The Rahad, Ebou Dar [way, way too early in the morning, Taisham 19]
It was far, far too early in the morning when Mat had asked the servants (well, technically, when Elayne Sedai had asked the servants) to wake his friends and meet him in front of the palace prepared for trouble. The reason Mat had been dispatched to watch that house had been made clear when he'd wandered away from the tavern yesterday afternoon: a ta'veren swirl in the Pattern had made him to follow a woman who led him to building in the Rahad full of artifacts from the Age of Legends including, Elayne and Nynaeve were certain, the bowl that could fix the weather.
And if finding that bowl would get them out of Ebou Dar any faster, Mat was prepared to serve as a bloody floatation device to get them back across the river. During their boat ride over Nynaeve's Warder Lan (and her new husband too, which in Mat's estimation made the man potentially crazier than Rand) told him that while he'd been getting jumped by beggars, two of his men who'd been serving as Nynaeve's bodyguards had been killed by Moghedien, a bloody Forsaken. Which, naturally, Nynaeve and Elayne hadn't been going to tell him about. There was also no reason to believe that the Forsaken had left the city--especially if she knew about the cache of artifacts they'd found--leaving them wandering around like giant bloody targets.
Across the Rahad they walked: canals running everywhere, just as across the river, but here the bridges were plain, the stone parapets grimy and crumbling. A sour-sweet smell of decay permeated the air, last month's chamber pots and ancient refuse moldering where it had been flung, and for every fly on the other side of the Eldar, a hundred buzzed here in clouds of green and blue. The wind had kicked up and Mat began glancing around for a place to fall back to, if necessary, should the storm break before they’d returned to the palace. There wasn't a single building he would feel comfortable taking his friends into.
They finally stopped before a six-story structure that looked exactly like every other one in the Rahad. "In here," their guide said. Inside, a long hallway carpeted with dust ran dimly to the back, the far end lost in shadows. One opening, almost a third of the way down the hall, led to a narrow flight of steep stone steps. That was the way Mat had gone yesterday, following footprints in the dust, but he though some of those other openings must be corridors crossing. "Really, Mat," Nynaeve said when he told half of his men to find any back way in and guard it. Lan kept so close to her side he might have been glued there. "Don't you see there's no need?"
The dice were still rattling in his head. "Maybe Moghedien likes back doors," he said dryly. Something cluttered in the dark end of the hall, and one of the men cursed loudly about rats.
"You told him," Nynaeve breathed furiously at her husband, one hand snapping shut on braid. Elayne made an exasperated sound. "This is no time to stop for an argument, Nynaeve! The Bowl is upstairs! The Bowl of the Winds!" A small ball of light suddenly appeared, floating in front of her, and without waiting to see whether or not Nynaeve was coming, she gathered her skirts and darted up the stairs, their guide, Aravis, Kennedy, and several of Mat's soldiers following her. He would have been right behind her but Nynaeve was blocking his way. "Nynaeve? Lan?" Mat said. Neither so much as batted an eyelash at him.
"I would have told him when I was ready, Lan Mandragoran!" Her mouth clamped shut, but her lips writhed as though she were talking to herself. “I will not be angry with you,” she went on in a much milder tone.
"If you say so," Lan replied.
Nynaeve quivered. "Don’t you take that tone with me!" she shouted. “I tell you, I’m not angry! Do you hear me?"
"Blood and ashes, Nynaeve," Mat growled. "He doesn't think you're angry. I don't think you're angry.” Good thing he could lie with a straight face. “Could we go upstairs and fetch this bloody Bowl of the Winds?"
"A marvelous idea," said a woman’s voice from the door to the street. “Shall we go up together and surprise Elayne?” Mat had never seen the two women who walked into the hall before, but their faces were ageless Aes Sedai faces. The speaker’s was long and cold as her voice, her companion’s framed by scores of thin dark braids worked with colored beads.
Nearly two dozen men crowded in behind them, bulky fellows with heavy shoulders, clubs and knives in hand. Mat shifted his grip on the ashandarei; he knew trouble when he saw it, and the foxhead on his chest was cool, almost cold against his skin. Somebody was holding the One Power.
"They’re Black Ajah," Nynaeve said at last. Her voice started faint and gained strength, as she went on. "Falion Bhoda and Ispan Shefar. They committed murder in the Tower, and worse since. They’re Darkfriends, and..." Her voice faltered for an instant, "...they have me shielded."
