03-29-2020, 01:36 AM
(This post was last modified: 05-27-2020, 09:06 PM by Natalie Grey.)
The missives were penned with more haste than she would have liked, but she’d had all night to organise exactly what she wished to say -- and to whom. The barbs of loyalty hooking her skin all pulled in different directions, and she fought for the best balance she could without bloodying herself raw in the process. The inevitable weight of trust betrayed did not sit easy, but she thought Talin would anticipate it. The note home was short and vague, asking for trust and time. The second she did not even know would reach its intended, but he was the only one she could think to reach out to. Araya was removed from the thick of Tower politics, and they had some brief acquaintance. Hana did not profess to know where in the world he was when she last visited his Tar Valoni home, but Nythadri knew enough of the woman, and her past, to trust she would help how she could.
Neither task gladdened her, and she blamed Talin for both. But she did not dwell on it either.
The Yellow gave her a long look when they reunited back on the road, but said nothing. By her own design Nythadri had little to tell that might betray Talin’s confidences, a conceit she’d known she’d need to give in exchange for the freedom to write anything at all, or to grasp the opportunity to offer Elly the escape she deserved. Talin knew that too, yet here they were; a mask of trust between them, balanced on the sword edge of secrets the other woman promised would make it all worthwhile. Light, what a foolish game.
“We’re going to be late, Talin.” Kaori balanced his horse loosely between his knees while the black and white frisked. In the morning's revealing light he was younger than she had supposed.
Late for what?
A twist of Talin’s lips offered no ready explanation, and Nythadri was too proud to press upon the wound of her continued ignorance, lest the woman twist the knife a little. She knew Talin well enough to guess she would enjoy the cruelty even as she needed Nythadri’s help. Her back stiffened preemptively atop her perch on Dove’s back, the folds of her cloak draped wide over the horse’s rear. Dark hair was braided around her crown, an inky frame for those winter-pale eyes, which spared no warmth for a supposed friend. Perhaps answers would warm the foundations of their friendship when they came, but Talin made little effort towards reassurances in the meantime. Elly hovered alongside, effortless in the saddle, and with a flicker of her eyes the Yellow’s attention broke to acknowledge Kaori’s words.
They rode hard that day; like the Dark One himself nipped their heels with zealous promise. What imaginary sands counted down the moments of such haste rattled around her skull at their sharp pace, and it left little opportunity for thought. She was not an accomplished rider, which Talin would no doubt have accounted for. Another tear in the neat net of the Aes Sedai’s plans. Nythadri trusted her sister’s efficiency, if little else right now, but it did not bode well to witness the loose threads flap free so quickly. She could not well afford the distraction of pain. It wore her down quickly, the relentless riding.
By the time they finally slowed the sun was a bloody gash in the sky, their horizon darkened by a shadowy crowd of distant trees. Serenity was a chore. She desperately wanted to grit her teeth against the pain, or perhaps grimace at the waves of soft amusement from the woman beside her. The last time she had spent so much time in the saddle had been Bandar Eban some months before, but at a less frantic pace and with immeasurably preferable company. A poor time to remember the heat of the ocean’s embrace to sore muscles, but light she ached right now, and likely not even a hot drawn bath awaited.
It was then she noticed a man in crisp black crested the hill ahead. For a moment everything in her tensed to attention, enough for Elly to draw her mount closer in brief confusion. Nythadri felt it spiral a brief distraction, like a self-repeating echo, that sense of getting used to one another. When next she looked she could not fathom between relief and disappointment for what she saw. The uniform was familiar, glinting silver at the throat, and he was tall and dark haired. But there the resemblance ended. It was not Jai.
“Do you know him?” Elly queried softly. Nythadri did not turn her head. By now her gaze narrowed on the question of why.
“No.”
Talin did not haunt Black Tower grounds. Nythadri would know. But she approached expectantly, Kaori a near shadow, and the stranger turned towards their slow trot. He was alone, without even a sign of a horse nearby. Broad arms folded against his chest, and dark eyes ran into the distance, accounting for Nythadri and her companion, but he did not seem surprised even by their additional number. “I did no think you were coming, Aes Sedai,” she heard him call.
Leather creaked as Elly took the opportunity to shift in her saddle. Dark hair fell sharply around her jaw, and the dying light picked out the lattice of scars like pale crescents on her sundarkened skin. Her eyes pinned in the Warder’s direction, not the Asha’man to whom the Yellow spoke.
“He’s from Shienar, and I don’t expect he should be so far from home. There’s an ugly word for that in the north.”
Nythadri had been trying to read the conversation ahead, and irritation flared for the interruption. It was the second time Elly had jammed the gears of her thoughts with distraction, and though the woman was her apparent protector now, she was no weapon against the nuances Talin wove around them. Knowledge gleaned now might be the difference between survival and not later, when it became necessary to parse truth from misdirection. Yet something of the tone plucked Nythadri’s attention away even so, or perhaps the quiet fervency that accompanied it. It had the tang of warning. She let the words sink in.
