In Legend Born

by Laura Resnick

  Of course, Elelar knew she might be riding to her death even now. Kiloran apparently believed that she'd had nothing to do with Srijan's murder. She wouldn't put it past Searlon to toy with her before assassinating her, but he'd had many opportunities to kill her or lead her into a trap during these past few days, and he hadn't done so. So she believed he was indeed taking her to the Alliance's meeting with the Imperial Advisor now. On the other hand, she had even less reason to trust the Valdani than she did the Society, so she wasn't certain she would live through this.

  Searlon said the invitation had come through an assassin the Valdani had captured and then released in the hope that he could, as he claimed, get a message to the Alliance. Elelar had resisted at first, assuming it was a trap laid by Koroll. The commander wanted them all, and he probably still wanted her more than anyone else. Indeed, Searlon himself had passed along the news that Koroll had imprisoned Ronall in the hopes of using him as some sort of bait or exchange hostage for her. Ronall! Evidently Koroll was too big a fool to realize just how unlikely Elelar was ever again to take two steps out of her way—let alone return to prison—for the sake of her husband. Anyhow, he was a Valdani aristocrat; surely keeping him in custody was the worst thing that Koroll would do to him.

  She remained suspicious about this meeting, but the Alliance had asked her to be one of the four representatives who would attend. She assumed it was because, among her associates in the Alliance, she was the closest to Josarian—though none of them realized how much that had changed. Even Searlon, whom no one would ever describe as a trusting sort of man, seemed to believe today's meeting was genuine rather than a trap. So Elelar went, praying that she wouldn't find herself right back in Shaljir's prison as a result.

  When they arrived at the crumbling ruins of a Moorlander fortress in Valdani-ruled land, Elelar saw the white flag of truce flying over a round tower that was decorated with the remnants of the demon-slaying stone creatures carved there many centuries ago by the Moorlanders.

  Someone emerged from behind the tumbling stone walls. Elelar felt relief when she recognized Toren Varian of Adalian. The old man, who had been an associate of Gaborian's for over forty years, was one of the chief authorities within the Alliance. His presence gave her hope that the meeting was indeed genuine. Searlon helped her dismount, then watched her follow Varian into the ruins. This meeting was for the Alliance only. The Imperial Council believed they could reason with aristocrats, toreni, and even wealthy merchants, but not with illiterate peasants, assassins, wizards, fire-eating mystics, and outlaws.

  "War is the business of one kind of man," Varian advised her as he guided her into a large tent flying another white flag. "And peace is the business of another."

  And the business of women is to make you all do the intelligent thing and let you believe it was your own idea all along.

  She had failed at Golnar when Josarian killed Srijan. She had failed the night Tansen had murdered Armian. Both failures had cost Sileria dearly. She vowed that she would not leave this meeting without securing peace for her people.

  Varian introduced her to Advisor Kaynall. He had obviously heard of her, and she found his gaze insultingly familiar as it traveled over her. He made some remark about envying Borell. She didn't comment, just returned his gaze coolly, hating him as she hated all Valdani. She ignored the seat he offered her, choosing another instead.

  "Tell me, torena," he said. "Just out of curiosity... After all the effort your husband invested to procure your right to an imperial trial, why did you flee Shaljir?"

  She stared at him. Realizing he meant the question seriously, she said, in the tone of one addressing the village idiot, "Because I preferred escape to death by slow torture."

  "But death by slow torture was by no means a certainty, particularly considering—"

  "I was being dragged to the cellar for that very purpose when Silerians rebels broke into the prison to rescue me. How much more certain do you think I needed to be?"

  The Advisor frowned. "That's impossible. You had been granted a trial. And surely that's why Borell killed himself—because your testimony would ruin him."

  Elelar shook her head. "No, Captain Myrell said that I had been denied a..." She stopped suddenly, realizing. "Koroll."

  Kaynall's eyes widened. She saw that he was quicker than Borell had been. "I... gather that your testimony could have damaged Commander Koroll as well as Advisor Borell?"

