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Day Old Hate [Watchers Phase 2] - OPEN

Guest Arie Ronshor

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Guest Arie Ronshor

Poetic Death

no more speach, but their souls are screaming

   when life is taken, the soul will rise

no more heart beat, but the fire is alive

   from warm flesh, to a lifeless cold

no more sight, but they can see the sorrow

   eyes are closed, but truth burns through

no more life, but my memory is full

   friends are gone, but memory be true



The battle was over. Death scattered the playing field like broken chess pieces that could no longer be given name to. Her eyes carefully turned and looked over each face. It was all a blur to her in more ways than just her eyes. The glass that once settled on the bridge of her nose was shattered on the ground among those that were dead. Man, Woman, Aes Sedai... Age gave no heed nor warning to the toll.. the cost for the lives lost this day. Each a thread that influenced so many in turn were now cut, ripped away from the pattern to be woven into the next age. -Light Guard Us..- The Battle may be over, but this war was far from completing its cycle.


-How many more of us will die?- The numbers and percentages that only caused a damp cold under her skin. Maegan Ryanne shivered.


Aes Sedai, and yet the tears rolled down her cheek as the pain of loss was no longer kept from her face. The one that held her bond would have felt her pain instantly, there was no longer a reason to hide it. However the pain was not consuming. It was a comfort. To stand amongst the dead knowing that once again she survived to fight anouther day. What would be the price for her life be this time? How many more times would she be able to cheat death? For it to pass over her as her thread continued to spin weaves in the worlds Pattern. When would it end?


These were questions often asked but never voiced, never answered and never in need of an answer. Instead of letting the inner monologue fester in her mind along with the dull numb of confusion, fear, and hatred that settled in the back of her mind Maegan settled on a course of action. Action was better than silence. The day was not over regardless of whether it was moon or sun overhead. The day was not over until all could be laid to rest.


"A shovel, if possible." She spoke to one that was still standing, her bond-holder useless and sitting on the ground. She could feel his eyes watching her. Maegan paid the boy no mind.


"Why? So you can attack us with it instead of your bloody power?" The man sneered at her. She could hear the pain that laced his hate and sarcastic words.


"What is your name?"


"Req." He was surprised.


"I am Mae. These are my sisters. My brothers." Her words soft and held no more emotion than the pain and compassion that she felt. "And they are yours."


"You are not one of us."


"My bond to one of you suggests otherwise." Tilting her head she repeated herself, "I requested for a shovel. I wish to put my family to rest. Unless you have objections to me digging a few holes." The man glared at her before turning around braely muttering a -No.- and walked off in whichever direct he intended. Pausing Maegan took a moment to rub her right temple as her mind worked furiously. Without her spectacles seeing was harder and with the amout she challenged she was not entirely drained but the excursion of channelling, sparing and noe being unable to see along with an unintelligible bond in the back of her mind was causing a headache to form. There was too much chaos to sort through that even the Highest could grasp it all in the moments that followed the wake of its end. The worst part was that there was very little way to know what had caused such an outcome.


Toiling Maegan frowned as she stood there separating her thoughts and emotions into the Void to keep her bond holder from becoming too curious. Unknown to Bonding and what it all entailed Maegan had no wish for one so young to know or even see a glimpse of the inner workings of the Tower. Replaying the Halls orders over and over again in her mind, she could not recall any plausible reason for the Hall to send so many Full Sisters to unlock the mysterious information that each Eye and Ear was receiving from Caemlyn. The possibility that the E&E's were miss informed to this degree was highly underestimated by all of them, but that left no purpose for them to leave. Maegan silently fumed, feeding it into the Void. She had only agreed to join the company to oversee and take notes. Were there to be any Male Channelers it would be departmental for one of the Red Shawl to be among the masses. Thus lead to both her and Muirenn signing their name into the roaster.


Now the Eldest was stilled. Stilled!


She shook her head as Req returned, passed her the spade, and then left her alone. Alone to stand amoung the rubble and chaos of death that lay at her feet. Stealing away one past moment, she whispered a prayer that she had not spoken since she had been a child in her fathers house. A prayer for the Living. A Prayer for the Dead. A prayer that the Creator of Light guard them in the final days to come.


A prayer to feel less alone.






Maegan Ryanne Sedai

The Highest


Now you still speak of day old hate

Though your whole world has gone up into flames

And isn't it great to find that you're really worth nothing

And how safe it is to feel safe...

The things we do just to stay alive

Day Old Hate - City and Colour



Poem - "Poetic Death" - Vespera "Ves" Renard (BFF)


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Guest Arie Ronshor

There was no sound but save that of dirt and the minor grunts of the men that dug away at the earth. Were there words that had been in need of exchange it was all but whispered away from her ears. They did not trust her. To this Maegan felt no blame to fall upon them. If there was but any among her party that would be her. More so than any other because of the colour of her Shawl.




Like the blood that now stained their hands from the blood-shed her party had brought upon them. Pausing, she wiped said hand against her brow to remove the drops of sweat that worsened her already imperfect vision. ::Too many lost...:: Maegan counted, ::Over 30 gone... Too many... wasted.:: She mused as the last grave was covered. She heard the last parting words uttered from just a few yards over.


"The Light Shine on You, and the Creator shelter you. The last Embrace of the Mother welcome you Home."


