by E G Manetti
Lilian considers and then abandons the plush sofa facing the reviewer. Sleep will come readily in those comfortable confines. Yielding to temptation, she collects the scarlet silk throw draped on one end. Milord’s chair is large enough that she can draw her feet up and tuck them under the throw. It is not so large that she will be able to recline.
The chair is swiveled to face the vista outside. Lights twinkling in the black crevasse rise to meet a blotted black sky where clouds obscure the stars. The clouds offer gray shadows as their movement catches and reflects the city lights beyond and the crevasse below. The heavy sky shows an occasional flicker of lightening without rain.
Lilian turns the chair so the back is to the disturbing nightscape. Curling up under the throw she checks the slate again. Attendance required. There is naught to be gained by dwelling on the matter. Milord’s intent will be revealed when it is revealed. With a small sigh, Lilian starts to work through her assignment queue.
It is past dark of night when Lucius enters his bedchamber and discards his jacket and slate satchel. His mind is consumed by his plans and ambitions. He has loosened his tunic before he notes the rumpled bed. The stack of black silk and linen is in its customary position on the console table.
Lilian?
The glow of the reading light pulls his attention. The scarlet mound in the chair moves slightly.
Once again confounded by his apprentice, Lucius regards the sleeping woman for some moments. Scarlet does not become her. The vivid color has given the creamy skin a waxen hue. Lucius can think of no reason for her presence.
“What do you here?” Lucius’ words are accompanied by an insistent shake.
Lilian’s eyelids flutter and then open to reveal eyes unfocused by sleep. Groggily, Lilian responds, “Milord?”
“What do you here, woman?” Lucius repeats, ceasing to shake her.
Shaking her head, attempting to clear the clouds of slumber, Lilian manages to respond, “Attendance required.”
“Lilian, attendance was dismissed bells gone,” Lucius corrects. His consternation remains. Open defiance is unprecedented and unlikely.
Lilian sits up and gropes around her. The abandoned slate is located in the seat cushion. “Eleventh bell, attendance required. Verified. Pardon milord, still asleep.”
Stumbling to her feet, attempting to force the back the fog of slumber, Lilian activates her slate. The eighth bell attendance assignment glows with Lucius’ scarlet symbol.
After a glance at the proffered slate, Lucius retrieves his. Dropping into the vacant chair, Lucius confirms the dismissal was logged moments after the seventh bell.
“Have you updated this evening?” Lucius considers the technology with curiosity.
“Yes milord.” Lilian turns her slate so that Lucius may view the screen. Five assignments marked complete are logged between ninth and eleventh bell.
Reaching over, Lucius starts to tap the update command.
“Do not!” Lilian cries shoving his hand away.
Shocked, Lucius demands, “Explain yourself.”
“I beg milord’s pardon. It is another wrong thing.” It is evident from her tone that Lilian believes her explanation makes perfect sense.
“Another wrong thing?” Lucius is mystified, not enlightened.
“An anomaly, something not there that should be there or is there that should not be there.” Lilian stumbles a bit as she attempts an explanation.
“Such as scrubber contract for a refinery that no longer uses that technology?” Lucius inquires, beginning to understand.
“Yes milord, but this one is similar to the other one, Mr. Simmons’ missing request. Both are fractured scheduling records. One is not meaningful. Two is the beginning of a pattern. Should milord have updated my slate, a routine archiving protocol could have corrected the anomaly before it is investigated.” Lilian’s mind is starting to function more clearly, her ability to verbalize returning.
“Lilian, do you believe this scheduling error is somehow related to the counterfeit affair?” Lucius cannot fathom how that could be. He has good cause to respect his apprentice’s analysis.
Shaking her head Lilian responds “I know not, I know not. There is something. Please milord, I beg a moment.”
For long moments Lilian is motionless, her eyes fixed on an inner landscape. She is speaking softly to herself, but Lucius cannot make out the words. Finally, with an almost visible shift, Lilian returns. “The two must be related milord, but I am having difficulty with the pattern. The confederate has no motive to tamper again and risk detection. If the Simmons anomaly were due to systemic error, there would have been others between then and now. Milord might not have been aware, but I would have heard.”
