The Grand Design

by John Marco

  As he studied his charts and papers, Richius ran a worried hand through his hair. He hadn't been sleeping lately, and his eyelids drooped as he tried to read his scratchy penmanship. A draft from the tent flap stirred the papers on the table and crept over his skin, making him shiver. He poured himself another cup of hot tea and wrapped his hands about it for warmth, then saw Shii in the doorway, watching him. She was a bold woman normally, but shy when around her new lord. She didn't smile when he noticed her, but instead offered an apologetic grimace.

  "Shii?" Richius asked. "You need me?"

  Shii wavered in the door. "I'm sorry, Lord Jackal," she said. "There is someone to see you."

  "Who?"

  "Fleet Commander Prakna," said the woman. "He's just arrived. He says he needs to speak with you urgently."

  "Prakna?" Richius sprang to his feet. He hadn't seen the commander since coming to Liss. "Here?"

  "Yes, Lord," said Shii. "But he's not alone. He's brought someone."

  "Shii," said Richius mildly. "I don't understand. Who's with Prakna?"

  "Lord Jackal, I think it's a Naren," Shii replied. "I saw him from Prakna's boat."

  Richius drifted slowly over to Shii, making very sure he understood her. "A Naren is here with Prakna?"

  Shii shrugged. "He looks like a Naren, dark like you. I saw him from a distance. Prakna was landing his catboat. He called across to us, saying it was urgent he see you. I think you should come."

  "I think you're right." Richius buttoned up his coat and pushed back his hair, eager to see Prakna again but worried about who--or what--the commander had brought with him. Maybe a prisoner, caught in one of the Lissen raids. Or a spy, perhaps. Whoever he was, Prakna wouldn't have brought him to Karalon without the best of reasons.

  Richius followed Shii out of the tent and onto the field where teams of Lissens worked with spears, training with them just as he'd shown them, burying the blunt ends in the ground to deflect a charging horse. Richius frowned a little. He didn't even know if Crote had horses! He might have been training them for nothing. He followed Shii toward the dunes. Prakna was already coming toward them in the distance. Three well-armed Lissen sailors were with him, surrounding a fourth man with a bundle in his arms that looked like a child. Richius squinted to see better. The man was tall and lean, dark like a Naren. When he saw the man's face, Richius had an odd flash of familiarity. It looked like . . .

  He paused. "Son of a bitch!"

  Shii turned on him, worried. "Lord Jackal? What is it?"

  It was impossible. Richius knew it was, and yet there he stood, walking with Prakna.

  "Simon," he whispered dreadfully. "What the hell . . .?"

  "Simon? You know that man?"

  Richius wasn't listening. Prakna was coming closer, his face rigid. Neither he nor Simon waved at Richius when they noticed him. Richius couldn't move. That was Simon, wasn't it? What was he carrying? The men and women on the field stopped what they were doing. They had noticed the commander and his odd companion, and looked as shocked as Richius at the intrusion. But as they drew closer Richius lost all doubt about what he was seeing. Simon's face was perfectly clear. And the child in his arms was no less a mystery. When he realized it was Shani, Richius bolted forward in terror.

  "Shani!" he cried, racing toward them. "My God, what's wrong? What happened?"

  Prakna put up his hands quickly. "Easy, boy," the commander urged. "There's nothing wrong. Your daughter's safe. I looked her over myself."

  Richius caught up to them and ripped his daughter out of Simon's arms. Shani squealed with delight when she saw him. Richius put his hands to her face, holding her close, thrilled and horrified to see her.

  "My God, what are you doing here?" he roared at Simon. "What happened? Where's Dyana? Is she safe?"

  "Richius," Simon sputtered. "I swear to God, Dyana's safe. I swear to God."

  Richius stepped up to him. "What is this, Simon?" he hissed. "Answer me! What are you doing here? Why do you have Shani?"

  "He came here on a Naren ship," Prakna answered. "We intercepted her on her way here to Liss. She was coming here for you, Richius. This Naren said he had your daughter. I brought him here as soon as I could."

