The Grand Design (67 page)

So Richius sat beside her on the cold, hard bench, while the oarsmen waited for Timrin’s command to shove off. A few straggling sailors on the dock undid the mooring lines, letting the boat drift away. In the distance, the palace glowed in the light of braziers and torches. Richius suddenly regretted his harsh words to the queen. Her palace, the only home he had right now, seemed painfully inviting. But the vessel floated away from it, and soon the rowers set to work with their oars, pulling them far from Haran Island and across the vast, black lake. Darkness swallowed them, and the pinpoints of lantern light shined insignificantly, barely brightening the few feet in front of them. To their left, the towns and villages of Liss glowed with distant light, but their heading was taking them away from those sights. They were plunging deeper into the darkness, toward a lightless meadow of still water stretching far off and away from Haran Island. Richius peered into the invisible distance, hoping to catch a glimmer of something solid, but there was nothing but endless water and murkiness. That feeling of isolation he had been battling now came roaring over him like a tidal wave.

“Is this right?” he asked incredulously. “Can Timrin see anything?”

Jelena looked away, pretending not to hear him.

“Don’t ignore me, girl,” Richius warned. “Tell me where we’re going.”

“I’ve already told you,” said Jelena wearily. “To Karalon.”

“Right. And what exactly is Karalon?”

“You’ll see.”

“Is it far?”

“Not very.”

“What is it?”

Jelena turned away from him and said no more. The narrow boat slipped farther into the unknown, slowly skimming the water as the oarsmen dipped and pulled them forward. On the bow, Timrin worked the lanterns with an eagle-eye, trying to penetrate the darkness. The lanterns pitched their cold light forward, skidding across the water. Richius watched Timrin work, amazed at the concentration locked on his face.

Part fish
, thought Richius.
All Lissens are part fish.

As Marus had told him, they were part of the sea. Its salty water ran through their veins like blood. But Timrin was far from happy with this mission. Nothing distracted him or broke his concentration, but there was real worry on his face. Whatever Karalon was, it wasn’t a place to be visited at night.

For nearly an hour they rowed without ceasing. Jelena kept up her stony silence, not sparing a word. The towns that had bid them good-bye were gone now, and the lake had finally narrowed into a winding, sluggish river. A stiff breeze blew, making Richius shiver. In the darkness, he heard the splash of night-things moving on the banks and the alien croaking of reptiles. His ears buzzed with the insistent drone of insects. To starboard and port, he could see boggy land-masses, misshapen blobs of earth striped with rivulets. The tendrils of water were everywhere, some as wide as Lissen canals, others barely big enough for a toy boat to maneuver. Timrin periodically held up his
hand, slowing their vessel and making the oarsmen steer through unseen treacheries. Around them, the river narrowed still more. Up ahead was a sharp bend in the waterway.

“Easy here,” Timrin coached. The oarsmen slackened their pace, letting the boat glide. Beneath them, Richius heard the sound of sand scraping the hull. The boat pitched suddenly to port, spilling Jelena into his arms. Timrin cursed and wrapped himself around the sternpost, ordering his men to push off. The sailors on the port side scrambled, grabbing long poles and pushing the boat off whatever had snared them. There were more jarring noises, more lurching as the vessel slowly freed itself. Sure that the boat would tear itself apart, Richius held tight to Jelena. If they spilled into the freezing water, they would surely die.

“I’ve got you!” he assured the queen. Jelena stayed in his arms, grateful for the security as she dug her fingers into the bench to keep from sliding off. Oarsmen and sailors grunted with exertion. Timrin shouted at them to heave, and at last the boat freed itself with a great groan. It splashed back into the water, righting itself and revealing a black outcropping of muddy rocks. As they drifted away from the dangerous peak, Timrin shook his head, shaken and angry. He rushed to check on his queen, but Jelena quickly signaled her safety.

“I’m all right,” she proclaimed. “Go on, Timrin. Watch the course.”

“You’re sure you’re all right?” Richius asked her. He still had his arms around her waist. Flustered, Jelena removed herself from his embrace.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Thank you.”

A little ashamed, Richius drew back.

“Tell me now,” he said. “Where are we? Is this Karalon?”

Jelena nodded. “Yes. Or part of it. We’re very near now.”

