The White Dragon

by Laura Resnick

  Elelar walked away from the bedchamber door and continued pacing the hallway, thinking idly while she waited.

  So Tansen didn't want Mirabar to kill her? Elelar almost sneered. So Tansen worried about blood on that razor-tongued girl's hands?

  So Tansen, Elelar thought with an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy, is in love?

  He wasn't just protecting Mirabar. Elelar could tell. She knew too much about men to mistake the signs: He was protecting himself when he protected Mirabar—she had become that important to him.

  Elelar wondered if Mirabar felt the same way. Tansen wasn't giving any hints, either way, which didn't surprise Elelar. Regardless of all he had seen and done in his life, Tansen was still a shallah, and they had very strict views about a woman's honor. Short of announcing his intention to marry Mirabar (or at least to offer a good bride price for her), there was relatively little Tansen could say about his interest in an unmarried young woman without dishonoring her, according to the rigid customs of the shallaheen.

  And marriage is probably out of the question, since he's about to go seduce a sea goddess—or let one seduce him.

  Elelar turned when she heard light footsteps behind her.

  "Faradar," she said, addressing her personal maid, a young woman who knew many of her secrets—though certainly not all—and who had endured countless challenges with her during the past few years.

  "They're asking in the kitchen, torena," Faradar said, glancing at the door at she spoke softly. "Do you want an evening meal, and how many guests will there be?"

  Elelar shook her head. "I don't know. Tell them to put out some cold food and just leave it there."

  "Do you know yet why the boy—"

  "No. I've been waiting here since we returned to the house."

  "They've been in there for a long time," Faradar mused, staring at the door. "The siran seemed very worried about him when you returned to the house together."

  "Yes," Elelar agreed. Tansen's concern for Zarien was something he couldn't hide, not even from the servants.

  "The siran loves that boy," Faradar stated plainly.

  "Yes," Elelar said slowly, only now realizing what had been obvious from the moment Zarien had first arrived here with Tansen. "He does."

  "Do you think—"

  They turned when the door clicked open. Tansen came out, his lean face drawn and sad, and closed the door behind him.

  "Well?" Elelar asked.

  "His family is dead," Tansen's voice was soft. "Most of his clan. He... It's come as a terrible shock to him."

  Wanting to get rid of Faradar, Elelar said to her, "Go have some food brought up to Z—"

  "No," Tansen interrupted. "I asked. He won't eat. Not tonight."

  Faradar, however, understood Elelar's hint and took her leave, offering to have some cold food set out for Elelar and Tansen downstairs.

  "No," he said. "I want to stay close to him, in case he calls for me."

  "I'll have something brought to you here, siran," Faradar said.

  "Thank you. Just something to drink. I'm not hungry."

  "Torena?" Faradar asked.

  "I'll be down later," Elelar replied, guessing that Tansen wouldn't want her company for long. She'd rarely seen him so tired. His concern for this boy drained him in a way that physical demands rarely did.

  Tansen stared at Zarien's door for a long moment, then said absently to Elelar, "He needs some time by himself. I'll go back in and sit with him a little later, after he's asleep." He sank into a chair, for once neglecting his manners, and looked up at Elelar, who stood before him. "I don't want him to wake up alone."

  Elelar glanced over her shoulder to make sure Faradar was gone, then asked, "What does this mean for his plans? Your plans?"

  "He says we're not going to sea. He says... uh, vulgar things about Sharifar which I really can't repeat to a woman."

  "But—"

  "He blames the goddess, Elelar. He blames Dar, too. He's... very, very angry."

  "Yes, but—"

  "He won't go. And I can't go without him."

  She thought this over. "No, I suppose not."

  "I'd have no idea what to do," Tansen said.

  "Except float around in a boat and hope for the best."

  "Which seems like a waste of time, given the circumstances on land. Besides... surely someone would need to speak to the sea-born. Someone credible."

  "Like a fourteen-year-old boy?" she murmured doubtfully.

