Elelar's heart pounded. "What must I do to save Sileria?"
"You must surrender."
Her stomach clenched with fear. "Surrender?"
"When the one with eyes of fire comes for you, you must not resist."
By the time Tansen finished giving everyone their orders, as well as preparing the men Lann had picked for the raid he was planning, he was exhausted. And he still had a long journey ahead of him. There had already been enough delays since Josarian's death, so he knew he must leave now. He couldn't afford to lose more time.
That sudden, terrifying earthquake earlier today had made everyone jumpy, and few things caused more dread among the shallaheen than seeing Dar throw a tantrum. Smoke had billowed wildly out of Darshon's caldera for hours, blackening the sky and creating an oppressive atmosphere.
The worst part of the day, though, had been those few moments at the start of the earthquake when someone told him Mirabar and Zarien were inside the sixth cave. Even now, his heart hadn't quite recovered from the plunge it had taken then. He still remembered the wild flood of relief he'd felt upon bumping into them at the rear of the first chamber as they made their frantic escape. His hands, steady against every opponent he'd ever faced, had been shaking.
Now, as the smoke-darkened sky over Dalishar threatened to bring on an early night, Tansen finished examining the clothes he had ordered Sister Rahilar to dye black. Then he asked for Najdan and Mirabar. He didn't have any important orders for the assassin, who he already knew would protect Mirabar with his life, but he didn't think she'd want to be alone with him again so soon after what had happened earlier today. He wasn't sure he wanted to be alone with her, either.
When they sat down with him, Tansen said to Mirabar, "I want you to leave for Zilar in the morning. I want the people there to see you, to see how powerful you are, and to hear from your own lips that you've had a vision about the coming of a new Yahrdan."
"Where will you be?"
"I'll meet you in Zilar," he promised. "I've got something I need to do first."
"Something that requires you to dress like an assassin?" Najdan asked with a glance at Sister Rahilar, who was packing the black-dyed clothes.
"Yes."
"Something that involves those shir and jashareen you took from those bodies yesterday?"
"Yes."
"Ah," Najdan said. "A good idea."
"What's a good idea?" Mirabar asked impatiently.
"He's going to begin sowing distrust among the waterlords," Najdan said.
"They'll be hard enough to defeat individually," Tansen said, keeping his voice low. "Unless we can destroy their unity, we haven't got a chance."
Mirabar figured it out. "Who are you going to attack?"
"Wyldon. He still resides, as far as I know, in the Amalidar Mountains south of Lake Kandahar. With luck, he'll think Kiloran is trying to eliminate him so he can take over his territory."
"And Wyldon is loud," Najdan said.
"Precisely. If he believes it, he'll tell his troubles to others—and convince some of them that they may be next."
"What about Baran?" Mirabar asked. "He sided with Josarian against Kiloran. Among the waterlords, surely he's our best chance of an ally."
"He is," Tansen agreed. "Baran's half-mad and wholly unpredictable, but there's a chance he might join us just to thwart Kiloran again. And he's strong enough for his defection to hurt the Society. That's why I'm sending a message to him, taken by Sister Velikar, offering our friendship and asking for his."
"Velikar?" Mirabar repeated incredulously.
"Yes, well, I needed a Sister who isn't afraid of waterlords," he said. "Even one as volatile as Baran."
"Ah, but will Velikar frighten Baran?" Najdan asked dryly.
"She's a strange ambassador," Tansen agreed, "but these are strange times."
"About Zilar..." Mirabar said slowly. "There's more you should know."
"About your visions?"
"Yes. I think the new Yahrdan will be a child."
Tansen's heart took another plunge. "Could it be Zarien? Could that be why—"
"I don't think so." She told him about bringing the sea goddess forth in the Guardian flames.
"No wonder Zarien's been looking so stunned all afternoon," he said wryly. "I thought it was just the earthquake."
In the irritating manner Tansen had learned to expect of visions and Otherworldly matters, Sharifar hadn't come right out and said whether or not he was the sea king. However, she had advised Zarien to stay with Tansen and predicted that Tansen would lead the boy home.