“How say you?” Lucius is not pleased with that thought.
“The associates, milord,” Lilian states. “It would have generated a great deal of comment.”
Missed attendance requirements are treated severely. Lilian need not voice it. Lucius is well aware of the facts. Lilian is correct. Whatever is amiss, it is not a systemic error.
“Milord,” Lilian insists, “the fractured attendance request from Mr. Simmons was not caused by the counterfeiters. It is mere happenstance that it alerted us.”
Lucius ponders for a moment and then rises to pace. They have been searching for a confederate in the counterfeiter scheme on the basis of the Simmons record. It is all but impossible to interfere with internal communications from outside the Cartel. “So it is possible that someone is compromising Serengeti’s communications and archiving systems?”
It is a disquieting notion.
“Milord, there is one more element in the pattern of wrong things. Both are tied to milord’s files.” Quiet horror settles over Lilian as she understands what she has voiced. “This is very ill.”
Someone is attempting to breach His Preeminence’s files. The intent could only be ill. This is well beyond fraud. Somewhere in the Cartel, possibly within the Cartouche lurks a traitor.
Lilian starts towards milord as he turns. The anger on milord’s face is terrifying. It is beyond anything Lilian has experienced. A tsunami of rage roils in milord’s eyes. It halts Lilian and then forces her back a step. Thus might the First Warrior have appeared when confronted by treachery.
Frightened by milord’s aspect, Lilian becomes motionless, wrapped in shadows, hoping to be invisible, unnoticed. Milord’s rage passes her by and the pacing resumes. Minutes or eons pass as the enraged man prowls back and forth before the abyss beyond the windows. Slowly some of the awful tension seeps from the rigid form.
Milord returns to the chair, fingers steepled, thinking. Milord’s voice is calm, the awful rage leashed in iron resolve, “There is naught to be done until the eighth bell.”
Picking up his slate, milord makes a few quick taps. “I will have Trevelyan join us. It should not cause comment. We are yet concluding the counterfeits affair.”
Releasing his slate, milord gazes into the shadows where Lilian hides. “Lilian, do you understand why there is naught to do until the eighth bell?”
The quiet question startles Lilian although she has no difficulty in responding. “Yes, milord, it is as with the counterfeit plot. Why I could not go to milord when I wished. Aught out of the ordinary might incite comment and alert our adversary.”
“As you voice. Come out of the shadows, I am no danger to you,” milord is speaking softly as if attempting to lure a wild thing.
“Yes, milord. Where does milord wish me to be?” Lilian inquires, reassured by the mild tones.
“Here, come sit here with me.” Milord holds out a hand.
Pulled into milord’s lap, Lilian curls up against milord’s chest, relishing the warmth.
“How is that you are so readily chilled?” Milord asks wrapping Lilian in the fallen throw and resting his chin on Lilian’s head.
“I know not, milord. I do not believe it has always been thus, but I cannot recall with certainty.” It eludes Lilian how s
he is so readily chilled in the midst of the oppressive heat of the dry season.
Quiet descends. For some time there is no sound but the breathing of the two figures in the chair. Three bells chime. “Are you asleep, Lilian?”
“No milord. I do not believe I shall sleep again this night.”
Rising with Lilian in his arms, milord goes to the bed and lies down with her.
Lilian remains swaddled in the scarlet throw, milord stretched against her right side. Resting on his side, milord’s left arm curls over Lilian’s head as the fingers of milord’s right hand gently trace the contours of her face. The dark eyes are intent and unfathomable. The delicate caress whispers across her lips, her jaw, and down her throat. It teases one shoulder and then slips beneath the silk throw as milord’s lips tease Lilian’s.
Milord licks and lightly sucks her bottom lip as milord’s fingers skim her breast and seek her waist. The slow, feathery contact is as sedating as it is arousing. Lilian’s eyes flutter shut as her lips and thighs part in invitation. With an inarticulate murmur of approval, milord sends his tongue to gently explore the cavern of Lilian’s mouth as his questing fingers strum the delicate flesh of her sex.
