He had also never before experienced the acute embarrassment he felt over her amusement at his rustic habits or clumsy infatuation. He was so much less than she was in every way. For the first time in his life, he was embarrassed that he was ignorant and uneducated; her pity humiliated him and her impatience shamed him.
He was a shallah and she was a torena. Even worse, he was still just a boy, and she was already a woman.
She sent him and Armian to the same inn, in the oldest section of the city, where he would lead Josarian nine years later. The keeper was not only in the Alliance, he was also privy to an astonishing secret hidden beneath the streets of the city: the survival of the Beyah-Olvari.
"How did you find out about them?" Josarian asked.
"Armian killed a beggar. The Valdani don't approve of Silerians committing murder in broad daylight in the streets of Shaljir. They sealed off the gates and started searching the city for us, not even realizing who Armian was. So Elelar hid us underground."
"Why in the Fires did he kill a beggar?"
Tansen sought his face in the dark. "Because Armian was an assassin, and the beggar annoyed him."
Gaborian was too ill to travel and Armian's mission had already been jeopardized once by betrayal, so Elelar decided to personally escort the assassin and the mountain boy to Kiloran. She didn't know where the waterlord was, but then, as now, she had ways of finding him.
"Are you telling me that Kiloran is part of this Alliance?"
"Yes."
It took them many days to find Kiloran. Emperor Jarell was devoting considerable energy that year to his war on the Society, and the waterlord was constantly on the move. During that time, Tansen discovered that Armian's method of extracting information from people was not dissimilar to the Valdani's. Tansen watched his idol enact scenes of ruthless brutality unlike anything he'd ever seen, and though he diligently applied himself to the fighting techniques Armian had decided to teach him, something inside of him started boiling over with revulsion. "Above all, I started to see the Society through her eyes," he said.
"Elelar?"
"Yes."
Educated, articulate, and shrewd beyond her years, Elelar knew the Alliance needed to continue cultivating the Society because they were the strongest faction in Sileria; but she considered them almost as bad as the Valdani. Who starved the cities of water when tribute didn't arrive on time or wasn't deemed generous enough? Who ruled the mountains through terror and violence? Who controlled the toreni with abduction, ransom demands, and murder? Who had destroyed Sileria's last Yahrdan? Who had already killed more shallaheen than the Valdani ever would?
"Then why was she allied to them?" Josarian asked.
"For the same reason you will be," Tansen said, "now that you've promised to join the Alliance."
"You didn't tell me—"
"We cannot fight the Valdani without the Society. She knew it then, I know it now. You must understand it." He leaned forward. "When I first sought you, I thought only of keeping you alive to torment the Valdani. When I swore a bloodfeud with you, I thought only of making the torment last beyond our deaths. But now I have seen how men follow you, believe in you, risk everything to join your fight."
"All men want what I want, Tan," said Josarian. "To live freely and in peace, and to be able to feed their families. That's all. It's not so much, but the Valdani have denied it to us for too long."
"I don't think any man picks up a weapon just because he wants food and peace," said Tansen. "He does it because something or someone has inspired him to risk killing and dying. Something as simple as fear or hatred, or something as complex as a dream or a great man's leadership."
"I am no great man," Josarian said quietly. "I'm an uneducated mountain peasant who misses his wife and who can never go home again."
"You've changed lives all over the district of Cavasar. You've convinced frightened men to follow you, and clannish villagers to put aside their differences for a common cause. You've begun a rebellion in an utterly defeated nation by challenging the most powerful empire the world has ever known." He smiled wryly. "Like it or not, you're a great man."
"A heavy responsibility," Josarian said without enthusiasm. "I think I preferred being an outlaw."
"Before this thing is through, the Valdani will wish you had stayed a mere outlaw."
Returning to the point, Josarian said, "If he kills you, I will not be Kiloran's ally."
"I know," Tansen said. "But Elelar doesn't know that, and I need her help to find him."
"You think he will kill you, don't you?" Josarian prodded.
He smothered his fear. "I think he wants very much to kill me."
