"Sometimes," Tansen admitted quietly, "I wonder if I've done the right things."
"What man does not, unless he's an unthinking fool?"
Tansen nodded. "We can no longer be who we have always been here."
"I know that now. I understand that there is something beyond the battle, beyond the bloodlust, beyond the pleasure of killing assassins and waterlords." Jagodan sighed. "The Lironi have sworn a bloodvow." He opened his fist and showed Tansen the recent cut on his palm. "We are done killing other
shallaheen
. Forever. The Lironi have sworn to shun any member of the clan who kills any Silerian except those who support the Society. My son-in-law will ensure that the clan honors this vow after I die."
Tansen closed his eyes. "I wish there was another way."
"But there isn't, and you know it. I have to die. My clan can only lead the others again and our vow can only have meaning for them if I pay for the lives I took in vengeance." After a pause, he asked, "You will do it?"
Tansen nodded. "The other clans agreed. I have no clan of my own anymore. No feud with any of you. I seemed the best choice for an... executioner."
"You are. They knew I would recognize that they're offering me an honorable death." Jagodan nodded and stood up. "I am ready. Shall we go do it now?"
Tansen rose. "You are a great man, and Sileria will be poorer for your death."
"Perhaps not," Jagodan said. "Perhaps my time is passing even as we speak, and the time for cooler heads is arriving as I die. If the days of vengeance and bloodfeuds must come to an end, then those of us who lived by them must come to an end, too."
"That's... too many people."
"Then may my death teach them to embrace a new way." Jagodan placed a hand on Tansen's shoulder. "I understand you have a son now?"
"Yes." He smiled. "I do."
"That's good." Jagodan nodded. "I wish I could have met him."
"So do I." He was being polite; he didn't think Zarien and Jagodan would have liked each other. There was so much about a man like this that Zarien could never understand, just as the boy could probably never understand Tansen's genuine admiration for him—or how Tansen could now kill him.
This was their way. This had always been their way in Sileria.
"You must teach your children differently than our fathers taught us," said Jagodan.
"Yes," he promised, the sorrow of his memories sweeping through him.
"So that they will be better than we are."
He heard Mirabar's voice in his heart:
She will have the power they do, but she'll better than they are. Better than you, or me, or any of us
.
"Because," Jagodan said, "Sileria needs them to be better than we are."
"Yes," Tansen vowed, "they will be better. They must be, or we will dishonor every sacrifice we have made and every death we have mourned."
"I won't ask you to swear a bloodvow," Jagodan said. "I know you'll give your life to make it so."
"I will," Tansen said—wishing, after all, that Zarien could be here to meet the man he was about to kill.
Chapter Twenty-One
Wife and weapon are not to be lent.
—Silerian Proverb
Elelar placed her hands over her belly, where the hot glow felt like it would soon immolate her. She clenched her teeth as fiery pain seized her body, and when that wasn't enough, she screamed.
What was happening? Was she miscarrying?
The mountain roared, making the cavern tremble. There was a flurry of hissing and steam as lava dribbled into the watery domain from a thousand different sources. The volcano was becoming more restless, the tributaries more active.
I'm not going to live long enough to miscarry
.
Where in the Fires was Cheylan? With no sense of day or night, Elelar found it impossible to measure time; but it seemed like a long while since he had last been here.
Please, Dar, don't tell me he died in the earthquake
.
Elelar closed her eyes, fighting panic. She doubted anyone but Cheylan knew where she was. If he was dead...
No. He's coming. I know he's coming again
.
Everything Elelar had feared was coming true. She'd been hit by falling rock during the recent earthquake, and she believed the cavern could well collapse if a more severe one occurred. The flow of lava was also increasing here, and she could hear the rocks groaning under its onslaught. How soon before it broke through and flooded the cavern?
Her heart pounding with fear, Elelar lay on the hot, damp floor, tired, sweating, and filthy. Something incendiary churned inside her womb. She doubled over with a renewed wave of pain and screamed again.
This pregnancy is killing me
.
She wouldn't survive much longer here, that much was clear. However, since she didn't particularly relish the idea of wandering through these tunnels until she died, she would give Cheylan a little more time.
He had agreed with her persistent demands to be moved to a more comfortable location. She suspected it was her deteriorating physical condition that convinced him; she'd seen something like shock at her appearance cross his face last time he'd been here. He had said, in his detached and unpleasant way, that he'd make other arrangements and then take her to her new prison the next time he came. She thought it was probably inconvenient for him to keep bringing her food here, since his alacrity suggested he'd always intended to remove her from here—perhaps just not so soon. However, he hadn't seemed to accept Elelar's assertions that this cavern was deadly as well as uncomfortable.
