The White Dragon

by Laura Resnick

  Yes, Kiloran had learned his lesson well. His fury over Baran's behavior at Emeldar that day must not cloud his judgment or incite him to impetuous acts. Even now, Searlon was attempting to learn just how ill Baran really was. If Baran was going to die soon on his own, if patience was all that was needed to finally defeat him, Kiloran could wait. After all these years, to win with no effort would be the sweetest victory of all.

  Meanwhile, he would let Baran make himself useful. After all, bringing Shaljir to its knees would indeed be easier if he had Baran's help in holding back the Idalar River. And if Baran killed Mirabar, then that was one less task Kiloran must accomplish.

  Another long, piercing scream of pain and anguish floated through the watery halls and echoed around the palace.

  It had been going on since last night, and Kiloran, whose head was starting to throb, had had enough of it.

  When he tried hard enough, he could hear the Firebringer's perpetual agony through the barrier of death. The extraordinary means of Josarian's demise, the powerful sorcery needed to defeat him, ensured that the two of them were linked for the rest of Kiloran's life. That was the way of the White Dragon. Fortunately, this mystical bond rarely intruded on Kiloran's thoughts. Whereas it was becoming impossible to ignore the Guardian's howls of pain. Feeling his temper fray, Kiloran sent for Dyshon, the assassin who was interrogating the young woman.

  "If she hasn't talked by now," Kiloran advised Dyshon, when he appeared, "then she knows nothing."

  Dyshon looked tired and a little gray-faced. Well, interrogation was unpleasant business.

  Dyshon asked, "You want me to kill her, siran?"

  "Yes. There's no point in persisting."

  "So we're going to question the older one?"

  Kiloran nodded. "Yes, it's time to revive her."

  "I regret, siran," Dyshon said, "that I have been unable to make the younger prisoner useful to you."

  Kiloran shook his head. "Not your fault, Dyshon. If the woman knows nothing, then she cannot be made to tell anything." He sighed. "It's a pity, though. Only two Guardians captured, and one clearly useless."

  "With respect, siran, perhaps it was a mistake to entrust the capture to another waterlord's assassins."

  "Ah, mistakes, they are so easily made," Kiloran replied philosophically. "Geriden assured me he and his men could handle it. And despite coming under attack while engaged in their ambush, his men did manage to bring back two Guardians, which was the minimum number I requested."

  "Has there been any word about the hunt for Mirabar?"

  "Not yet," said Kiloran. "But I remain hopeful."

  The battle at Niran had, unfortunately, turned into a chaotic bloodbath. Just when Geriden and his assassins felt confident of killing all but four Guardians and hauling away their captives without interference, Mirabar and an unspecified number of men—Najdan among them, no doubt, Kiloran thought with a twinge of fury—had attacked the ambushers. Consequently, Geriden had lost half the men he'd taken to Niran, and only two Guardians had been brought to Kandahar. One of Geriden's assassins had seen Mirabar, illuminated in the dark night by her own deadly fire; her demonic appearance was unmistakable. It was lucky the assassin had been prudent enough to retreat and remain alive, rather than attacking and dying as others had done, or Kiloran might never have known exactly what happened that night.

  Or that Mirabar had, quite unexpectedly, been in the region. Far from Tansen, whose last known location was Zilar. Far from Dalishar, which was virtually impregnable.

  Geriden hadn't thought to track Mirabar at the time, a stupid mistake which ensured he received a blistering verbal attack from Kiloran upon arriving at Kandahar. The mediocrity of Geriden's sorcery was only one reason he remained such a minor waterlord.

  Kiloran knew with regret that it was almost certainly too late to track Mirabar now. Najdan would understand the risks of her being seen, and he'd have ensured her quick disappearance after the battle. However, one must try. So Kiloran had assigned every assassin he could spare to go search for her.

  Mirabar's surprise appearance on Mount Niran led to a number of questions, all of them still unanswered. Was she there that night by chance or intent? Had someone betrayed Kiloran and warned Mirabar of his plans? Although this was a disturbing possibility which must be investigated, Kiloran was at least convinced that the Guardians themselves had not been warned. They were completely unprepared for such an assault, according to Geriden, and the ambush would have gone exactly as planned if not for Mirabar's arrival. And if Mirabar was there that night by chance, then what had brought her to Mount Niran now? What could have been worth such a risk to her safety?

