The Cartel

by E G Manetti

  With ninth bell approaching, the normally crowded training chambers are almost deserted. A few associates are using the auto-racers and strengthening devices while a late class in Socraide’s Discipline is underway in one of the large training salons. Working their way through the complex, the two young women claim a small bout chamber. Mindful of the large interior window, they discard their jackets and shoes, retaining skirts and blouses. Lilian considers Rebecca’s slender stiletto heels with the delicate ankle strap. “Rebecca, more practical footwear would give you better stability and improved speed.”

  Dangling her questionable shoes, Rebecca shoots a derisive glance at Lilian’s decorous pumps, “I prefer impractical and alluring to serviceable. Besides, we don’t all have your length of leg.”

  Shaking her head at Rebecca’s vanity Lilian rises followed by Rebecca.

  “You cannot use the most effective moves,” Lilian begins, pacing the chamber. “You may not break his instep, or use your head to break his nose. Although with the height difference, it would be a split lip. Nonetheless, blood is blood. Should you draw his, it will go ill for you. Should you grab his sack and twist, the embarrassment of the injury might hold him silent, but we cannot count on it.”

  Hearing Lilian’s assessment, Rebecca gives a dejected nod. These are the same conclusions she reached.

  “So you must cause enough pain that you can pull free, but small enough injury that it could not be considered assault,” Lilian completes. “I have a suggestion or two.”

  At these words, Rebecca brightens considerably. They spend several minutes with Lilian demonstrating how to bend fingers and pinch flesh to cause a grip to release. “Do not bite, you may accidentally draw blood. Do try to step on his toes as you spring free. It is unlikely you will break anything, but those spikes of yours should provide sufficient pain and surprise to assist your escape.”

  At Rebecca’s request they practice for a few more minutes before starting to correct their disarray.

  “You understand that this defense is unlikely to work more than once, do you not?” Lilian questions as she reorders her blouse. “You should enroll in the Serengeti Training. It is highly regarded and Seigneur Thorvald has an excellent reputation.”

  With a wry shrug, Rebecca admits, “I’m too unschooled to qualify for any of the associate sessions. I have tried. The instructors become impatient and I hinder the other students.”

  “What about the Cartel Militia training? Many of the militia recruits enter the Cartel untrained.”

  As Lilian completes the thought Rebecca shakes her head, “It’s against custom.”

  As a Cartel apprentice, rigid stricture defines allowable physical contact with other than the seigneurs. Even for training purposes, it is unlikely that physical contact with the lower orders will be permitted.

  Slipping her feet back into her shoes, Lilian considers her friend’s problem, “Mayhap you should discuss the dilemma with Master Straus. He is a fair man and will recognize that you need to protect yourself.”

  “Protect yourself from what Mistress Rebecca?” Standing in the door is Thorvald, the Serengeti Training and Cartel Militia Seigneur. Of average height, Thorvald has significant breadth to his shoulders and thick arms and legs, all muscle. Short, dirty blond hair with a single warrior braid down his back tops a square face with blunt features that could in no way be considered handsome. The crooked nose is paired with deep blue eyes surrounded by incongruously long lashes. On a woman the eyes would be beautiful. On the grim soldier in the doorway they keep him from being completely terrifying.

  At the seigneur’s entrance, Lilian stops reaching for her jacket and stands with her hands at her sides, waiting. Rebecca, seated on the floor to don her shoes, rises immediately, one foot bare.

  Rebecca gives Lilian a beseeching glance before she realizes that Lilian cannot offer aid. Rebecca was the one addressed, Rebecca must answer. Straightening her shoulders, Rebecca responds, “I am woefully inadequate in the martial arts, seigneur. I travel the city on the public transport, often at late bells. I would be safer had I some skill.”

  All true if not the current challenge. Rebecca dare not slander a senior in rank.

  The Militia Seigneur looks at the young woman doubtfully before nodding, “Have you completed your duties for the day?”

  At Rebecca’s “yes seigneur” Thorvald says, “Then I will assess your abilities. Remain.”

  “Mistress Lilian, you may go.” Thorvald does not look at Lilian as he dismisses her.

