by E G Manetti
“He means, fondle us,” Rebecca interjects. “Not that you’ll need to worry. His Preeminence will have Master Martin’s contract if he comes within an arm’s reach of you.”
“That is a violation of stricture,” offers Lilian.
“And our choices are; complain to his mentor, which will result in his denial and our being on his mentor’s black list,” comes the quick rejoinder from Rebecca.
“Complain to the Associate Master,” Chrys continues, “which will result in his denial, his mentor’s ire and the Associate Master inconvenienced.”
Turning back toward Lilian, Chrys elaborates, “With a cartouche contract there is some protection, as there is with yours. A more junior seigneur and it is the same as with the Associate Master. Plus your seigneur is annoyed by the reminder of his or her lesser rank.”
“Surely the monitors will provide evidence to counter the denial,” Lilian challenges only to see her companions’ shaking their heads.
This time Rebecca gives the explanation, “A quick grope with no words spoken is ambiguous. The only other evidence is the protégé’s word. Apprentice testimony is not valid evidence. Worst case for Master Martin is a reprimand for inappropriate contact. Can he make an enticement indictment prove, we could face a caning.”
“So you dodge his attentions and hope he somehow manages to fall into a crevasse,” summarizes Lilian, to the nods of the other two.
“I understand why you view my success as Master Martin’s failure,” Lilian acknowledges. Mindful of milord’s will, she adds, “If you please, I prefer not to publicize this success. If for no other reason than to spare Associate Master Straus the inevitable pressure to provide Master Martin with assignments he may not be ready to perform.”
“The Associate Master is a decent one, no reason to make trouble for him,” Rebecca agrees.
“And let us not give him cause to hold back worthy assignments from apprentices to appease the arrogance of the higher ranking,” puts in Chrys.
It is astounding to Lilian how rapidly the stiffness between these two has dissolved.
»◊«
It is Sixth Day and the sixth midday. All five preceding middays spent in milord’s office at milord’s pleasure. There is no reason to expect today to differ from yesterday, except that it will. Lucius Mercio owns a perverse knack for keeping Lilian off-balance. It could be the randomness of whim. After a six days Lilian is increasingly convinced that random chance does not function within milord’s orbit.
Stepping across the scarlet threshold, Lilian steps straight into milord. Milord’s mouth captures hers in another of those breathtaking kisses as she is swept into the strong embrace. Senses reeling, Lilian is carried backwards until her back is pressed up against the scarlet door. Her feet dangling, her lower body is pressed against milord’s arousal.
Eager hands move over her torso, breasts, ribs, and waist while milord’s lower body holds her pinned. The surge of passion drawn forth by the onslaught drags a whimper from Lilian. She wraps her arms around milord’s neck and her legs around milord’s waist.
Her briefs, why must it be the briefs? The encounter that began against the scarlet door encompassed the conference table before completing on the couch. The scrap of rose silk and lace could be anywhere. Including, as it happens, dangling from milord’s finger as he reclines on the couch.
Adelaide aid me. Lilian resists the dangerous urge to bend that finger.
“My thanks, milord,” Lilian says, collecting her lingerie and retiring to milord’s freshening closet.
It lacks ten minutes to the end of the period when Lilian returns from the closet. She must speak now. “Milord, if I may?”
A lazy hand reaches out and pulls Lilian down onto the couch and into the curve of milord’s reclining torso. The same lazy hand starts to trace random patterns up and down her shoulder and arm. “I am listening.”
“I would hold it for tomorrow, but-”
“Tomorrow is Seventh Day and there is no eighth bell report.” That lazy hand ceases its motion as milord wraps his arm around Lilian’s waist and pulls her back, up against his chest. The lazy hand is back, now tracing patterns on her abdomen and ribs through her recently reordered attire.
“Yes, milord. It is the review of the Desperation Refinery. There is a wrongness to it.” The lazy hand ceases its movements.
“Continue.”
“Desperation Refinery installed a state of the art filtering system sixteen months gone. As of this sevenday, the refinery continues to pay for a sponge-based scrubbing service.”
