Chapter Thirty-Six
The scent of spring was rich and loamy as Josarian made his way to another meeting with Kiloran. Tansen was not with him; he had gone east again, taking Jalilar with him. Lann and Falian were Josarian's companions today as he proceeded to the site he had chosen in response to Kiloran's recent message suggesting that they end this stalemate and attempt to reach an agreement. They were heading for an isolated Sanctuary in the wild mountains west of Dalishar, less than a day's hike from the sacred caves.
Ever since taking to the torena's bed, Zimran had been so reluctant to leave Chandar for more than a day that Josarian had decided to leave him behind. In fact, he hadn't even told him about this meeting, not having seen him recently. Besides, Josarian knew that anything he told Zimran these days was bound to reach Elelar's ears by nightfall, and he didn't need that woman lecturing him again about the need to cooperate with Kiloran.
Anyhow, Kiloran finally seemed ready to capitulate. Josarian could guess why, too. Liron was about to fall. Even the Valdani knew it, and the city's Valdani citizens were leaving Liron by the thousands, boarding ships sailing out of the harbor under a white flag of truce. The Outlookers would hold out, of course, and there would be a bloody battle before the city came under rebel control, but it would happen. After Liron fell, Adalian would not hold out for long. One by one, the cities of Sileria would fall to the rebels.
Kiloran's refusal to cooperate during the meeting at Britar was already widely known. Some Silerians were starting to mutter about this, criticizing Kiloran—whose name many people had been afraid even to say aloud in former days. But now Kiloran was defying the Firebringer and delaying the siege of Shaljir. Now Kiloran wanted Josarian to attack Shaljir without him, for his hold on Alizar and the Idalar River mattered far more to him than the additional lives that would be lost if the rebels fought for Shaljir without his help. Men weren't so shy about expressing their resentment when they knew they were more likely to die at the walls of Shaljir because Kiloran refused to help take the city. Women didn't keep their opinions to themselves when they realized that they risked losing their husbands and sons while Kiloran refused to risk losing anything at all.
Kiloran had ears everywhere and must know what people were starting to say about him. And he was too shrewd to think that even he, powerful though he was, could simply shrug off the growing tide of resentment. Sileria smelled freedom in the wind for the first time in a thousand years, and her people would not forgive anyone—not even the greatest waterlord in the world—who stood between them and their newfound dreams of liberty and glory. He would have to give in. He would have to compromise.
Josarian had been waiting for a summons from the old waterlord, and he had finally received it. Kiloran was ready to talk as a true ally. Josarian was pleased. When Liron fell, Valdani influence in the east would collapse. There would never be a better time to strike at Shaljir, the very heart of Valdani power in Sileria.
If the war could end this year...
If the war could end this year, then the profits the rebellion had reaped from the sacking of Alizar wouldn't all have to be spent on the war. Some of it could be used to rebuild Sileria after the Valdani left. If the war could end this year, fewer men would die. Only this year's spring planting would be disrupted; a hard enough burden, but one they could survive. But if the war dragged on another year, two years, five years...
Josarian hoped it wouldn't come to that. He could guess what it would do to his land and his people. He prayed that he was destined to wrest freedom from the Valdani quickly, forcing them to leave behind a nation that was not too devastated by war to enjoy its liberty.
While Josarian was lost in such thoughts as he approached the Sanctuary where the meeting would take place, Lann was in high spirits, still bragging about his victories in various contests of strength and endurance during the New Year's festivities. Josarian laughed at a boast so improbable it made Falian roll his eyes. Shaking his head, Josarian shoved Lann out of the way and stepped past him to announce their arrival to the Sisters.
He heard a hiss, a sudden thwack, and a groan. Such sounds had become so familiar during the past year that he crouched and dived for cover before conscious understanding entered his mind.
He heard Falian cry, "Lann!"
More arrows flew at them from every direction, whining through the clear mountain air. Falian screamed when he was hit. An arrow shuddered as it sank into a tree trunk next to Josarian's head.
