“Payment in Kind”, Part 1

Wherein a spider patiently weaves her web of intrigue and ensnares its first victim…

Cadaela sat cross-legged on the floor across the hall from her private office. She stared at her office door intently, looking for any sign of it. The smooth stones seemed to stretch on uninterrupted between the two doors on either side. A rather stunning floor lamp appeared suddenly, just in front of the spot where the doorknob would give away the illusion if anyone happened notice the strange invisible lump on the wall. The lamp was woven of Air, with small tongues of Fire flickering atop its three mirrored wicks. An Illusion, spun from Fire, made the invisible lamp turn gold, and inverting all the weaves hid them from other Aes Sedai. All but the flames. A continually burning lamp that did not seem to be of the Power would draw attention. She climbed stiffly to her feet and sought her apartments with weary enthusiasm. She had been some hours constructing the intricate illusion that hid the door, and it was almost morning. It did not truly matter anyway; wards protected the door and the more precious objects inside. She wondered idly what would happen if she masked her formal office door in such away, and laughed a little at the thought.

Davian would wake when she came in. What would have been merely a certainty with the bond became inevitable when one considered her husband’s wolf-senses. Which, now, she had to. But Jain…perhaps Jain would stay asleep. She thought of her husband and smiled. She fervently hoped her son would not wake up. In fact, she sent a slight tremor along the bond as she drew near, shivering a little both in anticipation and the chill of night-cold stone.

Anticipation lasted until the book crossed her mind again. The last chapter, a stunning conclusion to the compilation, was an account of several murders, mostly taken straight from Zaria Sedai’s article. There were other notes, though. Informal interviews with Blue, Green and Red sisters, answers so subtly drawn out that the speakers often did not realize they had been asked. It was the only “Treaty with the Shadow” ever close enough to home for Corwin Asha’man to get such answers, and it was far too close for Cadaela’s tastes. She would have questioned Corwin’s uncanny successes, but he was no longer alive to be questioned. Perhaps that event, Corwin’s death, was something worth looking into, as well. A dangerous book, Corwin’s. Exceptionally dangerous. Cadaela gave herself a mental shake and pushed open the door to the apartments she shared with her little family, forcing a smile before going to bed.

* * *

It was midday when Cadaela awoke. Bright sunlight flooded the room through the floor-to-ceiling windows that ran along the northwest wall, hindered hardly at all by the thin silk drapes. One pale hand came up to shield dilated eyes. It had been a long time since she had seen the midday sun.

Cadaela took a long time bathing. The night’s pursuits had left her feeling soiled, both in body and soul, and a long soak helped wash away the sensation. She dressed in a gown very unlike the one she had worn to the Gray’s library. Where that one had been heavy velvet to absorb sound and dust alike, this was filmy silk the colour of dark copper, the skirts divided for riding and whispering against each other at every step. The bodice stopped just under her breasts, and was embroidered with a few tiny red flowers. The sleeves were long and full, nearly hiding her pale hands, just as the skirts hid all but the toes of her silken slippers. Her hair, the day before, had been pinned up to avoid the betraying sound of the beads she usually wore. Today, it hung in long, thin braids, each adorned with a copper bead, and they swayed and clinked as she moved.

Having Cara’cand saddled took very little time, and Cadaela was mounted and riding through a Gateway only half an hour after emerging from her bath. It would have been sooner, but for taking the time to dissolve the Illusion that hid her private office, collect her notes and Corwin’s book, and replace the usual wards on door and window. Now, her fringed shawl tucked into a saddlebag and a brown velvet cloak settled on her shoulders, she rode into the city of Tolmara.

Liriane Tynaeus’ mansion stood on a small rise near the entrance to the Arcanus Quarter. The former Imperial, who thought herself an expert at court intrigue, was living in Tolmara to avoid assassins hired by a former rival. Her brother had provided her with ample money to live out her life in comfort on the other side of the civilized world. Her brother also had an extensive library in the family’s ancestral home in Orend. A library that contained several volumes Cadaela would have liked to look over. Her plan for the day was simple: to blackmail Liriane, threatening to provide her whereabouts to her rival should she fail to write a suitable letter of introduction to her brother, allowing Cadaela entry to the family library.

