by E G Manetti
In the modern context, this duty is expanded to include commerce conflicts, the protégé dedicated to preserve and advance the wealth and status of his or her mentor. ~ excerpt from The Foundations of Order, a scholarly treatise.
Sevenday 149, Day 4
Joyce nods at Lilian as she turns down the walkway to her worksite, Rodolfo nowhere in evidence. Having had Joyce as an occasional guard, Lilian recognizes that the silence is not disdain, but reserve. Neither of Trevelyan’s operatives is given to casual speech. She has noted it with Master Malcon as well and suspects it may be part of their training. This day, Lilian halts and addresses the spy. “If you please, has Governor Moira’s investigation learned aught of the prize hunters?”
First Day, the local media feeds were filled with reports of the discovery of three mutilated bodies in the Refinery District. The day gone, it was reported that the investigation had identified the victims as prize hunters from the Eighth System suspected of the fireburst incident in the Garden Center. That those who sought her death are no more is a relief. The grisly manner of their death is disturbing.
Joyce’s eyebrows rise, but she does not deny that she has knowledge of the matter. Seigneur Trevelyan would have received a report from the governor or acquired the information if it was not given. Glancing down the corridor to confirm there is no one nearby, Joyce says, “They were dead before the mutilation. Self-slaughter. Had they aught of interest to offer, they took it with them into Rimon’s dungeons.”
Lilian releases a breath she did not realize she was holding. “My thanks.”
It is a relief to know the three were not tortured for information that could bring her danger. It is also a relief to know they did not suffer as their corpses suggested.
Holding up a hand, Joyce adds, “It serves Monsignor Lucius and Seigneur Trevelyan that it not become known the prize hunters were not tortured. The governor’s investigator is keeping it from the media.”
What says she? It takes a moment and then Lilian understands. Milord wishes it suspected that the prize hunters were tortured for attempting her life in the hope it will discourage others. The governor’s motives will be similar, not wishing further violence in the city. It was but happenstance that none of the passersby were struck by the prize hunters’ fireburst. “As you voice.”
This day. Settling into her worksite, Lilian turns her attention to commerce. Although she chafes at confinement, seven million is a powerful prize. Even the threat of torture will not discourage some. It is but another sevenday and a half. I will not fall.
In a swirl of black, Rebecca drops into the hard guest chair. “Seigneur Herman’s protégé is to advance.”
The legalistics seigneur’s protégé is his close kin and a dour woman given to the dress and aspect of someone two decades her senior. The protégé has not owned a role of significance in Bright Star or Mercium, so Lilian has had little contact with her. By Clarice’s account, the woman is well skilled. By Rebecca’s, the protégé considers it ill becoming of a seigneur of Herman’s rank to take a common cartel doxy as his designated apprentice. The cartel’s legalistics seigneur owns the right to the best groomed and trained of the universities’ apprentice pool. “Advance? Then she is not out of favor with the seigneur?”
The woman did not accompany Seigneur Herman to the Nightingale launch, giving Lilian’s consortium to wonder if he were displeased with his protégé. Certainly the woman is due for advancement if she is not out of favor, having completed five years with the seigneur when only three is customary for protégés. That Nickolas has been four year’s milord’s protégé is due to Bright Star and his preparations for his role as first lieutenant, duties that will begin with the new year.
“She could be, but it would not matter. She is kin to the seigneur and well skilled. It is time she advances.” Rebecca shrugs. “Although, as master associate of Fortuna legalistics, she will be four days’ stellar transit distant.”
The increased commerce on Fortuna has increased the demand for headquarters-trained staff in operations. As the senior member of the Fortuna legalistics department, the protégé will be well positioned to earn her signet. “How soon does she take up her new duties? Will she transit with the command crew when they depart after the moon races?”
“I know not,” Rebecca replies. “Soon, I hope. Clarice will be better for the absence of her sour presence.”
There is only this day. “Be cautious, we are yet bonded.” Criticism of a superior in rank carries harsh penalties. “The archives hold more than one cautionary tale of apprentices who came to grief in the final days of their bond.”
