10-22-2017, 04:14 PM
For the woman intended to live forever, she was plainer than he'd imagined an Empress to be. Maybe not exactly plain, he took the time to note. Nobody in that color could be plain, gowned in that shade of red, sinister as a draghkar's mouth. And he'd never seen a slit up the side like that before. But he would have wagered the Seanchan would deck their ruler out something a bit more flashy; they were a gaudy lot after all. He wouldn't put it past Daryen to host the seanchan empress a visit to Arad Doman though. The guy would probably give her a tour of his estate like some out of town relative. But violating this woman’s personal space didn't swarm half the Seanchan army on his back, so either the self-proclaimed empress, with hair that grew at an outrageous rate, was not a guest of her own free will or the warm and fuzzy stranger was being playful.
Always appreciative for a lady with a wit, Jai's tired grin fanned back to life. She fit with the mood of the night. It was almost refreshing to find someone with such obscenely dry sarcasm. Whatever intentions she had, stealing away the King of Arad Doman or not, Jai almost warned her she better hope her intentions aligned with the man in question, else she was in for quite the swim upstream. He knew how to stick to decisions once they were made. And make sure his subjects agreed. Daryen may be the country's immaculate ruler, but King though the man was, he wasn't Jai's, thankfully; though, come to think of it, kneeling was a whole other story. Daryen was now bounding up the dais like he owned the place, and Jai caught himself smirking.
As it seemed the show was about to start, Jai sank into the shadows of his chair as the charming stranger was swept onto her feet. He stretched out with the sort of terrible, relaxed posture some woman would surely rebuke, perched his elbows up, splayed his fingers together, and touched them to his lips thoughtfully. Mainly to hide his leaking expression while Daryen's salutation soared over the crowd.
A Gaidar? His brows rose up, impressed. Jai's study left the man in the spotlight to the petite thing at his side as though trying to picture the sarcastic draghkar in a red dress draped int the garb of a bit more mythical sort of warrior. A woman Gaidin? Interesting. Half-bored, Jai glazed across the crowd for their collective reaction, thoughts drifting. Were there female draghkar? Another good question. Misshapen face and all, it was mostly about keeping an ear out for their hypnotic song; he'd not invested much thought from where they sprang in years past. Myrddraal? Now that he knew: No. Being mutant trolloc spawn, they were always male. Thankfully unbreeding males. Trollocs: yes. As many fighting trollocs as there were in the world, likely a good million or two, but who knew how far the Blight went. There were probably as many females sitting up there suckling monsters and knitting leather. And two guys capable of doing something about it were waving the seanchan over from across the pond to break bread and share fire. A sentiment a Gaidar might understand.
Question aside, he followed the King of Arad Doman's outstretched arm as gullible as the rest of the crowd. All the way to the all too human but no less soul-sucking pair. The blood drained from his face, tense with shock, when he realized them. Jai slid immediately forward on the chair as though to spring to his feet in alarm. But somehow remained seated. The spark of Saidin rolling in the periphery roared instinctively into a much broader blaze and he reached out to it. Daryen would notice. Light how could he not? Moderately comfortable as they were channeling around one another, he'd be a fool to not expect everyone's defenses to immediately heighten: and Jai resorted to the same defense he always did. But unless the Seanchan character knew the Source as well, Daryen would be the only one to sense anything unusual. And he didn't seem to care.
Their names and titles slid away without recognition. The crowd responded and the feast was effectively corrupted. None of them should stomach eating in the presence of such a jaundice on civilization, but Jai was otherwise occupied regathering his bearings to pay the crowd any further attention. The man carried no weapon, but was sure enough of himself to perhaps not need one. Whatever it was the woman was wearing, Jai did not look at it long. It was slave-garb as sickening as the smocks they forced on their damane. They went about their dramatic speech making. Her drawl announcing the slave driver's thoughts bled his ears dry. It was carrying and confident and did not need filled with abhoration to swirl the taste of metal on his tongue.
