Authors: Laura Resnick
Tags: #Fiction, #Fantasy Fiction, #Epic, #General, #Fantasy
Kiloran glowered at his guests. "Since you weren't invited, perhaps you could all
leave
now?"
"We still have things to discuss, plans to make," Elelar objected.
"Later," Kiloran said.
"Up there,
torena
," Josarian suggested, pointing overhead. "Where we might be more comfortable."
"Go!" Kiloran snapped.
Josarian caught Mirabar's eye and grinned. "Well,
sirana
, this shade from the Otherworld never said we all had to learn to
like
each other."
Part Two
"I can take care of my enemies,
but Dar shield me from my friends."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Koroll had never before been in Shaljir during the summer. Now, as Commander of Sileria's exotic capital, he couldn't abandon the city and retreat to the countryside as every other person of means did during these mad days of relentless heat, dust, and sun. A tolerable (if crowded) place during the rest of the year, Shaljir became a virtual cauldron in mid-summer, a prison of seething heat and stench that simmered beneath Sileria's fiercely blue sky. The torment ended only when the city was finally soothed by the first northern winds which came at the end of the season, bringing relief and—everyone prayed—rain.
Violent crime rose sharply within the city walls during the brain-baking days of high summer. Tempers flared, passions erupted, and patience withered as helplessly as the lush blossoms of spring in this maddening heat. The Valdani followed the customs of previous conquerors and pronounced more lenient sentences for violent crimes committed by Silerians—against
other
Silerians—during the height of summer. Any crime committed against a Valdan, of course, was still punished by a sentence of death or a term of hard labor in the mines of Alizar.
Theft, always a worry in Shaljir, became an even worse problem during summer. The wealthy and privileged abandoned their homes and palaces here every summer, leaving only a handful of servants behind to guard them. So now, when Shaljir's many criminals weren't busy assaulting each other, they were breaking into the city homes of Valdani aristocrats,
toreni
, wealthy merchants, and high-ranking government officials to steal whatever they could. The Emperor encouraged Sileria's richest inhabitants to maintain property and wealth in Shaljir, the most heavily taxed city in Sileria, by promising to protect it. Now it was up to Koroll to ensure that the arrangement continued to work well. Consequently, at a time when he most needed his men stationed in the mountains to fight Josarian, he'd had to bring an extra five hundred Outlookers to Shaljir to keep the peace.
Fortunately, and contrary to all expectations this year, there was enough water to satisfy the needs of Shaljir's vast population. Summer would be a particularly grim season if water was withheld from the city. However, Kiloran seemed to have solved his problems with Baran, for water flowed plentifully into Shaljir from the Idalar River now. As usual, Kiloran doubled his tribute demands to keep the city supplied at the height of the season. Although the Valdani were making plans to use ancient tunnels located beneath the streets to bring water to Shaljir from a new source, they were still vulnerable to Kiloran's power for the time being. The Emperor's official instructions were to refuse to pay tribute to that bandit; the Silerians might give into this kind of extortionate barbarism, but the Empire would not. However, Advisor Borell was a realistic man who looked the other way when Koroll siphoned off enough gold from various sources to complete the city's contributions to the Honored Society for yet another season.
Advisor Borell was also a lucky whoreson who was spending the summer in a fabulous cliffside villa on Sileria's eastern shores, cooled by ocean breezes and untroubled by the growing rebellion in the west. The new Commander of Cavasar, an appointee from the Emperor's court, had already arrived from the mainland; not surprisingly, he turned out to be a nephew of Borell's. Koroll had by now realized that Borell was no more anxious than he to reveal the scale of their problems in Sileria. It didn't look good to be the first provincial government in some two hundred years that couldn't keep these people under control. It became clear within a few minutes of meeting Commander Cyrill, the new appointee, that he was loyal to Borell and would do what his uncle told him to do.
So we're still safe. For now.
Naturally, they hadn't been able to conceal the deaths of so many Outlookers. The families had to be notified, as did Emperor Jarell, and new recruits had to be requested. Moreover, the death of Commander Daroll, a son of one of Valda's most powerful families, had created an unwelcome stir back home. Daroll wasn't the sort of officer who was expected to die in service, especially not in a backwater like Sileria. He was just supposed to give a few orders, bide his time, and await an inevitable political appointment. The official story now, agreed upon at Santorell Palace, was that Daroll had bravely risked—and lost—his life while trying to negotiate with the mountain bandits and prevent further bloodshed.
It's half-true, after all. Why mention what a fool he was?
A military man rather than a diplomat, Koroll had let Borell do much of the talking when an Imperial Councilor came to Shaljir to demand a detailed explanation of the events reported in their dispatches. After three days of verbal dancing and lavish entertaining, Borell managed to convince the man that, while there was undeniably a problem in Sileria, they had the situation well in hand and would soon crush these bandits.
Torena
Elelar had served a useful purpose for once, showing commendable loyalty to Borell. She had assured the Councilor, who was thoroughly charmed by her anyhow, that the other peoples of this splintered society disapproved of the
shallah
outlaws, who had by now gained all the support they were ever going to gain. Yes, the
torena
had been very helpful, Koroll conceded privately; perhaps he had misjudged her.
