The Grand Design (Tyrants & Kings 2)

by John Marco

  Tonight, like every night, Simon sat in his chamber, preparing a bowl of food for Shani. The single porthole in his chamber let in a ribbon of light, faltering as the sun dipped beneath the waves. It was dark and cramped, with only a little candle burning in a dish for illumination. Shani sat on the floor, banging away with a toy he had given her – a curious-looking ship’s ornament he had snapped off the deck when no one was looking. This one was the carved figure of a mermaid. Once the wooden toy had embellished the forecastle, but not anymore. Now it helped to preoccupy the little girl, who chewed on the mermaid’s finned tail and rolled it across the floor in an effort to ease her boredom. Simon watched Shani bang the toy against the floor as he mixed her a porridge of bread and raisins, sweetened with a little sugar. Sugar was the only thing he could get her to eat, but they were nearing the end of their voyage and were running low on everything, so this time he sprinkled only a pinch into the mush and hoped she wouldn’t notice. He stuck his finger into the bowl to test the porridge, wincing at its awfulness. If Shani were only a little older, he would have tried more solid food on her. But she still had a one-year-old’s teeth, so the ship’s dried meats and bread were out of the question. Everything she ate needed to be soaked in fresh water, all but the milk, and even that made her turn her nose up.

  ‘You’re a spoiled little brat,’ he said to her with a smile. She looked up at him and scowled. ‘Yes,’ he laughed. ‘You know you are, don’t you?’

  She had a beautiful face, like her mother, and fine, fawn hair that fell loosely over her eyes. A brilliant smile that rarely appeared made her look like an angel. No wonder she had been the light of her parents’ life. Simon looked back into the bowl of porridge, stirring it absently. With luck, she would eat some of it and let him get some rest tonight. He himself would skip dinner. It hardly mattered, since everything he ate eventually came sluicing back out. He had lost weight again, dropping all the pounds he had gained in Falindar. He missed the good cooking of the Triin and the citadel’s abundance. He missed fresh fruit and spring water and having a room that didn’t sway.

  ‘Tell you what, Shani,’ Simon said as he worked. ‘You don’t keep me up all night crying, and I’ll see what I can do about getting you another toy. I think N’Dek has another mermaid somewhere on this ship. What do you say?’

  Shani gave him a blank expression.

  ‘Mmm, looks good, huh?’ he asked. He lifted the spoon and let a ribbon of mush dribble back into the bowl. ‘Simon loves this. Good stuff.’

  More awkward silence from the child. Simon brought her food over to her, sitting down with her on the cold floor. He pretended to taste the bread porridge.

  ‘Oh, that’s good,’ he said brightly. ‘You want some?’

  As usual, Shani took a sniff at the spoon and made a disgusted face. Her hand came up and pushed the spoon away, spilling some of the mush onto Simon’s lap. Simon grimaced, shaking his head. The little girl was exasperating. How the hell did Dyana deal with her?

  ‘It’s all we’ve got, girl,’ he told her. ‘If you don’t eat you’ll just go hungry.’

  Shani looked at him blankly.

  ‘You don’t care? All right, but don’t come crying to me when you’re stomach is empty. It’s still a good distance to Crote, and days before either of us gets anything decent to eat.’

  The statement only depressed Simon more. Days from solid land and edible food. N’Dek and his crew were bottomless pits, able to scoff down any scraps they could get their hands on, but Simon had lived too long in Crote. He was used to Biagio’s kitchens and abundant pantries. Surrendering, he dropped the spoon into the bowl and shoved the porridge aside, staring at Shani. Already she had returned her attention to her mermaid, oblivious to him. At first she had clung to him for protection, but she had quickly learned that no one else on board would hurt her, and so she risked alienating her only friend.

  ‘I’m not happy about this, you know,’ he whispered. ‘I wouldn’t be doing this if I had a choice.’

  She wasn’t listening. Suddenly angry, Simon snatched her toy away. The action brought a chorus of cries from the girl, who grasped awkwardly for the mermaid while Simon held it just out of reach.

  ‘No, listen to me,’ he scolded. ‘Listen or I won’t give it back. I’m trying to tell you something, damn it.’

  More insistent cries. Simon shook his head, taunting her, dangling her toy in front of her.

  ‘Be good, or I won’t let you have it.’