  "Not as much, but it would have been damaging." She leaned forward, reconstructing the events as they must have occurred. "Borell got the dispatch granting me a trial and killed himself. Koroll somehow suppressed the news before anyone else knew about it, then worked out a scheme wherein he could get away with killing me before I could embarrass him at trial."

  Following the conversation with his own quick mind, Varian guessed, "And he would have found a way to cast blame elsewhere."

  "Onto Borell, probably," Elelar mused, "who couldn't defend himself once he was dead."

  Varian smiled blandly at Kaynall. "Evidently life in Santorell Palace isn't all that different from the Palace of Heaven, which is notorious for such scheming and deception."

  Kaynall was too experienced to reveal the fury he must be feeling over the High Commander's self-serving subterfuge, or the embarrassment he must feel at having it revealed to him by an enemy—and a woman.

  The new Advisor merely returned the bland smile, then said to Elelar, "I'm afraid your husband and his family have suffered severely due to these misunderstandings. The Council honored you by granting the right of an imperial trial to a Silerian, and His Radiance considered your violent escape from prison a personal insult. It is small reparation, but I give you my personal guarantee that your husband will be released from custody the moment I return to Shaljir."

  "The Emperor, my husband, and my husband's family are all Valdani," Elelar said, "Their suffering, their sense of insult, and their freedom are of no concern to me."

  "Well." Kaynall's brows rose. "How refreshingly direct."

  "Would you care to be direct in return?" she said. "Rather than spending two days leading up to it, why don't you tell us right now, with no prevarication: What do we have to do to secure unconditional Valdani withdrawal from Sileria?"

  "Ah..." Kaynall steepled his fingers together. "I think you'll be surprised at how little we want, torena."

  "What?" she prodded.

  "Only one thing. Just one. But it's not negotiable."

  "What?"

  "We want Josarian's head."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Total and unconditional withdrawal.

  Elelar's mind reeled as she remembered that meeting amidst the ruins left by an earlier conquering race.

  The Valdani wanted only one thing in exchange for leaving Sileria: Josarian.

  She'd lost weight since returning home, unable to eat ever since Kaynall had made his startling announcement. Varian's bland reaction had told her that the price of freedom came as no surprise to him. She suspected that he and Kaynall had already talked.

  Kaynall's position was clear, and he'd been more candid than she had expected. The Valdani knew they must give up Sileria. They were going to lose it anyhow. Unless they experienced a sudden and miraculous change of fortune in their wars against the Kints and the Moorlanders, they couldn't send enough men and supplies to Sileria to win the war here. Oh, they could send more if they had to—but ultimately, not enough. In the end, the rebels would win. So the sooner the Valdani withdrew, the sooner they could divert the men, money, ships, weapons, and supplies being wasted here to the mainland, where they were badly needed.

  In case she hadn't understood the threats inherent in Kaynall's speech, he made them brutally clear. If the Alliance did not cooperate, then the Valdani would drag out the war. Yes, the rebels might well win in the end, but the Valdani would make sure it was a long, bloody victory which cost the nascent nation more than it could afford—especially after years of being looted and
impoverished by its conquerors. Though such a course of action would hurt the Empire, it would hurt Sileria far more.

  Kaynall pointed out that although immediate withdrawal from Sileria was a practical plan, it would not be a politically popular one back in Valda.

  "We are a proud people, you understand," Kaynall had said. "A people of conquest, not peace. A people who take provinces, rather than give them back."

  The Imperial Councilors therefore needed something they could show to their enemies and offer to their people in exchange for losing possession of Sileria—a backwater province that no one had ever expected to see rebel and claim its freedom. The Valdani needed something to salvage their pride upon losing Sileria. The Council had decided that this something must be the life of Sileria's most notorious rebel: the illiterate peasant whose name was now bandied about in the streets of Valda itself, the charlatan who had convinced his credulous race that he was a godlike being whose coming had been foretold by some obscure Silerian cult.

