by E G Manetti
“We might have fared ill had Masters Fletcher and Nickolas not joined the fray.” Lilian stiffly acknowledges the protégés’ assistance.
What ails the woman? Perhaps the child has taken some unreported harm. “And your sister, all is well with her?”
Weariness seeps from beneath Lilian’s tight reserve as she responds, “Katleen refuses to take shelter at the Universalist school. I cannot convince her or Maman. Sinead’s Shrine will not compel her; the most they will do is provide Katleen escort to and from the school.”
Grasping Lilian by the shoulders, Lucius searches her stiff and guarded countenance as he demands, “What troubles you in this? You have vanquished your attackers. Your companions are unharmed and your sister is well tended. I would expect you to be more pleased.”
Nodding in the direction of the reviewer screen, Lilian replies, “Those visuals, milord. They have been displaying for bells. Outside the Garden Center District, none noticed us. Now there is no place where we will be able to pass unrecognized, ignored. It will be months before this new round of scandal dissipates.”
Socraide’s Sword! The threat of Lucius’ retribution has significantly reduced Lilian’s physical peril. As the drunken Matahorn thugs proved, it has not been eliminated. Due to the media, a fickle populace that had begun to lose interest in Gariten’s tainted offspring is once again focused on Lilian. She has cause for her concern. Lucius’ property rights cannot be stretched to include a bodyguard. There are other methods available. “Take counsel with Master Trevelyan. His operatives are adept at disappearing in plain sight.”
As Lilian considers his words, her shoulders soften and her aspect begins to lighten. “Yes, milord. My thanks, milord.”
With Lilian’s slight relaxation, Lucius returns to the topic of interest. He has some questions about the events of the previous day and he wishes to distract his apprentice from her concerns. “How did you manage to disable two at the first pass?”
Lucius has viewed the amateur visual multiple times and cannot ascertain how it was done. Yet there is no mistaking it. As soon as Lilian struck, both the men restraining Katleen were disabled.
Lilian shakes her head in denial. “I did not, milord. It was expedient to let the militia and media believe so. I took out the lout holding Katleen. Katleen disabled her tormentor with a kick.”
Lilian’s countenance lightens further with pride in her sister’s defensive skills.
“And the man restraining Katleen? In the ass, Lilian?” Lucius queries with twitching lips.
“I dared not kill him. I needed to disable him. I scored bone.” Lilian adds the last with open satisfaction.
“You scored bone on the one you disarmed as well. It is possible he will not achieve full mobility in that arm again,” Lucius offers.
“Good, given the use to which he chose to put it,” Lilian grimly replies.
Lucius is relieved by Lilian’s attitude. Adelaide Warleader’s consecrated has reemerged.
“Your companions did well with the others, a broken jaw, a broken nose, and a detached retina.” Lucius approves. “I admit to some surprise, I would not have expected Mistress Rebecca to be so fierce in battle.”
“Seigneur Thorvald favors her. The seigneur provides her with extra training time. Rebecca has done well given such a late start in Rimon’s Discipline,” Lilian explains, her spine softening with her loosening shoulders.
Continuing, Lilian’s expression lightens in recollection. “Master Fletcher took two teeth with that broken jaw. I believe shattered is a more accurate term for what Master Nickolas did to the other one’s nose.”
Recalling Lilian’s vengeful program for Damien St. Gervais, Lucius is curious. “Will you seek further retribution against these men?”
“I know not, milord. Katleen has yet to determine her will in this,” Lilian explains. As the wronged party, it is Katleen’s right. “Although, Katleen has begun on her own. My sister was certain in her testimony to Sergeant D’Angelo. While four of the five were drunk and cruel, Gregor Matwan was somewhat else. I believe the militia is looking closely into his past as it relates to young girls.”
Gregor Matwan, the man the entire system has viewed attempting to raise the skirt of a twelve-year-old.
“The assault charge you laid will not hold, you have not the standing,” Lucius states. Lilian is an apprentice, she cannot give legal witness.