"That's open to almost any interpretation," he protested.
"I can guess what interpretation the boy will place on it," Najdan said.
"So can I." He asked Mirabar, "But you don't think his coming here is related to your visions?"
She shrugged, her expression revealing some of her own frustration. "I don't know. I don't think so, but..." She sighed. "A child of fire, a child of water, a child of sorrow..."
"The child you're looking for will be all of those things?"
"Perhaps," she said vaguely.
"Fire and water?"
She heard his doubt. "I know, I know."
"And you have no idea who it could be?" Tansen prodded.
"Actually..."
"What?"
"The first time I ever met Cheylan, he told me of a child who lives in the east. A Guardian boy named Semeon." Mirabar took a deep breath and added, "A child like me."
Tansen saw from Najdan's surprised expression that she had kept this a secret until now. "Can he find this boy?"
"Yes, though it may take time," she said.
"He's going east again in the morning. I'll speak to him before I leave today and tell him to search for this boy—Semeon?—and put him some place safe where you can meet him."
Mirabar nodded, then changed the subject. "I think you may be right about Shaljir."
"About not attacking it?"
She nodded. "The Beckoner says the Valdani will leave Sileria."
Tansen said, "We've believed that for months. I just want to know how much more blood we'll have to shed to make them do it. How many more of us will have to die to get rid of them?"
"That question," she admitted, "the Beckoner did not address."
"No, of course not."
She looked perturbed. "I only repeat—"
"I know."
"If I knew more—"
"I know." He eyed her warily. "So perhaps I've done the best thing." Without Elelar, who in Shaljir could speak on their behalf to the Valdani, after all?
Mirabar's expression was hot and cold at once as she replied, "I didn't say that."
Tansen sighed. "Never mind. Is there anything else you should tell me?"
"Nothing I can think of now."
He looked at Najdan. "I've arranged for six men to accompany you. It's all I can spare right now. Travel only by day, stay in Sanctuary every night, and don't let her out of your sight." When the assassin nodded in acknowledgement, he added, "Stay well away from the Zilar River until you get north of the delta where it flows into the Shaljir River." It was unlikely that Kiloran's power extended that far. As far as Tansen knew, the Shaljir River was still under the control of two brothers, Abidan and Liadon, neither one of whom was strong enough to control it alone.
"We will," Najdan said.
Tansen rose to his feet when Mirabar did. Their gazes locked in the strange light of the smoke-clouded afternoon.
"Until Zilar," she said and turned away.
"Until Zilar." He watched her go.
"Perhaps you should consider sheep, after all," Najdan mused.
"What?" He stared at the assassin.
Najdan shook his head. "Never mind."
Zarien sputtered with outrage as he protested to Tansen, "I'm not staying up here, on the roof of the world, with ensorcelled fires and earthquakes and attacking assassins—"
"There won't be any more assass—"
"We're posting—"
"And that's not the point!" Zarien said. "The point is, I came all this way to find you, and I will not stay—"
"It isn't safe—"
"—alone here in this strange place!"
"You won't be alone," said Tansen. "I'm leaving Sister Rahilar and a number of men here."
Not wishing to be rude, Zarien lowered his voice as he said, "These are landfolk."
"So am I."
"Sharifar said—"
"Please, let's not go over this again."
Zarien fell silent, burning with frustration the way his neck still burned where the assassin had pressed a shir to it yesterday. Tansen stubbornly refused to accept what the goddess had told Zarien when called forth in that strange fire.
By the winds, my hand hurts!
Sister Rahilar had dressed it for him, and her burnt offerings and strange chanting had actually made it feel better for a while, but now it was bothering him again. He should have made one of those Guardians retrieve the stahra from their damned fire, but everything was so confusing, so terrifying once that earthquake started, he had reached into the flames without thinking.
"I will not be left here," Zarien said.
