Palaver [closed]

[silhouette]

 

“Is everything in place?”

 

The darkfriend looked at her for a moment, apparently measuring her worth before responding. “The White Tower hag is chained in the wagon. The other one is in the shed, like the lady commanded.” The man was clueless, but that was alright. It merely meant that the disguise worked. She pushed back her hood, shedding the Saidar-made glamour that had turned her into a short blond woman. Instead the Darkfriend was now facing a dark haired woman from Mayene. A woman he knew as ‘the lady’, someone who could and would turn him inside out should he mess things up.

 

He saluted clumsily, but Nyssa had already dismissed him from her thoughts. “You will see to it that I am not disturbed when I question the warrior.”

 

“The warrior? I thought you’d want to start with the Witch?”

 

Turning to the darkfriend, Nyssa once again slipped into the glamour that had served her well before. “Don’t think so much. It will only hurt your mind.”

 

Ignoring him once more, she walked on. The shed was a shabby little thing, no doubt used to house something like a pony or a donkey. Now it was used to hold one of the best warriors of her generation. Rosheen Tahn Sakhr, the woman who had obviously survived the loss of her first promised, the Keeper of the Chronicles, only to be bonded by a woman whose ambitions seemed to outreach those of the former Keepers by a far stretch. But what was even more important, her bondmate was one of the most trusted allies of Sirayn Simeone Damodred, the new Amyrlin Seat.

 

If there was one thing Nyssa regretted losing after she left the White Tower it was to be linked closely to that particular centre of power. Now she would see if Rosheen Tahn Sakhr, Green Warder would care to share the knowledge that would have been given freely, had she still been Nyssa Deschain, Sitter of the Gray Ajah. But no, that time had passed, and now Nyssa Deameau, Dreadlady loyal to Be`lal would have to gain the information some other way.

 

“The girl is lucky I’m willing to try it my way, before Semirhage’s pups arrive to do things their way.” She mused. The door to the shed creaked as she opened it. Behind her the darkfriend ordered two of his companions to guard the door. Inside the only lighting was provided by a candle. Two orbs of pure light soon remedied that. That light provided her with a good view of the warder. The woman was chained to the wall, her head hanging forward. Nyssa didn’t have to see her face to know that it was bruised though. She had very little doubt that the warder had resisted when they tried to capture her.

 

With a sigh she pulled up the little stool that had been left in the shed, and waited. She had time. Soon the warder would wake, and then they would talk. Perhaps the woman would be wise. Perhaps she would tell Nyssa the exact location of the army sent to liberate Kandor without too much persuasion from her side. Perhaps pigs would learn to fly. “Lightfools… They will never learn.”

 

~Nyssa Deameau

Greater Dreadlady

Dark Dreamwalker.

 

[silhouette]

The bright blinding light slowly faded to something of a more acceptable level. She had tried to lift her head a little while ago, but that effort was met with nothing but excruciating pain. Rosheen knew a concussion when she had one, and this was probably one of the worst ones she ever had. Of course being chained to a wall somewhere did little to alleviate the discomfort. But all this was nothing compared to the silence in her head. Over the past few weeks she had slowly become used to having a little knot of emotions there. Even when her bondmate slept, Rosheen had been able to tell if the dreams were good or bad from the emotions she could use. Now there was only the silence of a complete loss of consciousness.

 

The one power had been used during the attack, so it was likely that Aramina was kept asleep with the one power as well. Apparently the comfort of the Warder meant little, as long as the Aes Sedai was secured. If she could, Rosheen would have shrugged. They were both alive, that was enough for now. Many villagers had not been as fortunate. She pushed those thoughts aside, as they did nothing to make the situation any better. Aramina lived. Rosheen lived. These were the facts she could work with, as soon as she felt well enough to lift her head.

 

After another phase of unconsciousness, she could feel the presence of another in the room. Though the other was quiet, Rosheen could hear her breathing, and the occasional shift in position. When she was absolutely sure of the other’s location, she raised her head. The woman sitting on a little stool opposite to her was a petite blonde. Perhaps from Andor, though her eyes were a little too big. Kandori? She shook her head slightly. It mattered little. This little blonde thing was what she’d been given to work with, and work with it she would.

 

“Well?” she croaked. “If you’re not going to say anything, you could at least offer me a glass of water.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

Grand Master

Warder to Aramina Sedai.

 

[silhouette]

It was awake. Nyssa smiled slightly at the impudence the woman showed even though she was clearly on the losing side. It took courage, to be that bold. It was a courage Nyssa had come to associate with the Light. Only someone as truly blinded by the good could see fit to ask for a glass of water when hanging off a wall. With a slight shrug she conjured up a glass and the water to fill in. “I suppose I’m going to have to help you drink this, as you are currently… tied up a bit.”

 

With the help of Saidar, the warrior had soon had her fill of water. Nyssa admired her calm. Had she been in that position, she would have panicked. Then again, she would just make sure that she was never in such a position. That was the prerogative of those loyal to the Light. Friends of the Dark would never make such a mistake as to get caught by their fiercest enemies.

