The First Age

She watched him from the corner of her eye. He didn’t sound at peace; he sounded like a man finally giving in. After the manner of his brother’s death, the echo of such a sentiment in Jai’s voice shivered her through. His smile was hollow, a poor estimation of the one which always tugged feeling into her chest. This time it plummeted instead with the weight of despair. But it was the tap against his temple which drew her attention. The Black and White Towers were not so closely aligned that the temperament of a man like Jai was common knowledge among the sisters here. Politically shrewd Aes Sedai might know his position in Daryen’s court, but how many would have considered it necessary to infuse that kind of calm into the instruction of an Asha’man? It suggested a personal knowledge she was loath to contemplate, for it might easily take the shape of a betrayal. Could she trust Daryen with that kind of suspicion? Another thing to consider later. 

“Then I will be the sword and shield. I’ll fight for us both.” She said it like a vow; steadfast, offhand, as easy as breathing.

The question he asked seemed plucked like a handful of dust from the void. Sarcasm laced her immediate response, but she didn’t withhold the truth. It was an outcome that laid one more card on top of an already delicately balanced tower of them. No explanation followed as to why she had not chosen to interfere, in part because she was not sure he would even remember this conversation, and in part because she was deliberating on whatever must have pierced the parameters of the compulsion to allow him to ask. He didn’t seem to care about the answer, but some kind of gear had clearly clicked over in his head.

The rest she uttered precisely because she knew he could not respond. A cruel balm to her own regret. She followed him through the gate.

The room was barren, and dark until saidin-fused light illuminated its empty corners. Nythadri’s gaze skimmed the few defining features picked out in the shadows, but mostly she only watched and waited to see what Jai would do next. No surprise fluttered for where she imagined they must be, though she spared a thought for Eleanore’s concern at feeling her suddenly ripped so far away from Tar Valon. For now a breath of calm would have to suffice for reassurance; she was starkly aware of the delicate trust that rested between them, and the ways she continued to test it, but there was nothing she could do about it.

A few nods rippled from the men they passed in the cramped maze of halls beyond, and she realised her presence would probably serve to make Jai’s time here more easily memorable. Whether that would be help or hindrance in the long run she was not sure. She wondered if it had occurred to him that it made her complicit in whatever transpired at his hand tonight. Probably not. And she didn’t voice it; she didn’t want to put the thought into his head.

They travelled downwards. The destination proved innocuous; a simple basement, and the door which presently became Jai’s focus, ordinary and unadorned. When the dismissed Dedicated collapsed Nythadri did not react, bar to meet the entreaty in Jai’s gaze with frowning acknowledgement. She didn’t ask questions; it seemed pointless.

He dragged the desk. Arranged himself with frenetic precision. His continued glances between door and paper made it clear enough what he was doing. The Dedicated hadn’t been a guard; that must be the door itself. Asha’man relied on the One Power for practically everything after all. Nythadri flipped through the pages of the ledger Jai had torn the paper from, scanned the faded ink to discover listings of various valuables. The door would seem to be a vault. But she doubted Jai had been sent here for a simple theft. Two entirely separate tasks would be too much to risk burdening on the mind; they had to be connected to a single objective. Most likely this was the method not the goal. Which accounted for Jai’s thoughtful dedication to planning the entire walk through the White Tower. What he was seeking could be dismissed, at least for now, beyond it being a tool Jai deemed necessary to the task.

Why he felt he needed it was the question.

You clearly don’t think like a darkfriend, Arikan had scathed earlier. Hardly an insult, but he underestimated Nythadri’s capacity for clinical thinking. If a sister wished so vehemently to undermine the peace between Arad Doman and Seanchan that she would incite the toppling of an Amyrlin, then clearly she would wish to finish the job. Larnair was a staunch and strong ally. Better to have both Towers dancing on puppet strings and wading in chaos, especially when the weapon chosen fit both criteria so beautifully well. Light knew the Black Tower had been through enough M’haels in its short history, and one did not have to dig deeply to discover Jai had ample, publicly known reason for retaliation against this one. She hadn’t wanted to consider it possible, but the moment she realised where the gate led she had been sure what he had been tasked to do. Because it was exactly what Nythadri would have done.