It had not been the first time that Maegan had heard these words uttered over the course of the night. Yet they still brought comfort to her weary heart. At first she had been surprised to hear the last epitaph spoken so far south. But these were men of various histories and backgrounds that have banded together under the Dragon. ::Against people like my sisters. No_. Me..:: To have them amoung their ranks only gave more weight to their will and burden. The will to survive, and the burden to bear the one that will end up mad.. Lost to the taint.


But she stood with them, burying male and female channelers with their warders and the guards along side each other. ::As it should be.:: Maegan thought to herself as she could hear herself echoing the ancient Shienaran saying. Her own whispered in the Old Tongue. "Lyet aes sedai sagain. Lyet. Tai'Shan'Mael mahdi isain logoth calichniye. Cuerbiyari an calichniye'drelle sagain. Ji'moridin hei. Hei Mashiara. Hei."


She looked over to the boy that held her bond, her face unreadable. She felt sorry for the boy, his remorse and silence spoke more words to her than anything he could possibly say. She knew that he would not stop, could not stop, her from doing or aquiring anythign she needed. Beyond the journal in her staddlebag which had been looted along with her hair pins -ter'angreals, no less!- and other pieces, Maegan felt no haulting tone in his mind as she opened herself to Saidar. Although the looks of other Asha'men and Dedicated nearly made her release it just as fast. However, Maegan was never defered from a simple stare. Even a complicated one.


Maegan knew for a very long time that she was very different from most from the moment she learned how to touch Saidar. Still blind, Maegan was upset that she could not remember the exact details of a rose. Too much time in a library had left her little time to wander the gardens of her Cairhien home. Instead of sunlight, it was moonlight that warmed her. Instead of a rose, it was stars. She embraced the warmth, the whispers of the stars in the heavens, their light mizing with the warmth of the moon, weaving it's patterns into threads and threads of Air, Water, Earth, Fire and Spirit. And she chose, carefully, the threads she desired, wishing for but a moment for her Spirit Angreal, and moved Earth and Fire into the very ground infront of her.  The gateway had shattered here. The residue still hugged the particles of sand around her feet and around the earth that she pulled up from the ground. Weaving carefully, a small pillar of about 3-4 hands high emerged from the ground. Smooth like marble, Maegan pressed into the stone names of each that had died that day, marking the date at the very bottom.


'Tia mi aven Moridin isainde vadin'

May the Mothers embrace welcome you home'


Completing, Saidar left her. The momentary joy of Saidar's warmth left Maegan feeling colder than she cared to admit. Too many dead, far too many dead. Allowing the moments to pass she reluctantly turned away from the monument she left erected. There was no need to look at the men that surrounded her to know that her tribute formed a wordless appreciation. It was all that Maegan could do, but it was something. Something was better than nothing. ::It may not stand for Ages, but it will stand long enough for us to remember the price paid. A price that was not worth the cost.:: She thought sadely, walking over to the boy that held her bond. What ever the price may be, Maegan doubted that it will be an easy transaction in getting away from this place. Cairhien was in an uproar, the Aiel at war within it's walls for the second time in this past century. The White Tower was falling apart from the inside, and Light only knew what damage was being caused by those that were of the Shadow. Black Ajah. And with an Amyrlin Maegan no longer trusted, she felt damn near helpless bonded to a Dedicated and stuck in this Black Tower.


::I will NOT be helpless!:: She scolded herself. Looking fiercely at her bonded, her tone was not unfriendly or harsh in any way, but still demanded obedience. "Take me to where my sisters are. I wish to speak to one that was Stilled. I .. " She searched for the best form of speech that would not give him cause to say no. "I need to know if she is of sound mind."

Muirenn, of sound mind? After Stilling? Not bloody likely.




Maegan Ryanne Sedai

The Highest

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...Asha'man Henri Kenneth, Dedicated Willem Presca, Soldier Nathaniel Reaume, Asha'man Yerrick Spurdsa, Soldier, Dedicated Lari Selame...


Absently, Brent ran his hand over the each inscription as he whispered it silently under his breath.


...Solider Hasaan Werlick, Soldier Thaddeus Yemen, Soldier Jasen Yerling, Dedicated Georg Zen.


Thirty-four.  Thirty-four names engraved forever on a piece of marble and on the hearts of their brothers; their only legacy.  Of the thirty-four, only four were married, one with children.  Thirty men without families.  Some whose families had thrown them out when the ability was discovered, some who abandoned their families to spare them the horror and some whose stories were so tragic that their entire family was dead either because of them or at their own hands.  Thirty men whose only family was their fellow Asha'man; their brothers.  Thirty-four of Brent's brothers lay ten days dead beneath him.


Stepping back from the only lasting monument to thirty of the thirty-four lives lost, Brent wondered why he had wanted this.  He had been so angry at the time.  So many lives had been wasted that day and he worried that when the White Tower came knocking, Dalinar would make those lives worth less from the worms that ate away at their once living bodies.  Brent.  Could.  Not.  Let.  That.  Happen.  He had not been there during the battle and had not seen the remaining Aes Sedai Bonded, but no matter the ethics of the situation, this had to be turned towards the good of the Tower else they would be swept away by vengeful women in red shawls.


That was why he had done it... right?  For the good of the Black Tower.  For the good of his brothers.  Not for his own personal gain?


He was in a foul mood by the time he returned to the desk.  Hungrily, he eyes the bottom drawer whose sole purpose was to hide the bottles of whiskey, brandy and wine he kept there.  Just one glass, just enough to loosen him up...  Brent stomped on the thought even while his hand reached downwards.  He was the M'Hael!  He could not betray his brothers' trust in him by adhereing to needs that would compromise his ability as their leader.  Must be stronger than that!  Must seize this power like saidin; iron self-control, no weakness!


