In Legend Born (28 page)

"Yes!" a woman cried, forcing her way through the crowd to face Josarian. "Yes! A bloodfeud!"

Another woman grabbed at her, but the woman—thin and far from youth, with bitter lines carved into her face—shook her off. "They've taken everything from me!
Everything
. My husband, three strong sons, my father—all killed by Outlookers or taken to the mines." She seized the small knife she wore on a frayed rope around her neck and sliced open her left palm. "I cannot use a
yahr
or raise a sword, Josarian, but a woman can hate. A woman can help. A woman can still find a way to kill!"

Everyone watched her in astonishment, for a bloodfeud was not normally women's business. But Josarian held her gaze, then nodded and took her hand. He led her to the blazing torch that Lann held.

"If your vow is sincere," he said to the woman, "then this fire will serve."

She held her hand over the flames as Lann lowered the torch for her. "I don't know the exact words," she admitted, her eyes riveted on Josarian's face.

"Then repeat them after me," he said. "I swear by Dar, by my honor, and by the memory of my slain kin..."

Two dozen other villagers wound up joining Josarian's bloodfeud that night. Most chose to stay in Malthenar and await Josarian's instructions, but a few of the younger men—ignoring their mothers' pleas—decided to accompany Josarian and his men into the mountains. Before leaving, Josarian gave the people of Malthenar almost half of the food and supplies he had just stolen from the Outlooker outpost.

Among the supplies they now hauled with them on their way to Emeldar were more swords. Tansen realized that he'd have to teach these men how to use them properly, or they'd cut themselves to ribbons. Josarian agreed with him when they discussed it the next night, the two of them still wakeful after most of the other men had fallen asleep.

"What do you think we should do in Emeldar?" Josarian asked. "Fight, or abandon the town and scatter everyone throughout other villages?"

"Both," Tansen said. "Even with your powers of persuasion, too many people will refuse to leave at first. And the Valdani believe in swift reprisal. They'll attack the village as soon as they can."

"So if we fight, this will convince the villagers of the danger they're in," Josarian concluded.

"Battles and blood are very convincing. When they see men die, when they are faced with killing men themselves, they'll know that they can never go back." Tansen nodded. "They'll follow your orders then. And when they spread news to other villages about the battle at Emeldar... "

"Other villages will know that they, too, can fight back."

"Perhaps," Tansen said. "It seems incredible, though."

"That we should fight the Valdani?"

"That we should fight anybody but each other."

As much as Koroll hated to reveal these setbacks to his commander, he knew that the death of so many Outlookers at Britar could not go unreported. Moreover, such news was disastrous enough that he must report it in person in order to deal with the questions which would now certainly arise about his ability to continue governing his district in this pathetic excuse of a country. So, having ordered one of his captains to take eighty riders and make a lasting impression on Emeldar, Koroll set out for Shaljir with a bodyguard of six men. He followed the ancient coastal road, originally built by Silerians and repaired over the centuries by successive waves of conquering peoples.

Although Myrell might now well be the best man to lead the raid, Koroll thought it would be imprudent to release him from confinement until he had dealt with his own superiors in Shaljir. Koroll wouldn't be able to avoid any blame for the mess at Britar, even though he had known nothing of Myrell's actions or intentions at the time; Myrell was under his command and was therefore his responsibility. Nonetheless, he had no intention of letting Myrell's miscalculations ruin his career. Strategy suggested that he blame himself more than was necessary when he reached Shaljir, thereby—he hoped—prompting his superiors to be the ones to point out that he shouldn't be demoted, disgraced, or executed for something he couldn't possibly have prevented. It was always better to manipulate others into speaking up for you than to speak up for yourself, Koroll found.

If his position as military governor of Cavasar remained secure,
then
he could release Myrell and find special work for him. Meanwhile, Koroll had arranged for a runner to meet him in Shaljir after the attack on Emeldar. It would look good to be able to advise his superiors of quick reprisals and a show of force.

Commander Daroll was considerably younger than Koroll and, in Koroll's opinion, shouldn't have been given the highest military office in Sileria as his very first position. He was military governor of Shaljir and its district, and thus High Commander of Sileria, overseeing both Koroll and the military governor of Liron. Inexperienced and unproven, Daroll was a younger son in one of Valda's oldest, most powerful families. Although Sileria was a backwater province of the empire, Daroll's current position was a prestigious one for someone who was barely a man.

Koroll was fifteen years older than Daroll and had served with distinction in the Emperor's wars before coming here, yet now he must report to Daroll, a callow youth, and treat him with the deference and obedience due a superior officer. The post in Shaljir had become vacant last year when an aging commander retired after half a lifetime here. Koroll knew the post should have been his, knew that he was more capable and deserving than the young fool who'd gotten it instead and who would remain there for several more years for seasoning. Now, with that avenue closed to him, Koroll's only hope of getting out of Cavasar and Sileria was to distinguish himself sufficiently to be promoted past Daroll and sent, at long last, to another part of the world. Such were the disadvantages of rising through the ranks, rather than being born beneath the Emperor's gaze. 

Handsome, educated, and arrogant, Daroll greeted Koroll with the formal courtesy of a Valdani aristocrat when he entered the command chamber in the fortress at Shaljir. Rather than make do with oft-repaired Moorlander ruins, as Koroll did, Daroll commanded his forces from a luxurious Valdani palace which had been built right next to the old Kintish fortress. Koroll's gaze  fixed momentarily on the Seal of Shaljir, the fabulous gold and jewel-encrusted symbol of Valdani power in Sileria, which hung from Daroll's neck. Envy licked at his insides like bitter flames, and he forced himself to look away from the prize that should have been his.

Since Daroll was alone, Koroll said, "I had hoped for an audience with you
and
the Imperial Advisor, sir."

