In Legend Born (103 page)

So exhausted she could hardly keep standing up, Mirabar blew several small fires into life in the empty hours before daybreak. To ward off the menacing darkness of this endless night. To warm men chilled by grief and terror. To await the light of the most uncertain dawn of their lives.

Najdan dug food and water out of the supplies they carried and forced it upon her. She took one bite and thought she would be sick. Hot tears slid down her face again. Grief renewed itself in her heart.

Josarian was forever in Kiloran's keeping now. He would never reach the Otherworld. He would never answer a Calling. He would never see Calidar again. That was the way of the White Dragon, a death more horrible than anything the Valdani had ever devised. Until the day Kiloran finally died, Josarian's spirit would be locked in the agony it had entered last night in the jaws of that grotesque water-born creature that the old wizard had created for his enemy's destruction.

I will wait for you forever,
Calidar had said.

Mirabar now saw that the words had been prophecy, not promise. Calidar's shade had known what becoming the Firebringer would ultimately cost Josarian, what it would cost them both: an eternity apart.
Forever,
as Calidar had said; and for Josarian, an agony that would end only with Kiloran's destruction.

"Sacrifice..." Mirabar's voice broke on the word and more tears streaked down her cheeks.

Josarian had believed in Sileria's freedom more than anyone, and in making sacrifices for it.

"
Sirana
?" Dull with exhaustion, Najdan now became alert again, observing her renewed misery.

"He gave everything," she said hoarsely. "And this is his reward." She met the assassin's gaze. "When his agony finally ends, what awaits him? Oblivion. Nothing more. For
this,
he gave his life and heart to Sileria, followed the prophecy of the Firebringer, fulfilled the visions of the gods..." Her voice faded as a painful wave of guilt swept across her. "And I led him to it."

"No,
sirana
, he sought his destiny, and you—"

"I led him to it, Najdan! I went to Kandahar and turned his bloodfeud into a revolution! I Called the shade that convinced him to go to Darshon. I—"

"Shh,
sirana
. He would not want you to do this to yourself."

Najdan abandoned his usual respectful reserve and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as she wept brokenheartedly, blaming herself and railing against the gods.

"I will not serve them any longer!" she cried. "The Beckoner can stay away forever! I will not..." Her lungs strained for air in the throes of her grief and outrage. "... serve such..." She gasped again. "...cruelty."

"Ah,
sirana
." Najdan stroked her hair like a father comforting a child. "I said that when I left Kiloran. But the gods, the Otherworld, the tides of destiny... Surely they are superior to a waterlord, and their will—"

"
No,
" she said furiously. "I will not! If the Beckoner ever comes again, I will not—"

"Shhh, you're tired," Najdan said. "Make no vows or promises in the dark,
sirana
. Always wait until dawn."

They had left the riverside as soon as possible after the deadly horror of Kiloran's revenge withered back into the waters from which it had come. Stumbling through the dark, they had traveled until they were too tired to go on. Tansen's howling grief had faded into a hollow-eyed silence that was even more disturbing than his unprecedented outburst. Wounded and battered, he walked as if propelled by some secret sorcery of his own. He refused any attention for the seeping
shir
wound, or for the deep cuts and heavy bruises he had earned in the recent battle for Josarian's life. He refused food and water, too, and he ignored any attempt to communicate with him. Now he sat alone, away from the fire, his gaze fixed upon the distant, moon-drenched peak of Mount Darshon, wherein dwelled Dar the destroyer goddess.

He will both succeed and fail...

Is this what the visions meant? Tansen had been the catalyst for the rebellion. Without him, Josarian might well have died long ago at Britar. Without Tansen, Josarian would never have met Elelar or made a pact with Kiloran. Without the
shatai
, Josarian might never have left the western mountains or sought his destiny as the Firebringer.

He will both succeed and fail...

Josarian was dead, but Sileria was not free yet. Not until the Valdani left. Would they do so now?

"The prisoner," Mirabar said suddenly, her mind now called away from grief and set once again upon the path of duty.

They had brought their Outlooker prisoner with them. They had no plan or purpose, they had simply brought him along on their mad flight from Kiloran's river.

Mirabar pulled herself out of Najdan's comforting embrace and repeated, "The prisoner."

"What about him,
sirana
?"

Tansen's quiet voice startled them both. "The prisoner..."

She turned and watched the warrior rise to his feet. He approached them as they stood beside the fire she had conjured, his steps slow, his face pale with pain. His eyes were shadowed and weary. His voice was calm when he spoke. Familiar. Shrewd and quick. Once again the voice of the man she was accustomed to.

Tansen met her gaze in the firelight and nodded. "We need him to tell the Valdani that... when the Outlookers failed, the Silerians killed Josarian themselves to..." His face twisted briefly with disgust. "To seal the bargain. To fulfill the treaty."

"So they'll leave Sileria," Mirabar said.

"Kiloran knew," Tansen said. He glanced at Najdan, then turned his gaze to the fire. "He found out you had taken your woman away from Kandahar, and he knew what that meant. Knew that you would warn us. Try to save Josarian."