 

“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked, watching the warder for a sign of interest in the proceeding. The woman raised her head slightly, to get another good look at Nyssa. “Where is the Aes Sedai.” She asked. Nyssa smiled again. Of course. She was bonded, so she knew that her bondmate was alive. Perhaps she thought of escape now, as soon as she knew the location of the Aes Sedai. “Aramina sur Dulciena is safe.” Nyssa said, robbing Rosheen of the illusion that this had just been a fluke. Their identities were known. Nyssa’s objective was clear.

 

“Oh.” The warder muttered, letting her head fall forward again. “I ask again, do you know why you’re here?” Nyssa asked, using saidar to lift the other woman’s face. Grey eyes stared into her own. “Why don’t you tell me?” the other said. Nyssa smiled again. Such a lack of faith. “The location of the army sent to liberate Kandor. Let’s start there, and move on from that point.” The grey eyes narrowed. “Why?” the warder asked, her voice raw once more. “Why?”

 

~Nyssa Deameau

 

 

[silhouette]

A sense of dread began to spread through Rosheen’s body as the dreadlady used the one power to help her drink. She had expected the other to be a dreadlady, with the light being artificial and all that, but somehow the active proof of it was a little unsettling. She briefly wondered what Chosen this one thought herself loyal to. Perhaps Rosheen could get by with just small talk. If it was one of Semirhage’s minions, she wouldn’t be as lucky though. She soon repressed that sense of dread though. What had to be would be, and there was nothing she could do about it, not while she was chained to the wall the way she was.

 

Still, she demanded answers. “Why?” was a good start. Why them? Why there? Why now? Mostly ‘why now’. Why now? Now that Rosheen had finally gotten her life on track. Now that she finally had the chance to fulfil her purpose. Had she failed Aramina by letting the darkfriends and dreadlords capture them? No. It had been betrayal. When they saw a woman with a red shawl approach, escorted by a group of red cloaked men, Aramina and Rosheen had both assumed that Sirayn Sedai had finally sent reinforcements. They had both let their guards down, not expecting the darkfriends to go that far in their betrayal.

 

They had. The ‘guards’ had been male channellers. Rosheen almost shuddered at the memory of being tossed to the ground by the male half of the One Power. She had given them hell, even wounded one or two fairly badly before they subdued her. Then all had gone dark, but not before she felt Aramina’s distress and pain through the bond. Her bondmate lived though, and that was all that mattered for now. They would find a way out of there. They would, or they would die trying. Either way, there was no way in hell they would give these darkfriends what they wanted. Never.

 

“You must know why.” The dreadlady spoke again. “After all, was it not your wish that such a thing came to be? Oh, I know, the oppression of Kandor must have felt like a slap in the face to the White Tower. Kandor, which has always been such a strong believer in the Light.” The woman rose. “Lightfools. You will never cease to amaze me.” Rosheen felt her muscles tense. The woman was making no sense at all, and it was starting to get on her nerves. “Say what’s on your mind, woman, or just get on with whatever it was you came to do here. I have no need for your games.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

Grand Master

Green Gaidar

 

[silhouette]

“Ah, but games are such fun, dear warder. Games are what we live for, after all. We think we live for the Great Game of houses at times, or some other game between those who command us, but in truth, we are alive for just one purpose. To be pawns in the greatest game ever played. That between your precious Creator, and my Great Lord of the Dark.” Nyssa said, smiling faintly again. The warder was strong. No doubt she would resist any physical attentions given to her by Semirhage’s pet dreadlady. Nyssa chose to rely on different weapons. Doubt. If she could instil just the faintest hint of doubt in the heart of this dedicated lightfool, then her work for the day was done.

 

“So let us talk then, not as foes, but as mere pawns in this game we have little control over. I can continue to pretend that I’m interested in the location of the army you’ve prayed for, but you and I both know that with the connections my side have, it would be very unlikely for me to not already know the location of said army.” A flash of anger in the eyes of the warder. “You reek of lies.” The other hissed. “Oh, no doubt I do.” Nyssa mused aloud. “I have no doubt that I do, in your eyes. After all, that is what you’ve been told to believe, is it not? Dark is dark, and light is light. Do you really believe that that is the end of it?”

 

Shaking her head slightly in mock surprise, Nyssa rose, inched her chair a little closer and sat down again before continuing. Her voice lowered in a way that spoke of the secrets she was about the divulge. “It’s not.” She said, smiling faintly at the way the warder rolled her eyes. “You think the Great Lord is so uncaring? That he offers nothing to those who serve him?” the warder’s eyes seemed to light up with hatred for a moment. “You are mistaken, of course. Did you know that that dreadlord who tore up the White Tower and killed your precious promised, amongst many others, didn’t lose his mind until after he betrayed the Great Lord of the Dark?”

 

Pure rage seemed to flash in the warder’s eyes. “How dare you…” she hissed. Her voice seemed to give in at the memory of that loss. “How dare I? No, my dear, how dare you. How dare you assume that the Great Lord is responsible for every little bit of hurt that exists in this world? How dare you assume such things, when you have seen with your own eyes how ruthless the creator can be?” If the warder hadn’t been bound so tightly, Nyssa would have been in trouble at that point. “I know you won’t believe me. You’re too naïve. Like Lanfir Leah Marithsen, who didn’t lose her faith until the bitter end. A lot of people don’t see the truth until it’s too late. I hope you’re smarter than that, Rosheen Tahn Sakhr. I really hope you are.”

