The First Age

Honestly, she was relieved by the irreverence. Nythadri would lean into ritual if she believed it meant something to him, but for her it would only be another mask to wear. So the threat of his half-grin as she cupped his face prompted the hint of her own, restrained in favour of a raised brow. “I never said you were more stubborn than me,” she argued.

“And anyway, the best pancakes are in the north. Or so you told me.” She met his eye for a moment, amused and knowing. Because until tonight he’d revealed very little of his actual life as an Asha’man, but in the benign stories he had shared he’d laid a confectionery map of his tours. Jai always revealed more than he intended. She would have known where along the border to look first.

Afterwards saidar slipped away with a little less finesse than she was prepared to acknowledge. Fatigue chased the edges of control, also ignored; she was well aware she needed to rest. She sat back on her heels for his reaction, and allowed for her own attunements as her sense of him bedded into her mind. Jai shifted physically, like he was accommodating a new balance. It seemed more of a gift than she had expected, but it was her glimpse of his boyish grin that captivated her most in the moment shared.

“Like some kind of programme, you mean? We could train the world’s most elite warriors for the honour. What a wonderful idea.” She laughed a little, unguardedly dry, but within was only a sense she was revelling in his own wonder and the part she played in it. He’d reap the same physical benefits as any Warder – and the Green Ajah had its own particular secrets. But of course, want of a warder wasn’t why she’d done it. That was why there had been no oaths. It was want of him.

Her expression remained wry under his study, amused for his reactions, but he would feel the faint surprise at how quickly and unerringly he navigated his new insight. His hands found knots that nothing in her posture suggested were tight with the tension she carried. Though as his touch had skimmed up her sleeves, and she experienced something of what he felt in turn, Nythadri did not find it to be at the forefront of what she was thinking now.

Where Jai led she followed. She felt the welcome twist of his roguishness a moment before his expression changed. Heat flooded as he pulled the ties of her robe, prompting a wicked flash of appreciation in turn, and a needful tug of teeth on lip. As his attention found her neck she made a sound that only fueled the slip of his hands inside the bare curve of her waist. “There’s more I still need to tell you,” she murmured, completely serious, but the warning was easily deferred as her palm travelled the expanse of his shoulder. There was a resonant feeling between them, and it would never be as new as that first exploration.

Her fingers curled into the hair at his nape. Trailed to his jaw. When she pulled his mouth to hers, her lips brushed with heat but did not claim, just escalated that moment of anticipation with a tease that challenged capture. He’d chased her once like no horizon would ever stretch too far, no matter the bands on her hem. When she peeled away it was slow, the distance an aching divide with every sultry step backwards. Then she slipped the fabric from her shoulder, as blatant a tease as once beckoned him into the sea’s waiting arms, but with infinitely more promise. Where moonlight kissed skin then, it was only shadow and firelight to embrace in now, and her arms that waited to welcome. But she wanted him to watch first; to feel the crave of his eyes before the roam of his hands. And to see the longing in him, as he would see and feel it in her, as that robe finally puddled to the floor.

The kisses were hungrier then. They fell back into the bed, lost in each other. Desire once recklessly courted and danced for months on strings of control finally found release.


In a perfect world Nythadri would have curled into his side to sleep after. Light knew she was exhausted enough for it, and a part of her longed to escape a while longer into a world that was solely about that new wrought connection. It would be easy to mistake it for safety, because it did have that heady weight to it. Like some part of her soul finally settled into place. And for a while she did rest in the rhythm of breath and satiation, and softer touches that were a rarer indulgence of affection. The bond hid nothing of feeling.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about that these past months,” she said, mostly for the flutter she knew she would feel from him at the confession. In normal circumstances and kinder surroundings, she would not be relinquishing him from her bed so soon at all. Not least for how long she had waited. The sly flash of pale eyes and twitch of her mouth said as much as she began to shift before she changed her mind. From the pillow of arms, she moved to rest against the headboard instead, still tangled in the sheets and the heat of his skin at her side. But it was another need she plucked from the bond. She knew Jai had absconded from the palace before the food had been served.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate, either. And I will need to set wards before we sleep.”

He’d soon enough recognise the fare the servants had brought alongside the bathwater as Illianer; platters of olives and cheese and bread, currently set along the sideboard from which he’d unknowingly channeled the wine earlier. Ellomai’s pastries had been a long time ago now too, and crumbled to ash for the turn the conversation had taken back then. Yet she was reluctant to move, for all duty's beckon. She reminded of the danger somewhat regretfully as she glanced over at him, aware of his boundaries, and aware of fears that would have sent him like an arrow plunged into night to protect those around him he loved. She would keep nothing from him, though it did not make her eager to begin.

The last time she slipped from his arms it had been into the waters of the Aryth Ocean, and confusion and regret was left in her wake. When the silk fell like whispers to the floor, his heart actually skipped a beat. She must have felt it: the tightness in his chest that was certain to crush him at any moment. Only he realized it was from holding his breath, and when the air finally burst from his lungs, it was with such emotion, he didn’t even know it was possible to feel so much all at once.

When he sank to his knees before, it was because he knew he’d never have another opportunity to display the depths of his devotion ever again, and the temptation to do so a second time was strong, but instead, he moved only a little as the towel crashed to his ankles. She already knew he wasn’t modest, and had seen as much before, but he’d never felt more vulnerable in his entire life as at that very moment. To reveal what he tirelessly kept hidden from everyone who knew him, and for the first time since gaining that scar, he was glad to have gotten up — if it meant this was where the road led.

