The Destroyer Goddess (78 page)

The boy had tremendous natural talent, and he had come here at an age when he was ripe to develop it. With the arrival of this lone young man, Kiloran felt the burden of age melt away from his spirit as renewed ambition and vigor flooded him. Even the sorrow of Searlon's death—a terrible loss which Zarien had reported to him—couldn't discourage Kiloran now that his heir was here with him. And
Najdan
... Yes, taking revenge on Najdan was yet one more reason to survive and triumph, whether he did it himself or through his son. Meanwhile, based on Zarien's vague explanations of what had happened in the east, he also knew that Cheylan was dead. That was one more enemy eliminated, and Kiloran was glad.

"Love the water," Kiloran taught Zarien, "so that it can love you in return."

This was where a waterlord gave his heart of stone. To
this.
To the pure chill of power that rewarded his talent beyond anything Dar could ever offer. This great gift drank a man's heart like wine, and he never missed what lesser men thought of as love.

"And when the water loves you," Kiloran told his son, "then you will own it and do with it as you will."

They had been working on this lesson for a long time, and the boy's skin gleamed with the sweat of exertion. He was breathing hard, his arms trembling... and then suddenly the pool of water bubbled.

"Yes," Kiloran encouraged. "Don't lose focus now."

"Focus on the tas..." Zarien murmured, blinking as his concentration suddenly broke.

"What?" Kiloran snapped.

"Nothing," Zarien said, resuming his work. "Nothing."

The bubbling water started to churn, turning itself over and over in response to the boy's will. Cold steam rose from it, dancing uncertainly in response to Zarien's inexperienced and ungainly power.

"Yes." Kiloran inhaled. "Now bring it under your will. Can you feel it responding? Can you grasp it in your senses and do with it as you please?"

Breathing hard, Zarien stared unwaveringly at the water... which began to grow still, solidify, and resolve itself into the crystal-hard floor of the room.

"Excellent!" Kiloran said, very pleased. Dyshon had apprenticed for more than a year without demonstrating the ability Zarien was revealing after only a few days. "This is very promising!"

"I'm glad you're pleased, father."

"And are
you
pleased?"

"Of course."

Kiloran examined the floor. It was bumpy, and some of it was not as solid as it should be, but this was nonetheless a very good first effort. He turned to Zarien and saw how tired the boy looked. Yes, that was natural. Kiloran thought back to the distant past when he had begun learning to command his power and remembered how draining the work had been at first.

"That's enough for today," he announced.

Zarien looked relieved. "I am... a little tired."

Kiloran went to sit in the gold-encrusted chair of shells where he normally received visitors. Zarien now wandered idly around the room, looking at the collection of beautiful objects which came from all over the three corners of the world, as well as the mementos that Kiloran kept here of victories won, allies lost, and lessons learned. He would give the boy Alcinar's bracelet, which he had kept here for so long, but he no longer had it, having used it as bait to enable Dyshon to kill Wyldon.

"You did not make all of these
shir
," Zarien guessed, studying the display of wavy-edged daggers on one watery wall.

"No," Kiloran agreed. "I took those from the bodies of my enemies."

"But there are also
shir
here which look like yours."

"They are. I keep these to honor valuable men I've lost. And to remind me of past mistakes." He paused before pointing to a particularly beautiful
shir
and saying, "That one was Armian's."

Suddenly transfixed, Zarien reached out to it. Perhaps he felt the vicious cold emanating from it, because he stopped himself just before touching it. "What's it doing here?"

"Tansen returned it to me when I rescinded the bloodvow and joined the rebellion."

"Tansen kept it for a long time, then?" Zarien's voice was very soft.

"Nine years." 

"He never keeps them," Zarien murmured, frowning at the
shir
. "Well, maybe just for a little while, if he needs them for a plan. But he doesn't ever..." He continued staring at it, then asked, "Why do you think he kept it?"

"Out of guilt? For combat? As a trophy?" Kiloran shrugged. "One rarely knows, with Tansen." He watched the pensive boy, wondering what he was thinking. "Armian was Harlon's son—a great waterlord who died many years ago—and Armian had the same gifts which you possess. Tansen, as you must know, hates water magic and wants every waterlord in Sileria dead." Kiloran knew that the young could be very sentimental, so he added for good measure, "He would have killed you, Zarien. Surely you know that?"

"Yes, father," Zarien replied.

"There can be no other way, not for Tansen. He murdered his own father, and he'd have murdered his son. You must never doubt that."

"No, father."

"I imagine you were fond of him, but you must never trust him. As long as he lives, he is a terrible danger to you."

Zarien turned his back, ostensibly studying more of the displays along the walls. But Kiloran felt his tension as he turned to a new subject and asked, "After you joined the rebellion... Why did you kill Josarian? He was the Firebringer."

Fire
, the old Guardian woman had promised him.

Kiloran ignored the intrusive memory. "Josarian killed my son, Srijan."

"But you had already tried to kill Josarian, hadn't you?"

The boy was bold. It was an important quality, so Kiloran didn't try to discourage it. "Josarian challenged me. Publicly as well as privately. Tried to give
me
orders. Told
me
how to run the Honored Society. He interfered in our business and opposed our plans. He became my enemy, and so I had to treat him as one." His son turned to face him as he said, "This is an important lesson, Zarien, so remember it well: Pardon one offense, and you encourage the commission of many."

