The Grand Design (Tyrants & Kings 2)

by John Marco

  ‘We’re to take you to the water garden,’ said the guardian. ‘Queen Jelena will meet you there.’

  The water garden lay just outside the grand room of tapestries, at the end of a domed corridor that terminated in a pair of wrought-iron doors. The doors were flung open wide. Both guides stood aside for Richius to pass and shooed him through the portal. Richius stepped out of the palace and into a vast plain of falling water and gentle hills, encircled by a curved row of tall, white columns. Tiny streams and rivulets wound through the garden, and rose vines climbed up the columns, dormant from winter. Snowflakes fell onto the heads of statues – young, nude women with serene expressions or mischievous smiles. At the left of the garden was a sloping hill with a stairway of slate that disappeared into a thickness of bushes. But most remarkable of all was a giant glass enclosure rising up out of a lake, filled with green water that splashed out over its rim. Gigantic in circumference, the enclosure anchored the garden, drawing Richius inexorably toward it. Behind him, the royal guardians closed the iron doors, sealing him off, but Richius hardly noticed at all, so taken was he by the enclosure and its unusual contents.

  Haran.

  Half a dozen of them stared back at him through the glass, their eyes full of sentience. Two heads each, like the heads of serpents, twisted on prehensile necks while their scaly bodies drifted through the water. Some were small, like trout. Others were as big as sharks. Like the palace they called home, the creatures were divine, even beautiful. Richius put his palm up to the glass and held it there. Seeing his gesture, a haran came up close and put a single mouth to his hand, as if to taste it through the glass. Its other head watched Richius, opening its mouth and blowing out a stream of bubbles. Awe-struck, Richius put his other hand to the glass for the second head, which like its twin now nudged at the barrier between them. Other haran gathered to watch, swishing their spiky tails, amused by the stranger in their midst. Richius laughed with delight. The creatures seemed to sense his joy and bobbed their heads, blowing rhythmic bubbles through their snouts. In pictures these things might have seemed demons, but to Richius they were godlike, just as Marus had claimed. He no longer wondered why the Lissens had worshipped them. As they laughed with him and slashed their fins, he knew why.

  ‘Yes,’ called a voice from above. ‘They are special, aren’t they?’

  Startled, Richius removed his hands from the glass and stepped back from the enclosure. The haran all looked left. Richius followed their lead and gazed up to the top of the hill. There on the stairs stood a woman, a girl really, with long golden hair that fell to her knees and a shift of red and sea-green. Her shoulders were wrapped with silk, and the trailing skirt she wore over her long legs blanketed the ground behind her. Her eyes were emerald and fiery, and her teeth lit her face with a dazzling alabaster glow. She had red lips highly painted and soft cheeks gently rouged, and two hoops of gold dangled from her ears, clinking when she moved. On her feet were a pair of soft slippers that barely repelled the snow, but she stood as if impervious to cold, her hair wet with melted snowflakes. Richius gazed up at her.

  Sabrina, he whispered to himself. She looks like Sabrina.

  ‘You’re the Jackal of Nar,’ said the young woman. She began descending the stairs, hardly disturbing the snow.

  ‘I’m Richius Vantran,’ said Richius. ‘Who are you?’

  She waited until she had reached the bottom of the stairs before answering. ‘My name is Jelena,’ she said gently. ‘I am queen here.’

  ‘Queen? Oh, but that’s impossible. You’re so . . .’

  ‘Young?’ guessed the woman. She went and stood before him, flashing him a lovely smile. ‘Yes, I am young. I am also queen, Richius Vantran.’ She took his hand in hers, then, remarkably, dropped to her knees before him, lowering her gaze to the ground and soaking her skirt in the wet earth. ‘I am your servant, Richius Vantran. Liss is yours.’

  ‘No, don’t,’ begged Richius. ‘Rise, please,’ He tried to urge her up but she would not come.

  ‘Liss is yours,’ she repeated adamantly. ‘We have very little for you to take, but whatever you see, whatever you desire, is yours. This is our thanks for your coming to us.’

  ‘My lady, please rise. That is all I ask of you.’

  She did not rise but she did at last look up at him. ‘Richius Vantran, Jackal of Nar, you have come to help us. You must understand our gratitude. Do not shun what little we can offer you.’