"I'm not leaving you here permanently." Tansen's voice was getting edgy with irritation.
"You're not leaving me here at a—"
"Enough!" Tansen rose to his feet. "You will stay here. I will either send for you or come back for you. That's the way it will be, Zarien."
Heart pounding, Zarien rose to his feet, too, and looked up into the warrior's dark eyes. "Or?" he challenged.
Tansen lifted one brow. "Or I will never, under any circumstances, no matter what, go to sea with you."
Zarien's jaw dropped. "But—but—"
"Be polite to the Sister while I'm gone and let her help your feet get better. Understood?"
Zarien studied his face, trying to determine if he really meant it, if Tansen could really be that stubborn, inflexible, and willful.
Stay in the current you have found.
"This is for the best," Tansen assured him. "Trust me."
Follow him until you cannot.
"Zarien?"
He realized Tansen was awaiting an answer. "Um..."
Tansen sighed. "I know this is a pointless—even foolish—thing to say to someone your age, but... Do as you're told, all right?"
"Where are you going?" Zarien asked.
"Oh, to make new enemies." Tansen smiled wryly. "It's what I do best. Winning friends... That was what Josarian did best."
"You miss him," Zarien said suddenly, surprised again that Tansen was so human, so like other men in some ways. It wasn't what he had expected of the legendary warrior, let alone the sea king.
Tansen nodded. "Yes, I miss him. The way you miss your brother, I am sure."
"Brothers," Zarien corrected absently. "I had two."
"Had?" Tansen asked, peering at him. "Is your family—"
"I mean," he said quickly, "Morven and Orman. Two. When I was at sea."
He wasn't going to tell Tansen the rest. It was his private shame, and not one he cared to expose to Tansen, second only to Josarian in glory and greatness.
Tansen slapped Zarien on the back. "Two brothers? That's good fortune. And your family will be happy to see you alive again."
"Yes." Zarien added, "But I'll be banished, even so."
Tansen frowned. "Maybe not, under the circumstances."
It was his own secret hope, but he said bravely, "There has never been an exception. The sea-bound never even speak the name of someone who has gone ashore."
"I'll talk to them."
"You're a drylander, they won't care what you—" Zarien clapped a hand over his mouth as he realized what he had said.
"Ah, you see?" Tansen grinned. "Even you aren't as sure as you pretend to be."
Stay in the current you have found.
"I only meant—"
"I have to go," Tansen said. "But we'll meet again soon, Zarien. I promise."
"Yes, Tansen."
He came to his decision the moment Tansen turned away from him. He intended no disrespect, he truly didn't. But the dictates of a goddess must come before those of a man.
Follow him until you cannot.
Chapter Sixteen
It takes only three things to become a waterlord:
a great talent, a terrible thirst,
and a heart of stone.
—Kiloran
He was the greatest waterlord in all of Sileria.
He had dominated a vast territory of this island, the jewel of the Middle Sea, for more than thirty years, rising to preeminence in the Honored Society during the bloody feuding and chaos which had followed Harlon's death nearly forty years ago. Now an old man, he continued to hone and increase his power over water at an age when most other waterlords had been dead for years. Some said he was not only the greatest waterlord in Sileria, but the greatest since Marjan himself, the very first waterlord; yes, perhaps even the greatest waterlord who had ever lived.
It was true, Kiloran knew. He was the best.
Not because he had more talent. If truth be known, he privately believed he had less talent than Harlon had had, and he secretly suspected that Baran was the most talented water wizard he'd ever seen. But they were ruled by their emotions. Harlon had invariably acted without thought, driven by his hot temper and blood-thirsty nature. And Baran, whose sanity was frequently questioned... Oh, yes, Kiloran knew what ruled Baran: heartsick longing, hatred, and the lust for vengeance.
He should thank me. Hating me gave him the will to develop his talent.
