Nightingale

by E G Manetti

  Passing her wrap to a servitor, Lilian trails milord into the reception, where he dismisses her before greeting the highest-ranked Serengeti seigneur on Fortuna, Seigneur Okoth Custennin of Grey Spear. Seigneur Okoth introduces milord to several others, including an attractive woman in a violet gown with a plunging neckline who steps as close to milord as she can without pressing against him.

  Turning aside, Lilian wanders through chambers. Seigneurs Marco and Rachelle are engaged in conversation that includes Chrys, while Nickolas is in discourse with Blythe. At the sight of Lilian, both seigneurs break off their conversations and move to greet milord, dismissing their apprentices to greet Lilian.

  Blythe’s short-sleeved, gold, brocade frock is tailored to her long voluptuous length. Its deep V-neck frames a sapphire pendant while a narrow skirt reaches two inches below her knees, indicating Seigneur Marco has a broader view of skirt length than milord. Twin sapphire studs sparkle in Blythe’s ears that were absent during Captain Gehrig’s reception. Seigneur Marco is pleased with her. Chrys’ silk suit is in the same pale gold as the shirt he wore on the transport. Around his waist is a narrow chain of red, yellow, and white gold. Seigneur Rachelle is also pleased.

  As soon as they greet each other, Blythe launches into speech. She is fascinated by the construction of the warrior club. She is delighted by Lilian’s friend, who is very entertaining. She is impressed by the daring of Lilian’s gown. She sounds almost as silly as Pippa.

  “Blythe,” Lilian interrupts. “Have you indulged in more of the local coffee?’

  “Yes. Seigneur enjoys it. I thought to compare the guesthouse offering to that of Mistress Pippa’s café. I do believe the café’s is better, although the guesthouse version is nice. It lacks the spice. I enjoyed the spice.”

  Lilian considers the other woman with concern. Blythe has been making excellent progress in schooling her demeanor and speech. At the moment, she is almost as silly as Pippa. “I do not believe you should indulge in the local coffee. It appears to have you overstimulated.”

  At Lilian’s words, the blue eyes widen. “Oh no, I sound as silly as—I beg pardon, Lilian, I did not mean to imply, that is—” With a snap, Blythe closes her mouth and takes a deep breath. “Thank you. I had not realized the source of my excitement. Will wine even out the effect?”

  Recalling her experience with coffee, she says, “It may, although food would be well. Something heavy.”

  Glancing at the service stations, Lilian notes they are ready but untouched. Milord and his seigneurs are accepting beverages, but none have taken food, so the apprentices may not. As if summoned by their need, servitors begin to circle with small bites. Determining that Seigneur Marco has a glass in his hand and has waved off the food, Blythe accepts a glass of pink wine and several cheese savories. It will be ill for her does her lord discover her scatteredbrained and silly.

  “Mistress Lilian, well met.” The voice from her right turns Lilian’s attention from Blythe to the pleased gaze of Master Graham Tudorian. In his seventies, Master Tudorian is of average height and husky build with dark, wavy hair beginning to gray, a long face with a sloping jaw and thin lips, and brown eyes that are set close together over a beak nose. With fifty years’ experience in the Vistrite distribution channels and demand cycles, he was able to provide Lilian with the information she needed to uncover Damocles’ Mercium smuggling. Lilian made certain that both milord and Monsignor Hercules knew of his contribution, resulting in his elevation to master associate.

  Delighted to renew her acquaintance with the informative master associate, Lilian makes Chrys and Blythe known to him. Master Graham is fascinated by the potential for both SEV1 Mercium and Flexible Vistrite in advanced transport controllers. A pleasant half period is spent in discussion of the technology while the reception chambers fill.

  Once the seigneurs settle to enjoy the meal, Lilian and her friends are pleased to accept Master Graham’s invitation to join him and the local Serengeti associate master and archive mistress. The conversation moves from commerce to the hull launch and the inscription race trial.

  Lilian and her fellow Ravens are silent during the discussion of odds. Neither Blythe nor Chrys is under the strict prohibition that constrains Lilian, but neither will encourage a conversation that could lead her into difficulty. When queried by the associates as to Fletcher’s abilities, Lilian replies, “Master Fletcher does well in the Third System moon races. Better information may be gained from Monsignor’s protégé, Nickolas. I understand he has done well in his wagering.”