  Gathering her jacket and slate bag, Lilian is forced to abandon Rebecca with a reassuring nod.

  Abandon? When did she become so protective of the blonde? Rebecca is not kin. Consortium. Lilian created commerce-kin when she pulled Rebecca into the skill consortium. Lilian owes the Cartel apprentice a liege’s protection. Entering the public transport, Lilian suspects that Rebecca would have done better to secure protection by suckling Martin in a stairwell. I am the sum of my ancestors.

  Sevenday 8, Day 4

  Hastening to Rebecca’s worksite eighth bell attendance complete, Lilian is intent on discovering what occurred after she was dismissed the prior evening. Lilian was in no way surprised that Seigneur Thorvald never glanced at her. It is common enough when the beautiful Rebecca is present. Lilian also knows that the harsh, rigid soldier finds Lilian’s existence anathema. He is among those whose training sessions were suddenly filled or cancelled when Lilian attempted to participate.

  To Lilian’s amazement, Rebecca is bright, relaxed and smiling. “How went matters with Seigneur Thorvald?”

  “Excellently well,” Rebecca replies, happily. “The seigneur agreed that my skills are woefully inadequate and that I’m unqualified for the associate training classes. The seigneur’s devised a program to develop my skills. He’ll supervise it personally.”

  For a moment Lilian is surprised. It is only for a moment. “Seigneur Thorvald favors you.”

  “Yes he does,” is the quiet response. Rebecca is no freer to discuss what happens with the seigneurs than Lilian is to discuss what transpires behind the scarlet door. Lilian knows her friend well enough to recognize that in this instance, the favor is not a burden.

  “Have you truly been in training since your tenth year?” Rebecca wonders.

  At Lilian’s nod, Rebecca questions, “Which classes do you take?”

  “I do not use the Serengeti facilities. I train at home.” At Rebecca’s questioning glance, Lilian decides not to enlighten her about Thorvald’s animosity.

  “Recall you what occurs in the Archives?” The sudden clearing of the space around Lilian is becoming more amusing than insulting.

  “You may have impeded the other students,” Lilian continues wryly. “How well will it be when they are all crowded in a corner lest a drop of my sweat taint them?”

  “It would serve them right,” is Rebecca’s loyal response.

  “Mayhap, but it would not serve Serengeti nor monsignor to have it so. Nor am I without instruction. My mother is Master of Sinead’s Discipline. It is a challenge to spar with her and it has the advantage that I may do so before I enter the Cartel. I never risk a conflict disrupting my training schedule.”

  “Everyone misses a session now and then,” Rebecca shrugs.

  “Adelaide’s discipline is demanding. Should I be lax in my training, my timing deteriorates. Currently, my skills go far to keep insult from becoming injury. I also find it builds clarity of thought. Something about the physical discipline transfers to intellectual discipline.”

  “Risk an undisciplined thought? I understand why you wouldn’t wish to miss a training session,” Rebecca cannot resist the urge to tease her overly solemn friend.

  Lilian responds with a nod. Unvoiced is Lilian’s thought, you truly do not.

  »◊«

  Tenth bell before midday chimes as Trevelyan enters a small, windowless chamber in a distant corner of the thirty-fifth storey. The limited space is crowded with an impressiv
e array of techno groupings. Ten associates add to the claustrophobic atmosphere.

  Against the far wall, a slender, black clad form works two reviewers simultaneously. Two of Trevelyan’s most senior and trusted associates flank her. The other associates cast occasional curious glances in the direction of the trio.

  A day gone, at almost exactly this time, Lilian first entered the chamber in Trevelyan’s wake. Lilian had no notion such chambers existed. The extensive walls on this level that lack interior windows are explained. As Trevelyan guided Lilian to a worksite, the associates around them shuffled and murmured. None were so bold as to change seats when Lilian settled into the station assigned by the spymaster.

  The stocky woman to Lilian’s right cast a glance at Lilian and then shrugged. The slender man to her left sneered. Lilian squared her shoulders.

  Trevelyan snarled at the man, “Do you enjoy your place?”

  “Yes, Master Trevelyan!” The man rapidly asserted, swallowing his sneer.

