The White Dragon (47 page)

Chapter Eighteen

If you look for trouble, you will surely find it.

      
      
      
      
      
—Silerian Proverb

Zarien's
stahra
quivered slightly, letting him know which way to go when he came to a new intersection on the steep, rocky, narrow mountain path.
 

Every time it did that, he practically jumped out of his skin. Yes, the metal-tipped oar was given to him by Sharifar herself and had led him into the current which carried him to safety after she had ordered him to go ashore... But he'd had no
idea!
It was enchanted—indeed, there were moments when it almost seemed alive.

Sneaking away from the throng of people at the caves of Dalishar hadn't been easy, and he'd had to wait until long after Tansen's departure to make his escape unnoticed. That meant that he'd soon realized he had no idea which way Tansen had gone. As the sky grew dark, Zarien recalled Sharifar's words—
follow him until you cannot
—and began to fear he'd been hasty in his decision and foolish in his actions. He certainly seemed to have reached the "cannot" moment of his quest, and so he decided to return to Dalishar's caves.

It was when he tried to turn back that the
stahra
suddenly quivered with life for the first time, trembling like an animal and pulling like a strong wind against taut sails. Startled, he'd yelped and dropped it.

It lay absolutely still on the ground, looking quite ordinary while he stared at it for so long that his eyes started to ache. When he finally found the courage to pick it up again... nothing happened.

Until, that is, he once again tried to turn back.
 

This time, when it trembled and tugged, he realized what it meant. This time he understood.

Stay in the current you have found.
 

He'd been right, after all! He was indeed meant to follow Tansen when the warrior left Dalishar. The gods were helping him. Just as well, considering how difficult Tansen was being.

Let it carry you.

So he did. Zarien continued his pursuit, confident now. Each time he chose the wrong direction, the
stahra
led him the right way. He had no idea where Tansen was or how long it would take to catch up to him—
shallaheen
walked a lot faster than he did—but he had no doubt that he would eventually find him.

Are all stahra enchanted?
Tansen had asked him.

It had seemed a strange question at the time. Now he wondered how Tansen knew. Did the sea king have instincts that he hadn't yet recognized as a sign of his destiny, or had Tansen simply seen the
stahra
do something which Zarien hadn't?

On his own again now, Zarien was very hungry. Despite their taste for cooked flesh, the mountain rebels enjoyed good food. It was plentiful, too. Tansen had explained this was because Josarian had convinced Silerians to stop letting the Valdani take most of it. Now Zarien missed the food at Dalishar. He didn't enjoy returning to a diet of hastily-gathered wild things.

Sister Rahilar's treatment had helped his feet, but by sunset of his second full day in pursuit of Tansen, they hurt like all the Fires. He was pleased that some of the blisters had become calluses, but very sorry that some of the sores were worse than ever. He was also pleased that the
stahra
now led him on an ever-descending trail into a lush, wooded valley. This was easier on his abused body than those high mountain trails which the
shallaheen
scrambled over as if pushed by a good wind in calm waters.

However, at least the other minor pains he'd acquired during his sojourn on the dryland were improving. The blisters on his burned hand, acquired while retrieving the
stahra
from the Guardians' fire, were withering now. The cold burning sensation caused by Najdan's
shir
pressed against his throat was fading.

Drylanders.

It was no wonder, he thought, that the Lascari chose, long ago, to become sea-bound.
 

He approached a thick grove of olive trees, thinking perhaps it was time to stop for the evening. The tortured twisting of the trees' ancient branches looked eerie in the dim light of the dramatic sunset; but he could tell that there was water in the grove, and he was both thirsty and sticky from the day's exertion. He brushed past a gnarled tree with dull green leaves and considered how pleasant it would be to bathe his stinging feet in the cool—

"Umph!" He grunted in surprise as the
stahra
suddenly leapt out of his hand.

Zarien's eyes flew wide and a gasp caught in his throat when the weapon leaped towards an assassin who appeared out of nowhere, his dark face fierce, his two
yahr
swinging—

"Galian?" Zarien said in surprise.

Impervious to Galian's blows, the
stahra
slapped the black-clad
shallah
so hard he fell down and lay there without moving.

"
Zarien?"

He heard Tansen's incredulous voice and whirled to face him. Like Galian, Tansen was wearing the black clothes and red
jashar
of an assassin. He looked sleek and deadly. The surprised expression on his face changed to an angry scowl. Zarien suddenly realized he should have prepared in advance for this moment. Smooth explanations would clearly be needed to appease Tansen. Instead, Zarien's mouth just worked silently as he glanced from Tansen, to the now quiescent
stahra
, to Galian—whose prone body was alarmingly still—back to Tansen.

"Um..."

Tansen looked at the
stahra,
then back at Zarien. "So now you know?"

