In Legend Born (91 page)

He stopped speaking and whirled around to face the two angry Sisters who came bustling out of the Sanctuary, eyes blazing, tongues wagging. Now that the surprise attack and mind-withering explosion of violence was over, they were furious.

"This is a Sanctuary of the Sisterhood!" one shouted in
shallah
dialect.

The other cried in common Silerian, "How dare you profane this Sanctuary with violence and bloodshed!"

"Three Into One, what are they babbling about?"

"I didn't mean to kill the woman," the first Outlooker said. "It was an accident. She got in the way. Tell them that."

"How do you propose I tell them that?" snapped the first. "I don't suppose you speak any Silerian?"

"Er, no..."

One Outlooker turned away to confront the angry Sisters bearing down on him. The other returned to struggling with Lann's unconscious body while simultaneously trying to avoid contact with the nettles. Josarian saw his chance. He sprang out of his hiding place and swung his
yahr
into the face of the startled Outlooker confronting the Sisters. The man's nose broke, and he fell to his knees, howling as he clutched his bloody face. The Sisters started screaming again. Josarian ignored them and turned to the second Outlooker. The man dropped Lann's arms and struggled to unsheathe his sword. Josarian jumped him and slit his throat, then turned back to the other Outlooker and killed him before he had time to collect himself.

Suddenly there was no sound in the clearing except the hysterical weeping of the Sisters, which drowned out the sound of his own heavy breathing. Josarian tensed for a moment, wondering if there were still more Outlookers hidden in the woods. Weapons ready, he looked around, waiting for the sickening whine of an arrow.

The only attack, though, came from the elder of the two Sisters. But after what had just happened, even she didn't have the heart to keep shouting at him for having killed two men right in front of her. Her rage subsided into heartbroken weeping, then faded to hollow-eyed shock when Josarian asked the Sisters to help him with Lann.

A brief examination revealed that Lann was wounded badly enough to keep him from fighting for a while, but he would probably live. Josarian almost wept with relief and gratitude. Unfortunately, although there was no better place for Lann than Sanctuary right now, Josarian couldn't leave him here. If Searlon was waiting somewhere to guide the Outlookers safely out of rebel territory, then he might come here looking for them when they didn't show up. And Josarian doubted he would come alone. Searlon wouldn't be as careless as these Outlookers had been.

Kiloran has betrayed me.

The old waterlord had just dissolved the Society's alliance with the rebels, though no one but Josarian knew it yet. Indeed, he suspected that Kiloran didn't
want
anyone else to know it. Too many people would never forgive him for betraying the Firebringer, so Kiloran had planned Josarian's death very carefully. He had suggested a quiet, private meeting, hinting that he had reconsidered his unpopular position. He had let Josarian choose a site deep within rebel territory, at a Sanctuary. No Silerians, not even the Society, ever committed violence within the boundaries of a Sanctuary.

Having no reason to suspect trouble, Josarian had come here as vulnerable as a lamb, accompanied by only two men, both of whom were also supposed to die in the ambush. Kiloran would tell his own story about today's events after the Firebringer was dead, and only a handful of Josarian's closest companions—those who knew he intended to meet Kiloran today—would ever question it. The Sisters would verify that Outlookers had attacked the Sanctuary, and rebels would blame the Valdani for Josarian's death, leaving Kiloran's position of respect and power secure. The Valdani had probably promised the moons to Kiloran if he helped them eliminate Josarian.

Fury consumed Josarian as he set a torch to Falian's corpse. Rage ate him as he laboriously slung Lann's unconscious body over the back of the Sisters' strongest donkey and led it away from the Sanctuary.

Betrayal was the worst crime a Silerian could commit, and the rebels punished
sriliaheen
according to the traditions established by the Society itself. Josarian knew what Kiloran's punishment should be, but he also knew how impregnable Kandahar was. Only Mirabar had ever breached Kiloran's power there, and Josarian doubted she'd be willing to try it again for the purpose of killing the old man. 

If he couldn't kill Kiloran, then he would follow another course. Tansen had tried to protect Josarian and the others from such a fate when he'd left Dalishar to confront Kiloran and return Armian's
shir
to him. If Josarian couldn't punish Kiloran's betrayal with death—and it seemed he couldn't—then he would punish him by slaying someone close to him, someone he treasured so much that his own life would be destroyed by the loss.

This was the way of his kind, the only way he knew. Josarian had been born to a violent, unforgiving, and ruthless people. His heart had twisted with pity when Harjan the tailor had knelt in the streets of Zilar and begged for his life, but he had known that no one in Sileria would respect him for mercy.

A Sister, a
toren
, a Guardian, even a Yahrdan could be merciful. But an outlaw, a warrior, a rebel leader, the Firebringer... No. He must be ruthless if men were to continue following him, risking their lives at his side, and pledging their blood to his cause.

Above all, he must be ruthless because if he wasn't, more of his
friends
would betray him.

Elelar awaited Srijan in a private room at the inn in Golnar, still fuming over Josarian's recent behavior. Two days ago, he and six men had arrived at the half-ruined villa in which she now lived. Without even a pretense at courtesy, he had asked if she had a means of contacting Srijan. She explained that Kiloran had given her new instructions, essentially identical to the method by which she had contacted Srijan in the days when they used to meet near Zilar.

Barely allowing Faradar enough time to pack for the journey, Josarian had insisted they leave at once for Golnar, even though it was too late in the day for such a plan to be practical. He had refused to answer Elelar's questions about the reason for this sudden meeting. That first night on the road, Zimran, who shared Elelar's tent, had sulkily admitted that Josarian wouldn't discuss it with him, either. 