Daryen pulled the strings of his mysterious distraction aside to make way for the foreign robe of power. A Seanchan authority like him did not crawl into their midst alone. Yet no rows of ferocious helmets marched in. No men in proud gold armor honored their Bloodlord's host with their presence. No women in uniformed dresses turned their gray warhounds his way. The moon was too dimmed by now to tell if anything winged darted across the massive pavilion of night. The absence wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped, there were still no sign of archers nesting in the shadows overhead. Surely Daryen had them up there?
How could Daryen stay his hand? Any Asha'man? Light! What restraint kept their seanchan heads attached to their robed shoulders when Daryen was free to take them? Jai was sitting on his hands as it were, holding himself back by loyalty alone. What hole so deep in his friend's gut buried such cold emotions far from surfacing: to offer the curse of civilization seats of honor at his table? Light! No channeler should stay their hand! Those two. Those bloody two guests of honor baiting the Domani with their glorified poisoned tongues would see their beloved king enslaved if they had their way. If captured damane were prizes to seek, a captured Asha'man would be unfathomable. Thankfully, the technology to capture their kind for slavery was nothing more than rumor. No, instead it would be just dying in the worst way a channeler could possibly die. Their darling hero-king would howl with torture so excruciating, his adoring subjects as witnesses would never recover: Jai had seen it, he knew. In the chaos of a night gone bad, a rogue sul'dam clapped a loose collar on a brother's neck. Witnessing someone suffering the living dissolution of their thread in the Pattern into fibers was not so easily forgettable. A man one moment, and a carcass the next. All because their connection to saidin forbade such a link to something meant to harness saidar. Kazic was nothing but an empty tendril left in his place in the Pattern afterward. All in the breadth of time it took to snap one of those vile collars that won the Seanchan their empire onto his neck.
The Aes Sedai would fare better to the collar than her black-coated counterparts. Slavery, yes but the collar would take the neck of Saidar into its fold. And put it to good use. Liridia should be keeping her warder close. It might do her some good, if they were all they were rumored to be. But Jai didn't need to cross blades with the fellow to know he wouldn't last long against a powerhouse seanchan slave. Less when that slave was his former Mistress: which they would do, turn Liridia against her own warder. Nythadri was in the open though. Agelessness didn't brand her face Aes Sedai like Liridia's, she had only take off her Accepted garb and could fall into anonymity. Until then, hopefully his services somehow extended to Nythadri by association. Blood and ashes! Where was she?! He thought his heart was going to fight its way out of his shirt until his roam finally spotted her. She didn't seem panicked. Calm as ever, actually. It was somewhat comforting, although her looks weren't the most reliable gauge of her status. At least he could get to her quickly. If she needed anything.
He rubbed his brow, pulsing with contingencies when Daryen confiscated what was rightfully his: his seat. Jai burnt old cinders of muted questions for the man at his side. He would go unanswered, but challenging as Jai's expression was, Daryen should guess he pleaded for them no less painfully.
Saidin hurt, pounding in on the doors that it be put to good use. It was hardly a relief to steal one of Juna's out of reach glasses from her tray with a snake of Air, but the thrill of the small task quickened his blood. Doubling the usual savor from ecstasy to an ache to do so in such close quarters with another vessel. Especially when that vessel was Daryen. The rapture for channeling behind Jai's torn expression was immediately lost for the short time copying Daryen's nervous swallow. Tense all the same as the white-garbed Asha'man at his side, but for entirely different reasons. That went better than expected? Blood and ashes! What'd the man expect?!
He placed the thimble on the ground but remained doubled over. Head swimming for far less fun reasons than the drink, he scrubbed his hair. Palmed his scalp. Pushed his face into his hands. Nythadri's wisdom censuring what he might otherwise have said.
He lifted just enough to stare at the vulnerable scalp of Lord Sivi-something-or-other seated within range of their seanchan stench. The albino slave at his side meant nothing. Saidin begged him to do something. And not to channel around thimbles of Light-forsaken spicy drinks. At some point his hand went to Asad's sword too. Not the prepared warder death grip on the hilt, but a casual, contemplative drumming. If he were going to rid the world of one less Seanchan Blood's shaved head, it would not be with steel. But he did enjoy the looks on a few turned faces when they appreciated the sight of coiled man of black casually drumming a hilt he knew how to wield.