“Yes, milord,” Lilian acknowledges. “We—the Militia Sergeant, Clarice, and I—did not believe it would. It did allow Sergeant D’Angelo to take the Matahorn contingent in charge while waiting for Sinead’s Keeper to indict on my mother’s behalf. Sinead’s Lord Prelate has put his seal to the charge. It will hold.”
“I imagine it will,” Lucius agrees. He has only marginal acquaintance with Sinead’s Prelate. It is a situation Lucius intends to correct.
“Are you certain your mother is not a seer?” Lucius follows. “It is a convenient coincidence that you were so well prepared for this battle.”
Lucius refers to Helena’s augmentation of Lilian’s martial arts training by having Adelaide’s thorn defend against the short sword common to Sinead’s Discipline. That training accounted for Lilian’s ability to face off against the short sword so effectively.
“Truly, milord, I do begin to wonder,” Lilian admits. “It seems happenstance that I faced the short sword and Chrys the long. Had Chrys faced the short sword and I the long, it is possible that I would have been the one sealed and Chrys unmarked.”
Despite her skepticism, Lilian cannot ignore the evidence. “Is it also happenstance that Maman insisted Katleen change from the sandals she planned to don to ankle boots suitable for a warriors’ pilgrimage? After a point, multiple coincidences are not happenstance any longer but a pattern.”
At her own words, an odd speculative expression passes across Lilian’s face.
“What is it, Lilian?” Lucius is too clever—and too experienced with his apprentice—not to pursue that expression.
“Another happenstance that forms a pattern, milord,” Lilian acquiesces. “Adelaide’s Discipline is uncommon. It is designed to provide a weaker combatant triumph over a much stronger one, or avoid battle entirely. It is also the only one that uses a blade small enough that one not a warrior may carry it.
“In less than a year, I have four times been drawn into combat. Had I been trained in the Fourth Warrior’s Discipline as intended, I might not have fared so well. All set in motion by my readily bored four-year-old self.”
Fascinated, Lucius insists on hearing the rest. How the elaborate plans for Lilian’s dedication to Jonathan Metricelli sent a bored little girl seeking her own entertainment. Amusement she found in the lap of a seven-foot stone effigy with gruesome accessories.
“Lilian, I have been to Adelaide’s Alcove. Were you truly playing with that belt?” Lucius cannot help but be entertained by the image.
“I was but four, milord. I do not believe I understood the significance,” Lilian responds coolly.
“I am not certain I agree with that.” Lucius is laughing now. “Know you what you were singing?”
“The Warriors’ Litany, I knew it well. Maman would sing it to me as a lullaby.” Lilian’s face softens briefly at the memory. Now that she has a solution for Katleen’s and her increased visibility, Lilian is able to relish yesterday’s victory and milord’s approval. She finds herself wishing milord would kiss her.
Whether he has read her mind or is simply following his own inclination, milord does just that. For long moments, Lilian enjoys milord’s attention.
Ending the embrace, milord places a small token in Lilian’s hand. “You did very well yesterday. You may have tomorrow at liberty. Take this and replace your festival garb and your sister’s. It was clearly worse for the encounter with those Matahorn thugs.”
“My thanks, milord,” Lilian responds, bemused by milord’s kiss and entranced by milord’s smile.
“You are to visit Master Medic Chin and
have him confirm you have taken no ill. Leave me now,” Milord instructs.
“Yes, milord.”
»◊«
Lilian is not alone is receiving the approval of her master. Clarice and Rebecca are ecstatic to be informed by Associate Master Straus that he is pleased with their courage in battle and composure in front of the media. As both women had their festival garb destroyed in the service of Serengeti honor, the Cartel has provided funds for replacements and the next day as a day of liberty to shop. The associate master is also insistent that their battle wounds be reviewed by the Cartel’s medics.
Concerned by the information that Chrys required sealing, Seigneur Rachelle has him strip to the waist so she can personally examine the sword gash that runs six inches across his left side. Although long, it was a shallow blow, only deep enough to require sealing on the first two inches.
After placing a gentle kiss on the wound and then Chrys’ lips, Rachelle smiles at the handsome young man. “Your gallantry pleases me. It is as strong as your wit. I also approve of your festival dress. You are very alluring in it. I would see it replaced. Take this and tomorrow as a day of liberty.”