She watched Jai work for a moment longer, face utterly inscrutable.

He would clearly be occupied for a while, and time was no friend this night. So why was she lingering? Truthfully she knew the answer to that too. She stood on a precipice. A point from which there would be no easy return.

Any help she solicited from the men here would likely end in Jai’s capture or death, and it wouldn’t solve the Compulsion upon him; denial of which would kill him for sure. Either way the Traitor’s Tree would have another bauble. All of the other options were risks, but it was the biggest one she was carefully considering. Talin had already drawn her into something that might brand her a darkfriend by sheer association. She’d wanted to protect Jai from that, but the currents that pulled them together once were crashing over their heads now. In the storm she was still. Wishing she had learned the lesson an easier way.

Saidar warmed, yet brought surprisingly little solace. Jai did not react. He was hunched and intent, muttering to himself.

The Tower had a Restorer, but Nyrekell was also a Sitter, and Nythadri had little chance of getting anywhere near the Hall. She only had one option who might be able to negotiate the tangles of Compulsion while leaving Jai’s mind intact.

If she could convince him of the need. Light.

“I had a kitten when I was a child. He was a small grey thing, very cute. But I couldn’t leave that damn cat a single moment without it getting into trouble.”

Nythadri glanced at the unconscious Dedicated; hoped the man wouldn’t inconveniently wake anytime soon. Then silver spit the air, once and twice in quick succession. She had to cheat a little to form the gate, not for the first time today. Leaving was harder than she imagined.

“This is going to seem like madness. Let’s be clear that it is. But you’re just going to have to trust me.”

[[continues at Respite & Resolve]]

His dreams had grown steadily harsher of late.

He’d not thought much of it until one day in the library. Whispers passed loudly in those hallowed halls. Vladamir found a corner with an old pillow pressed between his back and the wall, and was generally unmoved for several hours. Two Aes Sedai walked by, whispering among themselves in a way that Vladamir attempted to tune out the conversation, but it wasn’t until they turned the corner and both faces fell to blankness at the sight of the warder that they realized their mistake. Vladamir pretended not to notice, turning the page, lost in thought until one of them said his name.

He recognized both when he climbed to his feet and bowed, eyes averted aside.

For all his attempts to forget, he couldn’t forget, and he wished for the opportunity to discuss it with Edwin, but he’d not encountered the dream man for many months.

From that day on, he was watching Aes Sedai in a way that settled discomfort in his stomach. He eventually brought it up with Caia’li.

“Sitter, it is not my place, but I must comment on the tension in the Tower.”

“Your senses are accurate, Vladamir. The Hall is tense too. There is a new treaty soon to be enacted between Arad Doman and the Seanchan. We are discussing the ramifications.”

Vladamir’s frown was unsure how this correlated to the tension building among so steeply of late nor to the many dreams plaguing his nights.

He bid Caia’li to have a peaceful rest and returned to his quarters; however, a week later, he had opted to sleep on a bench in the Green Halls just to be nearer to her. He wasn’t sleeping much anyway, and he could keep a closer eye on the Gleeman who seemed to be lurking around Green doors more than anywhere else.

Then came the day that he heard that the treaty everyone was discussing was signed.

There were too many warders for all of them to wait outside the Hall of the Tower while their Aes Sedai were locked within. Vladamir was some distance away as a result, seated at a simple bench with a handheld pocketbook of poetry poised in front of him. For all the calm turning of the pages, he was completely armed and armored.

And there he waited.

A brow curled up at her insinuation of what he might do to a conscious witness. Despite the fact that he’d killed a darkfriend not an hour ago, he was almost insulted that she thought he lacked the creativity to deal with problems in alternate ways. She was right that he had no interest in leaving witnesses in his wake to chase him down later, but he was also aware that the Dragon was going to need his flaming army at some point. No point wasting resources.

It was an anti-climatic jump. He stepped over the as yet still unconscious lump on the floor. Or maybe he was dead. Arikan didn’t kneel down to check.

Instead, his study drank in another dark figure busy channeling a stream of threads with such complexity that Arikan just stood there frowning for a good minute. Watching.

There was an important reason he did not walk into this room grasping the One Power himself. A person under compulsion could exist in any manner of state of alarm. Like some cornered animal, they would protect the action of their compulsion with wild ferocity. Make the victim a channeler and things could turn intense in an instant.