As the mountain rumbled again and the rock groaned eerily under the strain of the lava pushing against it, Elelar shivered and hugged her knees, praying for the hot pain in her belly to fade. Cheylan was an idiot. If he were here right now, he'd realize just how much he was risking by keeping Elelar in this cavern any longer. What good were all his grand plans if she died here within a day—perhaps within moments?
Damn you, Cheylan, where
are
you
?
Mirabar watched Jagodan, more impressive than most of the waterlords she had ever seen, address the crowd gathered in the tumbled ruins of what had once been Gamalan's main square. She and Faradar stood quietly together as he accepted the eastern clans' price for a renewed alliance, and as the other clan leaders acknowledged his decision, made peace with the Lironi, and recognized Jagodan's chosen successor—not only to lead the Lironi but also to lead the rest of them, as Jagodan had done.
She felt her mouth tremble when Jagodan announced he was willing to die, because she knew what that meant.
Why does it always have to be him?
Tansen stood beneath the ash-dulled sky, his coarse black hair flying in the dusty wind which whistled through Gamalan, the village where he had once found the mutilated corpses of everyone he loved.
I can't watch this
.
But she couldn't turn away, either. She couldn't leave Tansen alone with this.
Jagodan exhorted them to free Sileria from the Society and to follow the example of the Lironi, who had sworn a bloodvow to end the centuries of bloodfeuds and vengeance which had been their whole way of life.
Mirabar placed a hand over the cool glow in her womb.
Things will be different. I swear they will.
As the sole Guardian present, Mirabar came forward, prayed for Jagodan, and asked for his
yahr
. This she gave to his son-in-law, who could give it to another Guardian some day if he wanted to Call Jagodan from the Otherworld.
The westering sun streaked the tormented sky as red as blood, casting grim shadows across this mournful place as Jagodan spoke his last words and knelt in the dust and ash. He fixed his gaze on the tumultuous peak of Mount Darshon, offered whatever silent prayer he wished to share with the destroyer goddess, and then said to Tansen, without taking his eyes off of Dar's mountain, "I am ready."
"Stand back," Tansen muttered to Mirabar without looking at her.
She felt Faradar's firm grasp on her hand pulling her away. "Perhaps you shouldn't watch."
Mirabar let Faradar pull her far enough away so that blood wouldn't splatter on her. "If he must do it, then the least I can do is watch."
Tansen spoke, his voice so subdued she could hardly hear it. "May Dar honor you as I have always honored you."
He raised his sword, paused as a gust of wind blew his hair across his face, and then brought the blade down on Jagodan's neck. It was over instantly.
Faradar gasped and turned her head away. Mirabar never saw the blood, or the head separate from the body, or the corpse fall to the ground. She never took her eyes off Tansen's face. And he never revealed any emotion at all.
"You've got
who?
" Verlon exclaimed, pushing himself to his feet with the aid of his cane as he gaped at Cheylan.
"I've got the Yahrdan," Cheylan repeated to his grandfather.
Verlon's momentary excitement shifted to hostile skepticism. "You told me the Guardian boy Semeon was the Yahrdan, and you were lying."
"I wasn't lying, I was wrong. I've explained before," Cheylan said. "Mirabar thought her visions indicated Semeon, but when her visions persisted even after the boy was dead..." He shrugged. "Since then, she has learned much more. Meaning
I
have learned much more. Everything I need to know, in fact."
"Then where is the child?" Verlon demanded darkly.
"I've got the woman whose womb carries him."
"So kill her!"
"Actually, grandfather, I was hoping to convince you to shelter her here." Verlon's home was warded and very well defended, and far more comfortable than the cave where Elelar, who was deteriorating at an alarming rate, now huddled. Cheylan didn't believe Dar would destroy the ancient and sacred cave where Sileria's future now ripened, but he did believe that Elelar's terror might lead her to do something foolish.
Verlon's face contorted with suspicion. "Why would I shelter her here?"
"Because it's my child whom she carries," Cheylan said.
The old waterlord's jaw dropped. A moment later, he guessed, "You're lying."
Cheylan smiled. "No, I'm not. Ask her, if you don't believe me."
"What makes you so sure this child is the—"
"Prophecy. I know what Mirabar knows. And perhaps slightly more." Cheylan added, "My child. Just think of it, grandfather. Your bloodline ruling Sileria. Isn't that what we both wanted?"
Verlon studied him with cold, dark eyes. "You seem very sure about this."
"There can be no doubt."
"Who's the mother?"
"
Torena
Elelar shah Hasnari."
"She's married," Verlon pointed out. "You'll have no claim—"
"No one, including Elelar, seems to know if her husband is even still alive. Besides, he's a Valdan."
"You're saying she will acknowledge you as the father?"
"Oh, I don't think she'll survive the birth," Cheylan said gravely. "At least not for long."