In Legend Born (96 page)

Politics had always bewildered him. Evidently Koroll had become such an embarrassment to his masters that they felt they'd look better if he died in combat in Sileria, rather than being transported back to Valda to face charges and execution. The Imperial Council, after all, had left a corrupt and incompetent commander in charge here through sheer ignorance and negligence, Elelar explained. Now they were eager to conceal from their people—and especially from their political opponents—how much their own carelessness had contributed to the loss of Sileria.

"They admit they're going to lose?" Tansen had asked.

"Well, only one or two of them. And only in secret," was Elelar's response.

She made the plan sound logical and convincing. She also made it sound too easy. Traveling deep into Valdani territory to ambush the one man who should be better protected than any other Valdan in Sileria except the new Imperial Advisor... Well, it should
not
be easy.

Yet, incredibly, it
was.
Everything went perfectly, just as Elelar had planned, without any of the problems which Tansen had expected and planned for. Disguised as Outlookers escorting rebel prisoners to a coastal fortress, Tansen's party of six men had been met by a quiet, cold-eyed Outlooker at the edge of rebel territory. He guided them safely to the site of the proposed ambush, traveling by night, hiding by day, and asking no questions.

When they spotted Koroll, he was traveling with an escort of twenty men. Exactly as Elelar had predicted, at a pre-arranged signal from Tansen's Outlooker guide, sixteen of Koroll's riders turned around and galloped away, heading back to Shaljir and abandoning their commander to his fate. Even Jalan, confronting the newborn Firebringer at Darshon, hadn't looked as stunned as Koroll did now.

The four men who remained with him had been hand-picked by Koroll himself long ago, and so they had not been included in the plan devised by someone senior to Koroll, someone able to order sixteen Outlookers to abandon their commanding officer to certain death. The Imperial Advisor, perhaps? Someone on the Council?

And they say that
we
are a treacherous people.

The Advisor's man stayed hidden and merely watched while the rebels attacked the remaining four Outlookers guarding Koroll. The battle was brief and deadly. Four Valdani died for their loyalty to a doomed man.

Alive, alone, and disarmed, Koroll raged furiously, hurling threats and insults at the "Outlookers" confronting him—until he saw Tansen. His eyes flew wide open with shock and he sought air in a long, noisy, horrible gasp.

"Tr...
trap
," he croaked.

"Yes, Commander." Having posed as a rebel prisoner during the journey, rather than as an Outlooker, Tansen was wearing his own clothes. Despite the changes in his appearance since their encounter at Cavasar, he saw recognition flash in Koroll's eyes. Of course, a man who carried two Kintish swords was hard to forget in Sileria. He sheathed them now and said, "Outlookers ambushed Josarian disguised as Silerians, so
we
..." He shrugged. "As you see."

Koroll gazed at the mounted gray-clad men around him with glazed eyes. "
Rebels.
" Making an obvious attempt to pull his wits together, he looked down the road in the direction his escort had disappeared. "And them?"

"Genuine Outlookers," Tansen said dryly. "The Emperor's finest."

Moving slowly, Koroll turned back to him. He looked around, as if reconstructing the events which had just occurred. Finally he said, "I've been... betrayed."

"Yes."

Koroll frowned. "Did you bribe my men?"

Tansen grinned. "You flatter us, Commander. We don't have
that
much money."

"
Kaynall.
" Koroll's face crumbled with sorrow for a moment, then turned red with fury. Clenching his fists, he snarled, "The Council! Those fatherless goat-molesters! I
told
them I needed more men, more money! I
told
them I couldn't hold this godsforsaken land for them with nothing but prayers, threats, and luck! Daroll was a
fool.
Borell was a coward! And I—"

"And you, Commander," Tansen said without sympathy, "are a liar."

Koroll's eyes glittered with hatred. "A strange accusation for a Silerian to make. Your accursed race invented the practice."