  Kiloran hoped the older Guardian, the one they hadn't yet begun to interrogate, had some answers. In any event, she promised to be more rewarding than the young one. Whereas the young one was relatively helpless, the old one's fire sorcery was so powerful that the assassins had only been able to capture and transport her by keeping her unconscious.

  Such a powerful elder was likely to know the things Kiloran wanted to know, though extracting the information would be a challenge, one which would require his personal attention. Here at Kandahar, Kiloran used potions acquired from the Sisterhood to keep her weak and befuddled until such time as it was obvious—as it now was—that they'd have to risk reviving her.

  "Yes," Kiloran concluded, nodding to Dyshon. "Let's begin questioning her."

  "They've taken the two Guardians to Kandahar," Najdan advised Mirabar. "We followed them as far as we could." He took a breath and concluded quietly, "I regret, sirana, that I cannot retrieve Tashinar from Kiloran's lair. She is lost."

  Mirabar was vaguely aware of the way Basimar gasped at Najdan's statement. She herself felt the words—she is lost—like blows, but at least they were real. At least she knew.

  Tashinar is lost.

  Each word was a blow that drove Mirabar to her knees.

  "Tashinar," she murmured brokenly, too shocked at first to feel the full weight of her grief.

  "You cannot go after her," Najdan said. "You must accept that."

  Once upon a time, Mirabar had invaded Kiloran's underwater palace and saved Tansen's life; probably Josarian's, too, that fateful night. She couldn't do so again, though. Even now, as she started weeping for Tashinar, Najdan was telling her that Kiloran, aware that she'd been at Mount Niran, already had assassins prowling the mountains in search of her. It was very unlikely she could reach Kandahar alive, and quite certain that Kiloran would kill her there if she did.

  Mirabar heard the words, understood the danger, and recognized her duty. But she could only collapse facedown onto the ground and wail, "Tashinar!"

  Now she felt it. Now it assaulted her in hot waves of anguish.

  "We must leave immediately, sirana," Najdan said. "Or else we'll become trapped here."

  "No," she cried. "No! No! No!"

  "When they learn you're here," Najdan said urgently, trying to pull her up, "they'll make it impossible for you to leave."

  She shoved him away. Her fingers clutched fistfuls of dirt as she lay on the ground. "Tashinar... No!" In Kiloran's keeping. In Kiloran's lair. In the grip of Kiloran's cruelty.

  "You will be cut off from everyone else," Najdan warned, raising his voice. "A prisoner of this Sanctuary."

  He tugged on her, forcing her to rise to her knees.

  "Go back for her!" she wailed. "Get her!"

  "No."

  "You can get her!" Mirabar hit the assassin. "You know Kandahar. You know Kiloran's secrets! Go back! Get her!" She hit him harder.

  Najdan's face was lined and gray. His eyes glittered darkly. "I can't. No one can."

  "Nooooo..."

  "We must go now," he insisted.

  He tried to drag her to her feet. She lashed out in blind, animal pain, fire shimmering over her skin, burning him so he'd release her. She heard him draw a sharp breath as he dropped her.

  Then Haydar's frightened voice: "Najdan!"

 
"It's all right," he said. "She won't hurt me."

  "She just did!"

  "Go get ready," he ordered. "All of you. We're leaving now."

  "Tashinar..." Mirabar sobbed.

  Najdan knelt beside her again. "We will avenge her," he promised.

  "I don't want vengeance," she wept. "I want Tashinar!"

  His hands were gentler now. He pulled her upright, pushed her hair off her face, and then embraced her. "I know," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

  Tansen, followed by Zarien, entered the old Kintish temple in Zilar early in the morning, meaning to attend to a few final details before he departed for Shaljir. He looked questioningly at Radyan, who awaited him there, wondering what could have put such a big grin on his face.

  "You'll never guess," Radyan said, "who's brought the latest messages from Dalishar."

  Tansen glanced in the direction Radyan indicated and saw a friend emerge from the shadows. "Emelen!"