“This bog? This is where my army is?”

“There’s an island at the center of the bog,” the queen explained. “Much bigger than these other islands. That’s where your army is, Richius. They’ve been waiting for you, bringing in supplies and getting ready. But it’s been hard to get them all here. That’s what’s taken so much time.”

Richius looked around, astonished by the bleak landscape. He could hardly believe this boggy, desolated place hid his army. “Here?” he blurted. “I don’t understand. Why?”

“Because it’s the safest place for them,” said Jelena. There was an agitation in her tone, a sadness Richius couldn’t fathom. She didn’t look out into the night as Richius did, she didn’t crane her neck to see or show the slightest fear of her surroundings. She merely sat there, mute. Richius took her hand, imploring her to speak.

“Explain it to me,” he said gently. “What is this all about?”

Jelena sighed. “Karalon is very remote. There is only one wide waterway here, and no way to reach the main island on foot. Anyone who goes to Karalon must take a boat like this one. And they must know the way, like Timrin does. It’s a very dangerous route. And secret.”

“That much is obvious. But why?”

“Because they’re all we have,” said Jelena angrily. She pulled her hand away from him. “They’re our only hope, Richius. The only fighters we have to give you. We protect them here because we can’t afford to fight Nar again, not on our own soil.”

Suddenly Richius understood. If Nar were to come back as Queen Jelena feared, there was no way they could reach her precious army, not here in remote Karalon. Even the big guns of dreadnoughts would be useless in this rugged terrain of rivers and lagoons. They were probably far from any Lissen city or major
waterway, deep inside the folds of the Hundred Isles, where no Naren could ever hope to find them or destroy their last hope for revenge. Richius gave the queen a sympathetic smile, conveying his understanding. They were indeed a beautiful race, these Lissens. And desperate beyond imagining.

“So you keep the men here to protect them,” he said.

“Not just men. Women, too. Anyone old enough and willing to serve. This is where we house them. This is where you will train them, make an army out of them. We’ve brought them here for you, Jackal.”

Richius shook his head. “God, the lengths you’ve gone to, Jelena! First you bring me across the world. And now …” He shrugged, unable to find words. “All this. I don’t know what to say.”

“Say that you were wrong,” said Jelena. “Say that we do indeed have an army for you, and that I would never lie to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Richius offered. “I’ve been harsh with you. But I was afraid. And now I don’t know what to think! This is all so astonishing. All of Liss. It’s been so strange for me.”

“Stranger than you imagined, I would think,” agreed Jelena. “But now there is work to do. And if we’re to succeed against our enemies, we must trust each other.” Her gaze bore into him. “Can you do that, Richius?”

“I can try,” said Richius. “I’ve already promised I would do my best for you, Jelena. Do not doubt me on that. Now …” He looked around. “Where is this army of mine?”

“It’s a bad way,” Timrin answered unexpectedly. “We have to go slow or we’ll bottom out.”

“We’re not far, Richius,” counseled Jelena. “Be patient.”

Patience was a virtue Richius had never possessed, but he settled down as best he could, scanning the
watery horizon. Around him, he could see only obscure shapes in the darkness, the vague outlines of thin rivers and blowing batches of water grasses. The rowers had stowed their oars and now were propelling the boat through the narrow lane with long, muck-covered poles. The steady sucking sound of mud and water filled the night. Up ahead, barely lit by lantern light, was the growing outline of an island. It was tall and sturdy-looking, with a beach of jagged rocks infested with cattails and sand dunes.

“Is that where we’re going?” Richius asked, dreading the answer.

“That is Karalon,” replied the queen.

Richius’ heart sank. What kind of army could possibly be hidden here? But despite his dismay, the boat continued toward the island. Timrin leaned out over the prow, his arm wrapped around the sternpost, and guided them in. The expert sailors of Liss bested the treacherous shore, slowly piloting in the craft. Beneath them, the hull screeched and groaned as rocks and sand dunes scraped the boat’s bottom. Men on both sides of the vessel fought off the encroaching dangers with their poles, snaking their queen safely through. At last the boat came to stop, beaching itself with a lurch. The world fell eerily quiet.

“What now?” asked Richius. “Do we get out?”

Jelena’s expression was wicked. “Welcome to Karalon, my hero.”

