Loose Ends

[Jay Carpenter]

Zakar Kojima & Jaslene Basinthe

"Drawer approval for you, sir." 

Zak waved it over and glanced briefly at the details until he paused on the name.  "That's quite the sum for someone I don't recognize.  Nythadri Vanditera?" 

"Yes sir.  An Accepted of the White Tower.  Our archives list a Noble House of the same name in Andor some years ago, but no information as could explain such a fortune."  Zakar murmered his understanding, scrawled his slanted name to the contract and waved the man on, but not before noticing curiosity flashing the face of the woman visiting him.  Jaslene Basinthe twisted excitedly in her chair, raising her docile voice into a question.

"What was that name again?"

"Vanditera.  Nythadri, madam." 
Jaslene thanked him, turned back to Zak and smiled broadly, "Oh I must see this girl." 


He asked why.  Perhaps they knew one another, although he could not recall any reason why a tavern maid would consort with so highly positioned a woman of the Tower.  Accepted were but moments from the Shawl after all, a dominating chasm of power separated two such people. 

Jaslene quickly added her explanation,
"Nythadri.  That's the-.  Oh, yes you weren't there."
  Jaslene's memory caught up with her babbling, and Zak leaned back in his chair, fingers twined through one another against his lap and patiently waited for clarification.  Jaslene didn't seem to notice his brief glance at the arrangement of paperwork requiring his attention and continued, "The day you tried to, as Jai so dramatically put it, 'kill him' and showed up in Jon's office.  Right before he left he mumbled a name in front of us.  You know how he talks to himself without realizing it?"
  Jaslene paused like she actually expected an answer to her rhetoric.  Zak indulged with a light nod.  She smiled, and finally made her point.  "Someone named Nythadri, and stammered like a schoolboy after he realized it." 


Interesting.  Then Jaslene leaned forward so her wrists were perched on the edge of the gleaming desk seperating them, lowered her tone, and shared the highlight of her information.  Zak made the mental note to summon his assistant to wipe the furniture down after she left, then nodded that she get on with it.  The woman could certainly be dramatic.  He could see why Jai had been so drawn to her back then.
"And Mikel said he asked about an Accepted that'd been injured."


Zak shook his head, disappointed.  "That's only because I told him that little forsaken piece of street scum-courier attacked-"


Jaslene interrupted, and Zak blinked back at her with deep surprised. 
"You watch your tongue around me Zakar Kojima."
  Her tension melted soon after, replacing the beratement with a gloriously warm smile as she began to gather her things. 

Likewise rousing, Zak interrupted this time. 
"No.  It's time you left anyway."
  Jaslene looked hurt as a cracked egg.  To which Zak rose, crossed to her and fluidly lifted her hand, drawing her up before him.  He tried to keep the harshness from touching his voice around her, but Jaslene had always been sensitive and things did not always come out the way he intended.  "What I mean is, Jon will be wondering what's taking so long."
  Jaslene nodded, the wounding fading away into acceptable disappointment as she looked into his eyes, nodding, 
"Very well.  Mikel-"


"-Mikel is on duty, right now.  You think i'd send for you when he wasn't?"
  He kissed her hand and let her go, waving generally at the things on his desk.  "I'll take a look at the changes to the books Jai made when I can.  And I will see you later.  Take care of those children." 


Soon after, Zakar made his way downstairs.  There was little fanfare when he arrived to the main trading floor.  However, among the sharp dressed men focused on their tasks around them, he managed to stand out.  Zakar was tall and narrow across the shoulders.  Light brown hair still void of gray was long to swirl around with neat dignity, but not so long for any actual curl to be seen; likewise untouched by nervous fingers as others were wont to scrub.  A perfectly groomed sheen of a short board framed his mouth, but the remaining jawline was smooth shaven.  He had a narrow, hawk-like face and unblinking eyes which seemed to censure everything they saw.  Inspecting his institution as he traversed it.  His suit and vest lay a little more smoothly than everyone else's.  Their tailoring finer.  His cufflinks and buttons more ornate.  His stride more intense.

An assistant followed behind him, similarly dressed well but in an obvious pay-grade lower.  A middle-aged man, perhaps with a few more grays in his hair than his employer.  A man positioned into a high level of trust, as assistants tended to know every secret burdening their charges.  He carried portable writing utensils and scratched out notes as Zakar thought to say them.  Never a moment of time to be wasted by simple walking between these two.  More than one person attempted to approach, but those who came close enough to bypass the assistant's dismissal and actually win Zak's momentary attention were quickly waved away.  A figure in a white dress waited so patiently for his arrival ahead.  The general manager of such an institution held a lot of power, perhaps more than he should; it was his name in the fresco, after all, or as good as, since Arman Kojima's transition from executive in charge to owner only.  He was never sharp-tongued about the dismissals, nor outwardly glaring at the retreating backs, but any manifestion of his ire was kept just below the surface.  He was a man long accustomed to constantly being needed. 

