In Legend Born (57 page)

"The Kints drove out the Conquerors," Josarian pointed out as kindly as possible. The legend was very old.

"
And he will lead the people to glory, making of them a warrior race once again, and drive out the foreigner, drive away the
roshaheen
...
Surely you know the scriptures?"

"I can't read."

"Then I will recite them for you!"

Jalilar hopped to her feet. "If you'll excuse me, there is much work to be done in camp."

Josarian glared at her retreating back as she escaped from the cave. Before the
zanar
could do as threatened, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Jalan."

"Jalan, I have never claimed to be the Firebringer, and—"

"He will not claim his glory himself! That is for Dar to do. He will plunge into ecstatic union with the goddess and—"

"Yes, I understand. But I'm not the one."

"But you
are
... I look at you and I see the favor of the goddess."

What did Tansen always say? Men saw what they wanted to see. Josarian said courteously, "Then I am honored to be favored by the goddess, for I have been faithful and true all my life, but—"

"You must come back to Darshon with me."

"I can't," he said firmly. "We're fighting a rebellion."

"Yes!" Jalan cried. "And if you are the Firebringer come at last—at
last!
—all Sileria will flock to your banner, and our liberation shall come to pass!"

"And if I'm not the Firebringer, I'll die in the volcano," Josarian pointed out reasonably. "Wouldn't it be better if I just stayed here and
fought
until—"

"Your light cannot be mistaken! Has no one before ever asked you to come forth and embrace Dar?"

"Well, yes, but..." The
zanareen
were always seeking recruits.

"I knew it! Why did you not go?"

He almost laughed. "My mother wouldn't let me. I was only thirteen, and—"

"Yes, it would have shown by then. The light of Her favor! You were young, so
young
, but already a man by then... Your destiny has always been to embrace Her. You should have gone!"

Perhaps another argument would be more effective. "But surely Armian is the Firebringer?"

"He's dead," Jalan said dismissively. "The story of his shade bringing prophecy to you is all over the mountains."

In spreading the story, they had kept Tansen's relationship to Armian—as well as the murder—a secret, and had revealed only certain aspects of the extraordinary events at Kandahar. Even Kiloran honored their silence on certain subjects, for he was not eager to tell the world he had been defied and defeated by a boy nine years ago.

"Then you know," Josarian said, "that Armian  convinced the Society and the Guardians to join the
shallaheen
. Our union was born of Armian's—"

"The Firebringer can't be
dead
before the battle is even begun. The Firebringer will
lead
us against the foreign invaders, not spew prophecy from the Otherworld!"

The
zanareen
could be so single-minded. "Nonetheless, he—"

"And he was an assassin," Jalan spat. "Do you really think the goddess would embrace an
assassin?
"

Josarian held up his hands. "I claim no knowledge of what the goddess—" He stopped abruptly when Jalan seized his right hand.

"A marriage-mark." Jalan studied the scar made by Calidar years ago. "You have a wife?"

"I did. She died."

"Ahhh." Jalan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Of course. The goddess took her."

Josarian prickled. He did not like casual talk of Calidar's death. "
Childbirth
took her."

"The goddess freed you from marital bondage—"

"No."

"—that you might be free to embrace Her at Darshon, to serve Her will and follow your destiny!"

"
No
," Josarian said firmly.

"Don't you see?"

"Many men lose wives, Jalan, and mine—"

"Yours was
destined
to die, to free you for a higher purpose."

"There
was
no higher purpose than loving Calidar," he snapped, smarting with anger, recoiling from this madman's suggestions.

"You see?" Jalan pounced. "Dar knew you would not leave your wife willingly, not as others have. Dar knew you must lose her before you would consecrate your life to the Fires."

Disgusted, Josarian pulled hard to get his hand away from Jalan. "You're wrong."

"You know I speak the truth. You
feel
it in your heart. You hear the call of the goddess!"

"
I
hear a madman gloating about my wife's death."

