"I don't need protection from Tansen!"
"Do you know he killed his own bloodfather?"
"Leave me a..." Zarien felt like he was falling, but he was still standing. As if the inaccuracy mattered, as if it were reasonable to discuss this now, he said, "Tansen never had a bloodfather."
"Oh, yes, he did. And he killed him."
"No, he..." Zarien frowned. "No."
"Has he never told you why he left Sileria for nine years? The exact length of a Society bloodvow?"
"What does that matter? It's not... I don't care..."
"Kiloran swore a bloodvow against him because Tansen murdered someone Kiloran cared about."
"He..." Zarien didn't want to listen. Shouldn't listen. "He did?"
Searlon nodded. "His own bloodfather."
"No." Zarien shook his head. "He wouldn't do something like that. He believes in... He wouldn't."
"He never told you he had a bloodfather, did he?"
"I... No, but, I don't believe you!"
"Yes, you do," Searlon said, and, by saying it, somehow made it true. "Don't you wonder why he never told you, his own bloodson, that he himself had a bloodfather?"
"I... You're... Why should I believe—"
"And do you know why Tansen killed the man who loved him enough to become his father?"
"You're lying!"
"Because that man was a waterlord's son, Zarien."
His heart was pounding, his blood roaring in his ears. He felt dizzy and sick. He wanted to throw up. Wanted to run away. "You're making this up. Just to make it easy to kill me. So I won't run away or..." He was breathing hard, his head throbbing. Tears misted his eyes, and he fought them.
He knew Searlon didn't need to catch him off guard. If Searlon was as skilled as Najdan, he could have killed Zarien by now, and then just as easily killed or evaded anyone in their vicinity who objected.
"Zarien," said the assassin, "I know what Tansen will do to you when he finds out."
"No." Zarien felt his lips tremble, heard his voice crack.
"His father loved him, too, just as you do," Searlon said sympathetically. "His father believed in him, too. Trusted him, too. And Tansen beat him to death with a yahr."
Zarien felt like he was choking on his own breath.
Did your father die terribly? he had asked Tansen.
Zarien said insistently to Searlon, "Outlookers killed Tansen's father."
The assassin nodded. "His sire. When he was very young."
Tansen's nights were tormented by terrible dreams of his past. Sometimes he cried for his father... His bloodfather?
No, no, no!
The silence was awful. Within it, Zarien again heard everything Searlon had just told him.
I know what Tansen will do to you when he finds out.
"Come with me before it's too late," Searlon urged quietly. "Let us protect you. It's what my master wants more than anything."
"Zarien!"
He flinched at the sound of his name, having forgotten about the world surrounding them. He turned and saw a man in dark, tattered clothing running toward them.
"Najdan?" he murmured incredulously.
"Najdan." Searlon's voice was like ice.
Najdan slowed to a walk as he approached them, his eyes hard as he watched Searlon. To Zarien he said, "Ronall said you would still be alive."
"Ronall's not dead?" Zarien blurted.
Najdan moved to stand between him and Searlon. "A moment later, and the toren would have been wrong."
"This is a pleasant surprise, Najdan," Searlon said. "I've looked forward to killing you ever since you betrayed our master, but you've been very elusive."
"You've searched harder for this helpless boy than you've searched for me," Najdan replied coldly.
"Oh, I doubt he's helpless," Searlon said. "Though I suppose only time will tell. Najdan, have you never noticed anything unusual about him? I would have thought that you, of all people—"
"You talk too much." Najdan's shir appeared in his hand, glittering with the unnatural brilliance of an assassin's unique weapon. "Let's finish this work."
"By all means."
"No!" Zarien cried as Searlon dropped to the ground to kick Najdan's legs out from under him.
Incredibly, Najdan evaded the move, then did a diving roll and nearly gutted Searlon—who hit Najdan with his elbow, then rolled on top of him with his shir raised. Zarien didn't even know where Searlon's shir had come from or when he'd reached for it.
Najdan punched Searlon with the hilt of his shir, then the two of them rolled over and over on the ground, struggling in silence. Zarien became aware of people screaming all around them, gathering to watch. No one interfered, though. It would be deadly to intervene. Besides, these two men were assassins. This was their way. This had always been their way.
