Oh, wouldn't that be just perfect?
Perhaps Mirabar had seen a way to get rid of Elelar and to protect the true ruler from Cheylan at the same time.
Elelar felt a little depressed as she considered this.
Maybe this was her punishment, after all. Perhaps she was meant to suffer long and die horribly here, buried beneath rock and lava after months of despair, loneliness, and discomfort.
If this is my punishment, Dar, then I will endure it... Only do I have to endure Cheylan, too? That seems too much to inflict on anyone.
In any event, whatever Mirabar believed, Cheylan obviously believed he had just sired the next Yahrdan of Sileria, so he wouldn't kill Elelar until the child was born. And anything could happen before then. Surely someone would start to look for her; if not Mirabar, then Faradar, Tansen, or Toren Varian and the Alliance. Even some of her relatives—Elelar was the wealthiest of the Hasnari, thanks to her marriage to a Valdan, and sooner or later one of the family would want money from her, especially in these hard times.
Of course, she'd have a better chance of being rescued, or of escaping on her own, if she could get Cheylan to move her to a more accessible place. Which was precisely why he wouldn't want to do it. She'd have to think of a way to sway him. The obvious one would be to convince him she was in danger of miscarrying—or of dying in a massive eruption or earthquake—if she stayed here.
Elelar looked around and knew that she wouldn't even have to pretend when she broached the subject with him.
Then she put a hand over her stomach, still amazed at how strongly she could feel new life glowing there. Did all women feel this way after conceiving? If so, none had ever mentioned it. This was, she suspected, an extraordinary child.
She smiled wryly, supposing that many expectant mothers thought the very same thing.
Expectant mother... Me!
It seemed so strange. She had believed herself barren and, given the life she had led—as well as her recent expectations of dying soon—she had never regretted it as another woman might. After all, she had never lain with a man whose child she wanted to conceive, least of all her husband's.
Ronall...
She wondered briefly if he was still alive. Now, for the first time, she genuinely hoped so. If she escaped Cheylan and survived, then bearing this child would be less complicated if she could claim it was her husband's. Ronall would acknowledge it as his own; Elelar would insist.
A child...
She let herself wonder if it was true; if she really was chosen to be the mother of a child foretold in prophecy and destined to become the first Yahrdan in a thousand years. The first ruler of the newly-freed nation of Sileria.
Why would You choose me for that, Dar?
If it was true, then for the sake of Sileria, Elelar had to survive. Cheylan must not become the most powerful person in Sileria when his son took his rightful place.
Elelar smoothed her dirty silk tunic over her stomach as a new thought occurred to her. Even if she was destined to bear the Yahrdan, could Dar really intend Cheylan, of all men, to be his father?
Ahhh...
What if Cheylan was only half right?
Elelar looked down at her abdomen. Maybe this glow she felt was just an indication that the child would be a Guardian, like its father. The more she thought about it, the more possible that seemed. People as different from the norm as Mirabar and Cheylan were must also have been very different in the womb.
In which case, if Cheylan was right about the prophecy, maybe Elelar's true destiny was to survive this incident, defeat him, and go on to bear another child.
I have to get out of here.
She forced some more food into her mouth, trying to cultivate whatever strength she could, and set her mind to planning.
Maybe none of it was true, but if it was... if Dar needed her to complete Sileria's destiny as a free and powerful nation, then Elelar knew she must defeat Cheylan and survive.
Chapter Nineteen
Let your love be like misty rain,
gentle in coming but flooding the river.
—Kintish Proverb
Clean, groomed, and looking more rested, Mirabar joined Tansen that night around a small fire he had made in the shadows at the edge of the ruined village. The heavy reddish glow of the moons blazed through the smoke and ash that filled the sky, but it had been a while since anyone in Sileria had seen the stars. Meanwhile, those colored lights and dancing clouds continued to illuminate the snow-capped summit of Mount Darshon, reminding everyone who could see it that their fate was always, ultimately, up to Dar. Here in Gamalan, so close to Darshon, the nights weren't really dark anymore, so bright was the light from Dar's eerie display.
