All except Kiloran, that is.
Mirabar, the only person whose opinion ever seemed to carry much weight with Kiloran, had been unable to convince him to follow Josarian's orders. She had to leave Britar today to return to her circle of companions in time to prepare for the Guardians' sacred rites welcoming in the New Year. Elelar, who had neglected her religious observances for years, had only a sketchy idea of what this entailed, but she gathered it was a lengthy process for the Guardians and one which they considered extremely important. Consequently, after one last unsuccessful attempt to sway Kiloran, Mirabar stayed at Britar only long enough to ask Tansen for news of Cheylan, who was once again in the east, as was Josarian's brother-in-law.
The changes in Mirabar since Darshon were readily apparent to Elelar. Mirabar had still been a girl the last time Elelar saw her; now she was a woman. To one who had crossed that threshold herself, the differences were unmistakable though hard to define. Confidence, maturity, grace, self-assurance... Whatever it was, it was there. Nor was Elelar the only one who noticed the difference, she realized. Tansen's gaze no longer dismissed or avoided Mirabar the way it once had; and his voice, when he spoke to her, was both more intimate and more courteous than it had been in former days.
However, Elelar couldn't pretend to like the sharp-tongued Guardian any more than she ever had. After one particularly noisy encounter between Kiloran and Mirabar, Elelar had been sharply rebuffed by the other woman when she suggested that persuasion worked better than confrontation when a woman dealt with a powerful man. No, Elelar was not sorry to see Mirabar leave Britar, accompanied by four sturdy shallaheen and Najdan the assassin. And if Tansen was sorry to see her go, he kept it to himself.
The changes in Tansen were harder to discern, but Elelar had known him longer than most people, if not necessarily better. His gaze strayed often to where Darshon rose through the clouds, though the expression on his face suggested he was daring the goddess, rather than communing with her. He seemed paradoxically more serene yet more troubled than before, and his manner silenced any questions that Elelar tried to pose about what had happened to him on Darshon. He wasn't curt or rude when she broached the subject, just... so distant as to be unreachable.
In any event, it was clear that the events on Mount Darshon had drawn Tansen, Mirabar, and Josarian even closer together. However, the coming of the Firebringer didn't have a positive effect on all of Josarian's relationships. The waterlords resented his growing power, and Kiloran was openly hostile and suspicious. And then there was Zimran, who felt alienated by Josarian's relationship with Tansen, eclipsed by his cousin's glory, and left out of the extraordinary events sweeping across Sileria.
Elelar understood by now why Josarian assigned only menial tasks to his cousin, despite his personal affection for him: Zimran's heart was not in the rebellion, not even now. Indeed, Zimran's heart was invested in very little besides Zimran... though Elelar knew he believed he was in love with her. So she kept her distance from him these days, since she had no intention of taking him as a lover. Yes, she could be ruthless; she had never denied that. But she wasn't wantonly cruel. Elelar had no wish to encourage a man she didn't want, need, or intend to accept.
Meanwhile, the man she might accept was being particularly difficult today.
"You have Josarian's ear," she said to Tansen as the sun rose over Britar the day after his arrival. "You must convince him to compromise with Kiloran."
He sat polishing his swords, tending them with more concentration than Elelar suspected the task required of him after all these years. He didn't even look up as he said, "If you want Josarian to compromise, you talk to him."
"He won't listen to me."
His mouth quirked. "Probably because you tell him to do things like compromise with Kiloran."
"He's alienating Kiloran," she warned. "You must see that."
Tansen finally glanced up at her. His eyes were hard. "Kiloran is alienating the Firebringer. You must see that."
"Even the Firebringer can't defeat the Valdani without Kiloran."
"I don't recall the prophecy saying anything about Kiloran."
"Oh, for the love of Dar!"
Tansen lifted one brow in response to her outburst but said nothing.
Elelar sighed and sat down close to him. Very close. "I was at Kandahar, too," she reminded him, banishing the impatience from her tone by force of will. "So I believe in visions and prophecy, Tansen. I have seen things I never dreamed of before."
"So have I." His voice was expressionless.
"You have told me what happened at Darshon, and I honor Josarian's union with Dar and his place in our destiny."
There was no mistaking the irony in his tone as he said, "But?"
"But even Mirabar would tell you—"
"You don't know what Mirabar would tell me."
"—that we cannot stand by idly. We must take part in our destiny. She moved heaven and earth to find you. Risked her own life at Kandahar. Nearly died at Darshon... "
"Yes." His expression revealed nothing of his thoughts, but the tension in his body surprised her.
"She brought us Armian, who told us that we must fight the Valdani together."
"Kiloran was there, too," Tansen replied. "Why should we compromise? Why shouldn't he?"
"Because he won't, and you and I both know it."
He said nothing, but his strokes were hard and fast against the blade of a sword. She realized he was angry—and not entirely at her.
Elelar murmured, "You know I'm right."
"I know that you believe you're right, which is entirely different." But his dismissal lacked conviction.
"If we lose Kiloran now, we lose the entire Society."
Tansen sheathed one blade, then pulled out the other and began cleaning it. Trying to reach him, she put one hand over his, stopping his work. She shifted so that her breasts brushed against his arm.
