Bright Star

by E G Manetti

  “First bell after midday on Fourth Day,” Simon decides. “It is better to have sufficient time for a thorough review than to be forced to reconvene. Until Bright Star is formed, we will not be able to schedule Mistress Lilian’s presence as frequently as we would wish.”

  With Bright Star so visible and important, it will be difficult for Lilian to disappear regularly without giving rise to comment. Comment is to be avoided until Lucius is ready to reveal the synthetics venture.

  »◊«

  Lilian moans softly as milord rolls and pinches the pebbled peaks of her breasts. Arching into the teasing fingers, Lilian presses the back of her neck to milord’s shoulder. Milord is seated in one of the comfortable armchairs, Lilian over his lap. Her legs are spread atop and over the chair arms, leaving her open, exposed. The velvet head of milord’s shaft teases her entrance. Obedient to milord, Lilian’s hands remain on her thighs.

  Milord sets his teeth to Lilian’s throat as he sends one hand to pluck at her inflamed jewel. At the erotic contact, the throbbing in Lilian’s heated sex increases to an insistent staccato. Milord shifts his hips and the tip of his erection enters her. Involuntarily Lilian tightens around the small penetration, attempting to pull milord deeper as moisture flows. Milord retreats and Lilian moans again. Grasping her breast and sending his hand into her slick folds, milord holds Lilian tightly as he nibbles an earlobe and then firmly sucks one small, prim gold post into his mouth. The combined sensations have Lilian jerking in advancing need.

  Thrusting once more into her, milord slides his hands to her knees and tugs. “Now, Lilian.”

  With a whimper of joy, Lilian pulls her legs from the chair arms and settles hard onto milord, crying out at the pleasure of the deep penetration, the exquisite fullness. With a rumbling growl that is half laugh, milord grasps Lilian’s hips as he pushes her forward to the floor, “Brace on the table.”

  Eagerly, Lilian grasps the low refreshment table, pushing against milord’s hard shaft. Milord surges behind, pulling her hips high as he widens her legs with his knees. In moments, he has found that perfect spot within her and is driving relentlessly over it, bringing them both to wild release.

  »◊«

  “. . . Sinead’s Festival.” Tickling Lilian’s neck, Milord’s warm breath and lips do as much to draw Lilian from her light drowse as milord’s voice. Lilian’s cheek is resting on milord’s shoulder as she sprawls against him. The warm satin skin of milord’s chest tempts her into a languid stretch as she savors the sensation against her nude breasts.

  Her action is greeted by a soft chuckle and a slight shake. “Answer, woman.”

  “I beg milord’s pardon.” Lilian compels her clouded mind to focus. “I failed to hear the question.”

  Another chuckle greets her response as milord nibbles along her shoulder. Ceasing his play, milord repeats, “You may have Sixth Day morning at liberty to attend Sinead’s Festival.”

  Sinead’s Festival. Milord is generous.

  The coming Sixth Day is the annual festival honoring Sinead Standingbear, the Fifth Warrior. Helena Faesetili, Lilian’s mother and Sinead’s deranged Seer of Visions, is given to extreme humors as well as prophecy. For all her volatility, Helena is Sinead’s Seer and a prelate. By canon and custom, Lilian should attend her mother at Sinead’s Festival. Her erratic parent’s reaction to the absence of her eldest daughter and the burden it might place on Katleen has troubled Lilian for several sevendays.

  Milord’s grace is recognition of Lilian’s contribution to the discovery of the Grey Spear and Iron Hammer intrigue. Shifting in the pleasant embrace to meet milord’s gaze, Lilian offers heartfelt thanks for the gift of liberty.

  With a smile, Lucius interrupts, “Cease, woman. You are distracting and seventh bell approaches. Repair your disarray quickly or my fellow governors will discover you in this state.”

  Fifteen minutes later Lilian crosses the scarlet threshold as the two governors enter the office suite. Both governors note her presence, Elenora with mild amusement and Sebastian with his customary ire. That Lucius receives them in a loosely fastened tunic and lacking a jacket increases Elenora’s amusement and Sebastian’s ire.

  Mistress Marieth offers a small smile as Lilian passes the massive cherry worksite. The executive servitor does not know what goes forward, but she is certain that Monsignor Lucius is well pleased. From the liberty instruction she has received, his pleasure is due to the trim young woman exiting the suite.

