The Grand Design (37 page)

I’m strong
, the bishop told himself.
Strong enough, and getting stronger.

He would not lose Nar to Biagio. Not now, after all he had been through.

Slowly the drug dripped into the tube, making the long voyage to his bloodstream. Herrith opened his eyes to stare at the vial. It was almost empty. He shuddered, trying to control himself. Treatments like these
could be insufferable, and he had only just recently started them again. His cravings were gone now and his appetite had returned with a vengeance. He could clear a table like an athlete and have room left for dessert. In old Nar, he had been famous for his girth, but the withdrawal had slimmed him. He was older now and not pretty, not like Biagio, but it was strength he needed to conquer the Black Renaissance, not beauty. Strength was flowing into him. Wicked vitality, created in a bottle by Bovadin.

Outside his window the sun was rising. Soon his skin would turn to ice again and he would yearn for sunlight like a flower. Along with the changing of his eyes his flesh would freeze and no man or woman would be able to endure his touch. Not that it mattered. It was the one great sacrifice he had made for Heaven, never to lie with another person. He was a man of yearnings, yet he was a powerhouse at keeping them chained, and though the pretty painted ladies of Nar quickened his pulse, he had a gift for squashing his desires. He did the work of the Lord. He cared for children in his orphanage and spread the Word. He didn’t need the comfort of flesh, so weak and fleeting. In his youth, before he had heard the call of Heaven, he had prowled the city for women, sating his appetite with slave girls and whores, but God had rescued him from that. His body was clean now, undiseased. As was his mind.

Mostly.

He still thought of Goth, especially when the burn of the treatments was its deepest. And God still taunted him with half-answers. He thought of Kye, too, and the colonel’s enormous grief, crushing him like an anvil. God’s ways were meant to be a mystery. And the clues from Heaven had been so clear. Herrith knew with his heart that the work he did was necessary. But his conscience still screamed at him, so loudly
sometimes that even the embrace of the narcotic could not silence it.

Almost done
, he mused, watching the remains of the pale potion drain from the bottle. It would be another week or so before he needed another treatment. Bovadin had indeed mixed the drug strong. Herrith flexed his fingers. They seemed thicker than they had just days ago, more muscular.

A knock at the door startled Herrith out of his daydream. He held his breath, angered at the interruption. He was still in his bed clothes and always left strict orders not to be disturbed. If it was Vorto …

“What?” Herrith bellowed at the door. Very slowly the portal pushed open. Father Todos peeked his head into the bedchamber apologetically, trying to avert his eyes from the gruesome sight on the bed.

“Forgive me, Holiness,” he stammered. “But … there are visitors.”

“Visitors? So?”

“From Dragon’s Beak, Holiness. Duke Enli. He says he must speak to you at once. He insisted—”

“Look at me, you fool! I’m in no condition for this!”

Todos stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Herrith was astonished at his gall. The priest kept his head bowed as he explained himself.

“I’m sorry, Holiness, but Duke Enli is very insistent. He begs an audience with you immediately. There is war in his land.”

The word
war
made Herrith sit up. “What do you mean?” he asked. “What war?”

Todos shrugged. “Holiness, I don’t know. The duke says he will speak only to you. But it’s very urgent.”

Herrith sat back on his soft pillows, forcing himself to relax. War in Dragon’s Beak had been brewing for years. That it should erupt now, when the Empire was in chaos, was hardly a surprise. And Enli and his
brother had both been thorns in the emperor’s side. Herrith always knew something catastrophic would happen between them.

“Whatever it is can wait until I’m done,” he said. With his free hand he shooed Todos away. “Go and tell the duke I’m indisposed. I will see him as soon as I am able.”

The priest frowned nervously. “How soon might that be? So that I may tell the duke, I mean.”

“You are worse than a mother, Todos! Give me a few moments, please!”

“Yes, Holiness, forgive me. I will tell the duke to wait for you.”

“Get out!”

The priest scurried from the room, closing the door behind him. Herrith laid in his bed and cursed.

It took Herrith less than half an hour to finish his treatment and regain his strength. By the close of the hour, he was fully dressed and ready to greet the Duke of Dragon’s Beak. Father Todos met Herrith outside his chambers, telling the bishop that the duke was waiting for him down on the main floor of the cathedral, in one of the church’s many offices. Todos eyed Herrith bleakly as he spoke, plainly astonished at the change in him. Herrith smiled and apologized to his friend. He felt invigorated, strangely buoyant. The remarkable drug had once again worked its mysteries on him.

