In Legend Born

by Laura Resnick

  "Kiloran..." His voice was rich with power, strength, intelligence. "Siran... Now is the time. We were wrong. Now is the time."

  Kiloran's breath rasped sharply. His aged lungs wheezed against the shock of the first Calling he had ever seen; a man who pursued water magic gave up any claim to communion with the Otherworld.

  "Sileria..." Armian seemed to sigh. "Oh, to breathe her scent again. To see her peaks and valleys again. You never knew, siran, I never told you. You would have laughed... but I loved her as if she were a woman..."

  "She could have been ours." Kiloran's voice was heavy with hatred. "I could have ruled all of Sileria! We could have, if not for him."

  Armian swayed like a willow in the wind. "Tansen..."

  So... Armian had somehow promised Sileria to Kiloran, and Tansen had stopped him. By killing him? Mirabar felt dizzy with the implications. Confusion swamped her. And even through the humming of her senses and the music of death, she could feel the warrior's tension and shame as Armian repeated his name.

  "I am here," Tansen answered at last. "I..." His breath was harsh, choking off his words.

  "You..." Armian's shade wavered with sorrow. "You were the only thing I ever loved unselfishly, asking nothing in return..."

  "I... I know..." Tansen stumbled forward and stood so close she could feel his trembling.

  "My son..."

  His son? Mirabar was so startled she nearly lost control of the fire. Armian's shade wavered as she wrapped her will around it again, concentrating fiercely.

  Armian's shadowy gaze burned into the man who stood at her side. "I trusted you... See what you've done to me..."

  Tansen fell to his knees at Mirabar's side. Unable to speak, he crossed his fists over his chest and bowed his head respectfully, swallowing hard, shoulders shaking.

  "Let me kill him for you now," Kiloran urged. "Let me—"

  "You need him." Armian's floating voice drowned out the waterlord's hatred.

  "Why?"

  "Because Josarian needs him, and Sileria needs Josarian..."

  "For what?"

  "To drive out the Valdani..."

  "Now?" Kiloran's voice was hoarse with surprise.

  The shir twisted and turned gracefully. "Sileria can be Silerian again, free of invaders for the first time in a thousand years..."

  Now it was the torena who spoke, her voice high-pitched and full of desperate hope. "Truly? How? Will I live to see it?"

  "Elelar..." Armian's arms moved subtly, as if drawing her nearer. "If you had been only a little older... Ah, but I could never take the woman that my son wanted so desperately..."

  Bitter yearning.

  "And when you betrayed my bloodson for killing me... You paved the way for all that he became..."

  A bloodpact son. Armian had taken Tansen, a shallah boy, as a bloodpact son. Mirabar started to recognize the tangled connections, the strands of life and death, of enmity and alliances, of love and betrayal that had led her here.

  "You spoke of freedom," Elelar said, addressing Armian.

  "I spoke of defeating the Valdani..."

  "Well?" she prodded, not sounding as respectful as she had at first. A very arrogant woman, this one.

  "We were wrong then... The Moorlanders..."

  "Meant to betray us?" Kiloran asked.

  "Were too weak..."

  "Too weak to fight a war on two fronts?" Elelar guessed.

  "Yes... The war here... Must be our war and no one else's..."

  "But it can be done?" Elelar asked.

  "Not by the Society alone. Not by the shallaheen alone. Not by the Guardians, the Alliance, or the sea-born folk... alone..."

  "An alliance," Mirabar breathed, finally understanding. "All of us together. All the peoples of Sileria, fighting together against the Valdani."

  "The Society and the Guardians?" Kiloran blurted. "Never!"

  "Don't you think the Alliance has tried?" Elelar said, sounding exasperated. "The shallaheen trust no one. The sea-born folk care about no one but themselves. The Society and the Guardians are blood enemies. The lowlanders hate the toreni, and the city-dwellers fear the shallaheen. The Sisters and the zanareen will fight no one, not even the Valdani. The toreni and the merchants are unwilling to risk their wealth in an all-out rebellion. How can we possibly—"

  "I didn't risk my life to come here and listen to you whine about how difficult it will be!" Mirabar snapped.

