by E G Manetti
“There is no reason to believe that the guild is connected to the reemergence of the Despoilers. For all their ambitions, the guild masters benefit from commerce as usual and revere the Five Warriors.”
Milord frowns. “You would leave this unanswered?”
She is shocked by the very notion. “No, milord. I would set Douglas to it.”
Milord’s eyes widen. “Douglas? Aristides’ former apprentice, Douglas?”
Honor is my blade and shield. “He is well able to sift the nuance of media reports, and if he discovers aught of note, he will draw in Rebecca and Tabitha. If there is a true threat or hint of Despoiler, he will know to take it to Seigneur Aristides and Seigneur Trevelyan.”
Milord’s expression relaxes, and he nods. “It is a good choice. Douglas has the skills, and he has proven he has the initiative to act without direction. With the delay in communications reaching twelve hours during transit, that is wise.”
With milord’s approval, her tension eases. “He is of my consortium and knows the Bright Star code. If aught urgent occurs, we will have a coded alert within six bells.”
“Clever, clever woman.” Milord sheds his towel. In another moment he tugs free Lilian’s wrap.
Sevenday 131, Day 6
Douglas drums his fingers on the archives console, scanning the reviewer, confirming his analysis. Parsing Sixth System media reports for guild influence was not what he expected when he arrived at the cartel this day. He does not lament it. The exercise is interesting and, were he not one of Lilian’s consortium, likely to be given to one with more rank and experience. As it is, combined with his group entertainment tasks, this new assignment guarantees almost daily contact with Seigneur Aristides and the attendant opportunities for advancement. And it is interest in advancement that lures him to the media management seigneur, that and the loyalty forged by the apprentice bond. Naught else. It can be naught else. Apollo is a dynamic and exciting lover; Douglas lacks for naught.
Tabitha slides into the seat next to him. “Do you seek to drum a hole in the console?”
The bright smile and shinning brown eyes offer naught of Sebastian Mehta’s withdrawn apprentice of two years gone. Her abuse at Sebastian’s hands was a far cry from Aristides’ firm but just treatment of Douglas. Until Tabitha changed her allegiance from Grey Spear to Blooded Dagger at her bond proof, Douglas had no notion of Lilian’s machinations. He was not yet a member of her consortium, but that act of compassion cemented his allegiance to the fallen warrior as naught else would. That she seeks his aid with Desperation makes it even more imperative that his analysis be accurate. “Well met. Lilian suspects the guild is active in the Sixth System, and she may be correct.”
Tabitha scowls. “Five Warriors take them. She has had more than enough trouble from that Crevasse.”
“The guild is pervasive. She cannot be faulted for their appearance. It is a regular event in cartel operations. She did well to identify it so early. The media plays are subtle.”
Tabitha nods at the screen. “Show me.”
“The guild thrives by controlling the supply of skilled labor. If skilled labor enters the Crevasse independent of the guild, it is a threat, so they have designed their media plays to lure skilled labor into the guild by promising greater safety, securer positions, and higher wages.”
“Where does it say that?” Tabitha peers at the highlighted streams.
“Think like a miner,” he replies. “This stream here, on the miners injured when loading core. See how it questions the level of skill of the loaders?”
Tabitha’s lips form a line. “They do not say it but they imply Serengeti uses unskilled labor for skilled work. It is a double threat, first that the miners are at risk from Serengeti practices and second that Serengeti seeks to replace skilled workers with unskilled, which threatens the miners’ positions. Sly. Very sly.” Tapping the console, she scans through the other streams. “It is but the one article? Why have you noted these on stellar exploration? With the hull launch, such streams are everywhere.”
“Read them again. And note how they focus on the most recent expansion, that into the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems.”
“They are favorable to the cooperative societies, are they not?” Tabitha’s mouth twists. “Very guild-like societies. Is there aught else?”
He shrugs. “These are from the last month. I will review the last few seasons and monitor new streams. Is it enough for you to investigate who in the Crevasse might be feeding the guild details on Crevasse accidents?”
“I can investigate those involved in the core-loader accident. But accidents are common. I doubt the guild did more than exploit an opportunity. Beyond that, I can alert Seigneur Trevelyan’s Sixth System operatives to watch for any suggestion of guild sympathy or activity. If you discover further media plays, send them to me. How dangerous is this?”
