In Legend Born (41 page)

"Find the
shir
and you find him." What
shir
? If not the
shir
of Basimar's brother-in-law, then whose? "Fire and water. Fire
in
water. A house of water. An alliance."

"What's she saying?" one of the men asked, starting to back away from her.

"She does this all the time," Basimar said dismissively. "Don't let it bother you."

"I must find Kiloran," Mirabar said at last.

"We've already tried that," Basimar pointed out.

"There must be a way..." Mirabar looked around at the men. "Who would know where he is?"

"An assassin, I suppose," said Amitan. "One of
his
assassins."

She thought it over. "All right, how do I find one of his assassins?"

Basimar jumped as if she'd been stung. Amitan shook his head. Another of the men laughed at her.

"
Sirana
, you can't possibly—"

"Mira, that is the worst idea I've ever—"

"An assassin! Surely
avoiding
them is the only—"

"Haven't we had enough trouble with Kiloran?"

"What trouble?" Mirabar asked. "Surely Kiloran doesn't care if you keep attacking the Valdani?"

"I mean the assassin who came here. Tansen killed him, which puts us in an awkward position with Kil—"

"An assassin came here?" Mirabar jumped to her feet. "In search of Tansen?"

"Yes. The
shir
is still lying over there, where it fell."

"Sweet Dar, he's leaving a
trail
of them," Mirabar muttered. "Tell me, how many people know that Tansen has disappeared and may not return?"

Amitan blinked. "Well... no one, really. We didn't think it wise to reveal that Josarian is missing, so—"

"So not even Kiloran knows that we don't have Tansen with us right here?" she pounced.

"Yes, I suppose that's true."

Mirabar laughed. "That's it! That's how I'll find Kiloran!"

"
Sirana
?"

"We'll lure an assassin up here. I'll capture him and make him lead me to Kiloran!"

If she had told them she intended to march into Valda and spit in the Emperor's face, they could not have been more horrified. Mirabar waited for them to calm down, then offered to do a Calling.

"Someone is looking for you," the Olvar said, stirring the Sacred Pool with a wrinkled hand.

"Kiloran?" Tansen guessed.

"No. An ally."

"Elelar? Is she coming?"

He kept his voice level, concealing the emotions churning inside him. It was hard to mark the passage of time down here, but he thought it must be more than a day since he had sent the scarf to Elelar via the Olvar's messenger, revealing his presence down here, alerting her to his return.

She would come. Surely, she would come. She couldn't risk
not
coming; nor had she ever been one to back away from a challenge. But part of him was still afraid that she wouldn't come.

"Oh, the
torena
is coming," the Olvar assured him. "She is in the tunnels even now, coming to meet you."

It felt as if someone had grabbed his insides and squeezed hard. He didn't risk looking at Josarian, though he could feel his friend's gaze hard upon him.

"Someone is looking for you," the Olvar repeated. "Seeks you far and wide. Takes great risks to find you."

Tansen thought for a moment. "It couldn't be Koroll, the Valdani commander, could it? He thinks we're allies, and he doesn't know what happened to me."

The Beyah-Olvari who were gathered around them uttered a banishing prayer. The Emperor's engineers had already destroyed a vast section of this underground world when expanding the port of Shaljir several years ago. Now the Valdani spoke of using Shaljir's vast network of tunnels to channel water into the city from a new source so they would no longer be so dependent on the Idalar River; that source always required costly tribute to the Society, and it had lately become catastrophically unreliable thanks to Kiloran's power struggle with Baran. The very existence of the Beyah-Olvari was threatened by such plans.

"No," said the Olvar. "Not a Valdan. An ally. One who will be the shield, as you will be the sword."

"The shield and sword for what?" Tansen asked.

The Olvar looked straight at Josarian. "For him."

Koroll read Myrell's latest dispatch without much surprise. He had known that this brutal show of force Myrell was making in several villages in the western district was unlikely to produce immediate results, for every
shallah
was—quite rightly—afraid to betray Josarian. The Society would almost certainly take swift action against anyone who violated
lirtahar
. Moreover, the murder of Arlen, Myrell's Silerian informant, proved that Josarian would be just as quick as the Society to punish betrayal.

For the moment, the
shallaheen
built their sacred fires to send their dead to Paradise, or some such place, and made up songs about the martyrs who had died rather than give up Josarian. For the moment, they remained loyal to him.

Sooner or later, though, someone would betray him. Sooner or later, people would grow tired of suffering on behalf of this outlaw, no matter how much of his booty he gave away. Eventually, old rivalries and grievances would surface to combat this uncharacteristic solidarity. Undoubtedly, Josarian would have to kill one of his own kind again. And if Koroll was lucky, next time the deceased would be a
shallah
that some local family loved, instead of a despised stranger who had abandoned his family long ago.

