The Seanchan Spy

[Eidolon]

 

Eithne and Malaika, Brown Ajah

As Zella had promised, Malaika felt no grogginess the next morning, but despite it her head was clouded by thought, and her gaze held that far away quality come to be associated with the sisters of the Brown Ajah. Sat astride the amber mare Anura had acquired her for the journey home, she barely noticed as the Gaidar took the reins and led her out of the stables. 

I have been a fool, she thought. As blind a fool as ever there was. She remembered Chakai’s image, and her hand throbbed as if in protest, a shooting pain travelling the length of her fingers. It sobered her, but also sucked out the usually peaceful aura around the young Brown. The smallest line between her eyes betrayed her consternation; her worries and her guilt.

Last night, caught in the moment, it had made perfect sense to cast aside all rationality and chase the dreams she had harboured secretly for so long. And yet what had she truly gained? For all that she had confronted her brother, she had come away with nothing. Noting but a regret that weighed heavy on her shoulders, a ghost that would last always.  Light, but she had thought not going would have left her with questions unanswered and a regret to haunt her.

"Will this mount do, Aes Sedai?"

The words jolted her, and she looked down at the Atha'an Miere woman as though seeing her for the first time that morning. Her dark gaze held little emotion, but one hand had planted itself impatiently on her hip. Across from her, seated colourfully upon a pale palfrey, Eithne Sedai's gaze was upon her also. She felt a light heat bloom in her usually pale cheeks, and felt silly for it.

"Oh, yes… Yes, of course, Anura. I’m sorry, I was just… caught in thought."

“A new day, sister.” Eithne guided her horse over, and they waited while Anura finalised the arrangements. “How pretty the sun looks over the domes of the Ebou Dari palaces, don’t you think?  Nothing like the shadows and gloom of moonlight. Come, Malaika. It is time to leave this place behind.”

Malaika heard the Brown’s words, and she also heard what she was really saying.  The young sister nodded, tucking the long braid of her hair over her shoulder.  Soon I shall be back at the Tower.  I shall be Home.

[Eidolon]

Kasimir Nevaren

Kasimir had not been home in a week. Swollen pride prevented him from attempting any sort of reconciliation, so he had been sleeping in door ways and renting rooms when he could afford it. Certainly he didn’t have the savings to return to Tarabon, or any other far away place where he might start anew, and any way the memories of Arad Doman were too fresh to entice him somewhere foreign. He gambled some of his coin too, in the hopes of swelling his funds, but his luck ran hot and cold. He was forced to live day by day, hand to mouth, and often his winnings worked backwards over debt he had already accrued. 

For a while he took to wandering the various inns to be found in Ebou Dar’s west side, asking if anyone knew the whereabouts of the two Aes Sedai and their striking Sea Folk guardian (he did not ask for a Seanchan, since he could not be sure if the woman would be wearing her face or another’s; and besides, a Seanchan face was not so uncommon here) but no one was forthcoming, whether or not he offered to grease their palms. He could only assume that they had left, and knowing that left him with a sense of restlessness.

Sometimes he saw his Jahzara out on one errand or another; his sister would smile and her dark eyes would light up, but she was miserable, he could tell. Eventually she confided that their father left his room less and less, and their mother despaired for it, and wouldn’t he please come home? Kaz declined, of course, but he did feel sorry for her.

“Forgive him,” she pleaded one time. “It will be as if the Aes Sedai never came.”

But Kasimir shook his head angrily and murmured something about secrets, to which she was the one to stalk off. It was the last time he saw her out and about in Ebou Dar.

Kaz wondered about her more, that Seanchan woman. Aes Sedai, he reminded himself often enough, but it didn’t stop his thoughts returning to her. He had been taught from the cradle to abhor the channelling women and all they stood for, but it had been his father’s hate, and now more than ever he was tempted to shun it for that reason alone. They saved me from the Domani, he told himself, but that seemed only to murky his thoughts further.

And she holds the key to his secrets… But it was not for want of answers that he found himself drawn, again and again, to the events of that night. Some of it was spite - the blazing desire to know what his father wanted to hide so badly, and some of it was akin to sorrow, to know he had never been trusted enough to share his father’s past. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to know… and yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

That night, sat at a round table in the Golden Goose with four other Ebou Dari knife duellers, Kasimir Nevaren made a decision. The pot glittering in the centre of the table had grown considerably in the last hour; a steady stream of alcohol loosened tongue and purse alike, and these five were long time gambling companions. They trusted to the integrity of the others, or swore to it fervently at least, and the coffers of friends were always more generous than when among strangers.

