10-26-2017, 09:52 PM
Jai spent most of the morning walking. Not that he complained. Nor grumbled about turning down Aharon's offer to stay with him. The bedding would have been decidedly cleaner, the bed long enough for a good stretching out, and the walls thick enough to sleep in quiet. But he was stuck with anonymity for now, which meant the long walk from the commoner areas of Caemlyn to the Inner City.
The entrance to the Palace won a bit of inspection. There were plenty of people in the Queen's Plaza, the oval shaped plaza heralding the entrance. It was flanked by tall, gilded gates. Impressively golden despite the dull, overcast sky. The palace itself lounged atop the highest hill in the city. White Ogier stonework gleamed as remarkably clean here as it did in Tar Valon. Dozens of tall white spires capped by golden domes pierced the low hanging clouds like miniature versions of those in his birth city. Stonework balconies harboring immaculately dressed nobles looked as intricate as lacework. From every pinnacle fluttered the banner of the white lion of Andor on a field of crimson red. Posted guards in red cloaks and brilliant armor studied the crowd. He felt their eyes pass over him as cautiously as they did everyone else. Jai meanwhile attempted to not stand out, but he was clearly foreign. He stood a hand above the locals. His coat brushed his knees rather than the ankles of those around him. He was not the only armed visitor in sight, but the belted on blade drew enough eyes to recognize its distinct curve.
He submitted to mandatory pat down once under palace roof. With declaration of visiting the royal library, the guards took down his fake name and permitted him entrance. Their list of stern rules ringing in his ears. And directions.
It was a tense walk. Passing nobles and servants. Not that Andoran nobility would recognize him, but royal palaces tended to be filled with an annoying number of dignitaries, ambassadors, and advisors. He kept a keen eye for his brothers in black. Took a few detours to avoid ageless faced women flanked by graceful warders. Anyone dressed in Domani garb were fiercely put out of sight. Asha'man Kojima was suppose to be in Arad Doman after all. He'd pay for dereliction of duty soon enough. No need to chase down punishment yet.
There was no avoiding the ageless face among the librarians guarding the entrance to the library itself. She was seated at a desk alone lost in translating a copy of whatever text lay open before her. Ink darkened her fingertips and smudged prints across a collar she must have adjusted at one point in the morning. Brown Ajah, certainly. A week ago and he'd feel free and clear, but Browns were not the slumbering beast he always thought. Thanks to Fate's education. Jai hoped his quiet inquiry for directions to the Archives Depository would go unnoticed, but his lack of Andoran accent inevitably drew her eye upward. He nodded politely, but was ready to follow his guide out of sight. He didn't recognize her, but that was not to say the opposite would hold true. A few minutes without being followed and he started to relax.
The Archivist was a dull, stooped old man in an ankle-long robe and velvet cap. Frustration quickly built up as Jai constantly repeated every request for those old ears, but guilt inevitably set in as his judgements proved too hasty. The old man immediately steered him through the homogenous shelves of record boxes. To Jai's eye they seemed indistinguishable from every other aisle, but soon enough he was pulling boxes containing records of Crown Acquisitions, bankruptcies, and related House mergers from the last few years.
The old man left him among excessive oaths for death to any man who damaged these precious documents. In complete seriousness, Jai proclaimed full understanding that Archives were unique, uncopied documents that he would protect with his life. The oath seemed to satisfy the suspicion hovering across the Archivist's glare. He sat down to work at a large table. It was not exactly the most exciting venture. Nor the most social one. Nobody but the aging archivist ventured into this dusty wing of boring antiquity.
The Crown acquired a surprising quantity of estates in the last few years. Land disputes that carried on too long were absolved by finding favor in neither party, for instance. Jai glazed across most of the names he found. Half way through the stack of records he finally noticed the name Mishael Vanditera in tiny print. With that bit of encouragement under his belt, he poured a bit more carefully. The sword belt went propped up on the chair next to him. The coat came off next. Pushed up the sleeves of his shirt last. Might as well get comfortable.