Since reaching Golnar yesterday, Josarian and his men had stayed out of sight, almost as if he had deserted her after bringing her here. So, bored and bad-tempered, Elelar was awaiting Srijan with no idea why Josarian wanted to meet. She hoped he meant to end the stalemate with Kiloran. She suspected, however, that he would instead further strain his relationship with Kiloran by flinging new demands and accusations at Srijan, harsh words for the assassin to take back to Kandahar.

Elelar had been worrying about this so much lately that it gave her a perpetual headache—the very excuse she had used last night when Zimran's warm hands had sought her in bed.

Charming, attentive, and a skilled lover, the
shallah
was not bad company. Still, Elelar's days of freedom had been too short, and she resented Josarian and Kiloran for creating a situation wherein she'd felt compelled to invite Zimran into her bed.

She needed someone close to Josarian who was also close to her; someone whom Josarian trusted, someone who had his ear, because—since Darshon—he no longer even made a pretense of listening to her. She had wanted Tansen to be her ally, but he had made it clear at Britar that she could not count on him. Then on the eve of the New Year, as Zimran escorted her away from Dalishar, he had made it equally clear that she could count on
him
, if she were willing to pay the price.

The same price I have always paid.

This time, it seemed a higher price than ever before, even though she didn't dislike Zimran, whereas she had loathed Ronall and Borell. It was harder this time because she had been foolish enough to believe everything had changed.

Such a fool.

She realized by now that she may have been foolish in her choice of lovers, too. It seemed that Zimran no longer had Josarian's ear, either. Elelar closed her eyes, wishing she were alone now, wishing she could weep in private.

"
Kadriah
..."

She opened her eyes at the sound of Zimran's voice. His fingers brushed her cheek, possessive, familiar.

"Are you unwell?" he asked.

"Just tired."

He scowled. "Josarian should not have made you travel so far so quickly, and without any warning."

"He still won't tell you what going on?"

Zimran shrugged. "I haven't even seen him today."

"It's as if they've all disappeared."

"I don't understand why he—"

They heard horses outside the window. Elelar looked outside and saw four riders: Srijan, a servant, and two assassins. The four men dismounted. The assassins led the horses around the inn, taking them to the stables out back.

Elelar heard Srijan's voice in the entrance hall. The door to this chamber swung open a moment later. To her astonishment, Srijan sprang into the room with his
shir
in hand, ready to fight. Zimran stepped in front of Elelar as she rose to her feet, his
yahr
already in hand.

"What's
he
doing here?" Srijan snarled, looking ready to attack as he glared at Zimran.

Elelar blinked in surprise. "I always bring an escort. You know that."

"Why
him?
" 

"What?" she said, perplexed by Srijan's hostility.

"The keeper said a
shallah
was in here with you. Why him? Why Josarian's cousin?"

"Srijan, what are—"

"I go where the
torena
goes." Driving the point home, Zimran added, "Day and night."

Srijan looked from Zimran to Elelar, then back again. After a long, uncertain moment, he laughed. "So she finally let someone besides a Valdan between her legs, eh?"

Zimran moved as if to attack, furious at the insult. Elelar stopped him.

"Don't," she said. "His words mean nothing to me."

Rigid with outrage, Zimran obeyed her. He always obeyed her. It was his greatest virtue.

Srijan was clearly enjoying the moment. Elelar was still afraid the two men would tangle, so she suggested everyone sit down; everyone except Srijan's wide-eyed servant did so.

"So,
torena
," Srijan said. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence here? Not bad news, I trust."

Elelar stared at him, her perplexity shifting into vague alarm. Something was wrong. Her instincts warned her that something was
very
wrong, but she had no idea what. "Bad news?" she repeated.

Srijan didn't take the bait. He shrugged. "Good news, then?"

Elelar found his casual attitude... unconvincing. "Actually," she said, watching him carefully, "it was Josarian who wanted to see you. I just—"

"
Josarian?
"

"Yes." The assassin's disbelieving stare made Elelar ask, "Why does that surprise you? He—"

Srijan shot out of his chair, his face distorted by mingled confusion and fear. "But he's dead!"

Zimran rose, too. "What?"

"He's supposed to be dead!" The assassin pulled out his
shir
again. "Where is he? When did you see him?"

"What are you talking—"

The door flew open, and Josarian burst through it, armed and attacking. Srijan whirled to confront him, but Josarian was a much better fighter than the ordinary peasants Srijan had spent his youth terrorizing. The assassin screamed as Josarian disarmed him and drove him to his knees with a sword thrust through his belly.

Elelar was screaming, trying to shove past Zimran, who was blocking her way and shouting,
"What are you doing? Stop! What are you doing?"

Srijan's obsequious servant moved, and Josarian turned and struck him unconscious with his
yahr
.

"Are you mad?"
Elelar screamed.

"You will die for this," Srijan snarled between gritted teeth. "My father will hunt you forever for this."

Elelar shoved past Zimran and ran to kneel at Srijan's side, coming between him and Josarian. She glared up at the
shallah
. "This will
not
convince Kiloran to do your bidding."

"The time for that is past," Josarian said. "Kiloran has already betrayed me and become my enemy."

"What?"

It was a horrible story, one she could scarcely follow as her mind reeled away from the catastrophe inherent in every word. An ambush by Outlookers deep within the heart of rebel territory, at the site of a private meeting which Kiloran had requested with Josarian.

"They knew Searlon," Josarian said. "They were going to show him Falian's corpse to see if it might be mine."

Elelar wanted to protest, to find another explanation for the disastrous events he'd described. But Srijan was a fool whose own words had already condemned him:
He's supposed to be dead.