Searlon and Najdan were both like Tansen when they fought, their faces revealing no emotion, their concentration fierce, their moves fast and effective. Zarien tried to think of a way to make them stop, since he didn't want either of them to die because of him. He was afraid to shout or plead, let alone come between them, lest it distract one of them and give the other a deadly advantage.
For a terrible moment, it seemed Searlon would win as he pinned Najdan to the ground and moved his blade to the other man's throat. Then Najdan's legs rose to grasp Searlon's neck between his ankles while he heaved his body, and Searlon flew backward. Both men rose to their feet and started circling each other.
"You've made bad choices, sriliah," Searlon said with open contempt.
"Not as bad as murdering Josarian's sister in Sanctuary," Najdan said with equal disdain.
"It was distasteful," Searlon replied, "but less so than betraying Kiloran must have been."
"It was also foolish. Sileria will never forgive what you did."
"What we gained—"
"Was nothing," Najdan said.
"I see Mirabar doesn't confide—"
"I see you don't know the truth." Najdan's smile was cold. "You killed the wrong woman."
Searlon was disconcerted enough for Najdan to surprise him with a sudden attack, but the advantage was only momentary. Najdan retreated again, and the two of them fell silent as they engaged in a deadly dance of feints, counters, stabs, and passes. Zarien felt dizzy and realized he was forgetting to breathe.
Oh, please, Dar, please, make them stop.
Najdan was older, and he was the one who started tiring first. If Zarien could see it, then surely Searlon could see it. Indeed, his increasingly confident expression suggested that he knew time was now on his side.
"I will not..." Najdan was panting now. "...let you kill... Tansen's son."
"He's not Tansen's son." Searlon's smile held malicious satisfaction. "You don't know the truth either, do you?"
Najdan looked distracted. "What truth?"
But Searlon had seen that brief moment of distraction and made his move. Najdan stiffened and made an awful sound when Searlon's shir slid past his guard and plunged into his belly. His hands flailed limply behind his back for a blurry moment. Zarien tried to shout, but only choking sounds came out of his mouth.
"The boy," Searlon murmured to Najdan, "is—"
Najdan's left hand moved, and before Zarien realized what had happened, Searlon staggered backwards, eyes wide with shock, his hand clasped to his throat. Blood seeped out between his fingers.
Najdan fell to his knees. "You always were," he said weakly to Searlon, "too confident once you had made your killing blow."
"Najdan!" Zarien ran to him and—stupidly—tried to haul him to his feet.
"Stay back, boy!" Najdan snapped. "He's not dead yet."
That was true, but Searlon's death didn't take long. Zarien clung to Najdan as Searlon collapsed and a river of blood poured from the broad slit in his neck. His eyes remained open, turning dull and blank as his life ended.
"When your hands flailed like that," Zarien said hoarsely to Najdan, now understanding
what had happened too quickly for him to see. "You were shifting your shir to the hand he thought was harmless once he'd stabbed you."
Najdan sank lower, starting to double over. "I was getting too tired. He'd have succeeded if I hadn't... done something... extreme."
"You let him stab you on purpose?"
"It... distracted him..." Najdan fell slowly onto his side, then curled around the wound in his belly. "I swore to Tansen... wouldn't let Searlon kill you."
Zarien started crying. "He didn't want to kill me! You didn't have to do this! Najdan! Najdan!"
Blood was spreading out from Najdan's body, soaking the ground around him.
"Get help!" Zarien shouted to no one in particular as he tried to get a look at the wound. "Get a Sister!"
"A Sister... no good..." Najdan muttered, his eyes looking dull and unfocused. "Shir..."
"Najdan, no!" Zarien howled.
"Zarien! Is that you?"
He looked up, numbly recognizing Tansen's voice. "Father! I'm here! Help! Father!"
A moment later, Tansen shoved his way through the crowd of people. "Zarien!"
"They fought! I didn't know how to stop them!" Zarien babbled as Tansen took him by the shoulders and stared in shock at Najdan. "And then Najdan let him... let him... What do we do? Father, what do we—"
"Najdan!" a woman screamed.