The documents outlined a boring list of surrendered assets. Including location and quality of acreage under their domain. Valuable heirlooms still in their name at the time of bankruptcy. The amount of coinage under various accounts or tied up with economical goods. The Crown's redistribution back to the House that absorbed Vanditera after the mess was sorted out. It was all there, except the details of their bankrupcy. For that, Jai shifted through yet another box of records. Attempted collections of debt were outlined. Numerous lenders jumped out in Jai's recognition. Institutions similar to his family's in Tar Valon, which unfortunately, sometimes had to deal with collecting collateral rather than repayment. It was always a messy business. The official declaration to the throne by the Vanditera's last and largest debtor was in the box. The Queen's signature adorned the bottom, but it was the lender's and borrower's identity alongside that drew a lengthy study.
Mishael's signature was severely slanted. The points of ink blotted at the start and end like it'd been scrawled out in angst. A pair of wings around a full moon was crested into the parchment. Matching signet pressed into wax was the final authenticity. The Head of Vanditera's House; Nythadri's father. The following signature belonged to His Grace, Lord Matias Winthel, Head of House Winthel. It was in grand, angular script and set by his crest. A triangular pine tree perching a nesting eagle was his crest. His was one of the names Aharon brought up. House Winthel monopolized the trade of textiles for olives with the south, but the bulk of his fortunate came from "investing" in high risk pursuits others would not touch. High risk, high reward. Sounds of shuffling settled on his periphery but waved it away. The Archivist likely back to check on his precious documents. Jai grit his teeth without looking up, carefully searching the remaining box for legal evidence of bankruptcy.
The Crown's mediators would require proof of House Vanditera's inability to repay their debts. Likely overseen by an Aes Sedai. Jai made a mental note to keep an eye out for them. Just to avoid any entanglements in the future. Not that he intended to be running into Aes Sedai any time soon, but intentions were not exactly reality.
He stooped over pages and pages of accounts submitted into evidence to make sense of it all. It was obvious the House steadily lost equity the last ten years or so, but something about the data left a bitter taste in his mouth. The margins of variability were too tight to reflect the realism of authentic markets. Which meant putting ink to paper and reworking the balance sheets from scratch himself. Luckily, he had a travel quill and ink ready to go.
The stiff, straight posture of earlier deteriorated as he slumped over the reworked pages of data. His mind swirled with numbers, equations and algorithms. His forecast equations never reflected the reality of what happened to their declining accounts. Even accounting for market fluctuations. It left a suspicious aftertaste in his throat. The Archivist came by again at one point, but Jai never so much as broke concentration to wave him away. His hand hurt. Fingers were likely curled down from gripping the quill pen too furiously. After the second full jar of ink, he only realized he'd channeled a third over after it was done. And checked for witnesses with a self imposed curse on his lips when he realized what he did. Eventually the Archives were lost amid a sea of his own scribbled out notes. A librarian showed up about that time, directing his attention to the approach of the Royal Library's closing hour. The pile directly under his burnt-out eyes investigated skewness of data, but he could not stop now. Just a few more minutes.
Every point of data for every quarter's accounts for the last ten years had their own forecast, their own contingency for fluctuation, and their own evidence of declining assets. They trended sharply into the negative, but on a negative skew. His writing wrist kept moving though as he went back to the original summary documents to de-calculate the skewness recorded therein. It was a perfect curve. Symmetrical on every point he had time to work. It was the symmetry that gave it away. Real world trends were never perfect. The only perfect curve was a fake one. Fraud. It was fraud on a scale as he'd never seen. And the bloody light forsaken bastard that fixed the numbers used Jai's own bloody equation to falsify it! “Skewness of median,” Jai called it when he wrote it at 14 years old. Down to the constant Jai calculated one day when he was playing with forecast statistics. When he was of the age where playing was the primary goal of every day. Except, that day, he'd been under house arrest for what was a minor infarction with an escaped chicken. He ended up with the constant he was staring at in shock right now. Nobody outside their family knew of it. That constant was proprietary. It was how the Kojima’s forecasts were always so correct. Nobody knew it except them. Nobody except perhaps one out-maneuvered apprentice.
