In Legend Born (90 page)

"He trusts you."

Before he could respond, the
torena
turned away. A strange sadness seemed to have taken hold of her. He was perplexed, since he sensed that it had little to with him or the womanly warmth he was trying to inspire in her.

Patience
, he reminded himself. He was trying to seduce a sophisticated
torena
, not a bored
shallah
widow, some lonely Sister, or the neglected wife of a boorish rural Valdan. He had taken his time with this one, knowing she would have to be wooed carefully. Tonight might well fulfill his dreams, as long as he didn't push her. He must coax her, win her, and make her want him the way he wanted her.

She said little as they descended Dalishar, seemingly lost in thought. He didn't speak much, either, but pursued his seduction with subtle, unyielding intent. He took her hand over many rough and not-so-rough portions of the path. He let his hands linger on her slim waist whenever he helped her down from steep tumbles of rock. Noticing that she didn't object to such familiarity, he let his hands linger a little longer each time.

He wasn't sure at first, but by the time they reached the end of the trail, she was unquestionably permitting—even inviting—his attentions. Her gaze held his with silent promise more than once as he let their thighs brush together while setting her down on her feet. Her hand slipped into his on several occasions when he could tell she really needed no assistance over the path.

When they arrived at the half-ruined villa which Josarian had allocated to the
torena
and her servants, Zimran was not surprised by her invitation to join him for a quiet, private dinner. As twilight descended over Sileria and Elelar's servants left the house to participate in the religious rites being conducted in Chandar, he knew she wouldn't suggest that he, too, should leave now.

As the last dark-moon night of the year poured the scents of spring's birth through the windows, Zimran joined Elelar on the soft, imported silks covering her bed and finally reaped the rewards of his long, patient seduction of her.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The scent of spring was rich and loamy as Josarian made his way to another meeting with Kiloran. Tansen was not with him; he had gone east again, taking Jalilar with him. Lann and Falian were Josarian's companions today as he proceeded to the site he had chosen in response to Kiloran's recent message suggesting that they end this stalemate and attempt to reach an agreement. They were heading for an isolated Sanctuary in the wild mountains west of Dalishar, less than a day's hike from the sacred caves.

Ever since taking to the
torena
's bed, Zimran had been so reluctant to leave Chandar for more than a day that Josarian had decided to leave him behind. In fact, he hadn't even told him about this meeting, not having seen him recently. Besides, Josarian knew that anything he told Zimran these days was bound to reach Elelar's ears by nightfall, and he didn't need that woman lecturing him
again
about the need to cooperate with Kiloran.

Anyhow, Kiloran finally seemed ready to capitulate. Josarian could guess why, too. Liron was about to fall. Even the Valdani knew it, and the city's Valdani citizens were leaving Liron by the thousands, boarding ships sailing out of the harbor under a white flag of truce. The Outlookers would hold out, of course, and there would be a bloody battle before the city came under rebel control, but it
would
happen. After Liron fell, Adalian would not hold out for long. One by one, the cities of Sileria would fall to the rebels.

Kiloran's refusal to cooperate during the meeting at Britar was already widely known. Some Silerians were starting to mutter about this, criticizing Kiloran—whose name many people had been afraid even to say aloud in former days. But now Kiloran was defying the Firebringer and delaying the siege of Shaljir. Now Kiloran wanted Josarian to attack Shaljir without him, for his hold on Alizar and the Idalar River mattered far more to him than the additional lives that would be lost if the rebels fought for Shaljir without his help. Men weren't so shy about expressing their resentment when they knew they were more likely to die at the walls of Shaljir because Kiloran refused to help take the city. Women didn't keep their opinions to themselves when they realized that they risked losing their husbands and sons while Kiloran refused to risk losing anything at all.

Kiloran had ears everywhere and must know what people were starting to say about him. And he was too shrewd to think that even he, powerful though he was, could simply shrug off the growing tide of resentment. Sileria smelled freedom in the wind for the first time in a thousand years, and her people would not forgive anyone—not even the greatest waterlord in the world—who stood between them and their newfound dreams of liberty and glory. He would have to give in. He would
have
to compromise.

Josarian had been waiting for a summons from the old waterlord, and he had finally received it. Kiloran was ready to talk as a true ally. Josarian was pleased. When Liron fell, Valdani influence in the east would collapse. There would never be a better time to strike at Shaljir, the very heart of Valdani power in Sileria.

If the war could end this year...

If the war could end this year, then the profits the rebellion had reaped from the sacking of Alizar wouldn't all have to be spent on the war. Some of it could be used to rebuild Sileria after the Valdani left. If the war could end this year, fewer men would die. Only this year's spring planting would be disrupted; a hard enough burden, but one they could survive. But if the war dragged on another year, two years, five years...

Josarian hoped it wouldn't come to that. He could guess what it would do to his land and his people. He prayed that he was destined to wrest freedom from the Valdani quickly, forcing them to leave behind a nation that was not too devastated by war to enjoy its liberty.

While Josarian was lost in such thoughts as he approached the Sanctuary where the meeting would take place, Lann was in high spirits, still bragging about his victories in various contests of strength and endurance during the New Year's festivities. Josarian laughed at a boast so improbable it made Falian roll his eyes. Shaking his head, Josarian shoved Lann out of the way and stepped past him to announce their arrival to the Sisters.

He heard a hiss, a sudden
thwack
, and a groan. Such sounds had become so familiar during the past year that he crouched and dived for cover before conscious understanding entered his mind.