Todos accompanied the bishop down the spire to the office where the duke was waiting. It was an elaborate room, bigger than necessary, with a typically oversized window and tiny sculptures of holy things arranged on shelves and bookcases. There was a desk in the office that Herrith hardly used and an assortment of austere chairs. The treacly smell of leather wafted from the office as Todos opened the door. The duke was standing
anxiously in the center of the room, looking tired and haggard. He had no soldiers with him but he was not alone. Beside him, sitting with her legs dangling from the chair, was a bright-faced girl. Both of them turned their eyes on Herrith as he entered the office.

“Duke Enli,” said Father Todos. “Archbishop Herrith.”

Duke Enli went to his knees before the bishop, bowed his head deeply, then took Herrith’s hand and placed a reverent kiss on his ring.

“Your Grace,” he said softly. “Thank you for honoring me with your presence. I am your servant.”

Herrith heard the words as if from a distance. His eyes were on the exquisite girl in the chair. She smiled at him but did not move from her seat.

“Rise, Duke Enli,” said the bishop. “And sit. Please …” He gestured to one of the chairs near the desk. “You look exhausted.”

“I am, Holiness,” the duke admitted. He took a chair and seemed to fall into it. “Thank you.”

“Todos, have you offered our guests anything to eat or drink?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” said the priest.

“The Father has been very gracious, Holiness,” explained the duke. “But I’m afraid my mind isn’t on food. It’s very urgent that I speak with you.”

“And I am here, Duke,” said the bishop. He went to his own chair behind the ornate desk, a giant seat of red velvet that looked more like a throne. “Todos, please leave us. I think the duke might be more comfortable speaking in private.”

Ever compliant, Todos left. In his wake the duke took a deep breath and spread his hands out in surrender.

“Your Holiness, I beg your forgiveness for this intrusion. But I simply didn’t know where else to turn. We’ve travelled all the way from Dragon’s Beak to plead your help.”

“I am listening, dear friend,” said Herrith. “You
have always been a loyal lord. You may ask anything of me. But first …” Herrith turned his attention toward the girl. “Please tell me who this beautiful child is.”

“Her name is Lorla,” said Enli. “Lorla Lon. She’s from Dragon’s Beak, the south fork. Her parents were killed in the attack.”

“Attack?” asked Herrith.

“It’s why I’ve come, Holiness. Dragon’s Beak is at war with itself. My brother Eneas has attacked my southern fork. He flies the Black Flag.” The duke turned a sad smile on the girl. “Lorla was orphaned in the fighting. I brought her here to you because I hoped you would help her. I know how generous you are to orphans. I thought you might help me find a place for her.”

She was lovely, with platinum hair cut in bangs and bright eyes to rival Herrith’s own, and the bishop took pains to smile at her carefully, not too boldly, not too weakly.

“Hello, Lorla,” he said softly, as if speaking to a bird he didn’t want to frighten. She smiled back at him, wonderfully shy.

“Hello, Your Holiness,” she said, inclining her head.

“Are you well?” he asked. “You look tired.”

“I am tired,” said the girl. “Very.” A look of sadness crossed her face. “And afraid.”

“There’s nothing for you to be afraid of here, I promise. No one is going to hurt you. This is the house of God. All are safe here.”

“Don’t be afraid, Lorla,” echoed the duke. “His Holiness is a great and good man. He’ll help you.” Enli turned to the bishop. “Won’t you, Your Grace?”

“Of course I will,” beamed Herrith. “You’re very pretty, Lorla. You remind me of an angel. And your eyes. They’re almost as bright as my own!”

Lorla smiled demurely. “Thank you, Holiness.”

The bishop leaned forward in his chair. “How old are you, child? Do you know?”

“I am eight,” replied the girl. “Almost nine.”

“That’s a wonderful age,” said Herrith. “We have many children in the orphanage your age. You can meet some of them if you like, make some new friends. Would you like that?”

Lorla glanced at Enli for support. The duke gave her a comforting nod.

“You can talk to the bishop, Lorla,” said Enli. “I promise, he won’t hurt you.”

The girl considered the statement with care. She looked exhausted, confused. “I would like that, I suppose. I just want to have a place to stay.”

“There’s a place here for you, child, do not worry,” Herrith promised. “We can take care of you. Are you hungry? We have food.” He patted his burgeoning stomach merrily. “Plenty of it.”