“Fraud.” The single word contains anger and disgust. Fraud is a common challenge for the Serengeti Group, as it is for any commercial enterprise. Within the context of a cartel, it is tantamount to treason.
“I believe so milord. Although I have not confirmed it and have not identified the source.” Lilian is carefully exact in her presentation. She is certain of the facts, but not her conclusions.
Milord sits up, setting Lilian to one side, “You are not certain?” With a few quick taps to his slate, the reviewer displays a complex set of records.
“There, milord,” Lilian indicates a section of the reviewer. “The amounts are not worth the risk. It could be an error. A failure to void the old contract when the new system came on line,” Lilian explains her uncertainty.
Milord considers the data and Lilian’s explanation. “Do you think that probable?”
Lilian releases a breath she did not know she held. Milord is not angered. She has not erred, “No milord, but it is possible. Were that all, I would have waited until First Day. It is the other matter that increases my concern. Is refinery technician Simmons known to milord?”
“Why would you suggest such?” Milord is astounded. Lilian may as well have inquired if he was on a first name basis with the freshener closet attendants.
“An archive search revealed a fragment of a meeting request from Mr. Simmons dated several sevendays ago. I could discover no other records of the meeting, but I do not have access to all the pertinent files.”
“Lilian, I assure you, I would recall such a singular event as a meeting with refinery tech. Have you aught else?” Milord’s tone is impatient, his gaze quizzical.
Honor endures. Lilian was honor bound to report her discoveries. She did not expect milord to be pleased by the paucity of detail. “No, milord. It is the same refinery, two anomalies, one truly exceptional. It cannot be coincidence.”
Milord considers the reviewer, assessing, deciding. He reaches for his slate, “I believe you are correct. Lilian, I am establishing a secure endeavor for this analysis. Your access should appear in a moment.”
Snatching up her slate Lilian quickly confirms receipt.
“I am sealing this to the two of us. Report only to me,” milord states.
Chapter 5: Fraud
The Vistrite crevasse that scar Metricelli Prime, Metricelli Deuce, and Desperation in the Sixth System are deep and long. They can extend for several hundred miles and fall for dozens. The length of a crevasse is as dictated by the forces that formed the universe. The depth is the result of millennia of extraction. The technology that maintains the integrity of the planets’ crust is a ruthlessly guarded secret of the Blooded Dagger Cartouche.
The Cartel maintains barriers and monitors along the ledges of the crevasse. Despite the precautions, an occasional corpse is found due to either suicide or murder. Speculation places the count higher than the official tally. The Order of the Five Warriors holds no taboo against self-slaughter. A falling body is heavy. It can cause severe damage to the technology that operates and controls the crevasse.
Sevenday 2, Day 3
“Milord, I have reviewed the personnel records of the Cartouche and the public files. Our mysterious Mr. Simmons appears to have fallen into a crevasse.” Milord’s sharp glance indicates his displeasure with flippancy. It is not a matter for humor.
Chastised, Lilian continues her report. “Mr. Baldric Simmons wa
s born in the Sixth System fifty-one years ago. After completing a Shrine education, Mr. Simmons gave three years of service to the governor’s militia. He subsequently was employed by the refinery for thirty years with an excellent record. On the twenty-first day of the past month he failed to appear for his shift or notify his supervisor.”
“Three days after our supposed meeting,” Lucius interjects. The precise formality of Lilian’s report is the only evidence of the academic demeanor Lucius originally expected. He has begun to find it entertaining.
“Yes, milord,” Lilian replies.
Lucius releases the reviewer from his attention and savors the long length of Lilian’s legs as he attends her discourse. There is no question. Lilian’s status reports are a great deal more entertaining than Nickolas’.
Unaware of milord’s thoughts, Lilian continues, determined to demonstrate her value, “At that point all records cease. Mr. Simmons has not been encountered at his quarters. There is no record of surface or stellar transit. Nor has he executed any type of commercial or communication transaction, since that date. Two possible conclusions remain. Either Mr. Simmons has managed to hide himself away somewhere, or he is dead and his body has yet to be discovered.”
