belt is not ready, employ the fastener,” Lilian had not been certain her mother understood the event planned for this evening. Well aware that her black thorn belt would be inappropriate for the dress, Lilian planned to attach the seal with the aid of a tailor’s pin. Maman’s ornament is far more appropriate to the elegant gown.
Milord is beyond stunning in midnight-blue formal wear. Lilian forces a serene countenance as she approaches the compelling figure. Milord’s formal jacket is snugly fitted to the broad shoulders and tapers to the waist. The precisely creased trousers are gracefully tailored to milord’s long legs.
The high collar of the jacket bears the insignia of Blooded Dagger worked in the platinum and rubies indicative of the Cartouche’s preeminent line. Seigneur Marco’s insignia will be of identical design but worked with gold instead of platinum.
A scarlet sash encircles milord’s waist, accented by a black belt from which dangles the Cartouche preeminence s
ignet, an elongated oval the length of Lilian’s thumb and worked in platinum and rubies. Also hanging from the belt is a formal dagger, its hilt and sheath also worked in platinum and rubies. Ostentation aside, Lilian knows the live blade within the sheath can serve a deadly purpose.
For warriors, blades are de rigueur with formal wear. Even were it not forbidden by the Apprentice Protocol, Lilian could not display her thorn. It is a serious breach of custom for commoners to bear a personal arm at a warrior reception even though they have the right to do so. The only exceptions are militia on duty and prelates.
Suppressing a sudden surge of desire at the sight of milord, Lilian waits tensely for milord’s verdict. At milord’s gesture, Lilian pivots slowly for milord’s inspection. Returning to her position facing milord, Lilian glimpses a flash of male appreciation accompanying milord’s nod of approval.
As Lilian completes her twirl, Lucius is taken by the sudden urge to strip the entrancing figure to the gold lingerie that lurks beneath the beguiling gown. Wishing nothing to distract him from the evening’s purpose, Lucius arrived at the penthouse early to enjoy his apprentice before the reception. The strategy is proven as Lucius is able to suppress his rising desire.
»◊«
The cool evening breeze raises gooseflesh on Lilian’s bare arms and shoulders as she follows milord from the transport and up the steps to the entrance of the Warriors’ Summit, one of the finest warrior clubs in Crevasse City. In addition to its spectacular views of the Garden Center, the elegant edifice boasts all the amenities of an elite guesthouse.
The dignified and opulent setting would appeal to Dean Joseph. At the thought of her mentor, longing stabs Lilian. Bonded to Lucius Mercio, Lilian has ruthlessly submerged her yearning for her mentor and foster father. As milord’s apprentice, Lilian must look to milord and only milord. The warrior club has compromised Lilian’s resolve and brought Dean Joseph into her mind.
Adelaide’s thorn! In her distraction, Lilian has failed to keep pace with milord, he is a full pace ahead. Lengthening her stride, Lilian closes the distance before milord reaches Sebastian and Elenora, who are gathered with Marco, Kemeha, and Ayesha. Hovering nearby with Fletcher, Nickolas sends Lilian a sharp frown at her lapse.
After greeting the monsignors and seigneurs, Lucius briefly acknowledges the protégés, who subsequently disappear into the interior while Lucius takes his place at the head of the receiving line, Lilian behind his left shoulder.
Milord’s game is intriguing. Lilian is curious as to how it will play. As Lucius Mercio’s conservator, she lacks the rank to be included in the formal greetings. As an apprentice, she should not be present at all. Milord has not voiced it, but Lilian is certain it is another gambit to assert milord’s dominance over the Bright Star Consortium and to keep Monsignor Horatio off-balance.
Monsignor Horatio is, without dispute, the most powerful warrior in the Twelve Systems. In the Bright Star endeavor, he yields place to Lucius Mercio. It is not a position the Matahorn preeminence will accept without challenge. Lilian’s ambivalent rank in the consortium, coupled with her notorious reputation, invites the highly ranked warriors of Bright Star to challenge her presence. A challenge that none will dare to offer—with the possible exception of Monsignor Horatio. If Broken Blade offers a challenge, milord will refuse to yield, reinforcing his preeminence in Bright Star. If Horatio Margovian ignores her, it is a tacit admission of milord’s preeminence. Clever, devious milord.
There is a rustle of movement at the entry, heralding the arrival of the first guests. I am the sum of my ancestors. None will insult me while I am within milord’s shadow.
The first three seigneurs to arrive include the Matahorn seigneur for the Third System. I am the foundation of my family. The Margovian is not the source of Lilian’s concern, nor is the other man. It is the lovely woman clad in yellow silk that holds Lilian’s attention and knots her stomach. Honor is my blade and shield.
Without a glance at Lilian, the woman in yellow sways toward milord. The tight points of her nipples swing provocatively, their visibility confirming that there is naught but flesh beneath the clinging silk. Her heavy-lidded gaze and seductive smile signal her interest in milord. Milord’s greeting holds a note of appreciation at the display, but no true interest. With a final sway of her hips, the woman moves away from milord. Honor knows not fear. She will not dare.
