The White Dragon (100 page)

"
Torena
Chasimar was a voluntary victim, because she loved Zimran," Yenibar explained. "Even after
Toren
Porsall paid the ransom, the
torena
didn't want to come home. She was so happy living with Zimran in the mountains."

"That must have annoyed the
toren
," Ronall guessed.

"He didn't know. He just thought Josarian was cheating him. Thwarting him." She giggled a little. "But Josarian was trying to convince
Torena
Chasimar to go home, and she was refusing."

"War is terrible," Ronall said solemnly.
 

"And Zimran was a good lover."

"The
torena
told you that?"

"No. I knew him, too."

"I see. He was a busy man."
 

Yenibar shrugged. "It's not as if he had ever promised to be faithful to
Torena
Chasimar."

"No, I suppose not." Ronall and Elelar had, in their marriage vows, promised to be faithful to each other, and neither of them had ever done so, so who was he to judge anyone? "So now Chasimar misses Zimran."

"Well, I think being here makes it harder for her," Yenibar said. "Even though we really had no other choice."

Ronall pressed himself into her stroking hand and asked, with diminishing interest, "Why does being here make it harder for her?"

"Because of
Torena
Elelar," she replied absently, shifting her hips closer to his. "It reminds Chasimar of... Mmmm..." She sighed.

"Reminds her of what?" he whispered.

"Of how she lost him."

"To Tansen."

"No. To..." She suddenly stopped speaking and went stiff.
 

He noticed. "To..." he prodded.

The girl kissed him with as much enthusiasm as if he'd suddenly promised her a sack of gold.
 

Ronall wasn't fooled. He pushed her away and said, "Tell me."

Yenibar shook her head. "Ronall, let's just—"

He took her wrists in a punishing grip and rolled on top of her. The liquor fired his sudden shift to restless anger. "
What?
"

She looked wide-eyed and nervous in the flickering light. "She lost Zimran to
Torena
Elelar, and it wounded her. Now we are here, in Elelar's home, and
Torena
Chasimar keeps thinking about it." When he just stared down at her in blank astonishment, she added, "I mean no disrespect,
toren
."

"You're saying that Elelar and Zimran..."
 

"They loved each other," said the girl. "It was well known."

"Elelar let it be known that she was sleeping with a
shallah
?" Ronall said doubtfully. He didn't bother asking about the assertion that Elelar had
loved
Zimran, which he doubted even more.

"They lived openly together near the village of Chandar."

Ronall rolled away, losing all interest in the girl. "Why?" he wondered.

Yenibar reached for him tentatively. "Because Zimran was a special man."

"Zimran was close to Josarian," Ronall mused, staring into the darkness. "He was someone Josarian trusted." Someone in a position to betray Josarian. "Fires of Dar," he murmured, starting to remember Elelar's homecoming that night in Shaljir. The errand she had sent him on—getting a Society assassin to meet her in secret right after Josarian's death. "Oh... sweet, merciful, bloodstained gods."

"
Toren
?"

He didn't know how it all fit together. He'd probably never know. But Elelar was somehow involved in Josarian's death. He knew her well enough to know that. There was no such thing as coincidence where his scheming wife was concerned. Zimran had loved Elelar and betrayed Josarian. Elelar had needed so much power over Zimran that she, a
torena
, had lived openly with a
shallah
, letting him think she loved him that much. What could she have needed so much influence for... except convincing him to betray the Firebringer?
 

And who in all of Sileria was powerful and cunning enough to have convinced Elelar, with her vehement hatred of the Valdani, to sacrifice Josarian? Who except...

"
Kiloran
," Ronall concluded, feeling sick.

"Yes, he's the one who killed Josarian, but Zim—"

"Tell me," Ronall said quickly, pushing her hands away from him. "Think hard. Have you ever heard of an assassin named..." He tried to focus, tried to remember. "Searlon?"

"Yes," she said, surprised. "Everyone has heard of Sear—"

Ronall sat up. "Who's his master?"

"You know,
toren
." She looked confused. "You just said it: Kiloran."

He slumped over on the bed. "Don't touch me," he snapped a moment later. "I think I'm going to throw up."

"What's wrong?" Yenibar asked.

"Dar have mercy," he groaned, feeling the room spin. "I hate my wife." What a fool he had been to marry her! To hope for her love—to long for it even now. How had he ever expected to master Elelar when the Firebringer himself couldn't do it?
 

"I hate my life," Ronall said with feeling. Less than a full day in Elelar's house, and he was already back to fervently wishing someone would just kill him and get it over with.
 

"I'm leaving this place," he announced blearily. "I'm leaving as soon as I wake up. You and Chasimar will have to manage for yourselves here until Elelar shows up. I can't stay here."

"I... I'm sorry, Ronall."