  Josarian's brother-in-law crossed the vast temple to embrace him in greeting. "Praise Dar that you, at least, are safe," Emelen said.

  "When did you get to Dalishar?" Tansen asked.

  "A few days ago," Emelen replied. "Did you know that Lann slept through that first big earthquake we had? Let's remember never to leave him on sentry duty."

  Tansen grinned, introduced Emelen to Zarien, then advised the boy they'd be here a little longer than expected. Seeing Zarien's impatient expression, Tansen distracted him by suggesting, "Go get something to eat. Here's some money." As expected, the ploy worked, and Zarien promised to leave him in peace long enough to talk with Emelen.

  "I've got Guardians to deal with," Radyan said, excusing himself.

  "Where's Jalilar?" Tansen asked, sitting down with Emelen.

  "In Sanctuary, and not happy about it."

  That didn't surprise Tansen. Josarian's sister had never liked confinement or being separated from her husband. "How is she?"

  "Taking Josarian's death hard," Emelen admitted, his own face sad. "She knew it could come. We all did. But they were close."

  "I know," Tansen murmured, remembering.

  "Their parents are dead. Now he's gone." Emelen sighed. "To be honest, we fought badly before I left her in Sanctuary. She says..." Emelen shrugged and looked sadder. "Well, we still have no child, and with her family dead, there is only me. She said I could either stay there with her or take her with me, but I couldn't leave her alone in Sanctuary and go running off to die without her."

  "So what did you do? You just said that she's in Sanc—"

  "I left in the middle of the night. While she slept. And I, uh..." Emelen cleared his throat awkwardly. "I made the Sister give her something to keep her asleep for a full day, so she couldn't possibly follow me."

  "Fires of Dar."

  "Uh-huh."

  "I wouldn't be you for all the diamonds in Alizar," Tansen said with feeling.

  "No," Emelen agreed.

  "She'll make you very sorry for that."

  "I know." Emelen made a frustrated gesture. "I just didn't know what else to do. There was no time to keep fighting about it. I knew you'd need me to get back as soon as possible."

  "I did," Tansen admitted.

  "But Jalilar wouldn't stay there. Not unless I made it impossible for her to follow me. And she couldn't come. She mustn't. Who knows what Kiloran will do to the Firebringer's sister if she leaves Sanctuary?"

  Jalilar was a strong and sensible woman, and Tansen was certain she understood what was at stake. "But the war has taken everything from her," he said, thinking aloud. "Her family, her village, her friends, her way of life..."

  According to the customs of the shallaheen, Tansen would, as her dead brother's bloodbrother, be responsible for her if anything happened to her husband now. He would protect her, but it wasn't enough, he knew, not after all that Jalilar had lost. Yes, she could certainly be forgiven for quarreling with Emelen, whom she loved passionately, about leaving her behind in safety while he want off to probable death at Tansen's side.

  Whether or not Emelen, however, would be forgiven for employing such drastic measures to protect and desert her... Tansen almost shuddered. He had enough problems of his own with women without contemplating Emelen's too closely.

  Emelen said, "They told me at Dalishar. Zimran betrayed Josarian."

  "Yes." Tansen waited to see how much Emelen knew.

  No more than anyone else, apparently, since Emelen only said, "To be honest, I never really liked Zimran and never understood why Josarian loved him so much. But I never ever thought he would do something like that."

  "No."

  "Why?" Emelen asked. "Why?"

  Tansen shrugged, concealing his discomfort with the subject. "Maybe because he could. You know the old saying: He who betrays you is never one from afar."

  "Do you think it was because of you?"

  That surprised him. "Me?"

  "Zimran was always jealous of you, you know," said Emelen. "Josarian made you his brother. Loved you best. Trusted you the most. Relied on you more than anyone. Even when you weren't around, Josarian was always saying, 'Tansen says,' or 'Tansen told me,' or 'What would Tansen do now?' And Zimran hated that. Hated you for it. Maybe even started hating Josarian for it."

  Tansen shook his head. "Zimran was a complicated man." One whom Elelar had played like a harp.

  "Do you think Zim was in collusion with Kiloran?" When Tansen frowned, Emelen elaborated, "How else would Kiloran have known when and where to attack Josarian?"