Gizel Chanadrin chatted about a duel that had happened last week, in which a young Ebou Dari nobleman had been slain by a ruffian of the Rahad. The others chittered with ums and ahs, but Kaz was lost in his own thoughts, none of them related to how Gizel claimed to have hunted down said ruffian and challenged him to a duel himself. (He won, of course).

Kaz reclined in his chair, heady with warm ale-glow, and thought about what he would do with all that coin. He fingered his cards; not a bad hand, but not a gambling one either. If I win this, he thought, then I go to Tar Valon and find the Seanchan called Malaika. He pushed the last remaining of his coin into the centre, and smiled smugly.

He lost.

The innkeeper chose that moment to come over.  “Three days behind,” he said. “You owe me three marks.”

Kasimir shrugged and chucked his cards at Gizel sitting opposite, watching as the man swept the treasure of coin and trinket over to him. “Ask him,” he said, folding his arms. “He’s got all my money.”

...And so it was that Kaz spent the rest of that evening scrubbing dishes in the kitchens, and lost his room at the Golden Goose to one Gizel Chanadrin.  It was a cold night.

[Eidolon]

 

Eithne and Malaika, Brown Ajah

The journey home was a long one, if largely uneventful. Malaika was a competent rider, but she had never spent so long in the saddle, and her injured hand complicated the job of handling the reins as well as she ought to. Occasionally a shooting pain would blare through her fingers; enough to make her wince at first, for the suddenness and pain, but she had grown used to it now. Eithne blamed the nerves, for the blade-wounds had been deep and her skills with Healing weaves minimal. Malaika’s fingers had also grown numb to subtle touch, and at first it felt as though her right hand was twice the size of her left, but she had begun to grow used to that sensation too, and barely noticed it by now, apart from the times it made her clumsy.

They took the shortest routes possible, but it was still a full week and half before Tar Valon was in their sight and they finally returned home.  The three travellers led their mounts into the Tower stables, and passed the reins over to the stable-hands with word that the horses should be scrubbed down thoroughly and treated to extra food tonight.  It had been a long time since Malaika had been in the stables, and she idly thought about Storm Dancer, the horse Broekk and Fate had taught her to ride on.

“Sister.” Eithne Sedai broke her thoughts as she followed the woman out and in to the Tower. Light but her legs were so sore, she could swear to it that she’d forgotten how to walk completely. “I will leave you to your rooms, now. It has been a long journey, and I have sent word ahead. I imagine baths are being draw as we speak, and I have seen to it that a Yellow shall take a closer look at your hand. Perhaps we could reconvene in my apartments this evening? Leave your order for dinner with one of the maids, and we shall dine together.”

The young Aes Sedai nodded and knew what it was they would be discussing. “Of course, sister.”  She inclined her head, dark braid spilling over her shoulder. She would be glad to brush her hair out, and she was certainly looking forward to a soak in warm, soapy water. Light but she had not been so tired in a long time…

[Eidolon]

Kasimir Nevaren

Kasimir woke to a shove in the ribs. He groaned, rolled, and met the sharp bristles of a broom. Reality flooded back. He was half tempted to roll back and shut his eyes. I don’t need this. I really don’t need this.

“You can’t sleep here. Come on out of my doorway, this isn’t the Rahad you know.” The woman hit him again, and though Kaz felt the stirrings of a hot temper, he knew better than to test the patience of an Ebou Dari woman.

“Okay, okay!” he murmured, hauling himself to his feet. The remains of last nights ale was fetid on his breath, and the Light alone knew the last time he had managed to wash. But he was too proud to return home, no matter the emptiness of his pockets or the filth on his neck. “Who needs a roof, anyway…” he said to himself as he stepped out into the cool winter sun. A soft ice had settled last night, and he was frozen through his skin to his bones. His fingers were stiff and blue with cold, even wrapped in strips of old material as they were; certainly not flexible enough to hope to be able to hold a knife. Betting on his duelling skills was about the only income Kaz could get. I look as though I should be in the Rahad, he thought to himself, noting the disgruntled gazes upon him as he passed.

Wandering down and through the market, he relieved a stall of some bread in swift passing. The empty pit of his stomach consumed it readily; it was hardly enough, though, and he licked the crumbs from his fingers and wished for more when it was gone. When was the last time he’d had a decent meal? Light… He came to rest in a courtyard, balancing on the edge of a fountain basin. His joints ached from rough sleeping, and he rubbed the back of his neck, twisting his head. Tiny droplets of water sprayed against his back. And when was the last time I had a bath…

Something in him snapped.  The ridiculousness of the situation washed over him, cool with anger.  He was not some pauper, some beggar to wander the streets. The anger streamed to a fine point, spearing the face of his father in his mind’s eye. I’m not going back, he thought fiercely, and I’m not staying here…

It left one clear option in his mind.

He would go to Tar Valon…