In Legend Born

by Laura Resnick

  For now, Kiloran would let the people of Cavasar celebrate, enjoy their revels, and repeat his name again and again in their prayers, praises, and victory songs. For now, he would play the benevolent ruler and rebel liberator. Tonight, he would let them be free.

  Soon, however, it would be time to urge the people to return to the business of living and the task of winning the rest of the war. Wars were expensive, Kiloran reminded his assassins, and therefore required tribute from the people, just as water did. The assassins would be expected to collect such tribute from Cavasar—and more efficiently than the Outlookers had done it. Power was a valuable commodity, Kiloran said, one he had no intention of sharing here in Cavasar with toreni, merchants, Guardians, or anyone else. Certain temporary concessions would be made to ease the way into a new age, to minimize protests from other factions in Cavasar, but the assassins must always remember that they ruled the city now.

  Naturally, Kiloran didn't even need to add that he ruled them.

  After gaining full and unchallenged control of Cavasar, Kiloran was most interested in developing a plan to gain control of the territory around distant Alizar. Yes, he had control of the mines themselves, which were still flooded with water cold enough to maim anyone who touched it. However, maintaining such control was a drain on Kiloran's energy, and the mines were a valuable resource going to waste. He wanted to get them up and operating again, enriching him as they had enriched the Emperor. This could not be accomplished while Josarian controlled all the territory around Alizar.

  This, however, was not Najdan's concern, Kiloran had informed him only today. Nor was Josarian his concern, for—incredible as it seemed—Kiloran had arranged for the Alliance to betray Josarian to the Valdani. The scheme would end Sileria's war and Kiloran's personal feud all in one fatal blow, and Josarian's followers would never blame Kiloran for it. Indeed, without Josarian to lead them, many of them might even recognize the true master of their nation and come to Kiloran as wayward children eventually came back to their father.

  Najdan's master had thought of everything.

  Kiloran also thought about the troubles that would continue to plague him after Josarian's death. There was the shatai, for one. Tansen was hard to kill, as previous experience had proved, but no man was invincible, and that assassin-killing, father-slaying, son-murdering shallah upstart would someday be made to pay for everything he had done.

  However, Kiloran said, this was not Najdan's concern either. The waterlord had a more difficult assignment for Najdan than assassinating Tansen. Najdan was one of his most skilled, trusted, and experienced servants. The assassin had proven his loyalty many times over the years—and been generously rewarded on every occasion. Now Najdan's abilities would be tested to their limit in an assignment for which Kiloran felt he was uniquely qualified.

  "You know more about her than anyone except the other Guardians," Kiloran said, giving Najdan his final instructions that night, sitting in the very chamber from which Cyrill the Valdan had once commanded Cavasar and its district. "You know her strengths and weaknesses, her habits and fears. You know where her ignorance sleeps and where her heart is hidden."

  "Yes, siran," Najdan said.

  Kill Mirabar.

  "If you succeed," Kiloran promised, "I will reward you beyond your dreams."

  "She is very powerful, siran. In case I do not survive..."

  "Yes?"

  "May I pay one last visit to Kandahar? I want to ensure that my woman is prepared for what may happen to me."

  Kiloran smiled, his cold eyes glinting with satisfaction. "Yes, of course." Fatherly, benevolent, a master who understood his men and their needs. "Take as much time as you need."

  "Thank you, siran. I will leave first thing in the morning."

  Chapter Forty

  "Emelen sent a runner from Liron to Dalishar," Josarian told Tansen as they sat together in Sister Basimar's Sanctuary.

  Studying Josarian's expression, Tansen asked, "Is the news bad?"

  "It could be better," Josarian admitted.

  Verlon, the most powerful waterlord in the east, had learned that Kiloran now had control of Cavasar.

  "So now he's decided he wants control of Liron," Tansen guessed.

  Josarian nodded. "Emelen says Cheylan is talking to him, but..."

  "Verlon and Cheylan," Tansen mused. "There's something between those two."

  "I know there was a bloodvow," Josarian said, "but no one seems to know what it was about."

