by E G Manetti
Sevenday 46, Day 4
“Rebecca, it is time.” Lilian pushes encouragement into her voice as she calls across the walkway to Rebecca.
With a shallow nod in response to Lilian’s call, Rebecca seals her worksite and collects her satchel. Squaring her shoulders and locking her spine in unconscious imitation of Lilian, Rebecca gathers her slate satchel and rises.
This is not well, Lilian thinks. Rebecca has become increasingly withdrawn as the day progressed. For certain, Rebecca is dwelling on her fate should Damocles succeed in his challenge. Lilian likes it not. Instead of teasing and misspeaking the ranked, her friend could be a lifeless doll for all she yields.
Doll. Puppet. You are meant to fly free. Helena’s words on meeting Rebecca echo in Lilian’s mind. Not for the first time, Lilian wonders how Helena could possibly have known that Rebecca would become a Raven.
Lilian tightens her grip on her slate satchel to resist the urge to gather Rebecca into a forbidden embrace. “Rebecca, have no concern. The odds favor Seigneur Trevelyan by fourteen point three five seven to one.”
“Fourteen point three five seven to one,” Rebecca chokes, amusement cracking her concern. It is amusement echoed by a snort from one of the Grim Twins. “Lilian, only you would carry such a calculation to three decimals.”
“I wager she executed the calculation without the aid of her slate.” Chrys grins from the corridor where he awaits his fellow Ravens. With the ownership of her bond challenged, Rebecca may not accompany Trevelyan to the trial, but she will not walk alone.
As Lilian and Rebecca pass the Grim Twins, they rise as well. The male associate’s lips are twitching wildly. He must be the source of the snort. Spearing her companion with a gimlet gaze, the female Grim Twin opens her mouth even as her companion speaks, “Kindness, you are to walk with us.”
As the female twin turns on the male, blood in her eyes, Lilian fails to contain a brief gasp of laughter. At the shocking sound, both Chrys and Rebecca turn to Lilian, mouths open.
Choking slightly, Lilian manages, “A flock of ravens is a ‘kindness of ravens.’ ”
At Chrys’ and Rebecca’s confused glances, Lilian continues, pleased to be the one offering education for a change. “Three. It requires a minimum of three ravens to constitute a ‘kindness.’ ”
“Kindness, truly?” Chrys begins. “That seems—”
“The exact opposite of what Blooded Dagger Ravens offer to Cartouche foes,” the female Grim Twin snaps. “Attend us.”
Without another word or gesture, all three apprentices come to attention and obediently follow the Grim Twins.
Trevelyan’s operatives. Lilian has suspected it for some time, but now she is certain. Milord protects his property and Seigneur Trevelyan will protect his. The three Ravens will arrive for the match unhindered.
Within the shadow of the senior associates, the apprentices enter the risers. The half-full carriage does not stop on its descent to the training chambers. Lilian is certain the female Grim Twin used an override code when they entered the carriage. The Grim Twins are more highly ranked than is publicly acknowledged or than Lilian realized.
Stepping from the carriage, Lilian notes the other carriages rapidly disgorging the unranked hoping for a place in the center of the training facility. The large training chamber where the match will occur is reserved for the ranked members of Serengeti. With a small shake of her head, Lilian comments, “Chrys had the right of it. Without the protégés, we would be forced into the corridor.”
Lucius briefly considered ordering Lilian to her worksite for the bout. In the turmoil bound to surround the match, anonymous assault would be all too easy. Rachelle’s suggestion that their apprentices would be safest with the protégés was a welcome one.
As they follow the Grim Twins into the corridor, Rebecca’s fingers whiten on the strap of her slate satchel. “Fourteen p-point . . . what was it?”
Had Seigneur Damocles belted me, I would not sit until Fourth Day. Rebecca’s words return to Lilian. Should Damocles’ succeed, Rebecca’s lot might prove no more enviable than Tabitha’s. I am the sum of my ancestors.
Odd, Chrys thinks. Lilian’s eyes are so pale as to be clear. Her lips are moving, but he cannot hear her words over the din in the crowded corridor.
“Certainty, Rebecca,” Lilian announces, her eyes fathomless gray. “It is a certainty that Seigneur Trevelyan will triumph.”
With the aid of the Grim Twins, they have reached the entrance to the training facility. “Certainty, Lilian? Truly?” Rebecca asks with a hint of desperation. “Seigneur so voiced, but Seigneur Damocles can be c-crafty.”
