by E G Manetti
»◊«
Delayed by the detour caused by Patrick and his friends, Lilian barely halts to add a loose tunic to her racing attire. It has become Lilian’s and Katleen’s practice to execute their marketing as soon as the stalls are open. Their intent is to complete their purchases well before mid-morning.
Early in the morning on Seventh Day, the other shoppers are either servitors or visitors and tourists. Few will recognize or care about the tainted offspring of Remus Gariten.
Lilian was startled, and then relieved, to discover Katleen on easy terms with some of the vendors, stall holders, and shop keepers of the open market. In the days before the scandal, Katleen had tagged along with the cook on his market expeditions.
The finest merchants will not serve them at all, fearing loss of custom. It is not an unfounded concern. When Lilian first returned home, a number of stalls and shops emptied of customers upon Lilian’s entrance.
Others, less prestigious but known to Katleen, are willing to supply the small household as long as Katleen and Lilian act with discretion. The arrangement allows Lilian and Katleen to complete their marketing before the composition of the crowd changes. It assures the merchants that their questionable customers will not be noted.
Weighted by the goods required for the next sevenday, Lilian and Katleen move at a slow pace through the increasing throng. Eyeing the growing crowds with concern, Lilian positions Katleen on the inside of the sidewalk where the young girl is protected by the buildings. Spoken insult does not concern Lilian. Jostling and spitting are far too common. With only two blocks left to traverse, today’s insult remains mild. Not even rude comments, only pointed avoidance.
As the two reach the corner, the way is blocked by a group of men barely of majority age. Judging by the rackets and hard rubber balls they carry, they are returning from the Garden Center. Laughing and crowding the walkway, the group starts past. Suddenly recognizing Lilian, one man lashes out with his racket, “Out of the way, slut.”
Even burdened with the weight of her satchels Lilian is able to dodge the clumsy blow. Using her momentum Lilian drops her bags and employs her hips to push Katleen further to her back.
As the young man attempts to swing the racket again, it is caught by one of his companions. “Leave it you fool. She is Lucius Mercio’s property.”
This day. You must not. I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian reaches for control and submerges her rising emotion with resolve as she watches their assailants disappear into the crowd.
“Lilian,” at Katleen’s tug on her tunic sleeve, Lilian releases her focus on the retreating men.
Grasping Katleen’s shoulders, Lilian demands, “Are you well, my sister?”
Katleen gives a snort as she replies, “I am fine. If we do not hasten, the perishables will not be.”
“Then we must hasten,” Lilian forces a smile. “Come along. Double time, it is only a block.”
»◊«
Six bells later Lilian completes the last of the household maintenance tasks. As she gathers her bucket and cleansing articles Lilian evaluates the exterior of Katleen’s house. The vulgar and scurrilous renderings have been removed. They will return within days. Were it but Lilian, she would leave them and let the neighbors enjoy the vandalism. With a little Luck of the First, or even the Second, the adjoining properties would soon be similarly defaced.
Lilian cannot. It is her sister’s house and the household of Sinead’s Seer. They will not be shamed. She does not relish the prospect of executing this activity when the heat of the deep dry season is upon them or in the deluge of the rainy season. It is a care for another day. Shoulders squared, Lilian mounts the stairs to the main entrance.
The household kitchen adjoins the herb garden. The precious plants are healthy, weed free and well watered. Entering the kitchen, Lilian finds Katleen as expected. She is working her lessons on her slate while keeping an eye on the incomprehensible food preparation device.
After dumping the dirty water and stowing her supplies, Lilian grabs a glass of water and settles next to Katleen. Not a lesson, Katleen is enjoying her latest lurid entertainment. Placing a spread hand between Katleen and her slate, Lilian demands, “Have you completed your studies?”
“Yes, Lilian,” Katleen replies with a long suffering tone and rolled eyes.
Lilian ignores the discourtesy and insists, “Show me.”
The review is brief. Katleen owns lamentable taste in entertainment. She does not neglect her studies.
