by E G Manetti
»◊«
Shrugging into his jacket, Lucius twitches the cuffs into place, noting a crease at one shoulder. Adjusting the lapels minimizes the crease but does not eliminate it. Frowning, he reaches for his slate. Leaving his personal servitor on Metricelli Prime was inconvenient, but having Sabri underfoot in the close quarters of the Shimmering Horizon and Serenity Guesthouse would be worse. He should have commissioned Marco to find him a residence here two seasons gone. As it is, when he returns next, he will have a house sufficient for his family and retainers.
At the sound of Lilian’s voice, he turns. She is not at his chamber door. Her voice comes again, soft and indistinct. Is she having an insight? Reaching the adjoining door, he glances about her chamber. She is by the reviewer, garbed for commerce, her hair restrained. “It is naught, Lord Prelate. None could have known that Flavia would take such action.”
Apollo? Lucius glides into the chamber. She must have the vocals set to private. He will need to be closer to hear the prelate.
“It seemed Adelaide’s will. Mayhap, it would have been less cruel to take the woman’s life.”
Not close enough. He cannot hear Apollo but if he moves closer, he will be noted.
“I did not find the duty distasteful. That is not the challenge.” Lilian’s posture is stiffening. Emotion is leeching from her voice. Apollo is distressing her. “I beg the Lord Prelate, understand. I cannot. I cannot serve Monsignor’s will and the alcove. I will not accept a renewal of the anointing.”
Lucius does not need to view Lilian’s face to know that her stoic mask has descended. It is an expression he has come to detest. He would halt this now, but she must deny Apollo’s spiritual authority. He cannot do it for her.
“Six sevendays or six minutes, it matters not. The bond is not proved until it is proved.” The straight back is rigid, the shoulders squared. “Lord Prelate, it can be no other way.”
Several minutes pass. Just as his patience is reaching its limit, Lilian speaks again. “Yes, Lord Apollo, I will consider acceding to your will when the bond is proved.”
More silence and then, “I do not wish to displease Adelaide’s Prelate in this, truly I do not.”
The shoulders loosen, but tension remains. “My thanks, Prelate Apollo.”
Fading back into his chamber, Lucius considers the conversation. Whatever else has come of the Flavia mess, it has given Lilian the basis to refuse Apollo and protect her bond proof.
»◊«
The route to the Leonardo Society follows the bay road and then twists through the hills into the commerce district. Milord is blessedly silent, leaving her to her thoughts. The interview with Apollo was as painful as she anticipated. From the first, the prelate has struggled to accept the constraints of her bond, preferring to ignore it when he can. After her lapses the day gone, Lilian knows she dare not allow her focus to waver. There are too many who wish her to fail. Too many scrutinizing her every word and gesture for a cause to indict. Which does not make Apollo’s disappointment any less difficult to bear. Had she mentioned her recurring dream of warbirds, it would have been worse.
This day. I will not fail. Turing her gaze to the passing park, she examines the bushes and trees, noting that a third are barren. She tries to recall what the foliage was like on her last visit. She had not realized it was new growth and now she wonders at how they will appear when the foliage is mature. When her respite allows she will check the Fortuna natural history archives.
The transport turns, and they enter the commerce district, where the architectural style has little in common with Crevasse City. Here the tallest buildings do not exceed a dozen storeys, although the positions on the hills give some the appearance of greater height. The Leonardo building is cut from the pale gray stone used for much of the city’s construction. The entries and windows make heavy use of rounded arches. Exterior balconies and patios on many of the levels hold containers of feathery green and blue that will become spilling vines and blooms in another month.
Within the lobby, Lilian is careful to mask her amusement as Seigneur Rachelle and Chrys discover what she already knows, that the interior is far larger than the façade indicates. The building is long with an interior courtyard that rises through the building. At each level galleries surround the courtyard and are hung with plants that have retained their lush foliage and blossoms.
The Leonardo Society Associates’ Hall is half the size of Serengeti’s and is almost full to capacity. Milord and his seigneurs; Monsignor Horatio and the Matahorn Seigneurs; and all three Leonardo monsignors, Angus, Coyote, and Camilla, are arrayed in the front rows. Protégés, associates, and apprentices fill the rows behind.