Falian was hit again. Arms flailing, legs buckling, he tried to run into the Sanctuary, where Josarian could hear the Sisters screaming in sudden horror.
Struggling to get up, Lann unsheathed his long Moorlander sword and bellowed with rage.
"Stay down!" Josarian shouted at both men, keeping his head low.
Lann heard him and dragged himself into a clump of nettles. If he lived, he'd find his hiding place more painful than all the Fires. A Sister opened the door of the Sanctuary and ran outside to help Falian. An arrow went clean through her throat. She fell to the ground, clutching at her neck, drowning in her own blood. Horrified, Josarian jumped to his feet. The fletching of an arrow brushed past his cheek, and he hit the ground again.
"Get back!" he screamed at the remaining two Sisters who hovered in the Sanctuary's doorway, wanting to help the wounded but too terrified to move. "Get back!"
He realized that all his shouting had helped pinpoint his location for his attackers, so he crawled away on his belly, trying to form a plan, trying to think. Archers were the worst opponents because it was so hard to get close enough to kill them. As another arrow whizzed perilously close to him, it occurred to Josarian that Valdani archers would have needed help to get this deep into rebel territory. And they certainly hadn't come to this remote Sanctuary by chance.
Kiloran has betrayed me.
Even if there were rebels who wanted to betray him, no one except Lann and Falian had known where Josarian was going today. No one else had been present when he had given the location to Searlon, who took the news straight back to Kiloran. And Kiloran had obviously decided that the Firebringer had become too great a threat to the Society.
It was a trap.
Josarian wondered if there were assassins lurking here, too, or if Kiloran had fastidiously left the business of violating Sanctuary strictly to Valdani barbarians. He hoped the Outlookers were alone out here, since killing them would be hard enough without tangling with assassins, too.
One of the few advantages of fighting Valdani archers was that if you could get close to them, they were seldom as good with a sword as they were with their bows. And if he had to fight them, this wasn't such a bad spot. He had the advantage of the same dense forest and thick brush which currently hid them from view, and he was a shallah, not some clumsy roshah.
Using the same skills his father had taught him for stalking shy mountain deer and deadly mountain cats, Josarian pulled his wits together and started hunting his attackers.
In the end, they made it easier than he had hoped. He quickly and quietly killed the first one he found, strangling him with his yahr. The man was dressed as a city-dweller, but his equipment was that of an Outlooker. By the time Josarian found and killed another one, so much time had passed that the remaining Outlookers thought he had fled, and so they grew careless. They started tromping noisily through the brush, calling out to each other in Valdan. That made the next one easy to find. The man let out a warning shout before Josarian slit his throat—a shout so brief and vague that one of his companions thought he was being summoned and walked straight into Josarian's trap.
That made four. Wondering how many were left, Josarian heard voices in the clearing and crawled through the dense spring shrubbery until he could see what was happening. Two more thinly-disguised Outlookers had left their hiding places. They stood out in the open, looking down at the bodies of Falian and the Sister who had tried to help him. The Sister stared sightlessly up at the sky. Falian was on his belly. Four a
rrows had pierced his body, and a trail of blood had followed him as he crawled towards Sanctuary. A bitter bile of mingled grief and rage rose up in Josarian's throat.
Falian had been bloodcousin to Calidar. He and Josarian had played together as boys and had known each other all their lives. An innocent man, Falian had been seized and imprisoned at Britar because of Josarian's outlawry. Like Amitan, he had initially opposed the bloodfeud. Like Amitan, he had been won over and had sacrificed everything to the rebellion.
Like Amitan, now he is dead.
Josarian wanted to weep.
Dead in my name.
The guilt was unbearable, ripping into his heart as he stared at the corpse of the boyhood friend who had died in agony during an attempt on his own life.
The Outlookers looked around, argued briefly, then came to a decision. Josarian could barely hear them, but their actions were clear enough. They unsheathed their swords and started beating the bushes where Lann had disappeared. Josarian crept closer, waiting for his chance.
"Over here!" one of the men said in Valdan. "I've got him." He bent over to examine his find, then said, "He's still alive."