Lilian’s slate chirps before Rebecca can offer a response. Milord has released her from evening attendance at the penthouse. Stifling regret, she says, “Shall we determine if Clarice is able to meet us in the Fountain Café at sixth bell?”
»◊«
Sipping sparkling water, Lilian gazes at her friends, touched that Chrys and Douglas have altered their evening plans to join the three women at the café. With milord’s restrictions on her movements, a period with her friends in the café is a welcome relief from the monotony of home and cartel. Although milord’s midday passion is unabated, attendance at the penthouse has been infrequent since they returned from Fortuna. For all she longs for her bond to prove, she will miss the evenings in the penthouse when they are no more. Unlike the apprentice bond, a protégé contract holds no expectation of physical intimacy.
“I will reclaim my family name,” Chrys says in reply to Douglas. “In the new year, I will once again be Chrys Marlowe.”
As with Clarice, Rebecca, and Lilian, Chrys has been offered the use of Serengeti. There could be no question that apprentices twice proven in battle to Serengeti interests would be so honored. Douglas was offered the honor a year gone when his bond proved. While Douglas’ family is small, it is one he values, so he chose to forgo the honor of Serengeti to return to Margolis. Rebecca has accepted the honor. She cannot recall if her mother owned a family name and she would not reclaim it if she did know.
Discussion of their advancement, the decisions they will soon make, the choices they will soon own, has dominated Lilian’s consortium for a sevenday. It is a discussion Lilian will not join. She will not even voice the name she claims her mother has designated.
Brimming with delight and excitement, Clarice says, “Serengeti. I will become Clarice Serengeti.”
For once it is not Rebecca but Lilian who is able to see to the core of a person. The lovely and courageous woman once endured, without outcry, a caning she had not warranted. The shadow of the defeat is lifted. There can be but one cause. “Seigneur Herman’s protégé is not the only one who advances.”
“Lilian, how did you guess?” Clarice responds. “I should not ask. You are able to discern patterns in chaos. Why not this?”
Rebecca’s eyes widen. “Protégé? Seigneur Herman will have you as protégé?”
Eyes bright, a grin spreads across Clarice’s face. “The seigneur was beyond complimentary, voicing that as I was twice proven in combat, there is no question I will prove a capable shieldbearer.”
Rebecca grins. “It will be the scandal of the season.”
What says she?
Douglas laughs aloud as Chrys shakes his head.
Blushing, Clarice says, “I had not thought it, but you are correct. Four apprentices elevated to protégé? The commerce media will be in a frenzy.”
»◊«
“Elysia, your behavior is disgraceful.” Lucius considers his daughter with a blend of anger, disappointment, and fear. Elysia stands at attention in front of the windowed doors of his library. The plant-ornamented patio and the parkland beyond are bright with afternoon sun that does naught to lift Lucius’ spirit.
For several sevendays, Elysia’s demeanor has become ungoverned. When she is not sullen, she is outrageous. At Mulan’s Cotillion the preceding Sixth Day, she overindulged in wine. Nickolas could not mask his embarrassment when he ret
urned the inebriated teenager to her home well before dark of night. At the time, Lucius dismissed his protégé’s dismay as embarrassment for a girl he holds in affection. It was not until the next day did Lucius discover the true cause. His daughter’s elaborate flirting had passed all bounds of decorum as she attempted to seduce Nickolas.
It is naught compared to her latest wild escapade. Had it occurred beyond the boundaries of his estate, she could have been charged by the governor’s militia. Had the ill-considered activity lasted for more than a few moments, Lucius might be mourning his daughter, not disciplining her.
After the incident with Nickolas, Elysia was confined to the estate for a sevenday and ordered to dwell on the need for self-mastery. In defiance of the restrictions of her confinement, Elysia invited several friends to the estate. To avoid discovery by Lady Estella, Elysia gathered her friends in the estate parkland, well out of sight of the house. At some point, they decided to discover how difficult it is to strike a target with fire-pistol burst from a moving speeder.
