The Cartel

by E G Manetti

  “Discover a means,” this from Lilian. “That is what we call it, the Apprentice Protocol. Thirty-six strictures and they all equate to the same stricture. Do not ask, do not complain, discover a means.”

  Eyes closed, Lilian does not see Lucius’ stunned face or Chin’s smile.

  “The injection I gave her will make her increasingly talkative and a little silly until she falls asleep. Lilian is to be sent to her home for the next two days.” Chin is busily tapping his slate as he cavalierly issues orders to one of the most powerful warriors in the Twelve Systems.

  “As you instruct, Chin,” Lucius acknowledges.

  “I will examine her immediately upon her return to the Cartel,” the Master Medic continues his orders.

  “Beg pardon, Master Medic, cannot,” Lilian responds opening her eyes. “Eighth bell I attend milord. Must. Not. Be. Late.”

  “Very well, immediately thereafter,” Chin acknowledges.

  At Chin’s exit, Lucius regards Lilian soberly, aware that he had missed the signs of her increasing desperation. “You have been seeking a way out of this box for some time, have you not?”

  “Only a few sevendays, milord,” Lilian disclaims. Milord must not believe she is complaining or that she would defy milord. “The box is supposed to open itself, but milord did not tire of me. I do not wish milord to, but then there is the box.”

  Lilian’s gray eyes are wide and slightly unfocused.

  “So you sought other solutions. In the future, you are to seek counsel with other than your doxy friends. Their suggestions bring you to grief,” milord commands.

  “Who then, milord?” Wishing to comply, Lilian has no recourse but to ask.

  “Seek out Master Medic Chin for counsel,” milord replies after a moment’s consideration.

  “Milord, I do not understand,” Lilian is beyond bewildered. “The strictures –”

  “For this, and only for this, you are released from all the strictures but one and four,” milord’s tone is gentle as are the fingers that stoke her temple.

  “Milord’s will in all matters and only milord may touch me,” Lilian recites.

  Dazed by milord’s aspect and the medic’s potions, Lilian voices her bewilderment, “Milord is being very kind.”

  “I am not kind, am I?” Milord pushes a lock of hair from Lilian’s face. Her faint and the subsequent move to the couch have loosened the severe arrangement.

  Turning her face into the pleasant stroking, Lilian considers the complex nature of the man who owns her bond. She must respond to milord’s query, “Devious, selfish, clever, ruthless, demanding. Not kind.”

  Milord’s hand ceases its stroking. He wishes to know all. Searching for a moment, Lilian offers, “Not the Shade of the First either. Silly story spread by stupid, lazy people.”

  “I am pleased you believe so,” milord responds, his lips twitching slightly.

  Milord is smiling. She wishes he would stroke her some more. The Master Medic’s potion is making it difficult to concentrate. What was milord saying? “Believe what, milord?”

  Considering the owlish gaze and confused response, Lucius is briefly tempted to continue the conversation. It would be interesting to discover what else Lilian might release from the vault of her reserve. It will not serve. Chin promised the potion would sedate her. Lucius must send her to her home. “Lilian, I am sending you home until Sixth Day. “

  Rising Lucius crosses to the desk, “Mistress Marieth, arrange for Mr. George to carry Mistress Lilian to her home. He will need to come to my office and escort her. Inform Master Nickolas that I am delayed until Mr. George arrives.”

  “I disgust him,” Lilian’s comment is clearly another spoken thought.

  “You disgust Mr. George?” Lucius questions as he settles on the couch.

  Shaking her head Lilian corrects, “Master Nickolas. Tainted, discredited, doxy. Too cowardly to die.”

  “Master Nickolas spoke thus?” There is a hard edge to Lucius’ voice. His protégé is customarily the model of warrior decorum.

  Once again shaking her head Lilian responds, “No protégé of milord’s would be so crude. I did not recognize him at first, not until he reminded me. The little girl to whom he was kind is dead. Nothing left but the apprentice. It used to be a nice memory.”

  Before Lucius can pursue the conversation further, three rapid pings signal Mr. George’s arrival.