“He told you that?”
Elly just gave her a blunt look, brows half raised in consternation at the question, like Nythadri was missing context. And fine, she accepted her elevated experience in the matter. Eleanore was from the Borderlands, and a seasoned warrior besides. Maylis had said as much even if Nythadri had been blind to the way the woman carried herself, which she wasn’t. Still, it wasn’t an accusation that ought to be shared so openly in present company, no matter how softly spoken. There were too many cracks already in their fragile trust to risk the fissure of another. Yet it remained another question to ask Talin later. How she had come upon the man. Who he even was.
“It do be an unusual request,” she heard the Asha’man continue.
Talin still sat astride Mephisto, as blankly composed as ever. “As favours usually are,” she said. “And rarely convenient, either. I do not recall asking you any questions back then.”
The man’s lips pursed, but he only nodded stiffly. Nythadri felt nothing of it, but she witnessed the silver split run jagged through the air, widening into a gateway wide and tall enough to pass them through one at a time. Talin had power enough on her own for that, which presumably meant she lacked knowledge of the destination. Nythadri felt the first pangs of regret for her stubbornness. For walking into this blind when the previous night Talin had offered blunted warnings but the prospect of truth. Blood and Ashes, but that gate might lead them anywhere.
Talin’s gaze met hers expectantly just as Elly leaned close again.
“You’re sure?” she murmured. “Because if you’re not…” It was only the slightest shift, but Nythadri understood the meaning. It would be suicide, she was sure, to attempt reneging now, even if she could be certain about the construction of her own gate. Hardly the best moment to test the theory, and yet something of the earnestness plucked a resonant chord. It wouldn’t even be the first time foolishness sincerely meant had softened her into fondness. Because despite the recklessness (something that really shouldn’t garner her approval) she could feel that Eleanore really meant it.
She was wary of leaning too far from the support of her saddle, but she reached to press a brief hand to the crook of Elly’s arm. It wasn’t quite meant as reassurance, but she was surprised to feel the slight give of tension released. Little changed in the predatory lounge of her demeanour, yet Nythadri understood that she would not act. Nor ask again.
By now Kaori had already disappeared beyond, and Talin’s glass-eyed stare carried the weight of a mountain. Decision made, Nythadri urged her horse on until they were alongside. She looked expressionlessly into what waited, then watched the Yellow proceed. Dove tossed her head and trotted resolutely on. Nythadri threw a brief glance over her shoulder as she passed through, to where the Asha’man still stood, arms folded. Elly was on her heels, grim faced.
The gate winked shut behind them.
Neither task gladdened her, and she blamed Talin for both. But she did not dwell on it either.
The Yellow gave her a long look when they reunited back on the road, but said nothing. By her own design Nythadri had little to tell that might betray Talin’s confidences, a conceit she’d known she’d need to give in exchange for the freedom to write anything at all, or to grasp the opportunity to offer Elly the escape she deserved. Talin knew that too, yet here they were; a mask of trust between them, balanced on the sword edge of secrets the other woman promised would make it all worthwhile. Light, what a foolish game.
“We’re going to be late, Talin.” Kaori balanced his horse loosely between his knees while the black and white frisked. In the morning's revealing light he was younger than she had supposed.
Late for what?
A twist of Talin’s lips offered no ready explanation, and Nythadri was too proud to press upon the wound of her continued ignorance, lest the woman twist the knife a little. She knew Talin well enough to guess she would enjoy the cruelty even as she needed Nythadri’s help. Her back stiffened preemptively atop her perch on Dove’s back, the folds of her cloak draped wide over the horse’s rear. Dark hair was braided around her crown, an inky frame for those winter-pale eyes, which spared no warmth for a supposed friend. Perhaps answers would warm the foundations of their friendship when they came, but Talin made little effort towards reassurances in the meantime. Elly hovered alongside, effortless in the saddle, and with a flicker of her eyes the Yellow’s attention broke to acknowledge Kaori’s words.
They rode hard that day; like the Dark One himself nipped their heels with zealous promise. What imaginary sands counted down the moments of such haste rattled around her skull at their sharp pace, and it left little opportunity for thought. She was not an accomplished rider, which Talin would no doubt have accounted for. Another tear in the neat net of the Aes Sedai’s plans. Nythadri trusted her sister’s efficiency, if little else right now, but it did not bode well to witness the loose threads flap free so quickly. She could not well afford the distraction of pain. It wore her down quickly, the relentless riding.