"Then why—"
"We've been all through this before. I'm not going back into exile. I'm not going into hiding. And I don't feel like spending the rest of my life battling assassins—who might very well start killing my friends and companions when they find it too hard to kill me." His gaze rested briefly on the swords lying beside him. "I will face him as a man, and one way or another, this thing between us will be settled."
Josarian sighed, nodding. "Then you'd better tell me why he wants you dead."
"Yes."
After nearly a twin-moon of searching, Armian, Tansen, and Elelar found Kiloran—or rather, he found them, responding to Elelar's signals.
"He was..." Tansen made a vague gesture. "Power radiated from him the way heat radiates from a fire. His eyes were cold and lifeless, like a snake's. The Moorlanders had chosen the right envoy; Kiloran would have trusted no other. He treated Armian with affection, but there was no warmth in him. Me... I was treated courteously because Armian required it."
"And Elelar?"
He smiled. "Oh, I would have pitied the man who failed to show her proper respect, even then."
"Did Kiloran approve of the Moorlanders' proposal?"
"He was suspicious at first, as was his nature. In time, though, he grew enthusiastic about it." Tansen's hands curled into fists as he recalled, "He saw what Armian saw, what I had failed to understand. The Moorlanders would give their support to the Society, not to Sileria, to fight the Valdani. After the Emperor was beaten here and the Moorlanders withdrew to finish the war on the mainland, all power in Sileria would be left in the hands of the Society."
"With Kiloran in charge of the whole country," Josarian guessed, watching Tansen intently.
"And with Armian as his successor. They... were very pleased at the prospect."
"Elelar had no objections?"
"Elelar and the Alliance believed the Valdani were the only enemies that mattered. All other problems and enmities could wait until the day the Valdani were finally gone."
"So the Alliance and the Honored Society both supported the plan and intended to make a pact with the Moorlanders?"
"Yes. When it was approved, Armian was to travel to the southern coast to meet a Moorlander ship and give the Society's answer. Elelar accompanied him, to speak for the Alliance. I went with him, too, because..." The shame of it burned him like fire as he forced himself to confess, "It was my duty. I was his bloodpact son."
"Darfire! You're Armian's bloodson?"
"Yes. We had sworn the bloodpact before reaching Shaljir." He opened his left hand and traced another familiar scar.
Clearly stunned, Josarian said, "The torena said... you ruined everything, you destroyed Sileria's future." He leaned forward, perhaps already knowing the answer as he asked, "How?"
"I murdered Armian."
Tansen tried to look away from the intensity of his brother's gaze, apparent even in the dark, but he couldn't. Josarian said nothing, made no movement or gesture. He just stared. Tansen's lungs strained for air in the cool mountain night.
"I killed my own bloodfather, Josarian. You know that there are few worse crimes." His voice was so tight he had to force it out of his throat. "And I killed the man who... I think he may really have been the Firebringer."
"Why did you do it?" Josarian whispered at last.
&nb
sp; "I saw... I saw another thousand years of slavery for us, under the heaviest yoke of all. This pact excluded all the other peoples of Sileria. The war wouldn't free this island for Silerian rule once the Valdani were driven out." Shame flooded his veins as he tried to explain his unspeakable act of betrayal. "The Society, led by Kiloran and Armian, would rule Sileria—more harshly than the Valdani or any other conqueror ever has."
"We would..." Josarian cleared his throat and sat back. "We would never be free."
"By now, we would be looking back on Valdani rule with affection." He released his breath in an uncontrolled rush. "Who starves the cities of water? Who rules the mountains through terror and violence?" Anger sparked inside of him even now as he recalled, "She was the one who said to me, 'Who has already killed more shallaheen than the Valdani ever will?' She was the one who taught me the history of our people and made me understand what they really are. I was an ignorant boy from a violent clan which was unquestioningly loyal to a Lironi waterlord. Even when I feared Armian, even when I turned away in horror from things he did, I still..." He shook his head. "Well, who can say what might have been? But until I knew Elelar, it never occurred to me that there could be another way."
