The Grand Design (86 page)

“Stop!”

Breaking free, she lunged one more time toward her birthday gift. Then, barely an inch from the angel, she saw a dazzling light.

The force of the explosion roared through Martyr’s Square, deafening the crowd. Herrith put his hands to
his ears and watched a rolling fireball consume his cathedral. A sudden shockwave blew by with a vengeful wind, tearing at his garments. All around him priests and patrons screamed as bits of burning metal rained down around them. Fire poured from the cathedral’s gates, and the great metal steeple groaned as its foundation weakened, threatening to topple. Giant plumes of inky smoke belched from the shattered stained glass. Martyr’s Square filled with a chorus of screams.

Herrith collapsed to his knees. The hot light of the dying cathedral burned his blue eyes. He looked away, covering his face with his hands, and knew with dreadful certainty that Lorla was dead. And all that came to him was one word, a name that had haunted him for the past year. Defeated, Herrith sobbed his nemesis’ name.

“Biagio …”

T
he day before he was to set out for Crote, Queen Jelena summoned Richius back to Haran Island. Prakna was with him, as were Simon and Shii, too, for she was Richius’ lieutenant now and would be an integral part of their invasion. Prakna piloted them to the queen’s island aboard a catboat. It had been the
first time Richius had left Karalon since his arrival, and stepping foot on Haran Island felt strange to him.

Since sending Shani back to Dyana aboard one of Prakna’s vessels, Richius had felt profoundly alone. He had Simon and his work kept him busy, but he missed his daughter. And his wife. Part of him looked forward to Jelena’s company. She was young, like Dyana, and she reminded him of his wife sometimes. As he walked quietly toward the queen’s palace, Richius remembered what Marus had said to him weeks ago, that Jelena was a remarkable woman.

The queen wanted to know what her subjects had planned. Tomorrow, they would set sail on the long journey to Crote, and Prakna had told Richius that the queen was nervous. With good reason, Richius knew. His army had trained hard, but they were still unseasoned. Richius wasn’t sure how they would perform in battle, though he wouldn’t tell that to the queen. Nonetheless, and to his great surprise, Richius was looking forward to the campaign against Crote.

While he would have liked more time to plan the invasion, Prakna’s raiders were getting tired. They needed a port close to the Empire from which to launch their attacks; Crote would serve that purpose. It was warm and very near the Black City. And it didn’t have a large army; at least, not according to Simon. Richius glanced over at the Naren who was walking beside him. Simon held several rolled-up parchments in his hand, a collection of maps he had been working on for days. At Richius’ insistence he had drawn up all that he knew about Crote’s coast and waterways, as well as the layout of Biagio’s mansion. Richius had been impressed with Simon’s knowledge of the terrain. And the spy had been remarkably forthcoming with details, a fact that eased everyone’s suspicions.

Everyone except Prakna. The fleet commander did nothing to hide his disdain for Simon. To Prakna, Simon was not only a Naren pig, but now he was also
a traitor. The Lissen commander kept a close eye on Simon whenever he was near, and when they argued, which was often, Prakna was vocal. But Simon had the hide of a greegan; insults bounced off him like a summer rain. And Simon had changed. He had stopped apologizing for his colored past and looked toward the future with a single-minded purpose. Only one goal drove Simon now—to save Eris from Biagio.

As the foursome approached the palace, Simon slowed his pace, staring up at Jelena’s home and marveling at the gate. The great, gushing arch greeted them like a warm smile. Behind the palace, the sun was beginning to dip. Its red rays made the water jump with color.

“That’s beautiful,” Simon said. “Like something from a dream.”

“That’s what you pigs have been trying to destroy,” quipped Prakna. He breezed past Simon and headed toward the arch.

When the rest of them reached the spouting entrance, a pair of Jelena’s guards came out to greet them. Prakna did the talking. The sentries gave them all polite bows and led them into a room Richius had never seen, a council chamber near the western gates. Queen Jelena was already there, sitting at the head of a long table. Goblets of wine had been set out for each of them, along with a few plates of food. A bank of windows offered a perfect view of the setting sun. The young queen rose when they entered.