Knowledgeable of the parkland trails, Elysia set her speeder in motion and fireburst scored various trees and rocks on the winding pathways. Her friends were to follow and attempt to strike her marks. As Elysia rounded a turn, intending to mark an elm tree, she came within a breath of striking an unsuspecting gardener.
Well familiar with Elysia’s riotous method of speeding through the parkland, the man had backed up against the tree at the sound of the oncoming speeder. Braking hard at the sight of the man, Elysia’s shot went wide. Her cousin Jenica, following close behind, swerved to avoid collision with Elysia’s slowing speeder, her shot going wild. It struck the left rear wheel of Elysia’s speeder and sent her tumbling.
Abandoning commerce at the alert, Lucius arrived home to find Chin tending to Elysia’s gashed faced and fractured shin. Marco’s Jenica was hysterical, the others frightened. Estella was pale to the lips as she attempted to assure her daughter’s well-being and interrogate the gathered teenagers.
At his words, Elysia’s chin trembles before her shoulders square and her chin lifts. The white healer’s sealant that transects her right cheek is stark against her rising blush, her thigh slender and fragile above the bulk of the blue shin encasement.
Hardening his will against the appeal of his youngest child, Lucius continues, “You compound one transgression with another and yet another. I cannot voice which is more appalling, your defiance or your lack of judgment.”
That Elysia defied her well-earned restrictions is a serious transgression. Her endangering of her fellows is worse. She is under Thorvald’s tutelage. She well knows the dangers of firearms.
“I beg your pardon, Father,” Elysia cries. “It was ill done to defy the restrictions. For the fire-pistols, I did not consider it a danger. Such games are common at the fire ranges.”
“The parkland is not a well-monitored fire range and none of you are warranted in fire-pistol use,” Lucius bites out.
As with any weapon, its use is restricted to training facilities until competency is proven. Elysia’s progress at the Serengeti fire range has been excellent, but she is not yet warranted. None of her friends are either. He cannot believe his daughter could so lack understanding of the danger to her and her companions. Nor does she seem to realize that not all the danger has passed. “Have you any notion the penalty that could accrue should the parents of one of your friends wish to take issue with this day’s events?”
Two of Elysia’s friends did not participate—not through lack of intent, but through lack of speeders. At the time of the accident, only Elysia, Jenica, and one of the other youngsters were using the fire-pistols. Jenica used her own speeder, Elysia Raphael’s, and the third Cesare’s while the other two waited for a turn. It matters not. They did not participate. They are free of transgression. Their parents are at liberty to indict Elysia.
“I deeply regret my actions, Father,” Elysia says with appropriate contrition. Her eyes flash and she adds, “None of my friends will indict. They would be scorned at Crossed Sabers for such a betrayal.”
His daughter is correct, and their parents will not challenge Lucius Mercio when no harm has been done. It does not alter that her actions could have had dire consequences. “Had you succeeded in slaying our gardener or one of your companions, matters would be vastly different.”
Elysia blinks, her eyes shining. Fear mingles with rage. Unable to contain himself, he grabs her shoulders. “You could have been slain. How could you be so ill governed?”
Jenica should not have been following so close. It was not even Elysia’s idea. She had refused until Jenica declared she was bored. The older girl then formed the intention to abandon Elysia in favor of the green-season River Quarter pavilions and cafés. Elysia voices none of it. It is of no matter.
She should not have taken the fire-pistols. Seigneur Thorvald is like to deny her the cartel fire range for a season when he learns of her transgression. Mayhap for a year. Nor will she forget her blood-freezing terror when she found the gardener in her sights. “Truly, Father, I know not. It was demon inspired. It was beyond frightening to discover the gardener in my line of sight.”
The hands on her shoulders soften, but her father does not release her. Sorrow replaces anger in his expression. “I cannot send you to tend the citrus groves in the Southern Continent for a season as you deserve. Your absence would grieve your mother.”
She does not deserve leniency. Her transgression is every bit as bad as the one that sent Raphael to the fisheries. That her mother’s failing health gives her a reprieve increases her shame.
Father’s lips tighten. “Nor will your mother be shamed by your absence at the Vistrite Cotillion. The state of your leg will offer sufficient explanation of your absence.”