“I would like that,” said Lorla. “If it’s all right with Duke Enli.” Again she looked at Enli. “Would that be all right, my lord? May I have something to eat?”

“Certainly,” said Enli. “Don’t wait for me. You go and eat.”

“You’ll find Father Todos out in the hall,” said Herrith. “Tell him that you’re hungry and want to rest. He’ll find a room for you.”

Lorla hopped out of the chair and went to the door. “I will,” she said happily. Herrith’s heart ached to see her, so starved and desperate-looking. War was most terrible on the children. The Black Renaissance had taught him that. The many wars of the Renaissance had orphaned thousands. It was why Herrith had started his orphanage. The bishop watched the child go, his eyes lingering on her as she closed the door.

“That’s a remarkable child,” he whispered, not really wanting Enli to hear him.

“Oh, yes,” said the duke. “She’s been through so
much, yet she didn’t complain the whole way here, not once. You do have a place for her, don’t you, Holiness? I don’t want to impose. I just thought—”

“Don’t fret over the girl,” said Herrith. “We’ll find a place for her. But now tell me, Duke Enli, what is this bad news? War with your brother?”

“Aye, bad news indeed,” said Enli. He put a hand to his forehead and rubbed, working the kinks out of his face. “It’s black, Holiness. Dragon’s Beak is divided, like I always feared. Eneas, my brother …”

“He attacked you?” coaxed the bishop.

Enli nodded. “He’s sided with Biagio. He flies the Black Flag now. My own men have seen it over his castle. We were attacked without warning.” The duke balled his hands into fists. “God curse me, I should have seen this coming. I knew when Arkus died Eneas would try something like this. Yet I did nothing!”

“Be easy,” crooned Herrith. “And tell me everything that happened. When did your brother attack?”

“Oh, it must be weeks now. I don’t even know what’s going on back home. When we left, the battle was at a stalemate. Eneas’ troops had gained some territory on the south fork, but my own men had kept them back. I don’t know how long they’ll last, though. The army of the air is voracious, Holiness. They keep us from fighting back.” The duke’s face grew earnest. “I’m afraid, Your Grace.”

Herrith rose from his chair and walked around the desk. Enli’s pain was like a magnet drawing him closer. He gazed down at the duke, trying to look resolute.

“Do not be frightened, my son. You fly the Light of God in Dragon’s Beak, yes?”

“Yes, Holiness. Of course.”

“Then God will protect you. Have faith.”

“Holiness, I need more than faith. I need your help.”

Enli started to rise, but Herrith held up a hand,
stopping him. “Sit, Duke Enli. You need rest. Tell me what you want of me.”

“We need troops in Dragon’s Beak, Holiness. To fight back my brother. We need the legions to come and help us. Like in Goth.”

Herrith froze. “Goth? What do you know of Goth?”

“I know that you crushed the Black Renaissance there,” said Enli, blanching. “I’m sorry, Holiness. I thought it was common knowledge. I meant no disrespect.…”

“There is none taken, my son,” said Herrith. He hadn’t expected news of Goth to have travelled so quickly. “It’s true. We did subdue the Renaissance in Goth. A horrible price, but necessary.”

“Yes,” said Enli. “And you can help me do the same. Please, I beg you. Send General Vorto and his men back to Dragon’s Beak with me. If Eneas sees them he might even surrender. But it must be done quickly, before we lose the southern fork.”

Herrith leaned back against his desk, thinking on what Enli had said. It was a bold request. Dragon’s Beak was very far, and not particularly important. It would take weeks for Vorto to march a legion there. Worse, winter was coming—not the best time of year to fight a war. The bishop mulled the request over. Enli watched him. He was a good man, this duke. Despite his reputation as an independent thinker, he had been loyal to Arkus and the old Empire, and when the old man had died he had refused to side with Biagio, choosing the Light of God instead. A man of high ideals. Very rare these days.

“What you ask is difficult,” said Herrith. “If Vorto gets to Dragon’s Beak and finds that Eneas has already taken over, it could be another massacre. I don’t mind telling you that I don’t crave another one of those on my conscience.”

“But we on the south fork are loyal,” the duke implored. “We’re faithful to you and the new order. Holiness, you can’t let Dragon’s Beak fall to the Black Renaissance. I don’t ask this for myself, but for Nar. Dragon’s Beak is only the beginning. Where will it end?”