He heard Falian cry, "
Lann!
"

More arrows flew at them from every direction, whining through the clear mountain air. Falian screamed when he was hit. An arrow shuddered as it sank into a tree trunk next to Josarian's head.

Falian was hit again. Arms flailing, legs buckling, he tried to run into the Sanctuary, where Josarian could hear the Sisters screaming in sudden horror.

Struggling to get up, Lann unsheathed his long Moorlander sword and bellowed with rage.

"Stay down!" Josarian shouted at both men, keeping his head low.

Lann heard him and dragged himself into a clump of nettles. If he lived, he'd find his hiding place more painful than all the Fires. A Sister opened the door of the Sanctuary and ran outside to help Falian. An arrow went clean through her throat. She fell to the ground, clutching at her neck, drowning in her own blood. Horrified, Josarian jumped to his feet. The fletching of an arrow brushed past his cheek, and he hit the ground again.

"Get back!" he screamed at the remaining two Sisters who hovered in the Sanctuary's doorway, wanting to help the wounded but too terrified to move. "
Get back!
"

He realized that all his shouting had helped pinpoint his location for his attackers, so he crawled away on his belly, trying to form a plan, trying to
think.
Archers were the worst opponents because it was so hard to get close enough to kill them. As another arrow whizzed perilously close to him, it occurred to Josarian that Valdani archers would have needed help to get this deep into rebel territory. And they certainly hadn't come to this remote Sanctuary by chance.

Kiloran has betrayed me.

Even if there were rebels who wanted to betray him, no one except Lann and Falian had known where Josarian was going today. No one else had been present when he had given the location to Searlon, who took the news straight back to Kiloran. And Kiloran had obviously decided that the Firebringer had become too great a threat to the Society.

It was a trap.

Josarian wondered if there were assassins lurking here, too, or if Kiloran had fastidiously left the business of violating Sanctuary strictly to Valdani barbarians. He hoped the Outlookers were alone out here, since killing them would be hard enough without tangling with assassins, too.

One of the few advantages of fighting Valdani archers was that if you
could
get close to them, they were seldom as good with a sword as they were with their bows. And if he had to fight them, this wasn't such a bad spot. He had the advantage of the same dense forest and thick brush which currently hid them from view, and he was a
shallah
, not some clumsy
roshah
.

Using the same skills his father had taught him for stalking shy mountain deer and deadly mountain cats, Josarian pulled his wits together and started hunting his attackers.

In the end, they made it easier than he had hoped. He quickly and quietly killed the first one he found, strangling him with his
yahr
. The man was dressed as a city-dweller, but his equipment was that of an Outlooker. By the time Josarian found and killed another one, so much time had passed that the remaining Outlookers thought he had fled, and so they grew careless. They started tromping noisily through the brush, calling out to each other in Valdan. That made the next one easy to find. The man let out a warning shout before Josarian slit his throat—a shout so brief and vague that one of his companions thought he was being summoned and walked straight into Josarian's trap.

That made four. Wondering how many were left, Josarian heard voices in the clearing and crawled through the dense spring shrubbery until he could see what was happening. Two more thinly-disguised Outlookers had left their hiding places. They stood out in the open, looking down at the bodies of Falian and the Sister who had tried to help him. The Sister stared sightlessly up at the sky. Falian was on his belly. Four arrows had pierced his body, and a trail of blood had followed him as he crawled towards Sanctuary. A bitter bile of mingled grief and rage rose up in Josarian's throat.

Falian had been bloodcousin to Calidar. He and Josarian had played together as boys and had known each other all their lives. An innocent man, Falian had been seized and imprisoned at Britar because of Josarian's outlawry. Like Amitan, he had initially opposed the bloodfeud. Like Amitan, he had been won over and had sacrificed everything to the rebellion.

Like Amitan, now he is dead.

Josarian wanted to weep.

Dead in my name.

The guilt was unbearable, ripping into his heart as he stared at the corpse of the boyhood friend who had died in agony during an attempt on his own life.

The Outlookers looked around, argued briefly, then came to a decision. Josarian could barely hear them, but their actions were clear enough. They unsheathed their swords and started beating the bushes where Lann had disappeared. Josarian crept closer, waiting for his chance.

"Over here!" one of the men said in Valdan. "I've got him." He bent over to examine his find, then said, "He's still alive."

Josarian wondered if Lann's lack of response meant he was dying or merely unconscious. Outlookers often coated their arrowheads with strange potions and poisons. That was how they had managed to seize Tansen in Cavasar.

The other Outlooker came over to examine the first one's discovery. He cursed and jumped back, nursing a hand stung by the nettles. Then he asked, "Do you think he's Josarian?"

The first one shook his head. "Josarian is clean-shaven, they say, like most of them. This one has a beard."

"You don't see many..." The other Outlooker snapped his fingers. "This one is on the list. A great big
shallah
with a beard."

The first one glanced over his shoulder at Falian's body. "Maybe that one was Josarian?"

"With our luck, Josarian was probably the one that got away. And I doubt
this
one will tell us the truth either way." He heaved a sigh and looked at Falian again. "But Searlon can identify Josarian, so let's take the body with us."

The man who had found Lann bent over, gingerly poked through the nettles to seize Lann's hands, and then heaved. "He's as heavy as an ox!"

The other Outlooker shouted up into the surrounding forest. "We've taken one alive! Get down here and help!" Receiving no immediate response, he scowled and added more harshly, "
Now
, damn it! We've got to get out of here. The one that got away may come back with a hundred rebels by sundown, so get y—"