 

Nyssa Deameau

Dreadlady

[Wayfarer]

"So, just let me get this straight, and correct me by all means if you feel my assessment of the situation is unfair."

 

Duram leaned forward in the chair that he'd sequestered, the very first thing he'd sought out when he'd arrived at the camp before summoning Cedric Thun and Gideon Gershon before him.  While he took his ease in the seat, the pair of dreadlords were standing to attention as if he had been menacing them like some Banner Captain.  "Your company got close to the enemy before revealing yourselves, the pair of you were tasked with dealing with the Warder specifically, yes?  You knocked her off her horse, then you got onto foot, Great Lord only knows why, she then cut your thigh deeply Cedric and had a blade planted in your belly Gideon?  Yes?  Good, good, I just wanted to be sure."

 

"There are no pixies you would like to add to your story?  No fae creatures or dancing midgets?  You know, something as completely incomprehensible as the sheer stupidity you demonstrated!"  Standing, Duram now chose to menace the pair, walking over to them and using his height to look down on them.  "You'd be dead Gideon if not for Nyssa!  As for you Cedric, you'd be lame if Nyssa hadn't been there to provide healing!  Great Lord's beard, what were the pair of you thinking?!  You thought perhaps that the woman, Rosheen, would be helpless against saidin?  Well she would have been if you hadn't been so bloody daft!"

 

"If the pair of you ever indulge in such an act of stupidity ever again!  EVER ENDANGER ANYYONE ELSE WITH YOUR RECKLESSNESS!  So help me I'll throw you into the Pit of Doom myself and you can burn in the Great Lord's embrace!"  There was a definite flinch there, as friendly as Duram was, if he made a threat he followed through on it.  He'd definitely not stand for the foolishness that had been exhibited and he'd stamp it out right here and now.  If they so much as looked the wrong way for the next week, he'd make good on his threat and they'd be an example for anyone else who ever thought to expose others to risk needlessly.  His Order was not a home for the incompetent or those seeking to stroke their ego.

 

"From now on, you'll do what you're told and you'll do it exceedingly well!  If I even hear a whisper, so much as get a hint of you doing less than your best and doing what you're meant to be doing instead of arsing about like those bloody idiots that my fellow Chosen piss about with, you'll find out exactly how far I'm willing to go to make good on a threat!  Am I understood?!"

 

"Yes Master!"

 

It was amazing how they'd gone from slovenly to exceeding expectations in less than five minutes.  "Wonderful.  Now Gideon, you are going to go and make yourself useful and fetch Nyssa here immediately, I wish to speak to her right now.  And be thankful that I'm not going to recommend she shield you and leave you to play hide and go seek with the local Trollocs.  Go!"

 

Watching Gideon disappear from the tent in a flash, Duram turned to Cedric.  "As to you, get out of my sight and make yourself useful around the camp.  I had best hear glowing reports about your behaviour from this point onward or I'll be suitably inventive.  Go!"

 

Watching his second follower disappear as quickly as the first, Duram walked back to his seat and sat back down.  It wasn't an unexpected thing, new Dreadlords had a tendency to be power jockey's and think they had the world in their grasp, once that was stamped out of them they'd be fine.  Hopefully this chat would do the trick, because if they weren't salvageable then Duram wasn't going to risk them betraying all of them with a foolish act.  At least Nyssa would come and join him soon enough and they could discuss what they were doing.

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

[silhouette]

A knock on the door of the shed distracted Nyssa from the task at hand. She felt she was getting somewhere with the warder. Where, she didn’t know yet. “You’ll have to excuse me for a moment, Rosheen. I am needed once again.” she gave the warder a friendly smile. “The trouble with leadership, I suppose.” She walked out the door, leaving the warder secured to the wall.

 

Gideon was waiting for her outside the shed. Unlike what she’d noticed of him before, he seemed attentive and eager to serve. She had cussed him out for letting the warder wound him, but even after that he had seemed unimpressed with her status. Dreadlords. They were all the same. Even Michael had been on the arrogant and reckless side when she met him the first time. She hoped that the two dreadlords she had with her would grow out of it as well. “Yes?” she asked, arching an eyebrow at the man. “Uh. M.m.m.master D.d.d.d.duram is w.w.w.waiting for you over at the t.t.t.tent.” he stuttered. “Ah. Thank you for warning me, Gideon. Go back to guarding the Aes Sedai now.” Nyssa walked off before he could stutter his way through a reply.

 

Her tent was situated quite close to the wagon and the shed. There was an artificial light coming from it now, which indicated that the Chosen was there waiting for her. Between one step and the next she shed the glamour she had donned to keep her identity hidden. Though she hadn’t actually felt the glamour, she felt better about looking like herself again. though she made no sound as she slipped into the tent, Duram seemed to know she was going to arrive anyway. He instantly handed her a glass of wine, a bottle he had obviously brought with him, as she hadn’t brought any herself. “I assume you’ve had little trouble finding us?” she said after she’d taken a seat opposite to him.