  “Mistress Lilian, please reveal the pattern of fraud,” Trevelyan snapped.

  Wordlessly, Lilian ignited first the worksite and then her slate. Tapping rapidly, she transferred all the data she gathered in her investigation. After a few minutes she spoke softly, “Master Trevelyan, if you please, I require two more reviewers.”

  With a gesture, Trevelyan dismissed the stocky woman and the slender man from their positions.

  The stocky woman offered a smiling nod as the man huffed away. It was as Trevelyan explained on their walk from milord’s office. None of Trevelyan’s agents will be named. Lilian is not to inquire.

  Ten minutes later even the huffy man is riveted by the depth and complexity of Lilian’s analyses. The slender man is an expert in financial analytics. For a brief moment acid envy eats his soul. Ambition surges and envy retreats. The tainted doxy has neither status nor access to pursue the brilliant pattern. His career is made. He should never have doubted monsignor’s Luck of the First.

  This day, as soon as Lilian confirmed Rebecca’s wellbeing, she hurried to the chamber. It is beyond wonderful. Even at the university Lilian did not have access to the archives Trevelyan commands. The ones she most desires to mine are denied. Requirements for those she must pass to Mistress D and Master J.

  Mistress D remains remote and welcoming. Master J is cool but no longer hostile. Both agents command two reviewers of their own. The elegant pattern of the counterfeiters’ scheme forms under Lilian’s flying fingers and then leaps from her reviewers to the others. Six reviewers are as one displaying a maze worthy of the ancients.

  Lilian pushes back in her chair as her gaze roves the complex set of displays. She speaks softly and taps at her slate. The maze reorders. It is no less complex. Lilian rises from her seat and moves from the first reviewer to the sixth, continuing to murmur as she moves.

  The two senior associates do not interfere. The others in the chamber abandon all pretext of commerce, fixated on His Preeminence’s notorious apprentice. Lilian carefully taps her slate. She ceases to speak to herself. She taps again. The complex arrangement rearranges yet again.

  “Mistress D, Master J, what is your assessment?” Lilian asks quietly. She is certain she has it all. She wishes confirmation in Master Trevelyan’s presence.

  “Master Magnus Bolivar must be under Cartel control,” Mistress D states.

  “The archives at the fabrication facility are required in total,” Master J asserts.

  “There is a hidden stockpile of materials that Blooded Dagger can claim for its own purposes,” Mistress D completes.

  “Excellent,” Trevelyan grins. “Monsignor will be very pleased. Is there anything else?”

  “Master Trevelyan,” Lilian whispers.

  At Trevelyan’s nod, Lilian swallows hard. She has suspected this all along. Until she had the aid of Trevelyan’s resources, she had no empirical foundation for her certainty. A few quick taps on her slate and the complex pattern disappears. Only Lilian’s reviewer remains active.

  “Monsignor’s privilege,” Lilian invokes softly.

  Trevelyan empties the chamber with a gesture.

  Two taps and Lilian’s concern is revealed. The pattern cannot be disputed. Mr. Simmons meeting request could only have been intercepted from within the Cartel. The counterfeiters have an agent inside Serengeti.

  Chapter 13: Cartouche and Cartel

  After consolidating his control over three of the four planets in the First System, Socraide Omsted turned his ambitions to Artesia. The domain of Mulan Tsao, the planet was once an educational and spiritual retreat. It contained the only surviving archives of the ancients. Within those vaults resided the final, reliable repositories of the knowledge and wisdom of the vanished society.

  To the violent marauders of the Anarchy, the archives were worthless. The remote world was strategically unimportant. It had been bypassed for two and half centuries. As a result, it retained undamaged fields and forests that offered supplies and untapped geological resources that promised the raw materials for weapons.

  As marauders began to circle, the Principal Archivist recognized that the last, precious vestiges of enlightenment were about to be obliterated. Mulan took to arms and became the Third Warrior. While Socraide was consolidating his territory, the Third Warrior converted a half billion scholars and farmers into citizen-warriors who would die before yielding the planet.

