by E G Manetti
“Patterns within patterns?” Milord’s smile is content. He strokes over her bound hair and halts.
Honor endures. Lilian ducks her head, revealing the small black object lodged at the base of her skull. As milord pulls it free, it releases a short length of dark red hair. Heavy with confining potion, the stiffened piece swings forward to Lilian’s ear. Pushing back the wayward lock, Lilian says, “I knew it not until I released the nape ties for my bath. It was an ember. Katleen trimmed the ends, but it will be sevendays before it grows sufficiently to be bound.”
“Lilian, you are singed from ankles to ears, and what concerns you is a damaged tress?” Catching her chin, milord tilts her face to his curious gaze. “You are not customarily given to vanity.”
Honor acts as duty commands. “It is unruly.”
Milord’s eyes widen and then sparkle with humor. His lips lower for a kiss and her hair is forgotten. It ends all too soon. Returning the comb, milord says, “Trevelyan awaits you at Militia Central. The Nightingale command crew and half a dozen Despoilers require interrogation.”
Her appearance restored with the aid of milord’s well-appointed freshening closet, Lilian collects her slate bag from the desk, milord’s attention on his techno grouping. As Lilian reaches the scarlet threshold, milord’s voice halts her. “Visit the master medic before attending Seigneur Trevelyan.”
»◊«
Lilian picks at her salad, wondering why she bothered to purchase it. For all the violence, danger, and terror of the maze battle, in its aftermath she hungered, devouring a far larger morning meal than is her custom while answering to Seigneur Trevelyan and Apollo. In the aftermath of interrogating Sadico’s navigator, however, the bite of the iced tea is pleasing, but otherwise her stomach rebels. It is but second bell after midday and her chance to shower periods distant. Her use of Seigneur Trevelyan’s stricture waiver to visit the Fountain Café was due more to her need for solitude than a meal.
At least these Despoilers are few, and the number of skilled interrogators has grown. While Lilian assisted Seigneur Trevelyan in the navigator’s interrogation, Malcon and Seigneur Thorvald interrogated the security officer. To her shock, the governor’s new militia colonel joined Captain Signy in interrogating the chief engineer. The man who three years gone sat impassive for the duration of her protocol review greeted Lilian with formal courtesy. “Well met, Adelaide’s Thorn. Your service to the Shades is exemplary.”
There will be no challenge to Lilian’s trial proof from that quarter. It was the only pleasant moment since departing Master Chin. The Grey Spear navigator proved as foul as any Despoiler Lilian has encountered, offering little resistance to interrogation and corroborating Jarrod’s identity as Sadico and his own role as a pirate.
Monsignor Hercules remained for the entire four bells, his sallow skin turning gray as the foul revelations continued. On the morrow, they will interrogate the navigator further. Among the lessons from the aftermath of the battle of Serengeti is that their knowledge will build, and repeated interrogations of multiple subjects will reveal inconsistencies that can be used to break open the whole of the foul nest.
At the next bell, she must return to Militia Central and join Trevelyan to begin the interrogation of the Blooded Dagger first officer. Dropping her fork, Lilian picks up the tea and turns to her slate. A half period evaluating Desperation operations will do more for her than food.
“Mistress Lilian, how fares Mistress Katleen?” Fletcher takes the chair opposite Lilian’s. With the café all but empty, he need not take too much care in his speech.
Setting aside her slate, Lilian replies, “Katleen is well, Master Fletcher.”
At some point in his actions the night of the Inversion, Fletcher received a shallow fireburst score along the right side of his head. The white sealant is stark against his tight black curls. Although she would like to inquire, it would be effrontery.
“How goes it with you?” Fletcher asks. “I had no notion our adversaries are so very foul.”
Somehow, the moon racer has learned of her duties as an interrogator. Until she can determine how far he is within Despoiler security-privilege, she will remain cautious. “I am well enough. These are few and the unpleasantness will be brief.”
Although not an interrogator, Rebecca attended the initial bells, her skills at assessing a suspect’s true nature setting the agenda for the day. Other than the navigator and the dead communications offer, only the security officer is likely a Despoiler. The chief engineer from Leonardo, the Matahorn medic, and the Blooded Dagger first officer are most likely sound. Nonetheless, they will be interrogated, and Rebecca will return on the morrow and assess them again.