A knock came at the door.  The Illianer responded with an irritated grunt.


"One of the Aes Sedai requests an audience."


"Which one do it be?"


"The Red Sister Bonded to Karminov, Maegan."


Red Sister.  The day kept getting worse and worse.  Light blind him, it was completely in his power to simply turn her away.  He should, at this rate he was likely to flay her with his tongue and possibly digress to physical blows.  However, if a Red Sister had the courage, if it was simply audacity he would flay her, to request an audience, he'd better bloody listen.  Besides, arrogant as these women were, she wasn't likely to take no for an answer anyways and there had been quite enough bloodshed already, he didn't need to start chalking deaths up to leadership decisions already.


"Do be sending her in."


"Do you want..."


Brent growled a warning.  "It do only be one Aes Sedai.  I be more than capable of taking care of myself with one Aes Sedai."


The Asha'man nodded and backed out.  He was quickly followed a shorter woman, whose ageless face left no doubt who she was even if all the Gleemen's stories claimed Aes Sedai were tall as Aiel and had the seductive powers of sirens.  Brent hadn't seen an Aes Sedai before Dumai's Wells and he had been rather disappointed to find they varied as regular people did.  While not a siren, even the M'Hael of the Black Tower couldn't help himself but steal a quick glance from her face to the generous bosom woefully covered.  In a place where women were sparse and those that were here were generally married; married women whose loyalty was strong enough to follow her husband after he discovered he was doomed to die horribly generally weren't about to climb into the arms of the nearest more attractive man.  With dark amusement, Brent wondered whether that might not just be the base of Linten's... attentions toward that Domani Gray.  Dry amusement battling through his black mood, he briefly considered testing the Aes Sedai's sense of humour: "You did be sending thirteen women into a Tower full of sex-deprived men, what did you be expecting?"  Another look at the serious, not that he had ever seen any expression on a calm Aes Sedai's face except seriousness, stifled him.


Brent inclined his head slightly and then stared at the woman.  "Well?"

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Guest Arie Ronshor

Infuriating. Absolutely infuriating. Maegan mused sourly as her foot steps lead her once again to the doors of the M'Haels Quarters. She had seen neither hide nor hair of either Muirenn or the one that had claims over her bond, the M'Hael Dalinor. ::The former M'Hael Dalinor.:: Correcting her own error. All that she ever was able to see of Muirenn were the images in her dreams and she was weaping for her loss of the One Power. Maegan felt no envy nor pity for the aged woman, but her heart still went out to her all the same.


For 10 days Dalinor was to be the leader of the vast encampment they called 'the Farm', and for 10 days Maegan wandered in and out of the Farm and regarded with spittle and eyes that could match hers for that of implied death. For 10 days Maegan had come to understand that she would no sooner speak to the M'Hael than when he decided it was time to speak to her. Serge was informed of very little, and as only a dedicated, treated with the barest respect for he had captured an Aes Sedai, a Red no less, but even he could hide little through the bond as she could from him. Or at least she suspected. He did not question, his mind did not prob, and all he encompassed was a small pall of emotions in the back of her mind that over a few days settled a little more and more as they went through various motions from dawn to dusk.


Motions that for 10 days that now had passed into the eleventh day, Maegan watched blindly. Although it made ignoring the looks of those that lived in the Farm, Maegan could still feel so much of their hatred and her ears picked up more unpleasant thoughts than the simple idea of a Black Ajah. ::Burn me, that is something else I have yet to deal with.:: Using what ever knowledge she could from Serge's unconscious mind, she was able to avoid the very obvious obsticles. Were the boy more studious or observant he may have clued in to what she had so cleverly kept from him but instead his eyes were lowered and his ever present ball of guilt loomed over the two of them. Guilt echoed and mirrored by them both. Against the entire movement from the start, going to the M'Hael and stating an "I told them, but would they listen to me, of course not" did not seem like the most political way of dealing with the situation. If anything it would get her thrown out and stilled along with Light knows what sort of lashing and it would have have gained her absolutely no ground with the Black Tower.


One of the many things Maegan frowned on while staying in the Farm was the amount of childish notions and their way of dealing with discipline. Unfortunatly, they were Male and would need to be forgiven for this over-sight if she was to ever look them in the eye and speak a truth that would not be perceived as anything else. Mae knew better than most that they would not live past their prime age simply because of thier touch to Saidin and the Taint.


"I request to speak to M'Hael Brent Enios." Like every day for the past 10 days, the man looked at her as she spoke these words for the eleventh time, with only the change of name. The quick succession of one M'Hael to the next was bound to be sore on any, and to pile ontop of all this the presence of the Aes Sedai. She could see his movement as he left her there, Serge no where in sight, and returned with a rather sour note to his voice.


"Granted." Clearly the man was not pleased that the M'Hael had accepted this time. "You may go in and address him unhindered. But we are watching you, witch." Maegan did not comment but respectfully bowed her head to the man. He sounded Ebou Dari, or even further west than that. Her to tell without her spectecles on but she would bet on it. Maegan did not bet unless she knew of her wins. Talking to the M'Hael was a different gamble all together. She knew what to expect of the former M'Hael, but this new one had sedated enough of the Farm to be risen in position. It was too difficult to say which way he stood regarding his opinion of Aes Sedai.