“My thanks, milady,” Chrys returns, delighted by both the kiss and milady’s favor.
“Chrys, have the medics check your wound,” Rachelle instructs.
“Yes, milady.”
After Lilian, Douglas is the least damaged of the five. His right cheek is purpled from a hard blow during the melee. Happily, the bone beneath is sound.
Regarding the beautiful man he has apprenticed, Seigneur Aristides yields small sounds of concern as he runs gentle fingers over the bruise. An inch or so taller than his apprentice, Seigneur Aristides is a slender whippet of man. His hazelnut complexion goes to dusk as it covers finely hewn features in which reside soft brown eyes. Perfectly groomed, the casual elegance and easy communication of Serengeti’s Media Management Seigneur mask a sharp, manipulative mind.
“You are marvelous in battle, Douglas, I am well pleased. I am even more pleased by your quick wit with the media. Well executed. Had there been no tourist visual, the sight of those bleeding women, and that little girl dwarfed by Master Chrys, would have done what was needful to confirm Master Nickolas’ account.”
With apprentice testimony inadmissible and Katleen a minor, the tourist visual was important corroborating evidence for the Serengeti position. The jewel vendor, a commoner, was not likely to withstand pressure from the elite of Matahorn. Douglas’ quick thinking ensured that the media record reflected well on Serengeti.
In his secret heart, Aristides has acknowledged he is enamored of his apprentice. Although he has shielded his shame, until the prior day, the warrior was not certain that his weakness had not colored his commerce judgment. This day, Aristides is certain. His apprentice excels at media management. Aristides has not failed in his duty to Grey Spear, Serengeti, or his apprentice.
“My thanks, milord. Truly, I felt much out of my depth. I would there had been time to counsel with milord. Is there aught else I should have done?” Douglas is dedicated to his duty and knows that there is much he lacks in experience.
“It is a good question, Douglas.” Aristides is pleased by the question. Douglas is ever eager to learn. “It would have been well to weave in that four of the combatants are part of the heroic Bright Star endeavor. That would have increased the credibility of Master Nickolas’ account. It would also have added a distraction that could focus the media on courageous Serengeti endeavors that do not include bloodshed.”
Chagrined that he missed such a useful play, Douglas acknowledges his failure. “I beg pardon, milord. I should have thought of it.”
“No need for pardon, Douglas. You did very well.” Aristides punctuates his reassurance with another gentle caress to the bruised cheek. Continuing, he adds, “You had little time, and even a more experienced associate might have missed that. I noticed in the visuals that your festival garb sustained more damage than your person. Take this and replace the items. You may have tomorrow as a liberty day. Truly, I am very pleased with you.”
Drawing the young man into an embrace, Aristides enjoys a gentle kiss. Although Aristides desires to deepen the contact, he does not. He will not risk excess pressure on the bruised face.
Glowing with pleasure at his seigneur’s approval, Douglas savors the delicate caress as a signal of milord’s concern even as he wishes deeper contact. It is not to be.
Releasing Douglas from his kiss and his presence, Aristides instructs, “Discover what the medics can do about that bruising and any discomfort you may have.”
“Yes, milord. My thanks, milord.”
»◊«
Master Chin makes no attempt to mask his exasperation with the five lightly damaged apprentices crowding the Dispensary waiting area. “Truly, there is naught my staff or I can offer that the healers at Sinead’s Shrine have not already done. Why are you here?”
The chorus of “Monsignor, Seigneur, Master Straus wishes it” causes Chin to shake his head in disgust. “Enough. Mistresses Rebecca and Clarice, use the first chamber. You two men take the second. Mistress Lilian, come with me.”
23. Warrior Signet
The Twelve Systems’ population nears fifty billion, of which only one hundred million can claim warrior status. A mere two-tenths of a percent hold genetic descent from the Five Warriors and their retainers. Among these warriors, one in a hundred holds a seigneur’s gold signet, one in ten thousand holds a platinum signet.