"Aharon."
As soon as he said it, he saw a flicker of white skin reach for the sword propped against the adjacent chair. Furiously struck to attention, he clamped down hand on the wrist, shoved out of chair, and twisted the attached arm into obedience. As soon as he realized it was a woman's velvet sleeve, he realized those fingertips were darkened with ink as thick as on his own. Recognition of an ageless face came on the next breath. On the exact moment his skin pebbled with fierce chills.
He gasped, let go of her and stumbled backward, tangling himself up in the chair while shoving his sleeves down his arms. A figure moved toward him, but the freed Aes Sedai halted her warder's progress. Jai swung his head from the warder back to her.
"Light I'm so sorry Sister!"
He glanced at the wreck spread across the table. One of the Andoran librarians was behind her, agape with shock over his abrupt reaction. The Archivist at her side seemed perturbed by everyone's youth, and the pile of documents awaiting reorganization thanks to Jai. It'd take as dedicated as mind as his own to make sense of what he'd been doing all day, but empty ink jars and nubs of worn down quills bore evidence of an enormous task. Let them follow the rabbit trail. Did the Sister notice his sleeves? Light! Would she just release the Power! The hairs on the back of his neck hurt under the strain. "A thousand apologies. I was startled that's all."
Her cool study turned from the messy table to the sword she'd attempted to move in order to sit next to him. Light! How long had she been standing there? Had she said something? He searched his memories as he did her face for signs of Brown Ajah strings. He hastily started collecting everything back together.
"The library is closed young man."
"Of course, allow me to dispose of these things and return-"
"Not necessary. We will put it back in good order."
Jai stopped to look up at her. She was pale skinned, not in the manner of seeing little sunlight, but as though born that way. Dignity sealed her ageless face and wide eyes down to a thin lipped patience. She wore modest velvets and simple jewelry. Excluding of course the serpent ring. At long last the chill faded from his skin, leaving Jai with the reminder of White Tower presence everywhere he went. She would go over what had taken his interest. Likely report it back to the Tower as well. Fate would know soon enough. And who knew what interest she would take. Or pass on to someone else. Blood and bloody ashes.
He collected the loose bundle of scribbles, shoved the lot of it carefully in a coat pocket, grabbed the sword and saw himself to the exit.
Dark night skies met him in the Queen's Plaza. As well as fat raindrops. He turned up his collar and hurried on. Guards let him pass without incident. Soon enough the splash of wading through street water was his only company. He passed a few carriages in the Inner City, but most courtly men and women were nestled indoors for the night. The Origan Gate passed by in a blur. The water sopping down his neck finally reminded him of not eating or drinking all day. A small price. Antony Sadiq certainly found him in worse shape before.
There were more people out and about in the New City. Most were huddled in hoods as protection from the rain. Jai glanced longingly at a man with a wide brimmed hat and upturned collar. Shops were closed up. Common rooms sounded full. Filth washed out from alleys between buildings. It was a long trek back to his inn, but he was ready for a hot meal and a flagon of wine once he made it. His inn was near the outermost wall. The fires of refugee and mercenary camps stationed beyond soon came into view. Bloody Aharon Ellis. Used Jai's own discovery to cover tracks of falsfiying the Vanditera's books. They were in decline, of that there was no doubt. But it was Lord Winther who profited from the bankruptcy.
Lost in thought, Jai realized he'd taken the wrong street. He cursed at the delay, turned to double back and saw a figure jump hastily from sight. Blood and bloody ashes! He broke into a run, the sound of splashing not obscured by the heavy rain. The alley his spook turned down was empty. He took it anyway. "Come on! I know you're down there!"
He called through the rain. Took easy steps forward. And loosened the safety on the sword sheathe as he went.