Stepping into the room, she squinted a little until her eyes adjusted enough to the light for her to see the desk and the man seated behind it. Anouther moment of weakness, she cursed a little inwardly at her inability to see. The opening comment of the M'Hael told her even less of the man. ::Children.. they are only children, and not your own. Do not scold or favour.. ::


"Congratulations on your promotion, M'Hael. An unexpected turn of events." She could feel the glare of immense hatred emanating from behind the desk. Maegan never was very good at dealing with men when they had the upper hand. And none had a higher hand than hers than the M'Hael and she was all out of playable cards. All but one last Ace. And a very poor one at that. "Among others.. " ::..wince:: Her face completely impassive and soft, and her voice tilted by the Cairhien tongue, she forged onward.


"It is too late for an apology, M'Hael. Especially to the dead, but I offer my condolences on your losses. It was a battle not intended to have occured." The topic was broached and Maegan waited patiently for the tongue and back hand of the M'Hael. Never one to skirt around a subject, Maegan showed nothing but the very backbone of her Red Shawl. And for the first time thankful that she was not wearing it. ::There is no reason to show fear.:: There simply was nothing to fear. Nothing that Maegan would not have readily given up at at any moment.



Maegan Ryanne



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His glare was meant to freeze whatever foolishness the woman had up her sleeves, but she plowed on heedless.  He had dealt with the Aes Sedai before at Dumai's Wells and the sheer level of arrogance, the most humble Aes Sedai could give the most arrogant of Asha'man a run for his money, set his teeth to grinding.  That they expected all of their demands met and refused to admit to any error on their part increduled Brent.  It was as if they thought themselves a higher class of being; incapable of emotion, compassion, fault and wholey omnipotent.  Wasn't it ironic that they could complain about such a trivial thing as a few weeks of captivity while his brothers faced certain doom and worse.  What would have happened had it been the women who broke the world?  Would their positions have just been reversed or was there something different in the way in which men and women handled power?


"It did be a battle that no would have been occuring did the White Tower be simply humbling themselves and asking if a group of Sisters could be entering Tower Grounds."  He wondered how she would take that.  Blow up at him?  Act as if his "insolence" was unfounded and as though he were a naughty pupil instead of the man who held them captive.  "But of course, the great institution of the White Tower could no possibly be wrong in imagining that the Black Tower do no dare touch their Sister simply because they do be "Aes Sedai".  The battle do no have been intended, but it should have been expected.  You did be invading Tower Grounds.  Do no be telling me the White Tower do no have reacted the same if a party of Asha'man did be riding brazen as brass through Tar Valon."  Brent couldn't help his flushed face and his knuckles popped ominously from the anger with which he clenched his fists.


"But do be getting to the point, Aes Sedai.  You did no come here to be offering condolences."

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Guest Arie Ronshor

Calm and collected, Maegan showed nothing less than perfect patience for the man in front of her. She could not fully speak for her sisters since she had been against the idea, although her curiosity had gotten the better of her which was what had enticed her to join the party in the first place, among other things. She did not wish to be the one to measure and weight judgment on either parties and had the unfortunate position to stand in the middle. Perhaps if the Tower were to send a negotiator will there be any release for her and her sisters. However, it was not why she was here. Not the oringinal reason she was here at all.


"We did not enter directly into your farm, but outside. It is a technicallity, but at least keep the facts straight, shall we?" She paused for a moment, and she could hear the man breath in to speak again, perhaps swallowing it there was only teeth grinding. A terrible habit. "However I am not here to discuss terms for my sisters and I. We, _I have nothing to offer you in my position, a captive. And I will not speak for the Tower. The Hall will send one of their own to do so." Not tone of ire or bitterness in her voice, Maegan spoke softly, perhaps even warmly. "And this will be a long discussion, I believe, do you mind if I sit?" There was a hand wave. There was a quirk to her smile now, the man was not happy. Not in the least.


"The point of my visit was to speak directly to you." She paused, "mayhaps not you in specific, but the M'Hael of the Black Tower. There was an Item that was put in my possession that I felt you should have knowledge of. Unfortunatly I was relieved of such objects after the.. Battle. A stone in a wooden box." She licked her lips, cleaning the distaste fow such a word. Battle was not something Maegan could ever condone. She was a scholar, not a warrior. "The Item is from the Age of Legends, and I do believe it would be in your best interest to at least see what I have to show you."




Maegan Ryanne

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The arrogance of the woman grated sorely on Brent's nerves.  That she, a captive and prisoner, would flounce in here and nag him about technicalities!  As if that suddenly put the Black Tower in the wrong and the White Tower once against stood in its pedestle, claiming they knew what was best for the world.  This arrogance and self-righteousness had been what had drawn him to Linten.  Aes Sedai being put back in their places, equality for the Black Tower!  These were good things!  But not by Linten's means.  Motive should not justify means; there was always a better way around a problem.  Torture?  How did that make them any better than the Shadow or the monsters the world portrayed them as.


"Do it now?" Brent sneered, Illianer brogue thick.  "And by what authority do you be making that statement?  What do be in the Black Tower's interest do be keeping its bargaining chip safe and out of the way of its normal runnings.  I do be taking time out of my schedule to be listening to you, please do no be telling me what do be in my best interest.  I be discerning that for myself, thank you."  Sitting back, he tried to calm himself.  This was not the time to lose control of his anger.


Adopting a more moderate tone, Brent went on.  "Do no be expecting me to take your word at face value, whatever your Oaths be, Aes Sedai.  We both be knowing you be more than capable of talking your way around them.  What do this ter'angreal be capable of, and why do you be thinking I be interested in what you be wanting to show me?  Start explaining Aes Sedai, right now I do no be conviced to be letting you anywhere near that ter'angreal, let alone channelling and using it near me."