  "You know nothing about this," Elelar shot back. "I have spent years—"

  "I have seen visions of our future," Mirabar insisted hotly. "I have seen his swords breaking the shackles that enslave us!" She pointed at Tansen. "I have seen fire and water together, neither destroying the other. An alliance of our power!" She risked a glance at Kiloran and then returned her attention to the fire she kept blazing for Armian, at great cost to her strength. "I have seen Daurion's sword smash the Sign of the Three, a great structure made of marble and gold which sits in a place of—"

  "In the middle of Santorell Square," Elelar said breathlessly. "In Shaljir."

  "I don't know where. I only know that we can smash it together. All of us, fighting as one, for the first time."

  "With Josarian leading the shallaheen," Elelar murmured.

  "The Society and the Guardians joining together?" Kiloran said with obvious distaste.

  "Yes..." Armian's voice echoed around the palace.

  "And this Alliance of yours..." Mirabar said.

  "This Alliance of ours," Elelar said, "bringing all the people together into one. Against them."

  "Against the Valdani."

  "The sea-born folk, the Sisters, the zanareen, the lowlanders..." Josarian's voice trailed off. "Will they join us?"

  "If you prepare the way..." Armian said. "Not at first, but you must believe... They will come if you prepare the way..."

  "How? When?" Elelar demanded.

  "The city-dwellers, the Guardians, the Society..." Armian continued, ignoring her. "The toreni, the merchants, the shallaheen... Not all at once, but you can convince them... Not all with the same strength, but they will come..."

  "If we prepare the way," Mirabar said.

  "Then Sileria will be ours?" Kiloran asked.

  "Then Sileria will be free of the Valdani..." Armian vowed. "They will leave..."

  "What must we do?" Josarian asked.

  "Enemies must become allies. Bloodvows must be rescinded, bloodfeuds between the mountain clans must be ended," Mirabar said, finally understanding the substance of her visions.

  "Yes..." Armian gestured to her. "She is guided by the will of the Otherworld. You must respect her..."

  "She's a demon!" Srijan cried.

  "She will be the shield," Armian said, "as my son will be the sword..."

  "The Olvar." Tansen suddenly said, coming to life at last. "That's what he said."

  "You five..." Armian's voice grew thinner. "You can change the world if you make peace tonight..." Mirabar was growing weaker, letting Armian fall back through the barrier. She pursued him, using the last of her energy to pull him closer to this world. "If you fail..."

  "What's wrong?" Elelar asked suddenly.

  "I'm losing him," Mirabar muttered, her spirit following his into the fire, depleting her strength. She felt the pull of the Otherworld as she drew closer. She ignored it, clinging to Armian.

  "The chance won't come again..." They could barely hear his voice now. "... for another thousand..."

  "Armian!" Kiloran's voice was urgent, willing him back.

  "A thousand years... You must..."

  Mirabar lost Armian and stumbled too far while trying to reclaim him. Her strength crumbled, leaving her stranded in the void between this world and the Other one. The fires roared around her as she lost her way, the world of the living growing black and distant as oblivion reached out to gather her to its bosom for all eternity. Lost in the void of the gateway, searching for the path back to her body, she cried out in silent terror. She had seen others die this w
ay and had always feared it. Now there was not even another Guardian present to help her find her way. Screaming for the Beckoner, she groped blindly, resisting the pull of death and oblivion.

  The shock of freezing cold water snapped her back into place with the force of an explosion. Sputtering and blinking, she shook her hair out of her eyes and looked around in dazed confusion. Kiloran, she realized vaguely, had saved her by destroying her own fire. Water was still rushing in from a collapsing wall of the palace, pushing her across the floor and flooding the room.

  "Stop it!" she shouted, afraid of drowning.

  Arms folded across his chest, the old waterlord gazed at her with a cold, unfriendly expression as the wall closed itself up and stopped pouring water into the room.

  Trudging through knee-deep water, the assassins went to Kiloran's side, standing protectively around their leader. Tansen hauled Elelar to her feet, swept her into his arms as she sputtered and coughed, and set her down on Kiloran's throne, ignoring the wizard's angry objection. Srijan climbed atop a shell-encrusted chest and watched them all warily. Josarian helped Mirabar to her feet and, apologizing for the familiarity, checked her for injuries.

