Bond Proof

by E G Manetti

  The doors open, and harsh light slices the dead-strewn chamber. Friend? Foe? He cannot see and will not trust. Spinning from the shadow, he raises his blades. He will slay them all before they harm the children.

  Scarlet, gold, and black, the figure steps back, raising one hand, palm out, while the other holds a fire-rifle at hip height. “Peace! We are here to destroy pirates.”

  He halts midstrike. No pirate ever owned armor of that quality. Blooded Dagger’s colors. “Who are you?”

  “Mercio.”

  The spoiled warrior? He lowers his blades. That the man leads his forces is a surprise. He is also too late. “What delayed you so long?”

  Another armored man steps forward in cobalt, gray, and bronze. “Who are you? What occurred? Where are the pirates?”

  Covered in the blood of slain pirates, surrounded by carnage, Brother Abram releases his last claim on what he once was. “Name me Trevelyan.”

  6.

  Bright Star Command Crew

  Serengeti operates guesthouses at all its major commerce centers to accommodate those traveling in support of commerce and important commerce allies. The location and luxury of the quarters vary with the rank and importance of the guests. Sparkling Vistrite, the premier Serengeti guesthouse in Crevasse City, is located on Jonathan’s Avenue, the south–north transit route that runs along the Garden Center. Commanding an excellent view of the elaborate parkland, the twelve-storey structure dates to the ninth century and is but a mile north of the entrance for the Warrior Ring.

  On each storey, the four corners are given over to suites of two, three, or four bedchambers, the largest facing the gardens. Each suite contains a small, well-appointed kitchen and private freshening closets for each bedchamber. On the corridors, single-bedchamber accommodations include several sets with adjoining doors. The amenities include adjoining servitor chambers and dining facilities, with the most elaborate amenities gracing the suites on the top three stories that are reserved for signet warriors.

  There is naught that occurs within the well-monitored Serengeti guesthouses that is not accessible to cartel security-privilege, ensuring the safety of cartel guests and cartel commerce interests. ~ excerpt from Serengeti Group Travel and Accommodations, Serengeti Archives.

  Sevenday 140, Day 1

  Blackened structures are surrounded in a haze of smoke. Ragged bundles appear randomly and take form as the destroyed bodies of men and women and children amidst the blood pooling on the avenues . . . Rimon condemn—

  —them all! Lucius sits up in bed, his mouth acrid with the taste of drying blood, burned buildings, and rotting dead. Demon shit. Another dream of the pirates. The frustration of always being too late, arriving to find naught but desolation.

  “Monsignor?” Sabri appears with iced water scented with cinnamon and cloves. Too well trained to speak of it, Sabri was there when the evil dreams were a nightly occurrence and Lucius could not rid his mouth of the taste. Accepting the glass with a nod, Lucius lets the icy bite burn away the dark flavor of memory. Sabri is pompous, conservative, and obsessed with appearances, but he remained at Lucius’ side through that nightmare campaign and its aftermath. He lacks not courage, loyalty, or discretion.

  Setting aside the empty glass, Lucius declines tea and his morning custom of reviewing the overnight alerts from the bed. Rising, he ignores the robe proffered by Sabri and strides for the shower to cleanse skin tacky with sweat. “How passed Lady Estella’s night?”

  “Restless, Monsignor.” Sabri sets the water temperature to Lucius’ taste. “Marigold reports the lady slumbers now.”

  Restless nights and frequent naps are becoming common in Estella’s schedule. They will not be able to hide her illness much longer. Stepping into the spray, Lucius closes his eyes and prays. Master fear. Master sorrow.

  »◊«

  Pulling off her sweat-damp tunic, Lilian takes the stairs two at a time. Maman was in rare form this morning and their bout carried them into the gardens and back again. Invigorated by the exercise, she is also behind the bell. After her lapse with the courtyard covers, she has no desire to disappoint milord with the infraction of being late to the cartel.

  Toeing off her ankle boots, she kicks them toward the clothes closet. She can place them within after she showers. Tunic in one hand, she works the trouser fasteners with the other as she pushes into the freshening closet—where a black figure springs up, brandishing a blade.