"Please," she whispered, pressing her thigh against his.
He went rigid. She could practically feel the sudden flush of desire which washed through him. His jaw flexed, a tiny movement that spoke volumes about the control he exerted on himself.
"We could still lose everything." Elelar moved her face closer to his, letting her breath caress his darkening cheek.
Tansen turned his head slightly toward her. His eyes closed for a moment. She could sense the struggle inside of him.
"You and I..." she whispered. "We have risked too much, lost too much, to throw away victory now."
His eyes snapped open, dark and blazing with anger. He pulled away from her and returned to polishing his sword. She thought he would lash out at her, but his anger seemed to be directed more at himself than at her.
"If you want to convince Josarian of your point of view, then you talk to him." His strokes were short and almost violent. "Don't ask me to go against my brother, Elelar." He kept his gaze fixed on his blade as he warned, "Don't ever ask me again."
Knowing she had lost, she sighed, rose, and wandered back toward her tent, a luxurious shelter which had been abandoned along with the estate she currently inhabited. She almost believed she could feel the chill that Mirabar said Kiloran sent through the air. Surely it was just the damp of the early morning, but even so...
Dismay filled her when she came across Kiloran's servants packing up his camp. He was leaving without reaching an agreement about Shaljir, Alizar, or the Idalar River.
Knowing she had little time to turn events around, Elelar approached one of Kiloran's most trusted men, an educated and notoriously dangerous assassin whose face bore a scar left by the first man he had ever killed.
"Searlon," she said. "I must speak with Kiloran."
"The time for talking is over." The assassin's voice was brusque. "We're leaving for Kandahar immediately."
Elelar regarded him with all the arrogance of her rank. "And do you speak for your master now? Would he appreciate your turning away a torena without consulting him?"
Searlon hesitated for a moment, then crossed his fists in front of his chest and bowed his head respectfully. "Forgive me, torena. We are all on edge, are we not?"
"Yes, of course," she agreed graciously. "Please tell your master that I humbly beg an audience with him."
She was admitted to Kiloran's tent a few moments later. Its grandeur positively shamed the luxurious one in which she slept. Kiloran dismissed his mistress with a brief glance, then turned his cold, snakelike gaze upon her. Elelar repressed a shudder, feeling a newfound respect for Mirabar, who had risked the waterlord's wrath more than once.
"Siran." She crossed her fists and bowed her head. Even the toreni bowed before Kiloran. "I humbly beg you to stay until we have resolved this matter. I don't need to tell you how important the att—"
"When that shallah is prepared to discuss the matter reasonably and respectfully, I will meet with him again. Not before." The waterlord's voice was as hard and unyielding as his expression, discouraging further comment.
Although she had never been timid, Elelar's stomach churned with nerves as she persisted, "Allow me to speak with him before you leave, siran, and I will—"
"I have no more time to waste here," Kiloran said coldly. "If you can make him see reason, then you may contact me through my son."
"How, siran? Zilar is still under Valdani control, and we—"
"There is an inn at Golnar. Not as comfortable as the one at Zilar, but Srijan will tell the keeper that you might appear there."
"Please, siran, we are allies," she said, even though his expression warned her not to annoy him further. "Is there no way we can reach an understanding here at Britar?"
"He wants to rule the waterlords." Kiloran's pale complexion colored with fury. "He wants to rule me."
"Josarian wants only to defeat the Valdani."
"He intends to control the Society to do so." The old wizard studied her intently. "He already controls the shallaheen, lowlanders, zanareen, sea-born folk, and Guardians. Doesn't this worry you?"
"Should it, siran? He is the—"
"Do you really intend to let him rule Sileria after the war is over?"
The question surprised her. "I hadn't thought—"
"Then it's time you and your people did think, torena." Kiloran leaned forward, his expression hard. "For you will find that power is much harder to take away than it is to withhold."
Zimran could hear raised voices as he approached the caves of Dalishar. Elelar and Josarian were arguing hotly about Kiloran, the Society, and the war. Though Zimran had not been at the meeting near Britar ten days ago, he knew that it hadn't gone well.
With the hour of the New Year approaching, the sacred caves were a hive of bustling activity. Here at one of Sileria's holiest sites, there were many Guardians preparing for the final religious rituals which would welcome in the New Year tomorrow at dawn. Throughout rebel-held territory, people were getting ready for the festivities that would follow tonight's religious observances. Zimran had promised Josarian that, the war notwithstanding, he would join him at Dalishar, for they had celebrated every New Year of their lives together.
Unfortunately, the mood up here was tense with anger rather than anticipation. Tansen ignored Zimran as he walked past, totally absorbed in practicing with his swords. He must have been at it a long time, since he was drenched in sweat, despite the cool air of the season. Most of the rebels seemed to be going out of their way to avoid the sounds of Josarian and Elelar fighting. Lann paced alone, nervous and concerned, outside the cave where the two of them argued.
After greeting him, Zimran asked, "How long have they been at it?"
"Too long," was the gruff answer. "And they don't want to be interrupted."
