by E G Manetti
“Tiger, I am becoming impatient.”
Tiger swallows tea and shrugs. “The woman claims that she was sent by Adelaide’s Thorn to wait upon the will of Adelaide’s Prelate.”
»◊«
It is all Lucius can do to contain his expression as he outlines his suggestions for Elysia’s recognition cotillion. With each word, her eyes grow wider, and she twitches in her seat, attempting to maintain the dignity of the young woman she will be in two sevendays. Although a part of him misses the plump child who would run into his arms, he cannot but be proud that she is developing into a lovely young woman. Her golden locks are darker than her mother’s and her warm skin tones are a blend of his and Estella’s. She has his eyes, but otherwise, in face and form, she is the image of her mother as a young woman. Her developing curves do naught to mask the strength and coordination from her martial arts training. Finishing his recounting of the illusionist, he says. “What think you of pyrotechnics for the finale?”
Dignity abandoned, Elysia flings herself from her place, nearly oversetting her water glass. Ignoring the near mishap, she throws her arms around his neck. “Papa, it is beyond fabulous.”
Holding her close, Lucius revels in her love, her bright spirit, and her strong constitution. With Chin’s regular treatments, none of his children will suffer Estella’s fate. Looking over Elysia’s shoulders, he notes that in his absence, his spouse has shed more weight, her graceful appearance ethereal. Estella’s lips curve into a smile, her eyes glittering with purpose. “I adore pyrotechnics. With the illusionist, it will be the finest cotillion of the season, as befits the daughter of Blooded Dagger.”
Estella has been designing the play for this event since the onset of the prior green season. In the early years of wedded life, she designed the most entrancing entertainments, which were imitated throughout the Twelve Systems. Her daughter’s recognition as warrior and woman among the elite is an event she has anticipated since well before Elysia’s birth.
Spearing a piece of meat, Cesare grins. “Brilliant, Father. Something exciting for a change.” Approaching his eighteenth year and with more female cousins than he can count, Cesare has been doing his duty at cotillions since he passed his competency trial at fifteen. Where his sister is the image of her mother, Cesare is Lucius reborn except for his lighter olive skin and Estella’s sapphire eyes. “Not that I object to the dancing, but one more martial arts display or Five Warrior reenactment and I was like to nod off.”
Pulling free of Lucius’ embrace, Elysia straightens her gown. “If you nod off at my cotillion, I will stab you.”
Estella’s hand is cool as it settles over Lucius’ fingers. “I doubt there is much chance of that. Although it may become a challenge as the season progresses and illusionists and pyrotechnics become the fashion.”
Taking her seat, Elysia turns to her brother. “Do not speak of this to your friends. It will ruin the surprise.”
Cesare nods. “And we do not wish one of the earlier cotillions to hear of it and preempt the surprise. Fear not, your secrets are safe.”
»◊«
Under Seigneur Trevelyan’s watchful gaze, Katleen passes the pale pink, ceramic wand over containers holding an evening meal the spymaster procured from Mr. Hidaka’s. The seigneur added poison to one of those containers to train them with the device. Along the outer edge of the wand, a series of small green lights twinkle. With shocking abruptness, the elegant implement emits a loud bark and the lights flash yellow. The small crock of root vegetables contains poison.
Even though she knew it would occur, Lilian starts, as do Maman, Mr. Stefan, and Mrs. Zdenka. One by one, Seigneur Trevelyan has called them into the kitchen to learn the use of the poison detector. Setting aside the device, Katleen places the offending container in the waste management unit, setting it to incinerate and toxic disposal.
At the seigneur’s nod, both militia guards fill a plate and disappear back into the house. It lacks but minutes to seventh bell after midday. Lilian waits until the others are settled and then rises. Custom and stricture require that she present her battle trophy with an honorable warrior as witness. With Trevelyan present, she can avoid a shrine presentation. “Maman, Seigneur, if you please, I have something of import.”