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Guest Arie Ronshor



There was a particular reason Maegan avoided the southern parts of the world. The man going off in attempts to drop her form a peg or two, a headache started to form merely by trying to follow the broken english. Resisting the urge to rub her temples at the onslaught of a headache, she smiled softly, carefully.


"I come on my own Authority, and none other. I swear by each oath, especially the Oath I've sworn twice now, that I will do you no harm. I live by technicalities. I am a scholar and a scientist, not a politician. I have no need for words that mean to betray. I leave that to the Blue sisters."


Maegan gave him a moment to understand the meaning behind her words, hoping it could sooth but a little of his irritation. "As for the Ter'Angreal, there is little I can tell you without having you see what it can do. It is as much a part of your history as it is mine and could very well show you a part of the future." Crossing her legs, beheather her skirts, she continued. "This Ter'Angreal displays an image of a man that has been taken by the Taint which was in turn sent to the Tower. Hidden during Bonhwin reign as Amyrlin."


Her eyes very intent burrowed deep with in him, challenging him to question, to contemplate the possibility that his little world within the Black Tower, his position, was about to be granted the most profound peice of knowledge that will put to question everything he believed regarding his own Tower but also the White. More specifically the Red. Leaning forward in her chair a little, she watched him carefully. Planting peices of careful information to give him but a taste, and if he were to have any form of curiosity, perhaps he may bite. Perhaps."I do not wish to hinder you judgement or opinion. You have the look of a bright young man, worthy of your elated position and not one to hasty decisions. If you do not wish to hear what I have to say, what I have to show you, than I will leave you this night and not return unless you were to call upon me. But I will send other sisters, in hopes that you will wish to hear and see, some are not so.. pleasant as I and wish to keep the current ways. I do not."


"Choose, M'Hael."



Maegan Ryanne

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Half a decade back, Brent would not have dared look a noble in the face.  Before Dumai's Wells he would not have been able to be in a mile's radius of an Aes Sedai without his first though begin of retreat.  Since these Aes Sedai had so rudely barged into the Black Tower- his Black Tower, Brent felt only irritation around the women.  Now he met this one stare for stare; blue eyes meeting hers in a show of defiance undreamt of by his kind before the Dragon Reborn and his amnesty.  If a Red Sister and a male channeller could sit face to face in a room without either grabbing for the Source, surely it would not be too much to dream of equality in the near future.  A future Brent was, unfortunately, unlikely to ever see.


At the description of the ter'angreal, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.  Despite the amazing ability to see one of his brothers from three thouasand years ago, the M'Hael was confused as to why exactly she was so intent on having him see this.  He wasn't altogether paranoid of her motives, but three thousand years of playing the mouse to her cat bred distrust and prejudice in even the most open of minds and Brent wasn't particularly open-minded.  This wasn't just a gesture of goodwill from the White Tower to the Black; free sharing of knowledge might be a reality for the next generation of his kind, assuming the Light won the Last Battle, and perhaps the newest soldiers may yet see it, but Brent had been channelling for some six years.  Every day another grain fell through the hourglass.


"If do be pleasant for an Aes Sedai, remind me to be keeping far away from the unpleasant ones." he snorted.  "I do be willing to listen and would be lying if I no be admitting to a certain amount of interest in seeing a man who did be living before this wretched curse did be put upon men like me.  But I do be asking why?  What do you be standing to gain from this?  You no be showing me this for no reason."

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Guest Arie Ronshor



Maegan swallowed a retort to his comment about how 'pleasant' she was. Perhaps that had not been the best words to use in any argument, but even the Highest was bound to have a moment of fallibility. Her sarcasm tended to show more in a time of tribulation, for which was something Maegan could not afford. Not in this room, or with this man or in this sanctuary built to harbor what she and her sisters have hunted for hundreds of years. Challenging him as to whether she was a 'pleasant' Aes Sedai would do her no good.


"I can not answer why." Maegan said simply. "I can tell you no more than I already have."


Folding her arms as she sat, Maegan tilted her head, as if thinking harder on the questions more than she could already have. What did she have to gain? A brother? An Enemy? There was much that she had to gain by this prospect. Gazing at the M'Hael, there was a tone to his voice that Maegan withheld smiling at. A noted tiredness, fatigue brought on by years of survival that would all too soon be stripped bare. He wanted an end to all of this as much as she did. Despising what reputation her Shawl had accumulated, too many sisters actually behaved and believed like the Man-Haters they were made out to be, Maegan wanted nothing more than to scatter it to the four winds.


"I have no more to gain than you. However, I have everything to lose." The admittance no doubt brought up an eyebrow on the man's face. She would see his face soon enough. "You have nothing to lose by my offer M'Hael. It is your secret to tell, to share and no one would be of the wiser."


Maegan paused for effect.


"Perhaps I have wasted your time, Brent Enios. I have nothing but all the time in the world. You need only to show me the door."



Maegan Ryanne

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Guest Arie Ronshor

He sat and stared at her for some time. It wasn’t an intention attempt to discomfort her, he was just trying to decide still. In its original purpose, perhaps, the First Oath might have made every word out of an Aes Sedai’s mouth believable. However, after three thousand years of learning to live with the inability to tell a lie, Aes Sedai had adapted to the constrictions so that there weren’t any constrictions any longer. Now the First Oath simply had Brent weighing every possible meaning of her every word.