"I..." Zarien again looked at Armian's
shir
, his brow furrowed.

"Permit rudeness, and you're offered insolence next. Permit insolence, and opposition follows. And opposition..." Kiloran waited for Zarien to meet his gaze again. "That we cannot allow."

"Never?" Zarien asked.

"Never," Kiloran confirmed.

"But is it right to make people go thirsty just because—"

"If you want to be one of us," Kiloran told him, "you cannot be one of them. And you, Zarien, are one of us. Your gifts have determined your choice for you."

"My gifts," the boy murmured.

"Our destiny," Kiloran taught him, "is to be obeyed. Demanding obedience is the source of the Society's power."

"But the Society is all but finish—"

"You and I are just beginning," Kiloran assured him.

"Why must it be this w—"

"What do the waterlords seek when they withhold water?" Kiloran prodded.

Zarien hesitated before replying, "They seek obedience."

Kiloran nodded, pleased. "Now do you understand?" 

"Yes, father, now I understand."

Mirabar and Najdan traveled through territory that was increasingly coming under the loyalists' complete control. They pushed themselves hard to return to Belitar in haste now that they'd left Shaljir.

When they encountered some Guardians traveling from the sacred caves of Mount Dalishar to Shaljir, where they would join in celebrating the birth of the Yahrdan, Mirabar was shocked by what they told her.

"The visions are continuing at Mount Dalishar?" Mirabar asked in astonishment, certain she must have misunderstood.

"Golden eyes in the sky at night," one of them confirmed.

"Or sometimes a fist," another added.

"And a voice. 'He is coming.'"

"But he is already here," Mirabar protested. "I don't understand."

"We saw this again just two nights ago,
sirana
."

By then, Gaborian had already arrived in Shaljir.

"Perhaps,
sirana
," another of the Guardians said, "it's Dar's way of assuring the people that Gaborian is indeed the one? The pilgrims at Darshon witnessed the birth, but the pilgrims at Mount Dalishar did not. So Dar may feel they need encouragement."

"Perhaps," Mirabar said, frowning in puzzlement.

"
Sirana
," Najdan called from his position on a rocky ledge, where he kept watch for the approach of strangers. "If we want to reach Belitar by sundown, we must press on."

She agreed, took her leave of the Guardians bound for Shaljir, and waited for Najdan to help her mount her horse.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"I don't know," she admitted.

It soon began raining again, which made their progress slower than they would have liked. It was nearly dark by the time they reached Belitar. Baran must have been advised of their arrival, since the moat hardened for their crossing as soon as they reached it. As they entered the main hall of their damp, crumbling home, Haydar flung herself at Najdan. 

Mirabar assumed Baran was, as usual, in his study, so she headed in that direction. She stopped in surprise, though, when Tansen emerged from that room.

How can I tell him? What do I say
?

She was so distressed that it took her a moment to realize that he looked tense, furious, and...
scared
. Yes,
Tansen
looked scared.

"Baran's just received a letter from Kiloran," he said without greeting her or acknowledging Najdan.

A chill seized Mirabar. She knew what he would say next.

"He's got Zarien."

They began forming their plan that same night, then explored possible problems and new solutions the next day as they prepared for battle.

"
This
was his contingency plan. And it's a good one, you must admit," Baran said to Tansen. "A son, an heir, someone to carry on Kiloran's battle for years to come. Even better, a weapon—one exquisitely crafted to hurt
you
and affect your judgment. And as for me..." They were in the waterlord's study, examining a detailed map which Najdan had made of Kiloran's territory and of Kandahar itself. "Kiloran thinks I'd never attack, now that I know he's got Alcinar's child. He thinks I'd be too afraid of the boy getting killed. Maybe he even thinks this news will crush me. Distract me. Make me too irrational to do anything to interfere with his plans." 

"Will it?" Tansen asked grimly, studying Baran's haggard, thin, pain-lined face and the wild glitter in his feverish eyes.

"I would rather Alcinar's son died," Baran said coldly, "than become what Kiloran will turn him into. What Kiloran turned
me
into."

Tansen seized Baran by the front of his expensive tunic and flung him hard enough against a damp wall to get his full attention. He ignored Mirabar's cry of protest and took Baran's throat in his hand. 

"Zarien is my son," he reminded Baran. "If he dies, I will kill you and every single one of your assassins. Do I make myself clear?"

"Tansen," Mirabar admonished.

Baran wheezed with laughter. "The amusing thing," he choked out, "is that Kiloran undoubtedly thinks
you're
the one who'll be willing to kill the boy. Perhaps even determined to kill him. Kiloran has never understood love, after all, and everyone knows how much you hate waterlords."

"Zarien's not a waterlord," Tansen growled. "He will never be one of
you
. If I thought for a moment that he
would
be... Yes, I'd kill him. But he's better than you! He's strong enough to have this gift without letting it twist him into what the rest of you became."

"Oh, and is
that
why he ran away and sought out Kiloran the moment he knew what he was, what he could become if guided by a master?" Baran prodded nastily.

"He ran away because he was scared and confused," Tansen insisted, pressing harder on Baran's throat in his anger at himself, in his knowledge of what his instinctive rejection had driven Zarien to do. "He went to Kiloran because he believed he had to. And because..."