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.

Instead, he stunned her by saying, "And Josarian is about to be betrayed."

 

 

Tansen's side felt like it was on fire as he trekked to the nearest place that had horses. He felt like he was going to be sick as he pressed the pace, his heart racing with fear. His wound felt like it was splitting open again, as it had during the journey to Sanctuary. He didn't care. It didn't matter if he bled to death, so long as he was able to warn Josarian in time.

Najdan had entered the Sanctuary with Mirabar, and after a chaotic moment when Tansen had gone after him with his swords and Mirabar had jumped between them, the assassin had betrayed his master and told them both what he knew.

A secret treaty between the Valdani and the Alliance. A series of hostage exchanges—including Koroll. No wonder the ambush had been so easy! A bargain to end the war in Sileria so that the Valdani could more efficiently pursue their wars on the mainland.

The surrender of Shaljir in exchange for Josarian's life.

They left Najdan's woman behind with Basimar, with instructions that they were to go to a Sanctuary closer to Dalishar, just in case. Then, ignoring Basimar's protests about his condition, Tansen armed himself and took Najdan, Mirabar, and his eight shallah guards down the mountain with him. They would find horses and, traveling along main roads, they would catch up with Josarian.

"But how does Searlon know all the details of this treaty?" Mirabar asked.

"I wasn't sure at first," Najdan said, "but my mast... Kiloran told me more after we took Cavasar. Somehow, he is behind the treaty. He works through Searlon, but the treaty is his creature, though those who signed it may not know that."

"If the plan succeeds, Kiloran gains everything," Mirabar said pensively, "doesn't he?"

"And loses nothing," Najdan added. "Even if it fails."

"They'll do it now," Tansen said. "While they know that Mirabar and I aren't with Josarian."

"The Valdani? But they'd have to find him first," Mirabar pointed out. "Josarian has been very secretive about his movements since the feud with Kiloran began."

"He'll be betrayed by one of his own," Najdan said. "Who in the Alliance would know where he is now?"

Mirabar gasped and came to a halt. Her golden gaze flew up to Tansen's. He had guessed instantly, the moment Najdan had told him that the Alliance was involved. It had taken Mirabar a little longer to figure it out; but then, she didn't know the torena the way he did. No one did.

"Zimran is with Josarian," Mirabar said slowly. "He would have told Elelar where they were going." 

Tansen nodded. "And she'll tell—"

"Do you think Zimran knows what she has planned?" Mirabar asked.

"Yes." He turned and continued walking, faster than before. "I think he'll lead Josarian into the trap."

Mirabar stumbled to catch up. Najdan was right behind her. The other men were further back, still out of earshot as Mirabar said, "But why would he do it? How could she convince—"

"She can be very convincing when she needs to be," Tansen said bitterly.

Now he knew why she had come to the Shrine of the Three, had once again woven her spell around him. He'd been a fool to think that his near death had stirred her heart even a little. She had come to assess how badly wounded he was and how long it would be before he could return to Josarian's side to guard him day and night. Then she had replaced him with Zimran, sending her besotted lover back to his cousin's side after all this time.

Josarian's life in exchange for Shaljir.

Tansen stumbled and fell. He shook off Najdan's helping hand and pushed himself back to his feet. He followed the direction of Mirabar's worried gaze and looked down to see a fresh stain on his tunic. The wound had reopened.

"You must stop and rest," Mirabar said.

"No, I—"

"Yes," she insisted. "You will be of no use to Josarian if you die before—"

"I don't need—"

A strong hand forced him to sit down. "The sirana says you must rest. So you will rest." It was the warning of an assassin. "Until she says otherwise."

Despite everything, Tansen almost laughed. "I think you were less trouble when you were our enemy."

"This is Sileria," Najdan replied. "A man's friends are always more dangerous than his enemies."

Tansen met the assassin's gaze. "He'll want you now, even more than he wants the rest of us."

Najdan knew whom he meant. "I have betrayed my master. There is no worse crime."

Tansen had seen enough of Najdan to know he would never try to excuse himself for it, either. Nonetheless, he said, "You've made the right choice, Najdan."

"Yes." Najdan said dryly, "And I hope that knowledge is a great comfort to me when the White Dragon comes for me."

"You don't really believe in it, do you?" Tansen asked.

Najdan looked into the distance, as if remembering something from long ago. "I have seen enough of Kiloran's power not to doubt the White Dragon just because I haven't seen it myself."

"Do you know anyone who has?"

The assassin faltered, "No, but—  "

"It's a story the waterlords made up to keep people obedient to their will," said Tansen.

"You've seen prophecy from the Otherworld and the birth of the Firebringer," Najdan said. "Your own destiny was foretold in visions which tormented the sirana. You, of all people, should know better, Tansen."