"Yes. You knew. I didn't understand... when you... I... " His voice sounded thin and breathless in his own ears. "I..."

"What in the Fires are you doing here?" Tansen demanded sharply.

Zarien pointed at Galian. "Is he all right?"

Radyan now appeared, as did three other men. All clad in black, two of them wearing the other two red
jashareen
Tansen had taken from the assassins he'd slain on the path to Dalishar. Radyan bent over Galian's body and spoke his name. He was answered by a groan.

Radyan looked up. "Just stunned."

"Why are you all disguised as assassins?" Zarien asked.

"Ohhhh." Galian opened his eyes and put a hand to his face. "What happened?"

"Counter attack," Radyan said. "By an oar."

"An
oar?
" Galian repeated, trying to lift his head.

"Never happened before?" Radyan asked. "No oar wars in your clan's past?"

"An oar?" Galian repeated. With Radyan's help, he succeeded in lifting his head. "
Zarien
?"

"And Zarien's oar," Radyan said.

"It's a
stahra
," Zarien said, uneasy with the extremely displeased way Tansen was looking at him.

"It protects the boy," Tansen explained.

"Does that mean we can't kill him?" Galian asked with a disappointed glower.

"
I
didn't make it hit you," Zarien insisted.

"I suppose it just did that by itself," Galian snapped.

"It did!"

"Wish
I
had one of those," Radyan murmured.

"He's telling the truth," Tansen said.

"You see?" Zarien said to the others.

"He's also," Tansen continued, "in so much trouble, I don't think even that
stahra
is going to be able to protect him."

"Now wait a moment," Zarien said, alarmed.

Tansen took his arm in a grip of steel and said to the others, "Would you excuse us?"
 

"I had to follow you!" Zarien protested as Tansen dragged him away with more haste than dignity.

"What did I tell you?" Tansen snapped. "Didn't I tell you to stay at—"

"Well, Sharifar told me differently. I am to stay close to you," Zarien argued, tripping as Tansen tugged him through the trees and beyond the hearing of the others.

"Oh, for the love of Dar." Tansen released his arm and faced him, his expression radiating exasperation. "I evidently haven't made this clear enough yet: For your own safety, you are to do exactly as I tell you at all times."

The cold fury in Tansen's voice upset him. "It is the will of the goddess that I—"

"No matter what."

"—follow you now!"

"You have no business disobeying my orders!"

"She told me so in that—that—" He made a vague gesture.

"Do you think I give you orders for the pleasure of hearing myself talk?"

"—that strange fire in the cave."

"Do you think I'm being
whimsical
when I tell you to wait for me in safety?" Tansen demanded.

"The fire that your friends say is sacred."

"Do you think you have the right to risk my men's safety the way you just did?"

"Ask Mirabar if you don't believe me!" Zarien said defensively.

"What do you suppose the people at Dalishar are doing right now? What if they have to neglect their duties to go in search of
you
?"

 
"Ask Cheylan. They saw it, too. They were there. Ask them, if you don't believe me!"

"I believe you." Tansen looked up at the darkening sky. "I believe you," he repeated, evidently trying to master his temper.

"Then why can't I—"

"Because what we're about to do is very dangerous."

"I don't mean to—"

"And we're in territory ruled by an enemy."

"—fight assassins. I just want to—"

"Do you know what that means?" Tansen prodded.

"—stay close to..." Zarien paused. "Um. I'm not sure. What does that mean?"

"Waterlords are not like other men," Tansen said.
 

"I know that, but—"

"I couldn't protect Josarian from Kiloran."

"Surely if I—"

"And I doubt I can protect you from Wyldon."

"Who?"

"The waterlord we've come to... harass." Tansen nodded in the direction of the colorfully streaked sunset. "He lives a short trek that way." He added significantly, "At our pace, not yours."

"I'm getting faster," Zarien said. "I caught up to you, didn't I?"
 

"We stopped today to ambush some of Wyldon's assassins."

"Oh." Zarien was relieved he hadn't stumbled across the bodies. "I guess you didn't fight them right there on the path this time."

"No, we were obliged to deviate," Tansen said with a touch of sarcasm.

"I'll keep up w—"

"Wyldon is a waterlord. A sorcerer. Much less powerful than Kiloran, true, but still not the sort of opponent I was trained to face. Not someone I can protect y—"

"Then maybe you shouldn't be here, either," Zarien said, suddenly worried.

"It's necessary."

"You can come back later," he urged. "Who knows what power Sharifar might grant you in her embrace, what protec—"

"This has to be done
now
, Zarien." Tansen sighed and looked at the ground. "How did you track us, anyhow?"

"The
stahra
led me."

Tansen's head jerked up and a look of surprise washed across his face. "I see."