Something clattered then someone ahead took off running. Jai broke into a sprint. Someone followed him all the way from the palace and no way was he going to let the bastard get away. "Blood and bloody-"
loathed to use the Power, but next time he caught sight of the fellow, he lashed out with a whip of Air to trip him up. The guy flew spectacularly face forward to the ground and moments later Jai was on him like a warhead. While he attempted to pin his arms, mud splashed around them and his grip slipped just enough. The spook twisted around and sent a knee into Jai's stomach and two fists into his chest. When Jai reeled back in shock, the guy took his ankles out from under him. He landed hard on his back and lost a few seconds to catch some wind in his lungs again, mostly surprised by the scrappy fighting. The guy scrambled to his feet and took off. Leaving Jai to crawl up on a throaty curse and forced to use the Power once more. This time, Jai kept the guy down with an arm threatening to crush his throat and an iron blanket of Saidin weighing down his legs from more kicks.
No moon. No lamps. No light at all except what filtered from the cross streets. It was not enough to make out more than cursory features. He definitely wasn’t stupid enough to use the Power to light a beacon on their fight. What he could tell was the spook was a common dressed man, much as himself. Hair and beard soaked with rain. A scowl twisted his lips in defiance. Wrinkles set his hard eyes as older than Jai but fit enough to hold his own in the fight. "Aharon send you to trail me?!"
The guy hacked through the weight on his throat. "Answer!"
Jai let his weight sink in a little more then rummaged through the guy's coat pockets. "Let's see if your pockets will talk."
He sent a belt knife soaring out of reach. Leather tubes likely bearing commissions went into Jai's possession as did a purse. There wasn't enough light to read them, but there was was enough to catch a metallic glitter. A charm dangled from a heavy gold chain. Very out of place. "I really doubt this is yours."
Jai broke the clasp and pulled it off to get a better look. It was a solid figure of a hawk clasping a round, blue-gem moon in its talons. "Vanditera..?"
Jai blinked at it. Then looked back down to the man who had it in his possession. Nythadri told him about her brother’s murder, staged to look like a robbery. The killers even took the boy’s signet ring. "Tashir Vanditera?"
He dropped it on the ground, picked up the guy's collar, and whipped his head into the ground. "Answer me!"
The list of seized assets flew through his mind. Every member of the House turned over similar sigils. Some set with jewels, others on rings. Everyone’s was accounted for except Tashir Vanditera's golden hawk. A group of men sent by Matias Winther sent a strong message they would be collecting on the debt. Their message carried too heavy a hand, though. And Tashir ended up dead in the street. Nythadri helpless to defend him. The City Watch apprehended most of them. "You were one of them weren't you?! Still working for Winther?! Answer me you disgusting shell of a man!"
He could see Nythadri's eyes piercing with their loss and pain as sure as if she'd been struck by conventional means. Ghosts she did not deserve to harbor.
Jai stopped. His fist was on fire. Coming to sick realization why the guy wasn't answering. "Blood and ashes!"
He crawled off the body and dissolved the weave that'd helped hold him down. He shook his hand off, stood up, and stared into space. Moments later a line of unnatural light illuminated the alley. It split in two and the blackest of black holes made a threshold next to the body. One nudge and one of Tashir's killers would fall forever. Jai put a boot on the guy's hip. Nobody would ever find the body. He'd never be caught. The low life would not be missed.
He didn't get the chance to decide. He was hit from the side by a new assailant. The gate shut itself off in the assault. Saidin busted from his grasp. The hilt of his sword jammed into his side and this time Jai was the one pinned down. Rage fueled him fresh when he recognized the man in the wide brimmed hat from earlier. The same bloody hat he wished he had. He diverted a coming blow with one arm and sent a knee into the man's side. The guy reeled back as Jai had before, but instead of running, Jai threw a rock from the mountain of Saidin hurling in his ears. The guy grunted as he went down, but this time Jai didn't follow.
He panted. He was acutely aware of every blow he'd taken. Of which there were plenty. He had two guys on his hands he had no idea what to do with. The one still conscious knew he could channel. Grunting to kneel down, he grabbed Tashir's necklace. Made sure nobody else was going to crash this party. Rearranged himself, then hauled the newcomer to his feet.
"Let's go see Lord Winther."
”And why would I be that stupid?"