  "Imagine that."

  The two men smiled wryly at each other.

  "You're looking much better," Josarian commented after a moment.

  "Well enough to go with you today," Tansen insisted. Again.

  He was overruled. Again. "Not yet. When you're fully healed. When Basimar says it's all right."

  Tansen sighed. The trip from the lowlands to the Sanctuary had taken more out of him that he liked to admit, though Mirabar's claim that it had nearly killed him was an exaggeration. He was training every day again, reacquainting his sore muscles and underfed body with the work of a shatai. He was getting better, but, no, he wasn't up to his usual speed and strength. His exercises exhausted him, and his wound continued to pain him.

  Nonetheless, he was more useful to Josarian at half-capacity than most men were at full capacity, and he knew it. It frustrated him to be hidden away in Sanctuary, coddled by a Sister, protected by eight men and a Guardian, and left behind by his brother. Josarian was leaving today for Zilar, which was now under rebel control. He hoped to use the town as a base from which to plan the attack on Shaljir—the long and costly battle which would finally finish the Valdani in Sileria.

  Tansen said, "I do not want to be left out of—"

  "You won't be, but you're far too important to risk—"

  "So are you," he interrupted. "Yet you're going off to Zilar without me. Kiloran will know you're there. He'll—"

  "Tansen," Josarian chided, "I'll have thousands of rebels all around me."

  "Any one of whom could be a traitor."

  "I've got fifty loyal zanareen waiting outside for me even as we speak." Josarian paused and added morosely, "In fact, ever since the ambush at the Sanctuary, they're reluctant to leave me alone even long enough to relieve myself."

  "Ten zanareen at once will be no use against Searlon, if he comes after you himself," Tansen pointed out. "They're not fighters."

  "I also have Zimran."

  "Zimran." Tansen didn't even try to hide his contempt.

  "He's a good fighter."

  "His heart is not with us, even now."

  "You're wrong. He's changed since you were wounded."

  Tansen had seen Zimran briefly upon Josarian's arrival here, and he had noticed no astounding difference in Josarian's cousin. "He hasn't changed that much."

  "He has scarcely left my side since the last dark-moon. I'm telling you—"

  Tansen shook his head. "You are blind to his faults."

  "I'm not even blind to your faults." Josarian paused and added more gently, "Or to the fact that Zimran has something that you have always wanted."

  Tansen felt his face burn with embarrassment, but he kept his voice even. "She has nothing to do with—"

  "Doesn't she?"

  "I don't trust him," said Tansen.

  "I do."

  "Josarian..."

  "He's my cousin, Tan."

  "Let me come with you."

  "No," said Josarian.

  "But I—"

  "You're not ready and you know it." Josarian shook his head. "Even you can't recover that fast from a shir wound."

  "I'll keep recovering at Zilar."

  "The trip there will set you back, as the trip here did."

  "Please—"

  "No." It was the tone with which Josarian commanded thousands. "I forbid it. Unless you intend to challenge my authority?"

  Tansen looked away. He sighed—then winced at the pain it caused in his side.

  Knowing he had
won, Josarian's voice softened. "When you're better, I'll be waiting for you at Zilar."

  He nodded. "All right... siran." He glanced up through his lashes.

  Josarian laughed. "Don't you start."

  "Are the zanareen making your life a misery?"

  "Sometimes I think that if even one more man grovels before me or asks for my blessing or..." He sighed. "Ah, well. Didn't I once tell you I much preferred being a mere outlaw?"

  "Too late now," said Tansen. "That's what you get for jumping into a volcano."

  Josarian grinned at him. "You have a rare gift for sacrilege."

  "So Mirabar says."

  Mirabar had left them alone earlier upon being asked by one of the zanareen to do a Calling. Zimran didn't disturb the two men either, since he had no more desire for Tansen's company than Tansen had for his. Now Tansen wondered idly if Zimran was off reliving old times with Basimar, or if he was still being uncharacteristically faithful to Elelar.