“Well done,” Lilian acknowledges as she rises and teases Katleen’s curls. “Can you manage for a quarter period while I cleanse?”
Katleen mumbles agreement as she returns her attention to her entertainment.
Twenty minutes later, rinsed of the soil of her exertions, Lilian returns to the kitchen. Sixth bell approaches rapidly. Maman will be returning from the Shrine. “Katleen, what do you require?”
Setting aside her slate, Katleen rises and advances on the demon devised device that provides meals. “Set the table if you please, Lilian. Then chop the herbs and vegetables for the salad.”
As Lilian distributes the last of the Sixth Day wine among three mismatched glasses, the kitchen chime sounds an entrance alert.
“Lilian, you must go,” Katleen insists as she carefully pulls the fish from the oven.
Abandoning her task, Lilian hastens to the house to meet Helena Faesetili, Sinead’s Seer, maman.
Garbed in Sinead’s peridot and silver, Helena’s physical resemblance to Lilian is evident. The same trim the athleticism marks them both. Helena’s hair is lighter, a true auburn, and her skin paler with a soft dusting of freckles across her cheekbones. The gray eyes are the same. Recently past her forty-eighth year and with reasonable expectation of one-hundred-twenty years, Helena Faesetili is barely past first youth.
“Maman, how fare you?” Lilian asks delicately as she nods acknowledgement at the Shrine acolytes who provided Helena’s escort. Duty discharged, the acolytes nod in return and exit.
“Well enough, daughter,” Helena responds. “I am famished. Aid me with my vestments.”
It is a familiar task to pull the belts, wrap and tunic from Helena. Lilian carefully folds the silks and brocades and lays them on a stone bench. Free of her vestments, Helena is garbed in thin leggings and a sleeveless tunic that mirror Lilian’s.
Delighted at Helena’s composure and lucidity, Lilian follows her mother into the kitchen. Katleen has grappled the fish onto the table next to the greens and added a small loaf of brown bread. At Lilian’s lowered gaze, Katleen fills her wine glass with the water she was pouring into Helena’s and Lilian’s tumblers. Having passed her tenth year, Katleen may have watered wine on Seventh Day. Lilian is careful that it is more water than wine.
After maman calls on the favor of the Shades, all three dive into the meal. Fish is a favorite and only enjoyed on Seventh Day when Lilian has liberty to attend the market. Under no circumstances will Lilian permit Katleen to wander the Garden District unescorted. It is worry enough that the young girl makes the brief walk to and from her school.
As her hungry belly mellows under a full meal, Lilian inquires, “So Katleen, what is the latest in lurid entertainment? You were riveted.”
Gulping the last of her heavily watered wine, Katleen smiles, “Lilian, you will enjoy this. It is all about a lost society hiding in the Crevasse. It predates the Anarchy. They worship strange gods and have the oddest customs. Did you know there are lakes and rivers and orchards in the deep? That’s how it is named, The Deep.”
For a moment it is contest. Will Lilian’s wine find her belly or her nasal passages? Legends of the Crevasse are millennia old, myriad and beyond creative. Katleen’s version is so fantastical that it has Lilian shuddering to control derision.
“‘That is’, Katleen, not ‘that’s’,” the Seer gently corrects, “Contractions are common.”
By sheer force of will, Lilian pushes the wine into her belly and away from her n
ose. Choking, she responds, “Katleen, with the exception of Vistrite, the crevasse are barren. Whatever forces formed the Vistrite, they pulled all life from the fissures in the process. Do you desire water or food within the crevasse, a Blooded Dagger conduit provides it.”
At Katleen’s crestfallen expression, Lilian regrets her open contempt, “Sweetling, there are caves and caverns throughout the Twelve Systems that display the wonders you discuss. They do not contain Vistrite.”
“The Abyss beckons. The darkness cannot hunt what it does not recognize,” Helena intones in a sing song voice that both Lilian and Katleen recognize.
Abandoning their interest in Katleen’s entertainment, the sisters exchange a desperate glance. Maman is overset.
