The White Dragon (86 page)

No, he never intended to forget again.

Indeed, Kiloran thought his own recent conduct at Emeldar proved just how thoroughly he had banished impetuosity and now governed his passions. He was convinced the greatest self-control he'd ever exerted in his life was that day in Josarian's abandoned village when Baran tried everything but physical violence to goad him into an attack.

The temptation to kill that mad, embittered agitator became even greater when Kiloran realized that Baran's surprisingly changed appearance was the result of illness. A serious one, Kiloran suspected. Baran, a big and agile man, was physically weakened now. Meriten, who was rather small and certainly no warrior, had managed to choke him half to death before Baran's assassin came to his rescue. How soon before Baran's sorcery weakened, too? Perhaps it already had. What a temptation it had been to try to find out right then and there.

Baran ill... Perhaps even dying? It was such a pleasing prospect, it almost made Kiloran feel young again.

If Baran was weak, vulnerable, and vanquishable at long last...
 

To ambush Baran. To take back the Idalar River at last. To destroy and humiliate him. To pull the moat at Belitar right up over the ancient ruins there and drown Baran in his own bed one night... Oh, yes, these were immensely pleasing thoughts.

However, when the rage Kiloran had felt in Emeldar cooled into clear-headed reason, he realized that, after all these years, the problem of Baran might soon simply solve itself. Kiloran was a practical man, and he much preferred the possibility of Baran dying quietly of a wasting disease to the cumbersome reality of expending even more of his own energy trying to destroy the mad waterlord after their new truce ended—as it unquestionably would once their enemies were defeated and dead.

Yes, Kiloran had learned his lesson well. His fury over Baran's behavior at Emeldar that day must not cloud his judgment or incite him to impetuous acts. Even now, Searlon was attempting to learn just how ill Baran really was. If Baran was going to die soon on his own, if patience was all that was needed to finally defeat him, Kiloran could wait. After all these years, to win with no effort would be the sweetest victory of all.

Meanwhile, he would let Baran make himself useful. After all, bringing Shaljir to its knees would indeed be easier if he had Baran's help in holding back the Idalar River. And if Baran killed Mirabar, then that was one less task Kiloran must accomplish.

Another long, piercing scream of pain and anguish floated through the watery halls and echoed around the palace.
 

It had been going on since last night, and Kiloran, whose head was starting to throb, had had enough of it.

When he tried hard enough, he could hear the Firebringer's perpetual agony through the barrier of death. The extraordinary means of Josarian's demise, the powerful sorcery needed to defeat him, ensured that the two of them were linked for the rest of Kiloran's life. That was the way of the White Dragon. Fortunately, this mystical bond rarely intruded on Kiloran's thoughts. Whereas it was becoming impossible to ignore the Guardian's howls of pain. Feeling his temper fray, Kiloran sent for Dyshon, the assassin who was interrogating the young woman.

"If she hasn't talked by now," Kiloran advised Dyshon, when he appeared, "then she knows nothing."

Dyshon looked tired and a little gray-faced. Well, interrogation was unpleasant business.
 

Dyshon asked, "You want me to kill her,
siran?
"

"Yes. There's no point in persisting."

"So we're going to question the older one?"

Kiloran nodded. "Yes, it's time to revive her."

"I regret,
siran
," Dyshon said, "that I have been unable to make the younger prisoner useful to you."

Kiloran shook his head. "Not your fault, Dyshon. If the woman knows nothing, then she cannot be made to tell anything." He sighed. "It's a pity, though. Only two Guardians captured, and one clearly useless."

"With respect,
siran
, perhaps it was a mistake to entrust the capture to another waterlord's assassins."

"Ah, mistakes, they are so easily made," Kiloran replied philosophically. "Geriden assured me he and his men could handle it. And despite coming under attack while engaged in their ambush, his men did manage to bring back two Guardians, which was the minimum number I requested."

"Has there been any word about the hunt for Mirabar?"

"Not yet," said Kiloran. "But I remain hopeful."

The battle at Niran had, unfortunately, turned into a chaotic bloodbath. Just when Geriden and his assassins felt confident of killing all but four Guardians and hauling away their captives without interference, Mirabar and an unspecified number of men—
Najdan among them, no doubt,
Kiloran thought with a twinge of fury—had attacked the ambushers. Consequently, Geriden had lost half the men he'd taken to Niran, and only two Guardians had been brought to Kandahar. One of Geriden's assassins had seen Mirabar, illuminated in the dark night by her own deadly fire; her demonic appearance was unmistakable. It was lucky the assassin had been prudent enough to retreat and remain alive, rather than attacking and dying as others had done, or Kiloran might never have known exactly what happened that night.

Or that Mirabar had, quite unexpectedly, been in the region. Far from Tansen, whose last known location was Zilar. Far from Dalishar, which was virtually impregnable.