The guy coughed as a noose of Air encircled the guy's throat. Snug as skin.
"Because you don't want your throat crushed in. Now walk."
It was like walking a dog on a training leash.
The entrance to the Palace won a bit of inspection. There were plenty of people in the Queen's Plaza, the oval shaped plaza heralding the entrance. It was flanked by tall, gilded gates. Impressively golden despite the dull, overcast sky. The palace itself lounged atop the highest hill in the city. White Ogier stonework gleamed as remarkably clean here as it did in Tar Valon. Dozens of tall white spires capped by golden domes pierced the low hanging clouds like miniature versions of those in his birth city. Stonework balconies harboring immaculately dressed nobles looked as intricate as lacework. From every pinnacle fluttered the banner of the white lion of Andor on a field of crimson red. Posted guards in red cloaks and brilliant armor studied the crowd. He felt their eyes pass over him as cautiously as they did everyone else. Jai meanwhile attempted to not stand out, but he was clearly foreign. He stood a hand above the locals. His coat brushed his knees rather than the ankles of those around him. He was not the only armed visitor in sight, but the belted on blade drew enough eyes to recognize its distinct curve.
He submitted to mandatory pat down once under palace roof. With declaration of visiting the royal library, the guards took down his fake name and permitted him entrance. Their list of stern rules ringing in his ears. And directions.
It was a tense walk. Passing nobles and servants. Not that Andoran nobility would recognize him, but royal palaces tended to be filled with an annoying number of dignitaries, ambassadors, and advisors. He kept a keen eye for his brothers in black. Took a few detours to avoid ageless faced women flanked by graceful warders. Anyone dressed in Domani garb were fiercely put out of sight. Asha'man Kojima was suppose to be in Arad Doman after all. He'd pay for dereliction of duty soon enough. No need to chase down punishment yet.
There was no avoiding the ageless face among the librarians guarding the entrance to the library itself. She was seated at a desk alone lost in translating a copy of whatever text lay open before her. Ink darkened her fingertips and smudged prints across a collar she must have adjusted at one point in the morning. Brown Ajah, certainly. A week ago and he'd feel free and clear, but Browns were not the slumbering beast he always thought. Thanks to Fate's education. Jai hoped his quiet inquiry for directions to the Archives Depository would go unnoticed, but his lack of Andoran accent inevitably drew her eye upward. He nodded politely, but was ready to follow his guide out of sight. He didn't recognize her, but that was not to say the opposite would hold true. A few minutes without being followed and he started to relax.
The Archivist was a dull, stooped old man in an ankle-long robe and velvet cap. Frustration quickly built up as Jai constantly repeated every request for those old ears, but guilt inevitably set in as his judgements proved too hasty. The old man immediately steered him through the homogenous shelves of record boxes. To Jai's eye they seemed indistinguishable from every other aisle, but soon enough he was pulling boxes containing records of Crown Acquisitions, bankruptcies, and related House mergers from the last few years.
The old man left him among excessive oaths for death to any man who damaged these precious documents. In complete seriousness, Jai proclaimed full understanding that Archives were unique, uncopied documents that he would protect with his life. The oath seemed to satisfy the suspicion hovering across the Archivist's glare. He sat down to work at a large table. It was not exactly the most exciting venture. Nor the most social one. Nobody but the aging archivist ventured into this dusty wing of boring antiquity.
The Crown acquired a surprising quantity of estates in the last few years. Land disputes that carried on too long were absolved by finding favor in neither party, for instance. Jai glazed across most of the names he found. Half way through the stack of records he finally noticed the name Mishael Vanditera in tiny print. With that bit of encouragement under his belt, he poured a bit more carefully. The sword belt went propped up on the chair next to him. The coat came off next. Pushed up the sleeves of his shirt last. Might as well get comfortable.