“At the moment? It is not.” He taps the console, archiving his analysis. “Guild activity is pervasive and as you voiced, it may be naught but opportunism.”
Tabitha rises. “What you will send to Lilian?”
“That the signs are subtle and that we are investigating. As yet, there is naught to cause alarm.”
»◊«
Stepping to the side, Lilian waits while a handful of sweaty passengers exit the training facility. Milord’s will continues to be exceptional, allowing her extra bells of slumber or respite. As a result, she is bursting with energy. With fifth-bell chimes a quarter period gone, the chambers will be emptying, providing Lilian the opportunity to attempt a heavy workout. Although the Fire Sword training facility is half again the size of the Shimmering Horizon, there is no free-boxing engineer’s mate to match her in sparring. The day gone, she settled for working the forms and using the auto-racer. This day, she wishes battle.
“Lilian!” Clarice waves from the gallery. Mounting the steps, Lilian finds not only Blythe with Clarice but also an unknown woman with crew insignia on her training tunic. Prepared to combat both Clarice and Blythe at once, she is delighted to learn the unknown woman is trained in Jonathan’s Discipline. With Clarice having Mulan’s and Blythe Rimon’s, the trio will provide the challenge she desires.
A half bell later, she hits the mat for the second time, twisting away and springing to her feet before one of the three women can pin her down. Dodging a blow from the crewwoman, she springs at Clarice, sending the smaller woman tumbling. Blythe launches a kick that fails to sweep Lilian’s feet but lands a blow to one thigh. Staggered, she raises her left arm to block the crewwoman’s assault. Clarice is up and attacking. Using Clarice’s momentum, Lilian tosses her into Blythe and continues to spin, going low to topple the crewwoman to the mat.
The chime sounds. Lilian releases the crewwoman and offers her a hand up along with her gratitude for the exercise. Breathing hard, sweat pooling at her waist and beneath her breasts, Lilian rubs her thigh where it throbs from Blythe’s kick. Yielding the match square to the next group, the four women make their way to the main level and the corner is given over to refreshment. The elaborately gilded bar and shelves provide towels, water, juice, energy bars, and an impressive array of lotions and ointments in a myriad of colored glass vials.
Grabbing a water vial, the crewwoman disappears to return to duty. Accepting water and towel, Lilian declines the personal care products. Leaving Blythe and Clarice to debate the merits of various oils, she wanders the chamber, sipping water and cooling as she assesses the matches. In the corner opposite the refreshment, she discovers milord and Seigneur Herman dueling with long swords. Lilian is impressed by the intensity of the Iron Hammer warrior. Fifteen years milord’s senior, the legalistics head has cunning to complement his skill with arms, although it is insufficient to overcome milord’s greater skills and reach. As milord swings the sword, his muscles ripple and flow with grace and power, the sight replacing her heat from exertion with the warmth of desire. The match chime sounds and the warriors put up their swords. Milord’s eyes meet hers, ho
t with desire.
»◊«
The strapless gold velvet is ideal to showcase the variegated blue Mercium pendant. Gathering her hair into a topknot exposed dangling eardrops. Checking the time, Lilian is pleased to note that this once, they will not be overly late to arrive at a captain’s reception. That her eyes are heavy could be the bell, not the languor of spent passion. That the snug corset rubs tender nipples in a pleasant fashion will be known to her alone, as will the equally pleasant soreness in her sex. Content with her cosmetics, she steps into the matching pumps. Twisting the warbelt to display the conservator’s seal, she passes into the salon as milord emerges from his chamber. His eyes are warm with approval and remembered passion, his heavy silver-gray silk tunic and black trousers tailored to display his powerful form. Desire and something more powerful lances through her. Do not. Dropping her eyes, she prays milord did not note her fascination. I am the sum of my ancestors.
Milord’s fingers skim her throat and bared shoulders. “The Mercium is an excellent choice. It will attract useful attention.”
I am the foundation of my family. All is well. Milord turns for the door and she follows, two guards flanking them as they emerge. The passage to the observation lounge takes but moments. The refreshment buffet has been augmented with two others and servitors circle with trays. As soon as milord appears, the captain breaks off from her conversation and comes forward to greet them.