Then, like two magnets that suddenly flipped, they rushed together on the winds of FINALLY, and he had no awareness of the seconds that passed until the downy softness of blankets filled their world. It was like being blissfully drunk on the best wine, existing in this dreamy sort of happiness that he didn’t even know was possible in this life. He did not want to stop, and he didn’t stop, but there came a moment wrapped in arms and legs, when he looked down upon Nythadri’s blushed face, brushed the hair from her temples, and breathlessly asked her permission. It was old-fashioned, but amid the desire he felt as sure as his own, the man that touched hilt to heart showed himself, and he waited for her assent. When she gave it, he smiled, pressed his lips to hers and happily obliged.


He held her tight enough to think he’d never let her go. His mind was blissfully empty, eyelids low in exchange for drinking in the million other sensations. Her weight on his shoulder. The scent of her hair, damp with fuzzes beginning to tickle his cheek. The contentment that wound through himself — into her — and back again. It was almost overwhelming except that he wanted to be overwhelmed. And he was. It was the kind of moment he imagined he'd remember during the last minutes in this life.

Her statement tugged his lips into a broad, charmingly cocky smile, though his eyes remained shut when he responded.
“I see my plan to leave you wanting more worked like a charm.”

He might have remained completely unmoved through morning until she shifted. For some reason, it wasn’t difficult to release her, and the calmness in his expression watched her find a new position with a sort of wonder for everything she did. He often questioned what thoughts swirled behind those pale eyes, but even now, she was focused on providing like a task to be marked off a list. If he was dramatic, then she was practical. So he shifted and sat up alongside her, only to fix his gaze upon the needs currently occupying her mind and body.

Still strong, and strangely not as sleepy as he expected to be, he pat her knee reassuringly. “Well, luckily for you, Nythadri Sedai, I happen to be a channeler and can take care of both those things.”

When Jai channeled, it was like walking into a fireplace roaring with flames where only the most precise, most exact steps would keep himself from catching. He had to wonder what she would feel of it, if anything: the intensity of wrestling with saidin until control was wrought. It was second-nature, of course. So much so that he could channel and not even be aware of it, apparently, but it was gloriously powerful. Even something so simple as laying trays of food within arms reach surged him with gratitude. He plucked an olive, popping it into his mouth, and enjoyed the flavor while the second task was completed. He had no idea what to ward against, though he suspected intruders were the primary threat, so on the sweep of his hand, the threads knotted themselves over the door, and as he swallowed the olive, he explained, “It’s a lot easier when there’s only one way in or out. It’s a pain to make a ward when you’re sleeping in the woods. I mean, where do you put the knot?” And he chuckled to himself.

He plucked a second olive, this time leaning near in order to roll it against the plump of her lower lip, grinning with the kind of tease that said he might follow immediately afterward.

The tang of the cheese was oddly familiar, and he nodded in final understanding. He’d eaten the same before. Long ago. Illian. But he said nothing of it. Not yet. It wasn't until he had devoured a few mouthfuls that he realized his own ravenous hunger. There, they enjoyed the moment while it lasted.

“I know you’re eager to talk, and there’s something bothering you about waiting. Guilty, maybe? I’m not sure.” His gaze sharpened as he observed her, attempting to decipher her thoughts. "So, if you're going to insist that this can't wait until morning," he began, feeling invigorated, as though he could stay awake all night and engage in more of their current activities before leaping into battle at dawn, “then I insist on something in return.”

Despite how he felt, Nythadri was practically asleep sitting up. He wasn’t quite sure how to do it, and maybe the strength came from saidin or maybe it came from himself, but mastering this newfound focus was surprisingly effortless.

He breathed deeply after infusing some of that energy back through the bond, and slipped to his back afterward until his head was propped by the pillow, where he continued to snack while he listened.

“You’re enjoying the insight,” she said. Amusement touched the accusation, and she regarded his scrutiny with a smirk, but truth was it was welcomed. His narration felt like discovery of a new intimacy rather than an interruption, and Nythadri found herself curious at how easily he grappled with what the bond revealed. Meanwhile he took care of the wards; expertise she was glad for – not that it had even occurred to her to ask him. She did not truly think the danger was imminent, but it loosened at least a little relief to have that barrier. Though it also allowed her room to acknowledge she was bone-tired. Her eyes closed for a moment. She thought of how he’d held her in the ocean; like he’d battle the waves themselves away if he could.

She ate because she was hungry and she needed to, drifting into a quiet place that was as much respite as seriousness, and completely at ease in his presence and the muss of their blankets. Mostly she tried to organise the things she needed to say in her head. Though Jai’s tease did not go unrewarded, and she did not stray too far into herself. Her sense of him actually felt more steady than she might have imagined, else it had simply settled in her a fear that had been knotting up since her Raising; one that's weight had gone unrealised until the burden suddenly lifted. They couldn't account for what might happen tomorrow, but it was a promise they would face it together.

