by E G Manetti
Stabbing her trowel in the earth, Lilian suppresses a wince as she eases back onto her calves. “As you have not been made known to Master Chin, I do not believe you have leave to use his voice.”
The weak sun and the exercise of replanting the herb garden have kept Lilian warm in the chill air. After the prior year’s garden was destroyed by fire dousers, the small household endured the rainy season by cooking the cheapest of wilted greens and consuming supplements. Determined to replant the garden at the earliest opportunity, Lilian has nursed seedlings in the kitchen for over a month. This Sixth Day at liberty proved a Shade-sent opportunity to plant the garden and distract Katleen from the lack of Sinead’s festivities.
“You do Mr. George disservice,” Katleen counters. “Mr. George is diligent in his duty and very concerned for you.”
“When, exactly, did Mr. George relay his concern and the master medic’s will?” Lilian inquires. Gingerly levering herself to her feet, Lilian begins to collect the garden implements. “You were not within when Mr. George carried me home yesterday.”
“Fourth Day, after dinner,” responds Katleen as she hastily collects the garden tools, forestalling Lilian. She knows that Lilian is withholding and does not believe the fable of a training accident. Within the sevenday, Katleen will have the true tale from the shrine attendants. “It was how I knew that you would be overnight at the Cartel.”
Tossing her gloves into the gardener’s basket Katleen carries, Lilian starts down the kitchen path. “How often have you had contact with Mr. George since then?”
“Yesterday before I left for school,” Katleen recites, “again after I returned from school, and last evening after the potions made you sleep.”
“Katleen, do you understand that all you voice to Mr. George is reported to Monsignor?” Lilian inquires with careful casualness as she rinses the garden tools.
“Of course, Lilian. Mr. George is exceptionally diligent,” Katleen replies with a sunny smile as she dries the tools.
Pleased by her sister’s good sense and relieved by her discretion, Lilian is suddenly aware of the drag of fatigue. She has done all she can for the moment.
“As you are so concerned about my health and the master medic’s will, you may water the plants while I go to rest.” Lilian’s light chiding is accompanied by a quick caress to Katleen’s curls.
“Lilian!” Katleen complains.
“Peace, sweetling. Once you have completed the task, you may enjoy your latest lurid entertainment until Maman returns,” Lilian offers.
“No food preparation this night,” Katleen rejoices. “The acolytes will bring the excess from the festivities.”
Custom decrees that Shrine excess is given to the poorest of the devoted. Helena and her household are not destitute to the degree of shrine beggars, but they are sufficiently impoverished to justify the largesse. Even Socraide’s Keeper, an exceptionally rigid prelate, will not challenge the gift.
The boon is exceptionally pleasing to Katleen, the only one of the three who comprehends the intricacies of the food preparation device. Lilian’s willing aid is limited at best, Helena’s counterproductive.
The seer’s inattention late in the dry season resulted in the kitchen fire that damaged the kitchen to the point that Lilian was near despair. Only the discovery of Lilian’s valuable antique puppet collection, somehow salvaged by Helena, kept the small family from disaster. The sea-demons have been sold. The elf queen and king and their three courtiers remain, along with the homely and relatively valueless tree-troll that rests in Lilian’s chamber by the cordovan chair.
“And on the morrow, more liberty after the marketing is complete, as I am unfit for race training.” Lilian further delights Katleen.
Sevenday 27, Day 7
“Center your weight,” Lilian quietly instructs Katleen as the young girl works through the avoidance forms of Adelaide’s Discipline.
“Reach out to my hand, you can do it,” Lilian encourages Katleen, who grazes the extended palm with her toe.
“Excellent. Switch.” Lilian shifts her hand as Katleen shifts her legs.
“Spin away,” Lilian calls as the toe grazes her hand.
Obediently, Katleen continues the movement, spinning out to touch her hands to the stone floor.
“Sinead’s Spite!” Katleen falls out of the graceful movements.
“Katleen, do not profane,” Lilian admonishes even as she moves forward to aid her sister. “Are you well? How did you fall?”
“It’s wet,” Katleen says disgustedly, wiping her wet hand on her training trousers. “Another puddle.”