  “Adelaide’s thorn!” It is Flavia with a poison detector, not a blade. Sliding her thorn back into its sheath, Lilian retrieves the dropped tunic from the floor. “What do you?”

  Coming to attention, Flavia salutes her with the wand. “I beg your pardon. You startled me. Your new cleansing products are safe to use.”

  This day. Flavia’s zealous attentions are beginning to wear on Lilian’s nerves. After that first morning, when they negotiated her sleeping arrangements, Flavia has been diligent in her service. The kitchen as well as the bedchambers have not been so dust-free since the ruin. Flavia even assists in the garden, decimating the weeds that have sprouted with the arrival of the green season.

  Lilian tosses the tunic in the launderer’s bin. “I thought we checked the products with the other goods purchased on Seventh Day.”

  Reaching into the bin, Flavia collects the soiled tunic and Lilian’s garb from the day gone. “I could not recall for certain. It is better to be certain.”

  Stepping out of her trousers, Lilian puts them in Flavia’s outstretched hand. She cannot regret that the woman will have tended to the laundry by the time Lilian returns from the cartel. Before Flavia can offer, she says, “I require no aid with my cleansing. Have you had a morning meal?”

  “Before dawn.” Flavia nods. “There are plates of boiled eggs and fruit in the foodkeeper for you, Lady Helena, and Mistress Katleen.”

  “My thanks, but I am behind the bell. I will not stop for a meal. Do let Maman know, she was heading for the kitchen when I came upstairs.”

  A quarter period later, dressed for commerce, slate satchel hanging from her shoulder, Lilian hastens down the stairs. Stefan has the transport ready. She will be in time. Flavia appears at the foot of the stairs, a cloth and a vial in her hands. “Tea, hard-cooked eggs, and a roll.”

  I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian knows she should be grateful, but the hovering presence is disconcerting. Nonetheless, it was well done, and she will be glad enough of it when her stomach is not rumbling by tenth bell. Taking the packed food and the vial, she thanks her guardian, wondering how she might persuade Apollo to set the fallen prelate an alternative contrition.

  »◊«

  Milord appears tired, lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes signaling tension. She doubts the source is the knowledge that Deacon Raleigh is hedge kin. Blooded Dagger fosters a dozen extended kin left orphan, the distant ties diluted with commoner genetics. For all it is an outstanding coincidence, for one of milord’s prominence, hedge kin appear on a regular basis, seeking the safety and patronage of his shadow.

  She suspects what troubles milord is the potential impact on his daughter if Gertrude’s waywardness becomes common knowledge. Many will speculate that Elysia may yield to the same waywardness as her ancestor. The young woman will be subject to scrutiny that is both prurient and cruel. Unlike Katleen, milord’s daughter cannot be tucked away in a Universalist Academy to protect her from spite.

  Lucius rubs his temples, seeking to remove the dark memories that have returned to plague him. Raleigh and the Mercium thefts are the source, the wanton carnage of the pirates far too reminiscent of the wholesale slaughter a decade gone. And then there is Raleigh himself and his unknown agenda. For a man whose commerce is under assault by black raiders, he appears to be in no haste to acquire Lucius’ aid. The free-trader entered the Third System the prior day but halted on Sinead’s World and will not arrive in Crevasse City until late on Fifth Day. With Sixth Day a Settlement Day, Lucius will not be available to meet with his ki
nsman until the following First Day. “What do you think Raleigh seeks on Sinead’s World?”

  “The other half of his genealogy, milord.”

  Surprised, he asks, “Why think you that?”

  “It is what I would wish were I the deacon.” Glancing at her slate, she adds, “He cannot be there to visit the seat of Sinead’s sect. His devotion is to the Fourth Warrior.”

  “But why Sinead’s World?” Lucius scans the genealogy. “Naught here suggests aught of it.”

  “It is possible that Raleigh knows something of his family history that will enable discovery of the man who sired Gertrude’s hedge child.”

  Clever woman. Lucius yields to temptation and grasps her shoulders, taking a brief kiss. The sweetness of her yielding form drives away dark memories far more effectively than aught else. Master desire. He cannot hide in her.