  With Graham leading, the Ravens follow as the associates seat Nickolas. As they pass, Seigneur Rachelle beckons Chrys to a group of research and development associates. Milord is occupied with Seigneur Okoth and two others that Lilian knows to be important suppliers in the region. Blythe moves off at a hail from several media management associates she knows from her visit earlier in the year.

  Natalia Custennin, Seigneur Okoth’s daughter and heir, waylays Lilian before she can join another conversation. Once, on Mulan, Natalia and Lilian had been friends. Natalia was quick to dismiss it as mere acquaintance at the Fortuna summit a year gone, wishing to minimize contact with Lucius Mercio’s tainted doxy. The distancing did not surprise Lilian, or even cause much distress. Even before Fenrir’s kidnapping and the battle of Serengeti, Lilian had fought too often for survival to be troubled by shunning. Unlike the prior year, Lilian anticipated Natalia’s presence. There would be any number of Serengeti, Matahorn, and Leonardo retainers and commercial allies arriving on Fortuna in the next two days to attend the hull launch. There was no question Okoth’s heir would be present.

  I am the sum of my ancestors. Eager to learn more of Fortuna media management from Blythe’s acquaintance, Lilian has little interest in speaking with Natalia. She cannot imagine why Natalia would seek her out, but she dares not be rude. It will not benefit the cartel for milord’s conservator to be engaged in a quarrel with Seigneur Okoth’s heir. This day. Of course, the reverse is also true; Natalia must maintain civil discourse with Monsignor Lucius’ conservator. Her father must have sent her.

  I am the foundation of my family. The conversation is brief, consisting of platitudes related to weather, the entertainments scheduled for the morrow, and the inscription trial. After a quarter period, courtesy has been served and Natalia does not object when Lilian makes an excuse and goes in search of Blythe and her friends.

  »◊«

  With a final tug, Lucius releases the gold velvet bodice from its moorings. Unanchored by the confining lingerie, the fine fabric yields to gravity, slipping from Lilian’s breasts to gather at her waist, halted by the warbelt. Deep rose satin and lace rises from the mounded velvet, encasing her torso and veiling peaked, dark rose nipples.

  As he reaches to tug the imprisoned velvet free, Lilian forestalls him. “If milord pleases.”

  Her eyes luminous with desire, she detaches the velvet from metal, the delicate movements causing the fabric to shift and swirl with promise around her hips and thighs until it whispers to the floor.

  With the elegant grace that never fails to enthrall him, she steps free of the velvet puddle and then collects the frock and drapes it over a nearby chair. Her tousled hair tumbles down her back, free of the pins that litter the floor of the salon. Pulling the brilliants chain from her neck, she pools it on the seat cushion and then turns, clad in naught but rose lingerie.

  The bustier is not exactly as Lucius had imagined. The color is deeper, almost the tint of Lilian’s nipples. Satin panels provide the sides and back, and the front is almost entirely lace except for a thin strip of satin in the middle. The strip of satin is echoed in the matching brief that barely covers the top of the red curls. Pulling her to him for a kiss, he savors her mouth while exploring the variances between satin and lace, rigid confinement and soft pliable skin. Satin and lace-encased breasts tease against his torso as Lilian wraps her arms around him in eager response.

  The lingerie is a puzzle.
He releases the kiss to consider the rose confinement. His questing fingers have yet to locate the fasteners. The satin strip in the front. It yields its secrets easily, falling away when the last seal is breached. Laying Lilian back across the bed, he traces the red marks left by the compression of skin. Then he begins to nibble.

  7. Adelaide’s Wraith

  The founders of the warrior sects were devoted retainers of the Five Warriors and scholars dedicated to preserving the history, teachings, and disciplines of the Five Warriors and Adelaide. As the shrines rose to prominence and became the spiritual center of the Twelve Systems, these devoted scholars began to specialize, choosing to focus on the warrior disciplines, canon and lore, or rites and sacred rituals. Over the centuries, shrine service expanded to include healers and seers. Initially, prelates were selected from the descendants of the warriors who founded the sects, prelate status achieved through decades of devotion. As the Twelve Systems expanded, shrine servants were drawn from all segments of society.