Taking her seat, Lilian examines the Matahorn contingent. Monsignor Horatio is unchanged, Beneath the bronze dome of his shaved head, the strong, leonine features hold a habitually severe expression intensified by the dark brown eyes and thick black brows that imply a frown of displeasure even when the face is relaxed. The new seigneur to Monsignor Horatio’s left is Fenrir’s replacement. From the profile in the Serengeti archives, she is competent and honorable. Mayling, Fenrir’s former protégé, is seated several rows back among Matahorn’s Fortuna retainers. Although cleared of involvement in Fenrir’s fell dealings, Monsignor Horatio was unwilling to keep the compromised associate in Matahorn Headquarters on Socraide Prime. With Lucius’ and Angus’ assent, Mayling was sent to Fortuna to prove herself on Bright Star while under the strict supervision of the local Matahorn interests.
Seigneur William, Monsignor Horatio’s heir, is as charming and diplomatic as ever, and every bit as shrewd as his sire. Fairer than his father, with more refined features, Seigneur William’s gray-flecked blue eyes and wavy chestnut hair are a maternal legacy from Monsignor Horatio’s former consort.
Once all are assembled, Monsignor Angus rises. A short, blocky man, he has the appearance of a man in his thirties, not his fifties. The sandy brush of hair sticks out wildly in all directions above a round, pale face marked with freckles and lit by warm brown eyes that snap with energy and intelligence.
This day. With the hull launch but a day distant, the attention of all three consortium partners is on Fortuna. Seeking to fill this First Day with aught that would hold attention, Seigneur Aristides suggested it was the perfect time to demonstrate the Bright Star code, the abbreviated symbol-driven messages that can traverse the beaconless expanse in a fraction of the time of regular alerts. Now that it is about to be demonstrated, Lilian wishes they had chosen a more obscure time and place.
I will not fail. Following Nickolas to the front of the chamber, she takes her place with her back to the reviewer, her slate in her hand. The rest of the code team fans out on either side, only Nickolas able to view the reviewer. On Metricelli Prime and Socraide Prime, those within Bright Star privilege view through visual streams.
I will not fall. It was Nickolas’ notion to adapt the apprentice notes form to a private, high-speed communication. The design is Lilian’s. As is the design of the demonstration.
This day. At Nickolas’ signal they begin. Milord makes the first selection, displaying on the reviewer one of two score alerts that are possible communications between the SEV1 and Bright Star. Nickolas taps out a short sequence and dispatches it. It appears on Lilian’s slate. Her fingers fly as she renders the message from the code. To her right, Fletcher’s fingers tap his slate. To her left, Monsignor Horatio’s protégé, Basil, holds his breath.
There is only this day. Lilian sends the alert to the display.
Restrained applause. She was correct, but it was only a single message.
Beyond Fletcher, Mayling balances on her toes while to Basil’s right Chrys flexes his shoulders. Every ranked member in the chamber will have a chance. The demonstration team has no way of knowing what message will be chosen or who will receive it for translation. That is the point. Once trained in the Bright Star code, anyone can compose a coded message and translate it.
Now that the
protocol is proven, the seigneurs’ fingers fly across slates. After the initial message, Nickolas takes his place in the line, back to the reviewer. None of the team know if the next alert will be an alert to code or one to translate. After a quarter period, the preset messages are exhausted and the applause far more enthusiastic.
Stepping back to the reviewer, Nickolas invites the consortium to create new messages using the phrases from the preset messages. No additional phrases can be used until they are admitted to the code and given symbols. Silence follows his invitation and then the tapping of slates. In moments, the code team is translating and decoding. An occasional wave of laughter signals an error, but they do not cease or turn until the period is done.
At Nickolas’ command, the code team turns to review the informal test. Three score messages and their decoded translations are displayed. Lilian scans them for the source of mirth. One is due to a hasty transcription that rendered hard fought as hard food. The others are instructive. One message urging haste was coded as urgent and decoded as disaster. Another used triumph and was decoded as festival, and the third, water shortage, became thirsty.