"I don't deny Kiloran's power," Tansen assured him. "I'll never forget those tentacles that nearly drowned me, dragging me under the surface of Lake Kandahar. And I saw what Kiloran did to the well at Alizar... But surely such feats are what men have taken for the White Dragon?"

Najdan frowned, unconvinced, but he caught Mirabar's eye and dropped the subject. "You should rest, not argue with me."

Tansen's side hurt a bit less now. "Elelar has convinced Zimran to betray Josarian to the Valdani, and somehow Kiloran is behind it. I've rested enough." He rose to his feet and continued down the path to destiny.

 

 

He will die soon, anyhow. He might as well die to end the war. To free Elelar. To pay for what he did to her at Golnar.

Zimran returned his cousin's smile as they made camp at dusk somewhere along the road to Zilar.

If he must die anyhow, then it might as well be so that I can have my own life back at last.

Being loyal to Josarian was merely a habit, he realized, nothing more. His cousin's madness had worn out Zimran's heart. Nothing was left except regret that it had all come to this in the end.

Who had grown up with Josarian, sharing his boyhood adventures, discoveries, fibs, punishments, and rewards? Who had moved into Josarian's house to keep him company in the grim months following Calidar's death? Who had invited Josarian into a lucrative smuggling trade so that he might improve his humble position in life?

It certainly wasn't any of the zanareen who now fawned and groveled, clustering so thickly around Josarian that Zimran could scarcely get a single moment alone with him these days.

When Josarian turned an ordinary smuggling raid into a mad night of violence and murder, who had remained loyal to him? Who had stayed by his side while he recovered from his wound in Sanctuary?

Not Tansen.

The roshah hadn't even been in Sileria then.

Zimran had risked his own safety time and time again to bring Josarian information and supplies during those early days of outlawry. He had never faltered once. And what was the thanks he got for it? The moment that two-sworded stranger had shown up, Josarian had become loyal to him, deliberately excluding Zimran from that day forward.

In fact, ever since then, Josarian had favored all of them over Zimran—Lann, Emelen, Amitan, Falian, and many more recent recruits. Even the demon girl had more privileges and respect within the rebellion than Zimran did.

Josarian has brought this on himself.

Angering Kiloran with his stubbornness, murdering Srijan, infuriating the Society, alienating Elelar and the Alliance... Alienating the cousin who had loved him, who once had been more loyal to him than any man alive!

I will mourn you, remembering you as you once were. But I will not let you go on ruining my life.

Watching the zanareen milling around his cousin now, Zimran tried once again to believe that the ordinary boy he had grown up with was the Firebringer. Even now, though, he simply couldn't. He'd never believed in the Firebringer anyhow, and Josarian...

Zimran had been with Josarian the first time he'd ever gotten drunk, and he had held his head while Josarian vomited it all up the next day. Zimran had seen him go all calf-eyed and half-witted after meeting Calidar, who was no different from any other shallah girl. He'd even seen Josarian chased halfway through Emeldar by his wife's vicious cow, for the love of Dar!

How could such an ordinary man be the Firebringer?

Zimran had toyed with all of these thoughts for days, and it always came back to this moment. He knew what he had to do, and he knew he'd be safe. No one would ever know. No one would ever accuse him, Josarian's own cousin—certainly not when he would describe how he himself had barely escaped alive from the Outlookers' ambush. Josarian would lose the life he'd been throwing away for months anyhow, and Zimran would finally be able to reclaim his own life, with the woman he had chosen as his own, and return to a peaceful, profitable existence free of warfare, bloodfeuds, and bloodvows.

This evening, Zimran wore the yellow tunic that would identify him to the Outlookers waiting on the other side of the shallow Zilar River. Therefore, of the two shallaheen walking into their trap, they would know which one was Josarian, their enemy. They would know which one to kill. Then they would take the body to someone who could verify that the dead man was indeed Josarian. Once satisfied, they would turn Shaljir over to the Alliance. Then it would all end.

The war will be over.

All he had to do was play on the sentiments of a man who still trusted him.

"Good hunting land," Zimran said to Josarian, surveying the countryside around their camp.

"Yes." Josarian glanced up. "Lann claimed he once—"

"Please, it's enough that I have to hear Lann's boasts from him. Don't you start." He grinned when Josarian laughed. "There are still a couple of hours of good light left. Why don't you and I go get a stag? Fresh meat."

Josarian looked around hesitantly. "I'm not sure..."

"Oh, come with me. How long as it been since we've gone hunting together?"

Josarian sighed. "Ah, too long, Zim."

He picked up Josarian's quiver and bow, holding them out like bait. "Well, then?" Seeing that he nearly had him, he added, "Just you and me. Just like it used to be."

Josarian met his gaze, hesitated for only another brief moment, then grinned. "All right. Let's go."

Zimran smiled in response. "I think the land across the river looks best, don't you?"