The
shallaheen
were—and always had been—a violent, quarrelsome, irrational people. Whether they finally enabled Koroll to kill Josarian or whether they simply killed him themselves, the High Commander of Sileria knew that this embarrassing rebellion couldn't last much longer.

The arrival in the Chamber of the Sacred Pool of
Torena
Elelar mar Olidan yesh Ronall shah Hasnari occasioned much chanting and blessing, both before and after the interminable formal greetings the Beyah-Olvari invariably bestowed upon a guest.

Tansen was glad. It gave him time to strangle a thousand unwanted memories and emotions before he actually had to speak to her. She was even more poised than she'd been at eighteen; except for a brief glance in his direction when she first entered the chamber, she managed not to look at him again until she had finished exchanging lengthy greetings with the Olvar, his family, the respected elders of the tribe, and their families.

Graceful and elegant, she had ripened to fulfill all the promise she had shown nine years ago. She wore a costly confection of painted gossamer, the traditional long tunic and pantaloons of a Silerian woman modified for the more permissive standards of the
toreni
. The slim pantaloons tapered down to hug her slender ankles, the grace of which were probably lost on the Valdani clod she had married.

Yesh Ronall:
spouse of Ronall. Those words had hit Tansen hard when the Olvar's praise singer had announced Elelar's arrival. Tan had known she would probably be married; except for a Sister, what woman did not marry? He had expected it, but it clawed at him, even so. She belonged to another man—and to a Valdan! Tansen's mind reeled. Knowing how she had hated the Valdani nine years ago, he wondered whether she had changed beyond all recognition, or whether this marriage was another strand in the Alliance's tangled web of scheming and deception.

Physically, at least, she had certainly not changed beyond recognition. He would have known her anywhere. Her smooth, arrogant face with its wide-set watchful eyes and full mouth was just as he remembered it, though it was the face of a woman now, rather than a girl. Her fine clothing was designed to artfully reveal the graceful curves and slender waist he had never forgotten. The short sleeves of her shimmering tunic bared the smooth flesh of her arms, exquisitely fair by Silerians standards—though the pale Valdani probably considered her too dark for true beauty.

However, beauty, though she had it, was not what set Elelar apart from other women. The elaborate coils and braids her glossy black hair was woven into, the oils and cosmetics which she used with such skill, and the exquisite garments she wore all pleased the eye as much as her face and figure, but Tansen had seen more beautiful women. There was something about Elelar which exceeded mere beauty; it had been there nine years ago, and it had now blossomed into its full power. Was it the grace and sensuality of her movements? The mingled warm challenge and cool intelligence of her gaze? The courage which, as Josarian would have put it, was like a banner? Or was it merely the arrogant pride, so evident in every gesture, that made a man want to feel her tremble beneath him?

When he was fifteen, he had fallen instantly, irrevocably under her spell. She had ignored him, mocked him, embarrassed him, angered him. She had also taught him, guided him, and opened his eyes, ensuring that they could never close again. She had shaped his destiny more than she realized. And, in the end, she had betrayed him.

He had tried to hate her, to despise her, to cultivate his resentment against her. Sometimes he had even succeeded. But he had always found it impossible to
forget
her. And now, after all these years, he was ashamed to discover, as he gazed at her, that hatred and resentment were weak, pale things that withered beneath the onslaught of his longing.

The last time he had seen her, she had raged at him with a violence that knew no relief, with a passion that craved vengeance. Now, as she turned to acknowledge and greet him, he saw that she, too, had given long and hard study to the art of concealing her emotions. Her voice was cool and her expression betrayed no more interest than she would show in any other unexpected visitor to the tunnels. Her apparent indifference tore at his insides, even as he kept his own expression equally impersonal.

Acknowledging her greeting, he crossed his fists over his chest and bowed his head, dignifying her rank. "
Torena
, I am pleased to see you looking so well."

"May Dar welcome home Her wandering son," she recited, not bothering to try to sound sincere. "I see you bring a friend."

"
Torena
," he replied, "I beg the honor of presenting to you my bloodbrother, Josarian mar Gershon shah Emeldari."

Even Elelar couldn't conceal her surprise. Her dark eyes flashed to his brother's face and she stared with open astonishment. "
Josarian?
"

Josarian glanced at Tansen, then crossed his fists and bowed his head. "I am honored,
torena
."

"You shouldn't be in Shaljir," she said. "If the Valdani find out you're here, you'll never escape. The city is walled and there are Outlookers everywh—"

"They won't find out," Tansen interrupted.

Elelar looked back at him, all formality forgotten. "You did right to notify us, but bringing him into the heart of Shaljir was not—"

"I didn't bring him. I have business here, and he insisted on coming."