09-21-2016, 03:24 PM
A hand on her shoulder, soft as butterfly wings. But the voice that accompanied it was more akin to the sting of a scorpion, and Nythadri’s heart sunk. “Dearest Nythadri.”
Nisele’s smile was genuine, but it was a glee that dripped the poison of an unexpected advantage over an enemy. “Am I to understand you are not quite the equestrian? Allow me to assist. Aes Sedai, if I may? I know the horses here, I’ll find her one soft as butter...”
~*~
Within the soft shadows of the stables, Nisele’s perfume mingled sickeningly with the scent of hay and manure. The woman fluttered mindless pleasantries as they walked, but beneath the civility her tongue was a sharp as a blade. Light burn Liridia for nodding so blandly to the Lady’s offer! Perhaps all that talk of snakes had been utterly literal after all, if the Brown so readily handed her off into such hostile company. There had to be a way to talk her way out of accepting Nisele’s help, but already they had come to pause by a stall, the horse within whickering softly at the women who came to stand in audience. Nythadri’s eyes flickered the briefest of appraisals – what did she even kid herself she was even looking for?! - and came to settle on the animal’s disagreeably intelligent eyes.
“The gentlest of horses. You’ll hardly know he is beneath you.”
Nisele stroked the beast’s long red nose as it leaned out over its stable, laughing as the animal snuffled into her neck. A slender gold finger heralded one of the hands, a young boy with something questionable smeared on one unknowing cheek who came as though the domani had whistled a dog. “This one for the Accepted.”
Her smile was sweet, and accompanied by another falsely fond touch of the arm. Nythadri began to regret the foundations she had laid, now that they turned on her. “No need to thank me.”
Something flashed darkly, and the Lady was gone.
Nythadri watched mistrustfully as the stable-hand readied her mount, observing every casual toss of its head like she expected it would suddenly buck control. She could not fault the horse, but she did not trust Nisele’s sugary sweetness. Or her own amateur eye. “Tell me,”
she said to the boy. “Is this really a good horse?”
Bu any reply was stunted by heavy footsteps and a smooth masculine tone.
“A word, Accepted.”
She didn’t know him, aside from having seen him amongst the other nobles during the reception, but he introduced himself with a courteous bow of the head. “Antony Sadiq.”
Nythadri nodded, watching as he made a gesture and the stable-hand led the horse outside. He waited until both were out of sight before he spoke. “Forgive this distasteful manner of subterfuge, but needs must. I’ve a favour to ask, if you’ll hear it.”
I have a choice? She nodded, faintly wearied.
“It concerns Asha’man Kojima, in that I am concerned for him. The lad is…”
he paused, clearly deciding the best way to phrase whatever it was he wished to impart.
“Delusional? Unstable? Paranoid? This isn’t going to be some friendly advice, is it?”
She interrupted his thoughtful silence drolly, wary of mistaking his stern and decorous manner for wisdom. The most dangerous players were often the ones who garnered a sense of trust, and she half suspected he had come to warn her away from Jai out of a sense of chivalrous duty.
A frown. “On the contrary, Accepted. Asha’man Kojima has valid reason to be suspicious. There was a message intercepted by my men a few days ago, suggesting that his presence here today is undesirable. You must understand that I am somewhat hesitant to give detail, but I suspect thought of a conspiracy will be… troubling for him, at best.”
“With all respect, I don’t know what you expect me to do…”
“If there were a way to distract him. A way to inject some rationality.”
His gaze suggested purpose, but he appeared reluctant to speak – rather waiting for her to understand his almost uncomfortable pause. Their performance at the reception. He thinks we’re lovers. She paused herself for a moment, considering. She owed Jai nothing, but neither did she wish him ill. Imaad, on the other hand. “He doesn’t trust me. I fear you’re building hopes on sand. But I’ll try.”
He nodded, and turned. It was on impulse she decided to share her own information, saidar burning bright in the few moments it took to make sure the words calling after him were for his ears only.
“It’s Imaad. Your snake in the grass. I’d wager anything on it.”
The stable-hand was waiting patiently outside, the horse gleaming scarlet like fire in the streaming sunshine. She approached them both warily. “I have no idea what I’m doing,”
she hissed, but the boy’s only reaction was to kneel in the dirt and cup his hands to aid her mount. Oh, Light preserve me! Somewhere Nisele’s liquid dark eyes watched gleefully, she knew it, but Nythadri pulled herself up onto the horse anyway, praying one did not forget such things as riding. To its credit the creature did not move despite her tentative touch. Once safely astride, her fingers tangled in the reins, it danced a little in reaction to her nerves, but seemed suspiciously as compliant as Nisele had suggested. She pressed her palm against its neck, warm as the colour suggested in the summer sun. “We’re going to be friends, right? Sugar lumps, apples – name your poison, so long as you don’t throw me off.”