"You give us too much credit," Tansen replied. "We merely perfected it."

"You did a good job in Cavasar,
shatai
, I'll grant you that."

"You saw what you wanted to see." Tansen lifted one brow and added, "And then you tried to hide your mistake with another lie. Really, Commander," he chided, "telling people that I
stole
my own swords?"

"And will you use them to kill me now,
shatai
?"

"It would be easiest," Tansen admitted. "But Josarian wants to deal with you himself, so I must bring you back to him."

"So you serve him." Koroll sneered. "He's an illiterate peasant who'd never have gone beyond those savage mountains if not for you. And you, a
shatai
, do his bidding."

Tansen ignored the clumsy attempt to insult him. No one who knew Josarian would doubt his worthiness to command even a
shatai
.

So he merely replied, "That's right."

"I don't understand you." Koroll frowned and shook his head. "Why? Tell me that. Before you deliver me to him, just tell me
why.
"

"Why
what
, Commander?"

Koroll came forward, holding his gaze. "Why did you do it? Three Into One, you're a
shatai
! A man like you... You could have been anything you wanted to be, anywhere in the three corners of the world." Ignoring the warning gesture made by one of the rebels, Koroll seized the front of Tansen's tunic. "Of all the things you could have done with your life, why—by all the gods above and below—did you join forces with a lone
shallah
outlaw and make war on the greatest empire in the world?"

"Because I'm a Silerian," Tansen said simply. "And a full-blooded
shallah
, by the way."

"I would have kept my promise." Koroll's hot breath fanned his face. "I'd have doubled your gold, given you more contracts, made you my right arm in Sileria."

"I didn't want to be your right ar—" 

"I could have made you rich!"

"But you couldn't have made me free."

"You believe that tripe, too?" Koroll exclaimed, clinging to him. "Even you?"

"What tripe is that?" Tansen tried to shove him away.

Growing demented, Koroll clung like a leech. "The Firebringer! A mystic fireborn savior! Freedom?
Here?
"

"All right, Commander, I think it's time—"

Tansen saw it coming too late. Realized his mistake too late. He had underestimated Koroll. He had been careless and arrogant with a prisoner. The rebels hadn't searched Koroll for concealed weapons, assuming the High Commander wouldn't carry any while riding under armed escort well within his own territory.
Mistake.
A cry of agony escaped Tansen's lips as the wavy-edged blade of a
shir
slipped through his ribs in search of his heart.

Cold.
Bitter cold. A poisonous cold that burned worse than the Fires of Dar.

"Tan!" He heard the horrified shout of one of his men.

Koroll's arm was around his neck. The commander held Tansen's sagging body between himself and the rebels. The deadly chill of the
shir
against his throat made Tansen's eyes water. The pain of his wound made him dizzy and sick. Blood coursed down his side, soaking his tunic.

"All of you! Dismount now!" Koroll shouted.

"Kill him!" Tansen ordered.

"Quiet!" Koroll dug the
shir
into his flesh.

"Tansen!"

"Kill him!" Tansen repeated.

"If you even
move,
he dies!" Koroll warned.

The wound was bad. He could tell. Very bad. He might well die even without getting his throat cut. He would certainly pass out in another moment.

A
shir
... Who did he kill to get a
shir
?

"Off your horses! Move over there. Now!" Koroll shouted. It was a tone that had commanded thousands of Outlookers. It was having its intended effect on rebels who were stunned by the sudden destruction of someone they had always considered invincible.

Ah, but every man can be killed.
Every
man.

"That's right," he heard Koroll say to the rebels. "Just do as you're told."

"Kill him..." Tansen's tongue felt thick. His voice sounded weak.

Armian... I'm coming. You'll have your vengeance at last.

His mind was wandering. He was weakening.

Focus on the task at hand.

He had just one chance. He might as well take it, since death was otherwise certain instead of just probable.