  Stepping away, he pretends not to notice her confusion and turns his mind to Raleigh. The genetic markers of the Five Warriors are known to every healer, medic, and medic’s aide in the Twelve Systems. Lucius’ descent from Socraide is certain, as is the weaker, but measurable tie to Jonathan through Gertrude. It had been a matter of moments for Chin to recognize the Blooded Dagger genetics in Raleigh. However, finding the other half of his genealogy is all but impossible. The foster parents who raised Gertrude’s daughter were not genetic kin to the sire, for there is naught of their genetics in any of her descendants. Searching the genetic databases for data over two centuries gone is futile without a starting point. “Trevelyan’s operatives are following Raleigh’s movements. If what you suspect is true, we will know it. What of the plans to control the deacon’s movements once he leaves Sinead’s World?”

  Eyes bright, Lilian says, “Deacon Raleigh’s transport will experience a series of minor mechanical challenges as it attempts to exit Sinead’s World. Instead of arriving at midday on Fifth Day, it will arrive after dark of night, early on Sixth Day. The deacon will be greeted by solicitous Blooded Dagger servitors, who will escort him to the Sparkling Vistrite and ensure his comfort. Shortly after midday, Seigneur Trevelyan will arrive at the guesthouse to check on Raleigh’s well-being and assure him that Serengeti stands ready to aid him against the black raiders. Until milord can receive him on First Day, the seigneur has arranged for safe escort to conduct the deacon through Crevasse City.”

  It is an elegant arrangement worthy of Trevelyan. Wondering who will provide the escort, he asks, “Malcon and Deidre?”

  “Master Malcon and Rebecca,” she replies, amused by something. “Seigneur Trevelyan’s resources indicate that Captain Raleigh owns a preference for blondes.”

  Lucius barks a laugh. Trevelyan left naught to chance. It is well the arrangements are so thorough. The coming Sixth Day is Socraide’s Cotillion. Lucius is always a guest of honor, but the event is of more importance than usual as Elysia will be attending for the first time.

  Sobering, Lucius says, “I will know what intrigues Raleigh has in play. It is a bit too coincidental that he delayed his arrival to coincide with the gathering of the Nightingale command crew.”

  For the next four sevendays, the Nightingale command crew will be engaged in the first stages of training for the voyage to the Thirteenth System, preparing for what will be another year of activity on Fortuna. “If the deacon believes I will be distracted by the command crew and unable to counter his plays, he will soon learn his error.”

  Sevenday 140, Day 2

  The floral arrangement is off-center. Lilian frowns at the offending vase and makes a minute adjustment. Stalking through the cartel’s reception chamber, alert for aught that might tarnish milord’s honor, she confirms that all is in readiness. The midday meal for the formal introduction of the Nightingale command crew must strike the perfect balance between demonstrating Serengeti wealth and the financial decorum of Bright Star leadership. Sunshine streams through the tenth-storey windows, sparkling on crystal and glimmering on the silver and cobalt flatware. Servitors are at attention by the buffet, prepared to pass trays of beverages and small bites until milord signals for the meal. This day.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, milord enters with Seigneurs Marco and Trevelyan. A moment later, Monsignor Hercules follows with his kinsman, Jarrod Mehta, a Seventh System Militia captain and soon to be the captain of the Nightingale. An imposing man in his late sixties, Captain Jarrod entered the militia as soon as he completed his education. Although his ties to Grey Spear leadership have aided his rise, his service during the pirate actions would have given him opportunity to advance even without powerful kin. Captain Jarrod was an infiltrator, apprehending some of the Seventh System’s worst felons, who escalated their black commerce while the Governing Council was distracted by the pirate actions.

  Although milord would have preferred a captain from Blooded Dagger, it was part of the Bright Star negotiations that Grey Spear have the honor. In the wake of the revelations about Sebastian Mehta’s Despoiler activities, Seigneur Trevelyan reexamined Jarrod but found naught of concern. Lilian suspects that her disquiet is due to naught but the Mehta name. Monsignor Hercules seems well pleased with his cousin, and the ugly warrior has proven exceptionally shrewd.

