The White Dragon (53 page)

"You know little of Valda," Cyrill said arrogantly.

Elelar said, "Our dispatches tell us that there is rioting in Valda over high taxes, food shortages, and enforced conscription into the Emperor's armies."

"How long has the current dynasty been in power?" Searlon asked. "Might not some ambitious Valdan with military and political power convince his supporters, in view of Emperor Jarell's shameful loss of Sileria, that it's time for new blood to seize the throne?"

"As for you..." Elelar shook her head. "Well, your fate, like that of the Imperial Councilors, is easy enough to guess should the treaty become public knowledge."

"Free Sileria! Free Sileria! Free Sileria!"

"Eminence," Cyrill said, looking doubtfully at Kaynall. "Surely you're not listening to—"

"Be quiet," Kaynall snapped. "This is a political matter, not a military one."

"Well, Eminence?" Searlon said.

"If you have indeed arranged to expose the treaty..." Kaynall said slowly.

"Yes?"

"
If
that is so... You must arrange for a postponement."

Elelar felt her heart sink with disappointment. "We cannot."

"I don't believe you."

"It's true," she lied. There were, of course, no arrangements to expose the treaty; there hadn't been time. And Elelar knew that Tansen couldn't afford any delays. He was counting on her to secure Shaljir for him
now
. So she maintained her bluff.

"I cannot surrender Sileria without communicating with the Imperial Council," Kaynall argued. "That will take time."

"A ship to the mainland?" Elelar let some of her anger show. "Debates in the Council? Another ship back? Too much time, Eminence."

"Nonetheless—"

"And there should be no need," she said. "The treaty stipulates—"

"That you would produce a body!"

"And if we had produced a body, would you surrender now?" Searlon asked coldly. "Or would there still be this need for delay, for consultation with the Council, for—"

Cyrill said, "Well you
haven't
produced a body. So we'll never know, will we?"
 

"Did you ever intend to honor the treaty?" Elelar demanded.

"I have stated my terms," Kaynall said. "Postpone—"

"Enough of this," Searlon said.
 

He moved so fast that Elelar scarcely understood what was happening until it was over. There was a short, sharp cry of mingled surprise and pain from Cyrill as Searlon lunged forward and hit him in the face. Some drops of blood sprayed Kaynall when Cyrill's head snapped around. Kaynall jumped to his feet as Searlon seized Cyrill's head and made a violent twisting motion. Elelar heard a strange
snap!
and stared in confusion as Cyrill suddenly went limp and unresisting in Searlon's grasp.

Only when the body hit the floor with a dull thud did she realize what the assassin had done.

"Free Sileria! Free Sileria! Free Sileria!"

Kaynall was backing away, stumbling clumsily in his haste to escape Searlon. His mouth worked, but only a whispered, "Gu—gua—guar—" came out.

"Stop him," Searlon commanded.

Heart pounding with panic and horror, Elelar obeyed without conscious volition. She stretched out a slippered foot and shoved a chair behind Kaynall, obstructing his retreat. He backed into it, flailed briefly, and fell to the floor. Searlon was upon him before he'd even recovered his breath, let alone tried to get up.

As Searlon hauled the Advisor to his feet, Elelar choked out, "What are you
doing?
"

The assassin ignored her. "Time to make that announcement, Eminence."

"I... ah... ah..."

"Dar have mercy," Elelar said hoarsely, staring at Cyrill's corpse. "You've killed him!"
 

This was not part of the plan.
 

Searlon shook Kaynall. "Do we need to tell you what to say?"

Gasping for air, Kaynall shook his head.

Searlon hadn't used his
shir
, Elelar thought in a daze. No, of course not, she realized; the Valdani wouldn't let an armed assassin roam the halls of Santorell Palace. He was probably searched every time he entered Kaynall's presence. So he'd had to kill Cyrill with his bare hands.

This was not the plan!

Not the plan they'd made together, anyhow. Searlon was in charge now, moving events along according to his own plan, one that he hadn't confided to her.
 

"Then onto the balcony, Eminence." The assassin glanced at Elelar. "Would you mind opening the doors,
torena?
"

"Free Sileria! Free Sileria! Free Sileria!"

She gaped at Searlon in shocked silence for a moment, then numbly moved to do as he asked, opening the glass doors that led onto the balcony overlooking the immense crowd in Santorell Square. The thousands of people gathered below them abandoned their chant as the doors opened, and they began cheering wildly in expectation of the announcement.

Searlon shoved the trembling Imperial Advisor onto the balcony and warned him, "I'm right here, Eminence."
 

Kaynall nodded his understanding. He was sweating. Drops of Cyrill's blood stained his clothing. Elelar and Searlon stood on either side of him. Kaynall flashed Elelar a desperate, pleading glance.

"He'll do it, Eminence," she said with a coolness she was far from feeling. "The crowd will only cheer him on. And as for your guards..."

 
Fires of Dar, we've murdered a Valdan right in the heart of Santorell Palace! We'll never leave here alive.

Elelar shrugged. "Well, they can only arrest us once, after all, no matter how many people we kill."

"I suggest," Searlon said, raising his voice to be heard above the cheering crowd, "that you listen to
Torena
Elelar."

Lips trembling, Kaynall raised his arms to ask for the crowd's silence. It took more than a few moments, during which time Elelar kept listening for the sound of palace guards coming to arrest her. In the square below, the immense and gaudy Sign of the Three, erected here two hundred years ago, gleamed under the dazzling Silerian sunshine, making her eyes water a little as she stared at it with an unfocused gaze. As the noise of the crowd slowly faded, the pounding of Elelar's heart filled her ears. Finally, when he knew he could be heard, the Imperial Advisor addressed the long-conquered citizens of Shaljir.