  He also continued to wonder why Elelar had taken Zimran as a lover. Although he thought it likely that she had an ulterior motive, for he'd never known her not to have one, he was also aware that he was incapable of pondering the situation objectively, even when he tried to discern how the torena's actions might affect Josarian and the rebellion. His thoughts were swayed by his wanting Elelar to have secret reasons for sleeping with Zimran, because he couldn't stand the alternative—that she had simply preferred Zimran to him.

  Darfire, his side hurt, and he felt light-headed from staying up all day due to Josarian's welcome presence here.

  Yes, he was jealous. He was also tired and cranky. Maybe Josarian was right. Maybe Zimran had changed. Elelar had changed Tansen irrevocably, after all, all those years ago. She had swayed the blood-born beliefs of an ignorant shallah boy, ultimately influencing him—however she denied it—to commit an unspeakable act of betrayal against his own bloodfather, a man he had even believed to be the Firebringer.

  If she could change me that much, who's to say she hasn't really made a rebel and a patriot out of that malicious, self-interested, woman-chasing fool?

  No one in the world was better-equipped than Elelar to convince a man like Zimran of virtually anything, and despite her faults, she was completely devoted to the rebellion and the future of Sileria. Tansen supposed some of her commitment could have rubbed off on Zimran—especially considering how that woman could nag when she put her mind to it.

  Tansen almost laughed as he realized that perhaps Zimran had returned to his cousin's side after all this time to get away from Elelar and her political lectures.

  He still wished he were going with Josarian now, though. With both the Society and the Valdani after him, Josarian's life was in constant danger, and Tansen's worry wouldn't ease until he was once again at his brother's side day and night, protecting him. He knew Mirabar wouldn't go, either, because Josarian had made his position clear. He believed that Tansen was currently more vulnerable than he was. Kiloran had found a way to violate Sanctuary once before—by using Outlookers—so there was no reason to assume that Tansen was safe from attack just because he was in Sanctuary now.

  "When you are well enough to protect eight men and two women, instead of their protecting you," Josarian said as he prepared to depart, "then you will be well enough to join me in Zilar."

  Josarian's farewell embrace was tentative and gentle, out of consideration for Tansen's wound. As he watched his brother leave, Tansen reflected wryly that he'd grown accustomed enough to Josarian's typically exuberant bear hug to miss it on this occasion.

  Mirabar had left Tansen alone after Josarian's departure yesterday, knowing that he would brood about being left behind. He was healing, but not as fast as he wanted to, and he was full of impatience. Moreover, seeing Zimran replace him at Josarian's side clearly rankled him, though he tried not to let it show. Zimran, who already had Elelar, after all...

  Whatever had been on the warrior's mind that day in the Shrine of the Three, when he had touched Mirabar in a way she had never expected, he seemed to have forgotten it since then. And considering the way he had fallen right back under the torena's spell, Mirabar had no intention of reminding him of those moments.

  Though she was vaguely aware that those two had quarreled often in recent months, Elelar had practically oozed charm that day at the shrine, as if reconsidering her choices in light of Tansen's struggle against death. The torena had played Tansen like a harp. And he—a man unlike other men, a warrior of great skill and terrible courage, a rebel whose coming had been foretold by gods—had been helpless in the face Elelar's feminine sorcery.

  Now, as she wandered the mountainside gathering the roots and herbs Basimar needed, Mirabar wondered what Elelar was up to. Why hadn't she come again? The torena must know where they were. Did she want Tansen for herself, now that she was free to choose? If so, why hadn't she given up Zimran? Or did she merely want Tansen to want her? Did it feed her pride to know that a man she had once betrayed to Kiloran still longed for her after all these years? Had she sensed him slipping away and visited him at the shrine merely to strengthen her power over him?

  It would almost be a relief to think so, but however much Mirabar disliked the torena, she knew she was not a silly woman. Elelar did nothing without a purpose, and while she might idly charm a man just to satisfy her vanity, she wouldn't truly exert herself without a reason. Why had she come all the way to that Shrine of the Three, soft-eyed, sweet-tongued, and bearing gifts?

