The Destroyer Goddess (11 page)

Mirabar briefly wondered where Najdan had been throughout all this. He would have told her if he knew about Baran's brief apprenticeship under Kiloran, or Kiloran's capture of Baran's wife. She supposed that, whatever Najdan had been doing during those months, he had been nowhere near Kandahar. She knew that, throughout his twenty years in Kiloran's service, he was capable enough and trusted enough to work far from Kiloran's supervision for long periods of time. And given how things had turned out at Kandahar, she supposed that after Alcinar died, anyone left alive who knew about these events was too afraid of Kiloran's wrath to gossip about them.

Baran added, "Even assassins who betrayed Kiloran for generous bribes, now and then, assured me that his new mistress was the only woman at Kandahar. Yes, there had briefly been another woman before her, one assassin told me, but no one knew what had happened to her." 
      "Alcinar."

"I later realized that she had probably died well before Kiloran told me about it. And I think he only told me because he hoped it would make me reckless, impetuous, even crazier with rage and bloodlust."

"So that you'd do something careless or stupid," Mirabar said,  "and be easier to kill."

"I surprised him, though, just as I've been surprising him ever since."

Baran might be educated and worldly, but he was still a Silerian. Mirabar surmised, "Vengeance gave you something to live for."

"Exactly so." He lifted his head, clearly trying to shake off the horrifying memories. "So I disappeared. He undoubtedly began to hope I had killed myself."

"And you eventually came to Belitar."

"Yes. Where my destiny unfolded. As yours will, too."

"There's something here," Mirabar murmured. She would have mistaken it for Baran's strength, his power, had she not already discovered how quickly that was fading. 

"Ahhh..." He nodded. "I wondered if you'd feel it."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Are you afraid?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted.

"Well, I was," he confessed, surprising her again. "But I had nothing left to lose, and I was desperate. Desperate enough to come to this gloomy, haunted ruin."

"Why?" she asked. "Why did you come in the first place?"

"This was the seat of Harlon's power, who was once almost as great as Kiloran, and who fought the Valdani to a standstill for years." Baran hesitated, then added, "And long before that, this was Marjan's home."

"Marjan," she breathed. "The first waterlord, who betrayed and murdered Daurion, the last Yahrdan."

"So they do teach Guardians history?" 

"Then Marjan really did live here, that's not just a tale?" she asked.

"He really lived here. A thousand years ago."

"And you wanted whatever it was that Marjan and Harlon had found here. Whatever had bolstered their strength."

"Yes. I wanted that. I came here looking for it, believing in it. I braved the ghosts and the fog and the damp. And I remained here even after, like you, I realized there was something here. Something very strong. Maybe stronger than me." Baran met her gaze. "I'd have done things which frightened me far more than that, in order to avenge Alcinar."

And he had
become
far worse things, she realized, than he had ever imagined.

She thought of Elelar, thought of the vengeance she wanted against the
torena
for betraying Josarian. She looked at Baran... and saw where the lust for revenge could lead a person. Especially someone as gifted and powerful as Baran. Someone like herself.

Baran studied her expression. "I've upset you," he said apologetically.

Mirabar wanted to get away from him. "It's late." She rose to her feet, as eager to escape as if his bloodlust, his insanity, were contagious. 

His gaze sharpened, assessing her mood. "You're not going to invite me to share your bed tonight, are you?" He glanced down and added, "Even though you've destroyed mine."

"There must be other beds in this vast place. Besides," she pointed out, "you said you were tired."

"I was, but now I don't think I'll sleep anytime soon. Not after this conversation. So perhaps you and I could... comfort each other for a while."

Their gazes locked. 

She was afraid of him again. More so, perhaps, because now his eyes urged her to remember he could be kind, could even give her pleasure. And she didn't want to be that close to him again, lest his sickened soul somehow infect her own struggling one.

Mirabar shook her head slowly. "Not tonight. I'm..."

"You've made sure I don't want to be alone tonight," he murmured, his eyes taking on a dark glow. "And you are my wife."

She didn't want to be alone tonight, either; but her husband wasn't the man whose company she wanted now. Torn between fear and duty, tormented by what she wanted and couldn't have, she felt herself starting to tremble.

"Come,
sirana
," Baran coaxed, his voice growing seductive. "Why not share a little human warmth on a night when we both find ourselves in need of it?"

"I don't—"

"Don't you?" he challenged.

Mirabar stared at him in tumultuous silence, no longer entirely sure she wanted to say no, yet also afraid of what he might do if she tried to leave now.

There was a knock at the door, dissolving the moment. 

Baran sighed and called, "Come in."

Velikar entered the room, holding a cup of some smelly brew. She froze when she saw the bed, then whirled on Mirabar. "What have you done to the
siran?
" she demanded.

"Our first marital spat," Mirabar said.

Velikar began, "You mustn't—"

"It's all right, Sister," Baran interrupted. "I knew I was marrying a spirited..." He glanced at some floating cinders and amended, "Er,
fiery
woman."

Velikar said, "It's a disgrace,
siran!
"

Baran took the tisane from her. "Velikar, would you be so kind as to find me a fresh bed for the night while I..." He peered into the cup and grimaced. "While I attempt to choke this down without dying on the spot."

"I don't want to leave you alone with this wild arsonist!" Velikar protested.