"People of Sileria," he began. "After long and difficult negotiations with the rebel alliance..." He was obliged to pause as another cheer floated up from Santorell Square. "The Empire of Valdania has agreed to surrender Sileria to native rule."

The crowd went wild. The roar of victory made Elelar's head spin. For a moment, she forgot her horror, Searlon's reckless ploy, the Valdani corpse lying only a few paces behind her... For a moment, she forgot everything as she realized stunned amazement that it had happened.
 

The Valdani had surrendered.

The long years of sacrifice, the hard work, the bitter intrigues, the subterfuge that had ruled her life...

Done. Over. Finished.

Success
.

The Valdani were leaving Sileria.

Pillars of fire rose from the crowd, startling her. She looked down and saw four Guardians—now openly revealing their identity, free of Valdani laws for the first time in two hundred years—with golden flames leaping skyward from their bare palms, faces jubilant as they celebrated.
 

Women threw their hand-painted scarves high into the air, creating a dance of floating color in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Men raised their children aloft, holding them high, making sure they could see Kaynall, the last Imperial Advisor in Sileria, at the moment the Valdani surrendered. The moment Sileria become free for the first time in a thousand years.

Free. We're free.

The thousands of deaths, the hundreds of funeral pyres, the lives cut short, the bloody battles, the razed villages, the burned crops... It had all been worth it. They had not been wrong. They had not fought, died, or sacrificed in vain.

She heard a new chant commencing in the square, a new creed for Sileria to live by.

"Native rule! Native rule! Native rule!"

From the sacred rainbow chalk cliffs of Liron to the exotic port city of Cavasar, from the snow-capped peak of Darshon to the crumbling Guardian temples of Adalian, from the golden beaches of the coasts to the merciless beauty of the mountains, Sileria belonged only to the Silerians now.

She felt tears streaming down her face and didn't bother to wipe them away. Her heart pounded with what she recognized as the only pure, uncomplicated moment of happiness she'd ever known.

She had been born to a humiliated race, a people whose faces had been forced into the dust centuries ago. And for the first time in a thousand years, they had lifted their heads and proven to a skeptical world that they could, once again, be the strongest, proudest, bravest people in the three corners of the world.

Overcome by emotion, she turned to Searlon, the only other Silerian within reach, and met his gaze. He looked solemn, with no trace of the sardonic light that was usually present in his dark eyes.

"We're free," she choked out. "We're free."

He nodded and smiled openly, for once without cynicism or irony. "We're free." She could barely hear his soft voice over the din of the joyous crowd below.

Their gazes held for a long moment of mutual understanding before Searlon's gaze flickered back to Kaynall. "But it never hurts to be sure." He leaned closer to the Advisor and said, "Tell them when you're leaving."

Kaynall flashed another panicked look at Elelar. "But we've made no plans, no—"

"Make your plans now," the assassin advised. "Quickly, Eminence."

Kaynall held up his hands again. It took even longer, this time, for the crowd to quiet down. "At sunrise tomorrow, we will commence preparations for evacuation of Sileria and the unconditional surrender of Shaljir!"

When the cheering finally died down enough for him to speak again, Kaynall continued, "I ask you now, as people who have shared this city with us for two hundred years..." Kaynall was obliged to raise his voice as his audience started shouting him down. "Let these final days which we spend together..." He paused in consternation at the derisive sounds coming from below. "... be peaceful ones!"

Distinctly uninterested in the wishes of the departing Valdani, the crowd became increasingly noisy. "And for those Valdani... who wish to leave Shaljir with..." Kaynall tried harder to be heard. "... with the departing imperial Outlookers... report...
report to Santorell Palace
—"

Searlon interrupted him. "I think you've made your point, Eminence."

Kaynall said coldly, "Then may I go inside?"

"Yes," Searlon said. "There is still the treaty to sign."

This, at least, was part of the plans the assassin had made with Elelar. While it was unlikely that Kaynall would deny such a public proclamation of surrender, it never hurt, as Searlon had noted, to be sure. Elelar had prepared a document for Kaynall's signature which would further bind the Imperial Advisor and his government to the promises he had just made on this balcony. She reached beneath the broad sash tied around the waist of her long silk tunic and produced the document now, a single sheet of parchment.

She unfolded it, handed it to the Advisor, and said, "It requires only your signature and seal."

He looked at the document, then let his gaze travel over the celebrating crowd in Santorell Square. "Well," he said at last. "You thought of everything, didn't you?"

"I certainly hope so," she replied.

"Josarian! Josarian! Josarian!"

As the crowd took up the new chant, Elelar met Searlon's eyes again. Their moment of communion was already long past. He arched one brow as the betrayed Firebringer's name floated through the air. His killer's eyes glinted with mockery. Her own gaze, she knew, was hard and cold.

"Josarian! Josarian! Josarian!"

"This way, Eminence," Searlon said, re-entering the council
 
hall.

Kaynall followed him inside.

A moment later, Elelar heard Searlon's voice behind her, prodding her to join him in witnessing Kaynall's signature. "
Torena
?"

"I've worked my whole life for this day," she said over her shoulder. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"As you wish,
torena
."
 

His insincere courtesy might have grated on her nerves if her head wasn't already reeling with a new, desperate plan.