When she straightened there was a commotion of whispers emanating from the stable’s entrance, and Jai emerged at is centre. A razor? He had mentioned a bet, and Fate had mentioned a ride, but she had not guessed at this. If she was more gracious she might have tried to hide the amused smile, but the image of the austere Asha’man on such a pompous beast tickled her humour so that she almost outright laughed. Until she caught that look, and her stomach sunk as fast as lead. Her gaze followed him as he rode off, and she was not the only one. Imaad raised his flask.
“I’d bank on this being a fortuitous hunt. Care to take a wager on it, Tamal? Jai]?”
He smirked, calling after the Asha’man as he passed, and laughing when the man ignored him.
~*~
She rode with Lirida and Keren for a while, mindlessly absorbing the Aes Sedai’s observations of the behaviour and anatomy of antelope. But her attention centred upon Imaad riding ahead, deep in mirthful conversation with Nisele. What the woman said was lost to the faint breeze, but Imaad spoke loudly. The level of his voice might have suggested he felt the influence of the golden liquid he carried in his flask, but there was a vicious awareness that denied that possibility. Whatever his pretences, he was aware of every word.
“… golden in beauty, but sly as a fox – or so she thought. Not everyone needs a man to oversee every balance sheet!”
Imaad said nothing of consequence, at least not insofar as Nythadri could detect, but he glanced often at Jai with the slyest tilt of the head. It was a goad that should have been easy for Jai to ignore, but the nuances of his reactions did not indicate a man turning his back on provocation. Wrapped in himself, the world beyond an enemy, he looked just as he had in the White Tower’s hall. She blinked, on the edge of an epiphany ignited by Antony’s request. Though he gave no outward sign of it, she could almost hear him counting. "The lad is..." Antony had never even finished his sentence, but the quiet deliberation of his words spoke volumes. She suddenly realised how wrong she had been about the anomaly she had dubbed a gift. At the time it had seemed that way – a man who saw mathematical poetry as quickly and effortlessly as she composed music. Now it seemed sinisterly obsessive.
She spurred her horse on cautiously, testing her control of beast she was loath to trust despite their deal, until she grew level with the Asha’man; conveniently blocking view the merchant behind, if not the ostentatious volume of his voice.
“I hope you’re going to crack a smile, Jai. This whole ordeal has been tortuous enough already - don’t make it worse by leaving it to me to be the only one with a bloody sense of humour.”
Despite the joking mockery of her words, she did not smile herself. If anything her gaze was intense. People often found it hard to resist that stare; whether it made them uncomfortable, drew them like a moth to flame, or even made them irritable that she should be so bold. There was the faintest hint of demand to her – as well there should be towards a man who presented tentative steps of trust one moment and cast suspicious glances the next. Beside the point that she knew what had disturbed him.
She waited until she had his attention – or enough of it at least – before the stillness of her face lapsed to a devilish smirk. “Are you sulking because you look ridiculous? Because you do look ridiculous, you know. Not that I don’t appreciate the finer point, but…”
Behind she could hear wafts of Imaad’s voice. Tar Valon. The words caught her own ears, and soon so did the voicing of her own name.
“Tell us, Nythadri, are the streets of Tar Valon paved in gold? Are its people all as rich as bankers?”
She threw an acidic answer over her shoulder, but did not turn. “I’m sure a merchant of such repute and wealth as you knows plenty enough about the Shining City.”
I'll make you dance. Now more than ever the threat crawled under her skin.
“Light-blasted man. How do I make this thing go faster?”
Murmured to herself, tone laced with exasperation as she looked to the heavens. But she daren’t push the horse yet; not until she could be more certain of its temperament. In the end she settled for sidestepping closer to the razor, to distance those conversations behind. But the scarlet beast did not take to this kindly, tossing its head and flattening its ears. Light! She jerked the reins but her red had already taken a swiping bite in the razor’s direction. Its feet were stamping, its breath snorting, but it seemed content to move away. A moment of wide-eyed consternation later, she realised how she had been outmanoeuvred. Behind her sounded the silvery laugh of a domani lady, and she did not think it was Imaad who had cracked the joke. She looked to Jai. “Nisele. Light burn the woman, she chose my bloody horse.”