After thinking himself through the same train of thought for the third time, he found himself inclined to believe her. There was definitely more to this than she was letting on, but she didn’t seem like some sort of reckless Green that would pull a suicide mission just to depose him. There would be no sense in that anyhow, he had only just been promoted to his position and the Black Tower was simply full of new possible M’Hael’s. Besides, if he was assassinated, the White Tower would most likely be stuck negotiating with Linten, and that would not end well. As much as Brent was able to look down on these women as he held them hostage, he only forgot their intelligence at his own peril.


“Will this be requiring you to channel? I do no think the other men be pleased if I do no warn them beforehand and they do suddenly be feeling the presence of saidar alone with their M’Hael. We would no want you attacked and Severed before I could be explaining. After all, they could be sending me a less pleasant Aes Sedai next time.” Brent allowed the hint of a smile, bordering on smirk, pass across his face before standing.


“Now let us go be finding this ter’angreal, hmm?” he said, gesturing her to follow out the door and past smouldering glare the Dedicated guarding the door. Nodding his head just to annoy the man, who was almost assuredly one of Linten’s lot, the Illianer led Maegan out of the building and across the Farm. Worried that the rest of the Black Tower might read more into this than there was, Brent curled his hands into fists and tensed his shoulders, adopting a more furious look. He couldn’t let himself look too relaxed around a Red, especially with Linten’s group of “followers” watching. Light, the boy from the Perfumed Quarters was playing at Daes Dae’mar! How in the Light was he supposed to balance the White Tower and Linten without being stripped of his rank, the One Power and probably life in the process? ‘Fortune prick me, why did I be wanting this in the first place?’


Finally, when Brent’s shoulders were getting sore from keeping them tense, they got to the right building. There was an Asha’man and Dedicated inside to guard the precious contents, but they were sent outside with a simple grunt and hand gesture. “Do be staying here.” he told Maegan as he exited the lobby-like front room through the doorway at the back. Taking the hallway towards one of the back rooms, the ter’angreal she had described was easy to pick out from the rest of the objects in the room. Hefting the odd box...thing, which weighed like it might be made of stone, he carried it back out to her.


“This do be what you be talking about, no?” Seizing saidin, Brent set it down on a table he made from Air. “I be holding the One Power while you be doing this, else the others may be getting worried that you do be taking advantage of me somehow.” he smirked.

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Simple mistakes, over confident slips, these were the corner stones to the unseating of those who loosely held power and sway but for a season. A little pressure here in conversation, a little pressure there in whispered action, and they fell from their heights with great shame and lose. It was the game that all walks of life in this Age and those that pasted played at to one degree or another. Up until recently it had served Linten greatly well in its snug embrace. But he too had felt it's bitter sting if only so slight. Slipping the collection of parchments back into the wooden box, the wards reset for any fool simpleminded enough to attempt to pry in his affairs, memories of that recent bitter wound resurfaced again. Brent Enios, a one time supposed friend, a now bitter if civil foe. Brent had been one of the many that had come to Linten's circles of his own accord first. It had been a slow and arduous process but the network at his fingertips had steadily grown in the wake of that fool Dalinar. A task made easier each day as the man continued to slip, power over the Tower in constant shift unbeknownst to him. That secreted darkness had allowed Linten to accomplish much in the past, put greater faith in some of his more lasting associations. It was through one of those associations it seemed that Brent has been introduced to a new vision, water for an unseen thirst. Even his first meetings with the man had continued to reinforce those idea's and feelings.


His fist curled on the table, knuckles whitening. Perhaps that was why the mutiny had cut so deep. Perhaps more rightly was the plain stupid truth of the matter that Linten had needed a friend. As he and Isha continued to drift further apart, watched resentment and suspicion grow bigger between them, Linten had found the need to talk to someone. Brent had all the makings of a usable figurehead. Men seemed to find a reality with him that so many had craved since their isolation at the cursed touch of Saidin. But he had not suspected the puppet to have teeth, or to bite back.


~So quick to put faith in the damned. I told you they would turn, told you to kill them while you had a chance. Now the world is doomed and us along with it.~


You are so quick to thirst for blood, are the witches at hand not enough to quell your voracious appetite at least a little?


~Does the rabid dog take a moment to select his prey amongst the flock or take that which is easiest to prey upon and dream of the tender still within the Shepard's care?~


So you are mad?


~I am I? Who sits in the near dark and speaks to no form in his presence? Who would trade up his fellow cursed for the genuine warm embrace of flesh be she witch or not?~


You are the Dark Ones own spirit I am cursed with. Doomed to madness at the hand of the Father of Lies, unseen, and unable to exact my revenge.


The soft wrap at the door brought his head around swiftly and almost Saidin to his hand. It took slightly more conscious effort not to draw the One Power in during moments like these. A situation that tried to concern him on a deeper level, attempted to sound alarm bells in his deep subconscious. But with the noise of another and the focus on his great required plans, Linten's deep subconscious held no voice. “Come,” the command was simply that in it's truest existence. The man that stepped lightly into the room closed the door behind him quickly, set the note to the edge of the small desk and slipped out again. No words or suggestions as to the missives contents nor a greeting. He knew his job and did it well. Lifting the parchment it took but a moment to read it's basic contents.