The code is close, so very close. Another season of refinement and it will be all they require.
“Bright Star!” thunders through the chamber. Turning, she finds the chamber has risen in approval. At the front, milord’s eyes glow with approval as he joins the chant. “Bright Star!”
»◊«
Sweat streaming as he pounds out another mile on the auto-racer, Chrys keeps an eye on Lilian as she works through the forms of Adelaide’s Discipline. He is not the only one. Mrs. Zdenka has picked a strategic location to monitor the Serenity training chamber while keeping watch over Lilian. At the auto-racer next to him, Blythe slows to a walk, her breath coming fast and hard. Other than the three Ravens, there are but a handful of associates in the chamber. Monsignor, all the seigneurs, and most of the associates are engaged in cartouche receptions for the evening. Those who are not have taken advantage of the quiet evening to enjoy the city.
Lilian chose well when she selected this time for her match with Karin. Lilian pulls out of the final movement and sheathes her thorn. Halting the auto-racer, Chrys jumps off. Swinging by the refreshment cart, he grabs two water vials, carrying one to Lilian.
Pippa’s voice sounds from the doorway. “. . . well appointed. Not as large as Leonardo’s but well equipped. There is Lilian, by the windows. Is that necessary? I do not think assassins lurk in Serenity Guesthouse.”
Entering the chamber, Sinjin scans the area before stepping aside and allowing his sister to enter. He must be serving as her guard since Karin will be engaged with Lilian. For all her flaws, the domineering Lady Pallas is protective of her daughter.
“These chambers are quite nice,” Pippa says, skipping up to Lilian. “I am surprised they are not more crowded. Better for us though. There is only the one square. Karin is quite eager to match the Thorn who destroyed a discipline master with a breath. Of course, we know you did no such thing, but it is a wonderful story. Oh, water vials. I am parched. May I have one?”
For all her madcap ways, there is something endearing about Lilian’s friend. Gathering three more vials, he offers them to the new arrivals, careful not to notice Pippa’s blatant admiration of his bared chest.
Lilian and Karin enter the square and Chrys turns his attention to the match. He regrets he could not witness Lilian discipline Flavia; he will not miss a moment of this challenge. The acrobatic, tumbling style of Mulan is far different from the focused violence of Hannah’s free-boxing. It matters naught. Lilian’s form flows past, over, and around Karin with unchecked grace. Chrys has viewed Lilian in reverence to her forms, in battle, and in trial. He knows that she is learning, not challenging. For forty minutes the two women spar, neither determined on victory, both focused on learning how to counter and defeat the other’s discipline. In the end, Karin steps free. The Mulan acolyte bows to the disgraced apprentice. “Adelaide’s Thorn, my thanks for the instruction.”
»◊«
A loose tunic added to his training garb, Chrys seeks a table in the café while Lilian takes leave of Pippa, Karin, and Sinjin. Although training garb is a bit casual for the Serenity café, none seem to care. It is eighth bell and there are but two tables in use, allowing him to claim one visible from the lobby. Buoyed by the triumphant code demonstration, the day flew by, even though the tasks were routine. While he was engaged with Aidan and the engineers, Lilian disappeared into the main conference chamber with Monsignor for the financial reviews and the latest round of negotiations. Until this moment, they have had no chance to compare notes.
Lilian drops into a seat, waving Mrs. Zdenka to the next table. “How was the after midday?”
Although the café is not protected by Serengeti and Bright Star security-privilege, Chrys and Lilian are skilled enough to converse while offering little of use to the monitors. “Master Aidan was beyond pleased. The blue crystals exceeded all expectations. You can confirm the production quotas.”
Lilian will need to send an alert to the Western Fisheries facility to begin full production of the blue SEV1 Mercium.
“The newer crystals will achieve the original objective. But they have set Master Aidan thinking. He will need some months to resolve his thoughts.” It is wonderful news. The flexible Vistrite will enhance the SEV1 Mercium and meet the original requirement to support propulsion at half again the fastest speed in the Twelve Systems. Its unique properties have sent Aidan in a new direction that he will need months to explore.