  Josarian had started this war. He was personally responsible for the deaths of thousands of Valdani, including many civilians. He was hated and feared as much in Valda as in Santorell Square. His very name stood for all that threatened the Empire in these violent, troubled times.

  The times wouldn't be so violent if the Empire would just stop attacking its neighbors, Elelar thought.

  "Peace will never be accepted by the citizens of Valdania until Josarian is dead," Kaynall had said.

  "You mean peace will never be offered by the Imperial Council until they can find a way to save face." Elelar hadn't bothered to hide her sneer.

  They had fought and bargained for days. Of course the Valdani wanted Josarian dead, Elelar had argued. They believed the rebellion would crumble without him. Why should she believe the Outlookers would withdraw from Sileria once the Alliance had helped them do what they'd never been able to do themselves—kill Josarian? Besides, what made the Valdani believe the Alliance would ever betray one of their own kind?

  "I understand there is some trouble among the rebels," Kaynall had said, carefully studying the faces of his Silerian enemies. "Not everyone is as loyal to Josarian as they once were. I merely thought..." His shrug was too suggestive to be casual.

  Kiloran betrayed Josarian to the Outlookers, and Kaynall is no fool—but how much does he know?

  If Kaynall's comment had been designed to inspire panic in his Silerian companions, then it had succeeded. Nonetheless, Elelar and her associates pretended that they had managed to repair the internal strife which had led to the ambush on Josarian, and they continued to bluff during the remaining days of negotiation.

  Since Valdani promises were worth far less than the expensive parchment they were printed on, the Alliance had proceeded to develop a detailed plan for the withdrawal, each side fulfilling certain conditions to establish mutual credibility. The war would end with the final two events cited in the treaty: The Alliance would turn Josarian over to the Valdani, and the Valdani would turn Shaljir over to the rebels. Until then, if either side failed to fulfill even one of the conditions of the agreement, then the entire treaty would be declared void.

  Should this occur, each side would undoubtedly try to gain the upper hand by exposing the other. The Alliance would use their contacts to reveal the Imperial Council's failed plans to their military enemies, their political opponents, and the discontented people of Valdania. The Valdani would show the rebels proof that the Alliance had intended to betray Josarian.

  But he is the Firebringer.

  Varian had considered Elelar's private protests and finally said, "The Firebringer's destiny is to make the foreign invaders leave Sileria. Isn't that what Josarian's death would accomplish under the terms of this plan?"

  "But—"

  "Elelar, you know how vague the prophecy is. It never tells us precisely how the Firebringer will drive out the conquerors."

  In the end, she had finally agreed. Josarian would die anyhow; Kiloran would see to that. This way, Josarian would die to free Sileria. This way, he would fulfill his destiny.

  Summoned late in the day to Kiloran's underwater palace at Kandahar, Najdan crossed his fists in front of his chest and bowed his head as he confronted his master. He was surprised to see Searlon here. Although Searlon was Kiloran's most trusted and valuable assassin, he was seldom at Kandahar; he was too useful in too many other capacities.

  Searlon was younger than Najdan and had entered the Society at a later age, but he was a man of such talents that he had soon exceeded Najdan in importance. Najdan didn't mind; he himself had come very far in life for a hungry, illiterate, fatherless shallah boy. Searlon had been born to a wealthy merchant family in Shaljir, though he had eventually followed in the footsteps of his mother's assassin brother. Yes, Searlon had started life from a better position than Najdan and had already achieved greater heights at a younger age. But Searlon had worked hard for his rewards, earning them, and Najdan begrudged nothing to a man who could honestly claim that.

  They had known each other for more than ten years and had worked together on many occasions. The two assassins greeted each other now with respect.

  "The Valdani," Kiloran announced to Najdan, "are about to give up Commander Koroll to a rebel ambush."

  Najdan didn't bother to conceal his astonishment. He could tell that Searlon already knew about this—had perhaps even brought the news to Kandahar himself.

  "Why, siran?" Najdan asked.

  "In a recent meeting, the Imperial Advisor made a secret treaty with the Alliance," Kiloran said. "Not the rebels. Just the Alliance."