Not muscle failure or error; surprise caused the tumble.
“Contractions are vulgar,” Lilian automatically corrects as she eases to her knees to examine the floor. “Katleen, it is only a bit of wet. You should not let such distractions break your discipline. You may encounter puddles in true combat.”
“I beg your pardon, Lilian,” Katleen says contritely, acknowledging her error. “Shall we try again?”
“No, sweetling.” Lilian shakes her head. “The bell advances. Chrys and Rebecca will arrive soon. We should deal with this puddle before we go.”
“I will fetch some rags,” Katleen agrees, racing toward the kitchen walkway.
“And a basin,” Lilian calls after her.
»◊«
First System, First Warrior, Socraide Omsted. Second System, Second Warrior, Rimon Ben Claude. Third is Mulan Tsao, allied with the First. Honorable Jonathan Metricelli, the Fourth. Plop! Fifth and final, Sinead Standingbear. First System, First—
“Lilian!” Entering the courtyard, cleansed and garbed for the market, Katleen startles Lilian from her mental recitation. “What do you? I called you twice.”
Releasing her contemplation of the pottery basin that holds a thimble’s worth of water, Lilian responds, “Counting the interval between droplets. It is well. The basin will not overfill while we are absent.”
“It is not as though water can harm the stone,” Katleen returns.
“True enough,” Lilian agrees. “Nonetheless, it is annoying to mop and it will be at least a sevenday before I am able to correct the seal.”
The courtyard covers that protect the interior of the house should have been replaced a decade gone. Twice during the rains Lilian has climbed to the attics to reseal the joint between the cover and the roof.
“Vistrite-controlled covers are so much better.” Katleen frowns at the faded awning blocking the sky.
“Refusing the price of household repairs was the least of Gariten’s crimes,” Lilian shrugs. “His penthouse in Pinnacle City was luxurious before it was forfeited. At least you were spared his presence.”
Shortly after Katleen’s birth and Lilian’s entrance into advanced studies at the age of fifteen, Remus Gariten relocated to Socraide Prime to expand his commerce ventures. His absence was not lamented.
“He lacked not funds.” Katleen releases her contemplation of the covers as she considers the price of a luxurious penthouse in the capital of the First System.
Clasping Katleen’s shoulders, Lilian confirms, “Gariten tended to his comfort and ambition and little else.”
Remus Gariten’s support of his family was limited to the visible. Schools, servants, and wardrobes were maintained. The ornamental gardens fell into ruin. Although Katleen’s house is of Helena’s family, the trust was administered by Gariten. There was naught Helena or her daughters could do. Lilian never resented Katleen’s ownership of the house. After their ruin, Lilian considered it the Shades’ Grace. Had the house been Lilian’s, it would have been forfeited.
Determined to move Katleen past recall of Gariten, Lilian toes the basin. “It is possible that by the time I heal, the rains will ease. My next venture in the harness may be to open the courtyard to the sky.”
Light showers are common during the green season and early dry season. Once the courtyard is open to the sky, what rainfall the ancient drains cannot remove will eva
porate through the opening.
Before Katleen can respond, the distinctive entry alert sounds. “It is Chrys!”
Lunging from Lilian’s embrace, Katleen races to the entrance and the young man who offered her such gallantry at Lilian’s consecration.
“Master Chrys and Mistress Rebecca,” Lilian gently chides as she follows at a more moderate pace. By the time she reaches the entrance, Chrys has already performed the introductions.
Carrying the market satchels, Lilian secures the entrance before following the threesome down the stairs. Chrys is handsome in his slate-blue tunic to which he has added a well-worn charcoal leather jacket. His easy manner and pleasant smile minimize his formidable physique. Lilian has decided his manner is as much camouflage as his boxy Serengeti suits. Chrys wishes to pass unnoted unless he chooses otherwise.
Skilled at attracting attention, Rebecca’s attempt to limit her allure has met with only partial success. Face absent of cosmetics and her hair in a loose tail, Rebecca does not sparkle as she does within the Cartel. The purity of her features is all the more apparent. Her simple burgundy leggings and tunic are covered by a fitted navy jacket with silver piping that fails to mask her curves or grace of movement. Her fashionably heeled ankle boots are a marked contrast to the serviceable footgear worn by Lilian and Katleen.