As the threads of power poured into the door beyond, Arikan’s frown slowly melted into something nearing awe. “Darkness take me but that is impressive,” he murmured to himself. No wonder the Chosen selected this target. Even with all his immense power, Arikan could not perform what he witnessed and the Asha’man was wielding lesser vats of power in comparison.

He spoke quietly, but his attention was not peeled from the feat he beheld.
“What is his name?” he asked.

When Nythadri did not answer, he pressed her to respond with a look.  “I need to talk to him,” he explained, then grumbled. The frown returned, and he made sure to keep his voice low. The Asha’man was possibly not yet aware of their presence but was more likely purposefully ignoring them. He must be incredibly focused to do what he was doing.

“Compulsion can take many forms. He could be a mindless beast focused on a single task or he could be so outwardly unchanged that you’d never know anything was different. I need to know which I’m dealing with.”

Nythadri met his gaze, and she seemed on the verge of answering when suddenly the river of the power ceased its flow. Arikan was witness to the ward dissolving into nothingness.

The man climbed to his feet, knuckled his back and cracked his fingers. Sheets of paper scattered the floor at his feet. His hands were nearly black with ink. There was no obvious explanation, but when the man turned to look at them, Arikan folded his arms across his chest and waited to see what would happen.

The man was tall. Taller than Valtin. Maybe 6’4” or more. There was no way to determine his age, but Arikan guessed that he was not as young as he looked given the complexity of what was just performed. It was best to assume he once knew the taint, but there was no way to discern its effects. In turn, the Asha’man studied him, and Arikan was prepared for recognition, but none came. He did not know his face, then.

But he looked at Nythadri with such open longing that Arikan followed the line of sight back to the Aes Sedai. A picture quickly formed of why the self-righteous Green would deign to dally with the devil to save the M’Hael’s life.

It wasn’t the M’Hael at all that she was trying to save.




Jai was relieved Nythadri returned but was outwardly curious who she brought. He was no Asha’man that Jai recognized, though he had the high and mighty glare of nobility that Jai seemed to find himself drowning in everywhere he went. Light.

He shrugged to himself and proceeded to open the door. It swung freely with a mere tug. All that work for such a simple action. He shook his head and ducked into the store room.

A moment later he realized that he was followed inside.

He looked over his shoulder. The nobleman was surveying the shelves curiously. Jai, meanwhile, knew exactly what he wanted. Just one thing waiting alone in the back. It was a white sphere no bigger than a marble. Like the glass cousins, it was swirled with colors throughout but was as indestructible as Jai imagined an object could be. His fist closed around it, and he left the way he came.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he said to the noble beckoning him to leave.

“You are right,” he said and followed.

Jai didn’t close the door behind him. He didn’t so much as look at Nythadri as he passed. All he knew was the pressure in his mind and pull of the legs. The power danced the edges of his senses, and with the orb in his palm, he knew he could do what he was here to do, and he was so close he could almost taste it.




The Asha’man’s compulsion was the latter sort, then. It was ten times harder to create a compulsion so neatly laid that it was all but hidden. Nythadri must know the Asha’man well to discern the subtle differences in behavior that tipped her off. It reeked of a Chosen, and among them, there were only a handful who were so skilled. Oh, any of them, Arikan included, could create a mindless beast to do their bidding, but the subtlety of this level was delicate and balanced. His discernment went first to Raviel and second to Graendal.

His pockets were full of treasures when he left the store room. His own walking arsenal of enhancers. He might have smiled if he was alone in the dark.

Together, they followed the Asha’man on the ever winding journey upward.

The Black Tower was in many ways as Arikan remembered and in many others completely changed. The chaotic pathways and mismatched doorways remained, but the routes were unfamiliar to him. He once stalked the halls leading to the chambers of a M’Hael, but they were rearranged now. The decor was grander in places. Years of Soldiers practicing their power flows had smoothed stone, lifted archways, and funneled out slits and other defenses.

Together the three of them passed others who called the farmland home. Arikan positioned himself a half step behind Nythadri, who herself was watchful of the Asha’man, their clear leader. A few faces bowed to their passage, but the fortress was still this night. Almost as if they sensed the tension piling before the breaking of the storm.

