Filling the Days

[Jaxen Marveet]

Chapter 7: The Shield and the Plan

She had the motherly viper-vibe down to an art, and for an infinite moment, Jole wondered if she might produce fangs with which to plunge into his throat. She leaned near enough for it, but the curl of disgust sent her away, and upon the retreat, Jole smiled to himself.

The amusement was short-lived. The squeeze of a shield soon penetrated his skin much to his disappointment to trade the sensation for healing. Supposing he was asking for a lot to claim what he had and still find relief from this headache afterward. Did she sense the other shield already in place? Did she shudder at his power? He watched closely for signs of either.

Curiously, additional bondage wrapped his arms, which he tested as though not his first time, and found them quite secure.
“You know how awkward it will be to stand all tied up like this? You could have just asked.” His reaction thus far was playful, lacking any hint of darkness or anger. Whatever her reaction, eventually, he slithered to his feet. It was rather unnatural, walking without the swing of the arm nor the twitch of his ever-moving fingers, but somehow, Jole made a show of it anyway.

“Don’t you want to know my name?” He hopped to her side with more energy than his previous infirm state belied. When Jole peered around at her face it was at an agile angle. There, she would find a teasing smirk fluttering his lips. “Well… My other name.”

She fixed him with such a dismissive look, he was almost offended.
”No.”

“You must be curious. Unless you’re clever enough to guess, but you can’t know for sure.”

”You are the one who got captured, Jorin. Or bested. Or betrayed. And you are also the one I will plug the mouth of, if you do not be quiet.”

If there was a moment for darkness, it was then. How could she not want to know? More, reminders of that particular day were not welcome, but he was liking where this was going. The fleeting dark fled his aura, and he smiled to himself as he slipped into compliant step just behind her.

One of the Maidens looked back as the low-peering look of Jole’s favor settled on her in turn. Her smile was a sneer of teeth that he might have taken for predatory amusement if they’d met in the dark. Another Maiden followed behind. It was a proper escort, Jole thought of himself. One Aes Sedai was certainly enough, though he deserved the honor of more; she must have noticed the shield easy to slip over his head, but for now, he was content to be imagined as a threat. He’d dreamed of this day; it was more attention than he could remember enjoying in a long time. 

Despite the warning, or perhaps because of it, he continued, voice hovering just out of sight.
“Oh, but if you do that, how will I be able to explain to my dear friend where to find the M’Hael’s murderer? Did you hear he’d been assassinated? Again. So tragic.” His eyes flashed excited for the scintillating news, though even if she dared not glance back, she’d hear the vibrant bounce in his voice. A Red may not care, but he anticipated she would perk an ear about assassins brushing too close for comfort. “What did you think we were talking about this morning? Until that dreadful headache interrupted such a nice conversation.” His tongue clicked a tsk, tsk of disappointment.

He was going to continue enjoying the sound of his own voice until she made good on her threat. He was humming the previous night’s tune—

“Oh, the ever-spinning Wheel of time,
Got’s us dancin' to its rhythm and rhyme.”

—when the gag finally pried its way into his mouth. It was a little uncomfortable but tolerable.

It seemed that the Aes Sedai stood on high authority with his Dragonship. It took little fanfare to grant their unexpected entrance.

Of course, when Jole was presented all strung up and obviously gagged, the most satisfying expression of surprise crossed the Dragon’s face. He laid aside what he was holding and approached. His gaze narrowed upon meeting Jole’s eye, and in that tired, more aged face than Jole cared to admit, he saw a truth that would likely surprise the Forsaken himself. Of course, there was nothing obvious Jole could do about his predictament at the moment. So he opted to sit in the same chair he’d occupied that morning, cross his legs and watch the show.

When the Dragon spoke, he commanded the room, but Jole thought he sensed a measure of pity between the words. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. “Devika, you can let him go. He’s not dangerous.”

Jole’s brows arched high. A polite but interesting way to put it despite the fact the Dragon’s assessment was momentarily accurate. It’s not like knives were hidden up his sleeves.