Consorting with Enemies

[Adrian Kane]

Arikan

After leaving Valtin and Miraseia, Arikan returned to the library to skim through the items procured from the Black Tower. The Objects taken from the Tower vault were already explored and secured safely back in his pockets. They were going to aid his cause greatly, but he was too weak to test any at the moment. The truth was that he was still not recovered completely from the healing, and he already channeled a great deal this night.

The main item that occupied his attention was the M’Hael’s book. It was fairly small as though it was the type of item he would carry on his person rather than some ledger for chronicling mundane history. That was why he was so eager to explore its contents. The M’Hael would only carry the most valuable of secrets on his person. Arikan hoped that somewhere in its pages lay the keys to finding the Chosen. He had every reason to believe Black Tower spies worked hard to follow their movements; and all those glorious clues were trapped within these coded pages.

After what felt like an Age of work, Arikan sat back, rubbed the sore muscles in his neck, and frowned. Perhaps the Asha’man, whose bizarre talent saw him break the ward on the Tower vault, could be used to break the code. The question filtered through his mind when the very man in question arrived. Nythadri appeared almost simultaneously. Their mutual states of undress was cloyingly amusing, and Arikan smirked as he climbed to his feet.

The last thing in the world he expected was a fist. The strike reeled him, though he caught his balance rather gracefully in the aftermath. He expertly schooled his expression from acknowledging the pain. If hundreds of years of life as a Dreadlord didn’t teach him control, then the Hand’s torture honed his mastery of the craft.

He smiled through the pain to acknowledge the personal nature of Jai’s attack. “She told you who I am.” His gaze shifted to Nythadri momentarily before sizing up the Asha’man’s posture to determine whether or not he was done.

Lord General Arikan never tolerated so much as a glare of insubordination, let alone allowing someone to physically (attempt to) strike him. A trail of bloody tongues, appendages, and worse made for the spoils of such punishment; other times he simply slit a throat than deal with the effort of extorting loyalty. It really depended on the circumstances (and his mood).

Yet here he found himself, face aching, and looming over two paths. He was already weakened from channeling earlier, although the items in his pocket might compensate, but to retaliate would guarantee losing the Aes Sedai’s alliance, and that likely included Talin’s continued healing. Arikan was never one to enter a fight he wasn’t sure to win, and in the end, rational logic won the day, but Jai had to know who was in charge here.

Jai was taller and (at this time) more physically imposing than Arikan, but only one of them knew sound Great Lord of the Dark’s voice, knew the torment of his essence probing their mind. Arikan stood up to him as though he was ten times the more imposing, and stared into the Asha’man’s eyes with such intensity, he was witness to the Asha’man’s regret. 

What happened then was unspoken, but they both knew who was tolerating whom when Arikan turned aside. He wiped the blood away from his lips with a rag, no point spoiling his only decent shirt, and attempted for a second time to hand Jai the book.

“Can you read this code or not?” He spoke through clenched teeth. The hint that if he could not, Jai’s value was going to be greatly diminished was apparent.

Jai was slow to take the book, but it only took a glance. “Given that I wrote it, you could say that I can.”

As his brows lifted in recognition, the movement wafted a fresh wave of tenderness, but he was careful to control it.

“You wrote this code?” He tapped the book again, disbelieving.

Jai snatched the book away, peered at the script that Arikan found utterly indecipherable, and his mouth moved in speaking to himself. Arikan could not quite make out what he was muttering. He watched, cautious and careful, until Jai began to read aloud.

”Darkfriends known to enter the third basement of the fourth fort in the fiftieth mile to the west of ‘Aesdaishar’ where within is found a plaque that reads ‘vakar al’vasen’. All investigators dead. Unknown significance.”

He did not suspect Jai to be lying. Honesty was written all over his pathetic face. “What does it mean?”

Jai returned the book to him, shrugging. “I said I could read it not understand it.”

Arikan fixed him with a flat stare before attempting to work it out for himself. The Old Tongue stood out, but Arikan was never more than passingly proficient at the basic words. He would need a trip to one of the great libraries to translate it. Other than the Old Tongue, it was clear that buried in the language lay the location of this mysterious plaque in a fort basement. That Darkfriends visited it and were able to resist attempts from Black Tower spies to decipher the significance told him it was prized by the Shadow, and where the Shadow’s prizes lay, Chosen were not often far to be found.

Arikan finally turned to the Aes Sedai. “You have anything better to add?”