Milord’s tongue withdraws from Lilian’s and finds the hollow of her throat. Milord’s tongue flicks the delicate indentation sending a jolt of desire to Lilian’s jewel. Milord’s fingers continue to tantalize her sex as milord’s lips skim her torso. As milord’s lips close on one nipple, the throw slides away. The slow, tantalizing play of milord’s mouth on her breasts and fingers on her sex has Lilian moving languidly on the bed. Her hands are fisted in the fine linen to keep them from milord’s exposed torso.
“Lilian,” milord breathes against one taut peak. It sears and chills and sends delight coursing through Lilian.
Forcing her eyes open, Lilian gasps, “milord?”
Milord releases her sex to gently stroke one temple. Milord’s face is relaxed, the dark eyes hold purpose. Clasping Lilian’s linen clenching fist, milord tugs gently.
Bewildered, Lilian yields her hand. Milord guides it to trouser fasteners and the straining flesh beneath. Eyes riveted on milord’s face for any shift in expression, Lilian lightly flicks the hard ridge. The organ jumps in response as milord’s eyes lid.
Gently, Lilian strokes the length of milord’s shaft. Milord rewards her with an answering caress to her flank. Lilian repeats her action and is again stroked by milord. Focused on the heavy lidded gaze of milord, Lilian slowly releases the long, hard length of milord. Hot satin over iron. At the sensation of milord in her hand, Lilian’s center slicks and tightens.
Triumph flickers in milord’s eyes before his head descends and his mouth claims hers. Again and again, milord sends gently exploring fingers across the surface of Lilian’s skin, urging her to return the caress. Her center winds tighter and tighter with each delicate touch, with each whispering stroke. She is wet, open and drugged with sensation when milord makes his slow, controlled entrance.
The steady slide of milord into her has Lilian arching her hips, seeking the heavy fullness of milord. Milord’s visage holds a small smile as he glides in and out of her receptive form. Lazy, languid, Lilian revels in the pleasure of the heady caress. Unexpectedly, she dissolves into a sea of sensuous pleasure as wave after wave sends her to shore.
Milord’s hand cups Lilian’s buttocks as she lies prone against milord. Her head rests on milord’s chest, one arm flung across the hard torso, one leg entwined with milord’s. A dark gray line separates the fading stars from the lights of the crevasse. Dawn is not far.
The hand not holding her ass, strokes Lilian’s spine. Milord’s inquiry rumbles gently against her ear, “Which strictures this night?”
“First, fifth, twentieth, tenth, fifth,” Lilian returns, and then adds, “tenth.”
Milord’s chest rumbles with humor, “In order of execution?”
“Yes, milord,” Lilian returns, raising her face to search milord’s countenance. Has she erred again?
Suppressing a grin, Lucius lightly strokes Lilian’s compressed lips. “Peace woman, you have not erred.”
As he shifts Lilian onto her back, Lucius mulls this latest insight into his apprentice. In numeric order, his will is paramount, she is to embrace his pleasure, she is to perform to the full extent of her abilities, and she must answer truthfully. Lilian’s repetition of the fifth and tenth in reflection of the evening’s events amuses Lucius. He regrets there is insufficient time to enjoy her again.
Sevenday 10, Day 5
“So, our traitor is not party to the Desperation Fraud and has an agenda we do not know,” Trevelyan summarizes, stunned by Lucius’ revelations.
Both men are seated at the conference table while Lilian stands behind milord’s left shoulder. Milord released her with the dawn to return to Katleen’s house for fresh attire. Lilian managed a brief training session with Helena before she raced to return to the Cartel.
“As you voice,” Lucius confirms Trevelyan’s conclusion. “Why risk attracting attention at this time, when the matter is resolved?”
Tight-lipped, Trevelyan replies, “A confederate in fraud was ill enough. A traitor with an agenda we have not identified? That is troubling indeed.”
Focusing on action, Trevelyan continues, “We will need to extract records from your files and from Mistress Lilian’s. It is a risk. Even with increased encryption there is potential for the contents to leak.”
“I beg pardon, milord, Master Trevelyan,” Lilian interjects tentatively. The stricture against speaking out of turn collides with the requirement to perform to the best of her ability. It is all but impossible to obey all the strictures simultaneously.
