"Tyrants And Kings - 02 - The Grand Design" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marco John)

And it was true. Even as Simon doubted his fealty, there were others in Biagio's secret society scattered throughout the fractured Empire. Biagio had formed them from the dust of Crete's farms, used them to overthrow his father and later to serve the emperor. No matter what became of Biagio or his designs on the throne, the Roshann would always be his. He was their founder, their god, and their guiding light. Biagio was the Roshann, and his agents adored him.
"It does no good to dwell on Arkus' death, Master," consoled Simon. "Think on other things. We need you. Nar needs you. Only you can make the Empire whole again."
Biagio gave a chuckle. "No one can fill the Iron Throne like Arkus did. But I will try if I can."
"Soon?" probed Simon.
"Time is a luxury we have that our enemies do not, my friend. We have Nicabar's fleet to protect us, and all the wealth of this island. Herrith and his cronies cannot touch us here. And we have the drug." Biagio's face became sardonic. "I wonder how Herrith is feeling these days. By now his withdrawal should be quite unbearable. Bovadin thinks it might ultimately kill him."
"Fine," said Simon, wiping the sweat from his brow. "That would make a quick end to our exile."
"But not as sweet as the end I have planned for him," countered Biagio. "Trust me, my friend. The usurpers have some surprises coming to them. Let them suffer without the drug and wonder what we've cooked up for them. Herrith always said suffering is good for the soul."
They both laughed, imagining the portly bishof starving for the life-sustaining potion. Since Biagio anc his loyalists had fled to Crote, there had been no one left in Nar who could synthesize the drug. Herritt might have the throne, but Biagio had Bovadin, and the little scientist had always been tight-lipped aboul the formula. More importantly, the count had Admira Nicabar. The commander of the Black Fleet had madf their exile possible. His dreadnoughts had abandoned Nar and Archbishop Herrith, and even now the admiral's floating war machines could be seen bobbin] darkly on the horizon, patrolling the waters arouni Biagio's island. Crote had become their adopted homi and the count had been more than gracious. They a lived like kings here, sharing Biagio's wines and fin foods and being attended to by his servants. In theii homesickness they had even dubbed the tiny islam "Little Nar."
"I have been away a long time, Master," said Simon] "What other news from the Black City? Does HerritI sit on the throne now?"
"Not alone. It is as I suspected. He has co-opt Vorto to act in his stead. The general pretends to be er peror now, though he doesn't dare call himself thus."
Simon raised a worried eyebrow. "Then there is chance of the army joining us?"
"There was never that chance. Vorto is too amt tious to let the throne go. And we never cared for ead other, even when Arkus was alive. He knows the onl| way to seize power is to side with Herrith." Biag sneered. "Our bloody bishop is a clever man. It is lat versus sea now."
"Then we must be sure of Nicabar's loyalty, Mas If we lose his navy, we are doomed."
Biagio seemed shocked. "Simon, you surprise Danar is canny, but he has never been traitorous. Hei my friend, as you are. I won't have you speal against him."
'It's my duty to look out for you, Master," explained Simon. "I will watch him, not because I doubt you, but because I care for you. We'll need his navy if we're to have any chance at all against Vorto's legions."
"Oh, Simon," laughed the count. "You are my mother hen. Do you think I've not been busy while you were gone? There are wheels in motion." He made a circular gesture with his finger. "Vantran is not the only one I have designs for. Herrith and Vorto will soon see what it means to trifle with Count Biagio."
A grin split Biagio's face, and Simon felt suddenly foolish. Of course his master had been hard at work. How could he have doubted it? It was a cerebral work, and difficult to penetrate, but it was clever and cruel. It was why men pledged themselves to him, why Simon had become a Roshann agent himself. Biagio was brilliant. Not like the scientist Bovadin or the demented Savros. Biagio had been born with a genius for secrets. Arkus himself had seen it, and had made the count his closest counselor. In the days of the old Empire, Biagio's Roshann, his "Order," were more feared even than Vorto's military. His was an invisible army, a legion of ghosts.
Simon settled back, letting the hot air loosen his muscles. It felt good to be out of the dungeon, and even better to be free of the ship. He had spent most of the voyage below-deck, trying to keep his stomach from thundering up his throat. And all the while he had daydreamed of the Triin in shackles in the hold, and wondered why he had participated in such a thing. These days, it wasn't enough to tell himself he was Roshann. For some reason, he seemed to be developing a conscience.
"May I ask you something, Master?" he ventured.
"Of course."