At Maman’s smile and Trevelyan’s nod, Lilian pulls the amber seigneur’s signet from her pocket and kneels before her mother. “Lady Helena Faesetili, matriarch of the Faesetilis and Sinead’s Seer, in honor of our family, I offer you a defeated enemy.” Raising her right palm, she reveals the signet. “Know that with this offering, the honor of the Broken Blade Cartouche is untarnished. It has been yielded by Monsignor Horatio and it is offered at the behest of the Margovian heir, Seigneur William.” Bowing her head, she finishes the ancient ceremony. “I pray you find my service to the line of Faesetili worthy.”
Helena closes her hand on the signet. “Rise, my daughter, Adelaide’s Thorn. You have done well. The Shades are pleased.”
Katleen leans in as Lilian reaches her feet. “A signet? Whose? Why would the Margovians give it to Maman?”
Lilian moves to her place. “Benmyn Empire offered foul insult to Monsignor Lucius’ conservator at a Bright Star reception. It could have resulted in damage to the consortium. Monsignor insisted on appropriate restitution. I am not a warrior but Maman is and thus the appropriate recipient of the battle trophy.”
For all practical purposes, Helena’s warrior status has been recognized by two of the most powerful cartouches in the Twelve Systems, Broken Blade and Blooded Dagger. As Lilian was Adelaide’s Thorn at the time, it has also been recognized by Adelaide’s Alcove. It matters not to Lilian or Katleen—their Gariten blood bars them from ever being warriors, but should Helena have another child, her warrior status will transfer to the child.
“The goad?” Trevelyan asks. “You defeated the goad?”
“Monsignor was enraged when he understood Benmyn’s role in my protocol review and the implied challenge to His Preeminence,” Lilian replies, piling greens on her plate.
Trevelyan flashes a dark smile. “There are none left from your protocol review who will challenge your bond proof. The governor’s newest colonel will endorse it, and the others are either disgraced or bought. Well done.” Trevelyan raises his glass. “To the destruction of all those forces that would overset the Order of the Twelve Systems and the Balance of the Universe.”
Sevenday 132, Day 4
At the sound of eighth-bell chimes, Lucius swivels away from his techno array, his gaze locking on the scarlet door. Chin reports that Lilian and he are cleansed of the poison. He will not be satisfied until he examines her. As the door opens, he rises and rounds the desk. Lilian enters, her carriage erect, the loose swing of her shoulders signaling her well-being. At his abrupt appearance before her, the gray eyes widen and she stutters to a halt before landing against him.
Cupping her face, he traces the sharp cheekbones with his thumbs. Her silken skin is cool, but not unusually so. She is a bit pale, but there are no shadows beneath the eyes that sparkle up at him, her lips are a delectable shade of rose. Lowering his head, Lucius samples the sweet softness, a hint of mint teasing his tongue.
Master passion. It is but the start of the day and they both have commerce duty. Pulling back, he notes that her gray eyes have been become heavy and her cheeks hold a hint of blush. Pleased at her reaction and his self-restraint, he settles back into his chair, drinking in the sight of her strong and healthy form as she launches into the routine status report. The poisoning was but a temporary setback. His designs for the Fortuna voyage have succeeded. The signs of strain and exhaustion that have marked her since the discovery of the Despoilers have disappeared, replaced by bright energy.
»◊«
The Mercium lab is humming with activity and yet seems oddly empty. Glancing at the sword mounted on the long wall, Lilian acknowledges it will be some time yet before she ceases to search for Irina in the experimental chamber beyond the glass windows.
Chrys rises to greet her, his eyes scanning her, no doubt seeking signs of poisoning. “Are you well?”
“Well met,” she replies, touched by his concern. “Naught ails me. The master medic has cured the effects.” Reaching into her satchel, she pulls out three vials and hands them to Chrys. “I beg pardon for the delay. Thrice I meant to give them to you on the Fire Sword and then was distracted.”
Each vial contains a handful of dark purple crystals, samples from the depths of Fortuna’s three oceans. Rarer and more expensive than those found in coastal waters, they were a gift from Karin in gratitude for the match with Adelaide’s Thorn.
With a pleased grin, Chrys holds the containers to the light. “This one is so dark it nears black. This other holds a hint of red.”