"Oh, don't even bother," he said morosely. "It's hardly the worst news I've had this year."

"Can I get you something?" Yenibar asked, sliding off the bed.

"Go see if there's another bottle of that strawberry wine somewhere."

Ronall lay upon the bed and closed his eyes as she left the room. "I wish," he said to the four walls and empty silence, "that my ancestors had never left Valda."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

At the point of a sword, love and friendship

become just another point of view.

      
      
      
      
      
—Valdani Proverb

It was late. Elelar waited in a shadowed hallway of her home, pacing slowly outside of the bedchamber to which Teyaban had brought Zarien before going to Santorell Palace to inform her and Tansen that something had gone terribly wrong in the Bay of Shaljir today. After rowing out to the floating market, Zarien had returned to shore in a fiercely destructive mood, according to Teyaban. Angry, bitter, hostile, raging without making much sense, fighting tears, and altogether looking as if the world was about to end.

Well, maybe it is.

Elelar banished the fatalistic thought as soon as it came to her. The Guardians flowing into Shaljir believed profoundly in Mirabar's visions. A new leader was coming, they said, a ruler of great potential, the first Yahrdan in a thousand years... If Mirabar could just find him—and, oh, yes, keep the Society from slaughtering him.
 

If he's such a great leader, why doesn't he step forward? Why don't we already know who he is? And just how young is he?

Elelar sighed and continued pacing, casting a doubtful glance at the door to Zarien's bedchamber. Tansen had been in there with him for a long time. Elelar went to the door and pressed her ear against it, listening. She heard nothing. Which was all she had heard the other times she had done this while waiting for Tansen to come out and tell her what was wrong.

The sea king.

Imagine that. Tansen, embracing some goddess—much as his own bloodbrother had done at Darshon—and becoming the prophesied leader of the scattered sea-born folk of Sileria.
 

In truth, it made no sense to Elelar. Tansen's place was in the mountains. All his strength and influence were needed to lead the
shallaheen
and to destroy the Society. Though he himself scarcely knew it, he was loved, feared, and respected in the mountains; not with the same religious fervor as the Firebringer, but in an deep and enduring way. During the rebellion, Elelar had spent enough time among the
shallaheen
to know that.

The sea-born folk knew his name, knew his deeds, and no doubt regarded him with the same legendary awe as the city-dwellers and the lowlanders did. But it was hard to believe that his true destiny was at sea—or even inside the walls of Shaljir. With Josarian dead, the
shallaheen
needed Tansen too much to part with him. Surely Dar could see that? Surely Sharifar, this sea spirit in search of a consort, could understand that?

Elelar walked away from the bedchamber door and continued pacing the hallway, thinking idly while she waited.

So Tansen didn't want Mirabar to kill her? Elelar almost sneered. So Tansen worried about blood on that razor-tongued girl's hands?
 

So Tansen,
Elelar thought with an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy,
is in love?
 

He wasn't just protecting Mirabar. Elelar could tell. She knew too much about men to mistake the signs: He was protecting
himself
when he protected Mirabar—she had become that important to him.
 

Elelar wondered if Mirabar felt the same way. Tansen wasn't giving any hints, either way, which didn't surprise Elelar. Regardless of all he had seen and done in his life, Tansen was still a
shallah,
and they had very strict views about a woman's honor. Short of announcing his intention to marry Mirabar (or at least to offer a good bride price for her), there was relatively little Tansen could say about his interest in an unmarried young woman without dishonoring her, according to the rigid customs of the
shallaheen.

And marriage is probably out of the question, since he's about to go seduce a sea goddess—or let one seduce him.

Elelar turned when she heard light footsteps behind her.

"Faradar," she said, addressing her personal maid, a young woman who knew many of her secrets—though certainly not all—and who had endured countless challenges with her during the past few years.

"They're asking in the kitchen,
torena
," Faradar said, glancing at the door at she spoke softly. "Do you want an evening meal, and how many guests will there be?"

Elelar shook her head. "I don't know. Tell them to put out some cold food and just leave it there."

"Do you know yet why the boy—"

"No. I've been waiting here since we returned to the house."

"They've been in there for a long time," Faradar mused, staring at the door. "The
siran
seemed very worried about him when you returned to the house together."

"Yes," Elelar agreed. Tansen's concern for Zarien was something he couldn't hide, not even from the servants.

"The
siran
loves that boy," Faradar stated plainly.

"Yes," Elelar said slowly, only now realizing what had been obvious from the moment Zarien had first arrived here with Tansen. "He does."

"Do you think—"

They turned when the door clicked open. Tansen came out, his lean face drawn and sad, and closed the door behind him.

"Well?" Elelar asked.

"His family is dead," Tansen's voice was soft. "Most of his clan. He... It's come as a terrible shock to him."