The documents outlined a boring list of surrendered assets. Including location and quality of acreage under their domain. Valuable heirlooms still in their name at the time of bankruptcy. The amount of coinage under various accounts or tied up with economical goods. The Crown's redistribution back to the House that absorbed Vanditera after the mess was sorted out. It was all there, except the details of their bankrupcy. For that, Jai shifted through yet another box of records. Attempted collections of debt were outlined. Numerous lenders jumped out in Jai's recognition. Institutions similar to his family's in Tar Valon, which unfortunately, sometimes had to deal with collecting collateral rather than repayment. It was always a messy business. The official declaration to the throne by the Vanditera's last and largest debtor was in the box. The Queen's signature adorned the bottom, but it was the lender's and borrower's identity alongside that drew a lengthy study.
Mishael's signature was severely slanted. The points of ink blotted at the start and end like it'd been scrawled out in angst. A pair of wings around a full moon was crested into the parchment. Matching signet pressed into wax was the final authenticity. The Head of Vanditera's House; Nythadri's father. The following signature belonged to His Grace, Lord Matias Winthel, Head of House Winthel. It was in grand, angular script and set by his crest. A triangular pine tree perching a nesting eagle was his crest. His was one of the names Aharon brought up. House Winthel monopolized the trade of textiles for olives with the south, but the bulk of his fortunate came from "investing" in high risk pursuits others would not touch. High risk, high reward. Sounds of shuffling settled on his periphery but waved it away. The Archivist likely back to check on his precious documents. Jai grit his teeth without looking up, carefully searching the remaining box for legal evidence of bankruptcy.
The Crown's mediators would require proof of House Vanditera's inability to repay their debts. Likely overseen by an Aes Sedai. Jai made a mental note to keep an eye out for them. Just to avoid any entanglements in the future. Not that he intended to be running into Aes Sedai any time soon, but intentions were not exactly reality.
He stooped over pages and pages of accounts submitted into evidence to make sense of it all. It was obvious the House steadily lost equity the last ten years or so, but something about the data left a bitter taste in his mouth. The margins of variability were too tight to reflect the realism of authentic markets. Which meant putting ink to paper and reworking the balance sheets from scratch himself. Luckily, he had a travel quill and ink ready to go.
The stiff, straight posture of earlier deteriorated as he slumped over the reworked pages of data. His mind swirled with numbers, equations and algorithms. His forecast equations never reflected the reality of what happened to their declining accounts. Even accounting for market fluctuations. It left a suspicious aftertaste in his throat. The Archivist came by again at one point, but Jai never so much as broke concentration to wave him away. His hand hurt. Fingers were likely curled down from gripping the quill pen too furiously. After the second full jar of ink, he only realized he'd channeled a third over after it was done. And checked for witnesses with a self imposed curse on his lips when he realized what he did. Eventually the Archives were lost amid a sea of his own scribbled out notes. A librarian showed up about that time, directing his attention to the approach of the Royal Library's closing hour. The pile directly under his burnt-out eyes investigated skewness of data, but he could not stop now. Just a few more minutes.
Every point of data for every quarter's accounts for the last ten years had their own forecast, their own contingency for fluctuation, and their own evidence of declining assets. They trended sharply into the negative, but on a negative skew. His writing wrist kept moving though as he went back to the original summary documents to de-calculate the skewness recorded therein. It was a perfect curve. Symmetrical on every point he had time to work. It was the symmetry that gave it away. Real world trends were never perfect. The only perfect curve was a fake one. Fraud. It was fraud on a scale as he'd never seen. And the bloody light forsaken bastard that fixed the numbers used Jai's own bloody equation to falsify it! “Skewness of median,” Jai called it when he wrote it at 14 years old. Down to the constant Jai calculated one day when he was playing with forecast statistics. When he was of the age where playing was the primary goal of every day. Except, that day, he'd been under house arrest for what was a minor infarction with an escaped chicken. He ended up with the constant he was staring at in shock right now. Nobody outside their family knew of it. That constant was proprietary. It was how the Kojima’s forecasts were always so correct. Nobody knew it except them. Nobody except perhaps one out-maneuvered apprentice.
"Aharon."