Daryen wanted their treaty for some insane reason. Trust him? Trust that? How did Nythadri ignore her brother's ghost? Was Daryen really so numb a man to be capable of ripping beating hearts from thousands of chests, crush the organ in his fist, and drive them from his streets only to turn around a few years later to invite them back? A heroic nobleman, cloaked in their salvation. That was the Domain's view of their elected Lord. Jai'd been sold on it, as much as everyone else. He'd do anything for the guy. Still would, he supposed. Trusting him, the decision was made back at the gate in the White Tower. Sure. Faith, Right. Burn him.
He pulled away, sticking by the decision he'd already made. Creative ideas as to what to do with the Seanchan splashed the canvas of his imagination, but rather than developing them into reality, he found himself looking at Daryen instead. Ruddy sparkling blue gems jabbed in his eye sockets and all. Saidin lessened in response as he gave over, like blood seeping welcomed through a loosened fist. He knew the guy was ready to slash any weave Jai would use to crush their lives anyway. Without hesitation. And with more violence than what threw him from the saddle that afternoon. He also knew he really wouldn't stain the flagstones this time as opposed to earlier. But somehow, Daryen looked too rested to be seriously worried about Jai, as though he knew all along nothing was going to happen.
It seemed the world was going to burn, and Daryen was building the firepit, so Jai sighed and posed the obvious question. Absolutely serious, for once, "You checked them out, yes? Yourself? Every piece of jewelry taken from everyone they brought?"
It wasn't exactly reassuring to look for the leash any more. Not all collars these days were as obvious as they used to be. Aware of what the answer would be, the urgency about security detail fell from his expression soon after asking. He was tired. And an uneasy itch crawled across his skin. The same discomfort that creeped up when his mornings did not start exactly the same way.
"You got to give me something to do, brother."
He still didn't know why he had to be here for this. Sitting around doing nothing without knowing why was a hard beast to contain. The tension seemed to give way, but the struggle to give up control was obvious. At least the pins were straight. He was tired, sure. But some time devoted to mastering the one thing a guy was good at was worth staying awake for. Not that he'd have a choice, once started; but a long stint hunched across a desk would even out some of the imbalance threatening his resolve. He tugged his sleeves violently, one at a time straight to his wrists several times, as though they would not sit right no matter how neat their appearance. At least he'd feel useful, again. The idea of being so out of control grated on short nerves. Like he knew what would eventually strike out if the surrender were allowed to fester.
Always appreciative for a lady with a wit, Jai's tired grin fanned back to life. She fit with the mood of the night. It was almost refreshing to find someone with such obscenely dry sarcasm. Whatever intentions she had, stealing away the King of Arad Doman or not, Jai almost warned her she better hope her intentions aligned with the man in question, else she was in for quite the swim upstream. He knew how to stick to decisions once they were made. And make sure his subjects agreed. Daryen may be the country's immaculate ruler, but King though the man was, he wasn't Jai's, thankfully; though, come to think of it, kneeling was a whole other story. Daryen was now bounding up the dais like he owned the place, and Jai caught himself smirking.
As it seemed the show was about to start, Jai sank into the shadows of his chair as the charming stranger was swept onto her feet. He stretched out with the sort of terrible, relaxed posture some woman would surely rebuke, perched his elbows up, splayed his fingers together, and touched them to his lips thoughtfully. Mainly to hide his leaking expression while Daryen's salutation soared over the crowd.
A Gaidar? His brows rose up, impressed. Jai's study left the man in the spotlight to the petite thing at his side as though trying to picture the sarcastic draghkar in a red dress draped int the garb of a bit more mythical sort of warrior. A woman Gaidin? Interesting. Half-bored, Jai glazed across the crowd for their collective reaction, thoughts drifting. Were there female draghkar? Another good question. Misshapen face and all, it was mostly about keeping an ear out for their hypnotic song; he'd not invested much thought from where they sprang in years past. Myrddraal? Now that he knew: No. Being mutant trolloc spawn, they were always male. Thankfully unbreeding males. Trollocs: yes. As many fighting trollocs as there were in the world, likely a good million or two, but who knew how far the Blight went. There were probably as many females sitting up there suckling monsters and knitting leather. And two guys capable of doing something about it were waving the seanchan over from across the pond to break bread and share fire. A sentiment a Gaidar might understand.
