The Cartel

by E G Manetti

  Unable to stifle a yawn, Lilian shakes her head, “Weary. I had little sleep this past night.”

  “He kept you up all night? It’s all well and good that he can call on the supernatural aid of the First Warrior’s Shade. Doesn’t he know you are mortal?” Rebecca is outraged.

  As expected, once Rebecca’s training completed, her bells dedicated to carnal services decreased markedly. Rebecca’s commitment to nine encounters a sevenday rarely equates to more than six bells. Most of the seigneurs wish a quick release. It is not so for Lilian. Her bells are governed by milord and milord’s pleasure is rarely rapid.

  “Rebecca, please me and do not give voice to that silly story. The circumstances were unusual. I have not been mistreated. But I am sleepy. It will be a long day and evening,” Lilian barely manages to stifle another yawn.

  “Take a wafer,” at Lilian’s blank look Rebecca continues, “’a nap in a box.’ One of the stimulant wafers from the dispensary.”

  Rooting in her slate satchel, Rebecca offers, “I have some, somewhere.”

  “I have some. I did not think of them. I have not had recourse to them before,” Lilian admits.

  “You haven’t been in thrall to the Shade of the First before. Accept the assistance a wafer can offer. They’re safe. One can acquire them anywhere.” With a grin Rebecca continues, “If it pleases you Mistress Lilian, activate your slate. Master Trevelyan requires some data.”

  The stimulant wafers are packaged twelve to a box. Each wafer contained in an open ended wrapper. Fully sealed, the wafers disintegrate and become unusable. Taking the first from the box, Lilian allows the small wafer to dissolve on her tongue.

  Returning Lilian’s slate, Rebecca muses, “A night of unusual circumstances and I am preempted to the spy chief. Lilian, there is more to this than simple administrative tasks, is there not?”

  Casting around, horrified they might be overheard, Lilian leans into Rebecca, “Do not. Do not speculate, not even in your own mind, let alone give it voice. Not unless commanded by Master Trevelyan or monsignor. Do not.”

  Chapter 16: Settlement Day

  The calendar of the Third System is synchronized with the rotation of the fifth planet, Metricelli Prime. The planet’s rotation, or day, is divided into twenty-four periods of sixty-four minutes. Days are grouped in sevens. Five sevendays equals a month. Ten months equal a year or a single orbit around the sun.

  For reasons lost in the rise from Anarchy, Seventh Day is reserved for reverence to the Five Warriors. Retailers and entertainments continue their trade. All other commerce ceases in deference to the Five Warriors. In addition to Seventh Day, each of the Five Warriors holds a Festival Day of spiritual significance to the sect.

  There are two Twelve Systems wide festivals each year, the Festival of the Five Warriors and the Code of Engagement Festival. For the Five Warriors’ Festival, except for those engaged in Festival Commerce or Shrine Rituals, all citizens are at liberty.

  Other than Seventh Day and the Five Warriors’ Festival, scheduled liberty for servitors and apprentices is restricted to one-half day on settlement days. There are five annual settlement days. Every two months, Sixth Day is dedicated to clearing accounts. The First Day following a settlement day experiences a spike in bankruptcies.

  Sevenday 10, Day 6

  “Lilian, the chimes have sounded,” Chrys’ voice pulls Lilian from her fixation with her worksite reviewer.

  At Lilian’s barely articulate, “What say you?” Chrys smiles and he shakes his head, “Even you must have some settlement activity planned. And did you not voice you could use an extra period in the day? Today you have six.”

  This is settlement day. The day the Cartel pays its associates. All are dismissed at midday to attend to their personal affairs. Lilian and her friends receive junior associate compensation. For apprentices, one half of the payment, known as the bond price, is remitted to their former masters.

  Apprentice development is an excellent source of secondary revenue for the educational elite. The scholars provide food, shelter, clothing and education. As a matter of custom, the academies and universities do not charge for the apprentices’ studies. The more highly regarded the Scholar, the higher the compensation rate and the Scholar’s resultant commission.