At his delight, her spirits lift, and her lips curve. What funds Chrys does not send to his family for educating his siblings he spends indulging his curiosity in matters that are of no interest to cartouche or cartel. She knows from Rebecca that his chamber in the associate quarters is half buried in tubes and analytic devices.
Hanging her satchel over the chair back, Lilian grasps her slate. “Do you learn aught of note, I would know of it.”
“Of course.” Chrys tucks the crystals away and joins her. “I have the latest projections on the flexible Vistrite research. As yet, we have not succeeded in creating larger spheres.”
The lack of progress is disappointing but not unexpected. Settling into the task, she revises the budget to cover the next round of trials.
»◊«
Lilian frowns at the archives reviewer. The guild activity on Desperation has not abated. Instead, there has been an increase in their media plays. Turning to Douglas and Tabitha, she asks, “Why now? After the sabotage and disaster with half the refinery closed would have been a better time.”
“It is possible the investigation forestalled the activity,” Tabitha replies.
In the wake of the refinery disaster, Trevelyan’s operatives were both overt and covert in pursuit of the saboteurs and then any who may have been involved in the Despoiler cult led by Damocles and Sebastian Mehta.
“Or they waited until the furor subsided,” Douglas says. “Without the excitement of the investigation, their plays receive more attention. “
Lilian nods. “Mayhap both. The media plays are subtle.”
The guild is too clever to openly attack the cartel. Instead, their voice can be heard in discussions of a shortage of skilled labor, the coverage of commercial success in the cooperative societies of the Eleventh and Twelfth Systems, and media streams on common incidents in the Crevasse implying they are the result of unskilled labor attempting skilled work. More media reports tabulate missing mine workers and suggest that they are abandoning the Crevasse for better opportunities elsewhere. Together, the media plays support guild claims that the miners and refiners will be safer and better rewarded under the guild.
“Subtle and insidious,” Tabitha says. “As yet, I cannot link these reports to a specific source or track it back to an existing guild.”
While Serengeti protocols and strictures can retard the development of guild societies, the cartel cannot eliminate the rhetoric or indict those who voice it. To eliminate the guild, the cartel must identify the leadership and prove that it has attempted to establish a competing commerce interest within the cartel and using cartel resources.
She glares at the reviewer. “The Despoilers are subtle and insidious. You have found naught linking them to any of these accidents?”
Tabitha shakes her head. “Happily, no. The investigations revealed the standard causes: inattention, faulty equipment, unfortunate happenstance.”
Making a note to review the maintenance schedule on the faulty equipment, she considers the larger issue. “I dare not wait until the actions are more visible and indictable. By then, the destructive leanings will be well rooted in the Crevasse.” She turns from the reviewer to Douglas. “We require a Bright Dawn Horror.”
Douglas blinks in confusion and then grins. “A believable and lurid media fable that will indict the guild as a force of anarchy.”
Looking between them, Tabitha asks, “Will not the guild be quick to challenge the fable?”
“Of course,” Douglas says. “But it need only hold until the Warrior’s Festival, long enough to halt the momentum of the current guild campaign. By then, the combination of circumstances that created a fertile environment for the guild will have diminished.”
»◊«
Luck of the First. Lucius shutters the wall reviewer. Malcon’s report could not be timelier. He had intended to seek out Apollo and make his displeasure known. That Apollo is within the cartel and demanding speech simplifies matters. Rising from the sofa, he turns for the scarlet door as Apollo blows through it. “Monsignor, you must insist that Lilian renew the anointing. Only you have the authority to compel her in this.”
The man is deranged. Lucius will do no such thing. He remains enraged that the Adelaide sect leader sent Lilian into a death match. “Find another to exact alcove discipline. You will not endanger her again. She is not to be made a pawn in alcove politics.”
Apollo halts midstride, his eyes blazing. “Endanger? I would protect her.”
Master anger. He takes a breath and steps back, leaning against the sofa back. “She is in danger of assassination. The odds managers who underestimated her face ruin when her bond proves. Threats from armed and unruly prelates will not be added.”
