The Grand Design (12 page)

The others had actually given up very little. Herrith knew how close they were to Biagio, and would never have let them live. Even Nicabar, Naren hero though he was, had stood beside the Count of Crote far too long to be safe from the bishop’s assassins. And Simon knew how he and Vorto hated each other. It was that old rivalry, the legions against the navy, and neither would surrender or bow to the other. When Arkus died and Herrith stole the throne, Nicabar had simply ordered his Black Fleet out of Naren waters. It had left the Empire easy prey to the marauding Lissens. Part of
Biagio’s “grand design,” Simon supposed. There were still some nations loyal to Biagio, but they were few and probably dwindling. Since returning from Lucel-Lor, Biagio had only dropped tantalizing hints of their situation. Tonight, Simon hoped, they would all have some answers.

Biagio raised up his crystal goblet. “My friends, let me speak,” he said. He shot a glare at Savros to silence the torturer. “I want to say thank you. I want you to know again how much I appreciate your patience and loyalty.”

They all raised their glasses. Even Bovadin, who snickered slightly, agreed to the toast. But when the drinking was done, the midget was the first to open his mouth.

“What news from Nar, Admiral?” he asked pointedly. “Renato says you’ve learned things.”

Nicabar started to speak but Biagio raised a quieting hand. “I’ll tell you all the news from Nar myself,” he said. “Danar has brought news, it’s true, but I want you all to understand me first. I know you’re growing impatient. I know you all want to return home to Nar. But there are things in the works, things I can’t tell you about.”

“Hopefully things that will get us home,” said Bovadin sourly. “I’ve built the device for you, Renato. I’ve kept making the drug. I want to know everything that’s going on. I insist.”

“The
device
,” said Biagio calmly, “is not a subject I care to talk about tonight.”

Device.
Simon tucked the word in the back of his brain. He had known Bovadin was working on something, but had yet to learn what. The count continued.

“I called us together because of some news Danar’s heard from Dragon’s Beak, and because I want to assure you all that I’m in control. Things are going according to my plans. I want you to believe that.” Biagio
looked troubled suddenly. “Still, what Danar’s heard may make you doubt that.”

“The Lissens?” asked Savros.

Danar Nicabar shook his head. “No, not just the Lissens.”

“Herrith,” Bovadin guessed.

Biagio took a contemplative pull from his glass, then leaned back in his chair. “Yes, Herrith. I’m afraid the news from Nar isn’t good these days. Herrith has been making … trouble.”

“Trouble?” said Bovadin. “What does that mean? Renato, stop fooling. What’s going on?”

“Genocide,” said Biagio. There was no more humor in his expression. “What does your mighty brain tell you about that, Bovadin?”

Bovadin laughed. “He’s wiping out the loyalists. We all knew that would happen. That’s why we came here.”

Biagio sighed. “Does the term Formula B mean anything to you?”

Bovadin stopped laughing. His insectoid face went ashen. Biagio leaned forward and hissed, “Yes, your experiment seems to work, my friend. Too bloody well.”

“It was used?” demanded Bovadin.

“Two weeks ago,” answered Nicabar. “In Goth. Vorto had Lokken’s forces surrounded. They surrendered, because they had no choice. Vorto went in, killed Lokken, then gassed the city.” Nicabar looked down into his glass. “Only a few survivors. All blind.”

Bovadin was dumbfounded. “I can’t believe it,” he said. “They got it to work. It’s incredible.”

“Incredible?” spat Biagio. “Is that your word for it, Bovadin? You left a lot behind for them to build on, didn’t you? You promised me they would never get Formula B stable.”

“I … I don’t know what happened,” sputtered the
scientist. “There aren’t many people in the war labs with the knowledge to continue the work. I thought for sure it would be too dangerous for them to go on without me.”

“Herrith must have changed their minds,” said Savros. The Mind Bender’s brow furrowed. “I wonder how.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Nicabar. “He’s got the formula. First Goth. Then what? Vosk? Or Dragon’s Beak?”

Biagio drummed his thin fingers on the table. “Apparently Herrith takes his mandate from Heaven seriously. My people in Nar City say he’s determined to wipe out the Renaissance. Completely. He won’t rest until there’s nothing left of it. Or us.”

“Then we have to move quickly,” said Bovadin. “Now.”