  As gently as he could, Richius pulled his hand away. ‘Queen Jelena, Prakna is already giving me all that I could want. I am here for less than noble purposes. You must already know that.’

  ‘You’re here for revenge,’ said the girl. ‘I know about you, Richius Vantran. You are not so different from us. That is why you’ve agreed to help us.’

  ‘You’ve heard fairy tales, my lady. Too many of them, I think.’ Richius stooped a little, took her hand again, and drew her to her feet. ‘You mustn’t bow to me. You’re a queen. And I’m not worth it.’

  She was so perfect, like her palace, and her hand was soft and flawless like her face. When he pulled her up she made a sad grimace.

  ‘I’m not sure I can do the things Prakna’s asked of me,’ Richius continued. ‘Maybe everything you’ve heard about me is wrong. I will try, though. I’ll do my best. But you should know I do this thing for selfish reasons.’

  The young queen looked away, turning her attention to the aquarium. ‘And you should know that we’ve brought you here for selfish reasons, too. As I said, we’re not so different from each other.’

  Richius studied her. She was waiting for something. Why, he wondered, had she brought him here? Very softly he padded closer and pretended to watch the miraculous fish, waiting for her to speak. When she did her voice was low, rife with sadness.

  ‘I want to thank you for coming to us, Richius Vantran. I can make you no promises, but I tell you again what I told you before. Anything you want while you are here on my soil, I will grant you willingly.’ Her eyes shifted from the enclosure, and she realized suddenly that he was staring at her. She smiled. ‘What is it? Do you see something?’

  ‘Forgive me,’ said Richius. ‘You remind me of someone, that’s all’

  ‘Someone special?’

  Richius nodded. ‘Oh, yes. Tell me, Queen Jelena, why did you bring me here? I don’t mean to sound rude, but is there anything I should know?’

  Jelena’s face reddened. ‘Am I that obvious? It is nothing, really. Call it curiosity.’

  ‘I would call it that if I thought that’s all it was.’ Richius stepped a little closer and dared to touch her hand again. ‘Anything?

  His gesture made her tremble, and she looked for all the world like a little girl. ‘King Vantran, I needed to see you. I’ve waited for months to know what you were like. I couldn’t wait any longer, not another day. They speak of you in high tones here. Prakna says you are a great leader. My mother and father called you a hero. I had to see you for myself.”

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Richius. ‘Your mother and father? Who are they?’

  She laughed prettily. ‘You said I was young, didn’t you? How long do you think I’ve been queen? My mother and father ruled here before me, King Vantran. They were the true King and Queen of Liss.’ She reached out and touched his face. ‘You were twenty-five years old when your father died. That’s when you became king of Aramoor. I am seventeen. Barely a woman. And I am lost and need your help.’

  Suddenly Richius grasped the sadness in the young queen’s eyes. It was that same vacant look that he had seen reflected back at him from mirrors two years ago, when he had ascended the throne of Aramoor. Hardly more than a boy, he had been forced past manhood directly to kingship, and the shock had left him reeling. As it had, no doubt, this girl.

  ‘Queen Jelena, I’m sorry for you,’ he offered. ‘Truly, I am. Your pain must be great.’

  ‘And my confusion,’ said Jelena. ‘King Vantran, I need to know what to do, and there is no one
on Liss who can tell me. Just as there is no one here to lead an army for me. Prakna is a hero, but he is not king. The people look to me to lead. And I’m just a child.’ She grimaced. ‘As you so rightly observed.’

  ‘No,’ Richius corrected. ‘I was wrong to say that. Do you know what Prakna and the others call you, Queen Jelena? They call you extraordinary. They say you are remarkable. And they are right. Anyone who can step onto a throne at so young an age, even survive it, must be remarkable.’

  A blush colored Jelena’s cheeks. ‘You are kind, King Vantran. But I’ll need more than words, even pretty ones. I need guidance. When you make this army, when you work it into a thing you think will succeed, will you also come to me? I’m asking for a tutor, King Vantran. Can you do this, too?’

  It was such a sad, misguided question, Richius couldn’t help but smile. ‘Queen Jelena—’

  ‘Just Jelena,’ she interrupted. ‘I don’t want to be called queen by you.’