  Placing one arm around Lilian, Lucius pulls her to her feet and holds her for a moment to steady her. Handing the woman and her slate bag to his driver, Lucius instructs, “Mr. George, carry Mistress Lilian home. You must assist her to the transport. Do not permit her speak to anyone and endeavor not hear whatever she may voice.”

  Chapter 17: The Household of a Seer

  Three months after the Code of Engagement was ratified on Sinead’s World, Rimon ben Claude became the final signatory. Confronted with the combined commitment of his rivals, the Second Warrior ringed his system with battle transports and threatened isolation. Knowing that a well-armed and unallied Second System could shatter their fragile agreement, the other four warriors entered into treaty with Rimon. They also matched his battle transports two for one. Rimon did not yield without concessions.

  At the Second Warrior's insistence, the 'Code of Engagement' was amended to contain protocols for resolution of disputes and legitimate pursuit of territorial ambition beyond the Three Systems. The ‘Code of Engagement’ and the Second Warrior’s ‘Governing Protocols’ are the foundation of all stricture in the current era. ~excerpt from The Origins of the Five Warriors, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 11, Day 4

  There is a lovely smell of hot tea and fresh toast somewhere very near. In answer to her insistent stomach, Lilian opens her eyes to the sight of her chamber. Her bedside table holds a tray. Katleen is seated on the bed next her. The young girl’s worried face shines in the morning sun.

  Morning sun? High morning sun? Adelaide protect me, I am late.

  Confirming Lilian’s worst fear, eighth bell begins to chime.

  As Lilian starts to scramble from her bed, Katleen cries out, “Lilian, do not. You must stay abed. It is Monsignor Lucius’ will.”

  At her sister’s panicked cries, Lilian stops and her memories begin to reorder. “Is today Fourth Day?”

  “Yes Lilian, you have slept beyond twelve bells. Mr. George said you might,” Katleen replies, concerned.

  Settling back on the bed, reaching for the tea mug, Lilian attempts to make sense of the muddle in her brain. “Mr. George carried me home yesterday. I was ill. The stimulant wafers do not agree with me.”

  It is half statement, half question.

  “Yes, it was prior to the evening meal. Maman and I were training in the courtyard when you came in with Mr. George,” Katleen confirms.

  “You were very silly. Mr. George said the Master Medic’s potion had made you silly and after you slept you would be well. You are stay home all day today and tomorrow. The Master Medic sent instructions. I am to make you eat your breakfast,” with that, Katleen sets the tray on Lilian’s lap.

  In addition to tea and toast, there is hot cereal and fruit. Without further urging, Lilian begins her meal. When all the fruit and half the cereal and toast are gone, Lilian sets aside the tray. She must speak to Katleen about portions. They cannot afford to waste food.

  Sipping her tea, Lilian enjoys the quiet solitude, the total lack of demand. Her recall of the prior day is uneven. There was talk of boxes and strictures and the Master Medic. Lilian is not certain she recalls correctly.

  I am not kind, am I? Milord’s words echo and Lilian recalls her unfiltered response. Adelaide save me. What did I voice? Even as she calls on her deity, Lilian relaxes. Milord was not angered. Milord was, Lilian searches for the right word, gentle. Gentle? Milord? Milord was kind. And amused. Lilian is certain milord was amused. Milord’s will is inexplicable. It so often is.

  Milord has not hurt her. Not truly. Considering what she has
learned in two months, Lilian acknowledges that in her ignorance she has been guilty of many minor transgressions. Milord has been patient and forbearing. Milord has permitted the consortium.

  The fraud investigation and subsequent Synthetics endeavor have provided her with unprecedented opportunity. For an apprentice to have a role in the Synthetics venture is a remarkable honor. For one of Lilian’s disgrace, it is wildly risky. Milord does not take foolish risks.

  Weakened by exhaustion and the powerful cocktail of wafers and Master Medic Chin’s potions, Lilian’s formidable defenses crack. Ruthlessly repressed optimism tentatively unfurls in Lilian’s shuttered spirit.

  Lying on her bed, Lilian regards the pattern of cracks in the ceiling. It will be the Grace of the Shades if the ancient pile does not collapse upon them before her bond proves. At the stray thought, Lilian’s lips twitch. Should the Shades withhold their grace, the Shrine will be forced to shelter maman and Katleen. With that irreverent thought, the cracks blur and Lilian drifts to sleep.