The sixty-something woman is a member of the Golden Horizon’s controlling cartouche and one of the leaders of the innovative commercial interest. Of a height with Lilian, her movements hold the grace of well-toned muscle, while her warm personality does naught to mask her strength of will. Her once-obscure cartouche is a cadet branch of the luxury transport cartel. Lilian estimates that within two generations, this branch will be in a position to bid for preeminence.
Dismissed after greeting the captain, Lilian seeks out her friends. She has circled once, seeking the telltale of gold garb in the less desirable seating, when Nickolas hails her. Rising, Chrys motions her over, where she finds Clarice also seated with the protégé. There is no question; milord’s protégé has changed from the rigid, conventional, and rank-conscious warrior of her first seasons within the cartel.
As she approaches, Chrys pulls out an empty seat facing the void and Nickolas hails a passing servitor. I am the sum of my ancestors. Steeling herself to settle into the waiting seat, Lilian is beyond relieved to be forestalled by Mrs. Zdenka. The bodyguard dislikes the sight line. It will be better does Lilian have Clarice’s seat between Nickolas and Chrys, permitting Clarice the view of the void and giving Lilian the option to view the chamber. While Chrys fills her glass from the wine chilling on the table, she selects small bites from the trolley, including several that are unfamiliar but appealing when described by the servitor. Mouth full, she is unable to greet Blythe, who pulls up a chair next to Clarice.
While Blythe examines the trolley, Lilian decides the shellfish and Fortuna artichoke canapés have an unappealing aftertaste. Pushing aside the plate, she reaches for her wine glass to cleanse away the flavor.
Blythe eyes the half-empty plate. “What are the yellow bits?”
“Shellfish and Fortuna artichokes. I do not recommend them; it is an ill pairing.”
Nodding her thanks, Blythe bypasses the tidbits, selecting more familiar options from the cart while Chrys pours her wine. With a bright smile, Blythe launches into what she has discovered about the transport intrigues.
The captain is conducting a liaison with a broad-shouldered propulsion engineer in his forties. It is rumored that the fussy man with thinning hair in conversation with Seigneur Kemeha is the primus of the black raider society that dominates decadents dealing in the Fourth and Seventh Systems. He claims to be travelling with his wife and daughter, but in fact, the twenty-something woman is not his daughter, but his mistress. All three are resident in the same suite.
Lilian is impressed. If Blythe were not intended for analytics, she could join Rebecca in gathering intelligence for Seigneur Trevelyan. She also wonders at the primus’ purpose in visiting the Third System, where one of Gariten’s former associates controls the decadents trade. Tiger Sylvester is a dangerous man to challenge. He may even be the one who betrayed Gariten and brought Lilian and her family to ruin.
Carrying a piled plate, Fletcher squeezes in another chair. “And that luscious brunette in conversation with Seigneur Rachelle is an art dealer from an ancient but declining warrior line. She represents a number of collectors with interests in the art of the Ten Systems period.”
With a knowing glance at his friend, Nickolas asks, “What lovely object of three hundred years gone have you acquired with that information?”
“A silver and amethyst slate stand,” Fletcher admits with a grin. “It was a most pleasant negotiation.”
Considering the transport and its guests, Lilian suspects the art dealer is about to expand her area of excellence to include the Neo–Ten Systems artists. Completing her meal, Lilian accepts her duty and circulates among the gathered guests.
Milord is seated in the plush sofa at a central table with Seigneur Marco and several others, including a svelte blonde who will be in his lap does she lean any closer. Milord’s smile has the woman all but panting as he leans in to speak in her ear. With a blush and a shrug, the woman eases back, her fluttering eyelashes conveying her offer is not withdrawn. Milord’s eyes flash to Lilian’s. Something hot and sharp flickers before disappearing under his relaxed expression, and he turns to Seigneur Marco. She is not required.