Josarian wondered if Lann's lack of response meant he was dying or merely unconscious. Outlookers often coated their arrowheads with strange potions and poisons. That was how they had managed to seize Tansen in Cavasar.
The other Outlooker came over to examine the first one's discovery. He cursed and jumped back, nursing a hand stung by the nettles. Then he asked, "Do you think he's Josarian?"
The first one shook his head. "Josarian is clean-shaven, they say, like most of them. This one has a beard."
"You don't see many..." The other Outlooker snapped his fingers. "This one is on the list. A great big shallah with a beard."
The first one glanced over his shoulder at Falian's body. "Maybe that one was Josarian?"
"With our luck, Josarian was probably the one that got away. And I doubt this one will tell us the truth either way." He heaved a sigh and looked at Falian again. "But Searlon can identify Josarian, so let's take the body with us."
The man who had found Lann bent over, gingerly poked through the nettles to seize Lann's hands, and then heaved. "He's as heavy as an ox!"
The other Outlooker shouted up into the surrounding forest. "We've taken one alive! Get down here and help!" Receiving no immediate response, he scowled and added more harshly, "Now, damn it! We've got to get out of here. The one that got away may come back with a hundred rebels by sundown, so get y—"
He stopped speaking and whirled around to face the two angry Sisters who came bustling out of the Sanctuary, eyes blazing, tongues wagging. Now that the surprise attack and mind-withering explosion of violence was over, they were furious.
"This is a Sanctuary of the Sisterhood!" one shouted in shallah dialect.
The other cried in common Silerian, "How dare you profane this Sanctuary with violence and bloodshed!"
"Three Into One, what are they babbling about?"
"I didn't mean to kill the woman," the first Outlooker said. "It was an accident. She got in the way. Tell them that."
"How do you propose I tell them that?" snapped the first. "I don't suppose you speak any Silerian?"
"Er, no..."
One Outlooker turned away to confront the angry Sisters bearing down on him. The other returned to struggling with Lann's unconscious body while simultaneously trying to avoid contact with the nettles. Josarian saw his chance. He sprang out of his hiding place and swung his yahr into the face of the startled Outlooker confronting the Sisters. The man's nose broke, and he fell to his knees, howling as he clutched his bloody face. The Sisters started screaming again. Josarian ignored them and turned to the second Outlooker. The man dropped Lann's arms and struggled to unsheathe his sword. Josarian jumped him and slit his throat, then turned back to the other Outlooker and killed him before he had time to collect himself.
Suddenly there was no sound in the clearing except the hysterical weeping of the Sisters, which drowned out the sound of his own heavy breathing. Josarian tensed for a moment, wondering if there were still more Outlookers hidden in the woods. Weapons ready, he looked around, waiting for the sickening whine of an arrow.
The only attack, though, came from the elder of the two Sisters. But after what had just happened, even she didn't have the heart to keep shouting at him for having killed two men right in front of her. Her rage subsided into heartbroken weeping, then faded to hollow-eyed shock when Josarian asked the Sisters to help him with Lann.
A brief examination revealed that Lann was wounded badly enough to keep him from fighting for a while, but he would probably live. Josarian almost wept with relief and gratitude. Unfortunately, although there was no better place for Lann than Sanctuary right now, Josarian couldn't leave him here. If Searlon was waiting somewhere to guide the Outlookers safely out of rebel territory, then he might come here looking for them when they didn't show up. And Josarian doubted he would come alone. Searlon wouldn't be as careless as these Outlookers had been.
Kiloran has betrayed me.
The old waterlord had just dissolved the Society's alliance with the rebels, though no one but Josarian knew it yet. Indeed, he suspected that Kiloran didn't want anyone else to know it. Too many people would never forgive him for betraying the Firebringer, so Kiloran had planned Josarian's death very carefully. He had suggested a quiet, private meeting, hinting that he had reconsidered his unpopular position. He had let Josarian choose a site deep within rebel territory, at a Sanctuary. No Silerians, not even the Society, ever committed violence within the boundaries of a Sanctuary.