  An insistent bladder rouses Lilian at midday. Returning from the closet, Lilian collects her slate from its place by her bed. She has had sufficient introspection. She will work. Lilian begins to check her assignments. Only fifteen minutes pass before Lilian receives the access denied notice. Access is denied until Sixth Day.

  Very well, I am not remaining in bed.

  As she descends the stairs, Lilian is met by Katleen coming up with another tray. Taking the tray from her sister, Lilian continues down to the courtyard where she uses one of the stone shelves for a picnic table and chair.

  “Why are you not in school?” Lilian inquires.

  “You have been ill. The Master Scholar released me to tend you. Truly, I could not leave you here with only maman to care for you. You might have attempted to attend the Cartel,” Katleen replies earnestly.

  At the thought of milord’s reaction had she attended the Cartel after being sent home, Lilian nods, “I thank you for your care, my sister. However, my wits are returned. Tomorrow you attend school. Do you wish some of this?”

  After a moment, Katleen helps herself to some cheese and fruit. The two eat in companionable silence while they survey the barren fountain. As they are finishing, the silence is broken by the entrance chimes. Checking the security view, Lilian discovers Mr. George standing at the entrance and immediately releases the door, “Well met Mr. George, please enter my home.”

  “Well met indeed Mistress Lilian. It pleases me to see you up and about,” replies Mr. George with his customary grave courtesy.

  “Permit me to make you known to my sister, Katleen,” Lilian says as her sister joins her in the entry hall.

  The main entrance opens into a two story hall flanked by stairs leading to the upper levels. Opposite the entrance is the archway that leads to the courtyard and reception chambers.

  “Mistress Katleen and I became acquainted yesterday when I carried you home,” smiles the driver.

  “Well met, Mr. George. May I bring you a cold drink, for the day is warm?” Katleen solemnly offers the customary guest courtesies.

  “Well met, indeed. Thank you for your gracious offer, Mistress Katleen. A cool drink would be welcome.” George is in no manner thirsty. He very much desires to survey the interior of the house beyond the entry.

  To his disappointment, Lillian settles him on a marble bench built into the right side staircase. All he can discern are the courtyard’s stone archways and the dry fountain illuminated by the midday sun. Beyond the stone pillars there is naught but shadows. Handing Lilian the small pouch he carries, George explains, “From the Master Medic.”

  As Lilian accepts the small package, Katleen's returns with a tray and three glasses of iced green tea. Thanking the young girl, George sips his tea while Lilian examines the contents of the bag. There are three vials of liquid and instructions to drink one before bed for the next three nights.

  “I suppose these will make me silly, as well,” Lilian remarks with mild chagrin.

  Struck by that thought, Lilian turns to Mr. George, “My thanks for your care of me yesterday, Mr. George. I regret the Master Medic’s injection left me silly and my memories disordered. I beg pardon did I voice anything untoward while in that state.”

  “Not all Mistress Lilian,” Mr. George returns. With a smile he adds, “I find it pleases me to be likened to a tree-troll.”

  “I do beg your pardon. Truly, I meant nothing ill.” Lilian is beyond embarrassed. Mr. George has offered her naught but exceptional courtesy.

  “Peace mistress. It’s obvious that you admire the creatures.” Accepting that he will penetrate no further into the odd household, George thanks Katleen for the tea and takes his leave.

  As the door closes behind the large man, Katleen speaks, “He truly is quite like a tree-troll. Maman agrees. I believe she has added him to her woodlands.”

  It has been well over a month since Lilian last visited her mother’s chamber. Now, curiosity piqued, Lilian taps lightly on her mother’s door. Met by silence, she waits a moment then enters the chamber.

  The spacious chamber is sparsely furnished and echoes slightly. Tiled in pale shades of peach, blue and green the floor is barren of rugs. The wall opposite the chamber door is broken by two sets of French doors that yield to an empty balcony. The bed is large and covered in a faded coverlet of rust and green brocade. The material was of excellent quality and still offers comfort. The damaged chest with drawers, bed side table, and reading chair are worn. Covering the chair and table are old sheets to protect against an array of pigments and materials associated with fresco work.