~Even the closest of pets can turn on their master, as you will before the Age breaks and comes anew.~


In that moment Linten was unsure if it was indeed his doing or that of the raving lunatic that shared his mind. But the parchment burst alight as a net of woven fire embraced it. Brent had company, company that had remained with him as they departed for a storage space like no other in the Black Tower. The outside of the building maybe plain and rather simplistic. But it's contents were far from the same. Rising he hastened outside, taking only a moment to whisper a few brief words to the two at seemingly idle chat near by. In his studies of the methods and workings of the Dark Lord, Linten had gleaned several useful idea's that had worked greatly in his favor so far. The small group meetings he had instilled among his like minded friends, if they could be classed as such. Ensured that no one but himself truly new who all the members of his underground alliance were and what those exact numbers might be. A procedure that had proved it's worth when Brent had taken to forgetting why he had found need in Linten in the first place. That stupid maneuver had cost him some additional men's loyalty as well. But the fungus had been restricted in size and quickly carved out to quell any further separating thoughts.


By the time he had arrived at the outer door to the building, several men had suddenly found it an interesting place to mill around. There was no way to say for sure if they were indeed Linten's men, Brent's men, or just fools caught in the wrong place. Linten knew the ties and hearts of almost all of them. One of two set to watch the stores door was not under his direct influence but knew enough at least not to press his luck in the presence of a man who's tenure on the present reality might not be as strong a grasp as it once had. The perception served Linten's purpose for now so he had done nothing to contradict it yet. With a nod the man's eyes scanned the busier area around them now and quickly found his hand in favor of his own skin. Easing the latch slowly Linten swung the door open enough to gain entrance.


“And we wouldn't want that to happen now would we my old friend.” From the first tumble of words Saidin poured into him, his grin cold and calculating as it swept from Brent's dark gaze to the witch while he leaned leisurely on the door frame. “Which is why I am sure you will find no objection in my presence and own embrace while we witness the great necessity that the witch deems so preciously important.” His eyes lingered intently on the ample swell of her bosom. A Red if his memory and those that carried whispers to him were correct. Pity he did not have access to her yet, the corner of his mouth pulled slightly higher as his gaze lifted back to her eyes, they could have a lot of fun together.


OOC: Hey you two, the thread was listed as open, hope you don't mind me dropping in. If it's a problem just let me know and I'll delete the post for ya. :D




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There wasn’t anybody else in the world that Brent wanted to see less, just then, than Linten.  While he could not afford to tear into the man, nor make his absolute fury plain, the telling clenched jaw and pink forehead were hint enough to the other two in the room, should they care to be watching.  Judging by the leering and scowling by Linten and Maegan, respectively, no one gave a damn about the Illianer on the verge of letting loose the tongue he learned on the docks before he was even old enough to understand what any of it meant.  The bloody bastard had spies everywhere!  Brent couldn’t burp without someone reporting it to Linten and then twisted little Andoran would find some way to turn it in his favour.  It seemed that nothing he tried, nor any amount of power except, perhaps, a direct order by the Dragon bloody reborn himself, could dislodge Linten from his position as the not-so-secret master of some sick and twisted conspiracy that very well reeked of the Taint.  However, even if Brent called the Andoran out for his insanity, the level of support the other man had would call any action taken against their great spider murder; the M’Hael would be stripped of his position and his head hanging from the Traitor’s tree before his blood could run cold.


And the worst part: he had once trusted and respected this crazy son of a bitch.


“”We”?  “Old friend”?  Now, now, Linten, you do no be coming to forgive me, do you?”  There was no humour on Brent’s face and his voice held only icy anger, raging close to the surface and barely controlled.  Already holding saidin, he drew in more, as much as Linten was capable of holding and yet not close to Brent’s potential—take that for a veiled threat!  “Objections?  The more people we crowd in here holding the One Power, the more likely one of us is going to get hurt.  I’d hate for that to be you, “old friend”.”



The air changed drastically as even one blind and completely without sight or sense would know there was a common dislike and could cut the tension between the two men. Blind though she may be, but instead of a sword Maegan consorted to the more humour side of her personality -as she was wont to do in precarious times- and laughed out loud. Shame there was no joke to the situation.


"Put those eyes back into your head, Asha'man. I have no intention of robbing your cradle, nor any other for that matter. I'm sure you are a stunning young gentleman, to which I am flattered," truly she was flattered enough to strike at him. Her smile did not betray her "but you are not my type."


Tilting her head to actually 'look' at him, there was a smile of mirth to her lips.


"To clarify, I am no witch. I carry no broom nor hang shrunken heads on my door—although yours may make a first."  The last was added as an afterthought. She giggled at her own joke. "For a man that holds a similar post, would that not also make you a witch?


"For that matter, to judge another based on origin is not just a form of racism? For a camp full of channelling men of varied origins, to call me a witch would only cast you as a hypocrite." She could feel the man seething over each of her words. But her voice stayed light and without conviction. There was no need for her tone to rip into him when her words were irritating him.


She waved her hand dismissively as if bored, "But politics are of no care to me. My oaths swear it true. And your M'Hael is perfectly capable of assisting me without need of a babysitter."


Maegan grinned as she dared not look at the M'Hael Brent for fear of giving herself away. "A babysitter! Why I do not see Master Brent with a doll or wooden sword in hand and you with a string tied to his back. No, no..." Pause. "He can handle me well enough on his own -shield me if necessary- without your assistance."


But the challenge was there and she spoke it in spite of herself. Should he take her bait, from a simple Aes Sedai, then he could be dismissed and destroyed as a traitor. "...or do you think the M'Hael is incapable of any action without help. Specifically your help? Do you not trust your appointed M'Hael?"


::Too far, Mae.. but...:: it had to be said. Her face could not have been sweeter. Eyes glazed over unable to read the man’s face. No doubt his hate would show in more than his face-assuming he could control it.