  "You saved my life," she said to Kiloran, aware that her tone lacked the gratitude one should normally express for such an act. "Does that mean..." She stopped uncertainly.

  "It would seem that, after a thousand years of enmity, the Guardians and the Society must become partners," Kiloran said. He added, in a voice that dripped with sarcasm, "Sirana."

  "And the shallaheen will join the Alliance," Josarian said. Then he shook himself like a dog.

  "The waterlords and the assassins..." Kiloran's face twisted with displeasure. "We will call a truce on our internal disputes until..."

  "Until after the war," Elelar said, shivering. "Until after Sileria is free of the Valdani."

  Kiloran nodded. "And we will pledge ourselves to this... bloodfeud sworn by the shallaheen."

  "So will the Guardians," Mirabar vowed. She hoped was right. She was only an initiate, after all, but she didn't think this was the best moment to mention that.

  "Now is the time," Elelar said, dwelling on the words. "We can win. I can live to see the Valdani withdraw from Sileria."

  Without asking Kiloran's permission, Tansen sloshed across the hall and retrieved his swords. Arming himself, he said, "There is one minor point I'd like to clear up before the rest of you start planning the victory celebration." He turned to face Kiloran and said, "Call off the bloodvow."

  "We seem to be right back where we started," Kiloran muttered.

  "Cheer up," Tansen advised him. "If I'm to fight a war against the Valdani, you can count on my dying soon, anyhow."

  "He will be the sword," Mirabar said, her teeth chattering. "We cannot do this without him."

  "I won't do it without him," Josarian added. "Call off the bloodvow, or the shallaheen will join no one."

  Looking as if he had just swallowed seawater, Kiloran said, "Bring me the shir."

  Tansen sloshed over to the spot they'd last seen it and groped around in the water. After finding it, he knelt before Kiloran and formally offered the dagger to its maker: "Lord of water and all its power, you who made the shir and who can unmake our thirst at your will, I have no wish to quarrel with you, and so I beg your forgiveness for killing Armian mar Harlon shah Idalari. I return his shir to you as a sign of my good faith and my earnest desire to make peace with you."

  Kiloran accepted the shir and held its blade against Tansen's forehead. "Tansen mar Dustan shah Gamalani, I accept your peace offering. Before these witnesses, I hereby forgive you the death of Armian and now rescind the bloodvow I swore against you. Whosoever your other enemies may be, you will no longer be pursued by me, my friends, or the friends of my friends, so long as you offer me no further offense."

  Tansen rose to his feet, met Kiloran's gaze, and nodded. Then he looked long and hard at the assassins, as if to make sure they didn't have any doubts about the ritual.

  "Now we can be allies," Josarian said with satisfaction. "Now we can fight the Valdani together."

  Shivering, Mirabar said to Kiloran, "Can't you do anything about all this water? I'm freezing!"

  Elelar sighed. The assassins looked shocked. Tansen actually laughed.

  Kiloran glowered at his guests. "Since you weren't invited, perhaps you could all leave now?"

  "We still have things to discuss, plans to make," Elelar objected.

  "Later," Kiloran said.

  "Up there, torena," Josarian suggested, pointing overhead. "Where we might be more comfortable."

  "Go!" Kiloran snapped.

  Josarian caught Mirabar's eye and grinned. "Well, sirana, this shade from the Otherworld never said we all had to learn to like each other."

  Part Two

  "I can take care of my enemies,

  but Dar shield me from my friends."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Koroll had never before been in Shaljir during the summer. Now, as Commander of Sileria's exotic capital, he couldn't abandon the city and retreat to the countryside as every other person of means did during these mad days of relentless heat, dust, and sun. A tolerable (if crowded) place during the rest of the year, Shaljir became a virtual cauldron in mid-summer, a prison of seething heat and stench that simmered beneath Sileria's fiercely blue sky. The torment ended only when the city was finally soothed by the first northern winds which came at the end of the season, bringing relief and—everyone prayed—rain.

  Violent crime rose sharply within the city walls during the brain-baking days of high summer. Tempers flared, passions erupted, and patience withered as helplessly as the lush blossoms of spring in this maddening heat. The Valdani followed the customs of previous conquerors and pronounced more lenient sentences for violent crimes committed by Silerians—against other Silerians—during the height of summer. Any crime committed against a Valdan, of course, was still punished by a sentence of death or a term of hard labor in the mines of Alizar.