As such it wasn’t eagerness to speak he felt in her, more like necessity. But she didn’t correct him and he was right about the urgency. Truth was the burden of knowledge sat surprisingly uneasy in her, and she would be glad to lay it down and accept however he reacted to it; not because it was too heavy to bear alone, but because of the trust that had always been between them. She didn't like the feeling of them being unequal, or that he might simply accept the things she did and did not choose to tell him. Right now her fingers were bare, but she felt the cage of the Ring nonetheless; a title and responsibility Jai might always cast in suspicion and respect. Though that was a concern for another time.

She didn’t comment on the flood of strength, though she did look at him as he propped himself on the pillow. It was a sly look despite the smile that met his smug bargain, both curious and thoughtful. But that was a question for another time too, and for now she only shifted to get comfortable.

“I didn’t leave the Tower, I was forced through a gateway,” she finally said, utterly blunt. It was the same manner in which she'd once told him about Tashir; imparting facts not feeling. How she came to be here was the first and probably least of what he needed to know, so she kept it brief.

“It belonged to the Yellow Sister you asked about before: Talin. She made it in haste on Tower grounds, some plan gone awry, though I still don’t know exactly what or how – Light knows it was the least of my problems at the time. It must have looked at least a little awkward, because another woman followed us through, though I’m certain Talin tried to prevent it. Eleanore Aramorgran, a soldier, travelled south after escorting a Brown through the Blight apparently.” She glanced at Jai to see if the name sparked recognition, but only because she knew Elly was originally from Kandor. Not that it wasn’t a large nation, but it was literally all she did know given the brevity of their acquaintance.

“There were horses waiting on the other side. The warder with them pulled a blade, and Talin was as panicked as I’ve ever seen her at the unknown woman in our midst, insisting on a need for loyalty and secrecy. The warder didn't sheathe his weapon, and I did what had to be done in the moment. She consented first, Jai; it wasn’t like that, though hardly an oath she must have wanted to give to a stranger. I offered to release her as soon as I was able. It only offended the light-blasted woman, though. We travelled by horseback for several days. Met with an Asha’man who made the Gate to the fort where we are now. I don’t know his name – Illianer by his accent. It sounded like he owed Talin a favour.”

She paused then, though only to frame her thoughts.

“You should know that Talin sees the world through a niche perspective. Good and bad are weighted by consequence not morality. She told me she believes the Tower is weak; that we are crumbling beneath petty politics, a weak Amyrlin, and the mere illusion of power. She says the Breaking never stopped, that we are still broken, and the Aes Sedai will do nothing to fix it. That we will not do what needs to be done.”

Jai was born and bred in Tar Valon. In the city that blossomed beneath the Tower’s tall shadow, words such as Nythadri shared so casually now were sacrilege. Let alone to speak them as an Aes Sedai. The Tower as an institution was beyond reproach, and even the Black Tower stepped lightly to its tune, whether they willed it or not. Nythadri did not offer her own opinion, though tonight’s events cast it entirely anew. But it wasn’t why she gave Jai the context. With the strength shared, saidar flowed effortlessly when she embraced. Tendrils of air coaxed the papers she had left on the side. She handed them to him to flick through. Medical records and notes, some unpleasant diagrams included. And the cryptic message Talin had left at the back – an indication of where she had gone, and more importantly why.

“She brought me here to meet a patient. This patient,” she said. “No one should have survived that kind of torture. They have a pact, this man and Talin. To clear the path for the Dragon and usher in the Last Battle. But there are things he has asked for in return.”

She waited for Jai to finish scanning, and to begin to compose his thoughts, before she spoke again. Her expression was level, pale eyes steady as a mountain in a storm. Not that she was unfeeling, but she'd had time to confront the mess she was in. There were no easy answers, but Nythadri had never been weak. She did not skirt around the truth when they finally came to it.

“He hardly looks like the man who almost brought the Tower to its knees, but I don’t know that I could ever forget that light-forsaken face.” Something tightened inside; some heinous memory she didn’t pause to indulge, only folded tightly away; the only time she wavered. “He speaks as if his service to the Shadow is in the past, which shouldn’t even be possible. But I couldn’t think of anyone else to turn to when I found you at the Tower. Not and keep you safe. So I took the risk of asking for his help. I thought he might know how to undo the Compulsion, but when he saw you he said it was too intricate to risk unravelling. That the only way was to fulfil it.

“He could have let you do it. He could have made me do it. But he didn’t; he did it himself, Jai. I would hardly call him lightsworn, and I don’t trust him, not even a little, but I do think he’s telling the truth about his intentions.

He is going to hunt down the Forsaken.”

Nythadri would ensure it.

If he had a weak stomach, he’d have bowed out years ago. As it was, Jai licked his fingers as he rifled through Talin’s notes. Prior to that he had been listening carefully as a soldier might fixate on complex orders, but now his mind shifted to the gruesome scene spread out on paper. Every once in a while, he would nod to himself or brows would raise in recognition of what he saw. He even looked closer once or twice to really get a good bead on what he was examining. He mumbled noises of disgust then casually popped an olive in his mouth, and on it went until he had a good picture in his head of exactly what happened to the person she described. Nythadri would find Jai’s feelings walking the tight-rope of genuinely disturbed verging on bloody impressed. This rhythm continued until the victim’s identity on the papers kindled a slow, simmering anger within him.

Memories of that fateful night – the attack, the chaos of smoke and blood, screams in the distance and tears in the next room – flashed vividly in his mind. His determination to take Asad’s sword and plunge into the night like some bloody hero briefly resurfaced before he thought better and suppressed it. Best not to think about the heirloom now.

