Excerpt of The Destroyer Goddess by Laura Resnick

Tansen returns from Mount Shaljir, where he has just made Zarien his bloodson.

Elelar realized what Tansen had done as soon as she saw the blood-soaked cloth wrapped around his left hand.

"Are you sure that was wise?" she asked him when they were alone in the same room at Santorell Palace where she had watched Searlon murder Cyrill.

"You're supposed to congratulate me," he replied. "Becoming a father is—"

"He is not like other boys. Surely you see that."

"Dying and being given new life by a goddess has a tendency set someone apart," he agreed dryly. "However, since I saw my bloodbrother through a similar fate, who better than me—"

"This could be a very good thing for you," Elelar interrupted. "I see that. I understand that."

"Then why do you look like I've taken a fever instead of a son?"

"Because men never think these things through practically."

"Don't start," he warned her.

"He was sea-bound for the first fourteen years of his life," she persisted. "How well do you really know him? How well could you possibly—"

"Much better," he pointed out, "than many people know each other before they get married." He lifted one brow but didn't bother to cite an obvious example. He didn't need to.

She turned to another topic. "We've received bad news."

"What?"

"Baran is siding with Kiloran."

His expression became focused and very serious. "How do you know?"

"We've learned that they had a truce meeting."

"Ah. I knew there'd been one, but I didn't know if Baran attended."

"He did. And he and Kiloran made their peace there. Temporarily, of course."

"Of course."

"In front of quite a few witnesses from the Honored Society, Baran agreed to oppose you and to help Kiloran bring Shaljir under the Society's influence—by using the Idalar River, obviously."

His jaw worked for a moment. Then he said, "Damn. That's discouraging." After a heavy pause, he added, "Still, maybe Mirabar can bring Baran around. He might still be—"

"Mirabar should stay away from him." When he looked sharply at her, she explained, "Before they parted, Baran and Kiloran divided up their tasks. Kiloran is coming after you... and Baran will take charge of killing Mirabar." A moment later, she said to his retreating back, "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"What?" He had no home.

"I'm leaving Shaljir," he said, opening the door and pausing briefly. "I told Mirabar to do whatever she had to do to get Baran on our side. If she doesn't know about this truce meeting, she'll walk right into whatever trap he sets for her, especially if he baits it with promises of cooperation. I've got to stop her."

"Tan—" She closed her mouth. He was already gone.

A moment later, she heard him shouting for Zarien as he ascended the steps to gather his few belongings and set off for the mountains again.

* * * * *

[Baran has a secret meeting with Dulien the waterlord.]

Dulien scowled at him. "Did you know that as soon as the Valdani abandoned Cavasar, he killed the two waterlords who used to control the city's water?"

"He?" Baran asked mildly.

"Kiloran!"

"Oh, yes. Do forgive me. Go on."

"Now he's got that sycophant, Meriten, trying to wrest Abidan's and Liadon's territory from the Guardians."

"I gather that shallaheen are stabling sheep in the ruins of the twins' houses." Baran sighed and shook his head. "Does no one have any respect anymore?"

Dulien continued sulkily, "Kiloran also had Searlon openly helping Meriten."

"So I heard."

"And now..." Dulien paused dramatically. "Searlon has disappeared."

"Dead?" Baran asked with hopeful interest.

Dulien shook his head. "No. Surely someone would boast of Searlon's death, if that were so. And Kiloran would certainly mourn him."

"True. So... Searlon's on some delicate mission for his master," Baran surmised, "and no one knows where or can guess what."

"It makes me nervous," Dulien admitted.

"I imagine it makes everyone nervous."

"It means there's something even more important to Kiloran than just the things we already know about," Dulien explained, as if Baran might somehow have failed to grasp this implication. "You know: helping Meriten reclaim the brothers' territory, destroying you, killing Tansen, accessing the mines of Alizar, get—"

"Yes, yes, you needn't go through the whole list, Dulien."

"If Meriten gets that territory, it will be the same as Kiloran's having it." Dulien waited for Baran to agree with him. Baran merely gazed at him with a pretense of polite interest. Dulien continued angrily, "Kiloran's already got Cavasar, Kandahar and its territory, the Zilar River, the mines of Alizar, the Idalar River... Well, the Idalar River if you can't hold onto it. And having the Idalar will give him Shaljir. And now he's after Verlon's territory!"

"Verlon's territory? Really?"

"Attacks on Verlon's assassins. Many dead."

"Jagodan shah Lironi is making war on Verlon," Baran pointed out, "so surely that's why many are d—"

"Yes, yes, but Kiloran is attacking, too."

"How do you know?" He could already guess, but he wanted to be sure.

"A shir of Kiloran's was found at one of the massacres."

Oh, yes.

"Ah," Baran said, encouraging Dulien, "just like the initial attack on Wyldon's stronghold?"

"Precisely!"

"Very, very disturbing," Baran agreed gravely.

"And now a shir of Kiloran's has been found among Gulstan's slain men, too."

"My, my. Who's next?" Baran mused.

"Exactly!" Dulien pounced. "Kiloran wants it all!"

Oh, yes. This strategy had Tansen's name written all over it. Not that Tansen could write his name, of course. But this sort of calculated misdirection which was wasting the waterlords' energy and scattering their focus was precisely the sort of tactic at which Tansen excelled. Really, it was surprising that the other waterlords couldn't see that.

Then again, considering what a fool Dulien was, and what a blood-thirsty hot-head Verlon was, perhaps it wasn't so surprising, after all.

"So what do you want from me?" Baran asked Dulien. "Apart from the pleasure of my company today, I mean."

* * * * *

Mirabar's hand moved across Tansen's chest and into the neckline of his worn tunic. He felt his head swim and his vision fade before he remembered to keep breathing. Her breath was warm on his neck, her cheek rubbing softly against his hair. He was trembling with waves of instinct and emotion that howled to be unleashed.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered.

"Yes," she murmured, smoothing her hands down his sides to find the hem of his tunic.

He stopped her from pulling it up. "What about—"

"Don't," she said, tugging the frayed garment out of his grasp and sliding it up his back. "Don't bring anyone else in here with us."

"No," he agreed, feeling the hot rush of need flow through him unguarded now. "No one else. No one but us."

Her palms were warm against his skin as she pushed his tunic up. He ducked his chin and raised his arms, letting her pull it over his head. The night air on his naked back had never felt so soft before, so full of promise. Mirabar tossed his tunic aside as he turned to her, still seated, and drew her to stand between his legs.

Her eyes glowed like the heart of Darshon's caldera, and he would never look into another woman's eyes again without finding them dull and lacking. Her fiery hair was soft in his hands, tangled from the winds which had swept the village all day. Her touch was firm, cherishing him, inviting him to be bold.

There was so much to discover, so much to learn. All the wonders hidden beneath a shallah woman's modest clothes. All the secrets hidden beneath a lover's skin. The whispers they had never exchanged before, the looks they had veiled, the desires they had kept secret and fiercely imprisoned. All this was theirs now, without reserve or thought or caution. It seemed incredible they had waited so long, and unthinkable that they should wait even a moment longer.