Nisele’s smile was genuine, but it was a glee that dripped the poison of an unexpected advantage over an enemy. “Am I to understand you are not quite the equestrian? Allow me to assist. Aes Sedai, if I may? I know the horses here, I’ll find her one soft as butter...”
~*~
Within the soft shadows of the stables, Nisele’s perfume mingled sickeningly with the scent of hay and manure. The woman fluttered mindless pleasantries as they walked, but beneath the civility her tongue was a sharp as a blade. Light burn Liridia for nodding so blandly to the Lady’s offer! Perhaps all that talk of snakes had been utterly literal after all, if the Brown so readily handed her off into such hostile company. There had to be a way to talk her way out of accepting Nisele’s help, but already they had come to pause by a stall, the horse within whickering softly at the women who came to stand in audience. Nythadri’s eyes flickered the briefest of appraisals – what did she even kid herself she was even looking for?! - and came to settle on the animal’s disagreeably intelligent eyes.
“The gentlest of horses. You’ll hardly know he is beneath you.”
Nisele stroked the beast’s long red nose as it leaned out over its stable, laughing as the animal snuffled into her neck. A slender gold finger heralded one of the hands, a young boy with something questionable smeared on one unknowing cheek who came as though the domani had whistled a dog. “This one for the Accepted.”
Her smile was sweet, and accompanied by another falsely fond touch of the arm. Nythadri began to regret the foundations she had laid, now that they turned on her. “No need to thank me.”
Something flashed darkly, and the Lady was gone.
Nythadri watched mistrustfully as the stable-hand readied her mount, observing every casual toss of its head like she expected it would suddenly buck control. She could not fault the horse, but she did not trust Nisele’s sugary sweetness. Or her own amateur eye. “Tell me,”
she said to the boy. “Is this really a good horse?”
Bu any reply was stunted by heavy footsteps and a smooth masculine tone.
“A word, Accepted.”
She didn’t know him, aside from having seen him amongst the other nobles during the reception, but he introduced himself with a courteous bow of the head. “Antony Sadiq.”
Nythadri nodded, watching as he made a gesture and the stable-hand led the horse outside. He waited until both were out of sight before he spoke. “Forgive this distasteful manner of subterfuge, but needs must. I’ve a favour to ask, if you’ll hear it.”
I have a choice? She nodded, faintly wearied.
“It concerns Asha’man Kojima, in that I am concerned for him. The lad is…”
he paused, clearly deciding the best way to phrase whatever it was he wished to impart.
“Delusional? Unstable? Paranoid? This isn’t going to be some friendly advice, is it?”
She interrupted his thoughtful silence drolly, wary of mistaking his stern and decorous manner for wisdom. The most dangerous players were often the ones who garnered a sense of trust, and she half suspected he had come to warn her away from Jai out of a sense of chivalrous duty.
A frown. “On the contrary, Accepted. Asha’man Kojima has valid reason to be suspicious. There was a message intercepted by my men a few days ago, suggesting that his presence here today is undesirable. You must understand that I am somewhat hesitant to give detail, but I suspect thought of a conspiracy will be… troubling for him, at best.”
“With all respect, I don’t know what you expect me to do…”
“If there were a way to distract him. A way to inject some rationality.”
His gaze suggested purpose, but he appeared reluctant to speak – rather waiting for her to understand his almost uncomfortable pause. Their performance at the reception. He thinks we’re lovers. She paused herself for a moment, considering. She owed Jai nothing, but neither did she wish him ill. Imaad, on the other hand. “He doesn’t trust me. I fear you’re building hopes on sand. But I’ll try.”
He nodded, and turned. It was on impulse she decided to share her own information, saidar burning bright in the few moments it took to make sure the words calling after him were for his ears only.
“It’s Imaad. Your snake in the grass. I’d wager anything on it.”
The stable-hand was waiting patiently outside, the horse gleaming scarlet like fire in the streaming sunshine. She approached them both warily. “I have no idea what I’m doing,”
she hissed, but the boy’s only reaction was to kneel in the dirt and cup his hands to aid her mount. Oh, Light preserve me! Somewhere Nisele’s liquid dark eyes watched gleefully, she knew it, but Nythadri pulled herself up onto the horse anyway, praying one did not forget such things as riding. To its credit the creature did not move despite her tentative touch. Once safely astride, her fingers tangled in the reins, it danced a little in reaction to her nerves, but seemed suspiciously as compliant as Nisele had suggested. She pressed her palm against its neck, warm as the colour suggested in the summer sun. “We’re going to be friends, right? Sugar lumps, apples – name your poison, so long as you don’t throw me off.”