At the denial of the cotillion, she is barely able to restrain her dismay. The Vistrite Cotillion is the final event of the cotillion season and sponsored by Serengeti for all the most important families in the Third System. After the governor’s Code of Engagement reception, it is the most important social event of the year. It was to be the final triumph of Elysia’s recognition season.
Her father is not done. “Elysia, as I cannot establish an appropriate contrition, I cannot pardon your transgressions. You are of the age of consent. You must seek your redemption at the Shrine of the Second Warrior.”
She has defied her father and endangered her friends. She must submit to Rimon’s Scourge.
Sevenday 150, Day 3
Using a wand, Master Simon selects a delicate crystal from the tray, holding it up to the light of the windowless analytics chamber. The translucent scarlet disk two inches in diameter sparkles in the artificial light.
“It is beyond beautiful,” Lilian breathes.
The scarlet Mercium variant holds more value than rubies. They have done it. Blooded Dagger and Serengeti have completed the imaginative and improbable propulsion design of Master Aidan and the Leonardo Society. The impossible is no longer merely probable, it is certain.
Before Simon can acknowledge Lilian’s compliment, the entrance door recesses. Milord enters with Seigneur Rachelle at his side, Chrys behind her left shoulder.
Without a word, Simon yields the instrument holding the precious disk to his seigneur.
“It is wondrous,” milord says. “How soon can it be reproduced in the quantities needed?”
Seigneur Rachelle’s pleasure in the moment is palpable. She gestures to Master Simon, who cannot contain a grin as he displays a tray holding a dozen of the fabulous scarlet disks.
The propulsion systems of the Nightingale will exceed all known technology by almost thirty percent. That level of improvement is the limit that the Nightingale hull can tolerate. Lilian’s latest analytics indicate greater gains. If Monsignor Angus can design it, the next generation of SEVs may well own a third again the propulsion capability of the Nightingale.
It is a breathtaking notion.
»◊«
I am the sum of my
ancestors. Lilian tosses her head, settling her heavy, dark-red locks about her shoulders as the riser lifts her to milord’s penthouse. The bells in the variants lab shortened midday attendance, and milord spent the half period remaining taunting her without release. Aching with need that has grown with each passing bell since, she struggled to attend commerce, beyond relieved when sixth bell chimed.
I am the foundation of my family. It has been sevendays since he last called her here and with her bond proof but a few days away, it may be the last occasion. She opens her jacket, allowing it to swing about her hips. She touches the fastener at her throat. Overbold? She cannot resist and opens three fasteners, revealing the black lace edge of her bra.
The riser halts and opens. Crossing the entryway, she finds the reception salon dark but for the rose glow of the setting sun. Milord turns from his place by the windows, a dark form outlined in light. Her breath catches, and her sex tightens at the sight. Moving to him, the darkness retreats and she can discern his nude torso, beltless trousers and bared feet.
Dropping her satchel and jacket on a chair, she walks into his arms and is swept up in a sense-searing kiss. His mouth holds a hint of citrus and that special, arousing taste that is milord. Her arms twine about his neck as his hands cup her buttocks, lifting and positioning until her legs are wrapped about his waist, her skirt riding up above her hips. Arching against him, she seeks to put pressure on her heated cleft, to relieve that simmering desire that flares into driving need at his touch. Releasing her lips, he nibbles along the column of her neck, deft fingers working her top fasteners and pushing it free, revealing the down-soft black lace and gossamer restraining her swelling breasts.
Two steps, and her back is pressed to the windows, milord’s hips bracing her in place. His fingers whisper along her sternum, glide over her breast, circle and stroke one tender peak into hard point. His head bows, and warm, wet heat latches onto one tip, setting up an answering heat between her legs. His tongue strokes, the hot pressure dragging the soft lace against her sensitive nipple, eliciting shudders of delight and setting her sex alight. Teeth close on the tender bud and pleasure becomes sharp bliss. Gasping, Lilian clutches milord’s shoulders. He hums in response, and that tingle of bliss spreads outward.
