Bright Star

by E G Manetti

  “Master Simon is certain that the synthetic will work with the Iron Hammer controllers with only minor adjustments.” Lilian’s reserved delivery is an echo of the solemn little girl who, one season, was companion to Nickolas’ youngest sibling.

  Without his brother’s prodding, Nickolas would not have recalled eight-year-old Lilian. He also recalls his brother’s pique when little Lilian triumphed in the salamander hunt. Pettiness may be genetic, Nickolas thinks as he recalls how his pique at Lilian’s entrance to the Cartel led him to cruelty and, even worse, dishonor. He defied his mentor in thought and deed, neglecting Lilian’s training to the point she collapsed. It was rancor, not righteousness that kept him standing idle while Grey Spear shamed Blooded Dagger. He risked Matahorn gaining advantage in the Bright Star negotiations in his self-serving determination to see Lilian destroyed.

  “With the Shades’ Grace, the small market trial will commence . . .”

  Shades’ Grace. Nickolas knows he is well outside it. His warrior honor tarnished by over two seasons’ willful defiance of his mentor and all that resulted. He has erred and erred badly. The small facsimile of true Vistrite he rolls between his fingers is the final blow that shatters Nickolas’ once-comfortable certainty.

  “The forecasts call for full production by the end of this decade . . .” Lilian presents the models she has developed with the aid of the synthetics team.

  The work is exceptionally sophisticated. Monsignor’s apprentice has managed to create an analysis that few can match. She has done so while executing her conservator duties and supporting Bright Star. Nickolas’ mental calculations are irrefutable. It has not yet been a year, and Mistress Lilian’s contributions to Blooded Dagger are nearing the value of her bond price two full years before it should be possible.

  Initially appalled to learn that Lucius Mercio was taking Remus Gariten’s offspring to apprentice, Nickolas eventually reconciled to the arrangement as the personal indulgence of a powerful warrior. Nickolas should never have doubted Lucius Mercio’s commerce judgment. Monsignor would never trust his property to a plaything.

  “Troy, Monsignor? Truly?” Marco bursts out with a laugh. Swallowing mirth, Marco continues, “Monsignor, when this is known, there will be none who will doubt you have supernatural aid in your endeavors.”

  “Not luck, Marco, hard work and diligence, yours among them,” Lucius returns with a smile.

  As Nickolas comes to understand the significance of the Troy saltmarshes and the intersection of the synthetics and Bright Star, he reconsiders his earlier calculations on Lilian’s bond price. The contained woman by the reviewer is at the center of these developments in ways that have not been revealed. It is quite possible she has already validated her bond price.

  Slipping the small rod of crystal into his pocket, a talisman against arrogance, Nickolas Cyncad yields. Honor acts as duty commands.

  »◊«

  The Archives windows glow with light from the adjacent buildings. Eighth bell has chimed as two apprentice associates, one in Raven black and the other in the olive of Grey Spear, work together in a remote corner of one of the extensive chambers. Lilian and Tabitha are five sevendays into the execution of Master Trevelyan’s not-illegal plan.

  As Blooded Dagger’s head of security-privilege, Master Trevelyan constantly seeks associates with the potential to join his elite group. With the assistance of Associate Master Straus, apprentices and junior associates are tried by what they believe are routine assignments administered over the course of twelve to fourteen months. Should they meet Trevelyan’s exacting standards, only then is the true purpose of the trials revealed.

  Lilian is impressed by the spymaster’s deviousness. She has no expectation that Tabitha will meet Trevelyan’s standards, but the trials will provide Master Straus with the evidence he needs to aid Tabitha in a placement beyond Grey Spear. Should Monsignor Sebastian discover what goes forward, that the trials are conducted under Trevelyan’s authority places Lilian well out of harm’s way.

  The brief three months before Tabitha’s bond proves require that she know she is being assessed, so she has been told the purpose is to assist Master Straus in finding her a place beyond Serengeti. Tabitha is clever enough to wonder about the associate master’s assistance and speculate about the true purpose of her unexpected allies. She gave voice to neither thought, accepting the story without expression. She has passed one trial.