“Hello, my friends,” she said brightly, embracing Prakna first, then Richius, whom she favored with a warm kiss. Richius flushed at her affection, embarrassed but enjoying it.

“Jelena,” he said, smiling. “I’m glad to see you again.”

Her eyes flashed with poorly hidden affection. “And I you,” she said. She waved to dismiss the sentries who’d led her guests inside. The pair left the council
chamber and closed the doors behind them. Jelena took Richius’ hand and led him to the table. “Sit, all of you, please,” she told the group. She guided Richius to a chair beside her own; Prakna quickly grabbed the seat on her other side. Shii sat down dutifully beside the commander, but Simon remained standing.

“Queen Jelena,” he said. “I’m Simon Darquis.” He gave her a perfect bow. “I’m honored to meet you.”

“Yes,” said the queen. “The Naren spy. Welcome, Simon Darquis. I thank you, especially, for coming.”

They regarded each other awkwardly. Richius felt the invisible wall between them. In her own way, Jelena hated Narens almost as much as Prakna. She did a far better job of hiding her contempt, however, and when she offered Simon her hand, he kissed it like a nobleman.

“Sit down, Darquis,” grumbled Prakna. “We’ve business to discuss.”

“That’s why I’m here,” said Simon. He ignored Prakna and spoke directly to the queen. “Thank you, my lady, for letting me help you.”

Jelena blanched. “It is on the suggestion of Lord Jackal that I trust you, sir. When word of your arrival reached me, I confess I was troubled. But Richius speaks well of you.” Her gaze narrowed. “Please don’t make a fool out of him.”

Simon took the implied threat genteelly. “I’ve given my word, and I will give it again to you now. I’m here to help.” He laid his maps out on the table, spreading them wide for all to see. “I know Biagio’s island better than almost anyone. I was born and raised on Crote, and I’ve spent time with him in his mansion. These maps contain all the details I know.”

Jelena nodded. “Good,” she said, taking her seat. She leaned back, regarding each of them in turn. To Richius she seemed like an ice sculpture, glistening with beauty yet hard and cold to the touch. She was every bit the queen, suddenly. At last Simon took a
seat beside Richius, keeping his sharp eyes on the young ruler.

“You’ll all be leaving tomorrow,” said Jelena. “And it will be weeks before I see any of you again. I brought you here because I wanted to know what you’re feeling, what you think of your chances against Crote. Karalon is remote, even for me. So, a simple question. Are you ready?”

“We are,” Prakna declared. “The
Prince of Liss
is ready to sail, as are the other ships. We’re taking four schooners with us. That will be enough to get the troops to Crote. I’d prefer more but the others are still engaged in Nar. I plan to send word to my armada as soon as Crote is secure. Other ships can rendezvous with us then.”

Jelena’s gaze flicked toward Richius. “And you, Lord Jackal? What do you think? Are your people ready?”

It was a difficult question, and Richius didn’t really know how to answer. But across the table he noticed Shii straighten proudly in her seat, and knew that he could have only one reply.

“They’re a good bunch,” he said. “Shii has helped me work with them, and I know they won’t disappoint us. They haven’t had much time to prepare, but they’ve trained hard and they follow my orders. I think we’re ready, Jelena.”

“We
are
ready, my Queen,” added Shii earnestly. “I know we are. Lord Jackal speaks truly. We have trained hard, and we’re eager for this mission. We won’t fail. I promise you that, on the soul of my son.”

“Richius makes good choices, no doubt,” said Jelena. “He must think highly of you to make you his second, Shii.”

Shii looked down at the table modestly. “I will try my best.”

“And lastly, you,” said Jelena, staring pointedly at
Simon. “Tell me, Naren. What do you think of our chances for success?”

“I think they’re far better with my involvement,” said Simon. He was never shy, and the queen’s iciness didn’t frighten him. “Without me, you’d be going in blind. Richius practically admitted that to me. But I’ve got everything you need right in here.” He tapped his skull. “Don’t worry, Queen Jelena. We’ll take the island for you. And get Biagio in the bargain.”

