The Destroyer Goddess (30 page)

A child of fire...

It was a dark place full of light, a bright place shadowed by darkness. A vast cavern, heavy yet airy, immense yet encroaching.

A child of water...

Fire and water were all around her. The churning lava of the volcano dripped into water which flowed through strange tunnels lit by unfamiliar glowing shapes. Angry hissing filled the air wherever fire and water met, and steam rose to obscure Mirabar's vision.

A child of sorrow...

Tonight the past and the future came together in the present. The tragedy of wasted lives, the waste of squandered talents, the enmity that ran stronger in their blood than love, the love which they had twisted into something so destructive that the future could only survive if they perished...

Fire and water, water and fire...

The bloodlust of a people which they must learn to stop quenching. The vengeance that could no longer be their whole way of life. The passion for betrayal which they must stop indulging...

Mirabar noticed little glowing shapes moving now, in this strange sunless place of lava and crystal, this domain of mingled fire and water. Some slithered leglessly, and others seemed to have a thousand legs. Mirabar shuddered, praying that, despite the power of this vision, she was still, in reality, safely at Belitar.  

She saw the Beckoner now, distant, evasive, and she asked him, "What is this place?"

Protect what you most long to destroy
.

"
Where
is this place?"

Are you ready?

"To protect her?"

She didn't need to ask if she was right; she knew Elelar was somehow the answer. She knew by her own revulsion, her repugnance, her screaming reluctance to relinquish her craving for vengeance, for Elelar's blood. She wanted Elelar to suffer the way Baran wanted Kiloran to suffer... And daily exposure to her husband's hate-driven madness was why she knew she must surrender her bloodlust and protect Elelar. Mirabar must not squander her gifts in hatred as Baran had. She must not sacrifice Sileria and its well-being to personal vengeance as her husband had. 

She had to be more than Baran was, better than he was. Dar had sent her into that madman's arms so that she would know and accept her duty: for the good of Sileria, the good of the powerful child she would bear Baran, and the good of her own soul.

"I am ready," she vowed.

And she knew she spoke the truth.

"
Sirana?
"

Mirabar frowned, startled by the intrusion of Najdan's voice.

"
Sirana?
"

She whirled to face him as her vision melted away. 

His
shir
shuddered wildly, and he took a sudden step backward, bouncing away from her as if he had walked into a solid wall. His expression hardened as he realized what he had just wandered into—the midst of one of her visions—and he studied her with narrowed, assessing eyes.

Breathing hard and shivering a little from the sudden transition, Mirabar assured him faintly, "It's over now."

He watched her warily for a moment, then nodded. "We have a visitor."

"Right now?" She was in no mood for a visitor.

"It's Cheylan," Najdan said without enthusiasm.

"
Cheylan
," she repeated with relief.

Najdan gave her a disapproving look. "The sentries have spotted him approaching the lake."

"We need him," she said. "I need his help." She smiled and assured Najdan, "He was meant to come here now."

He inclined his head and said, with a noticeable lack of conviction, "If you say so,
sirana
."

"Where's Baran?" she asked.

"Occupied. He says Kiloran has enlisted help in trying to gain full control of the Idalar River. He can feel it."

"Help?" she repeated. "Is it Dyshon?" 
      "Almost certainly. I can't think of anyone else Kiloran would trust enough to admit into his struggle for the Idalar."

"Do you think Baran can withstand this?" she asked anxiously, well aware of how fast he was losing strength.

"Attend to Cheylan," Najdan advised. "You and I can discuss this later."

She nodded, knowing he was right. "Row me across the lake, Najdan. I have many things to tell Cheylan."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she said. "We're..." She placed a hand over her belly, resisting the nausea which she felt threatening as she mentally committed to her appalling destiny. "We're going to become allies again with
Torena
Elelar."

Najdan looked startled, then a strangely resigned expression settled into his hard features. "I believe your husband will find that very... amusing,
sirana
." 

"Yes," Mirabar agreed sourly. "I believe you're right."

Chapter Eleven

I can take care of my enemies,

but Dar shield me from my friends.

                                          —Josarian

"What is that?" Cheylan asked, studying the rather revolting bundle which Mirabar carried in her arms as she approached him. It was long, slender, and wrapped in a moldy old blanket.

"It's something Baran gave me. Something which has been hidden in Belitar for a very long time."

"How thoughtful of him," Cheylan said dryly. He lifted his gaze to where Najdan stood glowering at him. "Hello."

Najdan didn't even blink or nod.

Mirabar seemed untroubled by the assassin's bad manners, and she said to Cheylan, "Let's walk a little." 
      "All right," Cheylan agreed. "May I carry that for you?"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She let him take the disgusting bundle from her, and he wondered at the expression in her glowing eyes as she stared at it in silence.

"It's solid," Cheylan remarked. 

"And heavier than it looks," she murmured.

"Yes. What is it?"

She raised her gaze to his. "It's time for me to find out."

"Oh?" 

She took a shaky breath. "I'm glad you're here. I'm, well, a little frightened."

Cheylan supposed that a mysterious gift from the madman she had married might reasonably cause that reaction, so he nodded. He turned and, letting her set the pace, started walking.

The ensorcelled chill of Belitar permeated the air all around the gloomy, enchanted lake. Even now, as the rest of Sileria sweltered under the killing skies of the dry season, Belitar was cool... and as damp as ever. If the assassins'
shir
weren't made of water, Cheylan suspected they'd be rusting.

"Have you been well?" he asked.

She smiled. "Not really."

He saw her place a hand over her belly, and he guessed immediately. "So it's happened, then. You're expecting his child."