"In time, you will go to Her," said Jalan. "Even
I
feel her pull in your presence."

"Then
you
go to Her."

"She calls you, not me, to the Fires."

"How convenient," said Josarian.

"You will feel Her call, too. In time, you will go to Her, as is your destiny."

"In time, I will die on the point of a Valdani sword," Josarian said, rising to flee, eager to get away from this man. "Now, if you will excuse me..."

"
And he will join with Her in ecstatic union, offering his flesh to the Fires as a man offers his flesh to a woman..."

Josarian escaped into the sunshine and kept walking until he was well away from the sound of that voice, the offense of that quavering, insistent proselytizing.

Falian, whose face was now scarred from Tansen's blade and the events of that first night at Dalishar, was outside. He paused in the practice of his swordplay, looked over his shoulder, and smiled sympathetically. "No one likes
zanareen
."

Josarian nodded and forced an answering smile, not wanting Falian and the other men here to see how disturbed he was by the encounter. Dar knew he had blamed himself often enough for Calidar's death. If he had not gotten her with child... He wanted her back, wanted her here now more than he wanted to fight the Valdani or be free. Without thinking, he drew her scarf out of his tunic and pressed it against his face. Sorrow and loss pricked him sharply, because he realized, for the first time, that the silky material no longer bore her scent. It smelled like
him
now, from the many months it had spent pressed against his heart.

Calidar...
A small thing, in its way, the loss of her scent on a scarf which, he knew, probably hadn't
really
smelled of her for months and months. But it crushed his heart, all the same. Longing for her, he called up a hundred aching memories, rekindling her life in his mind.

She'd had a temper, his wife, as well as a deep, wicked laugh. Her waist was small, though the rest of her was generous; she hadn't minded losing that slender waist to bear a child. And strong, ah, that woman had been strong. Not as strong as he, but she could lift anything that Zimran could. She used to go barefoot all year, until the weather got too cold, disdaining the fine shoes he'd once brought her from Cavasar. She usually stood with her right hand on her hip, gesturing with her left, and her unruly dark hair was always tumbling down her back by the day's end. The marriage-mark on her right palm had grown inflamed after their wedding, making a fat, irregular scar when it finally healed. A sign of bad luck, some said, but she had loved her husband fiercely and merely laughed at such superstitions...

Calidar...
Josarian turned away from his men so they wouldn't see the mist in his eyes.

By all the Fires, if he believed he had condemned her to death by marrying her, then he would gladly throw himself into Darshon—or off a cliff. But it was an insane suggestion, one he'd have to be more than half-mad to listen to.

Calidar...

Sick with longing, with a grief that hadn't been this sharp in months, he deserted camp to find solace in the lonely wildness of the mountains. Some memories, such as Tansen's, a man ran from; some memories, such as Josarian's, a man held dear and clung to. Some memories should never be profaned by the ravings of a wild-eyed fanatic.

Summer was dying now, the brutal heat of the days softening into glowing warmth. The land was stunned, withered, and brown from the blazing sun and dry skies of the cruelest season. Even up here at Dalishar, distant from the world, he could often smell brush fires on the wind.

Tansen was due back any day now to report on his progress in the east. Josarian was merely waiting for his bloodbrother before going out on another raid, another campaign to gain support, and more meetings with Guardians, assassins, waterlords, and the Alliance. Mirabar was busy further south. Giants like Kiloran and Baran understood what was at stake and had called a truce, but some of the lesser waterlords were a little harder to convince. Some simply did as they were told; but others, it had quickly become apparent, needed the sort of convincing spectacle that only Mirabar could provide. To the amazement of the other Guardians, she had developed such a strong bond with Armian that she could Call him even without the
shir
. That was just as well, too, since Kiloran had no intention of letting her have it.