  “These are the basic financial checks for any commerce enterprise,” Lilian demonstrates. “Should you find an exception, check the results twice more. Improperly executed checks are far more common than exceptions.”

  “Should I find an exception, what are my next steps?” Tabitha is focused on the work in front of her, glancing back and forth between her slate and the reviewer.

  “I believe that is what the associate master wishes to know. How you would find the answers. The only assistance I may render is to advise you to be as specific and detailed as you are able,” Lilian replies.

  Nodding, Tabitha considers the assignment and then pulls a stimulant wafer box from her bag. Under Lilian’s bemused gaze, she breaks a wafer in half, putting one piece in her mouth to dissolve and the other half back in the box.

  At Lilian’s wondering glance, Tabitha volunteers, “Know you not this device? A whole one at this bell will keep me awake until third bell. One half will only take me to dark of night. Enough to keep me sharp while I finish this, not enough to deprive me of sleep.”

  In some concern Lilian remarks, “I understand from Master Medic Chin that too frequent use will cause debilitating effects. I do not believe a documented case of wafer abuse will aid your cause.”

  Smiling at Lilian’s concern, Tabitha assures her, “That is another reason for a partial wafer; as little as possible as infrequently as possible. Should I find proper use of this insufficient assistance for the next ten sevendays, I will counsel with the Dispensary.”

  Reassured, Lilian takes her leave and makes her way to the lobby to meet her transport. Patrick Volsted’s assault offered milord the latitude to provide Lilian with a Serengeti transport when she remains late within the Cartel. His right to protect his property supersedes the provision in Lilian’s sentencing agreement that she receive no special consideration or assistance.

  For these transits, Lilian does not encounter Mr. George, and the transports are more utilitarian than milord’s luxurious vehicle. It is therefore with some surprise Lilian greets Mr. George in the lobby. “Well met, Mr. George.”

  “Well met, indeed, Mistress Lilian. Do you accompany us this evening?” Mr. George’s question enlightens Lilian. He awaits milord.

  “Not this evening, Mr. George. I was late in the Archives. It is happenstance that we meet,” Lilian returns.

  “It is a fortunate happenstance, Mistress Lilian. My thanks for the visual of the tree-troll. He is quite a handsome fellow.” Mr. George’s tone does not alter, although a teasing light enters his eyes.

  In the thrall of Master Chin’s potions after the wafer incident, Lilian voiced her silly fancy that Mr. George resembles a tree-troll. To her relief, Mr. George expressed amusement, not offense. Thinking he would enjoy Helena’s rendering of him as a tree-troll, Lilian sent a carefully cropped visual to the driver.

  “I have thought so, Mr. George.” Lilian returns the sly humor. She is pleased to be able to reward Mr. George’s steadfast courtesy in such a small manner.

  “Thought what, Lilian?” Milord’s voice startles Lilian.

  “I beg pardon, milord. I failed to hear milord’s question.” Lilian mentally scrambles.

  “It is of no moment. It is well you are here. Come,” Milord says, moving toward the exit.

  “Yes, milord.” Following in milord’s wake, Lilian quickly taps out the cancelation of her transport as well as an alert to Katleen that she will be late.

  Lucius entered the lobby annoyed he had failed to arrange for Lilian’s attendance. With both Bright Star and the synthet
ics gathering momentum, the days are long and full for both master and apprentice. Opportunities for extended dalliance are less frequent. It was likely to be two more days before another opportunity. At the sight of Lilian in conversation with George, Lucius’ groin tightened pleasantly. He is going to have exactly what he desires.

  Once seated in the transport, Lucius watches silently as Lilian unbinds her hair, carefully storing the nape ties before brushing out her tresses. Lucius visualizes how it appears cascading down her naked back, spread across his pillows, spilling over his lap. The erotic mental images increase the pleasant tightness in his groin and bring him to briefly consider closing the privacy panel.

  Discarding the notion of immediate gratification, Lucius’ mind races to the penthouse, considering the possibilities. He imagines disrobing Lilian in the riser and enjoying her on the entryway floor, spreading her on the silk rug in front of the windows, taking her on the dining table. By the time they are in the riser, Lucius is starting to swell, his trousers to constrict.