 

~Nyssa Deameau

[Wayfarer]

Duram smiled as he lifted his glass to her and took a sip, he'd made sure to get a decent bottle as he didn't drink cheap with his followers.  Sitting the glass aside even as Nyssa made herself comfortable, Duram took his ease.  "It didn't take as long as I thought it would, when I arrived I was told an interesting story.  Cedric and Gideon, I've had a word with them and if they prove to be too... exuberant?  Its a nicer word than retarded, if they're 'exuberant' in the future be sure to let me know as I would like to deal with them personally.  I've made it very clear to them that any lapses of judgement in the future will have consequences.  And how are our guests?  I can't imagine you've had much time to do anything with them, but broken the ice?"

 

“Gideon seemed fine when I talked to him. He was stuttering a bit when I last spoke to him, which should mean that whatever you’ve said to him has had it’s effect.” Taking a hearty swallow of the wine, Nyssa took a moment to settle in. Why she had thought travelling was fun when she was younger, she would never know. Her children were still in Tear now, no doubt enjoying their freedom now that their mother was away from home. “Our… guests are fine. The Aes Sedai is soundly asleep in the wagon, and I’ve been speaking to the warder. She was the promised to the former Keeper of the Chronicles before Caladesh put a stop to that, so I figured I should speak to her first. Caladesh also ended my career in the Black Ajah, after all.”

 

Duram curled his lip in distaste at the mention of Caladesh.  "Ending your career in the Black Ajah was the only good thing he did do, otherwise I would never have found you.  Beyond that though, he was pitiful excuse for a man and more so for a M`aeshadar, whatever Elan saw in him must've been buried deeper than his own sanity.  Bunch of sheepmolesting Amadicians, Caladesh the worst."  He'd been less than impressed to learn of the man's actions, they'd betrayed the Shadow's capability and allowed the Tower to erect some defences that made going in and out of the Tower without being detected more difficult.  Then of course Elan had been so stupid as to actually praise the man's actions and take responsibility for them, as if they were some stroke of genius.  The only stroke that had been needed on Osan'gar's part was the sort that would have put his sorry person in a coffin, and those idiots that had agreed with him as well.  "The Warder sounds intriguing, what has been said?"

 

“Very little, so far. She distrusts me, but she has reason to, after the way we caught them.” Nyssa pondered for a while. Little had been said so far… “I’ve mentioned that Caladesh only attacked the White Tower after his ties to the Great Lord had been severed. That it was the protection of the Great Lord that kept him… well, I suppose sane is a rather big word for him. She wasn’t aware of that until I told her, which was interesting.”

 

"Sane?  He was a can short of a sixpack beforehand."  Seeing the look of confusion on Nyssa's face, Duram shook his head as he realised he'd lapsed into an old saying that made little sense in this time.  "A few spears short of an armoury."  That made better sense.  "At anyrate, she is concerned about this then?  I wonder how other pieces of information would unsettle her in regards to her precious Lanfir and Lyanna.  Why not inform her about Ja'varan's stay in the Tower with the pair?  It might be interesting for her to know that we aren't the only ones that have taken prisoners."

 

Nyssa’s eyes narrowed. “Ja’varan?” just a green sister, as far as she knew. As far as anyone knew. Nyssa hadn’t seen her in any black ajah meetings, but that meant little. Muirenn always insisted on secrecy, after all. “What of Ja’varan? A friend of the dark? Or more? It seems like we are not the only once to deceive either.”

 

Shaking his head, Duram smiled.  "I thought you knew."  Taking his drink in hand, he elaborated.  "Ja'varan Durrlani was more than Ja'varan Durrlani.  Heh, its kind of funny, everyone assumes that there were only and only could be thirteen Chosen.  You'd think that the Light would understand its our job to lie and cheat.  There were thirteen Chosen in the Bore, but Barid was free.  The one who was with us was Serashada, Crimsonthorne, she was the first released and because her body was so close to the outside it had aged with time, she turned to dust when she was freed.  Her thread was retained and woven with that of Ja'varan Durrlani to form the Chosen Ja'varan.  She was caught by the Amyrlin and Keeper and kept leashed for a time, she's always been a bit sore about that."

 

Nyssa’s eyes widened a bit before narrowing again. “Why that… lying cheating twit.” She said, before smiling. “The last thing I did before leaving the White Tower was to take Lanfir Leah Marithsen out of the hell they would have created for her there. She had killed Caladesh at that point, and there was nothing for her there. It was a kindness, really. I didn’t kill her though, I left her on top of Kinslayer’s Dagger. Another kindness, though she didn’t view it that way.” She could still remember the look of betrayal on Lanfir’s face. “I left her there to show her once and for all that the Creator didn’t care for her. And if the Creator doesn’t care about one of his most favoured children, then he won’t care about the others either. It was a fairly pointless lesson, as I doubt she survived it, but it felt right at the time.”

 

"I always wondered what happened to Lanfir."  Thinking, Duram took the bottle and refilled Nyssa's glass for her before filling his own and setting the bottle down.  "Perhaps you should go speak to Rosheen Tahn Sakhr about this new piece of information, see if you can open the crack up just a little further.  If now is a good time for it, its up to you since its your game to play after all."  Sipping on his drink, Duram considered the new piece of information that Nyssa had offered him while he waited to see what she decided.