She rushed forward and bent over the assassin, her red hair gleaming fiercely in this hazy light. "No! Noooo!"
"Sir...ana..." Najdan's blood-drenched hand grasped hers as she kept wailing in denial of his death.
"I didn't want them to fight!" Zarien cried. "Get a Sister! Someone get a—"
Those fierce golden eyes suddenly turned upon him. "No. Not a Sister." Mirabar rose to her feet, staring at him and Tansen as she panted with agitation. "It's a shir wound."
"But—"
"Like the one Tansen had. The one that healed, as if by magic." Her gaze fixed on Tansen. "Najdan thought it was water magic."
Tansen said, "But we don't know what—"
"What was different in your life that day?" Mirabar demanded, her voice deep and harsh. "What can't we explain?"
"Mira—"
"This boy!" She seized Zarien's arm, pulled him to the ground, and placed his hand over Najdan's wound. "What happened when Tansen's wound healed?"
"I don't know," he said, his mind whirling with panic. "It just—"
"What did you do?" she screamed
"Um..."
"Exactly what did you do?" she said more coherently.
"I was... washing the wound. Yes, that's right, washing the wound with water and a cloth."
Mirabar sank her teeth into her sleeve, yanked hard, and tore off a long strip of dirty material.
Tansen said, "Mirabar..."
"Water," she snapped at him.
Tansen handed her his waterskin. She gave the cloth and the waterskin to Zarien, who soaked the cloth and started cleaning the wound. Najdan groaned.
"Then what?" Mirabar prodded.
"I remember that the blood wouldn't stop flowing."
So he pressed down on Najdan's wound now, as he had pressed down on Tansen's wound then, willing it to stop bleeding. But the assassin's blood wouldn't stop flowing, just as Tansen's hadn't.
"And?" Mirabar's voice was dark with desperation.
"I..." What did I do then? "I prayed!"
"Pray now," she ordered.
"Yes." Pray.
His heart pounding with fear and confusion, Zarien begged Dar to make the wound stop bleeding. He prayed to all the gods of the wind and sea to save Najdan. He admonished the assassin to heal.
"Sirana," Najdan rasped weakly.
Heal, please, heal, Zarien begged in silence.
A chilling heat passed through him, a cold fire that made him shiver even as it burned him. He inhaled sharply, remembering this sensation from the moment Tansen had healed. He drew his hand away as an icy mist rose from the wound, a crystalline glow that shimmered in the hazy air.
Zarien watched with a mingled sense of relief and dread as it faded away, leaving only Najdan's flesh in its wake. He saw Mirabar's stunned expression as she stared at the result. The life-stealing shir wound was gone. Only a silvery scar was left in its place.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Knowledge is hollow.
—Kintish Proverb
Tansen gaped in stunned silence at Zarien, who knelt in the blood-drenched sand next to Mirabar and Najdan.
Najdan thought it was water magic...
All around them, the sea-born started chattering excitedly.
Water magic...
"No," Tansen said, even though it was a stupid thing to say now.
Zarien looked up at him, that young, tattooed face confused and afraid. "Father..."
Tansen heard the pleading in the boy's voice, but he was too shocked to respond.
Mirabar said hoarsely, "Najdan? How do you feel?"
"Better," was the weak response. "Just..."
"You've lost a lot of blood." Mirabar clutched his hand in both of hers and raised it to her cheek, inadvertently smearing her face with his blood. "You need to rest now."
"Thank..." Najdan tried to lift his head, but gave up the effort after a moment. "What... happened?"
"Zarien healed you," Mirabar said, brushing Najdan's hair away from his face.
Najdan frowned vaguely. "Shir... wound."
"Can anything heal a shir wound besides water magic?" she asked him.
"Only... time," he replied.
And time, they all knew, wouldn't have healed the deadly wound that Searlon had given Najdan. Only...
"Water magic," Mirabar said with certainty, looking at Zarien in wonder. "It was you. And it was you who saved Tansen's life that day."