  As Lucius shrugs out of his jacket, Lilian follows his lead and removes hers. Smiling, Lucius starts to loosen his tunic, watching as Lilian mirrors him again. The riser pings and the doors open. Striding through the reception salon, Lucius moves directly to the bedchamber, having settled on exactly what he wishes.

  Milord is in a strange mood. Lilian pulls her blouse free of her skirt as she follows milord to the bedchamber. Milord has not spoken a word since that “Come,” although heat has risen in milord’s eyes and milord’s trousers tent with the evidence of milord’s desire. Crossing the bedchamber threshold, Lilian watches milord drop his jacket and shirt on the chair. Without hesitation, Lilian’s blouse and jacket find their usual place on the console table, along with her slate bag.

  Milord is standing by the windows, regarding her. Milord unfastens his belt, silently cueing Lilian to finish disrobing. Nude, holding his belt, milord crosses to the bed. Kneeling at the ornate headboard, milord laces the belt through the top brace. Discarding her lacey rose silk lingerie, Lilian follows milord to the headboard. Silently, milord hands her one end of the belt and then the other so that Lilian is on her knees facing the headboard. She can feel milord move behind her, knees on either side of her, stiffened sex grazing her.

  Hands sift through Lilian’s hair, caressing her back, sliding around to cup her breasts. There is warm breath against her ears, and milord softly voices, “Do not speak, do not let go.”

  Choking back a reflexive “Yes, milord,” Lilian nods.

  Warm breath and then warm lips caress Lilian’s temple as milord’s hands move from her breasts to her waist and around to her back. They begin to stroke and knead the mounds of her buttocks. One hand delves low, grazing her sex before returning to knead and caress her further. Lilian wants to open her knees, invite exploration, but milord’s legs hold her captive. Milord sets lips and teeth to her shoulder blades, waist, and buttocks. Milord lingers briefly on Adelaide’s Mark, causing shivers with each contact. Lilian writhes in response. She wishes those lips and teeth on other, more sensitive parts.

  Milord’s hands cup her breasts, and clever fingers stroke, tug, and tease the tips to aching tenderness. The warm breath along her neck becomes insistent lips, tongue, and teeth. One of those hard hands with clever fingers glides into her nether curls, tugging gently before moving lower to stroke the nubbin of her sex. Rubbing and pressing, the deft fingers give pleasure and build desire before once again teasing along nether lips.

  Milord’s hand on Lilian’s breast tightens, sending a throbbing pulse to her center. Unthinkingly, Lilian writhes backward into milord’s chest and thighs and groin, rubbing her bottom against milord’s erect shaft. One hard knee presses between Lilian’s knees, freeing her from the prison of milord’s legs. At last! Lilian parts her thighs, invites milord to her. Milord’s other knee shifts, widening her further. The hand on her sex, now able to access every inch, takes full advantage, bringing Lilian to hot, wet, swollen need.

  The woman beneath Lucius’ hands is twisting and straining, her hands convulsing on the belt. Small noises come from her throat as Lucius pushes Lilian as close to the brink as he can. Positioning himself at her core, he runs his sex along her opening. The heat and moisture stiffen him past urgency. Willing to wait no longer, Lucius thrusts into Lilian, feeling her convulse around him, squeezing him, pulling him deeper. Lucius gives into his own driving desire, pounding hard and fast, finding the rhythm that brings him to release while a sharp cry is pulled from Lilian’s throat by the force of her delight.

  Hands braced on the headboard on either side of Lilian, Lucius finds his wits returning. The woman beneath him is limp, head hanging, hands locked on his belt. Gathering her into his arms, Lucius murmurs, “You may let go.”

  »◊«

  “A prelate, Lilian?” Milord’s voice holds amusement as his breath tickles Lilian’s ear and neck. Milord is propped up on pillows, Lilian pulled back against his chest. Milord’s arms are around her as one hand plays across her stomach while the other toys with a strand of hair. “You lay with a Universalist prelate?”

  “Universalist? Milord? Prelate, milord?” Stunned by the pleasure of her release, half dozing, her wits wandering, Lilian has trouble comprehending milord’s words.

  “Andreas Chiang, the Universalist.” Milord’s breath is warm against her neck, her ears. The hand on her belly rises to trace her ribs.