"Hungry?" Tansen asked Mirabar as she came to his side.
"I've just eaten. Faradar brought me something." She paused and added, "Elelar's maid is very efficient."
He smiled. "You sound annoyed."
"I'm not accustomed to being waited on. It makes me feel..." Mirabar shrugged. "Watched. Spied on. How does she know exactly when I wake up? When I'm hungry? When I want to rest? When I want to, er, dismount and find a bush?"
"Don't servants behave that way at Belitar?"
She snorted. "No, servants at Belitar talk back, quarrel, and usually disappear when there's work to be done."
"Ah. Well, if that's what you're used to, I suppose Faradar would be a little unnerving." Tansen brushed off a smooth rock and offered her a seat on it, then knelt on the ground next to her.
"The torena," Mirabar said, "must be far more helpless than I ever realized if she needs someone like that to be with her all of the time."
"Toreni are raised to expect such service."
"I doubt she's getting it now," Mirabar said gloomily.
"No," he agreed. "But it seems likely she's at least still alive, if not happy or comfortable."
"Yes. Cheylan can't kill her. Not for quite some time."
"We'll find her before then." Tansen fed some more wood to the fire, though there was no real reason to do so now that Mirabar was here; with a single breath, she could make it twice the size it was now. Still, tending the flames gave him something to do with the hands that wanted so much to reach for her. "While you were resting, I sent some men off to gather whatever information they could about Cheylan. If he's anywhere in the district, chances are he hasn't traveled completely unnoticed. Not him."
"That's a better plan than anything I've been able to come up with so far," she said.
"I think you're right. The place you're describing must be here in the east. Close to Darshon."
"Lava flowing," she murmured.
"We'll find them." He hoped it was true.
They were both silent for a while, lost in their thoughts.
Mirabar finally said. "Najdan can protect Zarien. He has protected me from terrible dangers, you know."
They both knew that Mirabar was not as helpless as Zarien was. Still, the sea was Zarien's native ground, so to speak, so perhaps he would be less helpless there than he always seemed on land, if danger found him.
"I know," Tansen said slowly, "that you would rather have had Najdan with you when you face Cheylan."
She shrugged. "Perhaps this is the way it's meant to be."
Their gazes locked. "The two of us?"
"Sword and shield." Mirabar's expression crumpled a moment later, and he knew that she was thinking of how they had failed Josarian.
Though it was a subject that wouldn't cheer her up, he nonetheless said, "I'm sorry, I've never been able to learn what happened to your teacher, Tashinar."
"Neither have I," she said quietly. "It's almost as if she's neither alive nor dead."
"Like Josarian," he muttered. Caught in the agony of the White Dragon as long as Kiloran lived.
"Perhaps very much like Josarian." She shook her head, her expression sad and frustrated. "I don't know. I can't tell."
They were silent again. And, as if sensing the tension which
surrounded and grew between them, no one else camping in these sad ruins attempted to approach them.
After a while, she said, "So this is Gamalan."
"A long time ago it was," Tansen replied. "Now it's just... the past that clings to us all in Sileria."
In the shifting glow created by the dancing lights around Darshon's summit, Tansen's gaze traveled to the spot where, so long ago, he had seen Armian fight and kill the Outlookers who had ambushed them here.
He knew from the gossip among the Moynari and Marendari here that some people feared Gamalan was haunted. Tansen knew it was, but he said nothing.
And over there, he thought, looking elsewhere, is where Armian urged me to kill for the first time, and I couldn't do it.
"Nothing good has ever happened here," he said quietly. "Nothing."
Gamalan was a bitter place. It always had been. It was the worst of Sileria.
"You're wrong," said Mirabar. "You were born here."
He heard the warmth and affection in her voice, heard the things he longed to hear from her. He couldn't look at her, because he knew that if he did, he wouldn't be able to bear not touching her. And she was another man's wife.