  ‘Nor I king. And I am not a king anymore, anyway. But my lady, I fear you’ve misjudged me. Maybe Prakna, too. Maybe all of Liss, even. I am just a man. And just a vengeful one at that. Maybe I have some knowledge of tactics Prakna doesn’t. I hope so. But I swear to you, if you think I can teach you anything about governing, you are wrong.’ A great, grieving guilt dropped over him. ‘Aramoor isn’t mine anymore, because I am the world’s worst king. I lost my father’s homeland because I can’t govern.’ He scoffed at himself bitterly. ‘You want a tutor? You’ve chosen the wrong hero, my lady.’

  Queen Jelena put her hand on his shoulder and spun him around to face her. ‘I brought you to me because I needed to see the king a boy can be. Tell me there is a queen inside this girl-’

  ‘I’m sure there is,’ said Richius. ‘These men follow you because they see the queen you already are. They are loyal to you, and that’s all you will ever need. All the other decisions come from inside you.’ He pointed his finger into her chest. ‘Listen to your heart. Queen Jelena. Not me.’

  ‘My heart tells me to trust you,’ said Jelena. ‘Just as it told me to bring you here. Prakna speaks very highly of you. He says that you alone can form the army to invade Crote. He says that you are a military genius.’

  Richius laughed. ‘Yes, I’ve heard that one before. A good joke. My lady, I’m nothing more than the men I commanded. Just like Prakna and Marus and all the others make you strong. Your father must have known that about being king. He should have taught you that before he died.’

  Jelena’s face tightened. ‘Maybe you’re right. But my father and mother didn’t plan on dying. It wasn’t some long illness that killed them. It was Narens.’

  ‘Narens? Forgive me for asking, but how did that happen? This island seems so safe.’

  ‘It was a long war with Nar, King Vantran.’

  ‘Richius.’

  Jelena glowed. ‘All right. Richius. The war lasted for ten years. And by the end, Liss needed everyone to defend her. Even my parents. When my father was younger, he was a schooner captain, like Prakna. He took to a ship against the Naren armada. My mother went with him. So did everyone else in the palace. I was left alone here with just a few women to look after me. All of Liss fought off Nar, Richius. And almost everyone died. Like my parents.’

  ‘Good god,’ groaned Richius. ‘See? I told you I was a fool, Jelena. Your father sounds like a great man. And your mother a great woman.’

  ‘They were great,’ the girl agreed. ‘And now I will avenge them.’

  They stared at each other, and again that mirrored reflection stared back at Richius from across the years. He saw himself in the girl; the sum of all the hatred he had ever felt.

  ‘Jelena,’ he began carefully. ‘This isn’t right, what you’re saying. It’s fine to mourn your parents, but I think you should leave vendettas to others.’

  ‘Why?’ asked the girl, plainly surprised. ‘It’s a queen’s duty to protect her people. And it’s a daughter’s duty to avenge her parents. At least that’s the way we think in Liss.’

  ‘Then you’re right,’ said Richius. ‘We’re not so different, you and I. But you should think on what I’ve lost, what I’ve given up and left behind. I have a wife and child back in Lucel-Lor. I left them to come here, and if I don’t return they won’t have me anymore. They’ll be all alone.’ He took her chin in his hand to make her listen. ‘That’s what revenge does to a person, Jelena. Guard against it. You’re too young to know such hatred.’

  ‘I’m seventeen,’ she said defensively. ‘Old enough to know right from wrong. Wrong is what Nar did to Liss. Right is what we’re going to do to them now.’

  ‘Then don’t ask me for advice,’ Richius growled. ‘Not if you won’t listen to it.’

  ‘I need your advice on how to rule, Richius.’ Jelena was pleading with him, confused by his anger. ‘I know you can help me. Just like you’ll help our army.’

  ‘Army? What will you give me, Jelena? Children? I didn’t cross an ocean to lead a bunch of kids into a slaughterhouse. If that’s what you have in mind, forget it.’

  ‘You will have the best Liss has to offer,’ said Jelena. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it with adoration. ‘I told you – anything you wish in Liss is yours to take. Ask me for anything and I’ll see you get it. The sons and daughters of Liss are yours to command.’