He stopped short of Nythadri's table.  The stern-faced assistant handed a portfolio to the personal banker handling Nythadri's account.  The man received it amid hasty thanks.  He was unused to being so personally overseen by their chief executive, and searched the paperwork one last time for errors, glancing up only as introductions were made. 
"Accepted, if I may be so forward, may I introduce you to Zakar Kojima?  Our executive manager." 

He greeted her with a stiff bow, curtly tugged on his well-tailored sleeves, cuff-links gleaming until he clasped his wrists behind his back.  He did not speak for a moment, taking the time to thoughtfully study the girl before him.  Girl she was, indeed, though perhaps he saw a client first and girl second.  Other notations about her manner dictated away in his head.  Filing nothing inappropriate, only a calculated study of their new patron.  Nythadri wore a cold mask, but Zakar did not flinch when her striking eyes met his; a feature any man this side of the grave should appreciate.  But unlike other men's enrapturement, he questioned only what manner of thoughts caused her name to sputter from his brother's reckless ramblings. 

He finally addressed her, "Accepted Vanditera.  It is an honor to serve the White Tower.  Your patience in these matters is not unregarded.  I assure you, the delay was only for standard procedure.  All will unfold smoothly for you now."
  There was little warmth in the words, read from the pages of memory spoken so many times before.  The name changes, of course, but the placating speech was automatic.  Their institution was not hurting for business.  Members of the White Tower may choose one of several competitors in the city, but Zakar's reign in the world of finance was secure.  He rarely saw the need to personally extend the hand of gratitude, White Tower notwithstanding.

However, Nythadri was not just any client.  As no corrections to the paperwork seemed to be needed, her accountant whipped his pen swiftly across the paperwork and outlined the details of their contract.  A touch of nerves circled the back of his throat.  Unused, perhaps, to working under the scrutiny of someone so senior as Zakar standing by, watching.

Perhaps he grew impatient waiting on the contract.  Or perhaps while waiting for some revelation to emerge having now met and spoken with the the identity Jaslene brought to his attention.  In the intervening time, he asked a few routine questions she'd already shared at earlier stages in the process at one point or another.  The date of the note.  It's original drawer.  If she required a notary they had one on staff.  But regarded her every answer completely, as though perhaps one might fill the gaps in his mind concerning recent events.  Jai delivered Ellis, implicating a presence in Caemlyn.  Ellis meanwhile implicated, though withheld the full details concerning, a net much more widely cast than the one that'd landed him back in Tar Valon.  Where did one Accepted fit in Jai's game?  And how much did she know?  Or, by extension, how much did the White Tower know?  Theirs, perhaps, was the only institution capable of striking a reasonable amount of fear into the back of his mind.  Which given the circumstances, skittered like shadows in the back of his thoughts.

He grew bolder. 
A subtle tilt of his head toward the assistant sparked an instant response.  He gathered the accountant and together the two cleared themselves from hearing range devoting their complete attentions to the paperwork at hand.  Leaving Zak as good as alone with Nythadri.
"You are.. Andoran?"
  Yes, her accent answered as much, "Caemlyner, perhaps?  If I can still tell my dialects apart, I would place you in the Inner City west side?"
  It was only polite to demonstrate his knowledge of her background in that he knew but did not inquire about the details of her life.  A round-about gesture of providing privacy.  They would ask no questions about movements of clients' money.  Their job was to invest, advise, and secure it.  Not investigate its origins.  However, it was not the Accepted's fortune which made him easy.  It was the proximity of her to current circumstances.  Events he intended to fully grasp.  He could not afford the risk in ignoring such coincidences. 

"We have a long standing relationship with Lynn House, I anticipate no problem in the note's transfer."
  He made the conscious effort to soften his tone for the casual chat.  Much as he might address Jaslene, or perhaps his wife.  Such sounds of formal familiarity withheld complete judgement of Nythadri's reactions thus far until noting her reaction to the following bait: 
"In fact, one of my former apprentices, a Master Ellis, was Chair of Trade Guild on their Board of Directors.  He recently moved south, unfortunately.  It seems he prefers warmer climes these days.  I've never been to Caemlyn myself, but he speaks highly of it's particular gleam this time of year, just before the winter settles in.  Although I doubt he's acquired the same noble perfection of dialect as yourself, Accepted.  Humbly born men can never outgrow such habits, yes." 


This was not his first interaction with women of the White Tower.  However, knowing they tended to be particularly difficult to read, they usually parried his speeches with one of their own.  Nuggets he could usually turn to good use somehow.  In this case, it was not necessarily what she said that he intended to interpret.