The M’Hael’s quarters was opulent in contrast to the utilitarian design of the Tower. Here there were dark curtains. Braziers twisted threads of unending flame. There were weapons on display of the sort that an Asha’man didn’t need, but Arikan recognized the style as Ebou Dari. He never met the men who took over following al’Mere’s demise, but rumor said this one was ruthless enough that the Shadow coveted his allegiance.

As far as he knew, they never acquired it.

The Asha’man knocked on the door, and things happened fast after that. 

The moment the door opened, a face flashed an expression of confusion. Then saidin erupted in a storm.

The Asha’man rushed him, their forms tangled as much as the threads of saidin erupting from each. He blazed with a strength pushed through the enhancement of the angreal in his palm, and the M’Hael had no chance in comparison.

But Arikan did.

He was a half step behind, power swarming through his own. A sa’angreal that the Asha’man walked right past ignorant of its existence.

“Enough!” he ordered, slamming a shield upon both channelers simultaneously. With the sa’angreal, Arikan didn’t so much as struggle, but he knew that the pull of the power would summon the M’Hael’s personal guard. They had next to no time.

He sealed them up in the M’Hael’s quarters with wards so tight they were all but entombed within.





Red blazed his vision. When Daryen shielded him, the force of it knocked him from the Razor’s saddle. This time, he was thrown across the room. At his side, the M’Hael was likewise crumpled. Both men groaned as they rolled to their arms and legs. Each lifted their head in unison, fixed upon the sight of their mutual enemy.

For a moment, Jai forgot what he was there to do.

But not for long. He recovered quickly, hurried to his feet in a flash, and drew his sword. One way or another he was going to kill the man at his side until flows of saidin erupted fresh. They tangled both their bodies and each man lifted from his feet a few inches off the floor. Arms and legs stretched as though fastened to the rack.

The nobleman walked forward to face them, surveying his captives. He was a channeler after all. At his side, Larnair scowled accusations of darkfriends and dreadlords.

Jai struggled against the bonds. Hate and murder wracked his expression oblivious for anything the M’hael said.

But it was to Nythadri that the nobleman spoke, and Jai’s attention was momentarily stolen from the intention. His heart sank with the hurt of betrayal.

“If the Asha’man doesn’t do what he was sent to do, he will die. I take it you don’t want that fate for him?” he asked with the tone of confirmation. “This type of compulsion can’t be undone. That means there is only one way to break it,” he went on.

Jai’s snarl turned to a silent frown. Larnair’s defiance and commands fell on deaf ears. Compulsion?

An amused smile flickered the nobleman’s face.


Arikan went to stand in front of Larnair.  “You remember me, don’t you?” he asked.

Larnair stopped struggling. The man met his gaze bravely, but Arikan was unprepared for the man to spit on him.

He sniffed in amusement as he wiped the fluid from his face.

“Congratulations. You’ll be the second M’Hael I’ve killed.”

And he channeled into the man’s skull until blood poured from his eyes. A moment following the body crumpling to the floor, the Asha’man was likewise released. He crashed fell to his knees as Arikan stepped back, hands plunged into his pockets to re-discover the treasures within.

The Asha’man’s cry was piercing. He scrambled to the body of his lord, cupping Larnair’s bloody face in his palms, shaking and begging the Light for things it did not care to give. When he dropped the orb in his hands, Arikan scooped it up.

The Asha’man was free of the compulsion at least.

Nythadri had no power here, but she watched Arikan silently nonetheless as he examined the situation. Jai was harder to look upon, hunched over the desk, smudged dark with ink and shadows, relentless still in concentration. Meanwhile Arikan’s questions were met with a stubborn silence. Jai’s name sounding from a dreadlord’s tongue would only inflame his paranoia, and the possibility of him suspecting she had betrayed him stilled her cold. It was only when explanation followed that she parted her lips to speak; not in fact to answer, but to snap that he should have just asked that in the first place.

But then Jai finally unfurled.

It was the first time she looked at him properly since her gate closed on Illian. The chasm of it hit her again. Arikan followed the gaze between them, but she said nothing.