The newcomers continued to advance serenely as Mat glanced toward Karla and Merlin, wondering if they'd also been shielded. "Have you ever heard such nonsense, Ispan?" the long-faced Aes Sedai asked her companion, who stopped grimacing at the dust long enough to smirk at Nynaeve. "Ispan and I come from the White Tower, while Nynaeve and her friends are rebels against the Amyrlin Seat. They’ll be punished severely for that, and so will anyone who helps them." With a shock, Mat realized the woman did not know; she thought that he and Lan and the others were just hired strongarms. Falion directed a smile at Nynaeve; it made a blizzard warm by comparison. "There’s someone who will be overjoyed to see you when we take you back, Nynaeve. She thinks you are dead. Better the rest of you go now. You don’t want to meddle in Aes Sedai affairs. My men will see you to the river." Without taking her eyes from Nynaeve, Falion motioned for the men behind her to come forward.
A cry, then another, came from upstairs. Nynaeve's eyes moved from the oncoming Black Sisters to Mat. "There's channeling upstairs," she said through her teeth. "That's trouble."
Mat hesitated. Mostly likely Elayne had seen a rat.
"Please, Mat," Nynaeve said tightly. She never begged. "Please."
With a curse, Mat sprinted for the stairs, Arthur on his heels.
Nynaeve glared for all she was worth at the two Black Ajah in front of her, then spared a look at Karla. "They're linked," she gritted out. "Help me."
Mat had not shared Merlin's secret and female channelers could no sooner discover a man's ability than a bird could teach a fish to fly, and Lan and Mat's soldiers, other than smacking into a barrier visible only to female channelers' eyes were busy fighting with the strongarms Falion and Ispan had brought with them.
Karla and Nynaeve had chatted a bit on the way over, enough for Karla to understand that the Aes Sedai meant the other two females were witches. In case Lan's crashing into a shield hadn't tipped her off already.
Rather than waste words and time, Karla responded by sending a blast of Sapphire power at them. It was like a hello, right?
Ispan staggered under Karla's attack, losing her concentration enough to drop the weave shielding Nynaeve.
"You're no Aes Sedai!" she spat, turning her attention toward Karla and trusting (as much as Black Ajah trusted anyone) Falion to deal with Nynaeve. "How did you do that?"
"Magic?" Merlin suggested helpfully, coming up by Karla's side. He took a deep breath and raised his hand toward her, letting a small but rapidly growing funnel of wind form nearly midway between them.
"I'm glad someone recognizes the obvious here," Karla said, flashing Merlin a grin. "And, no, I'm no Aes Sedai. I'm a proper witch."
That last wasn't a sardonic jab at Nynaeve or anything.
Ispan was far too focused on the wind funnel. Her face lost all color. "It's a man who can channel!" she stammered before regaining her self control. She lashed out with a weave aimed to cut this boy off from the Source forever.
And away that tornado went as Merlin was left scrambling for a shield of sorts. If that would even work against the weird--thingy coming from Ispan.
"I'm never going anywhere without my damned book again," he informed Karla, hand now back as if to shield his eyes from the sun.
"You should just strap it to your back from now on," Karla said. On a psychic thread, she added, *You okay? What happened to your windfunnel?*
Deciding to give the female something to think about something other than Merlin and his abilities, Karla flung a pair of Craft-driven knives at Ispan's head. Let her think about that for a little while.
Ispan threw up a shield of her own and gave a quick glance over at Falion and Nynaeve. It wasn't going well for Falion. So be it. The unworthy would fall before the Day of Return, and until Nynaeve started to attack Ispan herself, she would focus her attention on the two strangers before her.
It was that kind of teamwork that had served the Black Ajah so well.
She wove a nasty little thread and aimed it at the blonde girl. If it got through the shield, it would make her feel like she'd been set on fire.
*She was trying to do something to my magic* Merlin replied, frowning as the knives didn't connect. *How about we attack at the same time?*
It would be more helpful if he could see these spells like the women, but noooo.
Karla flung up shields of her own, unwilling to let anything that Ispan cast get near either of them. *Sounds like fun,* she said, narrowing her eyes. *They want to play with fire? Let's show them how it's done.*
See, this was why Merlin and Karla weren't allowed to collaborate. Other than the food poisoning that generally ensued, that is.
He moved his hand in a small circle, letting the air in front of it spark before bursting into flames. *Whenever you're ready.*
Because together they had more awesome than two people really ought?