Cruel. Rebecca meant cruel when she voiced crafty. Knowing how Rebecca detested her academic mentor and how remorselessly Dean Rupert exploited the lovely blonde, Lilian has no difficulty in understanding how fear of returning to that desperate state has overwhelmed Rebecca’s intellect. The tightening of Chrys’ lips confirms he holds the same conclusion about Rebecca’s intent with the term ‘crafty’ and her fear.
I am the foundation of my family. The odds are all but certain. Honor is my blade and shield. Unless it is a corrupt pool. Honor knows not fear. Rebecca must not falter among the ranked. Honor endures. For all our sakes, let it be true. Adelaide, do not let me be foresworn. “Truly, Rebecca.”
The Grim Twins have successfully forced a passage to the entrance of the match chamber where Seigneur Thorvald waits, his arms crossed over his chest. With a cold glance at Lilian, Thorvald dismisses Rebecca’s escort and shepherds Rebecca into the chamber. As she turns away, Lilian’s sharp ears catch Thorvald’s quiet “Peace, Rebecca, even I cannot tumble Trevelyan.”
This day. I am the sum of my ancestors. Throat tightening, Lilian swallows her hurt at the open disgust in the brief glance Seigneur Thorvald yielded to her tainted presence. Lilian’s admiration for the terrifying soldier has increased with every encounter.
“Mistress Lilian!” Nickolas hails. A moment later, Irina calls, “Master Chrys!”
The protégés are in a sectioned area at the far end of the glass panel that reveals the match chamber. At the protégés’ commands, Lilian and Chrys squeeze into the rapidly filling section. Both Ravens will be within Rebecca’s gaze does she look toward the window.
Within the large training chamber, the traditional twelve-foot match square is cordoned off. A small raised dais is set to the right of the match square, near the back wall. With Thorvald’s encouragement, Rebecca mounts the dais and faces the chamber, the glass wall, and the rapidly growing crowd. Pale to her lips, she is a beautiful study in onyx and pearl. Win the match, take the woman.
»◊«
In the seigneurs’ changing chambers, Trevelyan pulls on his half-boots and rises, spreading his arms to permit his companions to apply fragrant nut oil.
“Drop Damocles no sooner than ten minutes and within twenty if you would enrich Blooded Dagger at Grey Spear expense.” Lucius works oil into Trevelyan’s right pectoral and Socraide’s Sunburst. As a warrior, Trevelyan’s seconds must also be warriors. It is a mark of both Lucius’ favor and the importance of the match to Blooded Dagger honor that His Preeminence participates in the ritual, along with the important Vistrite seigneur.
Acceptance of Lucius’ signet and warrior status required that Trevelyan embrace the warrior rites in form, if not conviction. His choice of the First Warrior was born of Trevelyan’s allegiance to Lucius rather than faith. The prior seventh day, Trevelyan felt only mild amusement at his participation in what he once termed a ‘barbaric blood ritual.’ Today, Trevelyan is far from amused. His glower could blister Vistrite.
“Seventeen minutes would be optimum,” Solomon grins as he works oil into Trevelyan’s back, oblivious of the spymaster’s scowl. Grey Spear has been profligate in backing Damocles, and the most lucrative wagers for Blooded Dagger are those where Damocles survives ten minutes in the match square but no more than twenty.
“I could have it done in three,” Trevelyan replie
s with an edge. He does not exaggerate. The fearsome Thorvald is well skilled but lacks Trevelyan’s reach. Within the Cartel, none other than Lucius has ever given Trevelyan a fall, and those matches were for sport.
There is nothing entertaining about battling for a woman as if she were an object. A young woman with a bright, irreverent spirit Trevelyan has come to admire and which was appallingly lacking at eighth bell. Given her history with that rodent Damocles, Rebecca’s distress was not unfounded. It will soon end. This will not take long.
“Trevelyan?” Lucius questions mildly, his hands shifting to Trevelyan’s ribcage. Lucius expected his champion to offer his free-trader smile in response to the wagering.
“It is naught.” Trevelyan shakes his head in an attempt to dispel his foul humor. He has no objection to the wagering, only the timing. “I wish this finished. I planned to flatten Damocles in three blows and be done with it.”
Lucius and Solomon briefly pause and exchange a glance. At Lucius’ nod, Solomon works Trevelyan’s left arm while Lucius claims Trevelyan’s right.