  Richius looked at Simon. "What's going on?"

  Simon went white, chewing his lip with consideration. He glanced at Prakna, then at all the Lissens in the field, staring at him. "It's . . . difficult," he said. "I don't really know where to start."

  Prakna exploded, bringing up a flashing boot and kicking Simon in the back. The blow sent Simon sprawling to his hands and knees in the dirt before Richius.

  "You'd better talk, you Naren pig," Prakna threatened. "Or I'll cut your heart out and eat it."

  "Simon," began Richius gravely. "I think you'd better give me an explanation."

  Simon didn't get to his feet. He merely knelt in the dirt with his head bowed, sighing miserably. "I took your daughter," he said. "I'm not who you think I am." He raised his face to Richius. "You were right about me the first time, Richius. I'm Roshann."

  Roshann. The word hung in the air. Richius stared down at Simon, a man he had come to call friend, and all the world came crashing down on his shoulders, suffocating him. He glared at Simon in disbelief, not believing, or not wanting to believe.

  "It's true," said Simon. "I'm sorry. I took your daughter away from Dyana. My mission was to bring her back to Crote for--"

  "No!" roared Richius. "Do not say it!"

  Simon closed his eyes. "I'm sorry, Richius. It's true."

  Richius hugged Shani closer, looking her over with worry. She seemed fine, albeit pale, and she laughed happily, running her fingers over her father's face. A knot of emotion swelled in Richius' throat. He wanted to weep, or to run from them all with his daughter, to dash across the ocean to Dyana and hide them both away. But something else grew in him, too. Without thinking he handed his daughter to Shii, then lunged at Simon.

  "Bastard!" cried Richius. He was straddling Simon and wringing his neck. "How could you do this?"

  "Had to . . ." Simon gasped. "Had to!"

  A crowd was gathering, but Richius hardly saw. His vision had gone red.

  "You tell me what that devil Biagio wants!" he roared. "You tell me or I'll kill you!"

  Simon could barely breathe. His face purpled as he tried to speak. "Shani," he managed awkwardly. "Your daughter . . ."

  "Why?" Richius lifted Simon's head, then banged it hard against the ground. "What for?"

  The Naren stared at him sadly, uttering a remarkable word. "You."

  Suddenly, Richius stopped. He sat on Simon's chest, reflecting. Biagio was still on the hunt. Even after all this time.

  "Did he send you?" Richius asked. He was breathing hard and shaking with rage. "Did Biagio send you to take my daughter?"

  Simon looked away in shame. "Yes. He wanted me to take her back to Crote. I think he wanted to lure you there."

  "Where's Dyana?" asked Richius. He took up fistfuls of Simon's clothes and gave him a violent shake. "If you've hurt her . . ."

  "I didn't, I swear," said Simon. "She's safe. She's still in Falindar."

  Richius sat back, closing his eyes. Dyana must be in agony, he knew, and the thought of his wife in so much pain was staggering. Losing control, he made a fist and slammed it against Simon's face. Simon winced at the blow but did not cry out. He only stared back at Richius as blood gushed out of his nose.

  "Richius, I--"

  "Don't talk to me," hissed Richius. "Don't you ever. You may have killed my wife without knowing it, you bastard. I should have known when I met you what filth you are."

  "My God, we will kill him," spat Prakna. "Let me take him away, Richius. Give me the honor of gutting this pig, please!"

  Still Simon said nothing. He seemed lost, almost like a child.

  "Is that what you want, Simon?" Richius barked. "Should I have Prakna cut your liver out?"

  "It's what he deserves!" Prakna flared. "Jackal, please!"

 
"Say something, Simon. Please say something to keep me from killing you."

  Still Simon wouldn't answer. He closed his eyes, blocking out the world.

  "Simon, look at me," Richius ordered. "Open your eyes and look at me."

  Simon looked. His eyes were deep, rich with pain.

  "Why did you bring her back to me?" Richius asked softly. "There's something, I know there is. Tell me."