  Shani stopped grabbing for it, frowned at Simon, then turned her back on him. Simon laughed in spite of himself.

  ‘All right,’ he chuckled. ‘Here, I give up.’ He slid the wooden mermaid across the floor to her. Greedily she snatched it up, and in return for his gesture gave him her attention.

  ‘Oh, so you’ll listen to me now, huh? That’s fine. Thanks so much.’

  He clasped his hands onto his lap and leaned back, trying to get comfortable. Shani watched him curiously, as if waiting for a bedtime story.

  ‘Look, girl, I just want you to believe me. I’m a bad man, I admit that. But I wouldn’t be doing this if I thought I had a choice. I don’t. If I don’t bring you to Biagio, he’ll kill my woman, and I can’t allow that. Can you understand what I’m saying? It’s just the way life is. I don’t know or care about you, but I care about Eris, so you lose. Right?’

  Shani stared at him.

  ‘Your father made a tough choice too, you know. Just like me. He could have stayed with you and your mother, but there was something eating him alive, something he couldn’t ignore. It’s like that for me, too. I love Eris. And if anything happened to her, I’d . . .’

  Simon stopped himself. He was thinking of Dyana, and the loss he had inflicted on her.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter,’ he said softly. He reached out for Shani’s soft hair, loving the feel of it between his fingers. As occasionally happened, Shani leaned into him, wanting more. Simon smiled sadly at her.

  ‘What a bastard I am,’ he whispered.

  He was no better than Biagio now. Or Bovadin. Even the Mind Bender with his knives and filthy mind was his twin. What were they but evil, demanding men? What was he but their shadows? In Crote, in his early days, he had been a man of high ideals. He had been very young, and he had thought the world a place he could bend to his will. But it wasn’t.

  ‘I hope you get through this,’ Simon said. ‘If you survive it, and I don’t think you will, I hope you go back to your parents and have a long, safe life in Lucel-Lor. Stay away from Nar, girl. It will only devour you.’

  The little wooden mermaid dropped out of Shani’s hand as she crawled over to him. The cabin was frightfully cold, too cold for a child, so Simon wrapped his arms around her and held her close, cooing in her ear. She put her head against him, resting in his warmth, breathing slowly.

  ‘Remember my promise?’ he asked her. ‘If I can help you, I will. I’ll do whatever I can for you.’

  It wouldn’t be enough, though. Simon closed his eyes, hating himself. His promise was a lie. He had ruined Shani’s chances the moment he’d stolen her. Once they got to Crote, there would be no escape.

  Simon leaned back with the child in his arms, feeling the pinch of his belted dagger against his ribs. He always wore the dagger, and the minor pain made him think of it now. It might be better for them both if he simply slit their throats. Outside, the sun had vanished. The dark light through the porthole bathed the little chamber in shadows. Reaching into his belt, he pulled out his shiny dagger, careful not to let the girl see it. The sight of the blade made him thoughtful. Committing suicide was for idealistic men. It required a certain self-honesty.

  Simon just wasn’t the type.

  Captain N’Dek sat across the table from Simon, staring at the cards with unnecessary scrutiny. He wore a grave and easily readable expression, the one he always used when he tried to cover up a winning hand. Simon looked away, feigning indifference. N’Dek was a very bad card player who thought he
was good. Simon wasn’t very good either, but his talent for reading body language gave him a distinct advantage over the pompous captain, and he had let N’Dek win a few hands, just to put the man at ease. The light of the single candle lit their faces over the cards, giving them both a ghostly pall. Little Shani slept in Simon’s bunk, oblivious to the gaming being quietly conducted just feet away.

  As predicted, Captain N’Dek had jumped at the chance to play cards with Simon. It was, Simon recalled, one of N’Dek’s favorite pastimes, and because he was a captain of the Black Fleet he never fraternized with his crew, giving him little chance to exercise his passion for the game. Simon reached for his mug of flat ale. He took a gingerly sip, not wanting to upset his stomach, and stared at N’Dek over the rim. After three mugs, N’Dek was slowing down. His eyelids drooped and the ubiquitous tightness around his jaw had slackened some. Simon took another measured sip.