  Mirabar was still lost in such thoughts when a voice she had never again expected to hear called out, "Sirana?"

  Najdan!

  She turned to face the direction from which his voice had come. He wasn't close yet. She would have heard him moving through the brush if he were. Najdan was soft-footed, but Mirabar still had the senses of an animal.

  She was on the verge of calling out his name when a chilling thought occurred to her. Since the beginning of Kiloran's feud with Josarian, assassins had returned to the old business of slaughtering Guardians, and any Guardian who hesitated to fight a former ally died instantly. Mirabar had lately heard many such stories being repeated in Sanctuary.

  If Kiloran meant to send anyone after her, then Najdan, whom she had trusted for so long, would be his best choice. The assassin's shouting for her might seem to preclude a sneak attack, but Najdan knew how difficult it was to creep up on her. He'd be more likely to try to ease her suspicions first, and then attack when her guard was down.

  "Sirana!"

  He must know she was here because of his shir; it often quivered in response to her presence. His shouting would alert the sentries guarding Tansen. Should she wait for them? No, she decided. If Najdan had come to kill her, he wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone who tried to protect her. She didn't want to cause other men's deaths by avoiding the inevitable. She would face Najdan at once.

  He was one of Kiloran's finest assassins. Mirabar had spent too much time with him, seen too much, to doubt his skill. However, she had beaten Najdan once before, at Dalishar, and she could do it again. He had lost his fear of her after Kandahar, but she could rekindle it if she had to.

  She wanted to weep, though. Najdan. He had been her shadow, her right arm, her trusted friend. She had missed him since he'd left her on Mount Niran, but she had known since that day that they might well come to this. Assassins could not afford to have conflicting loyalties. When Najdan returned to Kiloran's side, he also returned to the way of life he had chosen many years ago, long before the war. He would do as he was bid, kill whomever Kiloran wanted killed, regardless of his personal feelings. She believed he would be sorry to kill her, but she knew he would not let his sorrow interfere with his duty.

  Must it always be this way?

  "Najdan!" she called, letting the sound of her voice lead him to her. "Over here!"

  She sat down on a fallen tree trunk and blew a circle of fire into life as she formed her plan. She had never killed a man, and she didn't want to start with this
one. Heart crying out in protest, she prepared to slay her former friend.

  She was surprised to hear two people approaching her moments later—and a donkey. She frowned. What was Najdan up to?

  Her doubts and fears fled a moment later to be replaced by bemusement when he appeared in the forest. She had never seen a man who looked less ready for deadly combat. He was carrying a large satchel, leading a burdened donkey, and followed by a woman. The woman was attractive, simply dressed, and about Basimar's age.

  The woman's dark gaze flashed first to Mirabar, whose appearance often startled even those who had been warned about her, and then to the magical fire blazing away. She gasped in fear and moved to Najdan's side. He put his arm around her and murmured something soothing. Mirabar heard him call her "kadriah."

  Najdan wouldn't bring his woman—or all that baggage—along with him if he had come here to assassinate Mirabar. In fact, she realized that he wouldn't have known to seek her here. They were keeping Tansen's whereabouts, and consequently hers, very secret to protect him from Kiloran.

  The explanation seemed obvious: He was bringing his mistress to safety. He knew and trusted Basimar, hence he had chosen her Sanctuary. However, Kandahar was not threatened by the rebels, and Mirabar knew that Najdan had a comfortable house there. Why would he bring his woman here, to a Sanctuary in the heart of Josarian's territory, to seek the protection of a Sister loyal to Josarian?

  "Najdan..." Mirabar rose to her feet, her fears forgotten.

  "Sirana." He crossed his fists and bowed his head. "I thought you would still be at Niran."

  "No."

  "I'm glad," he said. "I must be the one to tell you."

  "What?"

  "Well, first of all..." He met her gaze. "I have been sent to kill you."

  "And?"

  She thought he would say that he couldn't do it, that he had changed, that he had lied to Kiloran so he could get his mistress safely away from the vengeful wrath of the master he was about to betray. She could see in his face that this was all true. Yet he said none of that.