Authors: Laura Resnick
Tansen had not seen her since the night he had nearly killed her—the night he crept into her bedchamber in Chandar to confront her with her betrayal of Josarian.
Since then, Elelar had accomplished precisely what he had sent her to Shaljir to accomplish: Kaynall had surrendered Sileria to native rule. Another man might think Tansen could execute Elelar with impunity now; certainly another woman thought so.
Mira...
No, he knew better than to think about one woman while preparing to face the other. He banished all thoughts of red hair and golden eyes, of fire and heat, of an earthy
shallah
girl blossoming into womanhood amidst war and bloodshed, amidst prophetic visions and flawed men.
Well, at least he
tried
to banish all such thoughts.
Zarien unwittingly helped by asking, as he gazed at the entrance to Elelar's palatial city dwelling, "
You
know a woman who lives
here
?"
"I have a broad acquaintance," Tansen told him.
The boy had not gawked, stumbled, and stammered in amazement and awe as Tansen had upon first entering Shaljir at a similar age. Of course, Zarien's thoughts were still partially fixed on the grisly heads decorating the Lion's Gate. Tansen also discovered, upon asking the boy a few questions, that Zarien had seen many more races and classes of people than Tansen had as a boy. The sea-bound never ventured ashore, but they mixed and mingled in the floating markets, transported passengers to and from the mainland, and anchored their boats in every bustling port of the nations of Sirkara.
"But I've never spoken to a
toren
," Zarien said, casting a doubtful expression at Tansen. "Well, except for Cheylan, and he doesn't really count, being a Guardian and all."
"Actually, I've never met this
toren
," Tansen said, regarding the grand entrance to the house and thinking briefly of Elelar's despised half-Valdani husband. "He may not even be here." Had Ronall abandoned Elelar, the rebel wife who had betrayed him, and gone to the mainland?
"I've never spoken to a
torena
, either," Zarien elaborated.
Tansen shrugged. "Just be polite."
The boy that perched outside Elelar's house as sentry asked their names and, upon hearing Tansen's, didn't even bother going inside to ask for instructions. The young city-dweller's eyes grew wide with astonishment, then glowed with admiration. He took them inside to another servant who, showing similar deference, escorted them into a large, elegant reception room.
Zarien looked at the departing servant, then studied their surroundings. "I guess," he concluded, "this woman likes you better than most others do."
Tansen smiled. "Perhaps this one just doesn't know me well."
"Oh, better than most, I think," came a familiar voice. It rippled through him like the aftershock of an earthquake as he whirled to face her.
"Where did you come from?" Zarien blurted, staring at Elelar.
Tansen was aware of his heart beating faster. "The
torena
's house has secret passages."
"And hidden doorways," Elelar added, studying Tansen's young companion with curiosity.
After an awkward pause, Tansen set an example for the boy by crossing his fists over his chest and bowing his head. "
Torena
," he murmured respectfully. "I hope I find you well."
"Oh!" Zarien glanced at Tansen, caught his eye, then crossed his fists and bowed his head. "Um..."
"Zarien, this is
Torena
Elelar shah Hasnari." When Zarien just stared mutely at the first
torena
of his acquaintance, Tansen looked at Elelar and said dryly, "He's honored."
Smiling politely, Elelar said, "The honor is mine..."
"Zarien," Tansen supplied.
"Of the sea-bound Lascari," Zarien added, blinking a little.
Elelar glanced back and forth between them. "Sea-bound?"
Zarien flushed. Tansen sighed. "It's a long story."
She lifted one dark brow. "Do you intend to tell it to me?"
Zarien looked at him inquisitively.
"Yes," Tansen admitted. "I think I'd better."
She looked faintly surprised, as well she should. He'd always been stingy with his trust, and she had nonetheless found a way to betray his bloodbrother. However, if Tansen, of all people, was about to disappear into the sea, Elelar needed to know.
Elelar's gaze dropped to where Tansen's torso was concealed by his threadbare tunic. "Your wound is healing?" she asked. The last time she had seen him, the
shir
wound in his side had been bleeding, and it soon thereafter came close to killing him.
Tansen exchanged a glance with Zarien. "Yes,
torena
."
"I'm pleased you are well," she said simply.
The door through which he had entered the room opened again. Two servants came in, bearing trays of food and drink.
"I'm sure you've had a long journey," Elelar said to Tansen, her polished manners failing to ease the palpable tension between them. "I hope you will honor my home, eat at my table, and sleep beneath my roof."
Zarien was already perking up at the sight of food, his nausea at the Lion's Gate forgotten for the moment. Tansen was grateful for the boy's presence, realizing that having a third party present—someone innocent of everything that had ever happened between him and Elelar—made this first meeting since Chandar easier than it would otherwise have been. It was still far from easy, though.
The last time he had seen her, he had held a sword to that delicate throat. He had craved the death of his own shame nearly as much as he lusted for vengeance. Now her long-lashed, sloe-eyed stare told him that she remembered those moments well; remembered everything they had said to each other in the shadowy light of that rage-filled night in her bedchamber at Chandar.
"We thank you for your generosity," Tansen said, nodding briefly to Zarien—who began a bold attack on the food tray. "But we'll stay elsewhere."
She nodded. "Santorell Palace, perhaps?"
Zarien laughed in surprise. Tansen blinked.
Elelar glided gracefully over to a chair and sat down, her elegant silk tunic molding itself to her body. "Things have changed a great deal since you were last in Shaljir," she pointed out.