  ‘The little brat’s sleeping sound enough,’ N’Dek observed, not taking his eyes from his cards. ‘You complain too much, Darquis. She’s no trouble at all’

  ‘Except at mealtimes and my bedtime,’ countered Simon. Both men kept their voices low, not wanting to disturb the sleeping child. Simon stole a glance at Shani, amazed that she slept. Perhaps she had read his mind again. ‘Thank God we’ll be in Crote soon,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear another week with this whelp.’

  ‘You’ll have to,’ said N’Dek. ‘We’re at least a week away, and seas are rough. They’re cutting down our speed.’

  ‘As long as you get me home in one piece, N’Dek.’

  ‘I’d better. And your little darling there, or Biagio will slit me open like a roast pig.’ The captain pulled one of his cards from his hand and discarded it, trading it for another. His face brightened almost imperceptibly, a signal he quickly buried in a scowl. ‘We’re low on everything now. Hopefully we’ll make Crote before we run out of fresh water.’

  ‘If you hadn’t been so afraid of the Lissens, we’d have been there by now,’ goaded Simon.

  The insult was enough to make N’Dek look up from his cards. ‘For a smart fellow you’re remarkably stupid, Darquis. I had to maneuver around Liss. If I hadn’t, we’d be served up as the main course in a Lissen feeding frenzy. That’s what they do to prisoners, you know. Feed them to sharks.’

  ‘That’s nonsense,’ scoffed Simon. ‘I never heard that.’

  ‘You’re not in the navy. I know these things because I fought against those devils. They’re demons, the whole damn bunch of them. But someday I’m going back there. Nicabar, too. We’ve talked about it.’

  ‘Oh?’ asked Simon half-heartedly. He was studying his own cards, realizing what a poor hand he’d dealt himself. ‘What do you intend to do? Talk them to death?’

  ‘I intend to finish what we started,’ replied N’Dek. ‘Those Lissen bastards, thinking they can attack Nar. They think the Black Fleet is finished? God damn them, we’ll show them who’s finished!’

  ‘Shhh!’ scolded Simon. ‘Keep your voice down. You’ll wake her.’

  N’Dek shrank back a bit. ‘All right. All I’m saying is that we’re not done with Liss, that’s all. When Biagio takes control of Nar, he’ll have to reward the men that helped him. And I already know what Nicabar will ask for.’

  ‘Really? What?’

  ‘Liss, you idiot. Haven’t you been listening? That’s why Nicabar is helping your master. He wants a chance at Liss again, and that bastard Prakna.’ N’Dek lowered his cards. ‘Ten bloody years he went after that devil. And all for nothing. They never even battled each other, not once. Can you believe it? Ah, but that’s all going to change. And I’m going to be there for it.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Simon dryly. ‘A man should have dreams.’

  ‘It’s not just my dream, Darquis. It’s Nicabar’s and everyone else’s in the fleet. It should be your dream, too.’

  ‘Mine?’ Simon laughed. ‘What do I care if Liss stands or falls? It’s not my problem, N’Dek.’

  ‘See? That’s what’s wrong with you, Roshann. Nothing is your problem. You’re a man without a conscience. You don’t care about anything but yourself. If you did, you’d see the glory of going back to Liss.’

  Simon looked at N’Dek over his cards, barely smiling. ‘Another card?’

  ‘One more,’ said N’Dek. This time he didn’t discard any of his hand, but slipped the card Simon dealt him into the pack. Simon took a card also. His own hand was very bad, and the card he drew did nothing to improve it. N’Dek would certainly win this round.

  ‘I don’t bother getting involved in things that don’t concern me, N’Dek,’ said Simon. ‘If you want to go and fight in Liss, that’s your business. I won’t stop you. But why should I care? Forgive me, great Captain, but I don’t see the glory in it.’

  ‘What about the Renaissance? Don’t you see the glory in that?’

  Simon had to think hard about that one. There once was a time when he’d shared Biagio’s vision of the future, but that was gone, too. ‘I think the Black Renaissance is unstoppable, because it has Biagio behind it. That’s all that matters. What I think of it personally makes no difference. It’s coming back to Nar. Herrith can’t stop it, and neither can his God.’

  ‘Damn right,’ rumbled N’Dek. There was a bright glint in his eyes that told Simon he knew he’d won. The captain leaned back in his chair. ‘Last card,’ he said. ‘Time to see what you’ve got, spy.’

  ‘You know, you’re right,’ Simon remarked. ‘I don’t really care about much, N’Dek. It’s a shame. Maybe someday I can be more like you.’