“The Abyss. Lilian, the Abyss. You must hide,” Helena is becoming frantic. Her dinner plate crashes to the floor and shatters as Lilian and Katleen spring from their seats.
“The Guardian. It must be the Guardian.” Helena’s gaze is vacant. She is lost in her inner turmoil. Helena rises out of her seat, stumbling towards the door.
Lilian reaches her mother and grasps her shoulders, “Maman. Enough. He is dead. The Second Warrior tortures him as we speak.”
“Rimon,” Helena relaxes in Lilian’s grip. “Yes, Rimon. It will be well. Rimon and Sinead have long been allies.”
Katleen offers Lilian a relieved smile. As Helena’s prophetic interludes go, this one has been mild. There is no knowing what set her off. Both Katleen and Lilian are well aware of the source of Helena’s distress. The Seer has prophesied about the Lord of the Abyss stealing Lilian into torment for months, well before Remus Gariten’s disgrace. Both sisters are certain Helena refers to their unlamented sire and his near destruction of Lilian.
“Katleen, I am weary,” Helena shrugs off Lilian’s restraining hold. “I would have you play for me so that I might sleep.”
“Of course, maman,” Katleen replies and follows Helena from the kitchen.
Accompanied by the haunting sound of pipes, Lilian sets about reordering the kitchen. A period later, the leftovers from the meal are secured in the foodkeeper and the dishes cleansed and stored. The pipes are silent.
Lilian mounts the stairs to the second storey and carefully recesses the door to the Seer’s chamber. The room is dark but for the light from two of Metricelli Prime’s three moons that shines through the courtyard opening. Helena is hard asleep.
Katleen is awake and focused on her slate. At Lilian’s arrival, Katleen sets it aside and sits up in bed. “I do not understand. Gariten is dead. Why is maman so overset?”
Lilian settles next to Katleen and pulls her close. This is difficult. What to reveal? What to hide? “Piracy, fraud, decadents dealing, illegal servitude, lotteries, Gariten was guilty of every crime of which he was convicted.”
“I know this Lilian,” Katleen impatiently insists.
“Do you sweetling?” Lilian gently presses.
“Well piracy is another name for hijacking, only it happens in the beaconed expanse,” Katleen offers.
Stellar transit is dependent on communication and navigation markers known as beacons which make it possible to travel in the vast expanse between stars.
“What happens to the drivers of hijacked transports?” Lilian pushes.
“They are killed if they resist, ransomed if they don’t,” Katleen returns. She knows Lilian is leading her.
“In the beaconed expanse, it requires at least a score of crew to transport basics. Perishable cargo and human cargo require a great deal more,” Lilian explains. This is ugly. It cannot be hidden.
“He killed them all,” Katleen whispers in horror. “Crew, passengers, everyone. To conceal his crimes.”
“Yes, he did,” Lilian confirms, swallowing the nausea that rises with discussion of her sire.
The fraud alone would have seen Gariten executed and his property forfeited. The other crimes are so heinous they had half the Twelve Systems screaming for Lilian’s blood. Shade-ridden, Helena could not be indicted. Katleen was protected by her youth. Minors are not executed for blood taint.
Had Katleen not existed, nothing would have saved Lilian. No consideration of relative guilt or justice would have offset the benefit of eliminating Gariten’s corrupt genetics from the Twelve Systems.
“Maman knew,” Katleen turns and clings to Lilian as she accepts what she would deny. “It is why she is so easily overset. She cannot bear the knowledge and she could not change anything.”
Hugging Katleen close, Lilian admits, “So I believe.”
“Stay with me tonight,” Katleen pleads.
“Until, you sleep,” Lilian agrees sliding under the coverlet. Bonded to Monsignor Lucius, Lilian is to sleep alone. She treads the edge of the crevasse with this concession. It matters naught. Does milord discover this and indict, Lilian will pay the penalty.
Chapter 7: Scoring
The population of the Twelve Systems nears fifty billion. Of those, only two tenths of a percent, one hundred million claim warrior status. Among the warriors, only one in a hundred claims a seigneur’s gold signet. Once attained, the signet is hereditary. It can be passed to only one heir. All others must acquire the support of a cartouche that will endorse the signet and provide the license fee.