  The Naren's lips began to tremble. "Because I love a woman."

  "Rubbish! Don't listen to him, Richius!"

  Richius put a hand up to quiet Prakna. "What do you mean?" he asked Simon. "What woman? A wife?"

  "Not a wife. Not yet." Simon turned his bleeding face away. His nose was on fire, just like the first time Richius had broken it. "She's trapped on Crote. I had to do this, Richius. I had to. Or Biagio would have kept her from me." He put his hands to his face. Richius thought he might be weeping. "Now he'll kill her. He will, if we don't stop him. That's why I brought your girl back to you. God, Richius, help me. . . ."

  "What? Help you how?"

  Simon swallowed his choking emotions, summoning enough steadiness to look at Richius directly. "I can help you with your invasion of Crote. I know Crote better than anyone. If you'll let me, I can get Eris out of there! You can--"

  "Lies!" Prakna roared. "Don't listen to him, Jackal!"

  "I'm not lying!" Simon cried. He was desperate now, near hysteria. "Please, Richius, listen to me. I can help you. If you'll let me go with you I can lead you straight to Biagio. Then I can rescue Eris and you can take the island. It's true, every word of it!"

  Richius shook his head sadly. "You swore to me once before, Simon. Remember? You swore you'd never harm Shani or Dyana. How am I supposed to believe you now, after what you've done?"

  "I can help you," Simon said again. "I'm not lying. If I was lying I wouldn't have brought Shani back to you."

  It was sound enough logic, Richius supposed. He glanced at Shani, who had her little arms wrapped around Shii's neck and was looking down at him, confused by the whole situation. Richius rose and went to his daughter, taking her from Shii. Prakna reached down and lifted Simon roughly to his feet. The fleet commander held the Naren by the collar as he waited for Richius' answer. They were all waiting--Prakna's men, Simon, Shii and all the Lissens--staring at him as if he had some great wisdom to impart. But Richius ignored them. He smiled at Shani, cooing at her and rubbing his nose against hers, and all he wanted was to be away from here, back in Falindar with Dyana. He would have to get word to her. Somehow, Prakna would have to send a ship back to Falindar, to let Dyana know their daughter was safe.

  "Oh, Shani," he sighed. "Your mother must be so worried about you."

  "Richius," Prakna interrupted. "What should I do with this piece of filth?"

  "I'm not lying, Richius," said Simon desperately. "You have to believe me. I'm not asking this for myself, but for Eris. We were to be married when I returned to Crote with Shani. But if I don't return, Biagio will kill her. He will, and that won't be my fault. It will be yours if you turn me away."

  "Don't you dare blame me for any of this," flared Richius. "And if this Eris is anything like you, I say let her die."

  Simon shook his head. "You don't mean that. I know you don't. Eris isn't like me at all. I may be evil, but she's not. She's innocent." He tried to shake off Prakna's grip, but the fleet commander didn't let go, so Simon stood there imploringly. He looked exhausted, as if he was about to collapse. "Richius, please. I can help you. I know Crote. And you don't, do you?"

  "Very perceptive, Roshann," spat Richius. But he knew Simon was right. Without at least a map of Crote, they might all be cut to pieces. In typical Roshann fashion, Simon had maneuvered them into a corner. Richius wondered if he had any choice at all. Yet even with so much logic, Richius couldn't bring himself to answer Simon. At that moment, he couldn't even look at him.

  "I'm going to my quarters," he said. "And I don't want to be bothered. Not by any of you."

  He turned away. Simon called after him desperately, but he ignored the Naren's pleas. Only when Prakna called did he bother to answer.

  "Jackal?" asked Prakna. "What should I do with him?"

  "Nothing," replied Richius bitterly, then walked away.