Once a signet is licensed by the Governing Council, it becomes hereditary. Whether gold or platinum, a signet is passed to a single heir. The platinum of the cartouche preeminence signet signifies the monsignor’s authority to issue gold signets based solely on the monsignor’s will and the cartouche’s ability to pay the Governing Council license fees.
Other than inheritance, signets can be acquired through dedication, loyalty, and exceptional service to a cartouche. Often the preeminence will require that the license fee be paid by the new seigneur. The accumulation of sufficient wealth to pay the fee is one indication of superior commerce ability. Within the cartels and other commerce ventures, master associates are equivalent in rank and income to junior seigneurs. Warriors who hold these positions have the highest probability of earning a signet. ~ excerpt from The Signet, an academy primer.
Sevenday 45, Day 2
Lilian is pleased. The signs are unmistakable in the lightening in her countenance, the grace in her step, the loose swing of the normally so-squared shoulders. From his half-reclining position on the scarlet couch, Lucius represses a smile as he reaches for Lilian and pulls her across his lap for a kiss. It is midday and Lucius has very specific plans for the period.
Plans that appear to be altering.
As responsive and willing as Lilian is, after nine months, Lucius knows that he does not have her complete attention. Releasing Lilian from his kiss, Lucius watches as her eyes flutter open and she gazes up at him expectantly.
“Voice it, woman.”
“Milord?” The gray eyes are wide with confusion.
“What is it you wish me to know?” Lucius insists.
The expression of eager anticipation that washes over Lilian’s face is almost comical. As she opens her mouth to speak, Lucius halts her with a raised finger. Yielding to the inevitable, Lucius unceremoniously pushes Lilian upright so that he is able to go from reclining to sitting. Comfortable, he pulls Lilian across his lap in a manner that allows him to both hold her and see her face. Lucius tilts his head in inquiry.
In response to milord’s interrogating gaze, Lilian reveals, “There is a scandal at the Matahorn Alliance. Damien St. Gervais, recent protégé to Monsignor Horatio, has been dismissed under the seal of security-privilege. He has been severed from his cartouche and banished to the supply depots in the Eleventh System.”
“Eleventh System supply depots?” Lucius echoes. It is not quite the depths of a Crevasse, but it is sufficient. Damien will labor at
unlovely tasks in an obscure corner of the galaxy. Horatio Margovian must have discovered the whole of his dishonorable protégé’s deception.
“Yes, milord,” Lilian confirms. “I understand that the quarters allotted the sled teams are quite cramped. The team themselves are often built from criminals as well as the poor.”
The Twelve Systems does not incarcerate its convicted criminals other than those who have committed annihilation offenses, and they are not housed for long. All other crimes are punished through fines, corporal punishment, or compelled labor.
Damien St. Gervais will find his companions in labor at least as unpleasant as the drudgery of hauling import and export merchandise in and out of the supply depots. Nor will there be any escape for Damien; sled teamsters do not warrant private quarters.
A dark smile spreads across Lucius’ face. “Lilian, you have done well. The insult to me and to my cartouche is well answered.”
At Lucius’ words, Lilian’s satisfied aspect shifts and changes. For a moment Lucius does not recognize the woman in his arms, the bright, happy smile so transforms her face. Peeking out from behind the severe apprentice is a shadow of the quiet young woman from the now two-year-old visuals. Lucius cannot help himself, he must kiss her. As enjoyable as the kiss is, Lucius finds his insistent curiosity has harnessed desire.
Stroking Lilian’s bottom lip with one finger, Lucius encourages, “Voice how you accomplished it.”
It has been more than three months since Damien’s intrigue. Lucius is ready to discover the manner in which Lilian exacted retribution on his and her behalf.
Settling back into milord’s arms, nothing loath to satisfy milord’s curiosity, Lilian describes the downfall of Damien St. Gervais, crevasse-wallower. “As it transpired, milord, Damien was my greatest ally in his downfall . . .”
At Lilian’s request, Rebecca executed surreptitious inquiries on Damien’s accounts, careful to avoid triggering alarms or leaving identifiers. In doing so, they sacrificed the ability to prove the data’s accuracy. It mattered not. They were seeking information, not proof. Of every bribe supposedly paid to Fletcher/Lilian, half had been held back by Damien.