By the Five Warriors’ Festival, the soundness of the Nightingale command crew will be determined. After the festival, interrogation of the eight of the Despoiler forces that survived the battle will commence. Unless they reveal Serengeti collaborators, Lilian’s duty will be complete. It will become the duty of the Shrines and the Third System’s governor to pursue the evil forces beyond Serengeti.
“What of the Nightingale?” Fletcher inquires. “The command crew was over a year assembling and months of training are lost.”
Stunned, Lilian regards the warrior who is expected to be the first of the Twelve Systems to pilot a flyer in the Thirteenth System. Focused on eradicating the horror of the Despoilers, she has given no thought to how the Nightingale would launch with as much as half of its command crew slain or executed. “A moment, Master Fletcher, I beg a moment.”
Snatching up her discarded slate, Lilian begins to tap. It is pointless. She cannot build a model or assess a pattern. “The slate is inadequate. I require my worksite.”
“Do not let me keep you from it.” Fletcher starts to rise.
Shaking her head, Lilian leans back in her chair. “Not this day. I must return to other duties. There is almost a year before the launch. There is a means. I will discover it.”
»◊«
Fastening his tunic collar, Lucius exits the freshening closet to find Trevelyan and Thorvald waiting by the windows. At his entrance, they break off their low-voiced conversation and come to attention. Although neither warrior has voiced it, both are aware that the Inversion melee was due to a failure in their security protocols. That the governor’s militia, the shrines, and Matahorn confirmed the measures is mitigation, but not exoneration.
Leaving them standing, he takes his time collecting his jacket from where it is draped over the sofa and the slate from his desk. He discards the notion of having them explain while at attention before his desk. His residual anger at the threat to his family and Lilian is not cause to humiliate men who have proven both loyal and competent.
Taking a seat at the conference table, he motions them to join him.
Trevelyan and Thorvald exchange glances. At Trevelyan’s nod, Thorvald speaks. “It was an error to mingle the shrine guards, Serengeti’s militia, and the governor’s militia. The three groups were not well known to each other, and those in the governor’s uniforms were separated from their officers.”
Lucius leans back in his chair, considering. “Are you voicing that those in the uniforms of the governor’s militia were imposters?”
“Five of the six,” Thorvald replies. “A corporal newly promoted from the Southern Continent provided uniforms and weapons and allowed the other five past the garden wing check point during the Inversion. He was killed in the melee, so we cannot question him.”
The Southern Continent. They knew Damocles and Sebastian’s foul sect had compromised the Crevasse supervisors. If they have infiltrated the governor’s militia, then he must take another look at Serengeti forces.
“Malcon has begun a second review of all Southern Crevasse militia,” Trevelyan says in response to Lucius’ unspoken question. “The governor is doing the same with her forces.”
Which leaves the servitors. “Did the corporal also admit the servitors?”
If twenty servitors and
five false militia all entered from one checkpoint, Thorvald and Trevelyan were lax.
“No, Monsignor,” Thorvald says. “The servitors came with the extra staff for the event. It is a service used by all the shrines, and all had passed background validation.”
For event servitors, those checks are naught but documented shrine devotion and a lack of a criminal record. It should have been sufficient, since none would have been allowed within the pavilions. “How did they get fire-pistols past your security measures?”
Trevelyan’s jaw clenches. “They did not. We know not the source of the weapons, only that they were secreted in the gardens and collected under the cover of the Inversion. We swept the gardens for intruders, but not for weapons.”
Black-market weapons are available, but expensive and difficult to acquire. Lucius would not have expected a score to be hidden in the gardens. “What of the alcove guards? How did they miss a score of pistols being hidden in the gardens? What of the gardeners?”
“The gardens are open to the public three days each sevenday,” Trevelyan replies. “Access to the quarters is blocked, and security is focused on the safety of the visitors and protecting the gardens from vandalism. It would not have been difficult to mingle with the green-season crowds and deposit the weapons a few at a time. As for the gardeners, as with all others, they are hard put to keep up with the green-season growth. All that was needed was to place the weapons in areas recently tended. They would remain undisturbed for at least a sevenday.”