  Tansen shrugged. "More credible than me, anyhow. He's got those dragonfish scars. Besides, he's one of them. You know what the sea-born are like. Josarian's the only 'drylander' any of them have ever cared about."

  The Firebringer's named dropped between them like a volcanic rock, still glowing hot and red with Dar's fury.

  But Elelar knew now how she would pay for that betrayal, even if Tansen didn't accept the destiny the Olvar foresaw for her and Mirabar. So she didn't let the sudden anger and sorrow in Tansen's face distract her.

  "What are you going to do?" she asked.

  "Take care of business in Shaljir." Looking a little more focused now, he continued, "All those vultures in the Alliance will have to abide by the Dar's will and accept the Yahrdan whom Mirabar and the Guardians recognize."

  "If they ev—"

  "We're only going to use the word when with regard to that, Elelar," he instructed. "Particularly whenever toreni and members of the Alliance can hear us."

  She sighed. "Nonetheless—"

  "Meanwhile, Shaljir has got to prepare for Kiloran's assault. Especially with the dry season upon us."

  "We've stored water—"

  "I noticed. But you'll need to do more than that."

  "We're trying to find out Kiloran's plans," said Elelar. "Trying to learn what Baran will do."

  "So are we."

  "Kiloran can't withhold the Idalar River from Shaljir unless Baran helps him."

  "Or just fails to hinder him," Tansen pointed out.

  "Oh. Yes. True enough." She made a helpless gesture and asked, "What else must the city do?"

  "I'll work with the Guardians. Only they have any chance of protecting Shaljir from the Society. And the city-dwellers need to see the Guardians fighting for them, the way the lowlanders and shallaheen are seeing it now."

  "Derlen the Guardian is here," she advised him. "In my household. He can help you organize the Guardians coming into the city, as well as the ones already here."

  "I need to leave soon. But tomorrow I'll send for Radyan to come work with Derlen and the Alliance after I'm gone."

  "Radyan?" she said. "I don't know him."

  "He's very shrewd. And he comes from Illan—"

  "On the banks of the Idalar."

  "Yes, so he's quite familiar with what Kiloran can do."

  Elelar nodded and raised a new problem with regard to Kiloran. "We need to access the mines of Alizar. The country needs money, Tansen."

  He sighed. "I know. I just don't know how to loosen Kiloran's grip on Alizar."

  "We've tried to consider—"

  "I'm not sure anyone but another waterlord can do it."

  "Is there any possibility that another waterlord might?"

  Tansen shrugged. "We're working on it."

  She saw he didn't mean to tell her more than that, but she knew something of how his mind worked, so she guessed his plan. "You're trying to sow dissension within the Society."

  Tansen looked a little annoyed, but she saw that he hadn't really expected to keep it a secret from her. "Fortunately, it's not very difficult."

  "How can the Alliance hel—"

  "The Alliance," he interrupted, "should be concentrating on stopping the massacres. Here and throughout Sileria."

  She made an exasperated gesture. "Do you think we don't know that? Do you think we don't know the danger of offending the Emperor in Valda at this point?"

  "The killing of women and children offends me, Elelar," he said tersely. "The rebellion is over, and even
the Valdani men remaining in Sileria are mostly unarmed now. No one hates the Valdani more than I do, but this has to stop."

  "How?"

  He rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. We have to find a way, though." A moment later, Tansen asked, "Where's your husband? Has he been killed, or did he leave Sil—"

  "I don't know where he is." She frowned in irritation as she said, "He took my favorite horse and disappeared. I've had no word of him since. He may well be dead now, for all I know."

  Tansen accepted a goblet of wine from a servant who came up the stairs. When the two of them were alone again, he said, "You married a Valdan. You can convince the people—"

  She gasped. "Half-Valdan, and I only married him because—"

  "It doesn't matter," he insisted. "You're a heroine of the rebellion, loved by the people. You have influence with the Alliance, you're probably the most powerful woman in Shaljir now, and your name is legend even in the mountains. So tell the whole nation that you love Ronall."

  "What?"