He listened to the rest of her information, gaze flat, and feelings even flatter, placing all he now knew into the context of the story that unfolded these past few minutes. The idea of Nythadri, desperate enough to pursue the aid of a dreadlord, let alone this dreadlord added to the flatness of his empty horizon within. He didn’t know it, but he was funneling those emotions straight into the heart of the void rather than deal with them. So when his gaze moved toward the door, as if his eyes peered through the wood, traversed the hall and found the Dreadlord’s back, he imagined filling it with fiery arrows. Then a low sigh revealed he knew Arikan would outmatch him in a confrontation, though perhaps… perhaps with Nythadri? And if they caught him by surprise?

Then he looked back to her, deciphering what she said from what the bond felt and found them disjointed. She didn’t want him dead? Jai wasn’t above saying the means justified the end, but damn. Nythadri, an Aes-bloody-Sedai, wanted to use a Dreadlord as just another tool? The awareness filled him with an appreciation for her that he had never been privy to before. A fleeting smile, as telling as it was brief, crossed his lips before he rose from their bed.

Wearing only pants, bare-chested and barefoot, he effortlessly lifted the ward securing their haven and stepped into the dim hallway, the cool air brushing against his skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his smoldering resolve.

“I’ll be right back,” was all he said.


She’d seen him rash and reckless and shielded in desperate rage. But if anger sparked now it was banked under deep coals and utterly contained. This wasn't the heat of reaction. This was calculation, and when Jai wrapped himself up in so much blankness, it was usually the harbinger of self-demise.

She pulled the robe back up around her shoulders, still securing the tie at her waist when she followed him out into the hallway. The flagstones were cold underfoot; the fort was not a place built for comfort.

“You know, you spend an awful lot of time trying to shake me off.” Her lips flickered humour, though the gaze she shot up at him was deadpan. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, much as she had when he’d marched right past her back in the Tower halls. If he stopped this time more the better, but if not she only curled her fingers comfortably and relented to keep pace. “I’m not particularly enamoured of you running off in the middle of the night given present circumstances.”

Jai pushed on because he knew no other way to go, and it was for that reason alone that her urge for him to stop was only a suggestion. She would not force him, especially not to dance to a tune she was making up as she went along. The slim smile suggested he'd drawn his own conclusion, and on a night where he'd been tested to his core and stripped of almost all he knew, she knew it would be a soldier’s conclusion. Asha’man were weapons and tools of both the Dragon and the Light. Their lives were spent in service. Jai didn't even know all the details yet, but he heard enough to assume his part in it. A soldier didn't need to ask questions. But he did need to report.

“This is not an alliance, Jai; it’s a responsibility we can’t walk away from. We share a cause with him now, but I could not say that he will not make an enemy of himself in the future. If all of this is a mistake, it’s not one I’ll allow loose on the world. I will pay that price.” Nythadri spoke softly for all the dire nature of the whisper. She trusted Arikan would forge on relentlessly, but not that they wouldn’t eventually end up as collateral in the process. She hadn't wanted Jai tangled up in any of this, but now that he was she accepted it. Light knew that in a very selfish way it made things easier on her, albeit it also made the stakes all the more personal. Nythadri didn't want them in the same light-forsaken room if she could help it. Arikan was clever and deceitful and ruthless, and Jai was the one thing Nythadri wouldn't risk.

“This a far darker path than I would have liked to lead us down. But we're on it together. Where are you going?”


Not so much as a tendril of saidin wound his being because he didn’t want to be sensed and he didn’t want the dreadlord to find him a threat — if their roles were reversed, Jai would be wary of Power-wielding men marching straight toward him.

Nythadri’s explanations were met with nods of acknowledgement. He heard what she said, but he had no response other than to answer her final question. “I have something to say to him.” By their route, it was obvious who he was.

The library was dim, almost too dim to read by, but sure enough, the dreadlord was seated at the desk, papers strewn around him. A hand-held book of notes was center-most under his focus. Arikan looked up to lock him eye-to-eye, and the two men studied one another. His gaze flickered briefly to Nythadri as well as if he read them as surely as he read that book.

Arikan smirked at their dishevelment, but he said something completely unrelated, “Glad you’re here, Asha’man. Tell me what you know of the Black Tower messages and codes.” He brought the book forward for examination, but Jai punched him straight in the face. Arikan reeled, though the blow did not do much more than to push him off balance a little. Upon straightening, he gently touched his face. A trickle of blood dripped from his nose.

Shockingly, he smiled. “She told you who I am.”


Nythadri didn’t much approve, but she didn’t spend time arguing either. Whatever she made of his answer or the way he felt then, she internalised it, and in the quiet she instead considered ramifications. Stillness fell like a shutter over her expression, and she followed onwards in trust. Which wasn’t to say she was best impressed by the circumstance and the state of her own undress. Modesty did not count high on her list of priorities, nor did she feel shame to be seen so, but Arikan’s gaze cut like glass at the best of times, and she did not relish the sense of her own vulnerability in such a situation.