  These materials are the source of the extraordinary sight that fills Lilian’s vision. Her mother is in the process of transforming her chamber into woodlands. All the walls are ornamented with sketched and painted figures. On the wall opposite the entrance, between the French doors are fruit trees bearing an odd amber-green fruit, ripening lemons mayhap. A bright, early dry season sky is taking form above the branches.

  Looking closer at the tree nearest the right side door, Lilian detects what might be the outline of a raccoon. A clever looking fox sits on the ground below. A raven darts about in the center of the scene with a flock of sketched but not pigmented birds.

  The raven is, without doubt, Lilian.

  Behind the fox is another figure. What appears to be a small wolf trots by carrying a rock-gnome by its collar. Examination reveals Seigneur Rachelle in the guise of a mythical creature, a coyote. The rock-gnome is Master Magnus.

  On the far side of the right hand door, Lilian discerns a pensive stork stepping carefully through a small stream. It is unquestionably Master Simon. In the far left corner, where the trees are only sketched, a sly looking weasel sneaks away with an egg in its mouth. The weasel is familiar, but Lilian is unable to make the connection.

  The area behind the bed, to the left of the door, is only lightly marked. It contains some flowering trees and a sketch of a waterfall pouring down from a corner near the ceiling.

  The wall opposite the bed is the most heavily pigmented. The expansive surface holds no furniture, only the closed doors to the clothes cabinet and the freshening closet. The mural is nearly complete. It is a nighttime forest with an ominous overcast sky. In the center is a large, dappled cat hunting an evil pack of rats. At the cat’s back is a tree-troll that is acquiring bark-like hair under her mother’s skilled application of pigment.

  There can be no doubt. The great cat is Lucius Mercio and tree-troll is Mr. George. A closer look at the rat pack reveals that one of the rats is a cat in disguise, Master Trevelyan. A nightingale sings in a tree almost directly over the Lucius cat’s head. It is unmistakably Lady Estella.

  Moving further into the chamber Lilian considers the wall containing the chamber entrance. It is blank except for a nightscape taking form in the upper right corner. Sitting on the edge of the bed to better view the hunting mural, Lilian shakes her head in astonishment. She is awed and mystified by her mother’
s artistry.

  The Cartel leadership and Lady Estella are often in the media. Trevelyan, Simon and Magnus are perplexing. Lilian knows she has not breached privilege on the fraud or the synthetics. Shrine gossip is prevalent and knows all ranks. Perhaps that is maman’s source? It is a riddle for another day.

  “Lilian, have you come to view your tree-troll? I believe I have him exactly,” Maman’s voice is happy. She is openly thrilled with her work.

  Unwilling to risk oversetting her mother, Lilian temporarily abandons the mystery of the Cartel associates. “Maman, this is wondrous, you have them exactly. I am certain that Mr. George would be flattered.”

  I suspect milord’s reaction might be somewhat different. “Although I do not discover Katleen, is she not to have place in your murals?”

  “Worry not, Katleen has a place. Your tree-troll showed me the way of it. Not a butterfly at all. It is not time for her yet. I must finish the birds first and you must do something about the weasel. That one has no place in your court.”

  “Yes, maman, I shall deal with the weasel,” Lilian agrees, humoring the Seer. Standing, Lilian goes to her mother and gently disengages brush and pigment palate from Helena’s hands. Placing them on pigment stand, Lilian asks, “Maman, have you eaten today? Shall you come down to the courtyard with me?”

  “In a moment, first we must gather the sea-demons. The tree-troll insists their time has arrived.” With that astounding comment, Helena pulls a small chest from under her bed.

  In stunned recognition, Lilian considers the box. She thought it lost in the disastrous aftermath of their ruin. Inside are eight elaborate antique puppets from children’s fables.

  As a child, Lilian delighted in the fables and puppet plays that were popular entertainment centuries gone. Displaced in by interactive reviewer entertainments, puppet plays are rarely executed. Helena indulged Lilian by presenting her with the characters from her favorite fable. Lilian’s late, unlamented sire, delighted in the ostentation of the antique toys.

  Kneeling to open the box, Lilian reviews the lovely and valuable objects. The three sea-demons are a set. They will bring sufficient funds to cover the kitchen repairs and replenish Lilian’s reserves.