So Zimran waited with Lann until the angry discussion inside Josarian's cave finally lost momentum, faded, and died. When Elelar emerged from the cave, her expression made it clear that they hadn't reached an understanding. Zimran's mouth went dry upon seeing her again. It had been too long since they had last met. She was dressed for the ceremonies that would begin after sundown, and she looked as elegant and beautiful as only she could. Heat rushed through him as he returned her greeting. Before he could ask after her health or think of some excuse to touch her, Josarian came out of the cave, too, his scowl melting into a big smile when he saw his cousin.
"Zim! You've come!"
"I promised, didn't I?"
Josarian swept him into an affectionate hug, then slapped him hard on the back and called Jalilar. Zimran reluctantly let his attention be dragged away from the torena.
"You're still here?" Zimran said to Jalilar, knowing that she had wanted to go to Emelen's side ever since summer.
"Still here," Jalilar said with an exasperated glance at her brother. "But he has promised to send me east at last—with Tansen, when he goes back."
The shatai approached them at the mention of his name, his skin gleaming with exertion, his breath coming a little fast. He barely acknowledged Zimran, instead glancing from Elelar to Josarian with a wary, assessing gaze.
"The day is nearly gone," Elelar said to Josarian, her tone rigidly polite. "May I have an escort home?"
"You're not staying?" Tansen asked. He didn't sound surprised.
"I think not."
Before the shatai could offer, Zimran said, "I'd be honored to escort you home, torena."
Tansen went very still, but he didn't protest. Elelar was accepting the offer when Josarian interrupted, "But, Zimran! You'll never make it back here tonight."
"I'll come in the morning, then."
"But I thought we were going to..." Josarian glanced at the torena's icy expression, then suppressed his obvious disappointment. "Naturally, I would not wish to deprive the torena of a safe escort."
"Thank you," she replied. Zimran had known Outlookers to sound friendlier than Elelar did right now.
"I just..." Josarian shrugged, turning his gaze back to his cousin. "We've just never spent the New Year apart. That's all."
Zimran shrugged. He saw possibilities on the horizon tonight which precluded any sorrow over yet another break with the life he had known before Josarian's war. "Well, everything is different this year, eh?"
"Everything," Jalilar agreed, glancing from Josarian to Zimran. Her expression was almost sad.
Unable to resist, Zimran pointed out, "Anyhow, Tansen will be here."
"Yes. I will." There was contempt in the gaze Tansen directed at him.
Smugly aware that he had won the prize which Tansen would have liked to claim tonight, Zimran said, "We should leave immediately, torena. You don't want to travel in the dark, I'm sure."
Josarian's farewell was as effusive as his greeting had been. Zimran felt a brief stab of guilt as he left him. It disappeared, though, when he took one last look over his shoulder and saw Josarian engrossed in conversation with the shatai, his gaze intent and trusting as Tansen spoke.
"We used to be that close," Zimran said to the torena, seeing her gaze directed at the same scene.
She turned away and started down the mountain path. "He still loves you."
"Yes, but..." Zimran could see that Elelar was still furious with Josarian about matters concerning the rebellion. Why such a woman should worry so fiercely about men's business always puzzled him, but now he used her anger at Josarian to his advantage as he confided, "He is no longer the man I knew."
She looked at him intently for a moment, then repeated softly, almost as if to herself, "He still loves you..."
"Before the shatai came, before the war... Things were different then..." A woman's compassion was a powerful force, and he had often been successful at evoking it.
"He trusts you."
Before he could respond, the torena turned away. A strange sadness seemed to have taken hold of her. He was perplexed, since he sensed that it had little to with him or the womanly warmth he was trying to inspire in her.
Patience, he reminded himself. He was trying to seduce a sophisticated torena, not a bor
ed shallah widow, some lonely Sister, or the neglected wife of a boorish rural Valdan. He had taken his time with this one, knowing she would have to be wooed carefully. Tonight might well fulfill his dreams, as long as he didn't push her. He must coax her, win her, and make her want him the way he wanted her.
She said little as they descended Dalishar, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't speak much, either, but pursued his seduction with subtle, unyielding intent. He took her hand over many rough and not-so-rough portions of the path. He let his hands linger on her slim waist whenever he helped her down from steep tumbles of rock. Noticing that she didn't object to such familiarity, he let his hands linger a little longer each time.
He wasn't sure at first, but by the time they reached the end of the trail, she was unquestionably permitting—even inviting—his attentions. Her gaze held his with silent promise more than once as he let their thighs brush together while setting her down on her feet. Her hand slipped into his on several occasions when he could tell she really needed no assistance over the path.
When they arrived at the half-ruined villa which Josarian had allocated to the torena and her servants, Zimran was not surprised by her invitation to join him for a quiet, private dinner. As twilight descended over Sileria and Elelar's servants left the house to participate in the religious rites being conducted in Chandar, he knew she wouldn't suggest that he, too, should leave now.
As the last dark-moon night of the year poured the scents of spring's birth through the windows, Zimran joined Elelar on the soft, imported silks covering her bed and finally reaped the rewards of his long, patient seduction of her.
In Legend Born Page 60