Quester amongst the flowers 17

 running a little late; I wrapped the last chapter at 1-30 am

Chapter 17

 

The teams of Hussars had left before lunch, and Kiliana and Jessica had watched them take to several rotodynes on their way to going in to eat.  Quester stopped, and beckoned them over.

“Kiliana; I felt your distress, but it wasn’t immediate danger, so I did not come,” he said.

Kiliana threw herself into his arms.

“The lesson was going to be flower arranging,” she said. “Miz Peta took us for a walk and we talked and it helped, because Jessica’s idiot father calls her Jasmina.”

“I see,” said Quester, laying a comforting hand on Jessica’s shoulder. “Jessica, would you object if I became your guardian?”

“I’d like it very much,” said Jessica. “What, have my parents been blaspheming?”

“I don’t know, but they are implicated in fraud,” said Quester. “I was going to seek you out later, but as you are here....”

“Thank you,” said Jessica. “I’ll probably want to cry about it at some point, but right now, I’m too furious with them almost getting me pruned and arranged.”

“Understandable,” said Quester. “I won’t be available for some hours... probably not at all today.”

“We have each other,” said Kiliana. “Take care, Leo.”

“I will,” said Quester. He hesitated, waiting for Jessica to move away. “Kiliana, Eusebius pointed out that there are powerful elements who would try to punish me by taking you away, on the grounds that you are a Psion, and so am I; and that you should be placed with another Justiciar who is not a Psion.  I... if we were married, that would obviate the problem.”

Kiliana stared at him.

“When you’ve figured out all the ways in which that proposal was totally wrong, get back to me,” she said, turning on her heel to walk away.

“Eusebius! Help me out!”  called Quester. “I thought Kiliana felt the same way about me as I feel about her, but I think she just turned me down in an offer of marriage!”

“You think? Don’t you know?”

“I told her the risk of being split and said that being married was a good idea to remove that problem.”

Very few people had ever seen one of the dread Justiciars being slapped across the back of the head, even if by one of the Highbred.

“You mooncalf!” said Eusebius. “That’s a fine way to court a girl, tell her it would be convenient to be wed!”

“But I didn’t!”

“Yes, you did, you snot-for-brains!” said Eusebius. “You reach out to that girl right away, and tell her that you love her!”

“Yes, big brother,” said Quester.

It was hard to penetrate Kiliana’s shields; she had wrapped herself in on herself.

“Killie!  I love you! Please let me in! Don’t leave me feeling empty!” he cried.

“Leo? Why did you ask me so hurtfully?”

“Killie, I... I thought you knew how I feel. But I wanted to prepare you to perhaps marry sooner than....”

“Sooner than drifting for a few years because you can’t tell me outright?”

“I... something like that. I love you.”

“I love you, Leo. I forgive you.”

Kiliana was crying; she had fought off the tears of hurt, but the glad tears came readily, and Jessica steered her into a disused classroom.

“What’s up?” asked Jessica.

“My Justiciar has the timing and subtle finesse in the social arts of a hammer-head shark,” said Kiliana, laughing ruefully through the tears. “But he asked me to marry him.”

“Congratulations?” it was half a question.

“Yes, indeed; he isn’t very good at expressing himself, and I wasn’t sure for a while if it was a proposal or a job offer,” said Kiliana.

“Timing a bit crass, too,” said Jessica.

“But he wants to protect me, so that, I readily forgive and understand,” said Kiliana. “I might make him work on the courtship some, though.”

Both girls giggled.

 

oOoOo

 

“Now then, girls, take a sheet of music from the stack, pick your instrument of choice, and we’ll see how well you are sight reading,” said Miz Brossa.

“Miz Brossa, Kiliana is new...” began Jessica.

“Nice to meet you, dear, but with all these excitements we are running late. Pick an instrument, and set up your music stand,” said Miz Brossa.

“Ma’am...” Kiliana tried to explain and was waved away.

She sat down by a harp, and put the music on the stand. It made no sense to her.

“And one, two, three!” Miz Brossa started conducting. Kiliana stared, uncomprehending.

“Stop!  Killina or whatever your name is!  Why are you not playing?”

“I don’t know how, Miz Brossa,” said Kiliana. “It’s Kiliana.”

“Well, pick an instrument you do know how to play, then,” said Miz Brossa.

“There aren’t any,” said Kiliana.

“Come child! We have a wide variety of instruments, surely you know one of them? Whoever taught you music?”

“Nobody, ma’am,” said Kiliana. “I’ve never played an instrument in my life. I can strip and clean a laser rifle, though.”