As soon as he said it, he saw a flicker of white skin reach for the sword propped against the adjacent chair. Furiously struck to attention, he clamped down hand on the wrist, shoved out of chair, and twisted the attached arm into obedience. As soon as he realized it was a woman's velvet sleeve, he realized those fingertips were darkened with ink as thick as on his own. Recognition of an ageless face came on the next breath. On the exact moment his skin pebbled with fierce chills.
He gasped, let go of her and stumbled backward, tangling himself up in the chair while shoving his sleeves down his arms. A figure moved toward him, but the freed Aes Sedai halted her warder's progress. Jai swung his head from the warder back to her.
"Light I'm so sorry Sister!"
He glanced at the wreck spread across the table. One of the Andoran librarians was behind her, agape with shock over his abrupt reaction. The Archivist at her side seemed perturbed by everyone's youth, and the pile of documents awaiting reorganization thanks to Jai. It'd take as dedicated as mind as his own to make sense of what he'd been doing all day, but empty ink jars and nubs of worn down quills bore evidence of an enormous task. Let them follow the rabbit trail. Did the Sister notice his sleeves? Light! Would she just release the Power! The hairs on the back of his neck hurt under the strain. "A thousand apologies. I was startled that's all."
Her cool study turned from the messy table to the sword she'd attempted to move in order to sit next to him. Light! How long had she been standing there? Had she said something? He searched his memories as he did her face for signs of Brown Ajah strings. He hastily started collecting everything back together.
"The library is closed young man."
"Of course, allow me to dispose of these things and return-"
"Not necessary. We will put it back in good order."
Jai stopped to look up at her. She was pale skinned, not in the manner of seeing little sunlight, but as though born that way. Dignity sealed her ageless face and wide eyes down to a thin lipped patience. She wore modest velvets and simple jewelry. Excluding of course the serpent ring. At long last the chill faded from his skin, leaving Jai with the reminder of White Tower presence everywhere he went. She would go over what had taken his interest. Likely report it back to the Tower as well. Fate would know soon enough. And who knew what interest she would take. Or pass on to someone else. Blood and bloody ashes.
He collected the loose bundle of scribbles, shoved the lot of it carefully in a coat pocket, grabbed the sword and saw himself to the exit.
Dark night skies met him in the Queen's Plaza. As well as fat raindrops. He turned up his collar and hurried on. Guards let him pass without incident. Soon enough the splash of wading through street water was his only company. He passed a few carriages in the Inner City, but most courtly men and women were nestled indoors for the night. The Origan Gate passed by in a blur. The water sopping down his neck finally reminded him of not eating or drinking all day. A small price. Antony Sadiq certainly found him in worse shape before.
There were more people out and about in the New City. Most were huddled in hoods as protection from the rain. Jai glanced longingly at a man with a wide brimmed hat and upturned collar. Shops were closed up. Common rooms sounded full. Filth washed out from alleys between buildings. It was a long trek back to his inn, but he was ready for a hot meal and a flagon of wine once he made it. His inn was near the outermost wall. The fires of refugee and mercenary camps stationed beyond soon came into view. Bloody Aharon Ellis. Used Jai's own discovery to cover tracks of falsfiying the Vanditera's books. They were in decline, of that there was no doubt. But it was Lord Winther who profited from the bankruptcy.
Lost in thought, Jai realized he'd taken the wrong street. He cursed at the delay, turned to double back and saw a figure jump hastily from sight. Blood and bloody ashes! He broke into a run, the sound of splashing not obscured by the heavy rain. The alley his spook turned down was empty. He took it anyway. "Come on! I know you're down there!"
He called through the rain. Took easy steps forward. And loosened the safety on the sword sheathe as he went.