Demon shit. “They have been planning this for a while.”
Thorvald’s eyes narrow. “We suspect since they failed at the battle of Serengeti. This day’s interrogations should yield much.”
Lucius is not satisfied. “What of the Despoilers in the maze?”
Thorvald and Trevelyan exchange another glance. Again, Thorvald speaks. “They provided the pyrotechnics. The chemicals and Vistrite controls on the ignition devices would have masked the presence of weapons. We cannot be certain, but we believe several rocket casings held the rifles. It is the most likely case, but there is naught left to examine.”
Ingenious. And with pyrotechnics so popular this season, they have become commonplace. Even as they worried about incendiary devices beneath the pavilions, neither Estella nor he considered the pyrotechnics a threat. When Sadico ran for the maze, Lucius thought it a mistaken attempt at escape. That it was an attempt to complete the plot raises another question. “The owner of the enterprise?”
“It was the man Lilian killed,” Trevelyan says. “The one she referred to as ‘the cadaverous man.’ ”
The one Lilian said was giving Sadico orders. “What have you learned?”
Trevelyan glances at his slate. “Second-level elite. His family has had commerce interests in events and entertainment for three generations. In the past two decades, he branched out into the Sixth and Seventh Systems. Investigation is preliminary, but we have reason to believe his legitimate enterprises are a cover for an unlicensed weapons trade.”
“Aught else?”
Trevelyan shutters his slate. “Not as yet. We are investigating his kin and associates. As we know, not all criminals are Despoilers, but Despoilers tend to criminal acts.”
Stretching out his legs, Lucius considers his seigneurs. The Inversion melee was as well planned as the assault on Serengeti. Unless he wishes to live confined to cartel and mansion, there is a limit to what can be done to protect him, and neither man could have foreseen this plot. However, there is the matter of Sadico himself. “How was Sadico able to infiltrate Bright Star?”
Trevelyan’s fingers interlock, betraying his frustration. “I know not. His genetic matter confirms he is Jarrod Mehta, raised in the Seventh System, educated at Order’s Citadel militia institute. A distinguished veteran of the Seventh System Militia before joining Grey Spear logistics as a transport captain. Although it will be another sevenday in confirmation, we have found naught to indicate falsified records. It is impossible he is Sadico, but his actions in the melee confirm the free-traders’ testimony.”
Lucius steeples his fingers, his mind seeking an explanation for the inexplicable. “Sebastian Mehta was the Grey Spear preeminence and a Despoiler. It is not impossible that Captain Mehta was also a Despoiler.”
“It is impossible to be in two places at once, leading the pirates in the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems while also serving the Seventh System Militia.”
“I thought his record suggested infiltrator activities.”
“Aye, Monsignor,” Trevelyan says. “Criminals in the Seventh System did not take a holiday during the pirate actions . . .” Trevelyan’s fingers unlock, and he reaches for his slate. “Long periods out of touch with command while infiltrating would make an excellent cover for forays into the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems. The navigator served with him, and it is Jarrod’s seal validating his militia records. It will be difficult to break the seal on Seventh System Militia records, but it is not impossible.”
15. Free-T
raders and Festival
Within the Twelve Systems, lotteries are considered as vile as decadents dealing. The notion that a small investment, no more significant than the price of a beverage, can result in the wealth of a warrior is beyond abhorrent. Wealth and status are earned, often by generations of effort. To have such estate acquired in a moment of random chance defies order.
False lotteries are routine and considered fraud. The perpetrators provide numerous small rewards to garner massive subscriptions before the principals disappear into the Hebrides. They are a nuisance and readily eradicated. True lotteries are rare since the sponsors can be convicted of acts of anarchy. Although for lottery winners, no crime is attached. The lottery winnings are considered no different from other successful wagers even though the amounts are much greater. ~ excerpt from Twelve Systems Commerce, an instructional text.
