In Legend Born (75 page)

There was no denying that the
torena
was fully devoted to the cause, but Mirabar detested her all the same: so smug, so superior, so arrogant. So manipulative. Some men couldn't see past her allure and fell completely under her spell. It might be helpful to the rebellion when Elelar used her talents to entrap the
roshaheen
, but it was disgusting when she did it to her own kind. Tansen, Mirabar had realized, knew precisely what that woman was, yet even he gave into her wiles. He was worse than the other fools! He knew better, yet he couldn't stay free of the
torena
's web, even so.

Now it seemed that Elelar had lost control of one of her spells. According to Derlen, Borell's rage was reputed to be more personal than political, for he had believed that Elelar was in love with him. He had even intended to marry her. Mirabar might be a stranger to the dance between man and woman, but she nonetheless knew how much a man hated to be made a fool of by a woman.
Especially
the woman who slept in his bed. By the time the Alliance had found an escape route for Derlen, the rumor was apparently all over Shaljir that Borell had raped and beaten the
torena
upon arresting her. It was so widely known because he'd been indiscreet enough to assault her in the guardhouse of one of the city's busiest gates. 

Mirabar shuddered with revulsion, part of her full of pity for the
torena
and an empathetic rage at the Advisor. This was how men dealt with their female enemies. It was as humiliating and debasing as it was painful. Mirabar might loathe the
torena
, but she nonetheless wished she could incinerate Borell's parts for what he had done to the woman. In the mountains, bloodvows were sworn for such an offense, and bloodfeuds began over such an outrage. However, Mirabar doubted that Elelar's Valdani relations-by-marriage would slay Borell as he deserved. What a pity.

Naturally, she hadn't told Tansen about this. She'd already known how much she risked even in telling him about Elelar's imprisonment. She had wanted to be the one to inform him of the
torena
's capture so that she'd also have a chance to try to stop the insane thing she knew he'd want to do upon hearing the news. If she had told him about Borell, too... There was no telling what Tansen would do. Borell deserved to suffer for what he had done to Elelar after arresting her, but Mirabar didn't intend to lose a prophesied warrior by encouraging him to break into Santorell Palace to fulfill a bloodvow.

If Tansen actually succeeded in getting the
torena
out of prison, Mirabar hoped that Elelar had the wit to keep her mouth shut about Borell, at least until they were safely away from Shaljir and it was too late for Tansen to turn back.

Here at Idalar, there were important matters to occupy Mirabar while she worried about what would happen in Shaljir. To her surprise, Kiloran had convinced representatives from the major clans among the lowlanders of the western and central districts of Sileria to meet with Josarian. They'd been brought here by assassins, who had blindfolded them while escorting them to Kiloran's camp, lest any of them consider betraying rather than joining the rebellion. Even more surprising—astonishing, in truth—was the arrival of ten leaders of the sea-born folk.

Having never been to the coast, Mirabar had never before seen the sea-born, since they rarely ventured inland. Indeed, many of them never even left their boats. Sea-born folk might go their whole lives without ever once setting foot on dry land. Mirabar repressed a shudder; her experiences at Lake Kandahar had given her a general distaste for large bodies of water. However, the sea-born were, for Silerians, relatively free of the influence of Kiloran and the Society. The waterlords had no power over the sea, a domain ruled solely by the powerful gods worshipped by the sea-born folk.

Fascinated by their exotic appearance, Mirabar studied them with unconcealed curiosity. The sea-born studied her in turn, for they, too, had heard about her. Unlike the
shallaheen
, however, they hadn't been raised to fear someone like her, so their gazes merely revealed interest. 

The lowlanders and the sea-born folk were enthused about the destruction of Alizar, where many of their own kind, too, had been imprisoned over the centuries. They were impressed by the rebellion's control of the territory all around Dalishar and properly respectful of the rebels' daily attacks on Valdani targets. Yes, they knew that the imperial military forces were over-extended on the mainland and therefore couldn't send the amount of men, money, and supplies they would have sent to Sileria only a year ago, had the rebellion begun then.
However
... They also suspected that an Outlooker force which the greatest empire in history might consider barely sufficient could nonetheless be a greater force than the rebels of one long-impoverished imperial province could ultimately vanquish.

True, they admitted, all of Sileria was in turmoil now. There were riots in every city except Shaljir, and additional Outlookers were arriving slowly.
However
... The Empire would fight hard to keep Sileria, because possession of the vast island nation was essential for control of the Middle Sea. The Valdani may have grown careless and overconfident, but they knew how important Sileria was to the Empire and would strive to keep it once they began to truly fear losing it.

"So why are you
here?
" Mirabar asked irritably, bored after listening to too much of this sort of thing and tired of struggling with common Silerian, a language she seldom needed in the mountains.

Oh, the lowlanders and the sea-born folk were interested in the rebellion, they assured the rebel leaders. They just had more to lose than hunted Guardians, outlawed waterlords and assassins, and impoverished
shallaheen
, so they were more cautious.

Kiloran, who was growing impatient, too, suggested they go home now and perhaps come back after the long rains—if they were feeling less cautious by then. He had no need of allies who evidently weren't willing to enter a war without guarantees.

"We don't want guarantees,
siran
," said a spokesman for the lowlanders. "Just assurances."

"Just
one
assurance, actually," said an elder of the sea-born folk.

Josarian shook his head. "The only assurance we can give you is that we will fight until the Valdani are gone or every rebel in Sileria is dead. There is nothing else we can offer you."