  That night, sleep didn't come to Richius. Too restless from the day's events, he spent hours alone in his private quarters, a little room attached to one of the barracks and warmed only by a small stone hearth the Lissens had built for him in the center of the room, far enough from the close wooden walls to keep the place from catching fire. The floor was dirt and the hearth was dug deep, with poorly cut slate tiles laid on the ground to lend a semblance of finish. Richius had given Shani his bed. A carefully preserved fire glowed in the chamber, turning her sleeping face orange above a pile of blankets. It was very late now and Shani was exhausted, not only from the trip but also from the hours of attention Richius had lavished on her. Seeing his daughter again had done something to him. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He wouldn't.

  A cloud of insects droned somewhere off in the dunes. Richius sat back in his creaky chair, listening to them while he watched Shani sleep. Because it had been built so quickly, there were no windows in the room, but the distant noises seeped through the boarded walls. There was probably a moon outside, and stars. Richius thought about waking Shani to show them to her. The stars were very clear here. But she was so perfectly asleep he didn't want to disturb her. In the morning he would have to send her back to Dyana. Somehow, he would have to convince Prakna to spare a ship for her. Richius wasn't sure the fleet commander would do the favor for him, and hoped he wouldn't have to get Queen Jelena involved.

  And then there was the question of Simon.

  "What should I do?" Richius whispered. Simon had come a long way just to give Shani back to him. The Naren had even risked his life. Richius wanted to think that signaled some change in him, but Simon was a Roshann agent and that they were all master manipulators, not to be trusted. Like Biagio.

  Biagio. Richius remembered how he had told Dyana that Biagio would never forgive him or forsake his vengeance, and how Dyana and Lucyler had both thought him paranoid. But they were Triin. They didn't know the truth about Biagio, and couldn't possibly understand his insanity--not like Richius could. He had only met the count a few times, but he still remembered his blazing eyes and golden skin, all the foppish mannerisms belying the iron beneath. Biagio was frightful, both beautiful and terrible to behold, and a demon without peer. Of all the dead emperor's henchmen, Biagio was the worst.

  There was a knock at the door, startling Richius from his musings. He looked at Shani, still asleep, then got out of his chair.

  "I asked not to be disturbed," he said crossly as he pulled open the door. He didn't expect to see Simon staring back at him. Prakna was with him, holding him by the arm.

  "What is this?" asked Richius.

  "He wouldn't shut up until I brought him here, Jackal," said the Lissen. "He says he has important things to talk to you about."

  "And it couldn't wait 'til tomorrow?" "No, Richius, it couldn't," said Simon. He had lost his earlier deference and now was his old, arrogant self again. "It's important you listen to me. I told you once before, I won't be your prisoner."

  Richius scowled at Simon. "There's nowhere for you to go, Simon. I could let you loose right now and you'd die of exposure in a day. You are my prisoner, Roshann. Like it or not."

  "Don't be a stubborn fool, Richius," Simon advised. "I can help you. You know I can."

  "But I don't know that you will," Richius corrected. "You're a liar. You've already proven that."

  Simon's face hardened. "I'm not lying. You have my word on that."

  The claim made both Richius and Prakna laugh. Simon shook off the Lissen's grip and glared at Richius.

  "Don't send me away," he warned. "You'll be sorry if you do. I know what your mission is, remember? And I know Crote, better than any one of you. Right?"

  "Y
ou're a Naren pig," jeered Prakna.

  "Right, Richius?" pressed Simon.

  Richius wanted to close the door on him, but couldn't. They just looked at each other, Simon imperious, Richius trying to retain his hatred. But eventually his expression softened just a little. Simon seized on it.

  "I can help you," he said with earnest. "Please, for Eris."

  "I don't even know Eris."

  Simon smiled. "But you'd like her if you did."

  Richius shook his head in exasperation. "Prakna, do me a favor. Please leave us alone. I'll look after him for now."

  The fleet commander's eyes rolled in disgust. "Richius . . ."

  "No, it's fine. Really. I just want to listen to his offer. Please, Prakna. Trust me on this."

  "Whatever," the commander rumbled, then stalked off into the night, leaving Simon alone with Richius.

  An awkward silence engulfed them. Richius shut the door so as not to disturb his daughter. Simon stared down at his feet, embarrassed. Then he shrugged.

  "You broke my nose again," he said.