Lilian’s bright smile at his report lifts Chrys’ spirits but do not diminish his concern. The deep circles left by the battle and Despoiler investigation are faded but not erased. Her face is not as drawn, suggesting she has regained some weight, but the tension that had eased over the course of the stellar transit has resurfaced in the wake of her confrontations with Flavia and Newton. In the quiet of the evening, he dares an intimate question. “Lilian, are you able to slumber?”
Her eyes widen, but she replies, “It is well, Chrys. I sleep.”
Chrys picks up his tea. Lilian will reveal or not as she decides.
Rolling her glass between her hands, she says, “I dream of birds flying overhead. It disturbs me not.”
“Why voice it, does it not disturb you?”
“It is that they do not cease that troubles me,” she replies. “I expected them to leave me after the alcove challenge. Yet the birds continue.”
The alcove challenge. Lilian does not believe in direct Shade intervention, but she cannot deny that her insights and seer’s visions were critical to the discovery and defeat of the Despoilers. Unlike Lilian, Chrys is not skeptical at all. Lilian has defeated too many powerful adversaries for it to be coincidence or luck. He knows not why Adelaide has selected his friend, but it matters naught as long as she survives. “You believe the birds have come at Adelaide’s will.”
“Truly, I know not.” She shakes her head in confusion. “If they are messengers from the Shade, they are beyond vague.” Putting down her glass, she meets his eyes. “Prelate Apollo wishes to renew the anointing at the Five Warriors’ Festival.”
Jonathan’s justice! Is the prelate deranged?
Eyes dark with distress, Lilian says, “I cannot accede to the Lord Prelate’s request. I cannot do Monsignor’s will in all matters while also bound to the will of the alcove.”
Shades’ grace. In this he can aid her. “You must continue to refuse Prelate Apollo. There are many cautionary tales about apprentices who failed to prove their bond in the final days through lack of attention to their master’s will. You may take no risks in this. It is not Monsignor alone who determines the validity of your bond proof.”
“Yet the birds will not cease.”
Chrys is certain that whatever the Shade’s purpose, she wills Lilian’s survival. “Adelaide Warleader has not aided you in your Trial by Ordeal only to have you risk it now. Either the birds are not of the
Shade, or they serve another purpose.”
At his words, Lilian’s eyes brighten, and she nods. “Once again, you are brilliant, and I am a fool. The events of the past month have me starting at shadows. The dreams could be no more than worry that birds are once again about to infest the eaves of Katleen’s house.”
With Lilian’s words Mrs. Zdenka speaks from her place at the next table. “The periods advance. It is well past ninth bell.”
The polite words are a warning to both Chrys and Lilian. It will not do for either Lucius or Rachelle to return from the Blooded Dagger reception to find their apprentices still fouled from training.
»◊«
Hair tied up on her head, Lilian works moisturizer into her limbs, savoring the sensuous slide and heady citrus fragrance of the Serenity’s products, far finer than the basic oil she has at home. Her conversation with Chrys dissolved the heavy knot that had lodged in her middle after her interview with Apollo. If the dreams are of Adelaide, they are not an instruction to risk her bond, and if they are not, then it is but her fears taking shape in her dreaming mind. Honor knows not fear. Chrys’ wise counsel has confirmed her decision, but Apollo is not one to release his purpose so readily. Honor endures.
Her hand hesitates over the sea-green wrap and reaches for the royal blue. Milord has viewed her at least thrice in the sea green. A change is in order.
“Leave the wrap,” milord says from the door, the scarlet robe loose about him, revealing his well-muscled torso, strong calves, and bare feet.
Releasing the wrap, she reaches for the tie to release her hair.
“Keep the tie.” Milord’s eyes hold warm appreciation and a hint of promise.
Following milord through his chamber, she is surprised when they bypass the freshening closet, having expected milord wished a bath. There is a secondary door to the plant-graced balcony. The patio stones are warm beneath her feet, alleviating the chill of the air. The barrier she believed marked the end of milord’s balcony is, in fact, a privacy shield.