When she straightened there was a commotion of whispers emanating from the stable’s entrance, and Jai emerged at is centre. A razor? He had mentioned a bet, and Fate had mentioned a ride, but she had not guessed at this. If she was more gracious she might have tried to hide the amused smile, but the image of the austere Asha’man on such a pompous beast tickled her humour so that she almost outright laughed. Until she caught that look, and her stomach sunk as fast as lead. Her gaze followed him as he rode off, and she was not the only one. Imaad raised his flask.
“I’d bank on this being a fortuitous hunt. Care to take a wager on it, Tamal? Jai]?”
He smirked, calling after the Asha’man as he passed, and laughing when the man ignored him.
~*~
She rode with Lirida and Keren for a while, mindlessly absorbing the Aes Sedai’s observations of the behaviour and anatomy of antelope. But her attention centred upon Imaad riding ahead, deep in mirthful conversation with Nisele. What the woman said was lost to the faint breeze, but Imaad spoke loudly. The level of his voice might have suggested he felt the influence of the golden liquid he carried in his flask, but there was a vicious awareness that denied that possibility. Whatever his pretences, he was aware of every word.
“… golden in beauty, but sly as a fox – or so she thought. Not everyone needs a man to oversee every balance sheet!”
Imaad said nothing of consequence, at least not insofar as Nythadri could detect, but he glanced often at Jai with the slyest tilt of the head. It was a goad that should have been easy for Jai to ignore, but the nuances of his reactions did not indicate a man turning his back on provocation. Wrapped in himself, the world beyond an enemy, he looked just as he had in the White Tower’s hall. She blinked, on the edge of an epiphany ignited by Antony’s request. Though he gave no outward sign of it, she could almost hear him counting. "The lad is..." Antony had never even finished his sentence, but the quiet deliberation of his words spoke volumes. She suddenly realised how wrong she had been about the anomaly she had dubbed a gift. At the time it had seemed that way – a man who saw mathematical poetry as quickly and effortlessly as she composed music. Now it seemed sinisterly obsessive.
She spurred her horse on cautiously, testing her control of beast she was loath to trust despite their deal, until she grew level with the Asha’man; conveniently blocking view the merchant behind, if not the ostentatious volume of his voice.
“I hope you’re going to crack a smile, Jai. This whole ordeal has been tortuous enough already - don’t make it worse by leaving it to me to be the only one with a bloody sense of humour.”
Despite the joking mockery of her words, she did not smile herself. If anything her gaze was intense. People often found it hard to resist that stare; whether it made them uncomfortable, drew them like a moth to flame, or even made them irritable that she should be so bold. There was the faintest hint of demand to her – as well there should be towards a man who presented tentative steps of trust one moment and cast suspicious glances the next. Beside the point that she knew what had disturbed him.
She waited until she had his attention – or enough of it at least – before the stillness of her face lapsed to a devilish smirk. “Are you sulking because you look ridiculous? Because you do look ridiculous, you know. Not that I don’t appreciate the finer point, but…”
Behind she could hear wafts of Imaad’s voice. Tar Valon. The words caught her own ears, and soon so did the voicing of her own name.
“Tell us, Nythadri, are the streets of Tar Valon paved in gold? Are its people all as rich as bankers?”
She threw an acidic answer over her shoulder, but did not turn. “I’m sure a merchant of such repute and wealth as you knows plenty enough about the Shining City.”
I'll make you dance. Now more than ever the threat crawled under her skin.
“Light-blasted man. How do I make this thing go faster?”
Murmured to herself, tone laced with exasperation as she looked to the heavens. But she daren’t push the horse yet; not until she could be more certain of its temperament. In the end she settled for sidestepping closer to the razor, to distance those conversations behind. But the scarlet beast did not take to this kindly, tossing its head and flattening its ears. Light! She jerked the reins but her red had already taken a swiping bite in the razor’s direction. Its feet were stamping, its breath snorting, but it seemed content to move away. A moment of wide-eyed consternation later, she realised how she had been outmanoeuvred. Behind her sounded the silvery laugh of a domani lady, and she did not think it was Imaad who had cracked the joke. She looked to Jai. “Nisele. Light burn the woman, she chose my bloody horse.”