At a loss for words, Apollo whirls away and paces to the window. Lucius waits, wondering if Apollo will have the grace to acknowledge fault.
Turning to face him, Apollo’s expression holds not contrition but anger. “Are you so selfish you would see her dead rather than yield even a grain of control?”
“What say you, Prelate?” Lucius pushes away from the sofa, rage flooding. “I did not send her knowingly into a death match. You are a meager warrior if you cannot order your house without the aid of one overtried and disgraced apprentice. You are unworthy of Adelaide.”
“You dare?” Apollo strides forward. “How often has Lilian risked her life to protect your cartouche and cartel?”
Stung, Lucius towers over the shorter main. “You overstep.”
Apollo’s mouth opens and then closes. His expression calms and he steps back. Turning, he braces his hands on the back of one of the conference chairs. “Lucius, I beg you hear me. I love the girl and would do naught to bring her harm.”
Releasing the chair, he turns to face Lucius, his expression holding naught but sincerity. “I set Lilian on Flavia for Lilian’s sake, not mine. I am well able to discipline the alcoves.”
The mad whirlwind is difficult to turn from his purpose, but there is no doubt he cares for Lilian. “Explain your reasoning.”
“As Adelaide’s Thorn, Lilian is permitted to defend herself unto the taking of a life,” Apollo says. “As an apprentice, she is a great deal more constrained.”
It is true enough. As Lucius’ conservator she has some latitude, but it is tenuous and limited by complex stricture and custom. The rank of Adelaide’s Thorn offers broader protection.
Apollo continues, “The rank of Adelaide’s Thorn will only protect her if it can be proven she is in true service to the Shades.”
Lucius is incredulous. “You do not consider her destruction and investigation of countless Despoilers true service to the Shades?”
“Yes, but we dare not reveal it. Another act was required. Flavia’s judgment was more successful at garnering media attention than I could have hoped. Would you so readily discard what Lilian won at great risk?”
Anger subsiding, he considers the matter. To attempt the life of an apprentice is one matter. She is forbidden weapons except for a small personal blade. The odds favor the assailant. To attempt a proven soldier of the Shades, one who may defend herself to the death and is able to do so, is another matter. Nonetheless, he is hesitant. “Lilian’s final sevendays of appren
ticeship and trial will be scrutinized in minute detail by those who wish her to fail. Any suggestion that she has failed in her sworn obedience to me and the apprentice bond could ruin all.”
Apollo’s eyes light with comprehension. “Have no concern. The disciplining of Flavia was a public enough service. I will require naught further of Adelaide’s anointed before the bond is proved.”
Lucius does not miss the caveat. As soon as Lilian is free of her bond and trial, Apollo owns a will for her. It matters not. First, Lilian must survive. When her bond is proved, Lucius will deal with Apollo’s intentions. Until then, there is another matter, one that will gain him leverage with the sect leader. “Lord Prelate, what is your will for the disgraced Flavia?”
»◊«
Rising with the midday chimes, Lucius drapes his jacket across the back of his chair. Rounding the desk, he loosens his tunic collar. The scarlet door recesses, framing Lilian’s black-clad form. Crossing the threshold, she does not discard her jacket, her shoulders square and stiff, her expression tight. “If milord pleases?”
Demon shit. Something is amiss. Leaning back against his desk, he represses the flare of disappointment. Master passion. “Voice what you will.”
It is not as bad as she believes. The guild can be troublesome, and they are shrewd to target the most distant Crevasse and so soon after the disaster, while the miners and refiners are yet unsettled. If they can gain a foothold with the miners and refiners on Desperation, they will have foundation to expand throughout the Crevasse. A Bright Dawn Horror? Lucius pushes away from the desk to grasp her shoulders. “Clever, clever woman.”
At his praise, her eyes brighten, and her spine softens, her shoulders yielding into his embrace.
“When will the fable be ready?”
“Douglas promised something for Seigneur Aristides’ review by Sixth Day.”
He nods. “Another sevenday for Aristides to orchestrate the media streams and by the next Settlement Day, the guild will be curtailed.”