Then Jai entered the vault and Arikan followed. Nythadri could guess why, but did not want to observe the theft. Instead she stooped finally by the crumpled Dedicated. He was breathing shallow, still out cold, but Jai had done nothing he would not recover from. She had little gift for healing, but the flows she did impart would ease the headache when he woke. By the time Jai emerged with the dreadlord on his heels, she had straightened again. She remained a silent witness as she followed.

Frustration grew as time marched past, yet Nythadri had no recourse but to allow it. Their parade upwards was sparsely remarked upon at this hour, but poorly thought, and her calculated thoughts drew inwards from the things she could not control. If Arikan was going to act, if he even could, then he would have by now. Yet if he perceived no gain for himself at all, he would not still be here. She prepared herself for what it meant.

When they reached Larnair’s quarters, everything happened fast. The explosions of saidin that must have been erupting right then would not be ignored for long. It descended to arms before Arikan forced the two men apart.

Jai’s look at her pierced; it struck a painful blow, but Arikan’s words claimed her attention. Nothing showed in her expression, but it was a forced mask.

“You think it was one of the Forsaken,” she said in answer. Blunt with what she gleaned, as was he in turn. She did not need confirmation. The cut of her pale eyes hardened. Resolve buried conscience deep. Whatever he expected to witness in her reaction, it would not be fragility. “The one who did this will answer for it.”

As for the rest, her heart was beating hard, stomach roiling sick beneath her composure. She half stepped forward. Jai wouldn’t weather committing the act; it would be too much for him to bear, whatever Compulsions had been laid across his mind. But the oaths Talin had offered to free her from still bound her from acting herself. With saidar at least. She didn’t know if she could kill a man in cold blood; even the one who commanded Jai’s punishment, something she failed to forgive, whatever the reasons. But she wouldn’t allow Jai to damn his soul. She couldn’t.

It was Arikan who stepped forward.

Nythadri couldn’t stop it. But she didn’t try either. The light in her soul shaded in that moment of willingness to trade one man’s life for another when that man was Jai. Lanair raged. He spat defiance.

She didn’t flinch, but her eyes flared wide when the blood began to pour.

Arikan’s confessions did not go unnoticed. But for now shock rippled a trembling inside, and her mind sharpened only to necessity. When she moved it was to Jai. His howl cleaved her soul in its pain. When it had been Tashir’s body in her own hands, little had stirred her from the horrified rush of grief. She didn’t remember being forcibly removed. Her hands cupped his face, grappling softly for his attention.

“Jai,” she said, quiet and earnest. “Jai, this was not you. I have much to explain. But we cannot stay here.”

She understood the ramifications in a terrible second. Everything she had tried to protect him from crashed over them, and she would not let him drown.

Arikan lingered somewhere behind them. She did not want to see whatever amused expression he wore now. Saidar infused even as she knelt still. She reached for Jai’s bloody hands. She would make the gate. She only had to get him through it.

When Jai crashed to his knees, it was to Daniel that he crawled. This man was his M’Hael. His leader. He knelt before him. Swore to him. Was raised by him. If he was ever put on a path that led to salvation of the Dragon Reborn or this man, it was toward him he would plunge.

Yes, there was hatred mixed with loyalty. But that hatred was a burning fire at himself for not yielding. It was Jai’s own pride that Daniel had to overcome, and he did it in a way that spared Jai his life and limbs. Pride was the hardest thing to break, but time smoothed the worst of that jagged wound. Another sword was discarded. An heirloom of pride and honor that Jai turned against his lord with nary a second thought.

He was curled over Daniel. His arms were limp. The warmth still shrouding his chest. In the chaos there was another figure, and it was Nythadri’s voice that pierced, but the clouds were rolled thick. Daniel’s blood was literally on his hands when he shook his head.

“I have to turn myself in,” he muttered, pushing past her arms and plunging toward the door. Shock sped his feet, but wards wrapped them in like a tomb, but there was no logic that remained in Jai to show him how to break it. He repeated the declaration with greater and greater determination.

He was still shielded, so there was nothing to do at the door but sink to his knees and beg. “Please let me out. Please,” he begged the nobleman. Begged Nythadri. When his gaze settled on the M’Hael’s lifeless remains, he screamed at them both. “Let me out!” and he curled his face to the floor when the demand went unfulfilled. Hands wrenching the back of his neck bloody.