Back in the shadow-strewn library Nythadri watched them stare and posture across the desk. The fold of her arms was perhaps the only indication of any discomfort she felt, for otherwise the pale burn of her gaze was unblinking at them across the room. If Arikan was spending his night pouring over papers grasped in pure opportunity, and potentially worthless, then it didn’t speak much to the state of his current intelligence. He did not know where the Forsaken were hiding if he must avail of every possible resource personally. But he did not address her, and she did not speak.

Light the smirk irritated her.

When Jai’s fist suddenly snapped his head back Nythadri didn’t flinch, though she’d had no warning of the intent. It was the least of what Arikan deserved, but Jai was the only one privy to the glimmer of satisfaction she felt at its witness. She didn’t move. Saidar beckoned but she didn’t embrace either, despite the violent race of her heart. The dreadlord could toss them about the room like ragdolls if he wished, but she wagered he was too thin on resources to retaliate fully. That seemed a woefully thin defence, but it was about all they had. He needed them.



[with Nythadri]

After leaving Valtin and Miraseia, Arikan returned to the library to skim through the items procured from the Black Tower. The Objects taken from the Tower vault were already explored and secured safely back in his pockets. They were going to aid his cause greatly, but he was too weak to test any at the moment. The truth was that he was still not recovered completely from the healing, and he already channeled a great deal this night.

The main item that occupied his attention was the M’Hael’s book. It was fairly small as though it was the type of item he would carry on his person rather than some ledger for chronicling mundane history. That was why he was so eager to explore its contents. The M’Hael would only carry the most valuable of secrets on his person. Arikan hoped that somewhere in its pages lay the keys to finding the Chosen. He had every reason to believe Black Tower spies worked hard to follow their movements; and all those glorious clues were trapped within these coded pages.

After what felt like an Age of work, Arikan sat back, rubbed the sore muscles in his neck, and frowned. Perhaps the Asha’man, whose bizarre talent saw him break the ward on the Tower vault, could be used to break the code. The question filtered through his mind when the very man in question arrived. Nythadri appeared almost simultaneously. Their mutual states of undress was cloyingly amusing, and Arikan smirked as he climbed to his feet.

The last thing in the world he expected was a fist. The strike reeled him, though he caught his balance rather gracefully in the aftermath. He expertly schooled his expression from acknowledging the pain. If hundreds of years of life as a Dreadlord didn’t teach him control, then the Hand’s torture honed his mastery of the craft.

He smiled through the pain to acknowledge the personal nature of Jai’s attack. “She told you who I am.” His gaze shifted to Nythadri momentarily before sizing up the Asha’man’s posture to determine whether or not he was done.

Lord General Arikan never tolerated so much as a glare of insubordination, let alone allowing someone to physically (attempt to) strike him. A trail of bloody tongues, appendages, and worse made for the spoils of such punishment; other times he simply slit a throat than deal with the effort of extorting loyalty. It really depended on the circumstances (and his mood).

Yet here he found himself, face aching, and looming over two paths. He was already weakened from channeling earlier, although the items in his pocket might compensate, but to retaliate would guarantee losing the Aes Sedai’s alliance, and that likely included Talin’s continued healing. Arikan was never one to enter a fight he wasn’t sure to win, and in the end, rational logic won the day, but Jai had to know who was in charge here.

Jai was taller and (at this time) more physically imposing than Arikan, but only one of them knew sound Great Lord of the Dark’s voice, knew the torment of his essence probing their mind. Arikan stood up to him as though he was ten times the more imposing, and stared into the Asha’man’s eyes with such intensity, he was witness to the Asha’man’s regret. 

What happened then was unspoken, but they both knew who was tolerating whom when Arikan turned aside. He wiped the blood away from his lips with a rag, no point spoiling his only decent shirt, and attempted for a second time to hand Jai the book.

“Can you read this code or not?” He spoke through clenched teeth. The hint that if he could not, Jai’s value was going to be greatly diminished was apparent.

Jai was slow to take the book, but it only took a glance. “Given that I wrote it, you could say that I can.”

As his brows lifted in recognition, the movement wafted a fresh wave of tenderness, but he was careful to control it.

“You wrote this code?” He tapped the book again, disbelieving.

Jai snatched the book away, peered at the script that Arikan found utterly indecipherable, and his mouth moved in speaking to himself. Arikan could not quite make out what he was muttering. He watched, cautious and careful, until Jai began to read aloud.

”Darkfriends known to enter the third basement of the fourth fort in the fiftieth mile to the west of ‘Aesdaishar’ where within is found a plaque that reads ‘vakar al’vasen’. All investigators dead. Unknown significance.”

He did not suspect Jai to be lying. Honesty was written all over his pathetic face. “What does it mean?”

Jai returned the book to him, shrugging. “I said I could read it not understand it.”

Arikan fixed him with a flat stare before attempting to work it out for himself. The Old Tongue stood out, but Arikan was never more than passingly proficient at the basic words. He would need a trip to one of the great libraries to translate it. Other than the Old Tongue, it was clear that buried in the language lay the location of this mysterious plaque in a fort basement. That Darkfriends visited it and were able to resist attempts from Black Tower spies to decipher the significance told him it was prized by the Shadow, and where the Shadow’s prizes lay, Chosen were not often far to be found.

Arikan finally turned to the Aes Sedai. “You have anything better to add?”

It was a helpless moment, and not one she was ever keen to relive as the seconds stretched by in fraught silence. But Arikan kept chains on his temper, and her intuition tested true. This time at least. She did not think those chains would hold forever – and all the more reason to give him a better target for his claws, before impatience and frustration put too great a strain on the logic keeping them alive.

