In Legend Born (13 page)

"If they do, they're not likely to tell us," Tashinar pointed out.

"How did he go from being Harlon's son to being the Firebringer?" Mirabar wondered.

"Oh, you know the sort of tales the
shallaheen
tell."

"I know how they worship the assassins," Mirabar said with disgust. "I know how they cower before the waterlords."

"Harlon was a hero to them, fighting the Valdani the way he did."

"Never mind that thousands of them died because of Harlon."

"The Valdani wanted Harlon's child. They wanted him badly. I remember it well. Many people must have risked their lives to get him safely out of Sileria and out of the Emperor's reach." Tashinar shrugged. "You know how stories spin out over the years. Armian was probably still a mere boy when people began telling tales of his great skill and courage as a warrior."

Mirabar scowled. "Even
I
could kill a man with an enchanted blade—especially an unarmed man." She had seen Society assassins at work and knew their ways.

"Still, Silerians have always preferred a homegrown killer to a foreign one," Tashinar said dryly.

"So people embroidered the story," Mirabar guessed, "and said Armian was destined to return to Sileria to fight the Valdani?"

"Yes. And with that, it was not surprising that some even began to say he was the Firebringer, the long-prophesied hero who would lead us again to the glory we once knew."

"Uh-huh. But first he has to please the
zanareen
by flinging himself into the volcano and surviving." Mirabar rolled her eyes. "In which case, we'll never be free."

"You speak of freedom so often now," Tashinar said quietly. "It's been a thousand years since we were free. Do you really think we will be again?"

Mirabar looked again at the strange symbol she had drawn in the dirt. Was the warrior coming from Kintish lands? Would he really free them?

He will succeed, and he will fail.

"I don't know,
sirana
," she said at last. "I don't know."

Chapter Five

Josarian circled the tiny, isolated Sanctuary of the Sisterhood several times before finally concluding that it wasn't being watched. The Valdani were tightening their net, and it paid to be careful. Zimran had not been at their appointed meeting place, an old lightning-struck tree that was about three hours' walk from here. Josarian had arrived there to find a woven, knotted cord hanging from one of its branches; the message advised him to come here today after dark.

His brief life as an outlaw had already taught him to take nothing at face value, and it occurred to him that this might be a trap. The mysterious stranger who was searching the mountains for him knew their ways and their language. It seemed possible that he had found out where Zimran was next supposed to meet Josarian, had gone there himself, and had left the small
jashar
Josarian had found hanging in the tree. Nothing in the area around the tree suggested that a struggle had taken place, but that didn't necessarily mean Zimran was safe. The stranger, Tansen, could have killed Zim elsewhere. Or he could be holding him hostage at this small, isolated Sanctuary. Perhaps he was even now waiting inside the hut to kill Josarian.

So, suspicious and wary, Josarian arrived before sunset, circled the area several times, then crept up to the best-protected side of the little stone building, under the cover of heavy shadows. Listening at the hut's eastern window, he heard ragged breathing inside, as if someone were in panic or in pain. Moving with caution, he peered into the building—and was immediately relieved by what he saw in the shadowed interior. His cousin was on a narrow cot in the corner of the room, naked and glistening with sweat as he ground his hips against the woman who writhed energetically beneath him. With a wry grin, Josarian crept around the hut and crouched quietly by the front door, waiting for them to finish.

Calidar had always loathed Zimran for his womanizing, referring to his many conquests as the half-witted victims of his lust. While Josarian couldn't comment on their intelligence, most of the women Zimran sported with definitely didn't seem to consider themselves victims. Indeed, judging by the impassioned moans and urgent instructions of the woman inside the Sanctuary with Zimran right now, this one—like most the others that Josarian could recall—seemed quite pleased with the situation. True, there had once been a girl who'd begged Zimran to marry her after she'd become pregnant, and even Josarian, loyal though he was, thought Zim's recalcitrant behavior on that occasion had been disgraceful. The girl had wound up miscarrying—intentionally, some said—and was sent to live with relatives in Adalian, where it was hoped she might still find a husband.

Only Josarian's love for his cousin had made it possible for Zimran to eat at his table or sit beneath his roof after that, since Calidar openly despised Zim from that day forward, only showing him hospitality out of respect for her husband's wishes. After that close call with the marriage knife, however, Zimran had confined his amorous activities strictly to experienced women. It was rumored that he had nonetheless sired a few other men's children; but as long as he didn't seduce any wives in Emeldar itself, he was still a beloved son of his native village. Widows, of course, were another matter, and most people in Emeldar looked the other way if they chanced to see Zimran creeping into a lonesome woman's house after dark. Of course, the village might be a more peaceful place if he'd confine himself to
one
widow. Josarian—who had never touched any woman but his own wife—still blushed when he remembered the insults that two of Zimran's lovers had shouted at each other in the main square of the village one day a couple of years ago.

Josarian had also thought Zimran was crazy to seduce the bored wife of a Valdani landowner a few months ago, but he had to admit that the information she whispered to his cousin across her pillow about Outlooker movements had come in handy since he'd become an outlaw. Nonetheless, if Josarian had walked three extra hours today just so Zimran could enjoy a woman as well as meet with him, then he was going to punch his cousin as hard as he could when he finally came up for air.

"Yes,
yes
..." the woman in the hut wailed.

Zimran grunted harder and faster, and the cot started thudding against the wall.

