by John Marco
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 Cretan 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 Cretan 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."
"Of course you're right," said Simon.
"I have many enemies in Nar these days."
"And many friends, my lord."
Biagio chuckled. "That number is dwindling, dear Simon. Lokken's death proves that." The count's expression hardened. "And there will be Talistan to deal with, too. They will not accept me as emperor. Tassis Gayle is like Herrith. He thinks I am not 'man enough' to be emperor!"
"They are both fools, Master."
"Yes." Biagio kicked at the sand with his boot. "Duke Lokken was a good man. Loyal. He knew what the Black Renaissance was about, what Arkus was trying to achieve. He died a hero. I won't forget him."
"He'll be avenged, my lord."
"Oh, indeed," said Biagio. He turned to Simon and clasped his cold hands on his shoulders. "Look at me, Simon."
Simon looked. Biagio's eyes were impossibly bright. "Yes?"
"Whatever else you hear from the others, whatever you may think of my plan, I promise you it will work. I don't just intend to kill Herrith. I plan to destroy him--and all his sycophants. When we return to power, there will not be anyone else to contend with. Not Herrith and his sick church, not Vorto and his legions, not anyone. My grand design will take care of them all, Simon. All of our enemies."
"I believe you, my lord," said Simon. "I truly do."
"But you worry. You think I'm letting the Lissens attack Nar out of spite. It's not spite, Simon. It's part of my plan. Can you understand that?"
Simon smiled. "I don't have your gift for such things. But if you say it's so, then I believe it. Without question."
Biagio's expression melted. "Thank you, my friend."
Simon felt his courage cresting. His mouth dried up as he fought to form the words. Biagio started back off toward the villa.
Now, Simon screamed at himself. Do it now!
"My lord?" he said weakly.
"Uhmm?"
"May I ask a favor?"
"Of course."
Simon hurried to catch up. He stayed one pace behind the count as he framed the request. What he was asking bordered on impossible, but he and Biagio were friends. Almost.
"Simon," said Biagio. "Stop dallying and ask your question."
Simon wet his lips. "It's about Eris, my lord."
The count's pace slowed perceptibly. "Oh?"
"You see, I am very fond of her."
"Yes, I know," said Biagio. The old, familiar jealousy crept into his tone.
"My lord, what I want to ask is . . . difficult." Simon stopped walking and lowered his eyes. Biagio stopped, too. The count stared at his servant curiously.
"You started this," Biagio warned. "Finish it. Go on and ask your question."
Simon straightened and stared directly into Biagio's eyes. "I love Eris, my lord. I've loved her since you purchased her. I want to be with her. I want her for my wife."
Simon waited for the rage, but it never came. Biagio's expression was serene for a moment, and then a different emotion overcame him, one not of anger but of sadness. For a moment Simon thought his lord might weep. Biagio looked away.
"This seems sudden," said the Cretan. "I'm . . ." His voice trailed off with a shrug. "Surprised."
"I know it's asking a lot, my lord. It's not tradition, I know. But I do love her." Simon bowed his head, then fell to one knee in th
e sand. He took Biagio's cold hand and kissed it. "My lord, I beg this of you. Let me have Eris. I've served you loyally. I always will. You are my greatest passion."
Biagio scoffed. "Not as great as the dancer, though. Get up, Simon. You're embarrassing yourself."
Simon rose but kept his head bowed. Biagio turned his back to him. For a long moment the count stared off into the horizon, hardly breathing as the breeze stirred his golden hair. The ocean came and retreated, and Biagio just stood there like one of the statues in his mansion, cold and unapproachable.
"Simon, I will do this thing for you," said the count at last. "Because I care for you. Do you know that? Do you know how much I care for you?"
Simon knew. "I do, my lord."
"Eris is my prize, my property. There is no other dancer like her in the Empire. But I give her to you, Simon. I break with the traditions of the Roshann, for you."
"Thank you, my lord. You are truly great. . . ."
Biagio turned to face him. "But in return, you will do something for me."
"Anything," agreed Simon quickly. "Ask me anything, my lord. I will do it willingly."
"You will go back to Lucel-Lor. You will find Richius Vantran. And you will steal his daughter for me."
"What . . .?"
"That's it, Simon. That's my price for the woman. Bring me the Jackal's daughter."
"But my lord, Vantran is guarded. I could never get that close to him. There's no way--"
"You underestimate yourself, my friend," laughed Biagio. "You can do it. You're my best agent, the only one who can pull it off. Get into Vantran's confidence. Find out his plans. Make him trust you. Then, when his guard is down, take the child."
"But why?" sputtered Simon. "What do you want with the girl? She's just a baby. . . ."
"I want what I've always wanted," Biagio roared. "I want Vantran to suffer! He took Arkus from me. Now I will take what is precious to him. It is justice, Simon. Nothing more."
Simon fought to control himself. It was madness, not justice, but he couldn't say so. Not now. Eris was almost his. They could marry. Biagio had agreed.
"My lord, even if I could get into his confidence and steal the baby, how could I possibly get back here with her? We're a long way from Lucel-Lor."