Question aside, he followed the King of Arad Doman's outstretched arm as gullible as the rest of the crowd. All the way to the all too human but no less soul-sucking pair. The blood drained from his face, tense with shock, when he realized them. Jai slid immediately forward on the chair as though to spring to his feet in alarm. But somehow remained seated. The spark of Saidin rolling in the periphery roared instinctively into a much broader blaze and he reached out to it. Daryen would notice. Light how could he not? Moderately comfortable as they were channeling around one another, he'd be a fool to not expect everyone's defenses to immediately heighten: and Jai resorted to the same defense he always did. But unless the Seanchan character knew the Source as well, Daryen would be the only one to sense anything unusual. And he didn't seem to care.
Their names and titles slid away without recognition. The crowd responded and the feast was effectively corrupted. None of them should stomach eating in the presence of such a jaundice on civilization, but Jai was otherwise occupied regathering his bearings to pay the crowd any further attention. The man carried no weapon, but was sure enough of himself to perhaps not need one. Whatever it was the woman was wearing, Jai did not look at it long. It was slave-garb as sickening as the smocks they forced on their damane. They went about their dramatic speech making. Her drawl announcing the slave driver's thoughts bled his ears dry. It was carrying and confident and did not need filled with abhoration to swirl the taste of metal on his tongue.
Daryen pulled the strings of his mysterious distraction aside to make way for the foreign robe of power. A Seanchan authority like him did not crawl into their midst alone. Yet no rows of ferocious helmets marched in. No men in proud gold armor honored their Bloodlord's host with their presence. No women in uniformed dresses turned their gray warhounds his way. The moon was too dimmed by now to tell if anything winged darted across the massive pavilion of night. The absence wasn't as comforting as he'd hoped, there were still no sign of archers nesting in the shadows overhead. Surely Daryen had them up there?
How could Daryen stay his hand? Any Asha'man? Light! What restraint kept their seanchan heads attached to their robed shoulders when Daryen was free to take them? Jai was sitting on his hands as it were, holding himself back by loyalty alone. What hole so deep in his friend's gut buried such cold emotions far from surfacing: to offer the curse of civilization seats of honor at his table? Light! No channeler should stay their hand! Those two. Those bloody two guests of honor baiting the Domani with their glorified poisoned tongues would see their beloved king enslaved if they had their way. If captured damane were prizes to seek, a captured Asha'man would be unfathomable. Thankfully, the technology to capture their kind for slavery was nothing more than rumor. No, instead it would be just dying in the worst way a channeler could possibly die. Their darling hero-king would howl with torture so excruciating, his adoring subjects as witnesses would never recover: Jai had seen it, he knew. In the chaos of a night gone bad, a rogue sul'dam clapped a loose collar on a brother's neck. Witnessing someone suffering the living dissolution of their thread in the Pattern into fibers was not so easily forgettable. A man one moment, and a carcass the next. All because their connection to saidin forbade such a link to something meant to harness saidar. Kazic was nothing but an empty tendril left in his place in the Pattern afterward. All in the breadth of time it took to snap one of those vile collars that won the Seanchan their empire onto his neck.
The Aes Sedai would fare better to the collar than her black-coated counterparts. Slavery, yes but the collar would take the neck of Saidar into its fold. And put it to good use. Liridia should be keeping her warder close. It might do her some good, if they were all they were rumored to be. But Jai didn't need to cross blades with the fellow to know he wouldn't last long against a powerhouse seanchan slave. Less when that slave was his former Mistress: which they would do, turn Liridia against her own warder. Nythadri was in the open though. Agelessness didn't brand her face Aes Sedai like Liridia's, she had only take off her Accepted garb and could fall into anonymity. Until then, hopefully his services somehow extended to Nythadri by association. Blood and ashes! Where was she?! He thought his heart was going to fight its way out of his shirt until his roam finally spotted her. She didn't seem panicked. Calm as ever, actually. It was somewhat comforting, although her looks weren't the most reliable gauge of her status. At least he could get to her quickly. If she needed anything.