"Yes."

The shock he had felt upon learning of her marriage, like the rage he had felt upon hearing from her own lips the reasons she had done it, had driven him to extraordinary measures. He tried to believe it had always been meant to be this way, because the alternative was unthinkable; but at this particular moment, having faith in Dar and in his destiny was a challenge. Cheylan felt a surge of dark envy and mild revulsion as he contemplated the still-flat belly hidden by Mirabar's modest clothing. 

Baran's child resting inside this powerful woman. Baran's seed growing where Cheylan's own should have grown. Baran with yet one more claim on the loyalty of the woman whom Cheylan himself had hoped to rule.

However, he had come here knowing she might have such news for him, and so he mastered his envy and disgust by calling upon the clear, cold hatred which, ever since he'd learned of Mirabar's  pact with Baran, had kept him sharp, focused, and committed to his own path.

His voice sounded quite normal as he asked, "When is the baby due?"

He was surprised to see something like happiness bring a soft glow to her fiery features. "In the spring."

"And you're still sure about this?" he prodded.

"Yes."

No doubt. No hesitation. And certainly no apology.

Cheylan felt another surge of fury, but he knew that it was wasted energy now. Mirabar had made her choice when she married Baran, who was even more powerful than he was crazy. And so Cheylan had made his choice, too. He was determined to have everything he wanted; but now he'd have it despite Mirabar, rather than because of her.

"Is he treating you properly?"

She looked amused. "Baran? No, of course not." 

He thought he saw an opportunity, so he suggested, "Then, now that you've got what you wanted from him, perhaps it's time to leave Belitar. I could escort—"

"I haven't got what
Tansen
wants from him," she pointed out.

"Victory over Kiloran." He frowned. "Does Tansen really expect you to remain here with this—"

"No, but it's what I'm going to do." Mirabar held his gaze for a moment. "This is my home now, Cheylan. Forever."

So there was clearly no chance, today or any time soon, of getting her away from Belitar.

"Forever? With
him
?" he tried, hoping she'd confide in him.

She didn't. Instead she smiled wryly and agreed, "With him."

"It seems... a very big sacrifice."

"I've gotten used to him. Besides..." She gave a strange puff of laughter. "Well, the truth is, Baran sort of grows on you."

"
Baran?
" He didn't have to pretend his astonishment.

"I loathe him and I'm afraid of him... but I've also become, as absurd as this sounds, rather fond of him." 
      "Fond? Of
Baran?
"

"I know, I know." She shrugged, gazing into the distance as they walked side by side. "In fact, although I'm sure Najdan would rather die than admit it, I think he's becoming a little attached to Baran, too."

"That's... hard to believe."

"Yes, it is," she agreed. "But Baran has a strange effect on people. Once upon a time, he must have been..."

"Yes?" he prodded.

She shook off her pensive expression and concluded, "A very likeable man. I mean, before he became a murderous and insane waterlord."

Cheylan was genuinely curious when he asked, "So you're happy with him?"

Mirabar smiled briefly. "Oh, no. Which is just as well. I don't think Baran would tolerate happiness in his midst." Her pensive look returned as she murmured, "No, I'm not happy with him."

A dark stab of wounded vanity pierced him, because he was sure she was thinking of Tansen now.

Time to change the subject, he decided.

"Rumor has it that Baran's not well," Cheylan essayed, watching her reaction closely.

"He was very sick for a while. But Sister Velikar is a talented healer and..." Mirabar smiled wryly. "Believe it or not, Baran seems to find the air here invigorating."

"So he's better?"

"Yes," she replied absently.

If she was lying, she had become skilled at it.

Knowing that Kiloran and Searlon would want something more definite than that, Cheylan said, "I need to speak with him. I have some concerns about keeping the waterlords out of Wyldon's territory. Maybe Baran can advise me."

"I'm afraid he's heavily occupied."

"I can stay until he's got time."

"I'm not certain when he'll have time."

"Surely, at some point within the next few days, he could spare me a few moments?" he persisted.

"A few days? No, I'm sorry, Cheylan. Baran really hates visitors, and he can be very difficult about it." Seeing his expression, she added, "Perhaps if you told me what you wanted to know..."

Ahhh...
 

Mirabar continued, "If you annoyed him, he'd refuse to help you. But I've learned how to deal with him, so it might be best if I spoke to him for you."

"Yes, I see," Cheylan said, satisfied now. "As you wish."

She didn't want him to see Baran. 

She
was
lying about Baran's health. And to
him.
Yes, it made him furious all over again.

It almost made him want to kill her.

But not yet.

Baran's sentries were everywhere, and even if they weren't, Cheylan knew Najdan would never let Mirabar out of his sight on this side of the water, where Baran's protection could (if an attacker were reckless enough) be breached. No, Cheylan would have no real privacy with Mirabar, even though Najdan and the others had given the two of them enough space for confidential conversation.

Indeed, Cheylan knew that, apart from Baran or Najdan, it was unlikely that any man would ever be alone with Mirabar again. A waterlord's wife lived under even stricter prohibitions than a respectable
shallah
woman. Any of her male relatives—a description which, according to the traditions of the Society, now included all of Baran's bloodthirsty assassins—would almost certainly kill an unattached male like himself who sought private moments, let alone private acts, with her.

That poor fool Tansen.

Cheylan again wondered what strength of will it had taken for Tansen to permit the marriage that day at Velikar's Sanctuary. And he really couldn't imagine what sheer idiocy had prompted Tansen to trust Baran, of all people, with such a valuable prize as Mirabar.