The White Dragon (55 page)

"A rider arrived from Shaljir this morning to spread the word!" the stranger replied in response to his question about the raucously festive celebration in progress. Considering that Josarian was dead, this was the last thing Tansen had expected to find happening here. "The Valdani have declared unconditional surrender!"

Tansen thought he felt his heart stop. Then it resumed beating, thundering in his chest with joy, relief, and victory.

"They are turning Sileria over to native rule!" the man cried. "They are leaving Shaljir. Leaving Sileria!"

The stranger was so overcome that he impulsively embraced Tansen. Normally reserved, Tansen returned the embrace.

We've won!

"The Valdani have surrendered?" Radyan demanded in a high voice.
 

"They've surrendered!"

"We've won!"

Tansen staggered away from the stranger's bear hug and grinned at his companions. Galian whooped wildly and started slapping everyone on the back, even people he'd never seen before.

"No battle for the port of Shaljir?" Zarien asked. "No... no sea-born slain?"

"Without a fight!" the stranger confirmed in exultation. "The Imperial Advisor simply gathered the people in Santorell Square and announced surrender!"

Tansen grasped Zarien's shoulder. "Your family is safe," he assured him.

Radyan shouted, "We're free!" He slung his arms around both their necks and hugged them fiercely as he spun in a circle. The other men in their group joined in, jumping on top of them, slapping their backs, shouting, whirling them around.

It's done!
 

"We've won!"

"Dar be praised!"

"Blessed be Josarian's memory!"

Tansen heard that and wanted to sink to his knees, suddenly swamped with sorrow that his brother hadn't lived to see this moment, the achievement to which he had dedicated his life and consecrated his death.

His head was spinning when his men released him. Zarien looked disheveled and happy. Radyan glowed with triumph. Galian bayed to the tiled rooftops.
 

There was music, buoyant laughter, singing. People shared their wineskins with each other, as well as with Tansen and his men. They raised the skins high to pour wine over each other's heads in gleeful abandon. The people of Zilar danced in the streets, in their fountains, even on their roofs. So did the strangers among them, the rebels who had come from all over Sileria to join Josarian in the siege of Shaljir—a battle which now would never be necessary.

"Blessed be Josarian's memory," Tansen repeated quietly.

Mirabar knew he was in Zilar before she saw him. He'd been recognized and, without ever glimpsing him, she heard the people of Zilar chanting his name.

"
Tansen! Tansen! Tansen!"

Mirabar's traveling party had not made good time coming here from Dalishar, since Najdan had deemed it wise not only to avoid Kiloran's territory, but to also avoid the river valley that was the most direct route. They had arrived last night and slept in the Sanctuary just beyond the edge of town, surrounded by countless rebels who were mourning Josarian's death—and who were also, as requested by the runner he had sent ahead of him, awaiting Tansen's arrival.
 

Mirabar's vague notion of inspiring the mourning masses with visionary hope until Tansen got here had been swept away in a torrent of rejoicing when the news arrived from Shaljir.

Freedom in Sileria
.

Her eyes kept misting over. Even Najdan was moved by the extraordinary event. There was no one in Sileria who had not risked or lost or suffered because of the rebellion; but Najdan's life, like Mirabar's, had changed beyond recognition since the day they had met. He, like she, had given everything to their cause.
 

"
Sirana!
" Pyron, who had come to Zilar with her and Najdan, came bounding up to her, as buoyant as a child. Stinking of the wine someone had poured all over him, he proffered the last thing she would have expected.

"Thank you, I don't need a hammer," she said. "Where is Tansen?"

"Coming,
sirana
. The crowd is slowing him down." He grinned and extended the rejected hammer to her again. "We wanted to offer you the honor of the first blow."

She eyed the hammer. "Blow?"

"The Sign of the Three! We're going to tear it down!"

"Oh!" She took the hammer in her hand, caught Najdan's eye, and said, "Yes. Thank you. It would be my pleasure."

Zilar was known for its relative wealth, its fabulous views, its lush foliage, and for the vast gold-tiled Kintish temple which dominated its main square. Not even the repairs that were obviously needed could detract from the beauty of this exquisite structure, which Kintish craftsmen, now dead for centuries, had made a thing of eternal grace. One hundred years ago, the Valdani had erected a garish Sign of the Three in front of the temple and reconsecrated the building to their trinity.

From this day forward, though, the Three would never again hold sway in Sileria. It would indeed be a pleasure to demolish the symbol of foreign gods which had, for a century, marred the beauty of Zilar's main square. Mirabar followed Pyron as he pushed through the crowd, creating a path for her.
 

She was famous throughout Sileria now: the fire-eyed, flame-haired prophetess whom Josarian had trusted and Kiloran had respected. People cheered her as she passed, chanting her name noisily enough to compete with the praises being heaped upon Tansen. Only a year ago, it had been dangerous for her to travel anywhere in Sileria, where she was still sometimes taken for a demon. Now the people of Zilar and all the rebels who had come to join them, reached out to touch her, sang her praises, applauded her very presence, and pressed forward to help her, with more enthusiasm than deftness, as she clambered up onto the Sign of the Three. Having grown up wild in the mountains, though, she needed no assistance and progressed faster after shaking off the helping hands.