Something clattered then someone ahead took off running. Jai broke into a sprint. Someone followed him all the way from the palace and no way was he going to let the bastard get away. "Blood and bloody-"
loathed to use the Power, but next time he caught sight of the fellow, he lashed out with a whip of Air to trip him up. The guy flew spectacularly face forward to the ground and moments later Jai was on him like a warhead. While he attempted to pin his arms, mud splashed around them and his grip slipped just enough. The spook twisted around and sent a knee into Jai's stomach and two fists into his chest. When Jai reeled back in shock, the guy took his ankles out from under him. He landed hard on his back and lost a few seconds to catch some wind in his lungs again, mostly surprised by the scrappy fighting. The guy scrambled to his feet and took off. Leaving Jai to crawl up on a throaty curse and forced to use the Power once more. This time, Jai kept the guy down with an arm threatening to crush his throat and an iron blanket of Saidin weighing down his legs from more kicks.
No moon. No lamps. No light at all except what filtered from the cross streets. It was not enough to make out more than cursory features. He definitely wasn’t stupid enough to use the Power to light a beacon on their fight. What he could tell was the spook was a common dressed man, much as himself. Hair and beard soaked with rain. A scowl twisted his lips in defiance. Wrinkles set his hard eyes as older than Jai but fit enough to hold his own in the fight. "Aharon send you to trail me?!"
The guy hacked through the weight on his throat. "Answer!"
Jai let his weight sink in a little more then rummaged through the guy's coat pockets. "Let's see if your pockets will talk."
He sent a belt knife soaring out of reach. Leather tubes likely bearing commissions went into Jai's possession as did a purse. There wasn't enough light to read them, but there was was enough to catch a metallic glitter. A charm dangled from a heavy gold chain. Very out of place. "I really doubt this is yours."
Jai broke the clasp and pulled it off to get a better look. It was a solid figure of a hawk clasping a round, blue-gem moon in its talons. "Vanditera..?"
Jai blinked at it. Then looked back down to the man who had it in his possession. Nythadri told him about her brother’s murder, staged to look like a robbery. The killers even took the boy’s signet ring. "Tashir Vanditera?"
He dropped it on the ground, picked up the guy's collar, and whipped his head into the ground. "Answer me!"
The list of seized assets flew through his mind. Every member of the House turned over similar sigils. Some set with jewels, others on rings. Everyone’s was accounted for except Tashir Vanditera's golden hawk. A group of men sent by Matias Winther sent a strong message they would be collecting on the debt. Their message carried too heavy a hand, though. And Tashir ended up dead in the street. Nythadri helpless to defend him. The City Watch apprehended most of them. "You were one of them weren't you?! Still working for Winther?! Answer me you disgusting shell of a man!"
He could see Nythadri's eyes piercing with their loss and pain as sure as if she'd been struck by conventional means. Ghosts she did not deserve to harbor.
Jai stopped. His fist was on fire. Coming to sick realization why the guy wasn't answering. "Blood and ashes!"
He crawled off the body and dissolved the weave that'd helped hold him down. He shook his hand off, stood up, and stared into space. Moments later a line of unnatural light illuminated the alley. It split in two and the blackest of black holes made a threshold next to the body. One nudge and one of Tashir's killers would fall forever. Jai put a boot on the guy's hip. Nobody would ever find the body. He'd never be caught. The low life would not be missed.
He didn't get the chance to decide. He was hit from the side by a new assailant. The gate shut itself off in the assault. Saidin busted from his grasp. The hilt of his sword jammed into his side and this time Jai was the one pinned down. Rage fueled him fresh when he recognized the man in the wide brimmed hat from earlier. The same bloody hat he wished he had. He diverted a coming blow with one arm and sent a knee into the man's side. The guy reeled back as Jai had before, but instead of running, Jai threw a rock from the mountain of Saidin hurling in his ears. The guy grunted as he went down, but this time Jai didn't follow.
He panted. He was acutely aware of every blow he'd taken. Of which there were plenty. He had two guys on his hands he had no idea what to do with. The one still conscious knew he could channel. Grunting to kneel down, he grabbed Tashir's necklace. Made sure nobody else was going to crash this party. Rearranged himself, then hauled the newcomer to his feet.
"Let's go see Lord Winther."
”And why would I be that stupid?"
The guy coughed as a noose of Air encircled the guy's throat. Snug as skin.
"Because you don't want your throat crushed in. Now walk."
It was like walking a dog on a training leash.
Only darkness shows you the light.