In Legend Born (7 page)

Without waiting for a response, he scooped the red-haired woman into his arms. She was heavier than she looked; muscular and sturdy, like a good mountain girl. He realized with a sudden ache that he hadn't held a woman in his arms since Calidar's death. He swallowed the memory and followed Tashinar into one of the caves, marveling at the way she simply blew a flame into life upon the stone wall to light the chamber where the demon-girl's pallet lay.

The young woman started to struggle, making the task of depositing her on her pallet rather awkward. His wound stretched at the last moment, and he abruptly dropped her head.

"Ow! Be careful, you idiot!" she snapped, sounding quite different all of a sudden.

He glanced at her in surprise and found that her eyes were now open, alert, and glaring at him. They gleamed a feral yellow color that awoke old superstitions; but when she snapped at him again, he couldn't help grinning.

"You don't sound like a mystic when you're awake," he observed.

Still glaring, she sat up and rubbed her head.

"Can you talk now?" Tashinar asked her hesitantly.

"Who is this man?"

"He's our guest, Mirabar." The old woman sounded embarrassed by her companion's discourtesy.

"My name is Josarian. I've come to—"

"Josarian!" The girl gripped his shoulder with a hand which was surprisingly strong for its size. "I've
heard
..." The glowing eyes searched his face eagerly. "Could it be you?" she whispered.

"Could
what
be me?" At the moment, she
did
look a little insane.

She said nothing, only continued to study him as if seeking the answer to all her questions. Whatever the test was, he apparently failed it, for her face crumpled in pain. She tore at her hair and ground out between clenched teeth, "I don't know. I can't
tell
. You must send me a sign! How will I know him,
sirani?
"

Tashinar knelt upon the pallet and tried to calm the girl—Mirabar—who was becoming agitated again. Sensing that his presence only added to Mirabar's anguish, Josarian excused himself and went outside to find the load he had carried up the mountain. A few minutes later, moving wearily, Tashinar joined him around the woodless fire at the center of the Guardians' camp.

"She needs time alone," the old woman said pensively. "Time to think over what she has... been shown. She'll be better tomorrow. This mood... passes."

"I've never seen... You know. One like her."

"Ah. No. It's very rare, her look. And, of course, they're usually killed at birth."

"Why wasn't she?" he asked, knowing that had Calidar's baby been red-haired and orange-eyed, he still couldn't have helped loving it. "Did her parents protect her?"

Tashinar shrugged. "Perhaps. She doesn't know who they were."

"Was she given to you as a baby then?"

"No. Someone obviously took care of her as a baby, but she remembers no one. Somehow, as a child, she survived on her own for years. She lived as an outcast, scavenging for food. Then I found her and... trapped her. Tamed her. Taught her."

"Why?" he asked curiously. "She must have been very difficult to—"

Tashinar almost laughed. "Oh, she was! But I knew that the coloring that the
shallaheen
fear so much is a sign of great gifts."

"Gifts? People say it's the sign of a terrible curse."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. "Once, long ago, before the Conquest," she said, "such coloring was revered as the mark of great power. In those days, there were many more like Mirabar. But, fearing their power, the Conquerors sought to destroy them. So did the waterlords; but the waterlords were more cunning, and they destroyed them by teaching people to fear them. And so the very people they once served now stone them, drown them, burn them, or—at the very least—reject them."

Josarian considered the old woman's words before saying, "Are you sure that isn't just another story? Like the tales that are told about them being demons? Perhaps they're really just... ordinary."

"No, it's true. I, after all, have special sources," she reminded him.

He smiled. "Excuse me,
sirana
. I forgot myself."

"Now why don't you tell me why you have taken time out from harassing the Outlookers to pay us a visit?" she suggested.

He gestured to his gift. "I have brought food,
sirana
." He'd hauled a heavy wheel of cheese—stolen from an Outlooker supply post—up the mountain tonight.

"Food is always appreciated here." She nodded her acceptance of his offering. "Now how may I serve you?"

He took a breath and looked up at the stars. Now that the moment was upon him, hope made him afraid. "My wife... she died in childbirth one year ago tonight."

"Ah," she said softly, "I see. Have you brought something of hers?"

She meant to do it! His hand trembled as he reached inside his pouch and pulled out a delicately painted silk scarf. It had been his wedding gift to Calidar, and she had treasured it. He was convinced it still smelled of her. He was reluctant to let another touch it, even Tashinar, but he knew that a Guardian needed something which had belonged to the deceased in order to summon her from the Otherworld.

"Will this do,
sirana?
" he asked, his heart pounding as he proffered the scarf.

She took it from him and said, "We shall see, Josarian."

"Can you... Will she..." His throat felt tight.

"I can Call her," Tashinar said. "That is all I can promise."

"Then do,
sirana
. Please. Call her to me."

Tashinar nodded, then inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and clasped the scarf between her palms. Josarian bowed his head respectfully when she began to chant, but he sprang to his feet in panic when she tossed the scarf into the fire.

"No!" he cried.

"You must risk it," Tashinar said calmly, her gaze locked on the scarf. "You must... be..." Her voice trailed off, her strength absorbed by the ritual.

Josarian was about to rescue the scarf from the fire when he suddenly realized it wasn't burning. It danced in the flames with a life of its own, its fragile silk weave and delicate colors vivid and unharmed. Staring in wonder, he asked hoarsely, "Does this mean... she will come?"

After a long, quiet moment, Tashinar whispered, "She will come."

"Her name—"

"Shhh..." Flushed from her efforts, the old woman smiled slightly. "Her name is Calidar, and she is coming."