Meanwhile, a storm of saidin rose outside.



The volatility of the Asha’man’s reaction left Arikan blinking. His job was done and his treasures in his possession. If Nythadri wanted more of this situation, it was on her hands to deal with it. Saidin erupted outside, and he could feel the battering ram of power upon the wards holding them safely within.

“You have one minute,” he warned her, and in turn, Arikan stalked to the man’s desk and began to rifle through the papers, seeking anything of value he might take.

She watched because she couldn’t tear her eyes away. When Larnair melted Asad’s sword, she had not seen the tools Jai used to blunt the trauma, only the aftermath. Now she watched his soul bleeding out, and she was not sure how to stem the fatality. Her attention glanced past Arikan’s ultimatum. She’d prefer to call it mercy, but she was sure it’d be a lie. Either way, she wasted no time wondering why he waited.

“No,” she said to Jai. Desperate pleas met straight defiance. She only said it once to counter his mounting distress, hard as fortress walls.

She didn’t appeal with logic, though the light knew she wished she could make him see it. Instead she knelt before him, her back to the door, purposeful in its small shield. She could not feel the power raging outside, but she was not ignorant of what waited when the wards breached. She was quiet for a moment, reconciling something inside.

Her hands laced overtop his, fingers blended into his as they clawed at his own neck, slippery with blood. She’d pry them loose if she could, but if not she only held on in enduring promise. She bowed low, her head pressed against his. Coils of dark hair blanketed them like night. She wouldn’t leave him, and she wouldn’t break him with force. When the words finally came, they stirred with the softest of breath.

“Don’t leave me to face this on my own, Jai.”

Where he led she would always follow. Even the Traitor’s Tree.

There was no explanation that could take away that memory of how desperately he wanted to kill Daniel. Of the hatred with which he hunted the man down. It wasn’t a cold stalking. He planned and imagined every detail with vivid consideration. Of the memory that Daniel’s screams of an agonizing death pulsed gory satisfaction through Jai. Of wanting to help the nobleman finish him off… That was why Jai clawed at the back of his neck like he might scratch the memory from his brain with his bare hands. Daniel was dead, and coerced or not, Jai was going to live with knowing what it was like to want to kill his brother.

That was why he needed to turn himself in. He had no idea how he came to be in this room, cupping Daniel’s blood-washed skull, but he knew that he had to be the one to do it. The last he knew he was in Bandar Eban witnessing Daryen sign away his life and country for what? For wealth and prosperity? Was he not wealthy and prosperous enough? Was that why he wanted to kill Daniel? For letting it get this far?  It was maddening. A roar of despair shook an avalanche from his chest, and from the back of his neck, he squeezed his own skull like the answer might pour out if pressed hard enough. His forehead was digging into the floor. His elbows dug deep.

Until the pressure was slowly peeled away. His hands loosened in the coaxing of hers, and he felt her face sink low to his. She would hear his despair, but he dare not look up. He wanted to tell her to let him go. To let him be free of this feeling and let him make something right for once in his life. There was nothing he wanted more than to just do the right thing. Nothing else in the world… except her.

When his neck twisted, the eyes that stole his heart were so close he could see nothing else, not even himself. Right, or so bloody wrong he might choke on his own screw ups, that world was the only one that mattered. His were red in turn. Sleepless and sorrowful. His breath stolen on shallow pulls he didn’t deserve to take, but her pleading shattered his will for atonement. He shook his head in submission.

“I would never leave you alone,” he whispered a soft promise in turn. He stared into her eyes and thought of a world in which she wasn’t in it. Where he wasn’t with her every moment of the day. She mattered more than a thousand M’Hael’s. A thousand oaths to duty. And in that realization, something was buried that Jai never wanted to resurrect. He gripped her hand tight in his, and together they climbed to their feet. New determination set the line of his jaw intense as his eyes floated beyond her shoulder with dire concern. Crash after crash of saidin assaulted from outside.