[silhouette]

“I think I will.” Nyssa said in response to Duram’s suggestion. Ah, but this little jewel was going to rock Rosheen’s world to the very core. The woman she had trusted all her life, a liar just as ordinary as any friend of the dark. She finished her wine and rose from her seat, feeling a little warm inside. This wasn’t what she was best at, but she was good at it none the less. If both Rosheen and Aramina would return feeling a little less secure in their love for the Light, then she would have done her job quite well.

 

“Would you care to meet her? I think you’ll find her interesting. In all my years, I have never met a woman quite like her.” Not that Rosheen and Nyssa had ever really met. Nyssa had seen her from time to time, before she left the White Tower. Before Caladesh murdered the woman Rosheen would be bonded to. Perhaps Rosheen would feel glad now that she had avoided that fate. After all, both Lyanna and Lanfir had proven themselves to be no better than Nyssa.

 

Duram nodded to signal he would like to meet the mohawked menace. Nyssa briefly considered donning the glamour that had kept her identity hidden again, but she decided against it. Even if either Rosheen or Aramina recognised her, they would never find out where she was. She had made sure of that. “You’ll find that we’ve had to chain her up. Or rather, we’ve had to chain her up because Semirhage’s minions will show up soon, and we wouldn’t want them to think us soft. She’s not too uncomfortable, I think.”

 

Nyssa mused on the message M’bela had sent her in the dream for a moment. The other dreadlady had said that there would be an interesting gift to send back to Sirayn, along with Aramina and Rosheen. “I wonder if M’bela has somehow gotten her hands on that a’dam that was used to trap Ja’varan. That would be a fairly impressive message to send back to Sirayn indeed.”

 

~Nyssa Deameau

Dreadlady 

 

[Wayfarer]

"I'm not particularly worried about what Nemene's lapdogs think, we only need to put on an appearance to impress if we are weak, and we are anything but that now."  They'd been shattered by the Chachin incident, but since then they'd been able to rebuild their numbers nicely, between stealing some of Barid's previous servants and being able to recruit more openly since Duram's very existance was no longer a secret courtesy of Shaidar Haran's meeting.  If Nemene chose to believe her servants reports that they had gone soft, which he doubted, then all the more fool her and her followers likewise if they were foolish enough to make the assumption.  The greatest strength could many times be found in the lightest touch.  "As to the gift...  Perhaps, I just hope that it isn't a piece of stupidity akin to Caladesh's.  The Tower is more useful to us whole than it is broken."

 

Stopping before the shed, Duram looked to Nyssa before bowing his head so he could step inside.  It was an interesting sight, a woman of unusual height even if one didn't take into account her hair.  As it was, Duram couldn't help his lips quirking at the sight of her, even as she weighed and measured him in turn.  He doubted she had come across many, if any people that were taller than her, and Duram was able to convincingly look down upon her as he stepped closer, yet not within her reach even if she strained against her chains.

 

"Interesting hair, don't see it often these days."  Duram didn't even contemplate bothering with the Chosen shock and awe routine, he didn't need to and even if it did he would have been loathe to do it for just an audience of one.  Dramatic entrances and epic evil were reserved for larger gatherings of Lightfools when it amused him to do so.  Namandar would have been such a time, but that hadn't been meant to be.  Still, at least he'd buried that city for good so the Lightfools couldn't benefit from it, even if he'd only managed to loot items of a more personal nature to him.  That aside, Saine had looted it before he'd gotten there thanks to her Black Ajah contacts, but at least he'd gotten a few things of worth.

 

"But, first of all I must give my congratulations.  Marking those pair of idiots with your blade was a fair effort, even if it had been dependent on their stupidity as much as your skill.  Well done."  Smiling, he turned to Nyssa.  "Your companion for this evening has been informing me of how the talks have been going.  I think its been simply splendid, so much so that I'm going to duck back out and go fetch a chair and a bit of wine.  Spectator sport and all."

 

Turning back to Rosheen, Duram's smile was ever present as he continued.  "As to what merits the occasion?  The pair of us were talking and we discovered a little gem we'd just love to share with you, and even better its actually true.  So, I'm going to disappear out of this shed now, and when I get back our mutual friend is going to share the news with you.  Don't go anywhere."

 

Turning to Nyssa again as he made his way out, Duram nodded.  "You can handle introductions, I'll grab an extra couple of seats while I get mine.  There's no need for her to sit on the ground after all."  Having said his piece, Duram ducked back out of the shed to go find some chairs.

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

[silhouette]

The man was huge. Rosheen had seen a few Aiel in the time she had been training in Kandor, but this man would be able to tower over them as easily as she towered over the average Cairhienin. Cross-bred with a trolloc perhaps. Her lips quirked in the faintest mockery of a smile. Why not. He was smiling at her as well, after all. The shorter woman had been replaced with someone tall and dark haired. A glamour, of course. She should’ve figured that one out when she couldn’t quite place her nationality. She could’ve been a mutt like Rosheen, but there weren’t many like her around to begin with.