"And once you knew, there was no turning back. I know. I've been there, too," Josarian said. "The night I first said no to the Valdani... I could never go back, after that. I suddenly knew, for the first time, that everything could be different, and should be different, and I had to try to make it so."
"I was the one who found him and saved his life," Tansen said. "He'd reached Kiloran because of me. Sileria would be enslaved forever by the Society because of me, because I had saved Armian to accomplish this thing." He closed his eyes. "So it was up to me to stop him. I had to destroy the only link between the Society and the Moorlanders, the only person trusted by both sides."
"How did you do it, though? A boy against a man? A shallah against an assassin?"
"I knew I couldn't succeed in a direct challenge. So I took him by surprise. He..." His blood roared in his ears. "It was easy to catch him off guard. He trusted me completely."
They were on the cliffs east of Adalian, Tansen explained, walking rather than riding, since it was a dark-moon night and the landscape was too treacherous for horses. It was raining and the wind was high. Tired and unused to such exertion, Elelar was lagging behind. Sick in his heart over what he had decided he must do, Tansen awaited his opportunity.
"It was very dark, hard to see anything in the distance. He stood on a cliff, with his back to me, looking down into a cove." Tansen's was voice dull and distant now, recalling each breath, each movement, each gust of wind. "He had recently given me a new yahr, one he'd gotten from Kiloran, made of petrified Kintish wood. I stood behind him and struck him with it."
Armian had fallen to his knees, stunned by the blow but not knocked unconscious. A great fighter, he instinctively rolled away from the second blow while simultaneously reaching for his shir.
"But he froze, like a statue, when he saw me standing above him swinging the yahr."
If he lived for all eternity, he would never forget the sound of his bloodfather's voice as he said, "Tansen?"
He had heard it in a thousand nightmares since then and, if he lived long enough, he would hear it in a thousand more.
Having learned well from Armian, Tansen took advantage of the moment of shocked surprise, his opponent's brief hesitation, and struck him in the face with another blow of the yahr. The shir fell from Armian's hand with Tansen's third blow. By the fifth, he was dead.
"I pushed the body off the cliff, so it landed on the shore of the cove where the Moorlanders were to meet him."
"So they'd find it there... and consider their proposal refused," Josarian deduced.
"Well, everyone knows what a violent, irrational, quarrelsome people we are." Tansen's voice was bitter.
"And also how dangerous, secretive, and unpredictable the Society is." Josarian paused before asking, "What did Elelar do?"
"Ah, Elelar..."
The young torena's screams added to the horror as Tansen stared down at Armian's corpse. At first, the terror and shock of the sudden murder numbed her wits, and she could do little but scream and weep. Then they fought bitterly, shouting at each other on that windy cliff. She thought he had lost his mind and destroyed their entire future.
"Then we saw the Moorlander ship enter the cove," Tansen said. "She became determined to go down and try to speak with them herself, to see if she could somehow salvage the proposed alliance, despite what they would find down there."
"Did you stop her?"
His mouth quirked, "Yes, and she hates me for that most of all."
He tore off the pretty scarf covering her hair in the damp, windy night, bore her to the ground, planted his knee in her back, and used the silken cloth to bind her wrists together. Then he carried her away from the site of the meeting, hauling her on his shoulders like a sack of grain. He didn't release her until dawn, when he knew there'd be no chance of her contacting the Moorlander ship.
"I planned to escort her back to Shaljir." He laughed briefly and without humor. "I had just murdered my own bloodfather, but I didn't think it right to let a torena travel alone." He shrugged. "She had other plans, however."
"She decided to go straight to Kiloran and tell him what you'd done, so that he wouldn't withdraw from the Alliance."
"Exactly. She felt she had to... prove the Alliance's loyalty to him and their mutual cause by condemning me." He gazed up at the indifferent stars. "She said that Kiloran would swear a bloodvow against me and that she would celebrate on the day she learned of my death."