Karla called in her witchfire, wreathing herself in it. *Remember that windfunnel? Let's try that again.*
Awesome and just a tiny bit murderous. Tiny bit.
*That's the best idea I've ever heard,* Merlin informed her, pushing the small ball of fire forward to accomplish just that.
Which wouldn't have looked exactly safe for the poor Black Ajah.
Panicking now, Ispan pushed more power into her shielding. "Help me, Falion!" she cried.
Falion, in true Black Ajah fashion, ignored the call for help.
This wasn't going to end well, was it?
Oh no, not at all. At least, not for her. Karla and Merlin were probably come out of this quite all right.
Karla sent her witchfire twining about Merlin's ball of flame, dancing and frolicking around in a manner that was almost unseemly for an encounter that could only end in death.
And then Merlin's windfunnel caught up with their attack, whipping them into a white-hot vortex of flame that bore down mercilessly on Ispan and her shield.
*We work together well,* Karla agreed, her psychic thread rife with dark amusement.
The funnel grew larger and larger with the addition of her witchfire, nearly blocking Ispan from sight. And, without drawing her fate out any longer, moved toward her with alarming speed.
*I think Arthur should be glad you haven't come to Camelot yet.*
Because things would happen then. Bad things.
Ispan gave a thin little scream as the funnel touched her, and that was the end of Ispan.
Nynaeve yanked at her braid and sniffed from where she was tying up the other Black Sister.
"That was certainly different."
Which meant she approved. If Nynaeve didn't approve, everyone in a three block radius would have known about it.
*It's the yet that terrifies him,* Karla replied to Merlin, a touch smug.
Aloud, to Nynaeve, she added, "We endeavor to be creative. It's what makes us such a terrifying dynamic team. Shall we head upstairs then? See what all that screaming was about?"
"Before Arthur gets himself bitten by something," Merlin added. The possibility always was there. No matter what.
"Or hit in the head," Karla muttered.
"...Not that he'd feel it."
Merlin gave her a look. "Be nice, Karla."
"I am!" Karla protested. "That was the least offensive thing I thought of!"
[OOC: Adapted from A Crown of Swords by Robert Jordan. Warnings for violence, extreme narrative length and gratuitous abuse of a Michael Cera PB. Preplayed with the amazing bitch_prince, bigdamndestiny, glacial_witch, notyetqueen, and brat_intraining. Thanks to all of you. NFB, NFI, OOC is love.]
And if finding that bowl would get them out of Ebou Dar any faster, Mat was prepared to serve as a bloody floatation device to get them back across the river. During their boat ride over Nynaeve's Warder Lan (and her new husband too, which in Mat's estimation made the man potentially crazier than Rand) told him that while he'd been getting jumped by beggars, two of his men who'd been serving as Nynaeve's bodyguards had been killed by Moghedien, a bloody Forsaken. Which, naturally, Nynaeve and Elayne hadn't been going to tell him about. There was also no reason to believe that the Forsaken had left the city--especially if she knew about the cache of artifacts they'd found--leaving them wandering around like giant bloody targets.
Across the Rahad they walked: canals running everywhere, just as across the river, but here the bridges were plain, the stone parapets grimy and crumbling. A sour-sweet smell of decay permeated the air, last month's chamber pots and ancient refuse moldering where it had been flung, and for every fly on the other side of the Eldar, a hundred buzzed here in clouds of green and blue. The wind had kicked up and Mat began glancing around for a place to fall back to, if necessary, should the storm break before they’d returned to the palace. There wasn't a single building he would feel comfortable taking his friends into.
They finally stopped before a six-story structure that looked exactly like every other one in the Rahad. "In here," their guide said. Inside, a long hallway carpeted with dust ran dimly to the back, the far end lost in shadows. One opening, almost a third of the way down the hall, led to a narrow flight of steep stone steps. That was the way Mat had gone yesterday, following footprints in the dust, but he though some of those other openings must be corridors crossing. "Really, Mat," Nynaeve said when he told half of his men to find any back way in and guard it. Lan kept so close to her side he might have been glued there. "Don't you see there's no need?"
The dice were still rattling in his head. "Maybe Moghedien likes back doors," he said dryly. Something cluttered in the dark end of the hall, and one of the men cursed loudly about rats.