Hoping Jalan had finally gone away, Josarian returned to camp that afternoon with a stag slung over his shoulders, slain for his sister. Jalilar had come to Dalishar to be with Emelen who, to her consternation, wasn't even here. After clobbering her brother for turning her into a widow while her husband still lived, she had decided to stay here anyhow—and Jalilar really knew how to dress meat and feed a man. He'd miss her when she left, as she surely would before long; tired of sleeping alone, she intended to go east with the next runner he sent from Dalishar to Emelen. Meanwhile, he and his men enjoyed her cooking.

He recognized a familiar figure when he approached the caves. Tansen was there, lean, quick, and sharp as a blade, instructing half a dozen men in the use of their swords. Josarian grinned, glad to see him. As always, Tansen was more reserved than he, but plainly glad to see him, too.

They went into Josarian's cave and sat down together over a bottle of smuggled Kintish spirits that Tan had brought back from Liron, exchanging news and information. The rebellion was already spreading in the east, and they had struck the Outlookers hard several times over the summer. Josarian had heard about some—but not all—of the raids.

"The Outlookers weren't expecting trouble in the east," Tansen said, taking off his harness and relaxing into cushions stolen from a Valdani estate. "They thought the rebellion would stay confined to the west."

"It's the same in the district of Shaljir. They were unprepared for attack. Their losses were heavy at first."

"I know. People talked of little else as I came through there on my way here." Tansen eyed Josarian and added, "There is
one
other thing they talk of, though."

"What's that?"

"The Firebringer."

Josarian rolled his eyes. "Don't
you
start."

"I met Jalan when I got here." Tansen's mouth quirked. "His conversation is limited, but very interesting."

"I thought
you
thought the Firebringer was dead."

"Well... the Valdani are still here, so I guess I was wrong."

Josarian sighed. "This will be a long night, if you're going to start siding with Jalan."

Tansen looked at him in surprise. "I didn't think it would bother you so much."

"Then he hasn't told you
all
his theories."

Tansen stripped off his tunic. "You can tell me while I wash. I'm carrying half of Sileria's dirt around with me."

So he told him. Tansen had shared far more horrifying things with him, after all, than the insulting ravings of a madman.

Soaking wet and shivering a little from the cold water, Tansen wrapped himself in a blanket and sat by the woodless fire. He was silent for a long time, which made Josarian uneasy; he was accustomed to Tan's skepticism and didn't like the thoughtful expression on his face.

"You don't think it's true, do you?" Josarian challenged at last.

"Actually... no." Tansen stared into the flames. "But I know what is it to feel you've caused the death of someone you love." He met Josarian's gaze at last. "Did everyone in Gamalan die because I found and sheltered Armian? Would they have died even if I had not helped him? Would I have died, too, if I had been there, instead of on the coast that night? Even if I had never seen him? What part did I play in what happened to my mother, my sister, my grandfather..."

"Tan..."

"I'll never know." He leaned forward. "And neither will you."

"I..." Josarian looked away. "Jalan was right about one thing. I wouldn't be here if Calidar were still alive. I wouldn't have started smuggling with Zim. I would never..." He shifted restlessly. "And if I hadn't... would any of this be happening?"

Tansen shrugged, frowning in thought. "The demon girl's visions were of me, not you."

"Mirabar?" When Tansen nodded, he asked, "Then would you have led the
shallah
rebellion?"

"I don't know what I would be doing if you were safely tucked in bed in Emeldar right now," Tansen admitted. "I wanted vengeance when I came home. I wanted Valdani blood. But... I had no plan, no purpose, no goal. And I didn't have your vision." He put his hand on Josarian's shoulder, doing the comforting for a change. "You looked into the future and saw rebellion. War. Maybe even freedom. You saw something that would outlive both of us, something much bigger than personal vengeance or private hatred. I never saw any of that until you showed it to me. I can't be sure that I
ever
would have seen it, without you."

Josarian stared into the flames. "Then if I must be here for all of this to happen..." He sighed, wishing the ache would ease. "I would have rather died a hundred times than be the cause of Calidar's death, but..."

"But?"

"
She
would have rather died for something than for nothing. For a reason, rather than sheer chance."