“It is time Grey Spear reconsidered his relentless assault on Blooded Dagger,” Solomon explains with a deceptively sweet smile. “And let us not forget, Blooded Dagger owes Grey Spear a training-chamber beating.”
Lilian. Brutally assaulted by Martin, she yielded neither her esoteric blade nor Blooded Dagger honor. Lightly touching his fingers to his five-day-old mark of Socraide, Trevelyan nods. The Universe strives for balance and the Five Warriors dislike gateways to anarchy. Offering Solomon and Lucius his free-trader smile, Trevelyan agrees. “Blooded Dagger honors its debts.”
»◊«
The match chamber is filled past capacity with the ranked members of Serengeti. The central chamber beyond has overflowed into the corridors. At the far end of the match chamber, Rebecca stands resolute. Her shoulders are squared, her spine straight and eyes forward. She is so pale she could be carved from ice.
Demon shit! Trevelyan cares not for Rebecca’s appearance. Does she fear Damocles so greatly? Trevelyan is not offended that his new apprentice lacks faith in his abilities. He is far more concerned by her distress. Now she must suffer a little longer.
Trevelyan halts silently when he reaches Rebecca. Turning his head, he follows her fixed gaze into the crowd and then beyond the glass into the throng where Lilian and Chrys stand. His Raven lacks not allies.
Turning back to his apprentice, Trevelyan places his lips near her ear as he sends a forefinger lightly along the side of Rebecca’s throat, comforting without the slightest hint of the erotic. “Keep count, my Raven. Broken ribs, shoulder, and one arm, as I recall it.”
To the observers, it appears that Trevelyan taunts his rival with the intimate contact.
For Rebecca, it is all she can do to contain a laugh at the promise implicit in her seigneur’s inventory of Martin’s damage to Lilian.
Pleased by Rebecca’s swallowed laughter, Trevelyan represses a grin as he adds, “And interest due for a certain belting, of course.”
Leaving a choking Rebecca in his wake, Trevelyan enters the square. From the corner of his eye, he checks on his apprentice. Her lips are tinged with pink, as are her cheeks. The haunted look is gone from her eyes.
As the claimant, Seigneur Damocles determines the combat form. He chooses short swords. Two hundred years earlier, they would have been live blades. Only the victor would have left combat alive, so seriously were rank challenges perceived. In these modern, civilized times, training swords are used. Lead pipe in the place of honed steel.
Serengeti claims one-hundred-fifty-three ranked members. Of these, sixty-four are located in the Crevasse City headquarters, sixty-one seigneurs and three monsignors. It is a good-sized cartel. It does not yet rival the Matahorn Alliance with its two-hundred-seventeen ranked members.
As a Cartel apprentice, Rebecca agreed to provide carnal service to any of the ranked who requested it within the bells set aside for such activity. Of the sixty-four Crevasse City ranked, forty-one are men. Of those, all but seven have enjoyed the prize. Lucius and Trevelyan are among those few who have not taken their pleasure with Rebecca. Of the other five, four do not favor women and one is newly wedlocked and enamored of his spouse. Of the female seigneurs, three favor women. Rebecca has attended all three.
Viewing the gathered crowd, Trevelyan executes the math. Of the sixty-two ranked witnesses, over half have exercised their right to use his apprentice as a convenience. Already enraged by Rebecca’s distress and recall of Lilian’s abuse, Trevelyan regards the elite crowd. They have treated the talented and lovely Rebecca as a commodity. Some of them, like Damocles, would use her remorselessly in degrading and petty status games. The Universalist speaks, enough. The warrior acts.
Seventeen minutes elapse before Damocles topples to the mat, unable to rise. Trevelyan could have executed the bout in half that time. The Universalist-turned-warrior breaks two of Damocles’ teeth, his right shoulder, left arm, three ribs, and nose. Trevelyan finishes with a blow to Damocles’ crown that cracks bone and sends his challenger into gray space for two days.
All in witness are certain that Damocles lives because in these modern, civilized times, Trevelyan is not permitted to slay him. Trevelyan pays for his victory with a split lip, a welt on his jaw from a glancing blow, and another one on his left thigh.
Outside the chamber, Nickolas, Irina, and Fletcher congratulate each other on their successful wagers. Lilian and Chrys exchange a brief, relieved smile at the knowledge that the Grey Spear wagering had its origins in nothing more nefarious than cartouche pride.