When Jai took the book she felt a little steadier in her estimations. Then, when he flippantly admitted to creating the code, she let her arms drift free, and moved to take a seat in the armchair she’d occupied that morning. Where reluctance to accept her situation had held her rigid then, Nythadri had not the strength or inclination for self-imposed discomfort now. The room was dreary enough as it was in the dim light. She crossed her legs, and let her chin sink onto a fist. Besides the still and attentive nature of her expression, there was no concession in her posture to formality. Mostly, it was Arikan she studied as she listened.

Jai knew the skill for a curse, but it didn’t stop the small pulse of pride she felt inside, warm as the currents of the Aryth. Not for the curse, but for the man who survived it. Arikan dismissed everyone around him with the blanket designation of incompetence, and consistently found disbelief even when he did discover talent. She didn’t care for the manner in which he spoke to Jai then, though she did not think it bothered Jai himself. Or not for the same reasons.

As Arikan frowned and reclaimed the pocketbook, intent on deciphering its secrets, Nythadri glanced at him. Of all the poor decisions he could have made marching in here, she regretted this one least, though he must have felt the spike of her alarm as much as he felt the flood of her relief now this first storm settled and they were both unscathed. She knew he’d made a calculation, and there was no reprimand for the risk he chose to take. Rather, it was a touchstone look.

For the rest, she could not say if there was a connection between Aesdaishar and the plaque’s instruction (that took longer to think on, but she presumed it must be such), or if such a landmark was simply the most reliable method of imparting directions to it in the first place. Presumably the forts had names of their own with which to distinguish them. Jai might know better; he had been to Kandor, and possibly those very forts along the blightborder. But a puzzle was easier than dwelling on Compulsion and betrayal and all the other ruin the night had begat, and she fell into it with the focus of respite.

“I have plenty better to add,” she said, when this time Arikan’s tone pierced in her direction. He riled right under her skin, and if she could not exactly put her finger on why it bothered her so much, she knew it was the same kind of visceral reaction she’d had to Imaad Suaya. Her pale eyes were stubborn, not from hostility but irritation at being an afterthought. “But I presume you mean about that passage.”

Translation wasn’t much of a puzzle. Nythadri was a daughter of nobility. And while not scholarly in any traditional sense, she’d spent far more years than she actually needed to climb the Tower’s rungs. Even her tutors back in Caemlyn had agreed she was a frustrating student, but if she resisted the easy mould, she had never been an idle person when she broke away to indulge her own distractions. Only a fool wouldn’t make use of the sorts of resources the White Tower laid bare. Though as it happened both translations did not come from any deep knowledge of the dead language so much as time spent among the women in the Green halls.

It was meaning she paused to give thought, before she spoke again.

“Chandar, perhaps? Assuming north. Though I don’t see how that helps us. I suppose there might be a better indication of how to interpret the instruction on the plaque itself.” She spoke the musings with genuine thoughtfulness, as if among equals, and not because Arikan had all but mannerlessly snapped his fingers under her nose. If those sent by the Black Tower to investigate were dead, he was the best placed of them to circumvent whatever protections thwarted all those who came before. But a suggestion of orders would be a folly to add to the bloody lip, and she did not think Arikan needed such direction anyway.

She almost shrugged. It wasn’t arrogance that narrowed her eyes instead, but realisation in the moment that followed. The emotion smoothed itself quickly, perhaps surprisingly not into smugness, though she was probably entitled. When she spoke next, it was not with impatience, but a desire to understand exactly what he was asking. “You must have understood that it references Chachin at least. The throne of the clouds, the palace that tops a mountain? The old tongue is an idiom, I think. Move as an arrow. Straight as the arrow. Something like that. The arrow part I am certain of.” Nardes vasen’cierto ain. Thought is the arrow of time. It was part of the inscription said to be on the Ashandarei.

Chandar.

The name held no significance for him. He was not aware of anything interesting happening in Kandor beyond the creep of the Blight.

He turned away, face still throbbing, and returned to his seat, his mood severely soured. “Here is the plan. You’re going to read every page in this book to me, and pray to your blessed Light that we find more leads.”

Jai fixed him with a blank stare, and after a few moments, turned to the front and leafed through the pages. Eventually, he sat down himself, balancing it on knee. Arikan’s watchful eye monitored his mutterings, once in a while sending it to Nythadri during the wait.

After a few pages, Jai spoke. “So far it’s pretty old or outright mundane; about the vaults or wards, men of the Tower suspected of being Darkfriends….The first few pages are from the beginning of his rule…” but then he suddenly fell silent.

He glanced at Nythadri with such a look, Arikan frowned.  “What?” He didn’t reply.  “Darkness! Speak!”

Jai cleared his throat. “The Lord Dragon and M’Hael sent Daryen into Bandar Eban to kill Gaemori. That’s why he attacked the city in stealth. It was an assassination.” He met Arikan’s eye, “and he succeeded.”

Arikan didn’t react. Like many of the Chosen, he had no word of Gaemori for many years, and he never had any reason to listen for it. Jai spoke to Nythadri while Arikan considered the meaning.

“Displacing the Seanchan was a cover. When I arrived, Daryen was already king, and she was long dead.”