 

The man babbled on a bit, talking about the dreadlords she’d carved into, the information he wanted to get her and wine. Insane. Obviously insane. All the better for her to ignore whatever he said. She had to revise her opinion a bit when it appeared that he was the master of the one who had so conveniently changed her appearance before. That was interesting, because as far as Rosheen was concerned, that one had been leading the cowardly attack. So who was he?

 

It appeared she was about to get her answer when the man walked out of the tent, giving the woman leave to introduce him. “I’m going to release you now.” The woman said. And indeed, the chains started to loosen, falling from her body within moments. “Good.” Rosheen said, instantly lunging at the woman. It was a gamble, of course. “Fool.” The woman said, giving her an affectionate pat on her fist, which was suspended in mid air, mere inches from colliding with the woman’s pretty bone structure. “Can’t blame me for trying, witch.” Rosheen muttered, wincing slightly as the woman put her down on the ground and used the one power to straighten her out a bit.

 

“Very well then. I’m going to try to let you go again, but to avoid further temptation, I’m going to weave a shield between us. How does that sound?” Retarded. Worst idea ever in the history of bad ideas. “Fine.” Rosheen said. And indeed, the woman kept her word. Rosheen instantly tested the shield. “Seems sturdy enough.” She said, nursing her bruised knuckles. “I wouldn’t be very good at my job if it wasn’t, now would I?” she smiled sweetly again, which made Rosheen ball her hands into fists even though they hurt.

 

“Now now, this will all be over soon enough.” The woman said. “You see, that man who just left here is called Be`lal by his enemies. We call him a different name, of course, but I won’t bore you with that.” Rosheen laughed. With only a thin wall of air between them, it felt like she was laughing right in the other woman’s face. “Right… Be`lal, the evil forsaken of endless doom?” her eyes narrowed as she glared at the other woman. “Don’t make me laugh, witch.”

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

Grand master

[Wayfarer]

"Raaaa!  Doooooooom!"

 

Walking back into the shed, Duram only had the bottle of wine and the glasses in hand, waving both infront of him at the pair while shambling forward in a mocking display of intimidation.  Laughing as he handed one of the glasses to Nyssa, he began pouring them more wine as he discarded the entirely inneffective foreboding inflection for something a little more natural.  "I'm sorry about the seats, the wine won out.  Lucky us though, I'm going to cheat."

 

Taking hold of saidin, Duram's face went flat momentarily as he held the power long enough to fashion three seats of earth from the ground beneath them, Duram made sure to give his seat along with Nyssa's a back whereas Rosheen's seat was conspicuous for the lack of such a comfort.  Creating a table to sit between himself and Nyssa, Duram sat the wine bottle on it as he sat his feet up and released saidin, returning to his normal self as he looked over at their prisoner.

 

"Do sit down dear, its polite."  The comment directed to Duram as the woman refused to sit brought a grin to his face.  Looking to Nyssa, he shook his head as he set his wine down.  "Now, you see why I sometimes call this Age primitive?  She's not precisely the poster girl for civilisation."

 

Turning back to Rosheen, Duram decided to use a soft touch of compulsion to set her right.  "Sit down."

 

The response surprised Duram enough to merit releasing saidin for a moment.  Laughing ruefully, he looked to Nyssa.  "The effect is sort of lost when they manage to resist the first time.  Got a bit of will in her, but the point still begs to be made."

 

Looking to Rosheen once more, Duram took the power and this time his touch wasn't as light.  "Sit down."

 

Obedience, attentiveness, all the marks of someone bound by compulsion.  Duram didn't like the weave himself, but it had proven handy on numerous occasions.  "Now, see the great thing here Nyssa is that when I release the weave, she's going to remember every single feeling and thought that she had while under this influence.  Aren't you Rosheen?"

 

There was the nod.  Duram increased the compulsion enough to compensate for what he would say next.  "In fact, if I required you to kill your Aes Sedai, you would be more than happy to would you not?"  It was a cruel thing to do, but the nod he got drove the point home.  Releasing the weave and the source, the display of emotions from Rosheen as the enormity of what had happened just struck her was enough to reveal that Duram had gotten to her.  He didn't think any less of her for it though even as she struck the wall of air in a futile gesture of rage, people couldn't be held responsible for what they did while under the weave.

 

"Now I think we've all learned from this that if I wanted to, I could make you dance to any tune I wanted.  But, I am not Ared who needs to force women to his bed, or Nemene who seeks only to slake her thirst for the suffering of others.  We shall leave that lesson at that, unless you choose to be uncivil.  Considering we've been nice enough to release your chains and give you a seat, the least you can do is sit in it and listen."

 

"But, we have strayed.  I came here to watch because, oddly enough, it amuses me when the truth does more to challenge people than any lie ever did.  Since I believe in sharing, I'm going to let my companion here do the honours of informing you."  Turning to Nyssa, Duram smiled.  "In your own time, of course.  You were kind enough to allow me to join you after all."