At milord’s gesture, Lilian relaxes. She has not erred. “It may not be necessary to collect more than the routing strips.”
“The routing strips, Mistress Lilian? How say you?” Trevelyan’s sharp gaze focuses on the raven.
“The broken request from Mr. Simmons was only the routing strip. The content portions were lacking,” Lilian explains.
“As you have already ably demonstrated, such limited information can be very powerful. Did you ever discover the content portion?” Trevelyan presses.
“No, Master Trevelyan. I understand it is possible to use the routing strip to search for related records, but it is beyond my skill. As it was not important to the counterfeits problem, I did not pursue it.”
“Lilian, how is it that you are so well versed in communications and data archiving protocols? This is not one of your areas of excellence,” milord gazes curiously at her.
“No, milord, it is not. Cartel apprentice Rebecca assisted me with the Desperation archives search. As milord may recall, the refinery review was a training exercise. I only knew that there was an anomaly to be explained.” Lilian is quick to point out that, at the time, only Cartel privilege attached.
“Resourceful of you,” milord smiles, reminded of Lilian’s success in aiding her training class to the benefit of his Cartel. Returning to the matter at hand, “Trevelyan, do you have what you require to proceed?”
“If I may?” At milord’s nod, Trevelyan turns to Lilian, “Mistress Lilian, does Mistress Rebecca have the skill to perform the searches you described earlier? The ones you are unable perform?”
“Yes, Master Trevelyan,” Lilian replies wondering at the direction of the spy’s questions.
“With monsignor’s permission, I would like to preempt Mistress Rebecca for a few days, perhaps a sevenday,” Trevelyan announces.
“What say you, Trevelyan?” Milord appears stunned by the nature of Trevelyan’s request.
To preempt an apprentice or associate is to secure dedicated services. With a Cartel apprentice that includes carnal services. Given Trevelyan’s exemplary service in the counterfeits investigation, it is not an unwarranted reward. Although Lilian cannot quite understand how it relates to the traitor. Nor can she fathom milord’s obvious surprise.
“Please, hear me, mo
nsignor,” Trevelyan asks, aware he has shocked his lord. For Trevelyan to request carnal access to an apprentice is completely out of character. “The investigation must be in the hands of those who are totally trustworthy. Among my operatives, those with the necessary skills are among my most senior. Should one of them access monsignor’s personal files, it may alert our traitor. Mistress Rebecca has the necessary skills. If noticed, her activity will be dismissed as administrative. She entered the Cartel after the first anomaly. We can be reasonably certain that she is in no way involved.”
“As you wish, Trevelyan,” Milord concurs, surprise retreating with Trevelyan’s explanation. “You have my authority to preempt Mistress Rebecca for the next sevenday. If there is naught else, you may go.”
“Thank you, monsignor,” Trevelyan says as he rises and exits.
Lilian waits for her dismissal. Milord is not finished.
Considering Lilian over steepled fingers, milord remarks, “Technologistics, Communications and Data Archiving, Analytics and Problematics; the total more than the sum of the parts. Lilian this amounts to more than ‘aid’ with training exercises. Have you formed a consortium inside my Cartel?”
“Yes milord. We consider it a skill consortium. Privilege restrictions are observed. I could find naught in protocol or stricture to indicate it is forbidden.” Lilian regards milord warily. It need not be a protocol violation to be counter to milord’s will. Milord can end her consortium with a word.
“It is not forbidden. You may go.”
»◊«
“Lilian, however you accomplished it, my thanks,” Rebecca’s voice jolts Lilian awake as the blonde dances to the worksite.
Rimon condemn me. Was I drowsing during commerce?
“You serve Master Trevelyan?” Lilian shakes her head to clear it as she absorbs her friend’s excitement.
“I do not care how tedious or administrative the work. Any assignment for Monsignor Lucius’ spymaster is an honor. Master Trevelyan requires the highest level of accomplishment and integrity from his associates.” Releasing her enthusiasm, Rebecca eyes Lilian narrowly, “You look worn. Is it well with you?”