Najdan's eyes clouded with horror. His mouth worked for a moment, but no words came out. Even upon learning of Srijan's death, he had not looked so shocked. Finally, struggling to get the words out, he said, "Upon my soul, I swear I had no—"

"I know," Tansen said. "You couldn't have known. No one could have known, Najdan. I didn't even
believe
in..." He shuddered. The silence was heavy with memories they all wanted to banish. "We did all that we could do. Josarian himself would... say so if he were here now." He cleared his throat.

"I think the prisoner's mind is a little unhinged now," Mirabar ventured. It wasn't surprising. They at least knew what that river-born thing was. The Valdan, however, had probably doubted his own sanity from the moment he'd seen the White Dragon rise out of the water.

"As long as he can remember what we tell him to say to Kaynall," Tansen said, "that will be good enough."

They hadn't bothered to bind the Outlooker after fleeing from the site of Josarian's death. He was too frightened to try to escape in the dark and too shocked to do much besides huddle pathetically amidst the
zanareen
, who chanted and prayed, wept and mourned. Mirabar had been surprised to discover the man spoke a little common Silerian. She supposed it was why he'd been chosen to join a raiding party going deep into rebel territory, where Valdan wasn't the most useful language.

The Outlooker was willing to cooperate with Tansen's orders, as long as no one tried to make him go anywhere alone before morning. Then he fully intended to go straight back to Shaljir and board the first Valda-bound ship leaving port, even if it meant being charged with desertion.

Tansen sighed. "Sometimes we're tempted to flee, too," he admitted, "and we
live
here. But you mustn't leave until you've reported to Kaynall. After he questions you, I doubt you'll have much trouble getting back to Valda."

Once they were sure the Outlooker would do as told, Tansen questioned him about the ambush on Josarian. The Valdan didn't know who had arranged it or how.

"All I knew was that there would be two
shallaheen
at the ambush site near the river, and we were not supposed to attack the one in the yellow tunic." He brushed a trembling hand through his short hair and added, "Then we were supposed to bring Josarian's body back to Shaljir."

"To Advisor Kaynall?" Tansen asked.

The Outlooker nodded. "And Commander Cyrill. He's been in Shaljir since the surrender of Cavasar."

"How were they going to identify the body?"

"There's a Silerian who meets with Kaynall. He used to meet with Koroll, before the commander got killed b—"

"What does this Silerian look like?"

"Tall, sleek, dangerous. Always well-dressed. He has a scar on his face and speaks good V—"

"Searlon."

The Outlooker shrugged. "I don't know his name. I always had the impression that I wasn't even supposed to know about those meetings."

Mirabar met Tansen's gaze as the sky turned pink with the long-awaited dawn. "Kiloran," she said. "He means to rule Sileria now."

"Then we will just have to stop him," Tansen replied.

When morning glowed bright and brassy all around them, they gave the Outlooker a fast horse for his journey back to Valda. Before he left, Tansen also gave him a length of knotted, woven twine dotted with the rough beads of a
shallah
.

"It's a
jashar
," Tansen told the Outlooker. "Show it to anyone who tries to stop you between here and Shaljir."

"Is it some kind of spell?"

"It's a message, one which almost all Silerians can interpret.," said Tansen. "It gives you my protection to return to Shaljir as a messenger between the rebels and the
rosh
—the Valdani."

The Outlooker studied it curiously for a moment, then nodded his understanding and kicked his horse, setting off on the long journey back to the relative safety of Shaljir.

They watched him leave, then Tansen turned to Mirabar. "I want you to go back to Dalishar and—"

"No, I'd rather go to Niran," she said, thinking of the way her head always reeled at Dalishar.

"No. It must be Dalishar," Tansen insisted. "Kiloran can't hurt you there."

"If not Niran, then I'd rather return to Sanc—"

"Kiloran has used Outlookers to violate Sanctuary before. As long as there are Outlookers in Sileria, he might do so again." He took her shoulders, shaking her slightly when he could see she still intended to object. "He knows Najdan has betrayed him. He'll send someone else after you."

"I can—"

"Can you survive the White Dragon?" he asked tersely. "You saw what it did to Josarian, surrounded by a
shatai
, a Guardian, an assassin, and more than fifty men." He shook his head. "Go to Dalishar and wait for me there."

"She will go," Najdan promised. "I will see to it."

"But where are you going?" Mirabar asked.

He said nothing, only showed her the second
jashar 
he had made after weaving one for the Outlooker. She recognized it instantly.

So die all who betray Josarian.

"The
torena
," she whispered.

Tansen nodded.

"You'll never do it," Mirabar said.

"I will." There was steel in his voice.

"I'm coming with you." She didn't trust him. Not where that woman was concerned.

"I want you safe at Dalishar."

"I don't—"

"After I ki... After I do this, we must destroy Kiloran. I can't do it without you, Mira."

He was right, she realized. She must concentrate her energy against the waterlord. "All right," she said at last, "I will wait for you at Dalishar."

"I won't be long."

"There's just one thing, Tansen." Now there was steel in
her
voice.

"What?"

"Don't come back until it is done." Her gaze was fierce as she held his, willing him to remember Josarian's death. "Don't come back to me unless you can show me Elelar's blood on your sword."

Chapter Forty-Two

Tansen arrived in the middle of the night, in the silent hours when even rebels were lost in the solace of their dreams. The sight of two sleepy sentries confirmed that the
torena
was in residence at the half-ruined villa she inhabited near Chandar.