“You seem remarkably sure of that,” quipped the queen. “Why?”

“Because Biagio’s not a god,” replied Simon, “no matter what he thinks. And his mansion isn’t protected by many guards. He’s got a handful, maybe forty in all, but Crote doesn’t have an army. They’ve never needed one.”

“They’ve always had the protection of the Empire,” Richius added.

Simon nodded. “That’s right. So nine hundred men and women armed with swords can overrun the mansion easily. And once that is taken, Crote will be ours.”

“What about the populace?” argued Prakna. “Won’t they fight us?”

“No,” said Simon. “I’m Crotan, remember; I know what they’re like. Without Biagio, they won’t lift a finger against us, not if we secure the mansion and make our presence known. They’ll see the Lissen ships in their waters, and they’ll know they’ve been beaten. They won’t fight back.”

“What about other countries?” asked the queen. “Do you think they’ll come to Crote’s aid?”

“How can they?” asked Simon. “Other countries have armies, but the Black Fleet would have to take them to Crote, and the fleet isn’t anywhere near Crote anymore.” He glanced at Richius. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“I think so. Prakna?”

“Darquis is correct,” said the commander. “My
schooners have them busy off the coasts of the Empire. By the time the Black Fleet does return to Crote, we’ll have it secured. I intend to call my armada back to surround the island. Even the Black Fleet won’t be able to break us. Not this time.”

Richius loved the conviction in Prakna’s voice. He knew why men followed him so willingly. Prakna was the lion of the ocean.

“Prakna,” asked the queen. “Are you satisfied with the maps Simon Darquis has made?”

The fleet commander gave a grudging nod. “They seem adequate.”

“They’re better than that,” snapped Simon. “They’re as detailed as you’ll need, Prakna. I know something of tactics, remember.”

“Oh, we remember,” sneered Prakna. “Perfectly.”

Richius cleared his throat. “Fellows …”

“Don’t patronize me, Lissen,” said Simon hotly. “You should be glad I’m helping you.”

“Glad? A traitorous Naren pig? If it wasn’t for the Jackal—”

“Stop,” flared Richius, slamming a fist down on the table that sent the wine goblets jumping. “I don’t want this arguing. We’ve got a mission to perform. We have to work together. This bickering is pointless.”

“I agree,” said the queen mildly. “Remember where you are, please.”

Prakna took a breath. “Forgive me, Jelena. You’re right, of course.”

Richius smiled. “You see? We’re a happy family, Jelena.”

“Yes,” laughed the queen. “You’ve done a splendid job with them, Richius. If they don’t kill themselves on the way to Crote, we might have a chance.”

“We’ll have more than a chance, my Queen,” Shii interjected. “Simon Darquis is right. If Crote is unprotected, we’ll have no problem taking the island from Biagio. I promise you, my Queen. I won’t let us fail.”

“None of us will,” agreed Prakna. He kept his eyes on Simon as he spoke. “Isn’t that right, Darquis?”

Simon chuckled darkly. “I have my own reasons for wanting this to succeed. It won’t fail because of
me
, that’s for certain.”

“Good,” said Prakna. “Then we understand each other.”

Simon was about to reply, but Richius interrupted him.

“We won’t fail, Jelena,” he said quickly. “We’ve got good people and a solid plan.”

“And we’ve got you to lead them,” added Jelena with a smile. Richius saw that familiar fondness in her eyes again. Jelena was so beautiful. Like Sabrina. He supposed the resemblance had something to do with his need for victory. Maybe it was that part of him that still wanted to rescue Sabrina.

Too late
, he reminded himself.

Sabrina was dead and there was no going back. This was something he was doing for
himself.
And when it was done, he would return to Lucel-Lor and live there with Dyana and Shani, satisfied that he had killed Biagio. Maybe then Sabrina’s ghost would stop haunting him.

“I want to be clear on something,” he said, surprising himself. “After we take Crote, you’re all on your own. Just like Simon, I’m in this for my own reasons. I want Biagio. That’s all.”