  Clever, devious and ruthless, Socraide evaluated the cost of conquest and chose alliance. In that moment, three centuries of momentum pivoted from Anarchy to Order. In exchange for some of his vast wealth, Socraide acquired access to the stored knowledge of the ancients. Mulan never relaxed her vigilance. With Socraide’s tribute she was able to once again begin the laborious process of increasing the archives. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 9, Day 1

  “Is he very angry, Lilian?” Chrys and Rebecca anxiously question Lilian as they slip into seats next to her in the Associates Hall. In a few moments, the final scores for this year’s training period will be announced.

  For over a sevenday, the media have reveled in the Vistrite counterfeiters. Over a score of deaths are attributed to the failure of counterfeit Vistrite devices. Three families associated with the prestigious Iron Gauntlet Cartouche have been severed from the Cartouche and discredited. The Final Draught has been received by all the adult members of the three discredited families.

  The Serengeti Group has been awarded all the assets of the counterfeiters’ consortium and all the tainted property derived from the counterfeit scheme. Assets reduced by the standard commission for the protocol review and the criminal fines levied by the Governing Council.

  Over fifty collaborators of the common level have been indicted. Three were employed in Serengeti’s Desperation Refinery. A shocking six from the educational elite await the outcome of their protocol reviews.

  “Someday, Rebecca, someone who cares will hear you give voice to such an irreverent reference to His Preeminence and it will go ill for you,” warns Chrys.

  “It’s a lot safer than giving voice to Monsignor Lucius and having everyone within three arm lengths straining to listen in,” Rebecca responds with a pointed look at the three associates seated two rows down.

  A few moments gone the trio offered them no regard. They are now blatantly focused on Lilian and her companions.

  “Well no matter in this instance.” Raising her voice to carry Lilian continues, “Monsignor is not angry at all. Monsignor is pleased that the Servants of Anarchy have been discovered and the dangerous products removed from circulation. Monsignor is also very pleased with Master Trevelyan for ferreting out the shadeless miscreants.”

  “I expect monsignor was not at all pleased when he set Master Trevelyan on the trail of the shadeless miscreants,” offers Chrys with a dry smile.

  “As you voice Chrys,” Lilian concurs. “If monsignor is motivated to set Master Trevelyan upon one, monsignor is not pleased
at all.”

  With a quick glance at the score of riveted associates attending them, Lilian drops her voice, “I must thank you both for your assistance. We could not have executed this better had we had planned ahead.”

  At the stunned looks from her companions, Lilian asks, “Surely you do not believe I would discuss monsignor’s mood or position without monsignor’s instruction?”

  “Surely you realize monsignor keeps you on a very short leash?” Rebecca’s replies waspishly. “Knowledge of our masters’ moods and opinions are among the few things of value we have to trade in. Monsignor’s would be particularly valuable. There are many who’d gladly owe you a favor in return for knowing what they will discover on the other side of the scarlet door.”

  “I am certain you have the right of it. There have been times when I would have traded much for that information,” Lilian agrees. “It matters not. Monsignor’s will is certain, and not unreasonable. Monsignor spent the first two years of preeminence combatting pirates without and intrigues within the Cartel. It is not a wonder that monsignor finds value in keeping even monsignor’s friends off-balance.”

  “You may be correct, Lilian” puts in Chrys, “but I am in agreement with Rebecca. Monsignor prefers you on a very short leash.”

  Before Lilian can further defend milord, Master Straus steps to the podium. All conversation ceases. Today the hall is filled to capacity. Nickolas is seated with Irina in the front rows. Across the aisle is Martin.

  Lilian holds no doubt that Blooded Dagger has surpassed Grey Spear at a record level. She is as anxious as her friends to discover how the Cartel Associates have fared. Rebecca completed her training with excellent scores. Lilian is certain the other Cartel apprentice and the four new Cartel associates also did well.

  Lilian’s hopes are exceeded.

  Blooded Dagger has achieved record scores and defeated Grey Spear by twice the Cartel record. Grey Spear, Iron Hammer and the Cartel Associates are tightly clustered together. Iron Hammer has edged out Grey Spear for second place. More importantly, the Cartel associates have matched Grey Spear.