  "Pray he's still alive, find him, and make an example of him: the half-Valdani husband who supported your secret work—"

  "He never knew!" she protested.

  "Who begged the Imperial Council to spare your life, and who went to prison for you after—"

  "He didn't go to prison voluntarily!"

  Tansen continued, "Who endured torture and suffering in prison to protect—"

  "He knew nothing! There was nothing he could tell Commander Koroll! And if he had known anything, he'd have told it all for just one drink, the filthy—"

  "Find him and make him a hero, Elelar," Tansen ordered. "Make the people love him the way they love you."

  She was aghast. "I can't—"

  "You have to," he said inflexibly. "If you don't, everyone in Sileria with Valdani blood will be slaughtered within the year. That's not what Josarian wanted, despite how many he killed."

  Elelar felt ill. "Tansen..."

  He leaned forward. "Don't let Sileria exist as a place where we murder women and children." Their eyes held. "Don't let that be our future, torena."

  She sighed and nodded. She would do her duty. She always had. She supposed that she could bear this, too. Besides, it wasn't as if she expected to live long enough to endure Ronall's company into old age. "But I don't know how to find my husband," she said honestly.

  "I'll help. He should be easier to find than a shallah or a lowlander. Everyone notices a toren. When we go back into the mountains—"

  "We? You're taking the boy, then?" she asked in surprise.

  He blinked. "Of course. He goes where I go."

  She heard pride in his weary voice and supposed it shouldn't startle her. "Even now?"

  "Where else would he go?" Tansen replied. "His family is dead. His clan are mostly dead. The sea-bound shun him now. I'm all he has. There is no one else."

  It wasn't her affair, but she was fond enough of Tansen to be concerned. "That boy... any boy... any child is a big responsibility, Tansen, and this one is diff—"

  "Is that why you've never had one?" he asked coldly.

  Elelar flinched. She was surprised at how much his bald question and chilly tone hurt on this subject. She replied with dignity, "I've never had a child because it has never been Dar's will that I have one."

  Tansen sighed. "I apologize, torena. I was rude." Their gazes held for a moment. "I'm sorry, Elelar. It was unkind of me."

  She acknowledged the apology, then asked softly, "Do you know what you're doing?"

  "Yes." Seeing that this didn't satisfy her, Tansen said, "Whether chance or destiny brought this boy into my life, Elelar, he has been a gift to me." He looked down and clearly tried not to make the words cut as he explained, "It's as if he was sent to fill the place left empty in my heart when Josarian died."

  Elelar wanted to weep for the things she had done. "Or was that place in your heart so empty that it seized upon this boy and now will not let him go?"

  "Go where?" he challenged.

  She thought about it and admitted, "Nowhere, I suppose. If he has no home left and he has abandoned his quest for the sea king..." She smiled sadly. "I suppose he's yours now, whether you want him or not."

  There was a dark, thoughtful expression on his face as he stared at the closed door to Zarien's chamber. "He's a very strong boy," Tansen murmured. "We'll be fine."

  "Good," was all she said, though she didn't feel as certain as Tansen did. "I'll leave you alone now. There'll be a servant at the bottom of the stairs all night, in case you want anything."

  "Thank you."

  She turned to go.

  His voice stopped her. "Elelar?"

  She didn't turn around. "Yes?"

  "I haven't forgotten," he warned her. "I want to see the Olvar."

  "Very well." She spoke over her shoulder. "I'll arrange it."

  What Tansen thought didn't matter. What he did wouldn't change her plans or her destiny. She could let him talk to the Olvar. It wouldn't do him any good.

  "You were right, siran," Searlon informed Kiloran in the watery splendor of Kandahar. "Baran is very ill."

  "What is wrong with him?" Kiloran asked, pleased.

  Searlon shook his head. "No one knows for sure. He's been secretive. But it's been going on for a while, and he's sick enough to have bribed the Sisterhood to tell my informants that he's getting well."

  "Ah." Kiloran nodded. Searlon was not like other men, and Baran was a fool to think he could trick the assassin with such a ploy. "Dying?"