Arikan interrupted.  “There are only two Chosen capable of inflicting the complexity of compulsion upon you as we witnessed. She is certainly one of them, and she was based in Bandar Eban. As are you.”

He was not ready to directly confront the Chosen, but this was a lead they could not ignore.  “Mere hours ago, Gaemori or Raviel was in Bandar Eban, and I have a feeling that Gaemori is not as dead as your M’Hael was led to believe.”

“Tomorrow I go to Bandar Eban. But not until after you bring me Elsae. She is key. Now, if you both require rest, get it, then get her.”

The orders issued prickled her with irritation, and it galled that Jai had little choice but to comply. Nothing in Nythadri’s demeanour changed, but it glowered like a furnace deep inside. Arikan didn’t even have the grace to consider his own inadequacies, let alone acknowledge that this was help freely given. They were not thralls, and he did not hold the upper hand in any negotiation. It was going to be a problem.

Still, she held her tongue. She’d survived a whole bloody Tower of women with much the same supercilious superiority; she could certainly handle this. Right now her efforts were better used on untangling their situation, not on the difficulties of frustrating and uncomfortable allies. So she turned her attention to what Jai revealed from the notebook, filtering out Arikan’s barking impatience, and as she fit it with the things she already knew or suspected, something clicked into startling place. Stillness was her truest reaction, though she supposed Jai would be privy to the stirrings of epiphany beneath it now.

Trista. Not a controversial gift to sew peace between two disparate nations. A light-blasted spy behind enemy lines?

Light damn Daryen and his scheming, but most of all his secrecy. And Kaydrienne must have known? It certainly seemed so. Tightness squeezed her chest so hard she thought her heart might stop from the pressure. She began to shake her head about the Forsaken being dead, to urge Jai to think through what he knew, but Arikan interrupted with information that was actually useful. Gaemori or Raviel, and no real question as to which one of the two it was, given the target. Not dead, but fled. No wonder Arad Doman had been permitted to install an Asha’man king; he was the literal guardian at the gate.

Her thoughts were racing, but a sick feeling rose too – the unasked question she’d been refusing to confront since she’d found Jai on White Tower grounds. In the spark and ignition of understanding was the shadowy shape of an answer she did not want to see; a fear she would certainly not admit to in front of the dreadlord. The detail of the Compulsion had been too personal, too knowing, and not just of Jai. She stood, already thinking ahead; beyond that churning knot of worry and betrayal, though it would not let her go.

But something paused her amidst the tumult of silent thought and calculated plans. Arikan’s monologue had ended with an easy dismissal, and if his treatment irritated her still, it was an insult worth being free of his company. Arikan only had to be enabled, they did not need to work closely. Yet Nythadri rarely took the easy path.

He wasn’t toothless, and she did not make the mistake of thinking so. But neither had he looked at her in the way another man might have in such a state of undress, despite all his previous threats about forcing women to his bidding. It wasn’t remotely wise to press on the wound of his apparent self-schism; of what he had been, and what he might be now. But he was letting his past pollute their chances of success, and that was less tolerable than using him in the first place. Do not betray me. It was the last thing he said before he entered her Gate into the Black Tower basement. She thought nothing of it at the time. But that had been before she knew of the torture and Talin’s suspicions.

“Had you not been so busy playing mind games with the wine, I could have already told you the Compulsion happened in Bandar Eban,” she said. Her voice was measured, her gaze pale as cut glass, and just as sharp. “I know you will not allow yourself to trust me. But if you cannot place any trust in my competency at least, we will remain a permanent step behind in this hunt. And I won’t allow you to fail because of your light-damn pride.

“Tonight the Shadow’s plan was executed, so far as they know, with only one unexpected hitch – that being your miraculous rise from the grave – and by sunrise the Towers will be in chaos exactly as intended. Gaemori has no reason to leave Arad Doman now, not least if she has spent these last years hidden amongst the Seanchan biding her time. You are aware of the ceremony that took place in the city today? Its King is not ignorant of the threat, and while he continues to fight for the Light, we know where she will be, and what she wants.”

She didn’t look at Jai, though she was very aware of him then.

“It's the pieces we know nothing about that concern me. The Forsaken will all soon know you are alive. Can you be certain none will seek you out offering alliance? Better for us to learn more about the layout of the board before you begin playing in earnest against them.” She said no more on it, but the fact Arikan chose to keep Talin so close naturally made her wonder, now, if he really was at his full strength – for all his apparent resolve to risk seeking more leads in Arad Doman alone. She wouldn’t stop him if it came to it, and she did not expect him to take kindly to the counsel either, but she was not so pliable an ally as her Yellow Sister. She glanced at the cold hearth, and at candles so dim it was any wonder Jai had been able to decipher his own hand from the tiny notebook. Presumably Arikan had been hunched over that desk these past hours. She understood the drive, but he was no use to them exhausted.

“In the meantime, rest is good advice, and I will take it.“

As should he.

What was he thinking? Who leaves the bed of a beautiful woman to punch a dreadlord in the face? Was he bored? Was he crazy? (Don’t answer that.) It just went to prove that he was a sadist. Because here he was highly uncomfortable with the fact that Nythadri and Arikan were clearly talking about him doing horrible things he had zero memory of doing when he could be snuggled up against a naked girl. 