Geriden hadn't thought to track Mirabar at the time, a stupid mistake which ensured he received a blistering verbal attack from Kiloran upon arriving at Kandahar. The mediocrity of Geriden's sorcery was only
one
reason he remained such a minor waterlord.
 

Kiloran knew with regret that it was almost certainly too late to track Mirabar now. Najdan would understand the risks of her being seen, and he'd have ensured her quick disappearance after the battle. However, one must try. So Kiloran had assigned every assassin he could spare to go search for her.

Mirabar's surprise appearance on Mount Niran led to a number of questions, all of them still unanswered. Was she there that night by chance or intent? Had someone betrayed Kiloran and warned Mirabar of his plans? Although this was a disturbing possibility which must be investigated, Kiloran was at least convinced that the Guardians themselves had not been warned. They were completely unprepared for such an assault, according to Geriden, and the ambush would have gone exactly as planned if not for Mirabar's arrival. And if Mirabar was there that night by chance, then what had brought her to Mount Niran
now?
What could have been worth such a risk to her safety?

Kiloran hoped the older Guardian, the one they hadn't yet begun to interrogate, had some answers. In any event, she promised to be more rewarding than the young one. Whereas the young one was relatively helpless, the old one's fire sorcery was so powerful that the assassins had only been able to capture and transport her by keeping her unconscious.

Such a powerful elder was likely to know the things Kiloran wanted to know, though extracting the information would be a challenge, one which would require his personal attention. Here at Kandahar, Kiloran used potions acquired from the Sisterhood to keep her weak and befuddled until such time as it was obvious—as it now was—that they'd have to risk reviving her.
 

"Yes," Kiloran concluded, nodding to Dyshon. "Let's begin questioning her."

"They've taken the two Guardians to Kandahar," Najdan advised Mirabar. "We followed them as far as we could." He took a breath and concluded quietly, "I regret,
sirana
, that I cannot retrieve Tashinar from Kiloran's lair. She is lost."

Mirabar was vaguely aware of the way Basimar gasped at Najdan's statement. She herself felt the words—
she is lost
—like blows, but at least they were real. At least she knew.

Tashinar is lost.

Each word was a blow that drove Mirabar to her knees.

"Tashinar," she murmured brokenly, too shocked at first to feel the full weight of her grief.

"You cannot go after her," Najdan said. "You must accept that."

Once upon a time, Mirabar had invaded Kiloran's underwater palace and saved Tansen's life; probably Josarian's, too, that fateful night. She couldn't do so again, though. Even now, as she started weeping for Tashinar, Najdan was telling her that Kiloran, aware that she'd been at Mount Niran, already had assassins prowling the mountains in search of her. It was very unlikely she could reach Kandahar alive, and quite certain that Kiloran would kill her there if she did.

Mirabar heard the words, understood the danger, and recognized her duty. But she could only collapse facedown onto the ground and wail, "
Tashinar!
"

Now she felt it. Now it assaulted her in hot waves of anguish.
 

"We must leave immediately,
sirana
," Najdan said. "Or else we'll become trapped here."

"No," she cried. "No! No! No!"

"When they learn you're here," Najdan said urgently, trying to pull her up, "they'll make it impossible for you to leave."

She shoved him away. Her fingers clutched fistfuls of dirt as she lay on the ground. "
Tashinar... No!"
In Kiloran's keeping. In Kiloran's lair. In the grip of Kiloran's cruelty.

"You will be cut off from everyone else," Najdan warned, raising his voice. "A prisoner of this Sanctuary."

He tugged on her, forcing her to rise to her knees.
 

"Go back for her!" she wailed. "Get her!"

"No."

"You can get her!" Mirabar hit the assassin. "You know Kandahar. You know Kiloran's secrets! Go back! Get her!" She hit him harder.

Najdan's face was lined and gray. His eyes glittered darkly. "I can't. No one can."

"
Nooooo..."

"We must go now," he insisted.

He tried to drag her to her feet. She lashed out in blind, animal pain, fire shimmering over her skin, burning him so he'd release her. She heard him draw a sharp breath as he dropped her.

Then Haydar's frightened voice: "Najdan!"

"It's all right," he said. "She won't hurt me."

"She just did!"

"Go get ready," he ordered. "All of you. We're leaving
now
."

"Tashinar..." Mirabar sobbed.

Najdan knelt beside her again. "We will avenge her," he promised.

"I don't want vengeance," she wept. "I want Tashinar!"

His hands were gentler now. He pulled her upright, pushed her hair off her face, and then embraced her. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Tansen, followed by Zarien, entered the old Kintish temple in Zilar early in the morning, meaning to attend to a few final details before he departed for Shaljir. He looked questioningly at Radyan, who awaited him there, wondering what could have put such a big grin on his face.

"You'll never guess," Radyan said, "who's brought the latest messages from Dalishar."

Tansen glanced in the direction Radyan indicated and saw a friend emerge from the shadows. "Emelen!"