  Turning from Monsignor Hercules and Captain Jarrod, milord greets the Nightingale’s first officer, a woman with iron-gray hair, a square face, smooth olive skin, a generous mouth, and the black eyes of a Mercio. From a cadet branch, the Blooded Dagger seigneur has served for the past decade in the First System, including a brief time as captain of Serengeti’s First System regiment in the pirate actions.

  Lilian accepts iced green tea and is beckoned by Nickolas to join him and the navigator, another Grey Spear warrior with decades experience navigating the Vistrite supply routes. It is this man who will map the transit to the Thirteenth System and add it to the ten centuries of navigational data controlled by Grey Spear. As with the rest of the command crew, he is fascinated with the notion of the group decision trial and eager to discuss its workings. They are soon joined by Seigneur Thorvald and the Nightingale’s security officer and militia leader, the Iron Hammer warrior chosen by Thorvald. Not yet used to the militia and training seigneur’s acceptance, Lilian is glad to have Nickolas lead the discussion.

  The final three members of the command crew, other than Fletcher, Nickolas, and Seigneur Gwyneth’s protégé, Jasper, are the chief medic, the communications officer, and the chief engineer. The medic is a woman of indeterminate years and serene expression. Lilian is certain that when the woman—a distant kinswoman of Monsignor Horatio—speaks, she will offer the same dispassionate tones as Master Medic Chin.

  The communications officer is a Bright Fire seigneur and kinswoman to Monsignor Sarah of Matahorn. A lovely woman with a lush figure, the communications officer is standing within inches of milord. Lilian is certain the communications officer is nude beneath her decorous linen. Several inches shorter than milord, the woman is offering what Lilian is also certain is an enticing view. Not that it will gain the woman aught. Milord may enjoy the view, but all the Twelve Systems has viewed the visual of milord swirling around Mistress Elysia’s cotillion with Lady Estella in his arms, her feet barely grazing the floor. The magical image was captured by an enterprising servitor with connections in the media and became the most viewed visual in the Twelve Systems for a sevenday. Repressing an odd longing that rises at her recall of the image, Lilian focuses on greeting the chief engineer. The robust woman is close kin to Monsignor Angus, sharing his bright blue eyes but not the unruly mop of hair; her auburn chignon is as smooth and disciplined as her mind.

  At milord’s signal, they move to the tables for the meal, Lilian joining the protégés while the senior officers join milord and Monsignors Hercules and Elenora.

  The command crew has been carefully selected and investigated. All own the skills for the voyage. Nonetheless, Lilian is disquieted. She recognizes her source is distrust of the captain, Sebastian Mehta’s choice. As Monsignor Hercules engages his cousin, Lilian re
presses her discomfort. It is naught but her imagination. Seigneur Trevelyan has examined the command crew thrice. It owns no more substance than Flavia’s obsession with her cleansing products.

  »◊«

  Tossing Lilian’s bra aside, Lucius cups her breasts, enjoying the sensation of the tips hardening against his palms as he pulls her back against his chest. “What troubles you with the command crew?”

  The midday meal was followed by the introduction of the command crew to the Bright Star team. To one not so familiar with her, Lilian’s serene aspect would have been all that is proper. Lucius knows her well. Something disquieted her during the meal and whatever it was had her calling on her consortium. He could not hear what Chrys said when he tilted his slate for her opinion. He has viewed that subtle dance often. The technologist and his apprentice were engaged in a matter of a moment. Nor did he miss the intentional distraction of Rebecca’s bright chatter as she tended to Trevelyan. No one was to pay any note to Chrys and Lilian.

  At Lucius’ side, Rachelle lifted her eyebrows and canted her head toward their Ravens. He has no doubt that Rachelle is even now interrogating Chrys.

  Arching under his hands, Lilian replies, “Milord, I lack certainty.”

  The careful reply indicates she fears maligning one of rank. She should know better by now, but after last month’s lapse with the courtyard covers, she has become overcareful. He slides his thumbs over her peaked nipples. “I do not recall requiring certainty.”

  Lilian trembles under his fingers. Response to his touch or his question? She presses against his groin as she replies, “It troubles me that Sebastian Mehta had a hand in the selection of the command crew, but I can discover no fault, and Seigneur Trevelyan’s operatives are beyond thorough.”