"No!" Zarien cried as if accused of a terrible deed. "It's because Tansen is the sea king! That's why—"
"No, it's not... Tansen," Najdan said, sounding weary but more clear-headed. "It's Ronall."
"Ronall?" Zarien bleated.
Ronall? Tansen thought.
Najdan said, "I saw... it happen. Lascari... all saw. We were there. He is... the one."
Mirabar gasped and looked up at Tansen, who felt as if he were at the other end of a long, dark tunnel. "That's what we saw!" she exclaimed. "That's what was happening in the sea. The birth—rebirth?—of the sea king!"
Najdan muttered, "Made me feel... sick to my stomach."
"The sea king..." Zarien murmured, looking out to sea with a shocked expression. "Ronall."
"You see, Zarien?" Mirabar put a bloody hand on the boy's arm. "It was you who healed Tansen." She gestured to Najdan and added, "Just like this. You're gifted... with water magic."
"No." Zarien sounded panicky.
"That's why..." Tansen's voice sounded hollow and his tongue felt clumsy. "Why you always know where there's water..."
"Father, please..."
"You can always find it," Tansen said, remembering. "No matter how dry the season or how unfamiliar the surroundings."
"You just can't smell it because you're a drylander!" Zarien insisted. "I don't have any special power!"
"Yes." Tansen rubbed a hand over the place where Zarien had healed his own shir wound. "You do. And the Olvar... Fires of Dar! The Olvar knew it."
Zarien rose to his feet, shaking his head. "No, he was just a crazy old—"
"You felt strange down in the tunnels. So close to all their water magic," Tansen said with growing conviction. "Because you felt things there that an ordinary person can't sense. That I can't sense."
Tears gathered in Zarien's eyes. "It's not my fault!"
Mirabar quickly said, "No one is blaming you for anything, Zarien. This is a gift. This is—"
"He doesn't think so," Zarien told her, gesturing to Tansen.
"I'm... very surprised." Tansen congratulated himself on such restrained understatement. "This isn't what I, uh..."
"Zarien," Mirabar said, giving Tansen a warning look
as she rose to her feet. "Have there ever been any waterlords... er, I mean, water magic among the sea-born? It's a gift which can skip so many generations that someone like Baran can inherit it without even having known it was in his bloodline, but—"
"How do you know that?" Tansen asked.
"I've been living with a waterlord for a while now," she reminded him. "I know many things about water magic that I didn't know before." She rubbed a hand across her gently swelling belly. "And I'm learning more every day."
"I've never heard of water magic among the sea-born," Zarien said, sounding tragic.
Najdan spoke from his prostrate position. "Your grandfather... might know. He's very—"
"No!" Zarien said emphatically.
"Your grandfather," Tansen breathed. "We should talk to him."
"No!" Zarien repeated.
Najdan said, "Linyan is be nearby, with Ronall. They—"
"No!"
They all looked at Zarien.
"I'll talk to him alone," Tansen said. "You don't have to see him or sp—"
"I've seen him," Zarien ground out. "We've been living on his boat for days."
That surprised Tansen. "Have you talked to him, then?"
The boy's complexion darkened under his tattoos. "Yes."
Tansen frowned. "You've found out the truth?"
"Let's go," Zarien said suddenly.
"The truth..." Najdan repeated.
"Stay out of this!" Zarien warned the assassin.
Mirabar asked, "Out of what?"
Najdan raised a hand to Mirabar, who helped him rise to a sitting position and knelt on the ground to support him. Then he asked Zarien, "Why didn't Searlon... want to kill you?"
Tansen glanced in confusion at the dead assassin. "What?"
"He had plenty of time," Najdan said to Zarien. "But he didn't do it. And you told me he didn't intend to do it."
Zarien just stared mutely at the ground.
"Searlon said..." Najdan paused.
"What?" Tansen prodded, feeling bewildered and slow-witted.
The assassin finished, "That he knew the truth about Zarien."
It was like being slapped without provocation. "What does Searlon know about my son that I don't? What truth?" His gaze sharpened as he looked at Zarien, who continued avoiding his eyes. "The truth about your parents?"
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