In Legend Born (64 page)

Torena
Elelar, it seemed, was far more than a woman who had broken the law by contacting those in league with the bandit Josarian, and her scheming went far beyond getting rid of an inconvenient husband.

The woman was clever, secretive, and discreet. At first, in fact, the spies had reported that they believed Koroll had been mistaken in his suspicions. They had persevered at his insistence, but every unusual action or unexpected visitor to the house in Shaljir had a plausible explanation. Koroll, however, remained unconvinced. Midnight couriers; unusually large expenditures; servants who could read and write; one or two
shallaheen
showing up every few days to solicit employment, then leaving Shaljir immediately after being privately interviewed and apparently found unsatisfactory... Koroll had perceived explanations which were not as innocent as the most apparent ones, but which he considered just as plausible.

Then a servant hired at summer's end had left the
torena
's employ in disgrace. Caught stealing in Elelar's private chambers, the young woman should have been grateful that she was only dismissed. Silerian aristocrats still had considerable power over the lower classes, after all, and the Imperial Advisor's own mistress could have had the girl executed for the offense, had she been vindictive enough. However, like most thieves, the girl wasn't sorry she had committed a crime, only sorry that she'd been caught. One of Koroll's men, dressed as a civilian, showed her a good time one evening and offered her a sympathetic shoulder to cry on. She had taken full advantage of his generosity on all counts, eager to complain about the strange household with its clannish longtime servants and unyielding rules.

And that was how they learned that a seemingly insignificant merchant—a man with graying hair and a precocious young son—who visited the
torena
often was, in fact, a Guardian.

The Guardians and the Society. A woman connected to both; both connected to Josarian.

"Elelar has Borell's trust," Koroll said. "She undoubtedly has had access to information which could benefit the rebels, since we had no idea that she was
one
of them. Who knows how much this damned woman has hurt the Empire while spreading her legs for Borell?"

"But how will we prove it, Commander?" Myrell asked as he sat with Koroll on a fragrant morning in Shaljir.

"I'm having her house searched today. I'm sure you'd like to join me in supervising the operation."

Myrell almost choked on his shock. "Borell's mistress? He'll have you sent to the farthest reaches of the Moorlands!"

"Are you suggesting that would be worse than being in Sileria?" Koroll muttered.

"Commander, I respectfully submit that the
torena
will run straight to Borell the moment you reveal your intentions, and he will—"

"The
torena
is still wandering the countryside somewhere. Unfortunately, my men lost her in the mountains, so we've no idea where she is or how long she intends to stay there." Koroll's face twisted with mingled skepticism and distaste as he added, "The official story is that she's gone into Sanctuary, as is her annual custom, to commune with the spirit of her dead grandfather."

So many Valdani were appalled by the extensive death cult in this country that the Guardians—who claimed they could actually
talk
to the dead—had been outlawed, as had fire magic. Even assuming that Silerians exaggerated the power of their fire wizards as much as they exaggerated most things, the Empire could not condone such dangerous sorcery among its subjugated peoples.

"Commune with... She admits to such things?" Myrell asked. "Why does Borell tolerate such primitive practices and su—"

"Because he thinks with an organ very distant from his brain when dealing with Elelar." Koroll sighed. "Besides, she's a woman and she's of another culture. The Advisor is a worldly man. I imagine he makes allowances for the strange rites and superstitions of a Silerian female, no matter how high-born—as long as she continues to please him."

"Her husband is gone from home, too?" Myrell asked.

Koroll shook his head. "He's here in town. But, as Commander of Shaljir, I happen to know that a contingent of eight Outlookers is about to escort him from his home to Santorell Palace, by force if necessary, for a personal meeting with the Advisor."

"Why?" Myrell asked in puzzlement.

"I was not informed why." Koroll's voice was rich with contempt as he explained, "I assume it is in relation to the Advisor's personal life. I have heard that Ronall was dragged to the Palace to face Borell once before over matters regarding the woman who is wife to one and mistress to the other. Apparently neither man is... very good at sharing."

Myrell studied his superior officer, admiring him. "So there will be no one at home except servants when we arrive today. They will have just seen their master dragged off by Outlookers, and they'll be so frightened—so convinced of total disaster—that they will not resist when your men start searching the house."

Koroll nodded. "The less we say, the better. If there are those among them who knows Elelar's secrets, let's encourage them to assume that we know what we're looking for, that we're merely collecting material to validate an arrest which cannot be escaped or avoided."

Yes, Myrell admired this man. Koroll had wrestled glory out of the disaster at Britar, rising to the post of High Commander of Sileria, and was now second in importance only to Borell himself. He had achieved this feat by mastering situations such as this one, calculating every plan down to the finest details, predicting and accounting for every contingency. Oh, yes, there were few men who could have turned the tide as Koroll had done, creating success and promotion out of defeat and certain disgrace. And he had given Myrell another chance, too, which was why Myrell would always be loyal to him.

Yes, Myrell's commanding officer was a genius, a visionary who was also a practical man. Together, they would rise to incredible heights, just as soon as they had finished off Josarian and his mountain rabble. Together, they would someday return to Valda in triumph: heralded, honored, and admired. All they had to do was kill a bunch of Silerian peasants first.

Elelar approached the Lion's Gate late in the day, just before sundown. Faradar and her two most-trusted manservants rode with her. They were all tired, for she had pushed hard to reach Shaljir today. Borell expected her at Santorell Palace tonight and, weary as she was, she would go. It was her duty, after all.

Seated on her horse, she looked down at the Outlookers guarding the gate and prepared to announce herself and her business in Shaljir.
A bath,
she thought wryly. 