"You told him," Nynaeve breathed furiously at her husband, one hand snapping shut on braid. Elayne made an exasperated sound. "This is no time to stop for an argument, Nynaeve! The Bowl is upstairs! The Bowl of the Winds!" A small ball of light suddenly appeared, floating in front of her, and without waiting to see whether or not Nynaeve was coming, she gathered her skirts and darted up the stairs, their guide, Aravis, Kennedy, and several of Mat's soldiers following her. He would have been right behind her but Nynaeve was blocking his way. "Nynaeve? Lan?" Mat said. Neither so much as batted an eyelash at him.
"I would have told him when I was ready, Lan Mandragoran!" Her mouth clamped shut, but her lips writhed as though she were talking to herself. “I will not be angry with you,” she went on in a much milder tone.
"If you say so," Lan replied.
Nynaeve quivered. "Don’t you take that tone with me!" she shouted. “I tell you, I’m not angry! Do you hear me?"
"Blood and ashes, Nynaeve," Mat growled. "He doesn't think you're angry. I don't think you're angry.” Good thing he could lie with a straight face. “Could we go upstairs and fetch this bloody Bowl of the Winds?"
"A marvelous idea," said a woman’s voice from the door to the street. “Shall we go up together and surprise Elayne?” Mat had never seen the two women who walked into the hall before, but their faces were ageless Aes Sedai faces. The speaker’s was long and cold as her voice, her companion’s framed by scores of thin dark braids worked with colored beads.
Nearly two dozen men crowded in behind them, bulky fellows with heavy shoulders, clubs and knives in hand. Mat shifted his grip on the ashandarei; he knew trouble when he saw it, and the foxhead on his chest was cool, almost cold against his skin. Somebody was holding the One Power.
"They’re Black Ajah," Nynaeve said at last. Her voice started faint and gained strength, as she went on. "Falion Bhoda and Ispan Shefar. They committed murder in the Tower, and worse since. They’re Darkfriends, and..." Her voice faltered for an instant, "...they have me shielded."
The newcomers continued to advance serenely as Mat glanced toward Karla and Merlin, wondering if they'd also been shielded. "Have you ever heard such nonsense, Ispan?" the long-faced Aes Sedai asked her companion, who stopped grimacing at the dust long enough to smirk at Nynaeve. "Ispan and I come from the White Tower, while Nynaeve and her friends are rebels against the Amyrlin Seat. They’ll be punished severely for that, and so will anyone who helps them." With a shock, Mat realized the woman did not know; she thought that he and Lan and the others were just hired strongarms. Falion directed a smile at Nynaeve; it made a blizzard warm by comparison. "There’s someone who will be overjoyed to see you when we take you back, Nynaeve. She thinks you are dead. Better the rest of you go now. You don’t want to meddle in Aes Sedai affairs. My men will see you to the river." Without taking her eyes from Nynaeve, Falion motioned for the men behind her to come forward.
A cry, then another, came from upstairs. Nynaeve's eyes moved from the oncoming Black Sisters to Mat. "There's channeling upstairs," she said through her teeth. "That's trouble."
Mat hesitated. Mostly likely Elayne had seen a rat.
"Please, Mat," Nynaeve said tightly. She never begged. "Please."
With a curse, Mat sprinted for the stairs, Arthur on his heels.
Nynaeve glared for all she was worth at the two Black Ajah in front of her, then spared a look at Karla. "They're linked," she gritted out. "Help me."
Mat had not shared Merlin's secret and female channelers could no sooner discover a man's ability than a bird could teach a fish to fly, and Lan and Mat's soldiers, other than smacking into a barrier visible only to female channelers' eyes were busy fighting with the strongarms Falion and Ispan had brought with them.
Karla and Nynaeve had chatted a bit on the way over, enough for Karla to understand that the Aes Sedai meant the other two females were witches. In case Lan's crashing into a shield hadn't tipped her off already.
Rather than waste words and time, Karla responded by sending a blast of Sapphire power at them. It was like a hello, right?
Ispan staggered under Karla's attack, losing her concentration enough to drop the weave shielding Nynaeve.
"You're no Aes Sedai!" she spat, turning her attention toward Karla and trusting (as much as Black Ajah trusted anyone) Falion to deal with Nynaeve. "How did you do that?"
"Magic?" Merlin suggested helpfully, coming up by Karla's side. He took a deep breath and raised his hand toward her, letting a small but rapidly growing funnel of wind form nearly midway between them.