It shuddered a chill down his spine once more, and to think that the hand of Gaemori or Raviel had done the deed only made him mildly freak out. He scrubbed his hair repeatedly each time that Nythadri caught his eye, and he found he could practically hear her speak with a simple look combined with the tension flowing through the bond. He was more than happy to leave the Dreadlord with his bloody book, especially if rest was the destination, rest or no rest.

Yet Nythadri couldn’t leave without telling Arikan exactly what she thought of him. Jai was standing by then and was beaming with a smile for her. It wasn’t a punch in the face, but it was just as satisfying. Especially when the dreadlord simply cut a curt nod and refocused his attention back to the items on the desk. Jai’s eyes narrowed upon glimpsing a drawing stuffed between the papers, which seemed out of place unless Arikan doodled in his spare time, but whatever it was that occupied him, Jai was happy to leave him to it.

He thought he might have to peel Nythadri’s claws out of Arikan’s back before they escaped to the hall. Either way, his hand was on her shoulder as they walked, though he did not need to feel the tension in her muscles to know she was pissed. It was there for comfort.

Yet true to Nythadri, when she spoke, she sounded as if nothing at all was amiss. It reminded him of the night they met when after swimming in the sea, she returned to the ball without a single hair displaced.

“Do you want to go to Bandar Eban and check on Daryen?” She asked.

He squeezed her shoulder just enough to signal her to pause. “I’m sure he’s fine. He’s the most powerful channeler I know and commands an actual army. Yes, the city is crawling with Seanchan, but I’m sure I’d know if something was wrong. Besides, it sounds like this other girl is in trouble? Elsae, yes? Is that the same girl that helped me find you, um, the night that… it snowed?” He stammered over how to say it, not wanting to remember it was the last time he saw Andreu alive. When they got into a fist fight.

“I’m not keen on going back to Tar Valon anytime soon, but it’s your call, Nythadri. I trust you.”

Nythadri was still bristling from the reaction when the door closed behind them, though it was dutifully contained behind a tight expression. She didn’t have time to indulge the irritation, so it only simmerred deeply, ignored but for the acknowledging touch of Jai’s hand on her shoulder. There was much still to consider before she’d truly rest, though she knew they both needed it. Dawn would come only too quickly.

“Do you want to go to Bandar Eban and check on Daryen?”

He lightly squeezed his grip, and she paused her stride to meet his gaze. Jai’s strength lightened the load of exhaustion, and she knew she could physically do it. What she was not sure was what they might find. Nothing touched her still expression, but there was no shield to guard pale eyes. It was not a question to placate, but one asked honestly, for she would never willingly put him in the position of having to choose.

The answer he gave she took at face value, though she was not quite so confident in his optimism. Daryen was far from defenceless, and had apparently spearheaded the front against one of the Forsaken to take Arad Doman in the first place. But a M’hael had fallen tonight, right in the seat of his own power, and an Amyrlin would likely fall right behind. No one was safe from the Shadow’s machinations. But the plain truth was they could not be everywhere at once, and she had suspicion enough to trust Jai’s judgement. Daryen told her where to find him, after all, and she could not think of another way Jai would know how to share his strength through the bond. “If that changes we will go. You will not need to explain it to me. We will just go.”

The promise was made without frills, as such things usually were with Nythadri.

She wanted to urge him on, away from shadowy corridors where they might at least reset the wards around their room. The fort was quite silent at this hour, but it was still unfamiliar, and she was not certain she’d ever shake the new cracks in her foundations. For now it made her wary of their surroundings. But the stumble over his words paused her. Amidst duty and responsibilities neither of them might have asked for was a very human pain. She was not sure Jai knew how to do anything but bury it, and certainly Nythadri had done similar all those years ago after Tash’s murder. She had never confided the depths of her grief in Farune. He had never even known she was nobility until the day she left for the Tower.

Talk of trust constricted a surprisingly sharp pain in her chest. She stood close, hands brushing his waist. If she did not want to linger, it was clearly not for fear of their compromising position; one of intimacy rather than seduction, despite their state of undress. “I would not make you come with me, except I would neither leave you behind,” she said. It was not what he was asking, and she did not mistake it for hesitation. Even if their path now did take them straight to the heart of Shayol Ghul, he would not pause before following her; she knew it for the same reason the reverse was true, bond or no bond. “We do not have to see them unless you choose to.”

Her eyes were soft, her voice softer, but she was not otherwise saccharine in her comfort. Neither did she expect him to acknowledge it, and perhaps tonight was not the right time to traverse those fragilities anyway. His family had always been a wound, compounded now with grief and guilt, though it went without saying that if he spoke she would listen. The world might actually fall down about their ears, and she would still find them shelter enough for that, no matter what it cost her. For now though she only slipped her arm inside his, and continued their stride. Distraction focused pain, a temporary salve, but that much she knew.

“The same,” she said, meaning Elsae’s identity.

“She’s not in trouble – not unless you count the interest of a dreadlord, at least. He says she is not a darkfriend, but he also thought she was Aes Sedai. Tonight is the first time he has described her as a key, but I couldn’t guess what that means. She is part of the bargain he made with Talin. I know little more than that, but I intend to give her the choice before I bring her here. I asked Eleanore to escort her from the Tower tonight. She has declared no ajah, and at least the Greens were already funnelling their aspirants out to safety, so it’s unlikely anyone will have noted her absence. They should both be safe.”