"We saw no Lissen ships on the entire journey home. I was wondering what has become of them. Do you know?"
Biagio glanced at Simon. "I think you already kn the answer to that, my friend." "So they've begun their attacks?" "Nicabar has told me they have been hitting Nar shipping lanes for some time now. While you w gone they raided Doria."
Simon was astonished. "So close to the Black Ci What's Nicabar done about it?"
"Nothing," said Biagio icily. "You know u Simon. Don't look at me with such villainy. You m trust me. It is all part of my plan."
"Nar will not be able to defend itself from the Master. Not without a navy." "I know this." "Yet you do nothing?"
Biagio's blue eyes flared a warning. "I won't expl myself, not even to you. It wasn't I who stole Empire, remember? Our people have Herrith to bl for the Lissen attacks."
"But the Black Fleet can stop them, my lord. We talking about innocents. ..."
"That's enough," said Biagio, putting up a ha "Really, Simon, sometimes I think I indulge you too much. You have upset me now. My bath is ined."
Simon lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry, Master." Biagio continued to pout but said nothing u... Simon got up to leave. Then, "Where are you going,' asked the count sharply.
"I thought it best to leave you now." "Are you going to see herl" There was so much jealousy in the question Sim could only shrug. "If I may, Master." Biagio looked away. "I don't care." Simon hovered near the door. "My lord, if y don't wish it..."
"You have been very rude to me today, Simon. Yi yes, go to your woman. But remember who it is makes this relationship possible. It is by my grace that you may consort with her. You are Roshann, Simon. You are supposed to be devoted to me only. I tolerate this infatuation only because I care so much for you. Don't abuse me."
"Yes, my lord," said Simon sheepishly.
"Oh, just go," bid Biagio, waving him away. "But be around tomorrow. / want to spend some time with you too."
Simon headed for the door, but Biagio called after him yet again. This time the count's tone was softer.
"Simon," began Biagio. There was real concern in his eyes. "This is difficult for you, I know. But I ask for your trust. I know what I am doing."
"I have no doubt, Master."
"In a few days I will know more. We will all sup then together, and I will try to explain things to you all. Wait until then before you judge me too harshly."
"As you say," replied Simon with a bow. He backed out of the chamber, leaving his master encased in the scalding steam.
Simon waited until mid-morning to see Eris. She would be worried about him, but he wanted to bathe properly and discard his soiled shirt. Because he was Biagio's favorite, the closets in his chambers bulged with fine clothes to choose from, and he selected a light shirt of red Cretan silk. He shaved his beard, combed his hair, and did his best to pick the dried blood from beneath his fingernails. While he dressed servants brought him a breakfast of milk and biscuits which he promptly devoured, and when he was sure his master had left the baths and started in on his day's work, he returned to the east wing of the mansion. There he found Eris alone in the music room, absently stretching against the exercise bar. Her green eyes seemed to stare into nothingness as she warmed up her muscles. Simon paused in the doorway to watch her. She looked sad, and that made him wistful. He wished he had plucked some flowers from the garden for her. Stealthily he slipped over to the piano and depressed a key. Eris looked up, startled by the note, and beamed when she noticed him.
"Hello, sweetling," he said softly. "Simon!" Eris freed her leg from the bar and darted over to him, wrapping her arms around him and burying her head in his chest. Simon groaned and kissed her dark hair, loving its lilac scent.
"I'm sorry, my love," he whispered. "I couldn't see you earlier. I arrived last night, butЧ"
She hushed him with a kiss. Simon stole another, and when they were done he looked at her hungrily.
"Oh, I've missed you," he said. "How are you? Has he been treating you well?"
The girl laughed. "Of course. Why wouldn't he? I'm his prize."
"You're my prize," Simon purred, lifting her off her feet and twirling around the room. Eris squealed with delight. "You see? I can dance too!" Simon sang, spinning across the tiled floor. He came to rest on the piano bench, setting the little dancer upon his lap as he nibbled at her neck. Eris giggled some more, then tossed back her head and groaned. It had been endless weeks since they had touched each other, and neither of them could stem the tide.
"Not here," cautioned Eris. "Not now." "Tonight, then," Simon insisted. "When he goes to sleep."
"Yes, tonight," she agreed. "Oh, my love, I was so worried. ..."
"Do not be," said Simon. He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. "Look at me. I told you I'd come back, didn't I? And here I am."
"Yes," she said breathlessly, wrapping him in her arms. "Don't leave me again."
He grimaced. "You know I can't promise that. Don't make me lie to you."