"I'm glad someone recognizes the obvious here," Karla said, flashing Merlin a grin. "And, no, I'm no Aes Sedai. I'm a proper witch."
That last wasn't a sardonic jab at Nynaeve or anything.
Ispan was far too focused on the wind funnel. Her face lost all color. "It's a man who can channel!" she stammered before regaining her self control. She lashed out with a weave aimed to cut this boy off from the Source forever.
And away that tornado went as Merlin was left scrambling for a shield of sorts. If that would even work against the weird--thingy coming from Ispan.
"I'm never going anywhere without my damned book again," he informed Karla, hand now back as if to shield his eyes from the sun.
"You should just strap it to your back from now on," Karla said. On a psychic thread, she added, *You okay? What happened to your windfunnel?*
Deciding to give the female something to think about something other than Merlin and his abilities, Karla flung a pair of Craft-driven knives at Ispan's head. Let her think about that for a little while.
Ispan threw up a shield of her own and gave a quick glance over at Falion and Nynaeve. It wasn't going well for Falion. So be it. The unworthy would fall before the Day of Return, and until Nynaeve started to attack Ispan herself, she would focus her attention on the two strangers before her.
It was that kind of teamwork that had served the Black Ajah so well.
She wove a nasty little thread and aimed it at the blonde girl. If it got through the shield, it would make her feel like she'd been set on fire.
*She was trying to do something to my magic* Merlin replied, frowning as the knives didn't connect. *How about we attack at the same time?*
It would be more helpful if he could see these spells like the women, but noooo.
Karla flung up shields of her own, unwilling to let anything that Ispan cast get near either of them. *Sounds like fun,* she said, narrowing her eyes. *They want to play with fire? Let's show them how it's done.*
See, this was why Merlin and Karla weren't allowed to collaborate. Other than the food poisoning that generally ensued, that is.
He moved his hand in a small circle, letting the air in front of it spark before bursting into flames. *Whenever you're ready.*
Because together they had more awesome than two people really ought?
Karla called in her witchfire, wreathing herself in it. *Remember that windfunnel? Let's try that again.*
Awesome and just a tiny bit murderous. Tiny bit.
*That's the best idea I've ever heard,* Merlin informed her, pushing the small ball of fire forward to accomplish just that.
Which wouldn't have looked exactly safe for the poor Black Ajah.
Panicking now, Ispan pushed more power into her shielding. "Help me, Falion!" she cried.
Falion, in true Black Ajah fashion, ignored the call for help.
This wasn't going to end well, was it?
Oh no, not at all. At least, not for her. Karla and Merlin were probably come out of this quite all right.
Karla sent her witchfire twining about Merlin's ball of flame, dancing and frolicking around in a manner that was almost unseemly for an encounter that could only end in death.
And then Merlin's windfunnel caught up with their attack, whipping them into a white-hot vortex of flame that bore down mercilessly on Ispan and her shield.
*We work together well,* Karla agreed, her psychic thread rife with dark amusement.
The funnel grew larger and larger with the addition of her witchfire, nearly blocking Ispan from sight. And, without drawing her fate out any longer, moved toward her with alarming speed.
*I think Arthur should be glad you haven't come to Camelot yet.*
Because things would happen then. Bad things.
Ispan gave a thin little scream as the funnel touched her, and that was the end of Ispan.
Nynaeve yanked at her braid and sniffed from where she was tying up the other Black Sister.
"That was certainly different."
Which meant she approved. If Nynaeve didn't approve, everyone in a three block radius would have known about it.
*It's the yet that terrifies him,* Karla replied to Merlin, a touch smug.
Aloud, to Nynaeve, she added, "We endeavor to be creative. It's what makes us such a terrifying dynamic team. Shall we head upstairs then? See what all that screaming was about?"
"Before Arthur gets himself bitten by something," Merlin added. The possibility always was there. No matter what.
"Or hit in the head," Karla muttered.
"...Not that he'd feel it."
Merlin gave her a look. "Be nice, Karla."
"I am!" Karla protested. "That was the least offensive thing I thought of!"
[OOC: Adapted from A Crown of Swords by Robert Jordan. Warnings for violence, extreme narrative length and gratuitous abuse of a Michael Cera PB. Preplayed with the amazing bitch_prince, bigdamndestiny, glacial_witch, notyetqueen, and brat_intraining. Thanks to all of you. NFB, NFI, OOC is love.]