Richius stood up, then helped Jelena to her feet. Timrin and his men shuffled along the deck, spilling out onto the marshy beach and lowering the gangplank for the queen. Other sailors grabbed lanterns from the boat, preparing for the trek in the darkness. Timrin grabbed one, too, and went to his queen.

“My queen, stay close to me,” he advised. He was older than she by far, and there was real concern in his voice. For the first time Richius noticed an unhealthy-looking scar across his face, and, remarkably, only one
ear. “I don’t want anything happening to you,” he continued. He put a hand out for his queen. “The way is rocky, so watch your step.”

The three departed the vessel, Timrin and Jelena leading the way, Richius following close behind. The air was thick and brackish. Tall patches of cattails tore at them as they walked, hindered by the unstable ground and the constant, gnawing cold. Timrin’s lantern shined out a path, guiding them up and over the dune. And when at last he reached the top, he and Jelena paused, looking out over the island. Richius moved to stand with them at the peak. A flat meadow greeted him, dotted with tents and ramshackle structures and burning bright with torches. In the center of the meadow stood a flagstaff, a tall, slightly bowed tower bearing at its zenith the proud, sea-serpent standard of Liss. A giant barracks with a scissor-trussed ceiling stretched in a line toward the horizon, while on the other side of the field was a training ground, flattened to pulpy earth by a thousand booted feet.

Richius stood on the dune, letting the wind lash him, amazed at the encampment.

“This is incredible,” he whispered. “This is …”

“Your army, Lord Jackal,” answered Jelena.

Richius took a deep breath of the brackish air. He saw figures moving through the encampment, men in Lissen garb and women with helmets and long hair. Mostly the fields were deserted, but there was stirring in the camp, faces looking toward them. A buzz was growing. People were pointing toward the hill.

“I want to see them,” said Richius. “Right now.”

He didn’t wait for Timrin or Jelena to lead. He was drawn inexorably down the hillside, stumbling toward the torchlight. The ground sucked at his boots, but he fought the soft earth, part running, part stumbling down the hill. Jelena and Timrin hurried after him. Jelena called out to Richius, bidding him to slow down, but it was as if he were in a tunnel and could not hear
her, so spellbound was he by the encampment. Only when he reached the bottom of the giant dune did he finally pause. A figure was coming toward him. A woman. Dressed in a long, ragged coat, she wore no covering over her head, and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She was tall and sturdy-looking, with muscled arms and a lean face that stared back at Richius across the night, awed and bewildered. Her wild eyes jumped between Richius and the queen, and then finally came to rest on Richius again, wide with shock. She stopped walking toward him, tried to speak and couldn’t, then dropped to her knees in the dirt, bowing deeply.

“It is you,” she said over the wind. “Lord Jackal.”

Richius stood motionless. Jelena had made it down the slope and was standing next to him, but the strange woman seemed to pay her sovereign no homage at all. The devotion, Richius knew, was all for him. As she knelt before him, she didn’t raise her head or risk insulting him with eye contact. When she spoke her voice was thin, almost shaking.

“I prayed you would come, Lord Jackal. I prayed to almighty God you would lead us.”

“Lord Jackal?” Richius whispered.

Jelena leaned closer to him, saying in his ear, “That is what they call you here. It’s your title. Don’t make them change it, I beg you.”

The young woman stayed on the ground, keeping her face hidden. She was barely twenty, but her demeanor bespoke something older. Richius studied her uncertainly, unsure how to address her. Behind her, milling around the field, were others like her, young men and women both, all pointing and staring at Richius and their queen. The grounds were quickly swelling with noisy interest.

“Rise, girl,” Richius ordered. He went and stood before her, staring down at her. The girl-woman looked
up hesitantly. She had the oceanic green eyes of her race and that same, troubled look as Jelena. She was pretty like Jelena, too. Rougher, less coddled-looking than the queen, but attractive nonetheless. “Who are you?” Richius asked. “Tell me your name.”

The girl licked her wind-dried lips nervously. “My name is Shii, Lord Jackal. Now leader of Karalon.”

“Leader?”

“Forgive me, Lord Jackal,” she stammered. “I correct myself. You are leader here. I’m just …” She struggled for the right word. “Someone who looks after the others.”