By the time they finally slowed the sun was a bloody gash in the sky, their horizon darkened by a shadowy crowd of distant trees. Serenity was a chore. She desperately wanted to grit her teeth against the pain, or perhaps grimace at the waves of soft amusement from the woman beside her. The last time she had spent so much time in the saddle had been Bandar Eban some months before, but at a less frantic pace and with immeasurably preferable company. A poor time to remember the heat of the ocean’s embrace to sore muscles, but light she ached right now, and likely not even a hot drawn bath awaited.
It was then she noticed a man in crisp black crested the hill ahead. For a moment everything in her tensed to attention, enough for Elly to draw her mount closer in brief confusion. Nythadri felt it spiral a brief distraction, like a self-repeating echo, that sense of getting used to one another. When next she looked she could not fathom between relief and disappointment for what she saw. The uniform was familiar, glinting silver at the throat, and he was tall and dark haired. But there the resemblance ended. It was not Jai.
“Do you know him?” Elly queried softly. Nythadri did not turn her head. By now her gaze narrowed on the question of why.
“No.”
Talin did not haunt Black Tower grounds. Nythadri would know. But she approached expectantly, Kaori a near shadow, and the stranger turned towards their slow trot. He was alone, without even a sign of a horse nearby. Broad arms folded against his chest, and dark eyes ran into the distance, accounting for Nythadri and her companion, but he did not seem surprised even by their additional number. “I did no think you were coming, Aes Sedai,” she heard him call.
Leather creaked as Elly took the opportunity to shift in her saddle. Dark hair fell sharply around her jaw, and the dying light picked out the lattice of scars like pale crescents on her sundarkened skin. Her eyes pinned in the Warder’s direction, not the Asha’man to whom the Yellow spoke.
“He’s from Shienar, and I don’t expect he should be so far from home. There’s an ugly word for that in the north.”
Nythadri had been trying to read the conversation ahead, and irritation flared for the interruption. It was the second time Elly had jammed the gears of her thoughts with distraction, and though the woman was her apparent protector now, she was no weapon against the nuances Talin wove around them. Knowledge gleaned now might be the difference between survival and not later, when it became necessary to parse truth from misdirection. Yet something of the tone plucked Nythadri’s attention away even so, or perhaps the quiet fervency that accompanied it. It had the tang of warning. She let the words sink in.
“He told you that?”
Elly just gave her a blunt look, brows half raised in consternation at the question, like Nythadri was missing context. And fine, she accepted her elevated experience in the matter. Eleanore was from the Borderlands, and a seasoned warrior besides. Maylis had said as much even if Nythadri had been blind to the way the woman carried herself, which she wasn’t. Still, it wasn’t an accusation that ought to be shared so openly in present company, no matter how softly spoken. There were too many cracks already in their fragile trust to risk the fissure of another. Yet it remained another question to ask Talin later. How she had come upon the man. Who he even was.
“It do be an unusual request,” she heard the Asha’man continue.
Talin still sat astride Mephisto, as blankly composed as ever. “As favours usually are,” she said. “And rarely convenient, either. I do not recall asking you any questions back then.”
The man’s lips pursed, but he only nodded stiffly. Nythadri felt nothing of it, but she witnessed the silver split run jagged through the air, widening into a gateway wide and tall enough to pass them through one at a time. Talin had power enough on her own for that, which presumably meant she lacked knowledge of the destination. Nythadri felt the first pangs of regret for her stubbornness. For walking into this blind when the previous night Talin had offered blunted warnings but the prospect of truth. Blood and Ashes, but that gate might lead them anywhere.
Talin’s gaze met hers expectantly just as Elly leaned close again.
“You’re sure?” she murmured. “Because if you’re not…” It was only the slightest shift, but Nythadri understood the meaning. It would be suicide, she was sure, to attempt reneging now, even if she could be certain about the construction of her own gate. Hardly the best moment to test the theory, and yet something of the earnestness plucked a resonant chord. It wouldn’t even be the first time foolishness sincerely meant had softened her into fondness. Because despite the recklessness (something that really shouldn’t garner her approval) she could feel that Eleanore really meant it.
She was wary of leaning too far from the support of her saddle, but she reached to press a brief hand to the crook of Elly’s arm. It wasn’t quite meant as reassurance, but she was surprised to feel the slight give of tension released. Little changed in the predatory lounge of her demeanour, yet Nythadri understood that she would not act. Nor ask again.
By now Kaori had already disappeared beyond, and Talin’s glass-eyed stare carried the weight of a mountain. Decision made, Nythadri urged her horse on until they were alongside. She looked expressionlessly into what waited, then watched the Yellow proceed. Dove tossed her head and trotted resolutely on. Nythadri threw a brief glance over her shoulder as she passed through, to where the Asha’man still stood, arms folded. Elly was on her heels, grim faced.
The gate winked shut behind them.