Sudden desire coiled inside Josarian's belly, languidly unfurling and flowing down to pool in his loins as the couple inside the Sanctuary panted, moaned, and rode their way to ecstasy. He took a deep breath, welcoming thoughts of Calidar even as he fought them. Remembering the joys of his marriage bed only made him ache—and in a way that could be quite embarrassing if he was to meet with his cousin in just a few minutes. But sometimes the ache was as sweet as it was painful, and so he let his mind dwell on remembered pleasures, even as his body dwelled on needs that now had no outlet—except a solitary one that was a sorry substitute for what he'd known with his wife.

Fortunately, the rhythmic noises inside the hut peaked and died before his body broke free of the shackles of his will. He heard the Sister inside the Sanctuary sigh with deep satisfaction, and his cousin laughed exultantly. Some of the Sisters were virgins who had felt a calling and joined the Sisterhood at an early age. Most, though, were widows who'd lost their men to bloodfeuds, disease, assassins, accidents, the mines, or the Outlookers. They had sought a new purpose in a land where there were few spare men and where the chances of re-marriage were slim for a
shallah
woman. Josarian suspected that such women were pleased to have the occasional company of a handsome young lover such as his cousin.

He gave the couple a few minutes for pillow talk. Then he called through the knotted and beaded ropes that covered the doorway, "Good evening, cousin! I hope I come at a good time."

The woman inside gasped and started whispering frantically. Josarian grinned as he heard them both scramble for their clothing, though his cousin's voice sounded calm and satisfied.

"You're early," Zimran called back.

"Stay where you are!" the woman added.

"Good evening, Sister Basimar," Josarian said politely, still speaking past the door
jashar
which, among other things, identified the Sister who lived here. "Are you well? A moment ago you sounded like you might be in pain."

The woman stuttered out a nonsensical response, her voice rich with embarrassment.

"Ignore him," Zim advised. "He's just envious."

"Mostly, I'm tired," Josarian said. "Is there a good reason—a
very
good reason—why you made me meet you here?"

A sun-darkened hand shoved aside the door
jashar
, and Zimran appeared, face and bare chest shining with perspiration. "A
very
good reason," he said with a broad grin.

"Come outside where I can hit you," Josarian said.

The woman gasped again and cried, "Don't hurt him!"

Zimran's grin broadened. "She likes my pretty face."

"Don't they all?" Josarian said wearily. "She can clean it for you when I'm done."

The woman thrust her head through several strands of the
jashar
. She looked from one man to the other for a moment, then said, "You're teasing, aren't you?"

"Almost," Josarian said, eyeing his cousin with some disfavor.

"Basimar." Zimran tilted his head. "My cousin, Josarian."

Having made the introductions, Zimran sauntered away from the door and retrieved his gossamer tunic from the floor. Sister Basimar backed into the stone hut, and Josarian followed her. She was perhaps ten years older than he, plump, and still pretty. She wore the long, simple gown of a Sister. She hadn't laced up the front yet, and he could see that her throat and the slope of her breasts were as pleasure-flushed as her face.
No, Calidar,
he thought,
she's not a victim.

Basimar nervously tried to tidy her hair as she mumbled something about how pleased she was to meet Josarian. She glanced at the cot, then apparently decided that tidying that, too, would merely call more attention to what had just happened there. Instead, she offered wine to both men. Josarian accepted and sat down at the simple wooden table in the middle of the room.

"Well?" he prodded Zimran, who seemed more interested in stroking various rounded portions of the Sister's anatomy than in talking to his cousin.

Basimar blushed rosily, seeming as pleased as she was embarrassed. Nonetheless, she pushed Zim's hand away from her bottom and sat down at some distance from him.

"There's more news about this stranger, this Tansen," Zim said, growing serious at last.

"He killed an assassin. I know," Josarian said.

"My brother-in-law," Basimar said.

"The assassin?" Josarian asked.

She nodded. "My late husband's youngest brother."

Josarian caught his cousin's eye, realizing that there was a good reason for them to meet here. "Tell me more."

"Tell him what you told me last time," Zimran added.

She was a long-winded woman, but Josarian recognized the salient factors of the story pretty quickly. The stranger was sought by Kiloran—
Kiloran!
—for some long-ago offense. Related to the slaughter in Gamalan? Apparently no one knew. Basimar's brother-in-law had tried to claim the bloodvow as a means of gaining recognition. He was young and inexperienced, yet it had taken Tansen a long time to kill him. Moreover, Tansen had not come away unscathed. He was now reported to be carrying wounds delivered by the boy's
shir
. Those would not heal soon, Josarian knew. They would be painful; perhaps they would slow him down.

The woman talked at length and answered all of Josarian's questions, some in detail, some with general speculation. By the time Zimran walked him to the top of the ridge to say farewell in private, he had made up his mind.

"Go after him?" Zimran repeated in astonishment. "You mean to fight him?"

"Why not? We won't get rid of him any other way."

"Why
not
? Because he's got swords, and you've got a
yahr
."

"I killed two armed Outlookers with a
yahr
, and Tansen barely managed to kill a young assassin with his swords." Josarian nodded confidently. "I can take him."

Zimran's gaze scanned the heavens as he thought it over. Two crescent moons hung low in the evening sky. "He'll be easy enough to find, at least."

"He's about as discreet as a marauding Moorlander," Josarian said contemptuously.

"All right," Zim agreed at last. "Let's take him."

"And let's make sure the Valdani think twice before sending another one like him after me."

"I wonder..."

"What?"

"I wonder why Kiloran wants his blood?"