Trevelyan cares for naught but Rebecca’s bright, irreverent smile.
25. Wagers and Traitors
The thirty-six strictures of Serengeti’s Apprentice Protocol include the twenty-seven of the Governing Council and an additional nine specific to Serengeti. These strictures regulate almost every aspect the bonded’s behavior.
The four obligations for the bondholder dictated by the Governing Council have not been enhanced with additional regulation. First, the indentured may not be permanently injured by correction except when specifically permitted by governing protocol. Second, the indentured must be given reasonable opportunity to discharge the bond. Third, the indentured may not be actively hindered in the completion of the bond. Fourth, upon completion of bond terms, the owner must render all outstanding consideration or provide just cause as to why the bond proof should be denied. ~ excerpt from Apprentice Protocol and Stricture, Serengeti Archives.
Sevenday 46, Day 5
At Trevelyan’s gesture, Lilian takes a seat at the four-person conference table. In the absence of a glass panel, in deference to milord, the office door is open.
Lilian’s warrior upbringing briefly wars with the apprentice protocols. Her internal warrior wishes to acknowledge both Trevelyan’s elevation and his prior day’s triumph over Damocles. As an apprentice, it is effrontery. As apprentice, she wishes to offer gratitude for the new warrior’s care of Rebecca. It borders on defamation to suggest Seigneur Trevelyan might behave otherwise.
In the end, she can do naught but yield the courtesy of third-person address. “Seigneur Trevelyan, my thanks for the indulgence. I have found something of interest in Mistress Tabitha’s achievement record.”
Well aware of Lilian’s internal struggle, Trevelyan releases his discomfort at the formal address, knowing it for an accolade. Truly, it is of little moment. Whatever has brought the reserved young woman to him has her radiating intensity. Trevelyan is about to learn something very interesting indeed.
“With the seigneur’s permission?” At Trevelyan’s nod, Lilian taps a quick command and turns her slate so that Trevelyan can behold the viewer.
“It is a trend analysis,” Trevelyan acknowledges. “Explain.”
“This pictorial shows the skill level of Mistress Tabitha’s assignments over time. The green dots are level one, the blue level two, and the yellow level three. Seigneur may note that within a se
venday or so of level three, activity suddenly ceases and commences again at level one a few days later. Note also that over the months, the data groupings become shorter. The climb to level three requires one or two sevendays, not months.”
At Trevelyan’s nod, Lilian concludes, “This is Mistress Tabitha’s assignment history. It displays all her assignments, not only the completed ones.”
“Her capabilities exceed the record of her accomplishments,” Trevelyan states quietly as his gut clenches. The direction of Lilian’s analysis is unmistakable.
With a quick tap, Lilian overlays the analysis with a series of red dashes. “The red dashes represent the dates that Mistress Tabitha was on restricted duty.”
Lilian says no more, letting the data present the accusation. Monsignor Sebastian has not been indifferent to Tabitha’s commerce development after all. He has systematically sabotaged it. As soon as Tabitha showed promise of breaking out of entry-level work, she ended up on restricted duty, unable to complete the assignments.
Trevelyan does not speak for several moments. Every thought is profane. Universe scatter him. Vile offspring of a crevasse-wallower. Excrement-eating swamp beetle. Child-abusing Servant of Anarchy.
Lilian sits quietly. Where milord’s rage is a tsunami, Trevelyan’s is a fiery forge looking to escape its pit.
Gathering control of his wrath, Trevelyan is able to bank the flame and return it to its chamber. A lingering spark reaches out and recognizes kindred. The normally bright gray eyes have darkness in them. Lilian’s anger is as cold as the floor of the Crevasse. With a snarl, Trevelyan speaks, “He interfered in her bond proof.”
The bondholder strictures are broadly written. Even so, Sebastian Mehta is in clear violation of his obligation to Mistress Tabitha. Neglect is one matter, and common. Active hindrance is forbidden.
“As the seigneur voices,” Lilian agrees. “If I may know, will the seigneur indict?”
Indict Sebastian Mehta for bond interference? For a moment, Trevelyan savors the shame the despotic governor would endure should the indictment prove. It is a fleeting fancy. It will not serve. “Nay, Mistress Lilian. For such an indictment to prove, only Monsignor Lucius owns sufficient rank, and with all that is in play, it would not be wise.”