He rubbed his brow, pulsing with contingencies when Daryen confiscated what was rightfully his: his seat. Jai burnt old cinders of muted questions for the man at his side. He would go unanswered, but challenging as Jai's expression was, Daryen should guess he pleaded for them no less painfully.
Saidin hurt, pounding in on the doors that it be put to good use. It was hardly a relief to steal one of Juna's out of reach glasses from her tray with a snake of Air, but the thrill of the small task quickened his blood. Doubling the usual savor from ecstasy to an ache to do so in such close quarters with another vessel. Especially when that vessel was Daryen. The rapture for channeling behind Jai's torn expression was immediately lost for the short time copying Daryen's nervous swallow. Tense all the same as the white-garbed Asha'man at his side, but for entirely different reasons. That went better than expected? Blood and ashes! What'd the man expect?!
He placed the thimble on the ground but remained doubled over. Head swimming for far less fun reasons than the drink, he scrubbed his hair. Palmed his scalp. Pushed his face into his hands. Nythadri's wisdom censuring what he might otherwise have said.
He lifted just enough to stare at the vulnerable scalp of Lord Sivi-something-or-other seated within range of their seanchan stench. The albino slave at his side meant nothing. Saidin begged him to do something. And not to channel around thimbles of Light-forsaken spicy drinks. At some point his hand went to Asad's sword too. Not the prepared warder death grip on the hilt, but a casual, contemplative drumming. If he were going to rid the world of one less Seanchan Blood's shaved head, it would not be with steel. But he did enjoy the looks on a few turned faces when they appreciated the sight of coiled man of black casually drumming a hilt he knew how to wield.
Daryen wanted their treaty for some insane reason. Trust him? Trust that? How did Nythadri ignore her brother's ghost? Was Daryen really so numb a man to be capable of ripping beating hearts from thousands of chests, crush the organ in his fist, and drive them from his streets only to turn around a few years later to invite them back? A heroic nobleman, cloaked in their salvation. That was the Domain's view of their elected Lord. Jai'd been sold on it, as much as everyone else. He'd do anything for the guy. Still would, he supposed. Trusting him, the decision was made back at the gate in the White Tower. Sure. Faith, Right. Burn him.
He pulled away, sticking by the decision he'd already made. Creative ideas as to what to do with the Seanchan splashed the canvas of his imagination, but rather than developing them into reality, he found himself looking at Daryen instead. Ruddy sparkling blue gems jabbed in his eye sockets and all. Saidin lessened in response as he gave over, like blood seeping welcomed through a loosened fist. He knew the guy was ready to slash any weave Jai would use to crush their lives anyway. Without hesitation. And with more violence than what threw him from the saddle that afternoon. He also knew he really wouldn't stain the flagstones this time as opposed to earlier. But somehow, Daryen looked too rested to be seriously worried about Jai, as though he knew all along nothing was going to happen.
It seemed the world was going to burn, and Daryen was building the firepit, so Jai sighed and posed the obvious question. Absolutely serious, for once, "You checked them out, yes? Yourself? Every piece of jewelry taken from everyone they brought?"
It wasn't exactly reassuring to look for the leash any more. Not all collars these days were as obvious as they used to be. Aware of what the answer would be, the urgency about security detail fell from his expression soon after asking. He was tired. And an uneasy itch crawled across his skin. The same discomfort that creeped up when his mornings did not start exactly the same way.
"You got to give me something to do, brother."
He still didn't know why he had to be here for this. Sitting around doing nothing without knowing why was a hard beast to contain. The tension seemed to give way, but the struggle to give up control was obvious. At least the pins were straight. He was tired, sure. But some time devoted to mastering the one thing a guy was good at was worth staying awake for. Not that he'd have a choice, once started; but a long stint hunched across a desk would even out some of the imbalance threatening his resolve. He tugged his sleeves violently, one at a time straight to his wrists several times, as though they would not sit right no matter how neat their appearance. At least he'd feel useful, again. The idea of being so out of control grated on short nerves. Like he knew what would eventually strike out if the surrender were allowed to fester.
Only darkness shows you the light.