 

 

Duram Laddel Cham

Be`lal, The Netweaver

[silhouette]

Both icy hatred and fiery rage coursed through Rosheen when Duram released the compulsion weave that had had her under his spell for just a few moments. It had been enough. Though she had known what was coming when she felt the first tug at her mind, she hadn’t been prepared for the complete and utter loss of her own free will. For a moment it hadn’t just felt acceptable to do what he wanted her to do… no, it had felt right. The second she was released she leapt forward, the barrier of air forgotten until her fist collided with it, instead of the face of the bastard who had just compulsed her.

 

“You son of a whore!” she raged, ignoring the words that followed her outburst. Ignoring the chair the forsaken had fabricated for her, she began pacing. “You’d better pray to the Dark One that you never meet me on equal ground, you bastard… If we ever do, I’m going to tear your heart out and feed it to your wench.” Useless anger and frustration. She had to vent it though. Had to get rid of the fire and the ice in her veins, and the sickening dread that seemed to clench her heard. She had nodded when he said he could make her kill her bondmate. Aramina. Never.

 

After a few more paces she felt she had calmed herself enough to immerse herself in the Spring. Once again the cool numbness of the emotionless state offered her solace. “I suppose I should be grateful that my Aes Sedai is so soundly asleep right now… otherwise this little affair would have upset her greatly. As it is, I suppose I’ll just be glad that you’ve chosen me to harass with your lies and deceit, and not her.” But for how long? And how could she keep Aramina safe if she could be used as a tool to harm her just as easily?

 

“Calm down a bit.” the woman spoke again. She seemed to be as unfazed by the events as the forsaken, but she had already proven that her looks could be about as deceiving as everything else. Still, Rosheen complied, settling her back against the far wall so she could stare at them from above, while still keeping a distance. “Much better…” the woman said, smiling faintly. “Well then, let’s see. Do you remember Ja’Varan?” The name rung a bell. A friend of Lanfir, if she remembered correctly. She nodded curtly when the Forsaken seemed to shift impatiently in his seat. “Friend of the Amyrlin, I think.”

 

“Friend? An interesting choice of friends she had then. Tell me, have you ever seen an a’dam?” Rosheen had never really gotten involved in Aes Sedai matters, but she knew what an a’dam was. She had heard Lyanna describe one once, when the first reports of the Seanchan came in. She nodded again, avoiding the looks the forsaken was giving her. “Very well then… let’s add this up. You know that Lyanna and Lanfir had a very similar bracelet at some point, right?” Right. They had been lovers. Rosheen had always assumed it was some token of their affection. She closed her eyes briefly, seeing Lyanna’s face before her as if her former promised was standing right in front of her. With the bracelet. A plain, silver bracelet, much like the kind Lanfir had. She could see where this was heading now. “You are so full of lies it’s a miracle you don’t choke on them.” Her voice was calm again even as she insulted the dreadlady. She couldn’t help but look at the Forsaken afterwards. Give me your best shot, the look said. Do your worst.

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr

 

 

 

[Wayfarer]

Smiling slightly, Duram finished his glass and sat it aside as he decided now was the moment to answer that Rosheen would have already concluded for herself.  "Your precious duo held Ja'varan in their thrall with that a'dam.  Not quite as pervasive as my compulsion, but from the time she had returned to the Tower to the time she left, she was controled and even on a number of occasions tortured with that very a'dam.  All the time they were brazen enough to wear the ter'angreal a'dam about and as far as I'm aware at least, no other Aes Sedai knew of it.  Thats the measure of the woman you were once promised to, you were promised to the Keeper were you not?"  Duram took up the bottle and began to top Nyssa's glass up before his own, his smile widening at the reaction on Rosheen's part.

 

Lies. Lies, lies, lies lies and even more lies. This was one of the Forsaken, after all. "You lie." Rosheen simply stated, refusing to look at him. She chose to look at the woman instead. Why would anyone join the dark side? What could a forsaken like Be`lal possibly have to offer to a woman like her? More lies, no doubt. "You're so entangled in your web of lies that you wouldn't see the truth if it smacked you in the face. Well here's the truth for you. I was to be bonded to Lyanna Sedai. Lyanna Sedai was a good woman, who did nothing but serve the Light the best she could. Even if what you say is true, then good on her. To hold a forsaken captive and torture her? She was kinder to your Ja'varan than I would have been."

 

"So that is the measure of the Light then?"  Grinning as he set the bottle down, Duram took his glass in hand though he nursed it now rather than partook of it.  "You deplore the very things that make one an evil person, like torture, yet using the same methods that make a person evil on someone you consider to be evil makes the act a good one?  Convincing argument there."  His grin relaxing into his usual smile, Duram continued.  "Tell me, do those lies you tell yourself really work?  If so, I pity you, self deception is the worst lie of all."

 

"You might as well stop talking now, goatson, your lies aren't working on me. You twist the truth just far enough to make a good person believe he or she is bad, or to make a good person believe that his or her friends are evil. I will have none of it." Rosheen glanced at the other woman again, who sat there with a contemplative look on her face. "You're so adamant about your cause being the right one, and yet you go around calling your master the Great Lord of the Dark, and you call yourself dreadlords. That sounds pretty evil to me, if you ask me. So what if we're just on two sides of another coin? I've chosen my side, and you've chosen yours, and nothing you or I can say or do will change that fact." she looked at the forsaken again. "So do your worst, puppet. I will not have a change of heart. I will not tell you anything. You will not corrupt me."