“We are moving,” said Biagio. “Don’t doubt that. As I’ve said, there are plans in the works to stop this madness. But it’s going to take time. You all have to be patient.”

“We have been patient,” flared Bovadin. “Renato, in a few months there may be nothing for us to go back to. We have to act. We have the navy, and the device is almost ready. I say we strike back.”

“Is that the best you can think of, Bovadin? How can we strike back? True, we have the navy. And yes, some of the nations are still on our side. But Vorto controls the land, not us. His legions are loyal to him, and to Herrith. We can’t win with force. Not that way.” Biagio tapped his skull with a finger. “We have to use our brains. Thankfully, I have been.”

Challenged, the tiny genius got out of his chair. To Simon he seemed no taller. “Really?” said Bovadin. “And what have you come up with? I for one am tired of your riddles, Renato. I followed you because you said you would win this struggle. But I don’t see you winning. I see you hiding.”

Biagio’s smile was terrible. “You followed me because if you didn’t, you’d be dead now. Sit down, my friend. You’re making a spectacle of yourself.”

There was just enough steel in the voice to make Bovadin obey. He returned to his chair, brooding.

“We won’t get anywhere by arguing,” Biagio went on. “And after all, there’s no need for it. My plan is simple. I have agents poised to help us, and allies sympathetic to our cause. Duke Enli of Dragon’s Beak has given us the fuel we needed for your device, yes, Bovadin? He is still on our side. And there are others.”

“What others?” asked Savros. The Mind Bender had been studying the argument with detached fascination while he ate, his tongue scooping oysters from their shells.

“Others who I’m sure will come through for us,” Biagio replied evasively. “Others whom I trust.”

“The girl?” asked Bovadin.

“Yes,” said Biagio.

“What girl?” pressed Savros.

“Oh, my dear Mind Bender, you would have loved this one.” Biagio chuckled and brought a dainty hand to his mouth. “A truly beautiful thing. Too young for you, I think, but smashing.”

“Renato?” said Danar. “What girl?”

“A very special girl, my friend. Someone Herrith won’t be able to resist. He has a fondness for children, you remember. I think this one will steal his heart.”

Baffled, Admiral Nicabar lowered his drink. “Explain yourself. Who is this child?”

Count Biagio steepled his hands. Everyone hung on his words, even Simon. Bovadin, however, seemed less interested, as if he already knew the story.

“A long while ago,” Biagio began, “when Arkus was still alive, Bovadin and I set up an experiment of sorts. An experiment regarding the drug. An experiment with children.”

Bovadin began to squirm.

“It was a secret project of the war labs,” the count continued. “We wanted to know if the drug could stop the aging process entirely. Bovadin thought the drug might work better on children.”

“Their metabolisms are different,” Bovadin jumped in. “I found that the way they process the drugs isn’t the same as adults, probably because their bodies are still developing.”

“We were able to arrest body development,” said Biagio. “Rather successfully, with one child in particular.”

Nicabar was plainly shocked. “My God. How many of these freaks are there?”

“Just one, now,” replied the count. “We had to abandon the experiment when we fled Nar. But we saved one. A very special girl. One that I knew I could use against Herrith when the time came.”

“Abandon?” asked Savros. “I don’t understand. What happened to the other children?”

Bovadin looked away. The truth was sickeningly obvious.

“There was no choice,” said Biagio. “We couldn’t risk being discovered, especially by Herrith. Only the girl was spared.” The Crotan looked around the table warily. “And don’t accuse us of crimes, my friends. The experiment had a noble purpose. We were trying to save Arkus, and perhaps save ourselves. We’re all still getting older, no matter how slowly. And if not for this girl, we wouldn’t have a weapon against Herrith.”

“Where’s the child now?” asked Nicabar.

“Duke Enli is taking care of her. And that’s all I will tell you.”

“Enli mentioned none of this to me,” said the admiral. “God, you keep such secrets, my friend. Don’t you trust anyone?”

Biagio looked hurt. “Dear Danar, I trust you all. In fact, I have something very special to entrust to you. Another mission. To Nar City, this time.”

“Nar City?” laughed Nicabar. “A love note for Herrith?”

“Not a love note, no. But it is for Herrith.”

The admiral frowned. “Renato …?”

“I want you to take the
Fearless
and some of your dreadnoughts to the Black City. I have a message for the bishop I want you to deliver personally.”

“What message?”