  ‘I doubt it. Come on, show me your cards.’

  Simon always held his cards in one hand, fanning them in his fingers. His other hand had spent the evening at his side, occasionally lifting the mug to his mouth, but almost always out of sight. Now it very slowly drifted to his belt and pulled out his silver dagger.

  ‘You know, I don’t think it really matters what a man does for his whole life. But in the end, when it’s all over, he has to have done the right thing. I mean, if I spend the rest of my life killing and murdering, I think I can get away with it all, just as long as I do something good at the end. Just once, you know?’

  N’Dek found the notion deliciously funny. ‘Oh, yes,’ he laughed. ‘If you’re wrong about God you’ll recant on your deathbed?’

  ‘Something like that,’ said Simon. He watched N’Dek carefully, the fingers of his right hand closing around the dagger as his left fanned the cards out on the table. ‘Here’s what I’ve got,’ he said. ‘How did I do?’

  The captain’s smile broadened when he saw Simon’s cards. ‘You’re the loser, Darquis,’ he said gleefully. ‘Again.’

  N’Dek moved to put his cards on the table. Time slowed down as Simon’s hand shot out to seize N’Dek’s, holding it firmly on the table. Simon’s right hand flashed and brought the dagger up and down, slamming it through N’Dek’s palm and pinning it to the tabletop. The captain screamed, jumping from his chair. Simon held the dagger fast and firm. Blood spurted from N’Dek’s hand. Immobilized, he stared at Simon in horror. With his free hand Simon reached across the table and grabbed hold of the seaman’s lapel.

  ‘Quiet!’ he growled. ‘Shut up or I’ll cut your bloody throat!’

  N’Dek was bawling like a baby, shrieking in pain as he tried to pull his hand free. But the dagger kept him fastened to the table. Quickly the cards soaked with blood. Shani jolted up in her bunk, awakened by the captain’s screams. Simon put his hand over N’Dek’s mouth.

  ‘I’m not kidding, N’Dek,’ he hissed. ‘Shut your big mouth or I’ll slit you open from ear to ear. Do you understand me?’

  N’Dek could hardly respond. He closed his eyes against the pain and nodded vigorously.

  ‘Good boy,’ crooned Simon. ‘We’re all friends here. And you know what you’re going to do for me, friend? You’re going to turn this tub around. We’re heading back to Liss.’

  A muffled protest burst from N
’Dek’s covered mouth. He pulled away from Simon and spat at him.

  ‘Liss! Why?’

  Simon ground the dagger deeper to make the man obey. N’Dek howled in pain, begging Simon to stop. He was near tears, crying for mercy.

  ‘Are you going to listen to me, you ugly squid?’ Simon asked.

  ‘Why Liss?’ N’Dek stammered. With his good hand over his punctured one, he tried to stop the sluicing blood. ‘What for?’

  Thinking fast, Simon said the only thing that came to him. ‘Because that’s what Biagio wants,’ he lied. ‘I’m taking the girl there.’

  ‘What the hell for?’

  Another jerk of the dagger made N’Dek scream. ‘No questions!’ Simon commanded. ‘I am Roshann. And you will obey me, N’Dek. You and all your crew. Or so help me God, when we get back to Crote, Biagio will indeed cut you open.’

  ‘Darquis, I can’t take the ship to Liss! Biagio must be mad. I—’

  Simon’s hand shot out again and covered the captain’s mouth. ‘I’m only going to tell you this once more, N’Dek. This ship is now under the command of the Roshann, by my authority. You will do exactly as I say. Because if you don’t, this tub of yours is going to take you back to Crote for your execution. Now, I’ll need you to give the order. We’re going to turn the ship around. We’re heading back to Liss. Tonight!’

  Too frightened and in too much pain to argue, N’Dek nodded. ‘All right,’ he groaned. ‘All right, you crazy bastard. I’ll do it.’

  Simon smiled. ‘That would be best, friend. For all your sakes. And I’m afraid I can’t let you leave this cabin, either.’

  In another lightning move, Simon pulled the dagger from the table and put it to N’Dek’s throat. The table crashed aside as Simon grabbed hold of N’Dek’s hair, dragging him to the ground. With N’Dek on his stomach, the blade to his neck, Simon shoved his knee forcefully into the captain’s spine. N’Dek wailed in agony.