So he just stared into the fire and said, "It's neutral territory. No one left alive can call it their home. Not even me. Not anymore." There was nothing left for him here, not since the day he had found his family dead and then followed Armian away from here and toward his fate. "So it's the only place I could think of where everyone would agree to come for a truce meeting."
"Yes, that makes sense." Then she asked, "Whose house am I sleeping in?"
"I don't remember," he admitted.
"Where was your house?"
He nodded to a hillside full of rocky ruins. "Up there. But they've all fallen down and tumbled together. I can't tell which one was ours anymore."
After a long moment, she sighed and said, "There's a lot of sadness here."
Recovered from his moment of uncontrollable craving for her, Tansen glanced her way. She turned her head, and he was briefly chilled to see how unerringly her gaze went to the spot where the victims of the Valdani massacre had lain ten years ago. Mirabar's posture was rigid, and she was as still as an animal scenting danger. He wondered what she sensed there, but didn't want to ask, didn't want to call up more of the memories that haunted his nightmares. Not now. Not tonight.
Then her attention shifted to another spot which was scorched from a recent funeral pyre. "That must be where Semeon's body was burned, along with his entire Guardian circle." She made a soft, grieving sound and covered her face with a hand. "I sent Cheylan to protect him."
"The Guardian boy with red hair?" When she nodded without looking up, he said, "You think Cheylan killed him?"
"Of course he did!" Her voice was harsh with self-condemnation.
"The boy was killed in a Society ambush." Tansen suddenly realized what that meant. "Ah. And Cheylan has been plotting with Verlon."
"Yes. Verlon may have killed Semeon, but I'm sure Cheylan is the one who's responsible. The one who told Verlon where the boy was and when he was vulnerable." Mirabar dragged her hand down her face now and let him see the tears in her glowing eyes. "And I'm the one who told Cheylan—"
"Mira, he'd have killed the boy anyhow."
"You don't know that. Maybe he—"
"Of course he would. What Baran said to you is right." Her husband's name slithered between them like a poisonous snake. "Cheylan has betrayed everyone, and he has done so with as little risk to himself as possible, right up until he abducted Elelar. Just knowing what anyone in Sileria knows about your prophecy, he would have decided to kill the boy. Cheylan wouldn't have taken the chance of Semeon's being the one you foresaw. Maybe he wouldn't even have taken the risk of letting the boy grow up to be as powerful as you."
Tansen thought it would be tactless to mention how profoundly relieved he was that Mirabar had long ago decided—and had convinced Cheylan—that Zarien was not this child of fire and water and sorrow whom she sought. Tansen had always disliked Cheylan, but even he had never suspected the Guardian was capable of killing a child. Now that he knew better, he gave silent thanks that at least it hadn't been his child.
He studied the way Mirabar's fire-red hair glowed in the golden light of the ordinary fire he had built and realized how much else he was thankful for, too. "Cheylan might well have killed you, too, except that he has no gift of prophecy himself."
"Maybe he does but just doesn't tell—"
"No, I don't think he'd have tried so hard to win your trust if he hadn't needed you and your visions so much."
"I should never have trusted him," she moaned.
"No, but, as Kiloran says, mistakes are so easily made. Cheylan was very good at winning trust where he wanted it. You, Kiloran, Searlon, Verlon, Semeon, other Guardians. Even Elelar, who is not prone to trust, apparently trusted him when she left her estate with him. He's a shrewd deceiver." Tansen paused and added, "He and Elelar might have found a lot in common if he had tried courting her instead of abducting her."
Despite her tears, she choked on a laugh. "He probably would have preferred that, but he knew he had very little time." After a moment she asked, "Why her, do you suppose?"
"Don't your visions tell you why she was chosen?"
Mirabar shook her head.
Tansen thought it over and admitted, "In many ways, there could be no better choice." Her appalled gaze made him continue, "She's an educated aristocrat who understands political scheming, balancing power, playing factions against each other, and mixing lies with truth to achieve a goal. These are all things even a ruler chosen by Dar and foretold in prophecy will have to learn and understand to rule Sileria effectively."