  In the modern era, decades of service is not sufficient to achieve prelate status. One must be also be a consecrated warrior or master of either canon or discipline. Those who aspire to the elite ranks of the shrine keepers and the prestigious warrior rings require both consecration and mastery of either canon or discipline. ~ excerpt from The Foundations of Order, a scholarly treatise.

  Sevenday 130, Day 7

  The dim chamber echoes with Lilian’s soft footfalls. The rustle of wings echoes in the cavern. A flock of birds swoops out of the shadows, dark phantoms in the gray light. They circle closer, wings rustling. A wave of black flows past, flooding into the distance, where light glows. Her thorn is in her hand. She leaps after the flock, her training boots soundless against the stone. The flock is a dark, wheeling blur against silver. The light increases in strength, blinding her. She reaches a hand to shield against the light. Blinking . . .

  Awake. Upright. Her thorn in her hand.

  Adelaide’s grace. Lilian lowers the blade, rubbing sleep from her eyes with her free hand. This once, the dream holds no mystery. Adelaide’s warbirds are a harbinger of her match with the alcove discipline master. Swinging her legs to the floor, she settles the warbelt at her hips. I am the sum of my ancestors.

  »◊«

  The bay sparkles in the bright morning sunlight when Lilian enters the salon to find milord waiting. For all the bright sunshine, it is a chill day and milord has dressed accordingly in midnight-blue trousers and a heavy silk tunic in silver blue that clings to his torso. For a moment, Lilian’s fingers tingle with the desire to test the texture of the knit over the hard wall of chest.

  Milord’s eyes narrow as he rises, scanning her from crown to toe.

  I am the sum of my ancestors. Lilian’s battle garb for the coming trial reveals more flesh than will please him but is required for the rite. The normal sleeveless battle tunic has been replaced by an abbreviated version with a low scoop neck and back, ending just below her breasts and baring her midriff. Her warrior queue has been doubled onto itself in a club, since the abbreviated tunic will not hold it. The loose black trousers are the same as those worn to battle Hannah. A crimson leather belt with a black metal buckle marks her as Adelaide’s Thorn, milord’s gold warbelt tucked beneath her trousers. In addition to her cloak, Lilian carries the black face mask and her slate satchel, in which her thorn rests.

  Milord traces her midriff with one finger, a question in his eyes.

  “The marks of the challenge are to be clearly visible, milord,” Lilian says. “If I were not bonded, the trousers would also be abbreviated.”

  “It is well you chose such an early bell. I do not enjoy others gazing on what is mine.”

  I am the foundation of my family. “I doubt the discipline master will accept the result without examination of my legs and buttocks. It need not occur publicly.”

  After a moment, milord nods and shrugs into his duster. “It is time to depart.”

  At milord’s words, Lilian dons her gloves and wraps the length of black around her head and shoulders, the length of black concealing the warbelt.

  Outside the suite, Mr. Stefan falls in behind them with Mr. George in the lead. It occurs to Lilian that Mr. George is not on a standard shift schedule. Does milord leave the guesthouse, Mr. George attends him. She will discover from Rebecca if it is at Seigneur Trevelyan’s insistence or the driver’s.

  It will take almost as long to transit to the warriors’ ring as it does to race to it, the hills of Fort Rimon resulting in circuitous transitways. Sufficient time for milord to interrogate her about the prior evening’s reception. Once they are seated in the transport, he asks, “Were you able to discover what Seigneur Aristides wished?”

  “Yes, milord. The local media management associates are not as well versed as those of Crevasse City, but they are skilled enough. That the Celadon Group has long wished to overset the mineral monopoly held by the Euphrates Alliance is also well known. Newton’s kinship to the governor, less so.”

  Milord’s fingers steeple, his gaze not on the passing cityscape but turned inward. “The ploy creates difficulty for Bright Star and the consortium partners. Celadon cannot believe we will not act against them in this. There is more to this intrigue.”

  Lilian ponders milord’s words for a moment, considering the possibilities. A pattern begins to form. “If milord pleases.”

  Milord’s gaze lifts. “I am listening.”