  How indeed?

  Maybe I really should kill Elelar.

  But he knew he wouldn't.

  "Kiloran had tried before to kill Josarian, and he would have tried again if he'd failed that night. It was just another attempt," Tansen prevaricated. "The one that worked."

  "And which one will work on you?"

  "Oh, that's a cheerful thought."

  Emelen smiled. "Sorry. Perhaps fear of imminent castration by my own wife is making me glum."

  "Perhaps missing her is making you glum," Tansen suggested morosely. "Women can do that to a man."

  "There is good news, though."

  "What?" Tansen asked.

  "Well... strange news, rather."

  "Yes?"

  "The visions at Dalishar are continuing."

  Tansen stared at him. "What?"

  Emelen nodded. "I've seen it myself. It doesn't happen every night, and it's not always the same thing. But once in while... I've never seen a vision before, but this could be nothing else."

  Tansen listened while Emelen described the same sort of thing he'd heard before. Sometimes people saw glowing golden eyes in the night sky over Dalishar. Sometimes they saw an image like a fist—a symbol reminiscent of Daurion, the last great Yahrdan, who ruled Sileria, as songs and stories said, with a fist of iron in a velvet glove.

  "And a voice?" Tansen prodded.

  "Yes. Well, not a voice exactly, but something you hear in your head."

  "'He is coming.'"

  "Yes. You've seen... heard it?" Emelen asked.

  "No, but I've heard about it." A few times, by now. "So it's not connected to Mirabar," he mused. "It's something all on its own."

  "Something amazing."

  "How are people responding?" Tansen asked.

  "Everyone from Chandar and other nearby villages is crowding the camp at Dalishar now, eager to see it."

  "They're not afraid?"

  "Depends on who you ask. I mean... who is 'he,' and what's he going to do when he comes? People are either excited or afraid depending on what they think the vision means."

  "Mirabar said—"

  "That it's a promise of this new ruler she has foreseen," Emelen said. "I know, and so does everyone else. It helps. It definitely helps."

  "But some people disagree?"

  "Of course. This is Sileria. Some people insist it means terrible things."

  "Of course," Tansen said dryly. This was Sileria. "What does Lann say?"

  "
Lann says visions make him queasy, and he wants you to put someone else in charge at Dalishar so he can go kill assassins and be happy again."

  Tansen grinned. "Fair enough."

  "Dalishar's not the only place where strange things are happening."

  "The colored smoke and lights at Mount Darshon," Tansen murmured.

  "When Jalilar and I left the east, after Jalan brought us news of Josarian's death and word started spreading, the zanareen went mad."

  "The zanareen have always been mad," Tansen pointed out.

  "I mean, they got even stranger. Haven't you seen any of them lately?"

  "No, I've been busy," he said dryly.

  "They're raving about how Dar is angry, Dar wants vengeance, Dar will have blood—"

  "But that's good," Tansen interrupted. "The Society killed the Firebringer, so surely Dar's fury will help us convince people they've got to oppose the waterlords now."

  "They're also saying Dar wants sacrifices."

  "Such as?"

  "So far it's just the usual: flowers, fruit, grain, wine, livestock, gold, jewels, bones of the dead..."

  "But?" Tansen prodded.

  "The zanareen say if it's not enough, She'll take more."

  "That's Her way," Tansen said with resignation. "It always has been."

  "People are already afraid," said Emelen. "Traveling west, Jalilar and I met people going east, men and women. They were summoned to Darshon, they said. Called to worship and praise Dar. They didn't seem to know what in the Fires they would actually do once they got there, but they were going."

  "Where is Jalan?" Tansen asked suddenly. The zanar was a raving religious fanatic and possibly Tansen's least favorite person; but he'd been right all along about Josarian's true identity, and maybe he'd have something useful to say about all of this.

  "He came with us as far as the Sanctuary where I left Jalilar. When he was sure the Firebringer's sister was in a safe place, he left us to return to Darshon." Emelen added, "And I would rather face a White Dragon myself than travel with Jalan again. So would my wife."

  "Even Josarian didn't like him."

  "I doubt that Dar Herself likes him," Emelen said with feeling.