As Rebecca and Chrys take possession of the market satchels, Katleen tugs self-consciously on the rolled cuffs of her quilted teal jacket. Once Lilian’s, it was given to Katleen when last year’s jacket proved too small. The vibrant color turns Katleen’s skin translucent. The excess length accents her youth.
Tucking the satchels into his jacket, Chrys considers Lilian’s heavily shadowed eyes and overly careful movements. Lilian’s bulky and battered canvas jacket, cream turned to dirty sand, emphasizes her fragility. “Will you reconsider and remain within the house while Rebecca and I escort Katleen?”
“I walked from the Cartel and I will walk to the market,” Lilian responds stubbornly, only to be met by Chrys’ glower.
Sighing, Lilian adds, “Chrys, I dare not appear weak.”
Given Lilian’s state, Chrys snorts his derision. It gains him naught but the shuttered expression he has come to detest. With a shrug and a smile, he yields. “As you will. Monsignor did not indict me for tending you in the training chambers. Must I carry you home, I will.”
Indict! Five Warriors save us. Chrys held Lilian for at least a quarter period after the assault. Such wanton disregard for the apprentice protocol could have seen Chrys caned. That neither milord nor Seigneur Rachelle took exception is extraordinary grace. Grace that is unlikely to be repeated. Releasing her pride, Lilian accedes. “Peace, Chrys. Do I tire, I will rest.”
Catching Chrys’ gaze, Rebecca slants a glance at Katleen and suggests, “You must set the direction, Katleen. Chrys and I have little knowledge of the Garden Center District.”
Delighted to be the center of attention, Katleen sets off toward the market six blocks distant, pointing out various places of interest along the way. Her meandering discourse slows their pace, the rests to examine various landmarks occur naturally.
Absently commenting on Katleen’s guidance, Chrys monitors Lilian’s appearance. Color has returned to her lips as she moves slowly but without hesitation. The master medic’s potions are proving effective.
Even with the unhurried stroll, it is yet well before midday when they reach the covered market, which will remain sparsely attended for some bells. The vendors willing to serve the disgraced family are few, and Katleen quickly navigates through the stalls and shops. Their early arrival, and perhaps the stalwart figure of Chrys, allows the marketing to be completed without incident. After a period, the satchels carried by Chrys, Rebecca, and Katleen are but half full. The Shrine’s gift of the festival excess has the foodkeeper partially stocked.
Exiting the market, they find that the sun has broken through the chilly gray day, the clouds separated by broad expanses of blue. The air holds a hint of warmth that heralds the coming green season. The bright sunshine and warming air lifts the spirits of the quartet as they return to Katleen’s house. Their leisurely pace is punctuated by pauses as Chrys and Rebecca continue to indulge their curiosity about the elegant and exclusive section of the city.
»◊«
“Not there, Rebecca,” Lilian instructs with frustration, confined to a chair while her friend loads the foodkeeper. “Eggs to the left.”
Lilian’s lack of skill with the food preparation device is balanced by her mastery of the foodkeeper currently crowded with festival excess.
Dutifully making the change, Rebecca pulls out the fish intended for the evening meal. “What of this?”
“On the bottom,” Lilian begins and halts. The area is overly full. “I beg pardon, Rebecca, place it in the middle. It will keep well enough until this evening.”
After following Lilian’s direction, Rebecca closes the foodkeeper with a flourish. “In the future I won’t be so quick to complain about the fare in the quarters. This business of food preparation is more work than it appears.”
Ideal for apprentices, the Serengeti Associates’ Quarters are designed to minimize junior associates’ requirements for personal maintenance and free additional bells for commerce. Nominally priced, well monitored, and chaperoned, they provide bland, but nutritious fare at all bells. It is a significant concession that Lucius permits Lilian to reside with her family. It happens to serve his will. Trevelyan is adamant that he cannot keep Lilian safe in the crowded quarters, and it also limits Lilian’s interactions with the other associates, which might reveal her prodigy.