  Out of the share they retain, apprentices pay for their lodgings, food, clothing and other needs. Many aid their families and younger siblings, as Chrys does. Rebecca’s mother collected Scholar Rupert’s bond price and disappeared back into the slums of Rimon Deuce. It is unlikely that Rebecca could find her mother should she desire to do so.

  Lilian’s university fees were paid by her extinct cartouche. Dean Joseph acted as her agent in the bond negotiations and receives only the standard twenty percent. It is payment he would willing forgo but cannot. Any suggestion that Lilian’s circumstances are being eased by special treatment will void her sentencing agreement and send her to the Final Draught. It is among the reasons Sinead’s Shrine is so careful in the allowance made to Helena. They dare not compromise Lilian’s trial.

  With brief, wistful regard, Lilian locks her worksite as she says, “Chrys, you are correct. I have an eleven-year old sister who has outgrown her training garb. There are other uses for these periods.”

  In different circumstances, Katleen’s attire could be purchased at leisure. The merchants would receive payment on the next settlement day. By definition, the discredited do not receive credit. Lilian has no name to tarnish with dishonest dealings. When, and if, Lilian proves her bond, she will be permitted to select a surname. Until then she is simply Lilian of Serengeti. The tokens she proffers to the merchants are prepaid. Katleen’s school fees are paid by settlement day transfer as are the Dean’s agent fees.

  As Lilian rises, Chrys suggests, “Consider a nap. The circles under your eyes are noticeable. Does it please, a number of us gather in the River Quarter at sixth bell. Rebecca has discovered a café that is within apprentice budgets.”

  A nap. The notion is unbelievably tempting. Do not. Resisting fatigue, Lilian replies, “My bells are committed. Another time.”

  As Chrys walks with her to the public transport, Lilian nods absently to the discourse she is not attending.

  Lilian’s friends know nothing of the kitchen disaster. If Lilian’s desperation becomes common knowledge, those who despise the family will act to complete their destruction. As Lilian feared, the crafter pressured by Sinead’s Shrine into accepting the work is demanding an extortionate payment. The damage must be addressed before the rains arrive.

  Lilian’s mental calculations do not change for repetition. Augmented by Lilian’s slender reserves, the amount remaining after Katleen’s school fees and the kitchen repairs will barely keep them fed until next Settlement Day. Another crisis and Lilian’s situation will be beyond dire.

  Any failure to meet her commerce obligations will forfeit her trial. The only source for additional funds is the gray market. Criminal transactions will forfeit Lilian’s trial.

  Nor are Lilian’s troubles limited to her finances. Yet again, vile, slanderous slogans and images mar the exterior of Katleen’s house. From experience, Lilian knows the removal is an exhausting and time consuming task. It is not the only task in the backlog of household maintenance.

  As the transport lurches into movement, Lilian sees Chrys waving from the pavement. Hanging from the transport grip, Lilian raises one hand in response. I am the sum of ancestors.

  Sevenday 11, Day 3

  “…several more months,” Seigneur Marco concludes.

  Blinking, Lilian wearily focuses on her slate, forcing the fuzzy wobbling symbols to order. She has been unable to shake the effects of the lost sleep from the Night of the Traitor. Two periods of discourse on Cartel manipulation of the Governing Council have taxed her considerable powers of concentration and endurance. Locking her knees to remain upright, Lilian taps out notes on Cartouche strategy.

  As milord rises, followed by the three seigneurs and hi
s protégé, Lilian moves to avoid hindering the ranked. Suddenly light-headed, she reaches for the nearest chair and grasps it. It becomes a black hole that expands to swallow her.

  As the scarlet door recesses behind his departing seigneurs, Lucius turns to discover Lilian prone on the floor with Nickolas standing over her. Before Lucius can inquire, Nickolas bursts out, “Monsignor I know not what occurred. She simply collapsed without a sound.”

  “Summon the Master Medic,” Lucius clips.

  “What is amiss with her, Chin?” From faraway Lilian can hear milord speaking. Her left arm is oddly chill.

  A stranger’s voice responds, “Wafer abuse.”

  “Surely not. I would have noted the signs,” Milord’s voice is sharp with irritation and challenge.

