The Hunt

[Jay Carpenter]

Now Jai began to wonder if he finally lost his mind. Just to make sure, he blinked a few times to check for hallucinations. Had Nythadri's eyes actually turned demure? Was a few choice words from the exquisit Nisele all it had taken to subdue her? Then, he checked Nisele for the extent of his mind-warp. Perhaps she'd rolled over and wanted scratched behind the ears?

Unfortunately, no peace was found in Nisele's marble face. He couldn't imagine staring at something so plumply beautiful for so long without finding something satisfying. How people managed to pull the rope and black out their feelings so easily, he had no idea. Yet here he was being drawn in by such a curtain. Except, did Nisele look...? No, it made no sense. Why would she look displeased? Bloody women! Bloody, light-forsaken, blasted creatures.

Then Nythadri turned. Maybe. A sweet smile on her lips one moment and a flash of defiance the next. Nisele feeding the Accepted poisoned honey from a silver spoon. After minutes of their charade, Jai began to question the delusion and eye Nythadri's undisturbed wine. She might, but he had no intention of wasting it. When drank fast enough, the only thing that bit was the acid anyway. Unfortunately, Daryen never stocked anything stronger. Imaad generally kept a flask buried in all those ugly furs. If things went any more down hill, Jai would have to ask to borrow it. Just to liven things up a bit, since Nythadri seemed to be the exact opposite of what he first imagined her to be: flat as the soles cladding Nisele's supple boots.

It was no wonder, given how he'd misjudged Nythadri's earlier fire, like ash-white coal pulsing deep and hot, waiting to be disturbed to the wind, that Nisele's parting words now piqued his interest instead. He was left with the distinct impression of her expertise. If she was so talented at something as simple as walking... he recalled how her fingers grazed the back of his hand, the cool stream of whispering air passing over lips toward his ear, the lingering evidence of her perfume teasing the senses in her absence; his chest raced with the possibilities as he watched her walk away. Don't think Jai didn't think about it. He was only human, after all. Perhaps this hunt might not be so dull as he imagined..?

A wisp of darkness moved in the corner of one eye. When Jai's eyes snapped to it on instinct, he was relieved it was only a dark curl of hair falling on the cushion and not the creeping of some sudden shadow's edge. Short-lasting relief slowly transformed into the frown of caution.

"Save me..?"


The sedate creature of moments ago disappeared but studying Nythadri's pale eyes, daring him to grasp for impossible handholds in their icy ravine, he clearly tried to figure her out.

An encore replayed her surprising comments. Over and over. Mention of Daryen's name forced a search for the man, followed on the heels of Tamal's. An hour ago Nythadri was in Tar Valon. Jai could not imagine how she knew the dealings discussed only behind closed doors. Unless. He drew a dry breath. And forced himself to swallow it. Was this Fate's doing? The king's sister. He itched to glance at Daryen's shape drifting in and out of sight. Powerful, but just as graceful. The king's hair was paler, but the intensity to his eyes and leanness of his frame mimicked his lineage in perfect form enhanced only by the rare appearances in black. An exquisite man, as Fate was an exquisite woman.

As a power of the world and late to their meeting, Fate could have planted someone to watch him fester in the entrance hall alone. Then use that same captivating presence to draw him to a Gate. Back here. Perhaps Daryen was innocent, but Jai knew the White Tower's potential for manipulation.

He flicked an incriminating glance at Nythadri's ring, but it was those eyes that drew him back up. He danced the edge of a sword, trying to decide where she stood. But in the end, it was her hinting eyes which settled his decision to invest.

Across the room, Jai suddenly drew the attention of the sole person there who might be aware of what he did. Daryen was used to Saidin frequently punching him alert when another Asha'man was around. More when that Asha'man was Jai, who seemed to channel too freely in the presence of a superior. A ward though? A momentary lapse in his mask revealed something of curiosity, but following in their king's lead, those in nearby conversation, unaware of the Power's menace, assumed only a displeased demeanor from their ruler.

Saidin boiled. It was harder to contain, three separate strands over one. Worse when one was Air, but diverting focus from the easier to grasp folds of Fire made the task easy. His eyes darted as he crafted, but never far from their place on the cushions. A few seconds later and Jai leaned close enough to be appropriate for two people clearly attracted to one another so to speak low in her ear. His only warning was to hold her hand down with his. To keep her from jumping. To stay in role.

"If we appear to speak at volume but they can no longer hear us, they will suspect. And there are some present who know the convenience of wards."


Small wisps of her hair tickled his face. There was sweat there; beads where her hair met the side of her neck, clear as crystal in the summer sun he saw them. It made him wonder where else her pale skin slicked so. So sudden was the realization of heat it made him remember the concentration to ignore it. So automatic now after all these years, it was like suddenly reminding someone to remember to blink. It was all he could do to douse that flame back. The sweat was not the only reminder of the chasm between him and the woman so close he could see her breathing. No matter how fine the fabric, the black uniform seemed to disgrace the purity of her white robes, or tried to darken their only bands of color.

"He wants a permanent truce with the seanchan."


To aid the illusion, Jai used the excuse of a loosened bit of hair to tenderly stroke it into submission down her neck. Near his stroking, long lines moved under her skin and he could picture the musician flexing in them. Saidin thrashed inside in response, reminding him to not release it while so close to feminine skin. It enhanced the senses thrillingly. A lesson Jai learned early on.

"Suaya and his brother. A few others. Today's hunt the chance to win their support." He shifted rather than leaned closer. It took concentration to keep the storm of Saidin from forcing his words into harshness. Instead, they took on the sound of hunger. Of needing something worth everything he still believed in. Which wasn't much.

"That cannot happen."
Heavy was the proclamation as though the weary found a firm will for one last attempt to triumph.

It was quickly replaced. By hollowed vacancy. "Do you have ghosts, Nythadri?"
The question was serious as the grave. And when he leaned away from her ear, he laid this appeal before her captivating eyes.

It is said only the insane may judge reality. In this moment, Jai was as real as he knew how to be, revealing the view of a thousand condemned faces screaming from his own. While they existed, there could be no truce.