He gathered what was left of his strength and moved suddenly, throwing Koroll off-balance just enough to enable Tansen to slip his arm between the
shir
and his neck. Koroll recovered quickly and attempted to slit his throat, but he merely made a painful cut on Tansen's forearm now, and
shatai
were trained to ignore such wounds.

Tansen shoved at Koroll with one arm, positioning a foot to make him stumble. He simultaneously used his other arm to unsheathe a sword and sweep it across Koroll's belly, all in one move. The Outlooker doubled over, and Tansen brought the blade down on his neck, killing him instantly.

He was not a
shatai
for nothing.

You should have known better, Commander.

Agony washed through him as he stared at the corpse of his enemy. He was breathing much too hard for so brief an encounter. He felt hot and cold at once. There was a lot of blood—Koroll's or his? He didn't know.

Tansen didn't realize he had fallen to his knees until he felt two men trying to help him up. He tried to rise, but his legs buckled.

A Valdan with a
shir
. What next?

The sky looked... very blue today. There would be no rain for awhile now. Dust choked him, and the ground felt hard beneath his head.

"Tansen..." The voice was far away. "Can you hear me?"

It was dark suddenly. Pitch black. A dark-moon night? He was dizzy. And
tired.
So very tired...

"Nev... N..."

"What, Tansen?"

Koroll should never have tried to get the best of him. Koroll, of all people! He had known what a
shatai
was, after all.

And how Josarian would laugh. Tansen, the great warrior who was always correcting Josarian's form and criticizing his technique, had been slaughtered by an aging Valdani prisoner in a moment of carelessness.

Ah, how Josarian would weep... He was sentimental sometimes, Josarian was.

I am prepared to die today. Are you?

Chapter Thirty-Nine

He is a blade, this man.

At the moment, though, a very dull and worn one. Dissatisfied with the clumsy Sister who had been attending Tansen upon her arrival, Mirabar had sent for Basimar. The woman could be irritatingly foolish at times, but Mirabar had seen enough of her healing skills to have faith in her ability to keep Tansen alive and make him whole again. However, now that he was getting better and she was less worried about him, Mirabar almost regretted the decision, because Basimar kept her busy with the most menial tasks she had performed since her early days among the Guardians.

Until Basimar's arrival, Mirabar's primary role here had been to supervise the previous Sister (Lann's assertion that she had "terrorized" the woman was untrue, unfair, and outrageous) and offer prayers to Dar for Tansen's recovery. Now Basimar had her washing and rolling bandages, preparing broth, emptying a wooden bucket that served as Tansen's chamber pot, and changing the linen on Tansen's pallet with monotonous regularity—a chore that he certainly didn't make any easier with his bad temper and dark scowls.

"I am a Guardian of the Otherworld," Mirabar said aloud, speaking to the savage wilderness of the mountains looming in the distance. "I have better things to do with my time than boil, hang, dry, and roll rags for some warrior's wounds."

She looked hastily over her shoulder, afraid she might have spoken loud enough for Basimar to hear her. Fortunately, no critical comments emerged from the Shrine of the Three where Tansen lay recovering under the Sister's supervision.

It was a relief to everyone to know that Commander Koroll was dead, but the price of that monster's defeat had seemed too high during those first few days that Tansen lay hovering between life and death. A
shir
wounded worse and killed faster than other blades. Even if the victim survived, a
shir
wound was more disabling than an ordinary wound and took longer to heal. Although the rebels had had to leave Koroll's
shir
where it fell, one of them was able to identify it as Baran's distinctive workmanship. The commander had evidently slain a rebel to get it. With all of the battles and chaos of the past year, the waterlords were growing increasingly nervous about how many
shir
were lost and unaccounted for these days. Now Mirabar saw what could happen when a Valdan got his hands on one, a Valdan who knew about Silerian water magic. It was lucky that the wound hadn't killed Tansen, and a miracle that the journey back into rebel territory hadn't finished him off.