In Legend Born (87 page)

Mirabar had fully recovered from her ordeal atop Mount Darshon by the time she arrived at Kandahar, accompanied by Najdan. She had no doubt that Kiloran already knew what had occurred at Darshon, since he knew everything that happened in Sileria. Her duty now, explained to her by Josarian before they had parted company, was to convince Kiloran to obey the Firebringer's orders.

From the rim of the volcano to the depths of Kiloran's underwater palace... Such a life was enough to make even a Guardian feel a little faint-hearted. She almost wished the Beckoner had chosen someone else to bring the will of the Otherworld to the people of Sileria.

Actually, she was starting to fear that he
had
chosen someone else, or had at least decided to abandon her. He had not come to her since long before Darshon, and she was increasingly worried that he might never come again. Was the Beckoner's work done? Had she failed him? Had he chosen another Guardian? Why was he silent? Such questions plagued Mirabar night and day by now.

When she and Najdan reached Lake Kandahar, they found Cheylan awaiting them along its shores, beneath a sky filled with storm clouds; the long rains were finally coming. Mirabar had known Cheylan was here and had looked forward to seeing him again. Perhaps she could even discuss these fears about the Beckoner with him. She thought he would understand in a way that ordinary people could not. So she was disappointed to learn he was leaving Kandahar.

"I was only delaying my departure until I could greet you," he said, taking her hands in his.

Mirabar ignored the way Najdan glowered at them both. "Where are you going?"

"A runner came from Josarian two days ago, ordering me to go east again."

"Oh." She looked away, feeling awkward and unsure of herself.

"I'm sorry," he added. "I had hoped we could talk more."

"Me, too."

"
Sirana
, perhaps we should go pay our respects to my master now." Najdan's tone could have frozen water.

"You go ahead," she replied. "I'll join you in a moment."

The assassin considered this course of action, clearly reluctant to leave her alone with Cheylan. Mirabar was about to speak sharply to him when Cheylan intervened by saying, "I believe Searlon is taking his leave of your master even as we speak. Perhaps you would like to join them?"

"Yes," Najdan said. "
Sirana,
we should—"

"I doubt they'd want a Guardian to intrude," Cheylan said innocently. "I'll keep the
sirana
company here until Searlon leaves and Kiloran is ready to receive her. Agreed?"

Najdan scowled but evidently decided not to make a scene. As he curtly excused himself from their presence, a crystal-hard path started magically forming in the water, leading out to the center of the lake. Najdan followed it, then disappeared into the water's depths, going to join his own kind in Kiloran's lair.

Mirabar's chest felt tight as she turned back to Cheylan. "I wish you could stay, at least for a little while."

"So do I." He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. "But I have been ordered to return to Verlon's side immediately."

"But didn't he... I've heard that he once swore a bloodvow against you."

"Yes, that's true."

"Then why does Josarian keep sending you to him?"

Cheylan shrugged. "Because I am useful there. I know Verlon better than anyone except his most trusted assassins."

She frowned. "But how? You're a Guardian, and he's a waterlord."

Cheylan hesitated for a moment, then said, "Verlon is my grandfather."

Chapter Thirty-Five

The long rains brought water to a perpetually thirsty land, softening the fields for spring planting, conditioning the gossamer leaves for another harvest, and filling Sileria's rivers, lakes, and wells. The rainy season was the traditional time for most abductions, since it was when the Society most needed income. The waterlords' power was at its lowest ebb during the brief season when water was so plentiful in Sileria.

If Kiloran planned to deprive Shaljir of water, Commander Koroll knew, he would have to wait until after the long rains had stopped. Nothing could turn back the Idalar River, not even Kiloran's power, when it was close to overflowing its own banks and rushing into Shaljir like a bridegroom coming to his bride's bed.

This was, however, the only consolation that the season offered to Koroll. Otherwise, the war in Sileria had become such a disaster that even he no longer believed he could save himself with clever tactics and shrewd strategy.

Just before the harvest began, the sea-born folk and the lowlanders had joined the rebellion. The Valdani hadn't realized this for a while, of course, since the rebels didn't send them an announcement. Koroll found out about it when the port of Cavasar was sacked by sea-born folk and an arriving Valdani warship was destroyed. Commander Cyrill, young, inexperienced, and already distressed by the disgrace and death of Borell, his uncle, still hadn't gotten the city back under control since the unprecedented attack.

Now it was nearly spring, nearly the New Year. Almost one year exactly since Josarian had killed two Outlookers and commenced the most unexpected rebellion in history. No one had believed this could happen here. Not in
Sileria,
a land which hadn't been free since the ancient days when Valda had been an obscure village situated between two empires.

Now Valdania, the greatest empire which had ever existed, was on the verge of losing one of its humblest possessions. One which previous empires had lost only to
greater
conquerors, not to a bunch of native peasants. It was a humiliation which would destroy Koroll's life and make his name reviled for centuries after his death.

Since the start of the long rains, Josarian had struck out from Dalishar, conquering the surrounding region, expanding his territory day by day. At the moment, Koroll estimated that at least one-third of Sileria was now under Josarian's control. Probably more, since the rebellion's influence had spread into many isolated corners of Sileria which Koroll didn't have enough Outlookers to patrol and maintain.