“Oh, I have no time for facetiae. Are you telling me you have never learned any instrument? I find that hard to believe. What was your mother doing during your childhood?”

“Being dead,” said Kiliana.

“You can sing, at least?”

“Oh, yes,” said Kiliana.

“Good. You can sing lah that piece for me.”

“How can I? I don’t know it,” said Kiliana.

“Well, sight read! Sight read!” said Miz Brossa, coming over to Kiliana, and looking at the sheet of music. She slapped Kiliana hard.

Kiliana rolled with the blow, and swept Miz Brossa’s feet out from beneath her, rolling to her own feet, and coming up with a knife in her hand. She stood at bay, fear in her eyes.

Miz Brossa screamed.

Mr. Hawlus burst into the room.

“Now what is going on?” he demanded.

Miz Brossa gibbered.

“That... that... taking the mock, and attacking me!” she pointed at Kiliana.

“With all due respect, Miz Brossa hit me first for no reason,” said Kiliana. “And I don’t know that she doesn’t have a weapon to try to kill me.”

Miz Brossa gobbled.

“No reason! Why you were mocking me!” she cried.

“I was not. I cannot play an instrument. I can sing, but not if I don’t know the tune. I don’t know what sight reading is, and the page of gibberish with no words makes no sense to me,” said Kiliana.

Mr. Hawlus came over.

“Miz Antilla, you have the page upside-down,” he said.

“Well, how am I supposed to know that?” asked Kiliana. “I’ve never seen music written down. She didn’t trouble to tell me it was upside-down, and this besom hit me for no reason I could understand, so I assumed she must be a heretic attacking the Justiciar through me. I have never learned music and I was looking forward to it, as a new skill.” Her lip wobbled, though she fought it.

“We should have taken Miz Peta’s sick note,” said Jessica. “Remember, Mr. Hawlus, Kiliana is a Psion and she ‘heard’ what Mr. Cartius was going to do to her. And me. And we were unable to think of f...flower arranging without thinking of... of being Arranged. And now Miz Brossa wasn’t ready to hear that Kiliana has no previous instruction.” She was close to tears.

“It appears that there has been some hastiness on both sides,” said Mr. Hawlus. “But I have to say, most of us discover from a new pupil what standards they have achieved, if any, before setting them up to be potentially humiliated.  How much chance did you give Miss Antilla to explain?”

“Why, I assumed any governess worth her pay would have brought her to a similar standard as the other young ladies, but all she said was that she knew how to strip and clean a laser rifle! Facetious!”

“Not facetious, that was the training I had, reared as an army brat,” said Kiliana. “I don’t think there were any instruments outside the military brass band. And the chief whore’s ankle bells, but that doesn’t count, does it?”

“It doesn’t count,” sighed Mr. Hawlus. “Will one of you girls chaperone Miz Antilla, if I start her musical education?”

“I will,” said Jessica.

“Thank you, Miz Vanrensula,” said Mr. Hawlus.  “Come to my study; carry on, Miz Brossa, and do try to find out how much a new child knows before causing a scene another time. We will speak of this at greater length later.”

 

Seeing how white and strained the girls were, Mr. Hawlus sent for milky coffee and biscuits, and sat Kiliana down, explaining the notes to her. He found her to have perfect pitch, and a good knowledge of hymns, which meant he could use a book of hymns to help to show her how the music was depicted on paper.

Kiliana started enjoying her lesson.

“You may come to me when the others have music,” said Hawlus. “It is always useful to have another skill. I am sure I can arrange a chaperone.”

“That was what I thought, and if I can read music, I can find new hymns I don’t know,” said Kiliana. “My maid could chaperone me.”

“That would be ideal,” said Mr. Hawlus, relieved. He thought Kiliana a delightful girl, but could appreciate that some of his staff, especially those who had not had broad life experience, would find her air of adult assurance, allied with some missing spheres of knowledge they took for granted, to be unnerving. Even those patricians forced to earn their living had usually had relatively sheltered lives compared to the majority of the populace. Mr. Hawlus had been a Militia Chaplain, and he had seen more than most of those for whom he was now responsible.

 

oOoOo

 

Quester leaped out of the rotodyne at the hub which served half a dozen patrician residences. They shared a park as well, at ground level, fully an acre of land devoted to pleasure gardens, and not a vegetable plot in sight, he thought in disapproval. Most had conservatories as well for luxury fruit and vegetables out of season, but that scarcely counted. And each residence catered to one family, with a private garden on the roof, and as many as six floors all for a few people, even though most families did house extended branches as well. Each of these gated communities of six or at times eight dwellings was known more familiarly as a Leetsicon to those who did not aspire to such. Quester strode to the security hut which blocked the flying way to the residence he was aiming for.