She’d never felt relief like it when he stirred. Everything she had been afraid of had existed in that moment; the choice between duty and heart; the one threatened loss that would erode the fortifications of an ironclad soul, and leave it ruined. The serpent ring on her finger was heavy with the weight of her own betrayal, but all she felt was the tangled warmth of his hands anchored in her own. Jai’s eyes were raw and terrible to behold, but she did not look away. This time it really was him that looked back. The breathing quieted in her lungs. Her forehead pressed light against his in answer to his words. Heat stung her eyes when she closed them.

It was the weight of Jai’s climb that pulled her up to her feet too. Her world was freshly shattered, the ramifications of Talin’s machinations still yet to be fully realised, but the piece in her hand now was the only one which mattered. Everything else she could manage; would manage, whatever the costs. The remaining strength she drew on was brittle, but none would know it to look at her. By now Nythadri was ice and control. Jai’s attention had already turned in concern to the door, but saidar was fluid in her grasp. It burned a little as the gate spun open to the fort’s library.

She did not look at Arikan, though she was not unaware of his presence. She’d hold the portal open until he followed.

He searched all the drawers until he found what he was seeking: a ledger filled with nonsense script. Excellent. He tucked it into his pocket and continued searching for similar signs of intelligence until he had everything he desired. A glance at the couple saw the Aes Sedai curled over the Asha’man - Jai, he thought he heard. Arikan rolled his eyes and continued searching. The toils of compulsion could break the strongest of wills, but he didn’t think the Chosen that created this one wanted a broken vessel. Assassination, even of one as wily as the M’Hael, was a tool for a blunt object. Whoever it was wanted something far more sophisticated. So what else did Jai do first? If the Chosen didn't break his mind, was it already that unhinged? Say what one wanted, but the Great Lord kept one promise: to protect from the taint. For that, Arikan acknowledged, but it didn't mean he wouldn't see the Great Lord any less dead for it. Another glance at the curled Asha'man and his opinion was decided: the taint must have damaged his mind. 

Arikan ripped a piece of paper from the ledger, flipped it over and scrawled a note on the back. Then he stalked quickly to the M’Hael’s body and padded the man’s unmoving chest for lumps. He found no pocket book, which he hoped would decipher the intelligence now in his possession, but there wasn't time to further search the quarters. So with a kick, he shoved the dead body to its back and ripped the dragon pin off his collar. A heave wrenched the man's coat straight down the center; buttons flying to both sides as the cloth opened. The coat was soggy with the blood having poured down his face, and Arikan wiped his palm on the man's leg to avoid soiling his own.

Intentional and methodical, Arikan laid the note over the man’s heart and suddenly slammed the back of the dragon pin into his chest to hold it there. The point pushed straight into the meat of the M'Hael's bare pec. Brutal, maybe, but when the eventual chaos rushed in, the note wouldn't be lost nor reddened by the blood and so drown the ink. He didn’t want his message to be ruined after all. It was important; the recipient just as much. From this position, he noticed the Asha’man was finally on his feet, the Aes Sedai ushering them through a gate.

He all but ordered them to go first.

Just as he allowed the ward to collapse and the first of the guard to crash inside, they witnessed the dreadlord Arikan standing in the light of Nythadri’s portal. His gaze moved quickly from person to person memorizing their faces but importantly noting that no women were among their company. It would take an extraordinarily strong one, but a woman could follow the gateway to their Illian fortress. He had to ensure their safety beyond.

Just as intentional, he allowed himself to be seen in turn. At least one face flashed recognition before he stepped backward with a dry twist on his lips. Their collective onslaught of saidin fell to nothing as the gate closed.

Back in the library, he moved smoothly to the table and poured two cups of wine left there from earlier.

"You're welcome," he said to Nythadri specifically, hovering over her when he offered one of the cups. The other he delivered to Jai.





The note was scrawled in Arikan’s tight script. 

Gripping her hand, he ducked through the gateway with barely an acknowledgement of the destination. It was only until he was sure the danger was behind them that he awkwardly sheathed the sword he’d snatched on the way. But damn. It was best not to think too much about his own brothers being a danger. To the sword, he had to twist around to plunge the blade back in its sheathe, but like hell was he releasing Nythadri’s hand. He gripped her palm tight even if the ring on her finger dug in fresh.

The wine he accepted and downed all in one gulp, only afterward studying their surroundings and the nobleman who brought it.