"So at fifteen, with no home, no family, no clan, and with powerful enemies who would soon be searching every crevice in the mountains for you, you decided to leave Sileria."
"Despite what I had done, I still wanted to live," Tansen admitted. "So I boarded a ship bound for Kashala and worked for my passage."
"And now you are a man and a great warrior. Now you have friends and a brother who will not abandon you."
"I've killed a bloodpact relative, Josarian. You should—"
"Fortunately, it's up to Dar, and not me, to judge you for that. Especially if he really was the Firebringer."
"Do you believe in the Firebringer?"
"I believe men must solve their own problems, rather than dreaming of someone who will come do that for them."
Tansen drew a fast, sharp breath.
"What's wrong?"
"That's what he said to me once."
"I imagine he was not altogether bad," Josarian conceded.
"No. I wish he had been. Then it would be easier to bear what I've done."
"Tansen, even the Outlookers I've killed were not, I believe, altogether bad men. Each one of them must have... I don't know—loved a woman well, or been kind to children, or treated his mother with respect, or even just died bravely...
"You're a shatai. You've said that you're different from an assassin, that your teacher wanted you to use good judgment when you fight and before you kill. Yet you must know that you could never kill if you required that an opponent prove his complete unworthiness to live. How many men could oblige you, after all? Very few, I think."
"But I killed one who trusted me, one with whom I'd sworn a bloodpact."
"Yes." Josarian nodded. "It's a terrible burden to carry, and I see that you will suffer beneath it forever. Who knows? Perhaps Dar may even decide that's punishment enough."
"Kiloran won't."
"I doubt Kiloran believes in remorse," Josarian pointed out. "But you told Elelar you will return the shir to him."
"The one he made. The one I picked up off the ground after throwing Armian's body off the cliff."
"You kept the woman's scarf after you untied her..."
"Yes."
"You returned it to her in Shaljir, and she no longer wishes for your death." Josarian put a hand on Tansen's shoulder and squeezed. "Perhaps once he has t
he shir, Kiloran's hatred will be quenched, too."
Chapter Nineteen
Some men were controlled by admittance to a woman's bed; others were best controlled by their desire to get there.
Kiloran's son Srijan was a difficult man: ruthless, arrogant, violent, and selfish. Fortunately, he wasn't as intelligent as his father, and he was still young enough to be ruled by his passions—particularly his sexual ones. That was why the Alliance had chosen Elelar as his chief contact with their organization in Shaljir. She knew that several of her associates within the Alliance assumed that she slept with Srijan. However, she was a better judge of men than they were.
As a child, Elelar had loved almond milk. Then one year, at the start of the season, she had gorged herself on it until she got sick. After that, even the smell of it revolted her—and still did to this very day.
Srijan had only been a boy of twelve when Elelar first met him nine years ago. Even then, she had observed his tendency to indulge in a surfeit of whatever pleased him, then quickly grow to hate it for not satisfying the deep well of his endless, nameless hunger. Elelar secretly suspected it was, in fact, a soul that he lacked; and no amount of sensual indulgence or personal power could satisfy the craving caused by such a void.
Kiloran had officially made Srijan an assassin several years ago and now granted him the power and duties of a high-ranking Society member. When Elelar became Srijan's contact with the Alliance in Shaljir, he was blunt about his intention of using her as he pleased. She refused his sexual advances just as bluntly, punctuating her refusal with a well-aimed knee to his groin. She thereafter ensured that he never again found an opportunity to be alone with her; even Srijan wouldn't assault her in front of her own servants.
Quite apart from the extreme distaste she felt for his language and behavior, she knew that he was a man who, after sating himself with a woman for a while, developed an irrational revulsion for that same woman. He had ruined many a shallah girl this way. Elelar had hired two of Srijan's hapless ex-mistresses to work as servants at one of her country estates, far from their homes and the rumors of their ruination. She had no doubt that if she made the mistake of sleeping with Srijan, he'd soon grow tired of her, too. And that would make him useless to her thereafter.
In Legend Born Page 31