Unlike Koroll, Josarian wasn't having trouble feeding his men, either. The lowlanders had already seized over one hundred of the richest Valdani estates in Sileria, attacking with such shocking brutality that some landowners were now voluntarily abandoning their land
before
it was attacked, even if this meant returning to Valda as paupers. Some of these cowards were important enough to get an audience with the Emperor upon returning home, meaning the Imperial Council was regularly sending dispatches to Koroll demanding to know why the Outlookers in Sileria were no longer able to protect some of the Empire's wealthiest (or formerly wealthiest) citizens.

The rebels left Silerian landowners alone—if they declared their loyalty to the rebellion and formally severed all connection with the Valdani government in Sileria. More
toreni
families were doing this than anyone would ever have expected—and not always out of fear for their lives, either. There was a rumor spreading through Sileria which dwarfed every other wildly improbable story Koroll had ever heard from these people. Now they were actually saying that Josarian had flung himself into the fiery heart of Mount Darshon's volcano and survived, proving that he was the Firebringer, the long-prophesied warrior who would drive out Sileria's conquerors and free his people from foreign domination.

The legend was an old one. Koroll didn't know much about it, since even most Silerians had never seemed to give it much credit. He had seen mad, wild-eyed
zanareen
proselytizing and seeking new converts. But what society didn't have its strange cults and crazy fanatics, after all? It had never occurred to him that Josarian would find a way to make use of the legend, or that so many Silerians—including those who should know better—secretly half-believed the ancient prophecy and would succumb to the lies of the first charlatan who claimed to have fulfilled it.

Yet even in the heart of Shaljir, the most sophisticated city in Sileria, people seemed to believe the wild tales spread by the
zanareen
. In fact, Koroll had decided to issue a decree forbidding
zanareen
to enter the city anymore. Meanwhile, with the mountains, coasts, and lowlands now all under siege, slipping through the Empire's grasp, the cities, which had always been the heart of Valdani power here, were no longer secure, either.

Liron's overland supply routes were now under rebel control. Between attacks by Kintish pirates and Silerian sea-born folk, no Valdani supply ship had managed to reach Liron's port since before the rains began. Without more support from the mainland—and
soon
—Liron would fall. The rebels were already starving the city. When they thought the time was right, they would storm it and slaughter every Valdan they found within its walls.

Riots had begun in Adalian soon after Josarian had sent fifty Outlooker corpses to the gate of the city, and things had grown worse there in the following months. The last three ships to leave Adalian had never reached Valda. It was believed they were destroyed by Moorlanders who had been alerted by the Silerians.

The Outlookers' thorough search of
Torena
Elelar's house had exposed evidence of a complex network of secret rebels, informants, and Silerian loyalists working against the Valdani. Months of investigation had revealed only a little more about this network, which apparently called itself the Alliance. Based in Shaljir, its tentacles spread across the island, organizing Sileria's disparate peoples into an effective force under Josarian's leadership. Since Elelar had apparently been an important member of this secret society, the Imperial Councilors were now very interested in it. They reasoned that if one aristocrat had been involved, then there must be others; and aristocrats, whatever their nationality, could reason with each other. Peasants, bandits, foreign wizards, and outlawed religious cults could not be expected to think or act sensibly. But an organized network of intelligent, literate aristocrats connected to Josarian? Yes, this interested the Council enormously in view of the growing disaster in Sileria. Koroll had been instructed to find out how the Council could contact the Alliance to negotiate an end to hostilities.

Negotiate an end to hostilities...

Koroll thought the phrase had an ominous ring to it. There could be no negotiation with
Silerians
, as he had tried to explain to the Emperor and his blasted Council in several recent dispatches. They were a violent, untrustworthy, superstitious people. Their history was nothing but a long list of betrayals—meaning they would certainly betray any accord reached with the Valdani.
Torena
Elelar had been the wife of one Valdan and the mistress of another, and yet look at what
she
had done to Valdania. She personified the treachery of her despicable race!

Josarian and his followers had made it very clear ever since Commander Daroll's death in Emeldar that they had no interest in compromise and no wish to discuss living peacefully under Valdani rule again. They weren't interested in more lenient laws or paying less tribute to the Emperor. They wanted the Valdani out of Sileria, and they would not settle for anything less. This was not the time to negotiate.
This
was the time for all-out war against a conquered race now rising up against their masters. This was the moment when the Empire must demonstrate before the world what a terrible fate befell anyone who challenged Valdani supremacy!

The Imperial Council, alas, was interested in more glamorous conquests. The Councilors were convinced they could conquer the free Moorlands at last, if they could only free up more men, money, and weapons to do it. A major Valdani victory against the Moorlanders had recently strengthened their resolve and rallied a flagging populace to this cause once again. And Emperor Jarell... he saw the Throne of Heaven even in his
sleep
, Koroll suspected, so badly did he want it before he died. The northernmost city of the Kintish Kingdoms had just fallen, and this victory spurred the Emperor on, convincing him that his goal was within reach.

In view of such glory, the Emperor and his Council were unwilling to make the necessary sacrifices to retain one impoverished province conquered long ago, especially now that the mines of Alizar yielded them no profits. Koroll sent dispatches reminding them how important Sileria was to control of the Middle Sea, as they had once reminded him not so long ago. He sent dispatches reminding them that he
was
still trying to do something about the mines of Alizar. The only response was a scathing request that he estimate just how much more time he expected to spend trying to break the power of some Silerian water wizard who was costing the Emperor a fortune every single day. Every dispatch Koroll sent was accompanied by a request for more men, money, weapons, and supplies. He received less than he requested on every occasion, and only very slowly. Sometimes he merely received stern advice to stop "wasting" the men and supplies he'd
already
been given.