  Najdan glanced at Searlon. "You were there?"

  "Not exactly. But I know what was discussed. Who said what. What threats and promises were made."

  "Presumably Koroll was not there," Najdan said dryly, wondering whether it was a Valdan or a Silerian who was sharing such volatile secrets with Searlon. Both probably. Searlon was not a man to be underestimated.

  "The Valdani choose their men poorly," Kiloran said with contempt, "and then fail to rule them well."

  The same could never be said of Najdan's master. A hunted and outlawed sorcerer did not control an army of ambitious assassins, an entire territory of Sileria, and the Honored Society itself without good judgment and shrewd tactics. Nor, Najdan acknowledged, did he do so without rewarding his men for their loyalty. Though devastated by Srijan's death, Kiloran had nonetheless greeted Najdan cordially upon his return to Kandahar and rewarded him generously for deserting Mirabar to return to his master's side.

  "The High Commander of Sileria has fallen into disfavor with his masters," Searlon said. He explained that the secret treaty included a series of exchanges of hostages, one of whom was to be Koroll—a man whom all Silerians, whatever their loyalties, had grown to hate more than any other Valdan. "Commander Cyrill will request a meeting with him halfway between Cavasar and Shaljir."

  "That's far from rebel territory," Najdan pointed out.

  "A hand-picked man of the Advisor's will assist a small rebel party in entering and leaving Valdani territory unmolested."

  "Ah." Najdan met Searlon's gaze. Thinking of the stories surrounding the ambush on Josarian, he said, more coldly than he had intended, "And that can be done, can't it?"

  Searlon merely smiled, the scar on his cheek flowing into a long and incongruous dimple.

  Resisting the insolent urge to question his master about his quarrel with the Firebringer, Najdan asked, "And what do the Valdani get out of such an exchange?"

  "The former Commander of Liron, who is apparently the cousin of an Imperial Councilor, is still being held hostage somewhere near Liron," Searlon said. "The Valdani want him back, and the Alliance can arrange it."

  "Koroll's capture... a secret treaty..." Najdan nodded slowly. "The war is ending, isn't it?"

  "The war against the Valdani, yes." Kiloran's cold, hard gaze held his. "The... disagreements among our own kind are now our primary concern."

  After all
these years, Najdan was still riveted by that gaze, awed by the shrewd and dispassionate genius behind it. "Yes, siran."

  "Fortunately," said Searlon, "it looks as if the Valdani and the Alliance are going to give us all the assistance we need."

  Tansen had suspected a trap from the beginning, so he had insisted that Josarian have no part of the scheme proposed by Elelar. Somehow the Alliance had found an ally who was in a position to betray Koroll and arrange an ambush on the road between Shaljir and Cavasar. No matter how many times Tansen questioned Elelar or how many details she provided, something about the plan bothered him.

  Politics had always bewildered him. Evidently Koroll had become such an embarrassment to his masters that they felt they'd look better if he died in combat in Sileria, rather than being transported back to Valda to face charges and execution. The Imperial Council, after all, had left a corrupt and incompetent commander in charge here through sheer ignorance and negligence, Elelar explained. Now they were eager to conceal from their people—and especially from their political opponents—how much their own carelessness had contributed to the loss of Sileria.

  "They admit they're going to lose?" Tansen had asked.

  "Well, only one or two of them. And only in secret," was Elelar's response.

  She made the plan sound logical and convincing. She also made it sound too easy. Traveling deep into Valdani territory to ambush the one man who should be better protected than any other Valdan in Sileria except the new Imperial Advisor... Well, it should not be easy.

  Yet, incredibly, it was. Everything went perfectly, just as Elelar had planned, without any of the problems which Tansen had expected and planned for. Disguised as Outlookers escorting rebel prisoners to a coastal fortress, Tansen's party of six men had been met by a quiet, cold-eyed Outlooker at the edge of rebel territory. He guided them safely to the site of the proposed ambush, traveling by night, hiding by day, and asking no questions.