At Liriane’s house, Cadaela was ushered into a somewhat garishly decorated sitting room featuring mismatched pieces of lovely Cyradi furniture. The furniture would have been all right if it had not all been intricately carved and gilded in Imperial fashion. No thought to matching anything but cost had been put into decorating the room, and the result was something like the way a mercantile might decorate a room, if one ever abandoned his wagon. She was served cool tea and stale biscuits, and made to wait a good deal longer than she was accustomed to being made to wait. When Liriane finally made her appearance, Cadaela was silently calculating the benefits of allowing the rival to do away with the woman whether she got her letter or not. It would probably be viewed as a contribution to society.

“Welcome, Aes Sedai,” she said in a low, breathy voice. She wore a gown of Cyradian cut, but dark in the Tolmari fashion. Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in the tower of curls typical in Tolmara. “Would you like some more tea?”

“No, thank you Liriane,” Cadaela replied, not having finished her first cup yet. “Please, be seated.”

“May I ask why you’ve called, Aes Sedai?” Liriane gritted her teeth at being granted permission to sit in her own house.

Cadaela smiled coolly. “You may.”

There was a brief silence, broken by uneasy laughter from Liriane.

“Why?”

“A mutual friend of ours,” Cadaela began, smiling slightly. “She was asking me if I knew how she could find you. I thought I would come by and ask whether you wanted to be found.”

“A mutual friend.” Liriane’s voice was very flat and somewhat faint now. “Does this friend have a name?”

“Why, Melisande, of course.”

If her face hadn’t been a mask of Aes Sedai serenity, Cadaela’s smile would have grown quite vicious. Instead, it became rather sweet and innocent looking. Liriane’s face paled visibly, though she fought to hide it.

“I…see,” she stammered, searching Cadaela’s face for some indication of her intentions. It was obvious enough she meant to blackmail her, but she could not fathom what the Aes Sedai wanted from her. “What…? What did you tell her?”

“Oh, this and that. It’s not really important. Now, your brother, his library….”

“This is about books?” Liriane cried, quite nearly losing her composure.

“Please don’t interrupt,” Cadaela murmured. “I’m sure one of your stable boys has burned hands by now from trying to open my saddlebags. Don’t tell me you allowed him to stop before he succeeded? No, of course not. So you know that I am of the Brown Ajah. Your brother, he must allow me to use his library. You will write a letter to him, begging him to open the library to your dear friend. Really, it is only polite for you to do so, isn’t it, Liriane?”

And if you don’t, I’ll tell Melisande Tarquinius where you are. The words hung suspended in the air for all that they remained unspoken.

“We understand each other, don’t we?”

“Y…yes, Aes Sedai. Of course.” Liriane tugged on a silken cord that hung near her chair, and a maid appeared in the doorway a moment later. “Fetch my writing things at once,” she snapped, and the girl scurried out again.

“I’m so glad we worked things out, Liriane,” Cadaela remarked, smiling again.

(to be continued)

“Marath’damane”, Part 6

Wherein a former damane’s thoughts turn to the world around her…

Through the night the rains fell in a constant tapping, evolving drips that ran off the oiled skin strung up as shelter. Alicia pretended to sleep, the Warder’s colorshifting cloak wrapped around her for warmth. The cloudless, punishing sun from the day before had been blown out like a candle, replaced by a raging tempest out to scour away the entire world. She shivered as the midsummer heat slipped into memory more quickly than seemed possible. The tiny fire in the middle of the hollow helped dull some of the chill, but not nearly enough for her to entirely ignore it. Whenever Bedevir returned to lay more tinder on the fire, Alicia squeezed her eyes shut and made herself breathe deeply. She could not say where he found wood dry enough to burn, but he did.