Sevenday 144, Day 4
In the predawn light Lilian welcomes the cool stone beneath her knees, enjoying the sharp scent of Adelaide’s smoke blended with the crisp morning. She has no notion how Apollo managed to replace her destroyed combat garb on such short notice, but it is not lost on her that the quality rivals the training garb Seigneur Trevelyan purchased for Katleen.
Adelaide’s Wraiths may be anointed at any bell. It is not required they greet the dawn and the arrival of the Shades. Yet Seigneur Trevelyan and milord were adamant: Lilian will make her ritual observances early and return immediately after to Katleen’s house. The crowds of the Five Warriors’ Festival would provide excellent cover for an assassination attempt. Lilian does not regret milord’s will. A dawn ring walk followed by a quiet day in Katleen’s house is appealing.
Combat and three days of interrogation have taken their toll on Lilian. She does not regret milord’s will. Rebecca’s assessment proved sound. Other than Sadico and the dead communications officer, the navigator and security officers were both Despoilers. In addition to confessing his role as a pirate and corroborating that Jarrod was Sadico, the navigator admitted that their piratical activities were sponsored and protected by Sebastian Mehta.
The security officer was not a pirate. He was corrupted by Sadico after joining the command crew. He had little to offer they did not already know, confirming that the Inversion attack was meant to destroy the Bright Star leadership and leave both Matahorn and Serengeti in disarray. Neither navigator nor security officer yielded aught about how the Despoilers intended to take control of Bright Star in the wake of a successful plot.
There is no evidence that Sebastian Mehta was involved in the current episode. Had Sebastian remained Grey Spear monsignor and the attack succeeded, he would have acquired control of Serengeti, but confined by the Shrines, he would achieve naught. They suspect that Jarrod continued Sebastian’s plan for purposes of his own very near to the ones Lord Gilead described to Monsignor Horatio.
A dozen Serengeti have been named as Despoilers by the captives, but the investigators are well familiar wi
th Despoiler attempts to implicate the innocent. Malcon will lead the investigation, employing all due care. If Lilian’s aid is required, it will not be for some time. Of the eight servitors and false militia guards that survived the melee, all are under interrogation by the governor’s militia. Lilian and Tabitha will review the transcripts for aught of note, but otherwise she is done with the interrogations.
The sun touches the gallery, warming her face. Rising from her knees, Lilian begins the ritual.
I am the sum of my ancestors. She moves into the forms of attack. Muscles stiff from kneeling resist, then soften. When Apollo anointed Lilian almost five months earlier to aid her in the first set of Despoiler interrogations, only Stefan and the alcove attendants witnessed the rite. This day, Lady Helena, Seigneur Trevelyan, Katleen, Lilian’s consortium, and Simon attend, along with Lord Prelate Gilead and Sinead’s Keeper Waiman.
I am the foundation of my family. Changing to the forms of defense, the gestures gain force and power. Milord dare not be present and draw undue attention, and although the protégés would have been welcome, it would have been awkward for them to join the apprentices in a ring walk.
Honor is my blade and shield. Malcon, Joyce, and Rodolfo patrol Jonathan’s Shrine, leaving Stefan stationed at the entrance to the alcove.
Honor knows not fear. The fluid movements of avoidance fill her with serenity. Now that the Grim Twins are revealed, Lilian has discovered that, relieved of the burden of subterfuge, the two operatives have sharp minds and a dry sense of humor. Neither has voiced it, but Lilian is certain they look forward to her bond proof. Field operatives, they have chafed under the demands of worksite duties.
Honor endures. She is ready. Reaching the stairs, she meets Apollo’s eyes, the warmth of his regard familiar and reassuring. Thanking Adelaide and the Five Warriors for returning him to her, she begins the descent.
Honor acts as duty commands.
»◊«
Raleigh stands in the alcove, flanked by Caoimhe and Bran, although the latter grumbled at the early bell the entire walk from the Sparkling Vistrite. Raleigh is a man of casual faith, but the events of the past season have set him wondering. As Lilian descends from the gallery, a nimbus of light surrounds her black form, striking fire from the gold belt resting above her hips and below the slash of crimson that holds her thorn, a warning of the dire nature of Adelaide’s Wraith.