“A letter, asking Herrith to sit down and talk peace with me.”

Now they were all astonished. Even Simon’s jaw slackened. Biagio looked about the room, grinning like a madman.

“This isn’t a joke, my friends. You should say something.”

“I don’t know what to say,” sputtered Nicabar.

“Is this your plan?” asked Bovadin incredulously. “To surrender?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Biagio. He beckoned a servant over to refill his glass, then rolled the goblet between his palms. “It’s just part of my grand design, you see. Herrith will never accept. He will eventually, but not right away. Gradually we will pressure him to come here. But first he’ll think we’re weakening. And that’s all I want for now. The girl and the Lissens will do the rest for me.”

“But why me?” asked Nicabar. “Why can’t one of your agents deliver this message?”

“Because they can’t sail the flagship,” said Biagio. “And it’s two messages, really. One is for Herrith. The other is for the Lissens. I want them to see the
Fearless.
I want them to think it’s out of Crotan waters.”

Exasperated, Nicabar shook his head. “Renato, you’re not making sense. Why would you want the Lissens to think Crote’s unguarded? The Black Fleet is probably the only thing keeping them away from here. Besides, I thought you wanted them to attack the Empire.”

“I do,” said Biagio. “Trust me, Danar. The Lissens have been attacking Nar, and I say let them continue. But let them also think we here are unprotected. Let them think we’ve come to the aid of the Empire. It’s all part of the plan.”

“Oh, yes,” muttered Bovadin. “The ‘grand design.’ Sounds like nonsense to me. What are you trying to do, get us all killed? If the Black Fleet leaves, the Lissens will swarm over Crote. You know that, Renato. They blame you as much as anyone for the war.”

Biagio put up his hands. “Enough. Danar, you will do this thing for me. You will leave in a few days. But you are not to engage the Lissens or sink their ships. Do you understand that?”

Confused, Nicabar nodded glumly.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

Biagio smiled. “Good. Now …” He picked up a fork and plunged it into an oyster. “Let’s eat.”

Evenings on Crote were always warm. Winter was coming, but not to this island. The trade winds off the ocean drew in the southerly air, keeping away the frost and making the flowers bloom throughout the year. In the damp of spring, lovers walking through the ancient avenues could hear the calls of night birds and the exotic music of insects. But it was cooler now, slightly, and the creatures of the island slumbered. Along the beach meandering past Biagio’s villa, Simon heard only the tranquil rhythm of the ocean. His master Biagio walked a few paces in front of him, the gentle surf lapping at his boots. They were both full of oysters and stuffed duck, and the heaviness in their guts had made them quiet. It was very late now. Even the moon had started to dip. A train of clouds crossed its path, turning the ocean black. Simon felt his eyelids drooping. He had hoped to go to Eris tonight, but the
dinner had taken longer than he’d hoped, and Biagio had wanted his company.

For over an hour they had walked along the beach, barely speaking a word to each other. The Master seemed troubled. Occasionally he dipped his jeweled hand into the sand, retrieving a shell or stone, then pitching it into the water, but mostly he just walked, slowly, aimlessly, making Simon wonder what plots he was hatching in his mind.

“Simon?” the count called over his shoulder.

“Yes, my lord?”

“I’m getting tired, but I don’t want to go back yet. You know what that’s like?”

Simon shrugged. He had no idea what Biagio meant. “Yes, I think so.”

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?”

More nonsense. “Yes, very nice.”

“Come closer,” bade Biagio. “Walk with me.”

Simon did as requested. Together they strode along the beach and let the water soak their boots, while Biagio kept his eyes on the horizon. The silhouettes of Nicabar’s Black Fleet bobbed in the blackness. To the east where the land hooked around, Simon could see the lights of Galamier, the town where he’d grown up and where he’d first learned to pick pockets. Galamier was very dim tonight and glowed a hazy orange. Simon’s eyes lingered there, and Biagio’s melancholy was suddenly contagious.

“I think they doubt me,” said Biagio.

Simon grimaced. “It’s a lot to ask of them. They don’t know you as I do.”

“Yes,” Biagio agreed. “But I have plans, you see. Great plans for Herrith and that dog, Vorto. I can’t just kill them as Bovadin suggests; that would solve nothing. Herrith would be dead and we would still be stuck on Crote. One of our enemies would rise to the throne. We must destroy them all.”