After a half period she is drawn into discussion of third and fourth century shrine design with a scholar and his apprentice who are spending the green season in the Third System. The Garden Center Warrior Ring structures are no more than four hundred years old, but they are built on ancient foundations. There is a great deal of debate in scholarly and canonical circles as to the location of the first of the warrior rings. Metricelli Prime, Socraide Prime, and Rimon Prime all claim the honor, but conclusive evidence is lacking. The scholar is planning to use the Ancients-hunting discipline of archeology to decipher the mystery.
“Conservator.” Seigneur Amaranth interrupts the discussion.
Knowing she cannot refuse the diminutive warrior, Lilian breaks off the discussion, promising the scholar she will give his contact information to Apollo. Adelaide’s Prelate will be fascinated and quite willing to lend his aid.
Waving her half-full glass of blue liquid, the seigneur demands, “Have you a match? I would witness that toy employed.”
“I regret, Seigneur, I have discovered none on the voyage who may offer a match,” she replies with true regret. She is well exercised due to the aid of her friends, but she yearns for thorn combat, even be it chalk.
“Pity that.” Amaranth empties her glass and peers at Lilian’s throat. “Nightingale Mercium is it?”
“Yes, Seigneur.”
“Light is no good. Not likely to get another opportunity anytime soon.” With the brusque words, Amaranth strides to a well-lighted seating arrangement, disbanding the lower-ranked occupants with a grunt.
Amaranth drops into one of the vacated chairs. “Sit. Sit. Display the pendant.”
As Lilian settles into the chair next to Amaranth, she releases the pendant into her hand. Mrs. Zdenka and Chrys appear to flank her. The substance is valuable, and the location is vulnerable.
With a sharp glance at Lilian’s protectors, Amaranth reaches out to examine the texture and the weight of blue crystal.
“Remarkable. Heavy. Is it faceted in such manner for commercial purpose?”
“Facets for encoding are different,” she replies. “More information than that is privileged to Blooded Dagger.”
“Yes, yes, I suppose it must be.” The seigneur holds up her empty glass to a passing servitor and it is replaced with another. Does she continue, the seigneur will end up befuddled by the deceptive beverages concocted with Ten Systems–period re
cipes. The heavily laced fruit juice is far more intoxicating than wine. “I am surprised Monsignor Lucius did not wish you to don it for the Bright Star reception or governor’s gala. It would have bedeviled Monsignor Horatio nicely.”
What says she? Any suggestion of dissension within the governors of Bright Star is dangerous. Lilian accepts the wine offered by the servitor but does not drink. “I assure the seigneur, Monsignor is on the most cordial of terms with all of the consortium partners. I cannot imagine why the seigneur would expect otherwise.”
Amaranth snorts, eyes twinkling. “Nicely spoken. Might serve with others, but you do not fool me. Horatio Margovian has not forgiven Lucius Mercio for seducing Rimon’s nightingale from Jason. It is not likely that Monsignor Lucius has forgotten Monsignor Horatio’s interference in his wedlock design. Nightingale for the SEV and that remarkable rock around your neck. Have always admired that young man. Monsignor Lucius, that is. His father would be proud.”
Wedlock interference? Searching her memory, she struggles to interpret the garbled discourse. Jason Margovian? Monsignor Horatio’s youngest brother. In his late fifties, he recently attained the rank of preeminence of the First System Medical Enclave. “If the seigneur pleases, what is Monsignor Jason’s connection to Lady Estella?”
“You are too young. Old scandal. You would not have been much more than a babe. Horatio had it all arranged with Estella’s father. She had refused to make a choice of her own. There were none more eligible than Jason. They even liked each other.” Amaranth takes another gulp of blue liquid. “Lucius was protégé on Socraide Prime. He was arrogant, ruthless, and determined. Within a year he had seduced Estella into wedding with him in defiance of both their families and to the ire of Broken Blade. It was so much fun. The Twelve Systems were agog.”
Amaranth’s eyes are a bit unfocused. An effect of the beverage, or lost in fond memories? “Horatio did his best to have Lucius ostracized. Did not succeed. Rimon’s nightingale was both too well loved and too well feared. Nor was Blooded Dagger to be taken lightly. Not the force they are today, powerful enough. Remarkable pairing. Nightingale. Have not been this entertained since they wed.” Amaranth blinks at three sets of enthralled countenances. With a smile, she closes her eyes and settles in her chair.