Disoriented and sick with frustration, Mirabar finally emerged from the cave, knowing that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to face everyone. Tonight was the first time she'd had one of these visions in front of the others; if they had doubted her sanity before, they were now probably convinced that she was quite mad. It might improve her position if she could present a coherent explanation of what she saw, but the visions were always so bewildering, the messages so strange and Otherworldly, that even she thought she sounded half-mad when she tried to relate them to Tashinar and the other Guardians.

A great warrior of terrible courage, bitter yearning, and stained honor.

Who was he? How would she know him? How should she welcome him? What must she do to prepare the way? And even if she found him, what could one man do to free Sileria from the Valdani?

The camp seemed deserted when she emerged from her cave. Momentarily unnerved, she then saw the reason for their absence. Josarian stood by the fire at the center of the encampment, his body taut, his attention riveted on the shade of a
shallah
woman rising from the flames. Even from where she stood, Mirabar could see the yearning that flooded his being, which had made him long to bridge the abyss between this world and the Other one. Even from here, she could see how he had loved this woman.

A bitter yearning? Instinct told Mirabar otherwise as she crept closer, staying in the shadows. The Otherworld was a mysterious place and the dead were very different from the living, but Mirabar thought she saw Josarian's love reciprocated in the shimmering, translucent figure that wavered and flickered as the fire did.

"
Calidar.
" Josarian's voice was harsh and choked with emotion. As the feminine shade extended her arms toward him, he fell to his knees, murmuring her name again.

The shade shimmered with the speech of the dead, a song which only Tashinar could hear, since it was she who had brought it forth. Like Josarian, Mirabar waited to hear Calidar's words. He, however, flinched when they came from Tashinar's mouth.

"Josarian," she said on a long sigh. "
Kadriah
."

Mirabar realized she had been right. The endearment meant "my destiny," which was how a
shallah
addressed a dearly loved partner in life.

"
Kadriah
," Josarian replied, recovering his surprise at hearing Tashinar's voice. "I have missed you more than I would miss my own heart."

"And I,
kadriah
," murmured Tashinar as the shade of Calidar shimmered again. "I await you as night awaits the dawn."

Josarian laughed suddenly. "It may be sooner than you think, wife."

Ah, so the woman had been his wife. Mirabar listened as he told her about killing the Outlookers, living in hiding, and inciting the local
shallaheen
to resist the oppression of the Valdani. She knew that Tashinar would lecture her sharply if she learned Mirabar had intruded upon this private ceremony. Unless otherwise specified, only the Guardian performing the Calling for a petitioner should be present. All the other Guardians in camp were now tactfully absent and undoubtedly had been since the moment Tashinar had begun the Calling.

Besides the Guardians, only the client requesting a Calling could see the shade, though no one knew why. Even many Guardians could only see the shades they themselves Called, though courtesy still made them absent themselves from another's ceremony. The Guardians' work was a mysterious art, and Mirabar knew that many Callings failed. Indeed, some Guardians never even performed a successful Calling on their own, only succeeding as part of the group when they performed their regular rituals, seeking guidance and strengthening the bond with the Otherworld. Mirabar's gifts, however, were such that she had seen shades her whole life, long before being initiated into the secrets of the Guardians. During her savage childhood, she had taken these ghostly visions as proof that she really was a demon.

If any other
shallah
were the petitioner tonight, then Mirabar, like the others in camp, would respect his privacy. But she couldn't return to her cave, not now. She had to know more about Josarian, had to know if he was the warrior she sought. Having heard of his exploits, she had thought he might be. Now that she'd met him, though, she had changed her mind. Courage, special ability, unbearable yearning—he unquestionably possessed all of these. Yet the longer Mirabar hid in the shadows and intruded upon this Calling, the more certain she became that Josarian was not the man whose spirit and soul haunted her visions. There was no angry torment in Josarian's yearning, no apparent shame in the naked heart he offered to the shade of his wife. His spirit was made of light; Mirabar sought one darkened by shadows.

How will I know him,
sirani?

"Calidar," Josarian said, his voice quickening with urgency as Tashinar grew fatigued and the shade began to disperse. "
Wait
. You must tell me—our child... Is it with you?"

What little Mirabar could still see of Calidar's face melted with sorrow.

"No," Tashinar said, her voice growing weak as her strength ebbed. "No, the child... could not make the journey."

Josarian's shoulders slumped. He murmured something so softly that Mirabar couldn't hear it. She guessed then how Calidar had died. Hard as her heart was, it ached for Josarian as he watched his wife fade into thin air, then lowered his head to weep for the child who had known neither this world nor the one beyond it. He was a big man, taller than most, with broad shoulders and strong arms, but he looked as helpless as a child right now. She felt an uncharacteristic desire to comfort him, but she went to Tashinar instead, who was now slumped over and breathing hard.

"Come," Mirabar said. "You must lie down." Tashinar wasn't as strong as she pretended to be, and the Calling had taken its toll. It was never a thing to be undertaken lightly, and the burden of Tashinar's gift now weighed heavily on her as she allowed Mirabar to help her into the cave. Once she was prostrate on her pallet, she insisted Mirabar go back outside to be with Josarian.

"He shouldn't be alone," the old woman rasped. "Not now. He's never Called her before, and... You watched, didn't you?"

"You knew?" Mirabar asked cautiously.

A faint smile cracked Tashinar's lips. "You want to know if he's the one. Considering the... the force of your visions, I would be surprised if you didn't try to find out more about him."

Alarmed by her mentor's pallor, Mirabar said, "Sleep now. We can talk tomorrow."