The Preeminence of a cartouche controls a platinum signet and can license any warrior deemed worthy. Only one percent of all signets are platinum. Ten thousand warriors control the wealth of the Twelve Systems and its inhabitants. Of those, a mere one hundred control the twenty strongest commercial interests. Seventeen control the five most important Cartels. As Preeminence of Serengeti, the fourth most prominent Cartel, Lucius Mercio is out ranked by no more than a score of warriors including prelates and governors. When he realizes Serengeti’s claim on third position, that number will drop to a dozen.
By custom, the offspring of the Cartouche Preeminence are granted a gold signet when they reach their twenty-fourth year. When Remus Gariten established the short-lived Grey Gyre cartouche, he guaranteed both his offspring a signet. As heir, Lilian would one day have claimed a platinum signet.
Within the cartels and other commercial enterprises, the Master Associates are equivalent in rank and income to junior seigneurs. Among the warriors who lack a signet, a Master Associate position provides the best opportunity to acquire one. Among the common orders, it provides the opportunity to position their offspring for alliances with warriors.
The more substantial the enterprise, the greater is the opportunity for commoners to rise through skill and dedication. To apprentice at one of the ten dominant cartels is to provide generations of descendants with the opportunity for advancement. Among the poorest inhabitants of the Twelve Systems, only the most gifted and determined achieve apprenticeship. It is a significant accomplishment.
Sevenday 3, Day 1
Lilian enters the empty riser carriage ten minutes before eighth bell. As the doors start to close, a man bounds aboard and selects the thirtieth story.
It is Master Martin. This is ill.
With a smirk, the young warrior requests every storey on the riser control. It is a malicious act, but one that can do little harm. There are only seven stops between Lilian and the scarlet door. As the doors open at the twenty-ninth storey, the smirking man casually leans over and presses the hold control.
After several long minutes, the riser begins to chime insistently forcing Martin to release the control. Lilian waits until the doors are almost recessed before dodging through them. The spiteful protégé is unable to follow. Only four minutes until eighth bell.
The second chime has rung as Lilian enters the suite. Thirty-fifth stricture. Lilian reduces her pace to a rapid walk as she passes Mistress Marieth who raises a disapproving eyebrow. The sixth of the eight chimes sounds as she crosses the scarlet threshold, breath coming quickly. Slowing to a decorous pace, Lilian reaches milord’s desk as the final chime fades. She is aware of dampness under her clothes from her exertion. She is certain her face
is flushed. She is not late. There can be no question she was forced to haste.
From behind his desk, milord regards her with censure. “Lilian, how came it that you were in Master Martin’s office some days gone?”
What? Her gray eyes widen slightly in startlement. Lilian expected censure, but not for that cause. Focus. Respond. Honor endures. Lilian draws a sharp breath, “Milord, Master Martin wished aid with some of the training interrogatives.”
Lucius is annoyed, but not surprised by Lilian’s response. He expected her to trade on her brilliance for protection. Another highly placed protégé could do much to reduce the insult she faces. It is aid he may not permit. He has enough difficulties with the Grey Spear Monsignor without having to concern himself with alliances of this nature. Lucius snaps, “Did you provide the aid?”
“No milord, Master Martin altered his design.” For a moment there is a hint of emotion in the reserved woman.
Satisfaction? Lucius’ curiosity sparks. She should not be pleased at her failure to gain aid. It matters not. The association cannot continue. Were it not a direct challenge to the other governor, Lucius would forbid his apprentice all contact with the protégé. She must develop her allies elsewhere. “You are not to be alone with Master Martin again. You are to avoid all contact to the extent possible.”
At Lucius’ words, Lilian’s countenance lightens. His order has not distressed her as it should have. Lilian’s reaction to that which distresses her is to close down, becoming more reserved and stoic. Her reply is even more startling. It is not a carefully correct acknowledgement of authority but a heartfelt commitment.
“Yes milord, my thanks, milord.”