Nor was Kiloran the best because he was the cruelest or most ruthless. Cruelty was merely a weapon to Kiloran, ruthlessness an exercise in common sense. Whereas cruelty was a passion for some of them—Verlon, for example—and ruthlessness a pleasure in which they reveled. In fact, Verlon was even older than Kiloran, but did that fool have power and influence to match Kiloran's? No, of course not.
The lesser waterlords in Sileria, of which there were nearly one hundred, were mostly younger, less experienced, and less talented than Kiloran. This was irrelevant; young men eventually grew older and gained experience, after all, and Kiloran had already proven that talent was merely one factor in the struggle for ultimate power.
What mattered was that Kiloran had yet to see anyone among the lesser waterlords who possessed the one thing which could threaten him, the one quality that set him apart from the others: the cold intelligence which had ensured his ascendancy in the face of overwhelming odds and opposition, a shrewd cunning that had kept him at the head of the Honored Society longer than most assassins had even been alive.
It was fortunate, he reflected, that Searlon had never shown even the slightest hint of a gift for water magic. As an assassin, he was invaluable—and unfailingly loyal. If he had ever shown promise as a waterlord, though, then there would have been trouble.
Armian had been the sort of ally Kiloran knew he could control. A talented, bold, educated, quick-thinking man of courage and decisive action, Armian had nonetheless been wild and emotional, prone to reckless violence, sensual appetites, and unthinking sentimentality. His ill-considered devotion to that quiet, serious, willful peasant boy, for example... Then again, a father's love was a common weakness, even a noble one. Kiloran himself had loved his son Srijan, despite the lad's many faults.
Ah, mistakes. They are so easily made. Especially when we love...
Yes, he could have handled Armian as an ally, as he had handled so many others, some of them even—as in the case of Torena Elelar—unwitting to the alliance. But Searlon... No, Searlon would have been too dangerous an apprentice to water magic, too ungovernable a waterlord. Kiloran would have had to exercise a little sensible ruthlessness and eliminate him, had he been so gifted. Searlon's intelligence, like Kiloran's, ruled his passions, governed his appetites, and kept his judgment clear.
This was the quality that made a man superior to others, as well as more dangerous than the rest. It was the quality which made Searlon a servant who inspired envy among the other waterlords and respect—not to mention healthy competition—among Kiloran's other assassins. And it was the quality that made Kiloran the greatest waterlord in Sileria.
Could any other waterlord have beaten the Firebringer? He thought not. Did the others imagine he did it with sheer talent? Did the rest of them believe that his craving for vengeance, after Josarian had murdered Srijan, was so strong it superceded Dar's divine power? Well, let them think it. It was not Kiloran's duty to set them straight, to explain how the world worked or to teach them how power was exercised most effectively.
When Josarian assumed the mantle of the Firebringer, Kiloran understood the danger in a way that none of the others did. Power is much easier to withhold than it is to take away, he had told Elelar when the rift began to develop between him and Josarian.
Unlike so many others, Kiloran knew the difference between someone who must be managed carefully and someone who must be eliminated. A lava-eyed peasant like Mirabar, gifted with prophecy and blessed with extraordinary fire sorcery, was very dangerous, of course; but she had been more valuable alive than dead. Besides, the girl was no leader, and half the shallaheen in Sileria would probably still go screaming into the night if they came upon her suddenly in the dark. A father-slaying sriliah like Tansen could be allowed to live for a little while longer, Kiloran had initially decided, if it meant ridding Sileria of the Valdani; so he had rescinded his bloodvow.
Even Josarian, a charismatic rebel leader, hadn't been a threat in the beginning. After all, the one thing everyone in Sileria had in common—the only thing—was that they all hated the Valdani and wanted them to leave. Josarian's gift was that he had been able to make everyone in Sileria willing to do anything—even work together—to achieve this goal.
However, after Josarian's transformation into a Dar-blessed demi-god issuing orders to the Society about how to manage its affairs, insisting on the waterlords' obedience to his rule, and increasingly supported in his intolerable interference by an ever-bolder population... That was when he became someone who must be eliminated as quickly and cleanly as possible.
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