  ‘Daughters? Oh, no, Jelena. No women. Not in any army I lead.’

  The young queen was indignant. ‘In Liss, women fight,’ she said. ‘In Nar they might be baubles, but not here. We defended our homeland for ten years. Now we will avenge it.’

  ‘Then do it without me! God, you ask the impossible of me, girl. I won’t let women be massacred. I’ve got enough on my conscience to last a lifetime. I don’t need that, too.’

  He turned his back on her and stared into the aquarium. A haran looked at him through the glass, its twin heads bobbing curiously. He felt Jelena at his back, felt her hands on his shoulders. His eyes dropped down to watch her jeweled fingers caressing him.

  ‘Richius,’ she whispered sadly. ‘This can’t work without you. Young men and women, maybe some older folk – that’s all we have to offer you. But you can make an army out of them. I know you can.’

  ‘And if I don’t?’

  ‘If you don’t, then Liss will never be avenged. My parents will have been murdered without recourse, and Nar will go on as it always has, taking whatever it wants from countries like Aramoor.’

  Richius shut his eyes. ‘Aramoor . . .’

  ‘Yes. And Biagio will go free. He’ll never be punished for his crimes, or for killing your first wife.’

  ‘What?’ gasped Richius, turning on her.

  ‘Yes, I know all about Sabrina. Is that who I look like, Richius? Do I remind you of her?’

  Jelena’s questions were calculating and brutal. She was already more of a ruler than she knew.

  ‘Yes,’ admitted Richius. ‘Yes, you do.’

  ‘I’m glad. So when you look at me, remember her. Remember her head in a box, and then tell me you won’t lead our army. Do you think you can do that?’

  Richius said nothing. His silence was enough to bring a satisfied nod from the queen.

  ‘You’ll do it,’ Jelena said. ‘Prakna knew you would, and I know it, too.’ She went to him and put her head against his chest, giving him an affectionate squeeze. The gesture made Richius uncomfortable. ‘Thank you,’ she breathed. ‘Thank you, Jackal, for helping us.’

  Richius brought up his hand, let it hover uncertainly over her head, then lightly stroked her golden hair. It was too late to scold her. She was already ruined. Revenge had devoured her, as it had Prakna and Marus and all the others of this ancient nation. Richius knew there was nothing he could do to save her from herself. Without knowing why, he kissed her head.

  ‘I’ll do my best for you,’ he said gently. ‘I promise you that.’

  The young queen rested against his chest. ‘I know you will. You’re the hero Prakna told me about.’

&nb
sp; Twenty-Four

  Homecoming

  The snow had slackened into flurries when Prakna finally reached his home village of Chaldris. It was late in the day and the sun was low. Shadows darkened the water avenues and the spaces between buildings, and Prakna’s little conveyance drifted across Balaro Canal, bearing him home. As was customary, he stood in the jarl, ignoring the bench seat while the driver poled his way through the canal. The seats were for children and old women. Men always stood in the jarl. And Balaro Canal was always choked with jarls. The little boats were everywhere, moored to docking rings and bobbing on the current. Chaldris was an ancient part of Liss, densely populated and well travelled. Prakna had been born here. It was where he had spent his life, when he wasn’t on the ocean, and every time he saw his village it brought a pensive smile to his face.

  Like all of Liss, Chaldris was a thousand tiny islands, threaded together by canals and a network of stone bridges spanning overhead. One had to be very careful in the jarl. There were always bridges built too low, and tall men like Prakna often had to duck to avoid a broken skull. Other bridges, like the one they were approaching now, were so high only a bird could bang into them. Prakna gazed upward as the little boat slid toward his apartments. The bridge to his home was covered with lichens and vines, all overgrown and carelessly left untrimmed. J’lari had been a fine gardener once, but now she barely ever lifted a finger. Behind the bridge, the sun was shrouded in a swathe of clouds. Tiny snowflakes drifted down onto Prakna’s face. Along the narrow avenues and bridges, familiar people went about their business, occasionally waving to the returning hero, but Prakna hardly heard them. He returned their greetings perfunctorily, mostly out of duty, yet his eyes were locked on his apartments high above the village. By now J’lari would have heard the news. She would be expecting him. Prakna sucked his lower lip. It had been so long since he had seen her.