  “Both Celadon and Euphrates have expressed interest in investing in the consortium. It cannot be that Celadon would risk being excluded from Bright Star for the remote benefit of this intrigue.”

  “But Euphrates would gain much if Celadon were to draw both the governor’s and Bright Star’s ire,” milord says. “Clever.”

  “Yes, milord, and truly, the lunatic Newton is but an annoyance to Bright Star. There is little risk to Euphrates if it were to be made known the intrigue is theirs, not Celadon’s. Should milord discover the intrigue, as milord has, is it such a severe matter to exclude Euphrates were it of benefit to Bright Star to have the cartel participate?” she concludes.

  “No, it is not.” Milord’s eyes narrow. “This is not the work of the Euphrates media management seigneur. She lacks the imagination. Lilian, are you able to discover from Mistress Pippa who within Euphrates so excels at media management?”

  Why would milord wish this knowledge? Of course. Milord is both devious and clever. “Seigneur Aristides could benefit from having such a skilled retainer on Fortuna.” Milord will turn the Euphrates tool against them while strengthening his own house. The intrigue will not go unanswered. “I believe I am able to do milord’s will in this.”

  »◊«

  Alighting from the transport, Lilian dons the black face mask. This once, it is not only a matter of milord’s will. Face covered, swathed in the black wrap, hands covered in crimson leather, no hint of flesh reveals that the slender black figure is aught but a shadow. Following milord into Jonathan’s Shrine, Lilian pulls the thorn from her satchel. Affixing the blade to her belt, she hands the satchel to Mr. Stefan. When they reach the alcove entrance, Lilian takes the lead, becoming Adelaide’s enforcer.

  Four figures are gathered by the effigy, a man in the robes of Adelaide’s Keeper, two acolytes, and a tall wiry woman in her early fifties. Adelaide’s Mistress Flavia has two inches on Lilian but not much mass. Her pale skin is almost a true white, and the tightly cropped blue-black hair, long square-jawed face, thin lips, and pale blue eyes under black brows give the appearance of a large bird of prey, or mayhap a reptile. Something dangerous and cold-blooded. At the sight of the faceless black figure, an acolyte gasps. This is not the routine competency trial they expected.

  With the black mask obscuring her features, Adelaide’s Thorn becomes Adelaide’s Wraith. By design, the wraith appears formless, faceless, and sexless. Lilian will not speak. She is the physical embodiment of Adelaide’s anger. She owns no voice of her own. She is the physical embodiment of Ade
laide’s retribution. The sight is intended to instill fear and has for a millennium.

  At a flicker of motion from the wraith, the acolyte who gasped rushes forward to accept the black wrap, revealing the bared midriff and crimson belt. The other acolyte races off to the alcove preparation chamber, returning with a small black bundle of cloth.

  As Lilian removes her gloves and takes up her thorn, Flavia replaces her battle tunic with the same abbreviated version as Lilian’s. The discipline master’s trousers hit the floor, leaving only the black training thong in place. The black raven wing of Adelaide’s mark is filled in with the crimson of the discipline master.

  The acolyte who collected Lilian’s satchel and wrap collects Flavia’s discarded garb while the other brings forward the small chest that holds the blade guards, thin polymer sheaths that will cover all but the tips of the thorns.

  In an extended bout, the sheath can tear and reveal a live blade. In a thirty-minute trial, blood will only be let by the thorn tip. Although it is possible to drive a killing blow with the exposed tip, these are civilized times. The disobedient prelate will be disciplined, not destroyed.

  As Adelaide’s weapon, Lilian does not place shrine coins at the effigy. She is the offering. Thorn sheathed, she enters the warrior square. A moment later Flavia vaults into the square, launching a direct thrust at Lilian that would have gutted her had it made contact. Flavia will give no quarter. She will not meekly accept rebuke. If Lilian lacks the mastery to defend herself, she is inadequate to Adelaide’s will.

  At the violent attack, Stefan and George surge forward. Lucius flings out an arm to halt them. They may not interrupt now that the sacred rite has begun. Inwardly, he rages. Apollo goes too far. If Flavia can blood Lilian, let alone cause serious injury, it is a sign that Adelaide supports Flavia against the will of Apollo. It is alcove politics at its most dangerous and Apollo has placed Lilian at its center.