  Theft, always a worry in Shaljir, became an even worse problem during summer. The wealthy and privileged abandoned their homes and palaces here every summer, leaving only a handful of servants behind to guard them. So now, when Shaljir's many criminals weren't busy assaulting each other, they were breaking into the city homes of Valdani aristocrats, toreni, wealthy merchants, and high-ranking government officials to steal whatever they could. The Emperor encouraged Sileria's richest inhabitants to maintain property and wealth in Shaljir, the most heavily taxed city in Sileria, by promising to protect it. Now it was up to Koroll to ensure that the arrangement continued to work well. Consequently, at a time when he most needed his men stationed in the mountains to fight Josarian, he'd had to bring an extra five hundred Outlookers to Shaljir to keep the peace.

  Fortunately, and contrary to all expectations this year, there was enough water to satisfy the needs of Shaljir's vast population. Summer would be a particularly grim season if water was withheld from the city. However, Kiloran seemed to have solved his problems with Baran, for water flowed plentifully into Shaljir from the Idalar River now. As usual, Kiloran doubled his tribute demands to keep the city supplied at the height of the season. Although the Valdani were making plans to use ancient tunnels located beneath the streets to bring water to Shaljir from a new source, they were still vulnerable to Kiloran's power for the time being. The Emperor's official instructions were to refuse to pay tribute to that bandit; the Silerians might give into this kind of extortionate barbarism, but the Empire would not. However, Advisor Borell was a realistic man who looked the other way when Koroll siphoned off enough gold from various sources to complete the city's contributions to the Honored Society for yet another season.

  Advisor Borell was also a lucky whoreson who was spending the summer in a fabulous cliffside villa on Sileria's eastern shores, cooled by ocean breezes and untroubled by the growing rebellion in the west. The new Commander of Cavasar, an appointee from the Emperor's court, ha
d already arrived from the mainland; not surprisingly, he turned out to be a nephew of Borell's. Koroll had by now realized that Borell was no more anxious than he to reveal the scale of their problems in Sileria. It didn't look good to be the first provincial government in some two hundred years that couldn't keep these people under control. It became clear within a few minutes of meeting Commander Cyrill, the new appointee, that he was loyal to Borell and would do what his uncle told him to do.

  So we're still safe. For now.

  Naturally, they hadn't been able to conceal the deaths of so many Outlookers. The families had to be notified, as did Emperor Jarell, and new recruits had to be requested. Moreover, the death of Commander Daroll, a son of one of Valda's most powerful families, had created an unwelcome stir back home. Daroll wasn't the sort of officer who was expected to die in service, especially not in a backwater like Sileria. He was just supposed to give a few orders, bide his time, and await an inevitable political appointment. The official story now, agreed upon at Santorell Palace, was that Daroll had bravely risked—and lost—his life while trying to negotiate with the mountain bandits and prevent further bloodshed.

  It's half-true, after all. Why mention what a fool he was?

  A military man rather than a diplomat, Koroll had let Borell do much of the talking when an Imperial Councilor came to Shaljir to demand a detailed explanation of the events reported in their dispatches. After three days of verbal dancing and lavish entertaining, Borell managed to convince the man that, while there was undeniably a problem in Sileria, they had the situation well in hand and would soon crush these bandits. Torena Elelar had served a useful purpose for once, showing commendable loyalty to Borell. She had assured the Councilor, who was thoroughly charmed by her anyhow, that the other peoples of this splintered society disapproved of the shallah outlaws, who had by now gained all the support they were ever going to gain. Yes, the torena had been very helpful, Koroll conceded privately; perhaps he had misjudged her.

  The Councilor had returned to Valda with optimistic reports. The Imperial Council had sent more money to pay for eliminating these provincial bandits, and two thousand Outlookers were about to be relocated to Sileria from a Kintish province which had been in the Empire's possession for over three hundred years. No men from the Moorlands could be spared; the Emperor was pushing his armies south to expand the Empire's territory there, leaving only Outlookers to hold the northern tribes.