The Councilor had returned to Valda with optimistic reports. The Imperial Council had sent more money to pay for eliminating these provincial bandits, and two thousand Outlookers were about to be relocated to Sileria from a Kintish province which had been in the Empire's possession for over three hundred years. No men from the Moorlands could be spared; the Emperor was pushing his armies south to expand the Empire's territory there, leaving only Outlookers to hold the northern tribes.
In truth, even getting men transferred from a Kintish province conquered long ago, no matter how peaceful, hadn't been easy. The Kintish High King was now so old it was a wonder he was still alive, and his only heir was a mad princess who apparently could not be convinced to marry and get sons. Although the Empire was already straining under the burden of its huge size, the difficulty of policing so many subjugated peoples, and the immense cost of the Emperor's continuing wars of conquest, the Imperial Council had just decided that now was the time move against the Kints.
The Kintish Kingdoms, a loose association of petty states with a history going back more than three thousand years, had sacrificed many outlying territories over the centuries to avoid an all-out war with Valdania. However, since enmity for the Valdani was the one thing that united the remaining Kintish nations, Emperor Jarell had chosen long ago to devote his reign and resources to more likely conquests: Nothing, after all, seemed capable of uniting the tribes of the Moorlands.
Suddenly, however, the Emperor and the Council had changed the policies of the past fifty years, perhaps because Jarell, too, was now very old and longed to complete the conquest of the Kintish Kingdoms before he died. Ah, to enter the Palace of Heaven as its new ruler after three thousand years of Kintish supremacy, and to sit on the Throne of Heaven, the most coveted seat in the three corners of the world... It was a worthy ambition, and Koroll could not blame Jarell for seizing the chance now that he saw it. With no one to occupy the Throne of Heaven except a dying old man or a mad girl, this time the Kintish union would crumble completely under the Empire's onslaught. This time, the remaining Kintish Kingdoms would fall.
This time, Kinto will be ours.
It was a thrilling moment in history, a magnificent time to be a Valdan, and Koroll would give anything to partake of the glory. He had no hope of receiving a promotion and a transfer to the mainland, however, while mountain bandits wreaked havoc on this provincial backwater. Consequently, destroying Josarian now became more important than ever before.
He was therefore less than pleased when Captain Myrell arrived in Shaljir, covered in dust and sweat, to inform him that Josarian was not only still on the loose, but growing stronger and more popular than ever. It was estimated that the number of Josarian's followers had increased tenfold just since the beginning of summer, and that dozens of men were now flocking to his cause every day. His raids against Outlooker targets were growing increasingly bold and costly. His disruption of regular trade routes was starting to damage the local Valdani economy. And now, Myrell reported, Josarian had discovered a new way of earning enough money to feed his vast band of rebels and to buy the continued silence of the mountains.
"Abduction?" Koroll said in astonishment. "He's taken to
abduction
now?"
"Yes, sir," Myrell confirmed. "He recently returned
Toren
Porsall's wife after receiving a ransom of two hundred thousand in gold. The
torena
says she was treated well, but she was so frightened she has been unable to give us any useful information about the identity of her captors or where they held her for twenty-seven days."
"What can you expect of a woman?" Koroll said dismissively.
"
Toren
Emmeran was not only safely returned after his family paid the ransom," Myrell continued, "but he became so fond of Josarian during the seventeen days he spent as his captive that he will give no evidence against him."
"What?"
"He
is
a Silerian, after all, and they are irrational—"
"What do you mean, he won't give evidence?" Koroll demanded.
"Emmeran now claims that he was merely meditating in Sanctuary for seventeen days, has never met Josarian, and had no idea that the outlaw was making ransom demands during his absence."
"A
toren
is protecting a
shallah
?" Koroll stared at Myrell.
"I'm afraid it gets worse, sir."
"Go on," Koroll said woodenly.
"I decided to have Emmeran arrested, thinking that would make him see reason. The eight men I sent for him were killed on their way to his estate."
"Then send
fifty
men," Koroll snapped. "We can't allow this!"
"I'm short of men, sir. They're busy combing the hills in search of two Valdani aristocrats who were abducted four days ago. The ransom demand is one million, in gold."
"Josarian's mad," Koroll said, his mood improving a little. "The Society will never tolerate this. Abduction is their business. Josarian is ensuring his own assassination by intruding on their territory this way."
"Actually, Commander..." Myrell looked pained.
"Yes?"
"The Society is cooperating with Josarian."
"They'd
never
cooperate with Jo..." Koroll frowned. "Wait. How do you know that?"
"That's the good news, sir. I finally have an informant."
"An informant? Three be thanked! What can he tell us?" Koroll asked eagerly. "Does he know where Josarian's men are based?"
"Some place in the mountains. It's called Dalishar," said Myrell. "I gather it's a holy site or something."
"At last!
Information.
"
"Unfortunately, it really doesn't sound as if we can attack him there, sir. It's very deep in the mountains, inaccessible to riders, approachable only by a couple of narrow mountain paths, and..."