  Sevenday 27, Day 4

  “Turn your enemy’s foes into your friends,” Helena shrieks as she attempts to land a blow that would crack Lilian’s ribs.

  Dodging her mother’s furious attack, Lilian makes use of the courtyard pillars and dry fountain. It has been some time since her mother was so overset. Since Lilian entered the Cartel, Helena has been immersed in the fanciful frescos she is painting on her chamber walls. This frenzy hearkens to the first days of their ruin.

  “Transmute your enemy’s friends into his foes.” The short sword swings past Lilian’s head as she tumbles away.

  Garbed in gray to Lilian’s black, Helena presents the same trim athleticism as Lilian. Helena’s hair is lighter, a true auburn, and her skin is paler, with a soft dusting of freckles across her cheekbones. The gray eyes are the same. At forty-eight, with a reasonable expectation of one-hundred-twenty years, Helena Faesetili is barely past first youth.

  For almost a period, Helena has screamed recitations from Sinead’s Canon as she viciously attacked her unarmed eldest with a short sword. Two months gone, after the assault by Patrick Volsted, Helena introduced the short sword to their practice sessions to be countered with Lilian’s thorn. This day Helena insisted Lilian spar unarmed. Unarmed, Lilian has no hope of prevailing against an armed Master of Sinead’s Discipline. It is all she can do to avoid damage at her mother’s hands.

  The fury assaulting Lilian offers no quarter. “The first victory in battle is survival.”

  The heavy lead training blade is a blur as it seeks to land a strike. Winded and sweating, Lilian rolls across a stone bench and onto the floor. She is followed by a small shower of stone chips as the lead pipe slams into the bench.

  “Maman, no more!” Katleen’s cry is counterpointed by the seventh-bell chimes.

  They have overextended the period. Lilian has but minutes to ready for the day. It matters not. “Maman, what do you? Had that blow landed I would have been incapacitated!”

  “Sinead and Socraide are ever at odds,” the deranged woman replies, gathering Lilian into a brief, fierce embrace. Helena offers a serene smile as she completes, “Race now. It will not serve to be late to the Cartel.”

  »◊«

  “It is not well to be of Grey Spear this sevenday,” Clarice offers as she joins Rebecca and Chrys at an undesirable table near the cashier of the Fountain Café. “Rebecca, what know you of the latest intrigue?”

  Swallowing, Rebecca nods her agreement at Clarice while Chrys grapples with confusion. “What say you, Clarice?”

  “It’s Br—the consortium,” Rebecca quickly corrects herself as she replies to Chrys. The noise of the Fountain Café is an effective screen against their neighbors. While Cartel gossip is rarely reviewed — as it is both ubiquitous and usually in error— any mention of Bright Star may signal the monitors.

  At the blonde’s words, both Clarice and Chrys lean in. Anything involving Bright Star holds the fascination of the Cartel.

  “I don’t know the whole. Only that there was intrigue regarding the cartouche shares, and in this instance, Monsignor was able to thwart Grey Spear ambition,” Rebecca reveals.

  As with all of Serengeti, the apprentice staff is constantly on the alert for developments in the rivalry between Blooded Dagger and Grey Spear. As Lilian and Chrys are Ravens, Rebecca and Clarice align their interests with Monsignor Lucius. Along with the Blooded Dagger Cartouche, they revel in Lucius’ defeats of Sebastian Mehta and revile Grey Spear’s attempts to undermine His Preeminence.
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  “Is it true that Grey Spear did not act alone?” Clarice inquires after a quick glance at the nearby tables.

  Rebecca nods. “I have heard it.”

  “What says Lilian?” Chrys inquires. A Bright Star intrigue involving the Blooded Dagger shares is a financial topic. Lilian will have the most reliable data if she is able to offer it.

  Shaking her head, Rebecca responds, “I have not seen her in two days. I missed her at her worksite after eighth-bell attendance, and she was with Master Nickolas all morning.”

  Ire at the protégé surfaces as Chrys comments, “I suppose he kept her standing the entire time.”

  Rebecca shrugs. “Lilian’s well used to it.”