As the warrior passes Lilian, a familiar sneer twists the pouting lips and invokes their last encounter, when the lovely woman spat on Lilian and Katleen to the amusement of the market crowd. That it was but one of many such incidents does not alter the sting of the ugly episode or the cruel laughter. Lost in recall, it is a moment before Lilian recognizes the sound of milord’s amusement. Milord!
Lackwit! Focus! Honor endures. Distracted by the Matahorn warriors, Lilian failed to note the newest arrivals and has no notion as to the source of milord’s sudden laughter. This is ill. Attend milord.
For the next quarter period, Lilian stands attentively, carefully noting the attitudes of the arriving warriors and milord’s reactions. More than one stiffens at the sight of Lilian, but none fail to offer milord the deference he is due. Clever, devious milord.
A slight shift in the air, an almost-imperceptible tightening in milord’s shoulders, is all the warning Lilian receives before she is confronted by the sight of Monsignor Horatio Margovian. That Monsignor Horatio is well known to milord is not surprising, nor is the tension between the two men. It is a rare circumstance where Broken Blade takes second position.
Horatio Margovian is a robust man of above-average height that leaves him several inches shorter than milord. The strong, leonine features hold a habitually severe expression that is intensified by the dark brown eyes and thick black brows that imply a frown of displeasure even when the face is relaxed. The bronze dome of the monsignor’s shaved head gives no hint that as a younger man, his hair was dark, wavy, and worn long. Six months of enduring milord’s intense regard allows Lilian to remain composed when that severe gaze flickers over her. Lilian is pleased it does not linger.
Accompanying his father is Seigneur William. Of a height with his father, William is more finely built and fairer than his father, although several shades darker than milord’s olive tones. The wavy chestnut hair holds hints of his mother’s blonde. The gray-flecked blue eyes are definitely a maternal legacy.
William’s pleasant, charming countenance has often misled competitors into underestimating the warrior. More than one commerce rival has suffered for the error of assuming that William owes his place to his father’s indulgence and not commerce ability. Lilian is well aware that the misleading warrior is a worthy heir of Horatio Margovian. For a moment, the seigneur’s regard rests on Lilian with open curiosity before moving onto the waiting ranked members of the Bright Star team.
With the Margovians are the Bright Star seigneurs from the other two Matahorn cartouches, Dark Axe and Bright Fire. The Dark Axe seigneur is a sultry brunette in her late thirties. Her fashionable blue knit gown shimmers and clings to her voluptuous figure, revealing every detail. Stepping close, the woman’s skirt swirls over the tips of milord’s boots as she offers milord a flirtatious smile along with her greeting. The Dark Axe warrior is the fourth to offer herself to milord this evening and among the most blatant. The highly ranked woman flicks Lilian a dismissive glance as she yields to the Leonardo Society contingent.
Monsignor Angus, whose profile indicates a genius for engineering and commerce, is much less intimidating than the Matahorn leaders. He has a short, blocky build, and his sandy hair stands out in a brush around the wide, smiling countenance. Pale, freckled skin, warm brown eyes, and a vibrant expression offer an impression of a man in his thirties rather than his fifties. His blatant, albeit brief examination of Lilian is not intended as rudeness. Manners in the Fourth System are a great deal more relaxed than those of the Third System. With the arrival of the Leonardo Society, all the guests are present and the receiving lin
e breaks up.
“Lilian, you may leave me.” Milord does not turn his head as he dismisses her.
As the ranked members of the consortium follow Lucius into the most prestigious of the reception chambers, more than one gaze lingers on the lovely woman in gold retreating into the club.
Head high, shoulders squared, Lilian walks toward the chambers set aside for the general reception. I am the sum of my ancestors. Given a choice, Lilian would prefer to remain with milord as his apprentice, to pour his wine and taste his food. I am the foundation of my family. Milord wills another path. Lilian must walk it. Honor is my blade and shield.
Unspoken by Lucius is the hope that the lovely and notorious young woman’s presence will cause an otherwise unintended slip or two. Lilian is to note all comment and mine it for Serengeti and Blooded Dagger benefit.
Honor knows not fear. It is naught but a reception. You are well garbed, Lilian mentally braces herself. She knows her duty and she will execute it. Even before the ruin, Lilian avoided the elaborate gatherings of the elite whenever duty permitted. It is far too easy to err in these circumstances.
Dean Joseph. You must not shame Dean Joseph, Lilian mentally admonishes as she recalls her university mentor’s expectations. Honor endures. Stiffening her already rigid spine, Lilian moves into the crowded chamber. Honor acts as duty commands. She will not shame milord, Dean Joseph, or herself with weakness.
Five score of the unranked commerce elite mingle in the three other chambers reserved for Bright Star. Fewer than half of those present are assigned to Bright Star. The others are retainers from the local Serengeti, Matahorn, and Leonardo interests who have connections with the consortium members. The official purpose of the reception is to introduce the consortium members and welcome the visitors. It is also useful to discover what other commerce might be explored.