"She's also..." Mirabar rubbed her face and grimaced. "A great heroine of the rebellion, loved by the people. And I suppose the toreni might not accept a shallah as Sileria's ruler, even if the Guardians insisted."
"It would be difficult," he agreed. "Elelar also has respect and influence in the Alliance. Although no one can claim ultimate power in Sileria without our support, it's also true that it probably can't be done without their support, either."
"And if the father is descended from both Daurion and Marjan..." She frowned and didn't finish the thought.
Cheylan was probably descended from Marjan through Verlon, Mirabar had told Tansen. He hadn't found the revelation about Cheylan's relationship with Verlon that astonishing, having seen the mingled familiarity and enmity between those two during the rebellion. Though it never would have occurred to him, it certainly answered the vague question which had existed in his mind about those two.
Then he remembered Ronall. "I wonder how Elelar's husband will take this news when Najdan finds him." Tansen had been so worried about Zarien that he hadn't even thought of this until now.
"Elelar's Valdani husband..." Mirabar gasped. "Surely Dar wouldn't choose a Valdan to be involved in this?"
"You know much better than I what Dar might or might not do," he reminded her. "But Ronall could well be another reason Elelar was chosen."
"A Valdan?"
"He's half-Silerian," Tansen pointed out. "And he looks and sounds Silerian. But having a Valdan connected to this child could help improve our relationship with the Valdani—and, after all, we don't want them trying to invade us again."
"You mean they'll view him as an ally?"
"It would be very convenient for Sileria if they did."
"But if he's not really the child's father—"
"But if the Valdani thought he was—"
"Ah." Mirabar nodded. "Then they'd be more likely to leave us in peace."
"Especially since Ronall has begun trying to save the remaining Valdani in Sileria from being massacred. The Imperial Council will like that." Tansen thought it over and added, "Silerians might even obey Ronall if they thought he was father to the Yahrdan."
"No more killings," she murmured. "But I thought Toren Ronall was a drunkard and a fool
?"
"Everyone seems to know that," Tansen muttered. "And, in truth, he is. Well, a drunkard, anyhow. But a fool? I don't know. He often seems that way, but now I think Zarien was right all along. Ronall is mostly just very unhappy." He shrugged and added, "And loving Elelar hasn't helped."
"He loves her?" Mirabar sounded surprised—which was understandable, considering how often and openly Elelar had cuckolded her husband.
"Oh, yes. He loves her, all right. Anyone can see that in him." Tansen sighed. "Meanwhile, she doesn't even want to be in the same country with him and probably wishes he was dead."
Suddenly the air hummed with renewed tension, and Tansen felt the unasked questions hovering between them. Knowing he was inviting another pointless argument, he nonetheless ventured, "So, in light of your visions, it's evidently a good thing I didn't kill Elelar after Josarian died."
"Yes." Apparently she didn't want to argue about that anymore, either. "If only Cheylan hadn't convinced me to let him go after Elelar alone. If only I'd gone. Or if only I'd sent assassins with him, as Baran suggested."
"Cheylan would have just tricked you or killed them," he pointed out.
"I had finally accepted my duty... even though it meant having that woman in the same home with me." Mirabar gave a watery sigh. "But if I hadn't been so stubborn, resisted for so long... If I had accepted my duty sooner, before Cheylan appeared at Belitar, maybe everything would be different now, and Elelar would be at Belitar now, where Baran and I could protect her."
Tansen couldn't help asking, "Would Baran have protected her?"
"Well, not her, I suppose. But Baran protects Belitar, and I certainly wouldn't have let her leave Belitar while the Society survives in Sileria. Elelar would have been safe there until I knew what to do."
Of course. Kiloran would kill Elelar if he knew the truth. Still, Tansen couldn't resist asking, "But doesn't the Society survive at Belitar, too?"
"Not really." She shrugged. "Baran chose our side in this war, and his men follow him loyally."
"Who's to say Baran won't choose something else once Kiloran is dead?"
The Destroyer Goddess Page 35