The sea-born elder and the lowlander exchanged a glance. It was subtle, but Mirabar saw it. And then she knew why they had decided to come here now. She knew what they were going to say next. She knew—yet she couldn't believe it.

"There is only one assurance required," the tattooed old man said to Josarian. "And you are the only one who can provide it."

Josarian looked puzzled for a moment, and then Mirabar saw that he knew, too. A series of conflicting emotions washed across his face as the lowlander explained. 

"We know what they say in the mountains about you. They've started saying it in the lowlands, too, and along the coasts. They're starting to say it in the heart of the cities. Perhaps they're even saying it in Shaljir itself."

Kiloran started muttering. His words were indistinguishable, but his glower would have silenced men whose mission was any less imperative than this one was. The waterlord's disapproval cast a physical chill on the proceedings, but his guests did not back down or hesitate.

"If you are the Firebringer," the old fisherman said, "then the sea-born folk will join the rebellion. We will fight in your name, and we will not stop, either, until the Valdani are gone or we are all dead."

"So will we. We will serve prophecy and the destiny of Sileria," said the lowlander. "If you are the Firebringer."

"If you prove it," said the old man.

"According to the prophecy," said the lowlander.

The old man fixed Josarian with a hard, uncompromising gaze. "If you enter the volcano and survive, we will join you. And the rest of Sileria will soon join us, too."

"And if not?" Josarian asked, looking stunned.

The old man shrugged, his face shrewd and calculating. "If not... Can the rebellion grow fast enough to repel the tens of thousands of Outlookers the Valdani are probably trying to free from duty on the mainland and ship to Sileria even as we speak?"

"If Josarian dies at Darshon," Mirabar said angrily to the old man, "then what happens to the rebellion?"

"Ah,
sirana
, if he refuses to go to Darshon now," the old man replied, "what, indeed, happens to the rebellion?"

Wearing clothing borrowed from Kiloran's obsequious but elegant mistress, Faradar followed Tansen's instructions and posed as a
torena
when they entered Shaljir through the old Kintish Gate. During interrogation by the Outlookers guarding the gate, she identified herself as
Toren
Porsall's half-Valdani wife and claimed that the two scruffy
shallaheen
with her were loyal lifelong servants, from her country estate, whom her husband had ordered to accompany her to Shaljir. She hated city life, she informed the Outlookers, but her husband insisted that the countryside had grown too dangerous for her. After all, she'd already been kidnapped by Josarian and his rebel bandits! Who knew when they would return to slaughter her in her own bed?

It was a plausible story, since more than a few people who feared the rebels were fleeing to Shaljir these days. Faradar was well-spoken and elegant enough to pass for a rural half-Silerian aristocrat, and Zimran had provided her with a wealth of details about the private life of the woman she was impersonating, which she chattered about to the Outlookers in a convincingly empty-headed manner. Zimran and Tansen were unarmed and properly subservient.

Their weapons were wrapped in silk and tightly strapped to the insides of Faradar's legs beneath her baggy pantaloons; this was why Tansen had wanted a woman to accompany him to Shaljir. He couldn't feasibly rescue Elelar without his swords, and he knew he would be searched, like all other men, upon entering Shaljir. It was, however, hard to imagine even the Outlookers sticking their hands between the legs of a respectable half-Valdani
torena
whose reasons for coming to Shaljir were similar to those of many hundreds of other people in these violent times. They'd taken a horse from Kiloran's camp, too, since no
torena
was likely to walk to Shaljir. However, Faradar couldn't mount and dismount with steel swords strapped to her legs, especially not in front of the Outlookers. So they arrived on foot, leading the horse and claiming it had grown footsore just before their arrival at the Kintish Gate.

Tansen expected the plan to work, but he was nonetheless very relieved when the Outlookers let them go and turned their attention to the next new arrivals.

They stabled the horse at an establishment close to the city walls. They didn't expect to need it again, but they couldn't just turn it loose in the city. Then Tansen led his companions to the same inn where he had once taken Josarian. After asking the keeper to contact the Beyah-Olvari for him, he and Faradar privately explained to an alternately stunned and skeptical Zimran precisely whose realm they were all about to enter. Tansen also warned him what he would do to him if he ever betrayed the Beyah-Olvari. Faradar was shocked by his threat, but Zimran looked as if he'd expected no better of Tansen.

They were taken to the Olvar that very night. The Beyah-Olvari were as loyal to Elelar as they had been to Gaborian, her grandfather. They had shielded Elelar's trusted servants until the Alliance could arrange for their escape from Shaljir, and they were ready and willing to help Tansen free the
torena
.

The Olvar confirmed that the vast network of ancient tunnels under Shaljir led, among other places, to subterranean caves near the Kintish prison.

"Then we'll find a way in," Tansen said with determination.

"
Is
there one?" Zimran asked the Olvar.

The Olvar swayed with uncertainty. "We have never tried to find one..."

"There's water going into the prison and sewage flowing out," Tansen said. "We'll find a way in from the tunnels."

"Sewage," Zimran repeated without enthusiasm.

"We'll need a guide to take us to the right part of the tunnels."

"Yes. We will assist you in entering the prison," the Olvar vowed.

"But your people must stay below," Tansen said.

"No." The Olvar almost sounded argumentative. "The time has come—"

"Not yet." Tansen shook his head. "There will be violence and killing in the prison,
siran
. That's not the work of the Beyah-Olvari."

The Olvar sagged, his body trembling with sorrow as he stirred his hands in the Sacred Pool. "It is always so with your people, isn't it?"

"Always," Tansen agreed without expression.