Rising, Lilian agrees that food preparation is demanding. “Truly, were it not for Katleen, we would starve. I can arrange the foodkeeper and boil an egg. Beyond that, I can do naught without Katleen’s strictures to guide me.”
Following Lilian onto the kitchen walkway, Rebecca says, “Even with the challenges, I like the Garden Center for Seventh Day. It’s much nicer than the area of the Commerce District where the quarters are located.”
Katleen’s crumbling house is the finest Rebecca has ever encountered. As Rebecca surreptitiously examines every foot, she regrets that the gloom cast by the courtyard covers and heavy shutters hides all beyond the stone training chamber.
“Oh look, the sun’s out!” Rebecca exclaims unnecessarily as they step from the gloom into the suddenly bright day.
Seated on the steps, Chrys and Katleen release their fascination with Katleen’s slate and her latest sensational entertainment. Although Katleen is sufficient to chaperone Lilian and Chrys for public forays, she is not sufficient for closeted ones. Chrys dares not enter the house with Lilian or Rebecca. Rebecca and Lilian waited outside while Chrys ferried the market satchels within under Katleen’s guidance. Once the satchels were in the kitchen, Chrys remained outside while Lilian and Rebecca tended to storage.
Beguiled by the improved weather, the simple joy of breathing, and the support of her friends, Lilian yields to impulse and suggests a rare indulgence. “Katleen, what think you? On such a bright day, will Mr. Hidaka have opened his patio?”
»◊«
One of the myriad small establishments that cater to the Garden Center, the patio of Hidaka’s Café offers a limited menu and reduced prices within Lilian’s means. It is the first to open when the rains lessen and the last to shutter when they return. Lilian’s group follows a trio into the half-full patio where, to Lilian’s delight, none appear to notice them.
With a welcoming smile, Hidaka, the diminutive proprietor, waves Lilian and her party to a table in the farthest corner of the patio while he guides the trio to a table near the center.
“Odd arrangement,” Chrys remarks on the four-foot gap between their table and the others. The man’s inefficient arrangement is losing revenue. “Another table would fit easily.”
“This is Lilian’s table, Master Chrys,” Katleen informs as she settles between Chrys and Lilian, a living barrier against ill
icit contact. No such precaution is required for Rebecca. They are in public and Rebecca is not under indictment, nor apprenticed to the Serengeti preeminence. Different standards apply.
“Lilian’s table?” Chrys cocks his head in Lilian’s direction as he responds to Katleen.
It is common among the elite to command favored positions in the finer clubs and restaurants. It is pretentious to invoke such a claim at this modest establishment. It is beyond silly for an apprentice.
“It is not what you think, Chrys,” Lilian begins.
“They disdain you.” Rebecca scowls around the patio.
“Rebecca, smile, I beg you,” Lilian returns hastily. “It is not what you think. Mr. Hidaka is very gracious.”
Recalling the number of market stalls that would not serve Lilian, Rebecca alters her scowl to a winsome smile as she demands, “How gracious?”
I am the sum of my ancestors. It is not a memory Lilian enjoys. I am the foundation of my family. There is no harm in it. “Katleen and I often enjoyed the café and patio on my visits from the university.”
It is hardly a secret. Taking a deep breath, Lilian voices, “When we returned after the . . . scandal, we stopped here one day. I had no notion. I had . . .”
“We had no idea we were so notorious,” Katleen chimes in as Lilian struggles with the recounting. “We found an open table in the middle and suddenly five tables emptied.”
“What did the café owner do?” Chrys asks, horrified at the image of Lilian and Katleen so publicly and cruelly shamed.
“Naught, Chrys, naught,” Lilian interjects. “Mr. Hidaka has long been a friend. I knew he could not afford to lose so much custom.”
“Lilian was making us leave,” Katleen jumps in again. “Mr. Hidaka begged us to stay and apologized that he had only this remote table unreserved.”
“How often do you come here?” Rebecca asks.
“This is the first visit since the rains began,” Katleen confides. “Lilian promised a visit next Settlement Day.”
“Mistress Lilian, Mistress Katleen, well come.” The elderly Hidaka bustles up to their table to take their order.