“You are holding me up,” he snarled at the security officer.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t have any visitor to the Stayvuhsanti resident marked as expected,” said the security officer. “I will have to contact the house; you must give me your name and reason....” he tailed off.

“Do you know what this uniform and badge stand for?” demanded Quester.

“Y... yes, sir, you’re a Justiciar...”

“You call a Justiciar ‘my lord!’ barked Burdock. “And you don’t fart about telling criminals how they is about to be arrested, you... never mind.” The Ogroid was strong, and he rippied the barrier clean off its hinges.  “You can go through, now, my lord, and this lad should pray not to irritate you further and end up under arrest, like the Stay-Vagrants,” he added.

An alarm had sounded, of course; but Quester had not the heart to inform Burdock that this might make the quick, quiet arrest harder.

The militia would handle any security guards without difficulty.

Quester reflected that social class determined the way housing was arranged; in the sump, one entered at the lowest level, and if anyone lived on more than one level, their living rooms were below any sleeping quarters.  This was generally those of low social class but higher income, in other words, the criminals or near criminals. Lower to upper middle classes tended to live flat in apartments, the premium apartments being higher, for ease of access to flying walkways to elevated rail stations. The ground trams and buggies were much less prestigious, unless a luxury buggy to places the El did not cater to. And the most prestigious lived from the top down, with public rooms immediately below the roof, near to the helipad, living quarters below that, sleeping below that, and servants and service rooms on the ground floor, where food was delivered by buggy. Conservatories were thus conveniently close to the kitchens, and if any patrician had a hobby of raising exotic plants, he would have a conservatory cantilevered out on a balcony from his public rooms, in order to show off his rare specimens.

Quester went up to the front door, on the floor below the roof, and rang the bell.

There was a long pause.

Eventually the door opened.

“We are not at home to visitors,” said a snooty looking flunky.

“Ho, yes you are,” said Burdock, who was enjoying himself. He interposed himself into the doorway before the door could be shut.

“Binders, please, Burdock,” said Quester. “Where is Erman Jyonon Stayvuhsantus?”

“You... you can’t come in here like this,” said the flunky.

“Actually, yes, I can,” said Quester. “Room by room search, then; arrest any adults.”

“Servants?” asked Purity.

Quester considered.

“Leave all but any secretaries, housekeeper, upper servants,” he said.

The lower echelon might endure lectures on their faith later. Any who wanted to rat the family up could be taken along as witnesses not prisoners.

Quester discovered the master of the house in his study, in flagrante delicto with an attractive young woman.

“Imperial Justiciar, cease immediately; you are under arrest for heresy,” he boomed, using a touch of voice control.

It was an effective coitus interruptus, and Quester enjoyed the look of horror on the man’s face; a man who had left a very confused little girl and trained her to be a bully.

“What in the void?” demanded Stayvuhsantus.

“Possibly where you will end up,” said Quester. “Is this your wife?”

“Void take it! Why would I screw my wife when there are prettier women around?”

“The Blessed Abe would take issue with that view.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself.  What is this nonsense?”

“You are under arrest for heresy; worse, you have taught your innocent daughter to babble heresy, and to deny the existance of the god-hero, and to blaspheme.”

“Don’t you start on my daughter. What’s the fine?  I’ll pay it. We all know you people only use your god-hero to keep the masses in line; it doesn’t apply to people like us. If she spoke in front of the wrong people, I’m sorry, I’ll pay you, and whip her in the holidays for being careless, all right?”

“You fail to understand,” said Quester, icily. “You are under arrest for blasphemy; your daughter has already been interrogated, confessed, and sentenced. You are about to face the full rigour of the law.”

“Angling for some for yourself, are you, as well as a fine?  Well, name the price,” said Stayvuhsantus, calmly opening a safe and taking out several money cards.

Quester hit him.

He went down.

“Attempted bribery added to the charges,” Quester said. “Cuff him, Burdock.  And who are you?” he asked the young woman.

“I’m Miz Stayvuhsanta’s secretary, but she doesn’t care what HE does,” she said.

“Well, you’re provisionally under arrest until we know who is who,” said Quester.

Purity had found, and arrested, the lady of the house, and with sundry upper servants, hangers-on, poor relations and so on, there was quite a crowd to hurry up to the rotodyne.

There had apparently been a short, but decisive battle, and sundry security guards were tied up, stacked out of the way.  Other militia were coming back with their prisoners, and the rotodyne would be making several journeys. At least this ring of heresy seemed largely confined to this Leetsicon, presumably the closest social hub for the families involved; Jessica’s family would already be on the way to the cells.