When she reached the top of the gaudy monument to Valdania's dominant religion, she saw hundreds upon hundreds of faces looking at her expectantly. She realized she ought to say something suited to the occasion.
 

"Today, as promised in prophecy for centuries, we are finally free!" Mirabar called out. "And Dar will no longer tolerate the gods of the
roshaheen
profaning Her land!"

Their approbation was thunderous. Mirabar raised the hammer high and brought it down with all her might on the gold and granite monument.

"Ow!"

She felt as if her arm would fall off. Perhaps it should have occurred to her that banging into solid granite would be bone-jarring.

"Having trouble?" a familiar voice asked.

Mirabar's gaze flew to where Tansen stood on the ground directly below her. His humble clothes, unkempt from all the pulling and tugging of the crowd, were those of an ordinary
shallah
; but no one would ever take him for an ordinary man. Her heart flooded with life as she met his gaze. His dark eyes were alight with rare happiness and laughter. His long black hair absorbed the brilliant sunlight, and his bronzed skin glowed with inner fire.
 

Mirabar waved the hammer. "It's harder than it looks," she called back, trying to be heard above the shouting and chanting.
 

"Well, you're only a little thing," he replied.

She arched her brows at him and proffered the hammer. "Care to try it yourself?"

The crowd loved it. A roar of laughter and encouragement followed Tansen as he scrambled up to join her atop the monument. Before Mirabar handed him the hammer, she warned, "Don't ever call me 'a little thing' again. I don't like it."

He grinned, took the hammer, and warned, "Stand back."

With muscles which were, admittedly, a lot bigger than hers, he took a heavy swing, brought the hammer smashing against a corner of the monument, and chipped a piece off.
 

While hundreds cheered the first piece of rubble to fly off the Sign of the Three, Tansen winced and admitted, "That does hurt."

She laughed. "Perhaps we should leave the rest to people who've had too much wine to care."

He nodded and gazed out across the crowd. "Perhaps we should take advantage of their attention while we have it, and their spirits while they're still high."

Mirabar looked at the countless people gathered here. Their faces were full of triumph. Even the shadow of Josarian's death couldn't stifle their joy in the wake of the news from Shaljir. She supposed that even the thought of opposing the Society wouldn't daunt them right now. Not at this moment.

"Yes," she agreed. "Better not wait until they're too drunk to listen, or until they're calm enough to think and get scared. It's best to speak now, when they feel ready for anything... and believe that
you
can achieve anything."

Tansen's expression revealed mingled amusement and consternation at this assessment, but he nodded his agreement and raised his hands to ask for quiet. When he had it, he addressed his people in a strong, confident voice.

"Until now, we've thought only of driving the
roshaheen
from our land. Only of freedom!" He paused as the crowd responded, then continued, "Now we must consider what kind of nation we want to be. Josarian might have led us, but he is dead, murdered by Kiloran..." He waited again, but when the crowd started chanting his name, he stopped them. "I'm a warrior, not a ruler!"

"Tansen! Tansen! Tansen!"

"But a new ruler is coming! The first Yahrdan in a thousand years will soon take his place at the head of this nation, to rule us in freedom and prosperity." This startling news quieted them
 
again.

Under his breath, he said to Mirabar, "I am telling the truth, aren't I?"

"I hope so."

"I was counting on a more positive answer."

"I only repeat—"

"Forget I asked." Addressing the crowd again in a full voice, he announced, "Mirabar, who foresaw the coming of the Firebringer, has envisioned a new ruler, chosen by Dar, who will soon take his place among us!"
 

Tansen turned and gave her a piercing look. Recognizing her cue, Mirabar blew flame into her palms then raised her hands, creating an impressive arc of fire overhead. "He is coming!" she proclaimed. Sensing that Tansen wanted a little more, she added, "He is coming in a blaze of glory, in a river of Dar-blessed fire, to rule this land in peace and prosperity!"

"But he's young," Tansen added, "and we must shield him." Mirabar was momentarily surprised that he announced this, but then understood when he continued, "We must shield him from Kiloran, who betrayed and slaughtered the Firebringer!"

Ah.

"Our freedom, our ruler, our nation's future depends on destroying Kiloran, who has sworn to oppose the Yahrdan as he opposed the Firebringer!"

Kiloran didn't even know yet about Mirabar's visions of the Yahrdan, but she supposed the minor lie was reasonable. Kiloran certainly
would
oppose him, whoever he was, when he appeared among them.

"Who will be brave and stand with me," Tansen asked, "in defense of the new Yahrdan?" When he got the response he had hoped for, he added, "Who will avenge Josarian?" They were Silerians, so they liked this notion even better, and the sheer volume of their voices proved it. "Who will help me fight Kiloran and the Society for ultimate rule of Sileria?"

In the glow of victory against the Valdani, their response suggested they could do anything.