But no words had time to escape her lips. 

In that instant, four more Outlookers burst through the door of the guardhouse and, to her astonished horror, roughly pulled her off her horse, handling her like some brothel-slave, and dragged her toward the building.

She heard fighting behind her as she was hauled away; her servants were trying to defend her. Terrified and desperately hoping this was some idiotic mistake, she prayed that Faradar kept her wits and remembered what to do. They had talked about it often.

You are "only" a woman,
Elelar had told her numerous times.
If I am taken, it is unlikely that anyone will pay attention to you. Not at first, anyhow. You must use that time to slip away. Whatever happens to me, you must escape. Warn the others. Warn Josarian. Tell Tansen. He knows who to contact in the Alliance if I die. 

Yes, she hoped this was a mistake... but deep down, she knew her time was at hand. Nonetheless, she fought as she had been trained to fight, as an aristocrat.

"Take your filthy hands off me, you ham-fisted clods!" she snarled at the Outlookers trying to force her through the doorway of the guardhouse. "Let go, you fools! Advisor Borell himself will geld you for this! Do you know who I am? I am
Torena
Elelar yesh Ronall mar—"

They bodily threw her through the door and slammed it behind her. Her head hit hard wood as she fell to the floor in a heap, where she lay dazed and winded.

The voice which addressed her next was one that she recognized all too well, one that she had heard in anger and in passion, in public and in private, in fury and in tenderness. It chilled her blood and proved that this was no mistake.

"Yes, they know who you are," Borell sounded unbearably weary. "And you have lost the right to invoke my name or my support,
torena
."

She would brazen it out. What else could she do? She lifted her throbbing head and wailed, "Borell? What's happening?"

"You're under arrest." Now he sounded positively ill. "The charges are extensive. In fact, we don't even know them all yet."

"What?" Elelar pushed herself into a sitting position, removed the traditional headdress which had already fallen off most of the way, and rubbed her aching head. She gazed at her lover with wide, limpid, confused eyes. "You're...
arresting
me? I don't understand!"

Commander Koroll was there, too. So was a gloating Outlooker officer whom she had never seen before; the fellow had a stupid face and a nose which had been badly set after being broken. Her mind worked furiously, wondering what she could do. How much did they know? A lot, she assumed, if they had convinced Borell to arrest her. Darfire, the damned man had lately talked of nothing but wanting to marry her!

Borell looked older to her, as if he'd aged ten years since her departure from the city. His eyes were red-rimmed, evidence of sleepless nights. They were also... glassy, bleak, unfocused. Like a man in shock, a man who'd just suffered a loss so sudden and devastating that his mind couldn't yet cope with the grief.

But she knew this man well. However much he thought he loved her, he loved himself more. Her betrayal would destroy his career, and he would make her pay for that—especially if he thought that exposing and punishing her himself might mitigate the damage to his reputation. 

Borell had been easy to beguile, despite his intelligence. Elelar's apparent admiration for him had merely echoed his opinion of himself, and he had adored her for it. But she had always known how dangerous he would become if she ever hurt him. And what, after all, could hurt a proud man more than this—the discovery that the woman he loved had used and betrayed him over and over—coldly, rationally, and ruthlessly—from the very beginning?

Elelar met her lover's gaze, and she saw the knowledge burning in his foreign eyes, etched in his Valdani face, turning his fair skin as white as chalk. He
knew.

This was very bad. No matter how much Koroll might suspect her, she would have been safe as long as Borell chose to believe in her innocence. But now that she had lost Borell's support, Koroll was free to arrest, imprison, and even execute her. The Emperor's laws did not protect subjugated races from the Valdani. As a Silerian in Sileria, she had fewer rights than a goat.

"We've observed your movements for well over a twin-moon,
torena
," Koroll said, breaking the loud silence between her and Borell. "We conducted a thorough search of your house two days ago. We have found considerable evidence of your traitorous activities against the Empire, the Outlookers, and the Advisor himself."

She kept her expression under control, radiating innocent confusion and ignorant fear, concealing how much this news shocked her. She wanted to ask what they had found, but she was half-afraid that her own questions might reveal too much, might ultimately lead them to something they hadn't already found. There was so much to hide: the Alliance, the rebels, the dispatches from Kintish contacts, the path to Kiloran's lair, their Moorlander associates, Derlen and Mirabar, the secret chamber in her house, Ambassador Shiraj, the loyal servants who knew too much for their own safety, the body buried in her wine cellar... The
Beyah-Olvari
.

Her chest hurt so much she could hardly breathe. Blood roared in her ears. She struggled to make sense out of the chaos of her thoughts, knowing that panic would guarantee failure.

Ronall,
she thought in fearful distraction. Where in the Fires was Ronall while the Outlookers were searching the house? Had he discovered her secrets? Or was he merely a liquor-fogged bystander, as usual? Was he under arrest, too? Dead? Cleared of all suspicion?

She struggled to pull her mind back to important matters. Ronall was not her problem or her responsibility. Many lives rested on her silence now, many plans. The rebellion, the attack on Alizar... She had dedicated her entire life to the events which were about to come to pass. She would not fail now.

"Borell..." She let a pleading note creep into her voice. "I don't understand. What
traitorous activities?
I would never betr—"

"I could believe you." Borell's voice was hoarse. He nodded, gazing at her, his expression hard with misery. "Yes. You sound convincing. You look... like the woman I loved. The woman who told me how much she feared the mountain bandits, how little she knew about the Society,
how much she loved me...
"