  Stretching a little under the stroking hand, befuddled by lingering languor, Lilian responds, “Andreas is not a prelate, milord, who spoke such?”

  “His mother is the Holy Mother of the Universal Conclave,” Lucius insists.

  Understanding dawns in Lilian’s mind. Within the Warrior Sects, prelates are considered the living retainers of a Warrior’s Shade. Their positions are hereditary, although direct descent is not mandatory. The prelate has the option of selecting his or her successor from any member of the devoted who is worthy.

  “It is different within the Universal Conclave, milord. Their prelates are elected by the devoted. The Holy Father who preceded Andreas’ mother was not kinsman. Andreas does not even belong to the Conclave.” Lilian has no inhibitions in responding. She expected milord to have Andreas investigated.

  “When you were in need of funds, he would not aid you?” Turning Lilian in his arms, Lucius lays her on her back. Mulan’s Temple is the premier university in the Twelve Systems. The master scholar of even an obscure area commands considerable income. Casually, Lucius brushes a lock of dark red hair across one deep rose nipple, evaluating the contrast in color and texture.

  “Could not, milord,” Lilian avows. “All Andreas’ funds are expended on digs.”

  Lilian’s tone is distracted. She is mesmerized by milord’s examination of the lock of hair teasing her breast.

  “Digs, Lilian?” Lucius’ curiosity piqued, he ceases his play with Lilian’s hair and meets her eyes.

  “Archaeological digs, milord. It is an esoteric and expensive aspect of Ancients study,” Lilian explains. “Andreas transports a team of scholars and students to Ancients’ ruins. They dig through the rubble looking for artifacts that may provide clues to how the Ancients lived.”

  Lilian yields to temptation and runs one fingertip along milord’s waist and hip. The slight scrape of her fingernail raises gooseflesh along milord’s flank. “It is rather fascinating, but tedious and very dusty.”

  “You attended one of these ‘digs’?” Lucius mirrors Lilian’s motions, delighted with her rare boldness.

  At Lilian’s affirmative purr of pleasure, Lucius begins to nibble. “Did you find anything ancient?”

  “A pretty silver and gold ornament pitted from age. Andreas was very excited. It was quite old, three thousand years,” Lilian replies distractedly, far more interested in milord’s shoulders.

  Chuckling as he nibbles, Lucius remarks, “Trust a woman to find jewelry, regardless of how long buried.”

  Starting to execute a little nibblin
g of her own, Lilian replies, “Not jewelry, milord. Too big. Mayhap a lintel ornament or something similar.”

  Shifting, milord captures her mouth for a kiss. As the kiss deepens, milord’s hands become demanding, insistent in their exploration, making Lilian writhe and seek closer contact. One of milord’s legs slips between hers, his thigh pressing against her sex, rubbing lightly. Lilian wraps her legs around it, seeking to bring the pressure closer, feeling milord’s swelling organ against her hip while her hands caress and explore the curves of milord’s buttocks.

  Releasing Lilian from his kiss, Lucius slides his other leg between her thighs, opening her, spreading her. His hands and mouth caress and tease her breasts into hard peaks. “Did he please you?”

  What? Please me? Andreas. Shades take the tenth stricture! Lilian cannot ignore the question. She must answer truly. Ahhh. Milord’s teeth scraping a taut peak have Lilian gasping her response. “Yes, milord, at the time he pleased me.”

  Having lost her grip on milord’s buttocks, Lilian is running her hands over milord’s back and shoulders, eagerly rubbing her sex against the hard length of milord.

  Milord’s hands move lower to stroke and arouse her, working her opening and then the sensitive jewel at the pinnacle. “At the time?”

  “I do not believe he would please me now.” The last few words are moaned as Lilian writhes under the clever fingers.

  Fingers that are replaced by the velvet tip of milord’s erection. It rubs across her opening, taunting and teasing while Lilian sends her hands from milord’s back to his chest, finding and stroking the dark nipples.

  “And does this please you?” Milord’s intent is as relentless as his tormenting caress.

  “Yes, milord, yes. Please, milord, please,” Lilian whimpers.

  With a controlled thrust, Lucius enters her. “It pleases me as well.”