He accepted a glass of water, flavored with a touch of lemon and honey, from a servant and then took a chair opposite Elelar. The servant left the room as Elelar told Tansen about changes in the city since the Valdani surrender.
"The Alliance is establishing a temporary government in Santorell Palace.
Toren
Varian of Adalian is now in residence there. So are a number of other important members of the Alliance from other districts." Elelar smiled slightly. "You're no longer an outlaw or rebel who must hide his identity in the capital city. You're a great hero, and people will want to know you've come to Shaljir."
He sighed, wishing—would he ever stop wishing?—that Josarian were here. "I don't want to put myself on display—"
"It doesn't matter what you want," she said gently. "And you know that." As if the silence which followed this statement wasn't already awkward enough, she added, "You've always known that."
Tansen glanced at Zarien, who was busy shoving all the shining baby onions to one remote corner of the food platter, and said, "I haven't got much time."
She looked at the boy, too. Zarien, chewing enthusiastically, stared back at both of them, his eyes wide and ingenuous in his dark, tattooed face.
Elelar ignored Tansen's assertion about time and said, "There are additional matters you must attend to."
"Such as?"
"The Alliance is... in dispute about the eventual distribution of power—"
"You mean they're squabbling like dogs over the scraps the Valdani have left behind."
He heard Zarien choke on surprised laughter at his rudeness, but he didn't take his gaze from Elelar's. Her expression, of course, gave nothing away.
"There are disagreements," she said tactfully. "Peculiar tales are floating freely into the city now."
"If those peculiar tales come from the mountains, then they're probably true," Tansen replied.
"Stories about you, Mirabar, Josarian's followers, and a bloodfeud against the Society proclaimed at Zilar."
"All true." He sipped his drink.
"Fighting in the mountains," she said. "Guardians against waterlords."
"Keep going."
"Visions at Dalishar. Pilgrims at Darshon."
"You're very well informed," Tansen observed. Unable to resist, he added, "As always."
"Some things never change," she said. "Others can never be mended."
"That is also true," he agreed, awash in his shame, in his neglected vengeance, with every breath that Elelar took.
"And you and I both know," she said, her voice dropping to a murmur, "what it is to live with regret. With deeds we can never erase."
"
I
know what it is to live with regret," he said. "You know what it is to get away with murder."
Elelar snapped, "I didn't murder—"
"His blood is—"
Zarien gasped. "She
is
the one!"
Tansen ground his teeth together, furious at himself for not thinking before he spoke. For forgetting the boy's presence for even a moment. He glanced at Elelar, whose sudden pallor belied her rigidly controlled expression, then said to Zarien, "Are you done eating?"
The answer was plainly
no
, but the boy took the hint. Staring at them both with open curiosity, he rose to his feet and said, "Uh, maybe I should go down to the port now?"
"No, not alone," Tansen said absently.
Elelar added, "The port is really a mess right now. These earthquakes we've been having..."
"Please," Zarien said to Tansen. "I can smell the sea from here."
"Later."
Zarien sounded exasperated as he insisted, "I won't get lost."
"Not alone," Tansen repeated.
Elelar rose to her feet, catching Tansen off guard. He rose politely, but she was already halfway across the room. "A servant can take him," she said, her voice distantly gracious. She opened the door, called for a servant, and instructed Teyaban, the young man who entered the room, to take Zarien to the port and later escort him back here.
"Satisfied?" Zarien asked Tansen.
"Don't leave Teyaban's side," Tansen instructed Zarien.
"Don't worry. Even if I get separated from him, I'll find you again." Zarien picked his oar up off the floor. "I've got
this
, after all."
As Elelar gave the boy a puzzled look, Tansen said, "Be back before dark. The streets are—"
"Unsafe at night," Zarien said on a sigh. "Yes, yes, you've mentioned that. A few times." He glanced doubtfully at the
torena
, then back at Tansen. "So... I'll make arrangements, yes?"
"Yes," Tansen agreed.
Zarien came very close to him, hesitated, and then stood on his toes to whisper into Tansen's ear, "And you won't...
do
anything, will you?"
"Do anything?" Tansen repeated, not bothering to whisper, too.
"You know," Zarien whispered again.
"No," Tansen replied irritably, "I don't know."
Exasperated, Zarien gave up whispering. "What the
sirana
wants."
"What the
sir
—" Tansen was surprised into a rude snort. "No. Now will you just go? Quietly. Immediately. Without another word."
Zarien shrugged, as if disclaiming all responsibility for Tansen, and headed toward the door. It was nearly shut behind him when he opened it again, almost hitting Elelar with it in the process, to say, "It was, um, a great honor to meet you,
torena
."
"Yes, I can tell," she said dryly. "I'm sure we'll have the pleasure again."
Zarien gazed at her for a moment, as if contemplating a reply to this remark, then gave up and left.
Now that they were alone, Elelar turned to face Tansen. "So," she said, getting right to the point, "Mirabar wants you to kill me?"
Dar curse that boy.
"That can hardly come as a surprise to you,
torena
."
"No," she admitted, "it doesn't." She came closer. Close enough for him to smell her scented skin. "Where are your swords?"
"I'm not going to do it, Elelar," he said tersely. "And you know I'm not. So let's just—"
"That's good," she murmured, turning away from him. She walked to the empty fireplace and stared pensively at its charred stones. "I didn't think you would, but that's good, all the same."