  “The toxin levels are quite high. Also, she appears to have dropped weight recently. That skirt is quite loose. What would you estimate?” The unknown voice is matter of fact, clinical.

  “How say you, Chin?” Milord’s angry voice holds confusion.

  “You are the one who lies with her, make a determination” the new voice demands impatiently.

  Lilian is awake but cannot open her eyes, although she is very interested to discover who would speak so to milord. A large familiar hand strokes over her collar bone, across her ribs and down her abdomen. Lilian is lying on the couch, with milord seated somewhere near her waist. “You are correct. She has dropped weight, at least a stone.”

  “A fair amount for her frame, and in addition to the stone she dropped between her protocol review and First Day,” remarks the other man, mostly to himself.

  The next statement is unquestionably directed to milord. “She is exhausted and half starved. Whatever you are about, it must cease.”

  Lilian’s eyes finally obey her command to open. The unknown man’s is kneeling on the floor. Broad features with sharp cheekbones and a blade of a nose are complimented by almond shaped, deep set black eyes and a mobile mouth. The golden complexion is topped by dark, tightly curling hair kept short. In his early sixties, of average height, the man is slender and moves with studied grace as he focuses on this tasks.

  Finding her eyes open, the man greets her, “Well met, Mistress Lilian.”

  “Well met indeed, Master Medic,” Lilian replies. She is propped on several cushions that have been placed behind her shoulders and head.

  “The wafers, Lilian, speak to us about the wafers. I would know.” Milord’s voice is harsh. Milord’s countenance is set in rigid lines. Milord has one arm braced on the back of the couch, caging her. Milord is not pleased.

  “’A nap in a box’ is what Rebecca names them. It is an accurate description,” Lilian explains hoping to dispel milord’s irritation.

  “Lilian,” the medic interjects, ignoring milord. “How many have you consumed?”

  “In total? Four, Master Medic.” Lilian is relieved to turn her gaze from milord’s harsh expression to the master medic’s dispassionate regard.

  “Four?” Chin is appalled. “That is very dangerous. You should not ingest more than one per day and not within six bells of seeking sleep.”

  “Yes, I know, Master Medic,” Lilian is bewildered. “I have not. One this past Fifth Day at the eleventh bell before midday; one this past First Day at the evening seventh bell; one yesterday evening at fifth bell; and one today at the second bell.”

  “And before that, Mistress Lilian, how many and with what frequency?” Chin pursues.

  “None and never, Master Medic,” Lilian responds, her bewilderment increasing.

  “Lilian,” milord interrupts. “Until this past Fifth Day you have not ingested a single stimulant wafer in your entire life?”

  “Yes milord,” Lilian returns tentatively. Why is milord so angry?

  “Do not ever ingest another,” instructs Chin.

  Rummaging around in his aide bag, Chin continues to speak without a glance at the startled pair. “Mistress Lilian, you have an extreme sensitivity to common stimulants. The toxins in your blood are consistent with sevendays of overuse.”

  Chin collects Lilian’s hand palm up, “This injection will counteract the toxins and purge them from your system. It will also make you drowsy.”

  There is sharp pinch on Lilian’s wrist and then the sensation of cool water flowing up her arm.

  “Where did you acquire the wafers?” The medic’s dry, impersonal tones are somehow comforting.

  “From the Cartel Dispensary, the box is in my satchel,” Lilian replies.

  “On the side table,” milord indicates with a nod of his head.

  Chin collects the bag and after a brief hesitation pulls forth the box. “Cartel issue, four tabs gone.”

  Returning the satchel to the table, Chin places the wafer container in his aide bag. “It is unlikely they are tainted. I will have them tested to be certain.”

  Turning back to Lilian, the Master Medic begins, “Now let us-”

  “A moment, Chin,” interrupts milord.

  As the master medic moves to argue, milord holds up a hand. “Exhausted and half-starved? Permit me my will in this.”

  Turning his attention from the fuming medic, milord continues, “Lilian, you did not attend me on First Day. Why did you consume a wafer?”

  “I did not expect to find my bed until after Dark of Night, milord,” Lilian responds dutifully, her bewilderment unabated. Milord is behaving oddly, although his displeasure has not escalated.