It was what he had requested upon arriving in Shaljir, and Daroll damn well knew it. The Imperial Advisor was the Emperor's personal representative and reported directly to him. While Koroll didn't relish the thought of his news being conveyed to the Emperor, he was even less pleased with the thought of Daroll reporting it to the Advisor in Koroll's absence. Who knew what this young goat-molester would say about him behind his back? Koroll wanted the Advisor to hear about this from his own lips and no one else's.

"I'm afraid the Advisor still in Liron," Daroll said dismissively. "However, if you've come all this way to tell me anything of political import, I will be sure to inform him."

I'll bet you will, you woman-faced fool,
Koroll thought.

"Very well, sir," he said smoothly. "I'm sure it's best left to your judgment. I've come personally from Cavasar to report the most grievous events."

He proceeded to describe the situation, omitting his unauthorized hiring of a
shatai
, but stressing his earnest attempts to have Josarian captured or killed. He also blatantly lied, pretending that certain of Josarian's exploits had been brought to his attention only within the past few days. He concluded by taking full responsibility for Myrell's actions and the loss of so many men.

"You're damn
right
you'll take full responsibility!" Daroll thundered. "Why was I not informed of this problem from the very beginning?"

"Sir, the crimes of a lone
shallah
hardly seemed worthy of bringing to your—"

"A lone
shallah
who killed two Outlookers as his very first crime, and has continued plundering and killing ever since, you blundering idiot!"

Koroll tried not to wince, remembering how he had used those very words when addressing Myrell a few days ago.

"We thought—"

"
We?
"

"
I
thought, sir, that the entire military force of Cavasar should be able to deal with one
shallah
."

"I suggest that it is not the
men
who are at fault, Koroll, but their commander."

"I have made every possible attempt to capture—"

"You have done
nothing
useful!"

"One Silerian amidst those mountains—"

"Offer a reward, you fool! These people are hungry, like people everywhere. They'll turn him in."

"We have, sir, but the chances of a monetary reward proving successful in Sileria are quite slim, since their culture prohibits them from revealing information to outs—"

"I don't give a damn what their culture prohibits!"

"I suggest—"

"You've suggested quite enough, Commander," Daroll snapped. "Finish your report, if you please."

Koroll did so, earning an even hotter glare from his superior officer.

"Reprisals against Emeldar?
That's
your plan?" Daroll said scathingly.

"Not my whole plan, sir. Merely what I was able to set into motion before proceeding here with all due haste to—"

"Has it occurred to you that rather than imprisoning men and now butchering women and children from this obscure village, we stand a far better chance of catching this outlaw if we simply
buy
the information we need?"

"As I've tried to explain,
sir
—"

"Spare me your protestations about these noble savages."

"It's not nobility," Koroll insisted. "These people live and die by certain rules, sir, and one of their most rigid customs is that they never reveal anything to outsiders. Even if someone wanted the money enough to come forward and betray Josarian, not only would such a man's entire community shun him, but the Honored Society would almost certainly assassinate him to enforce
lirtahar
—their code of silence. The Society would not let such a violation of traditional law go unpunished among Silerians, and the
shallaheen
know it."

"The people in this country are now governed by Valdani law, Commander, not the barbaric rules of an outlawed water magic cult." Daroll silenced Koroll's reply with a curt gesture. "I have lost patience with your excuses, Koroll. If you were an officer of lesser rank, I would have you arrested for the mess you've created for the Emperor. However, it could adversely affect morale if the men saw the Commander of Cavasar thrown into a cell. Therefore, consider yourself lucky to be confined to quarters until further notice."

Daroll summoned two Outlookers and ordered them to escort Koroll to his quarters within the palace. "He's not to be disturbed until I send for him again."

Fuming at the insults he had endured from a mere boy, and sick with fear as he thought of what this disaster would do to his life, Koroll went to his quarters, a comfortable room overlooking the palace's inner courtyard. Deprived of his freedom, he cooled his heels in there for four days, alternating between fury and despair, scarcely touching the food which was brought to his door twice a day. By the time Daroll sent for him again, he was almost relieved. Anything, even disgrace and punishment, would be better than this eternal waiting.

Upon entering Daroll's command chamber, he was surprised not to find the Imperial Advisor there; he had assumed he'd been summoned because Daroll had relayed his report to the Advisor and the two of them had decided his fate. Daroll's only companion, however, was an exhausted-looking Outlooker, his gray uniform coated with red dust.

"This is one of my runners," Daroll said without preamble. "I sent two to Emeldar to find out the results of your—"

"I'm expecting my own runner," Koroll interrupted. He didn't feel much need to be respectful to a man who'd already decided to ruin him.

"Then you are destined to be disappointed." There was a coldness in Daroll's voice that Koroll had never heard before, not even during their last disastrous meeting in this room. "None of your men—not a single one—survived the attack on Emeldar."

Koroll swayed slightly. "I...
What
did you say?"

"Tell him," Daroll said to the runner.

The young Outlooker looked haunted and dazed. "We two were spotted by
shallah
sentries outside of Emeldar. They killed my partner, then hauled me into the village to see... to see the carnage." He swallowed hard. "Bodies everywhere. Dozens of them. All ours. Even more outside of the village—many more.  They—the
shallaheen
—they had known the riders were coming. They set a trap in a mountain pass... Two huge woven nets. The riders rode into one as it rose suddenly before them. Then one rose behind them, too, preventing escape. The
shallaheen
on the cliffs rained rocks and boulders down upon them, then arrows. Then they descended to kill anyone who wasn't yet dead." The lad's teeth started chattering. "The riders who came from the other direction, who escaped the deathtrap in the mountain pass... Oh, Three have mercy! I've never seen a dead man before, and there were so
many
. I—I never—never—"