“So he may truly have fallen into a crevasse or crawled into one to hide?” Milord inquires.
The payment schedules in the mines are generous. The work is difficult and dangerous. The mines are chronically short of labor and do not examine credentials too carefully.
“Yes milord,” Lilian acknowledges milord’s conclusion.
“Lilian, make the acquaintance of Master Associate Trevelyan. I wish him to uncover Mr. Simmons activities in the sevendays prior to his disappearance and to discover him in whatever condition or crevasse he may be found. Now, what you have learned about the scrubber contract?” Milord’s clever mind is moving quickly through its agenda.
“It is definitely fraud,” Lilian’s says attempting to maintain an even demeanor under milord’s harsh regard. Milord is not displeased with me, Lilian reassures herself. Milord wishes to discover the Servants of Anarchy who have betrayed his Cartel.
Lilian’s analysis of the commercial enterprises is as thorough as it is complex. The conclusion is irrefutable, “The fraudulent contract is controlled by a security-privileged consortium in the Hebrides Ring of the Tenth System. I have not been able to penetrate the security-privilege to determine the true principals.”
“A fraud warrant will correct that for you. You may file one after we conclude,” Milord abandons the sofa to pace to the windows.
“Trevelyan will aid you with that as well,” Milord tosses over his shoulder at Lilian who remains at attention by the reviewer. “Know you, who else of Desperation is involved?”
Nodding, Lilian presents, “The contract was authorized and managed by Senior Manager Martha Sing. After each payment to the scrubber company, twenty percent was anonymously deposited to one of Mrs. Sing’s accounts. Three sevendays ago, Mrs. Sing was struck and killed by an unknown transport. Three days after the most recent scrubber payment and two days before Mr. Simmons disappearance.”
As Lilian speaks, milord abandons the windows to drop back onto the scarlet couch.
“Milord, there is more to this than simple fraud, is there not?” Lilian questions carefully. Her curiosity overcomes her fear of effrontery. The more Lilian uncovers, the more questions are revealed.
There is silence as milord drums his fingers on the couch arm rest. Milord’s gaze wanders across the array of media reports and financial data displayed on the reviewer. When Lilian arrived at eighth bell, milord was seated on the couch intent on the reviewer. After brief consideration, Lilian took position in front of milord and slightly to the left of the screen. She is able to view either milord or the reviewer as required. Now she waits.
“Disappearing techs, suddenly accident prone managers who happen to be corrupt, disappearing and reappearing commercial interests,” milord muses. Turning to Lilian he says, “You are correct, there is something more at play here. Do not file for the fraud warrant. Trevelyan is to have his operatives breach that security-privilege. On this occasion, I wish to know all the answers before asking the questions.”
“I understand, milord,” Lilian responds dutifully.
“Do you?” Milord’s gaze sharpens.
“Yes milord. ‘Beware the rocky terrain lest the warrior stumble. Beware the smooth road for it makes the warrior careless. Beware the unexpected terrain; fertile where it should be arid, plain where it should be wasteland. Snares are present,’” Lilian recites.
“The Fourth Warrior’s Canon, the Adelaide Warleader Quintet,” Milord acknowledges the reference.
»◊«
“This is well done, Mistress Lilian. I discover only one flaw.” Master Nickolas speaks as Lilian stands by his desk. Both associates reference slate and reviewer.
“A flaw, Master Nickolas? I beg, show me where I have erred.” A mistake? She confirmed those calculations thrice. What has she missed?
“Here is the Vistrite consumption rate as I calculated it earlier this sevenday. Your result is slightly different at the seventh decimal.”
“A moment please, Master Nickolas,” Lilian requests. With a quick tap to her slate the data on the reviewer shifts. “There, the most recent quarter results became available yesterday before I ran my calculations. The underlying data has shifted slightly, that is why the results disagree.”
“Mistress Lilian, you are correct,” Nickolas admits, a slight edge entering his voice.