  “And why was that?” Milord’s tone holds a hint of silk.

  It is escalating now. Unable to imagine her fault, Lilian hastens, “It was the Cartel assignments, milord. They are not difficult, but they are time consuming. I leave them for the evening periods.”

  Wordlessly, Lucius’ activates his slate. There is little in Lilian’s recorded life that is inaccessible to him. His frown intensifies as Lucius studies the slate. It was there for him to note a sevenday gone had he not been distracted by other matters.

  Lilian’s queue is riddled with Cartel assignments. All five she displayed the Night of the Traitor were so marked. In addition to the workload assigned by Lucius, his apprentice has another twenty plus periods of Cartel assignments in her queue. The past two months are the same.

  “Your Cartel assignments were to cease when your training completed,” Lucius is annoyed. They were a quickly improvised ploy to hinder Lilian’s too rapid completion of the Cartel training program.

  “Execute none of these,” Lucius states as he sets aside his slate.

  Chin narrowly regards Lucius. The woman’s exhaustion is explained. Her gauntness may well have its origin in the same source. “Lucius, if you have concluded, might I continue?”

  At Lucius’ nod, Chin begins his interrogation.

  “When did you eat last and what did you consume?” The medic’s soothing tones are leading.

  “A protein bar at the eleventh bell,” Lilian replies.

  “And before that?” Chin pursues.

  “Soup last night, tenth bell mayhap,” Lilian drags the information from memory.

  With a wry expression Chin voices, “Allow me to guess, more protein bars before that, maybe juice and roll for breakfast. The day before the same, and the day before that as well.”

  Lilian shakes her head in denial. “That was Seventh Day. There is opportunity for true meals on Seventh Day.”

  In response to the last comment, Chin’s irritation surfaces, “When did you last consume a midday meal?”

  Shades of the Five, must they discuss this?

  “Yes, Lilian, the Master Medic has a purpose. We must discuss this,” milord’s tone is even, devoid of harshness.

  Eyes widening in surprise Lilian responds, “Milord, did I voice that thought?”

  “You did, now answer the Master Medic’s question,” milord commands.

  Mortified, Lilian closes her eyes. She cannot bear to face either man.

  “Six sevendays,” she chokes.

  “Nothing more recent, you are cer
tain?” Chin is not pleased with Lilian’s response.

  “Yes Master Medic, I am certain. It was the last red gem day. Chrys and I went to the art museum cafe.” Lilian’s eyes remain closed as she attempts to pretend the embarrassing conversation is not occurring. It is not as if the entire Cartel and half the city do not know how she passes midday. She simply does not wish to discuss it.

  “Red gem day?” Chin inquires.

  Milord ignores Chin as he collects Lilian’s left hand palm up. It has been too long since Lilian’s last cycle.

  “No hint of scarlet,” Chin confirms, his dispassionate tones hold a hint of relief.

  “Lilian, this will not do.” The medic is as commanding as milord. “You cannot correct living on protein bars and soup for six days with meals on the seventh.”

  To Lilian’s closed eyes, Chin yields exasperation, “It is possible to consume a meal at some time other than midday.”

  “Thirty-third and thirty-fourth strictures,” offers Lilian from behind sealed eyelids. Her embarrassment spiked with the examination of the contraception mark. “There are thirty-six. Should the Master Medic wish it, I am able to recite them.”

  “That will not be necessary,” milord interjects.

  “You have her in a pretty box do you not?” Chin addresses his preeminence. Lucius has always been selfish. His demands on his apprentice are extreme. Chin is disgusted and not hesitant to express it. “Under the thirty-third, midday is the only respite sufficient for a meal. The thirty-fourth prohibits apprentices from consuming food at their worksites.”

  Lilian is uncertain of the source of Master Chin’s ire. More intriguing is that he so readily displays it to milord and with such familiarity. Seigneur Marco never fails to properly address milord.

  “I can do naught more with potions,” the Master Medic rises with his aide case. “It is your box, Lucius. Discover a means out of it.”

  The implication is lost on Lilian but not Lucius. Chin is prepared to use his office to correct what he considers Lucius’ abuse of his apprentice.