Mirabar rolled her eyes. "Don't worry. I'm leaving."

Velikar shook her head, "How the two of
you
ever thought you could make marriage work..."

"Now Velikar," Baran said. "Any half-wit can get a child, and I'm sure the
sirana
and I will work that out before long. As to the marriage itself... Well, I trust I've given my wife rather welcome news tonight."

"That all depends, Baran," Mirabar said from the doorway. "If you die before we can defeat Kiloran..." She shook her head, depressed and worried. "Tansen was counting on you. We're not sure anyone but a strong waterlord can stop him."

"Well then," he said. "We'd better get serious about that child, hadn't we?"

She met his gaze. A wary acceptance unfurled within her; a need, like his, for comfort in the dark. The kind of comfort he had already shown her he knew how to give.

 "Oh, very well," she said with ill grace, though she was now more nervous than reluctant or afraid. "I suppose you had better stay with me tonight."

Yes, he had changed her mind. Water magic was not his only gift.

"My dear!" Baran grinned. "Far be it from me to reject my eager bride." He raised his cup and added, "I'll be there shortly."

Although it was broad daylight, Sister Rahilar shrieked in startled fear when Cheylan came upon her suddenly in Velikar's Sanctuary.

"I'm sorry, excuse me," she babbled. "I didn't mean to, um, you know. But you—you surprised me."

"So I gathered," he said, letting the glowing eyes which so distressed her now dismiss her with a brief glance.

"Are you just returning now from..."

He looked around. There was no sign of anyone else. "From the east. Yes. Where is—"

"I, uh, I just came here to get some of Velikar's supplies," she said. "She wouldn't mind. I've run out at Dalishar. There are so many people there these days that I can't kee—"

"Where is Velikar?" he asked, knowing Rahilar could just keep talking until someone stopped her.

"Belitar."

"Belitar?" Cheylan was surprised, but he didn't pursue it. "Has Mirabar returned?"

Rahilar frowned. "You mean from Belitar?"

"No," he said irritably, "I don't mean fr..." He stopped and stared at her. "What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged. "Well, that's where she's gone."

He didn't think he had heard right. "Mirabar has gone to Belitar?" 

Rahilar jumped at the sharpness of his tone. "Yes."

"With Velikar?" he demanded.

"And Baran."

"And Baran?" he repeated, astonished.

"And Najdan, Haydar, Pyron, and that assassin, Vinn..." She shrugged again. "And an escort of five or six other men. I don't remember who they all were, what with so many people coming and going at Dalishar these da—"

"Why did Mirabar go to Belitar?" It seemed too risky, no matter what Baran had promised. "Does Tansen know?"

"Yes," the Sister replied, gathering some of Velikar's herbs and ointments as she spoke. "He was here—well, not
here
, but up at the caves when they... you know."

"No, I don't know." Cheylan tried to keep the impatience out of his voice.

"Oh. That's right," she said absently, now starting to pack some of the supplies she was gathering. "You've been away." She suddenly stopped and her eyes flew wide open. "You don't know!"

"Know what?"

"You'll never believe it!" A love of juicy gossip flooded Sister Rahilar's voice. "You'll probably make half a dozen people tell you the same thing before you'll really believe it.
I
wouldn't believe—"

"Believe what?" he asked wearily. He had forgotten how tedious he found Rahilar. 

He forgot everything else a moment later, when she told him what Mirabar had done.

Chapter Five

What tree is not tormented by the wind?

                                                —Kintish Proverb

"He's done
what
?" Kiloran demanded of Dyshon the assassin, whose green eyes looked weary from having made the long journey from Kandahar to Cavasar at top speed so he could deliver this news in person.

"He has married Mirabar," Dyshon repeated. 

"How do you know this?"

Hot air drifted through the windows of the fortress from which Commander Koroll, and later Commander Cyrill, once governed this city. Now Cavasar belonged to Kiloran; and like a good master, he had abandoned the serenity and delightful coolness of Kandahar in the dry season to attend to various pressing concerns in the city which was now one of his most important possessions. 

However, this startling news obliterated all thoughts of his business in Cavasar. He listened while Dyshon recited a fairly typical trail of common gossip. 

"In other words," Kiloran concluded, his thoughts veering from one speculation to another, "neither Baran nor Mirabar made any attempt to keep this a secret."

"No,
siran
." Dyshon went on to report that word was spreading about the marriage, as was the news that Baran had joined Tansen's bloodfeud against Kiloran. "What do you think it all means,
siran?
"

It was a fair question. Even Searlon would have asked it. And Kiloran couldn't answer it.

"With that madman," he replied, "who can say for sure?" After all these years, Baran was still surprising him. And it was still as unpleasant as ever.

Kiloran wondered aloud, "Has Baran set an elaborate trap for Mirabar? It's possible. Indeed, I expected something of the kind—though
this
never occurred to me. And Baran certainly wouldn't explain his plans to me. He would even enjoy my uncertainty. Is that his game? Or..." He sighed, feeling old mistakes return once again to haunt him.
Alcinar.
A wild lust, a seething obsession unlike anything he'd ever known, even as a young man. In the years since her death, he had come to regard his uncharacteristic, ungovernable passion for her as a panicked protest against the loss of his youth and the approach of old age.