  "It seems likely, siran. But we should consider that it could take a long time."

  "Or not," Kiloran said, trying to be optimistic. He considered another problem. "Do you think he's strong enough to kill Mirabar?"

  Searlon shrugged. "Possibly. If he catches her off guard."

  "Then that will be his plan."

  "And what is our plan regarding the territory left vacant by Abidan and Liadon?"

  Kiloran made a sound of weary anger. "I warned them about Tansen. I warned them, yet those fools still let—"

  "We should look forward not backward, siran," Searlon suggested politely.

  He mastered his rage and agreed, "Yes, of course."

  "Is Meriten having any success reclaiming the brothers' territory from the Guardians?"

  "Not yet, but I'm willing to give him time."

  "We don't intend to... step in?" Searlon asked.

  Kiloran shook his head. "Meriten is loyal to me, and it would be foolish for me to expend energy right now on that particular territory."

  Searlon considered this and then indicated his agreement with a nod. "Perhaps if I assisted him, though?"

  Kiloran nodded, understanding that Searlon meant he would advise Meriten on making the most effective use of his assassins in his struggle with the Guardians over the Shaljir River. "If you can spare the time."

  Searlon mused, "It would, however, mean further delays in my dealing with Najdan."

  "Since we don't even know where Najdan is at the moment—"

  "Finding Mirabar is the key, of course. And that's proving harder than I anticipated," Searlon admitted.

  "Ah. We return again to the question of befriending someone who will betray her, if Baran can't manage to kill her soon."

  "Sooner or later—"

  "No doubt. In the meantime, however, if you feel you can help Meriten without neglecting more important matters..."

  Searlon nodded, then continued, "You wanted to know more about that sea-born boy."

  "The one traveling with Tansen."

  Searlon shrugged. "Little is known. He appeared out of nowhere one day, shortly after Josarian's death, and hasn't left Tansen's side since then."

  "But why? And where does he come from?"

  "Why is anyone's guess, although there is strange talk of an enchanted stahra—that's an oar which the sea-born use as—"

  "I know what it is," Kiloran interrupted. "Enchanted? Is that just shallah talk, or is there something to it?"


  "I don't know yet. But the most interesting thing is that this boy is—was—sea-bound."

  Kiloran leaned forward. "Sea-bound?" he repeated, scarcely able to hear his own voice above the sudden pounding of his heart.

  "I've never heard of one coming ashore before." Searlon stroked his scarred cheek and admitted, "I find it interesting. Your instincts were right, siran. The boy is more out of place than we realized. I intend to find out more, but Tansen has disapp—"

  "What clan?" Kiloran demanded.

  "The boy? Lascari, they say."

  After all these years, it was like being slapped without provocation.

  "Lascari," Kiloran whispered.

  "Yes." Searlon gave him a puzzled look. "What does that mean to you, siran?"

  He stared at the fluidly solid walls of his underwater palace and pondered the possibilities. Perhaps it were merely coincidence. "But I don't like coincidences."

  "And I don't believe in them," Searlon said. "However, I don't understand. What—"

  "Is anyone else asking about this boy?"

  "I don't know. Is that important?"

  "Is Baran asking about this boy?"

  Searlon frowned. "Not that I know of, but—"

  "See if you can find out."

  "Yes, siran."

  "But without calling Baran's attention to the boy, if he's not already interested in him."

  "Of course." Searlon waited. When Kiloran didn't speak, the assassin did. "May I ask what this is all about?"

  Kiloran sighed, feeling his heart slowly return to a normal pace. "It may be nothing." He nodded. "In fact, it's probably nothing. But the Lascari..."

  "Do you know them, siran?"

  He shook his head. "I knew one of them once. She's been dead for years, though." He had tried to make sure. He had been obsessed with being certain. A soft shadow of doubt had remained for a while, only fading gradually as he watched from a distance while Baran grew more bitter and insane with each passing season. It was Baran's spiral into madness which had convinced Kiloran years ago that the woman was truly dead.

  Impetuous acts and ungoverned passions always cost too much and should never be indulged.