  After Lucius’ rebuke for the wafer incident, Nickolas is carefully circumspect in his dealings with Lilian. He continues to deny her his shadow, in notable contrast to Simon and Irina’s care for Chrys. Chrys, in turn, is ambitious and well trained, enabling him to hide his hostility toward Lucius’ protégé. Only Rebecca has an inkling of Chrys’ opinion, and she shares it.

  Not to be deflected from the primary topic, Clarice says, “Whether or not it is true of Iron Hammer, it is certain for Grey Spear. Monsignor Sebastian is enraged. All fear to cross the cobalt threshold.”

  At Clarice’s words, a look of communication passes between the two women, and Clarice shudders slightly. Before Chrys can pursue that look, Rebecca returns to Chrys. “Does Lilian have aught to offer, it will be well to know it.”

  Matters that enrage governors impact all levels of the Serengeti. It is well to learn all they may.

  “I will encounter Lilian after midday. If she has aught to offer, I will discover it,” Chrys agrees.

  »◊«

  “Seigneur Rachelle will be pleased,” Master Simon declares approvingly. For two and a half periods, Simon has dissected every aspect of the projections for the Western Continent facility and the small market trial. Even without an Iron Hammer engineer, after two decades dedicated to Vistrite, Simon has sufficient knowledge of controller engineering to be confident. He offers a broad smile with his accolade. “This excellent analysis has earned you both an additional half period of respite. You may enjoy it at will during the next sevenday.”

  With correctly appreciative thanks, Lilian and Chrys are dismissed. The respite award is always welcome. More importantly, the reward will be entered into their bond tally. Every award is another credit on their bond proof. Due to the counterfeiters and the synthetics, Chrys and Lilian are a season ahead of schedule on their bond proof.

  With bright optimism, the two apprentices hasten to the fourth-storey Serengeti training facility. The complex includes fireburst ranges, group training salons, match chambers, strengthening device chambers, changing and freshening facilities, physical rehabilitation salons, and the Serengeti Dispensary.

  Segregated by rank, the five hundred associates and ranked warriors enjoy one set of facilities. The other four-thousand-plus retainers enjoy the remainder. The quality of the appointments is the same. The density of use is much higher in the common chambers. Even at this bell, they will be filled.

  Chrys has yet to fully adjust to the luxury of the more lightly populated associate chambers. Lilian has known naught else. She deliberately avoids the popular bells and the increased potential for insult. Delayed by the extended review with Simon, Lilian and Chrys are later in the chamber than is their custom. The sparsely attended chambers relieve Lilian’s anxiety. With a light step, she mounts the auto-racer adjoining Chrys’ and begins to train.

  Chrys’ long legs carry him effortlessly at a pace Lilian does not attempt to match. Lilian trains for endurance and prefers to race out of doors, though she is far too pragmatic to waste her training allotment of three bells per sevenday or fail to exploit what she can of the famed Serengeti training. It is little enough. Militia and Training Seigneur Thorvald disdains her and has denied her access to classes. Other than her once-a-sevenday match with Trevelyan, Lilian only enters the facility to employ the devices.

  As the half period ends, a senior associate enters the area, along with several others who disperse among the various devices. The bell is advancing; the chambers will fill rapidly as the period completes.

  While Chrys continues, Lilian releases her auto-racer. The senior associate waves to Chrys, indicating he may continue as she claims Lilian’s abandoned auto-racer. Collecting her slate bag, Lilian moves to the area set aside for discipline practice. A checkerboard of mats in the sand, gray, and midnight of Serengeti define the areas.

  After setting her satchel nearby, Lilian adds training shields to her forearms and shins. Designed for use with daggers, in trial or combat, blade shields are lined with a lightweight alloy that readily turns a blade. For training, they are lined with heavy lead.

  Adelaide’s Discipline does not include blade shields. Even the lightweight versions interfere with the flowing-water motions. However, Lilian employs them in discipline practice to add strength and endurance to her muscles. Collecting her thorn, Lilian begins to work through the movements of her discipline.

  Observing from his auto-racer, Chrys notes how the smooth movements of Lilian’s discipline are slowed by the weight of the shields. He also notes that her shield-hampered movements are more fluid than when the rainy season began.

  After twenty minutes, Lilian runs with sweat and Chrys slows his auto-racer to a cooling pace. In five minutes, Lilian will release the shields and Chrys will slow to a walk.