Oh no. She has erred again. She should not have proven the protégé wrong. Nickolas is Conservator of Desperation, as he is of a dozen other of milord’s holdings. Does Nickolas will it, her effrontery could see Lilian flogged.
Nickolas does not shift his eyes from his console. He avoids gazing upon her whenever possible. “These reports are your responsibility from this moment forward,”
“My thanks, Master Nickolas,” Lilian returns carefully. She has offended the disdainful protégé. He should be abusing her. Why has he entrusted her with the reports? This is well ahead of the training schedule. She dares not inquire.
“You may go,” Nickolas frowns and motions her dismissal.
Hastening to her worksite, Lilian attempts to unravel Nickolas’ response. She has embarrassed him, challenged his skill as conservator. He should be angry. Petulant. Instead he honored her by an important Vistrite assignment. A trap?
Sevenday 2, Day 4
With a definitive thump, Lilian lands bottom first on the hard stones of the courtyard. Lying back, Lilian gazes upwards through the open roof to view the last vestiges of a pink dawn fade from the morning sky. Stone training chambers are singularly unforgiving.
The courtyard columns and arches support the crevasse stone structure as it rises three storeys to the open sky. Between the columns are stone shelves that once held planters filled with statuary and vibrant flowers. The fountain is silent and barren where once it held water plants and exotic fish.
Surrounded by sealed and denuded reception chambers, the courtyard terminates at the far wall of the house. Beyond the wall are the gardens. When Lilian was a child, at this time of year, the panels were continually recessed. It was difficult to determine where the courtyard yielded to the gardens.
The panels are sealed tight. A small door opens to a covered walkway that leads to the kitchen and the herb garden. The ornamental gardens are abandoned and run wild. Only a fraction of the herb garden is cultivated. As the dry season develops, fresh herbs will increase in price. When the rains arrive, the cost will exceed the household’s slender means.
The second and third stories hold the family’s private quarters and guest chambers. Each has a balcony open to the courtyard. The fourth level has smaller windows and lacks terraces. These are the chambers for servitors and storage.
Currently, three of the chambers on the second storey are in use. They contain the household’s few bits of furnitu
re and the personal effects of the three who reside here.
The windows on the main storey are covered by heavy security shutters. After the ruin, open windows encouraged vandalism. Later, when there was little left to vandalize, open windows encouraged rocks and other, often foul, projectiles.
A quiet step accompanies the cause of Lilian’s distraction and ignominious fall. The face of Lilian’s eleven-year old sister blocks the sky. Bright red-gold curls top an elfin face with wide black eyes. The dark eyes are a throwback to some unknown ancestor. Lilian’s gray eyes are those of her mother. Gariten’s eyes were blue.
Lilian’s heart lurches with familiar joy at the sight of the sunny countenance. It has been so since Katleen’s birth. More recently, Lilian has noted with pleasure that Katleen is devoid of any reflection of Remus Gariten.
“I beg pardon Lilian, I did not intend make you tumble,” Katleen’s voice is contrite.
“It was my own inattention that caused my fall,” Lilian reassures her sister. “I should not have allowed my focus to shift. Confronting a true foe, and not shadows, I would have much worse than a bruised bottom to concern me,”
Pulling into a seated posture and wrapping her arms around her knees Lilian inquires, “What do you here at this bell? It lacks thirty minutes to your usual waking.”
Lilian is glad for her sister’s company. She will not have the growing child sleep deprived.
Dropping down next to Lilian, Katleen replies, “I have not seen you since Seventh Day. You depart so early and return so late. Is it well with you at the Cartel?”
“All is well, sweetling. It is only that there is a great deal of work and it requires time. You know that the bond payments provide the funds for our food and your school fees. I cannot shirk the work. That is no manner in which to prove my bond.”
“I understand, but sometimes I miss you,” the voice is wistful.
“Has maman been difficult these past days?” Lilian inquires with sudden concern.
“No, for truth, she has been quite serene,” Katleen responds quickly. “I am so glad she has ceased raving about the Lord of Darkness stealing you into the pit. Now she is painting the woodlands and it is much nicer.”