The Warder and his Aes Sedai did not match her notion of what they were supposed to be. She knew Aes Sedai as untouchable women. They walked tall and serene and radiated a powerful aura that warned against even the slightest misstep. They were majestic to the point of inspiring awe. Their Warders were always lean, deadly men with the cadence of wolves and the vision of falcons, seeing every corner, knowing every danger. People like that could be picked out of a crowd at a glance, which was why Aes Sedai advised royalty more or less for fun and none dared mess with a Warder unless they were bored of living. Before the Seanchan came, Alicia had gotten plenty of opportunities to see Aes Sedai wandering Zharoel. She knew what the serpent ring looked like and expected the lavish clothing.

If Alicia had not seen Bedevir dispatch six men single-handedly, she would never have believed he was a Warder, not even when he still wore the cloak he had given her. His gray hair made him too old, his lined face too jovial and his lack of weaponry far too benevolent. If she had passed him on the street, she probably would have tried to pick his pocket. He was a large enough man to scare away most footpads on principle, but not visibly a brute or a killer. However, his bluish-green eyes gazed very deeply, no matter how gentle his smile.

The Aes Sedai herself, Egraine, was an enigma. Without the ageless face, she belonged in an asylum. With the ageless face, she belonged someplace on the other side of the world — in an asylum. Alicia did not understand most of what the woman said when her mouth opened, as if she were speaking in tongues. It occurred to her, perhaps for the first time ever, that some women probably needed to be fit with an a’dam just to keep them from doing themselves harm. She chastised herself for that thought; Egraine had yet to show even an ounce of cruelty. What bothered Alicia most was that the word “meek” simply did not belong in the same sentence as the name “Aes Sedai.” Despite her peculiarity, if Egraine pulled up her hood to hide her agelessness, the small, faintly brass-skinned woman would have vanished into a crowd by sheer lack of grandeur. Together, seen randomly on the street, this Aes Sedai and her Warder could have passed as a middle aged husband shepherding his gloomy wife.

Alicia pretended to sleep, bundled in the cold. The Warder saw through her too easily with his sharp eyes and the unusual Aes Sedai seemed only to feed his deductions. If she feigned, Alicia thought perhaps she could hide herself from them for a time longer. If it had been any Aes Sedai but this one, would they have known her immediately? Between kinswomen, Seanchan, Aire and Aes Sedai, she had had more than enough of channeling women.

She knew the Seanchan were coming. She could feel them out there, growing steadily closer. She could feel the pain, as if being flagellated her whole body over, could feel her skin pealing free in a pot of boiling oil. A hundred awful things she could feel coming ever closer. She bundled herself tighter and set the sensations out of her mind, set the pain aside even as it blistered through her. With distance it was easier, but the distance was closing. If she threw off the cloak and ran, the Warder would have her on the instant, but she wanted to run.

The night passed in fits and starts. She remembered a jigsaw puzzle of moments with water dripping or dancing shadows from the flickering fire. The Warder lurked awake throughout, in and out of the small shelter. Alicia remembered shards of his broad, tired face staring down at her in contemplation. When she forgot herself, she dozed.

She gasped in agony and awoke, flames burning through to her bones. Her breath came out in sharp, punctuated rasps. The sensation had been so real and close. Her heart thundered in her ears. Gray fingers of light reached through the low hanging clouds in a vague announcement of morning. Rain continued to fall in a lulling rhythm. The edge of the colorshifting cloak soaked through from a rivulet running into the hollow, causing her to shiver. She propped herself up on her elbows and blinked sleep from her eyes. Blackened remains from the fire still smoked. The two horses stood beside the hollow, heads down under the drenching, soft whinnies and grunts traded to each other. The Aes Sedai and Warder stood out in the drizzle, well away from the shelter. Alicia could hear his baritone voice carrying without being able to distinguish his words. The hood of her white fringed cloak raised, the Aes Sedai gazed into the distance and answered whatever he told her with a word or two.

(to be continued)