The Gilded Gleeman

[Ezekiel]

When the Green finally deigned to step in, Zahir inclined his head in half a bow to admit her into his exchange with the Amyrlin’s warder. It was his neck in the noose, but flapping his lips now was likely to earn less charity than holding his tongue – gilded though it was, he knew the value of silence. It would seem the cause was not entirely lost. Just as well since he’d sacrificed a blow to his face in the gamble, and if it had proved a fruitless sacrifice, the itch for recompense would have been an unbearable distraction. He fell into an easy sort of formality, like a man reminded of the duty of his work, and his reasons for being here. Zahir did not think the gaidar would find reason to deny the request, but he was already thinking ahead to the light-brained warder hovering by Lythia’s side. The fewer reasons given for interference from that quarter, the better.

“The view is indeed incomparable.” His lips twitched; a secret smile imparted. He met the Aes Sedai's eyes for the length of a breath, and then he turned to bow to the gaidar. There were no theatrics this time, just flawless grace. It should be contrite enough. It wouldn’t hurt the sour chit to smile, though, would it?

Then, to Lythia: “Lead on, Aes Sedai. I am yours to command."