 

"Ah, and there is the rabid fanaticism I should have expected."  Smiling, Duram leaned forward in his seat.  "Truth be told, it was people like you that made my choice much easier.  A willingness to commit evil for a good cause, or rather to use a good cause to justify a deeper bloodlust charged with your self righteousness and hatred.  Good intentions don't wash anyones hands, maybe if you survive all of this you may have a chance to appreciate that truth.  Truth is truth, no matter whose lips it comes from."

 

"But, I'm afraid my time is done here.  Entertainment is entertainment, but I think you can appreciate that there is no rest for the wicked."  Standing, Duram looked to Nyssa as he smiled at her.  "As always, its a pleasure Nyssa.  I'll leave the bottle with you don't mind, I'm not going to be particularly imposing if I get drunk and fall flat on my face."

 

"As for you."  Duram turned to Rosheen as his smile transformed to a grin once again.  "Get a hair cut.  Seriously, only Mesaana's children used to sport that wreck."  At that, Duram let himself out before he a rejoinder could be thrown his way.  Not difficult, he doubted that the woman had been expecting a comment like that from one of the Chosen, but then, no one did.  Now he'd go to the other part of his entertainment for the night, Rosheen had said that her Aes Sedai was soundly asleep after all...

[silhouette]

Rosheen watched the forsaken as he left the shed. The moment the door closed, she sat down on the little stool he’d made for her. There was a slump in her shoulders that spoke of weariness, and a hatred in her eyes that spoke of death. She looked up to find the dreadlady still sitting there. “Why do you serve him?” she asked, her voice quiet and yet filled with hatred. “Why?”

 

Once again, Nyssa couldn’t quite keep herself from caring. Much had changed since she was at the White Tower. Too much, at times. She felt herself feeling sorry for the woman sitting in front of her. The warder had been through much in her short life already, and she would go through twice as much again, as long as she was bonded to the Keeper of the Chronicles. It would almost be a kindness to kill the Aes Sedai, and set this formidable woman free. But even if Rosheen Tahn Sakhr survived that, she would still waste her life on the light. Nyssa had seen such blind love for the Light before, when she had had long conversations with Lanfir on the top of the White Tower.

 

“Because he offers me safety. He protects me, and those I love.” The look of shock on Rosheen’s face was endearing. “Yes. I love. I have a family. I’m human, even though you’d rather not think of me that way.” The warder looked even more tired then. Nyssa couldn’t even begin to imagine what it had to be like, to have such a short life. The warder had been fighting her entire life, dedicated to destroy the evil she had always been taught to hate. Nyssa doubted that their little talk here would change her mind… Duram’s little show had smothered all chances at that, but she could at least offer the woman a different point of view.

 

“That still doesn’t answer why. Why serve him. Why serve the Dark One? What has the Light ever done you wrong?” Rosheen looked up at the woman again, who looked back at her with dark and unreadable eyes. “Nothing. It has done nothing. It has never accepted me, and it has never cast me aside. It is nothing. The Light, the Creator… they might as well be figments of our imagination, for all the caring that they do. The… Dark One, as you wish to call him, is different. He is there… I have heard his voice in my head and it felt right. The Great Lord loves his children far better than the Creator ever could. I serve him because I would rather feel the love of a caring parent than the neglect of an indifferent one.”

 

That still didn’t answer her questions, and her mind was filled with them. Why, why, why. She understood now why people who had just lost something they held dear would raise their arms to the heavens and cry out ‘Why’. Why did the Creator allow it’s finest children to die? Why did he let these darkfriends destroy all that she cared about? Why would he not answer these calls? She raised her head again when she heard the dreadlady move. “I will leave you with your thoughts for now. Others will come soon, and then you and your Aes Sedai will be released. There is a message you must deliver to Sirayn Sedai. I will give it to your Aes Sedai as well, but it is important that you remember it.”

 

“Abandon the Northern lands. There is no Light left to salvage here.” The warder narrowed her eyes at Nyssa. “Also tell her… We see everything. There is nothing she can hide from us.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it came close though. The dark infiltrated every layer of civilisation, including the White Tower. From the lowest servant to the highest counsellor, the Great Lord had his children, waiting to be called to war. “Tell your wretched cripple of an Amyrlin that this is but the beginning. All she holds dear will fall. It will begin in Kandor, and it will spread like the darkness at nightfall.”

 

And with that said, the dreadlady walked out of the shed, leaving Rosheen alone with her thoughts. Abandoning the fake chair in favour of pacing, she let them mill inside her head for a while, before pushing them aside. It would not help her now. Even the slightest hint of a doubt could mean the difference between life and death. She would survive. Aramina would survive. The Light would survive. Maybe in time it would regain some of the glory Rosheen had always seen in it, before Lyanna died and Lanfir disappeared. Before she raised her arms to the heavens and cried out to the Creator, only to get silence in return.

 

~Rosheen Tahn Sakhr, Grand Master

 

~Nyssa Deameau, Greater Dreadlady