  “The doxy owns a toy.” Master Martin’s malicious voice shatters the serenity of the chamber. Carrying a training short sword, Martin is accompanied by his similarly armed and eager shadow, Roger Macomber.

  Master Roger, a warrior, is an Iron Hammer associate with several years at the Cartel. Above average in height with a rangy frame and narrow face, Roger is not handsome, though he is not unattractive. The malicious smirk currently twisting the associate’s face gives him a repellent aspect.

  “The tart believes she is a warrior,” Roger offers. “Shall we try that notion?”

  “As you voice,” Martin agrees, taking a vicious swipe at Lilian’s head with his short sword. The heavy lead training blade will not cut, but it can break bone.

  No time. No time. This day.

  Lilian dares not pause to shed the heavy training shields. As she ducks Martin’s blow, her thorn finds its sheath. There will be no mercy for her does she draw the nasty man’s blood. Spinning away from another attack, Lilian attempts to end the match. Milord’s will was unequivocal. Lilian is to avoid direct engagement with Monsignor Sebastian’s protégé.

  “Master Martin, I must yield,” Lilian begins. She is forestalled by a thrust at her mid-section that forces her backward.

  Lilian attempts the formal excuse, “I am expected elsewhere—”

  She is brought to a halt as the sword catches her across the right shoulder blade with a blow that knocks her to her knees.

  “You are expected to lick my boots in submission,” Martin eagerly instructs.

  I am the sum of my ancestors. They think her a coward. They wish her to shame Blooded Dagger and milord. Grey Spear seeks retribution for the failed Bright Star shares intrigue. As Martin steps forward, Lilian assesses the distance to the exit.

  Certain the kneeling woman will comply, Martin crowds forward and demands, “And I will have that pretty toy of yours as a battle trophy.”

  I am the foundation of my family. Rolling away from the approaching boots, Lilian abandons all pretense of deference. She will accept the penalty for departing without leave. Her exit is blocked by Roger’s short sword as he brings it around to drive her back toward Martin.

  “You have not been dismissed. Yield or remain,” Roger sneers.

  Mouth drying in horror, Chrys brings his auto-racer to an abrupt halt as he reaches for his slate. An alert to Simon is followed by one to Rebecca. As an apprentice, Chrys cannot halt the abuse. He requires someone of sufficient rank to aid him. Simon owns the rank
, and Rebecca is favored by Seigneur Thorvald, who commands the training chambers. Simon or Thorvald will arrive soon.

  In the moments required for Chrys to send his alerts, Lilian dodges half a dozen blows from Martin. Lilian’s next attempt to escape is blocked by an unknown associate. All of the others within the chamber have ceased training to observe the match. A half score of associates rings the area, cheering for Martin and aiding Roger in forcing Lilian back into combat. Another dozen associates circle the outskirts.

  The gathering throng begins to rumble with bloodlust. Chrys swallows hard against the acrid scent of malevolence as he attempts to call his discipline. He fails. Rage billows in response to the dishonorable assault on Lilian. They dare not rape. This is the next best assault.

  I will not fall. It is impossible. Lilian cannot stop to shed the shields. With them, she cannot endure for long. This day. Winded, Lilian attempts a dodge and stumbles. The sound of lead striking leather is loud in the chamber. Pain screams along Lilian’s left arm. Raised to protect her head, the blade shield deflected the blow even as the end of the heavy bar hit the unprotected area above her elbow.

  Honor endures. Lilian recovers her footing, only to stumble again, her limbs refusing her command. Martin’s blow crashes into her left side, sending numbing pain through her torso and stealing her wind. Grunting harshly as she rolls away, Lilian uses a shielded shin to deflect Martin’s next blow. As she finds her feet, a blow at her back staggers Lilian once more.

  Survive. The first victory in battle is survival. Helena’s words come to Lilian through pain and desperation.

  Blinking sweat from her eyes and refusing to acknowledge pain, Lilian launches herself at Martin’s knees. The man hits the mats, the sword flying from his hand. Had he been less quick, Lilian could have dislodged a kneecap.

  Tumbling free, Lilian casts about for the fallen training blade. It will not draw blood. All else might be mitigated. Before she can grasp it, a hand from the surrounding crowd retrieves it and tosses it back to Martin. Face contorted with rage, Martin grasps the sword and advances on Lilian.