Having no reason to suspect trouble, Josarian had come here as vulnerable as a lamb, accompanied by only two men, both of whom were also supposed to die in the ambush. Kiloran would tell his own story about today's events after the Firebringer was dead, and only a handful of Josarian's closest companions—those who knew he intended to meet Kiloran today—would ever question it. The Sisters would verify that Outlookers had attacked the Sanctuary, and rebels would blame the Valdani for Josarian's death, leaving Kiloran's position of respect and power secure. The Valdani had probably promised the moons to Kiloran if he helped them eliminate Josarian.
Fury consumed Josarian as he set a torch to Falian's corpse. Rage ate him as he laboriously slung Lann's unconscious body over the back of the Sisters' strongest donkey and led it away from the Sanctuary.
Betrayal was the worst crime a Silerian could commit, and the rebels punished sriliaheen according to the traditions established by the Society itself. Josarian knew what Kiloran's punishment should be, but he also knew how impregnable Kandahar was. Only Mirabar had ever breached Kiloran's power there, and Josarian doubted she'd be willing to try it again for the purpose of killing the old man.
If he couldn't kill Kiloran, then he would follow another course. Tansen had tried to protect Josarian and the others from such a fate when he'd left Dalishar to confront Kiloran and return Armian's shir to him. If Josarian couldn't punish Kiloran's betrayal with death—and it seemed he couldn't—then he would punish him by slaying someone close to him, someone he treasured so much that his own life would be destroyed by the loss.
This was the way of his kind, the only way he knew. Josarian had been born to a violent, unforgiving, and ruthless people. His heart had twisted with pity when Harjan the tailor had knelt in the streets of Zilar and begged for his life, but he had known that no one in Sileria would respect him for mercy.
A Sister, a toren, a Guardian, even a Yahrdan could be merciful. But an outlaw, a warrior, a rebel leader, the Firebringer... No. He must be ruthless if men were to continue following him, risking their lives at his side, and pledging their blood to his cause.
Above all, he must be ruthless because if he wasn't, more of his friends would betray him.
Elelar awaited Srijan in a private room at the inn in Golnar, still fuming over Josarian's recent behavior. Two days ago, he and six men had arrived at the ha
lf-ruined villa in which she now lived. Without even a pretense at courtesy, he had asked if she had a means of contacting Srijan. She explained that Kiloran had given her new instructions, essentially identical to the method by which she had contacted Srijan in the days when they used to meet near Zilar.
Barely allowing Faradar enough time to pack for the journey, Josarian had insisted they leave at once for Golnar, even though it was too late in the day for such a plan to be practical. He had refused to answer Elelar's questions about the reason for this sudden meeting. That first night on the road, Zimran, who shared Elelar's tent, had sulkily admitted that Josarian wouldn't discuss it with him, either.
Since reaching Golnar yesterday, Josarian and his men had stayed out of sight, almost as if he had deserted her after bringing her here. So, bored and bad-tempered, Elelar was awaiting Srijan with no idea why Josarian wanted to meet. She hoped he meant to end the stalemate with Kiloran. She suspected, however, that he would instead further strain his relationship with Kiloran by flinging new demands and accusations at Srijan, harsh words for the assassin to take back to Kandahar.
Elelar had been worrying about this so much lately that it gave her a perpetual headache—the very excuse she had used last night when Zimran's warm hands had sought her in bed.
Charming, attentive, and a skilled lover, the shallah was not bad company. Still, Elelar's days of freedom had been too short, and she resented Josarian and Kiloran for creating a situation wherein she'd felt compelled to invite Zimran into her bed.
She needed someone close to Josarian who was also close to her; someone whom Josarian trusted, someone who had his ear, because—since Darshon—he no longer even made a pretense of listening to her. She had wanted Tansen to be her ally, but he had made it clear at Britar that she could not count on him. Then on the eve of the New Year, as Zimran escorted her away from Dalishar, he had made it equally clear that she could count on him, if she were willing to pay the price.
In Legend Born Page 61