Every word out of the Aes Sedai’s mouth made him wince more.  In any other setting, Brent might have laughed along, adding his own quips about his enemy, but not here—not when the man was right bloody there, surging with saidin and with a more murderous look on his face than the Illianer had ever see or ever cared to see again.  At this rate, this was going to end in a bloodbath that was likely never to be resolved until both of the Towers had demolished each other.  The world could simply not afford a war between two factions of channellers who, with a simple few weaves, could demolish entire villages.  What would happen to a city like Tar Valon or Caemlyn if there was a big showdown?  People would be massacred in the thousands, innocents caught in the crossfire of two warring powers against whose weapons they had no shield.


The woman was bloody suicidal!  Else she was a complete idiot—something Brent was no longer ruling out of the question.  Hadn’t she heard rumours about what Linten was capable of?  Didn’t she have enough sense not to provoke her captors?  It wouldn’t just be her death either—that wasn’t Linten’s style.  Blood and ashes, he’d likely let her live as a warning to the White Tower; a warning that would bring war on them all and doom the world to a second breaking.  Brent might as well hand the world over to the Dark One on a silver platter if he let this go on!


Utterly furious and motivated by fear, his open palm swung around of its own accord.  The slap! resonated in the empty room, the Red Sister’s shock exclaimed on the heels of the final reverberations of the initial contact.  “Both of you be shutting your bloody, flaming mouths!  Do it be your sole intentions to be bringing war and suffering on the entire world with your stupid flaming needs to be prodding at an infectious wound, the do be unlikely to heal unless everyone can bloody-well be growing up!  Be going to the Pit of Doom, both of you!  I would be letting you two blow each other to fish bait if I did no be so blood scared that you would be taking the entire world down with you!”


Digging even deeper into saidin, fighting its raging current as much as he fought to keep a hold on his rage lest he lose the Void, flows of Air jumped into being.  A pair of Shields became an invisible barrier between the two idiots, forcing both of them to opposite side of the room; Maegan didn’t seem to struggle much against the invisible force pushing her towards the back of the room while Linten was not as compliant.


“You get out of here now, Linten!  Or Creator be helping me, I swear your head do be decorating the Traitor’s tree before I be even letting your heart stop its beating!”  Risking that Maegan might turn on him, Brent released the flows keeping her back and focused his considerable strength on Linten.  Get out now!


ooc: Brent's strength is something like 38, which makes him a good deal stronger than Linten.  This won't help matters at all between them, but attacking him would be a suicide move on Linten's part, even with cronies as Brent has access to a storageroom full of angreal and would likely Link with Mae if it came to that.

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Linten's blood boiled and seethed under a hair thin level of control. The witch's tongue continued to flap unrestrained. If he had the moment of forethought he might have found interest and gain in the freedom that Brent lent her to slander and further ridicule and condemn the men cursed to the black cloth and servitude to the Dragon. There were ears that could be turned with evidence such as that transpiring before him. But his hatred and fear of the Aes Sedai and those of Red who hunted men, leaving them to a slow and unforgiving death, overwhelmed him and kept his focus on her head. A pretty trophy to be severed from it's delicate neck and boiled till all remains of flesh had been removed from the stark white skull. An Aes Sedai dedicated to the White Tower, returned to the White Tower in equally brilliant white. That and a myriad of other options came and went as he stiffened under her verbal assault and readied to let fly a lesson she would not soon forget.


His chance cut short as Brent finally found his tongue and his wits about him. The resounding slap only the barest of of starts to the vengeance Linten's mind demanded for her treacherous tongue. He would see her begging for deaths releasing blow before sunset if Brent would see true light. Instead a solid wall of air pressed on him, forcing him back. The first step he accepted but after that a greater resistance he placed. He left Saidin and it's sweet calling in his grasp, unused. To do so now against Brent while he held his full potential would be literal suicide. As if to enforce the idea Linten seen the weave pushing the witch back dissolve and the one against him double. There was little chance of fighting this further and still finding a gain. He would have to alter his tactics if there was any chance at remaining in the room and perhaps learning something that might allow him to make a very private and very personal visit with this high and mighty fool of a woman. It was a calculated risk but one that was needed. Stepping back freely, Linten released his hold on Saidin but maintained his grasp on the void. “If you preferred I did not hold Saidin M'Hael then all you need do is ask. I don't know why you feel such need to force your will when I am happy to comply if requested of me?” By now the considerable draw on Saidin had created quite a gathering outside and Linten used his elevated voice to ensure the conversation carried to those outside.


When one was against superior power, it was a good idea to find added strength in sway and collective thought. Pressed to the room with little more then space to exit the building Linten offered Brent a crisp and perfect salute, “I am only here to ensure your own safety M'Hael. After what happened to our last leader it would be a shame to lose you as well. Do not get me wrong, I do not believe you incapable of defending yourself. But we have all seen what her kind is capable of when underestimated. The brethren we buried at their arrival amply speaks to that.” Thanks to that added help of several in the now growing crowd who understood and followed Linten's vision of the future, a murmur had begun to rise form the gathering as they remembered their fallen friends that day. Power was not just in what a person could wield on their own. Power was also how well a person could bring judgment and thought to a common need in a time when it served it's best purpose. “We all worry for your safety,” his arm sweeping to indicate the crowd outside and returned to point directly at Maegan across the room. “While they roam our home and only sanctuary. A sanctuary granted to us by the Dragon Reborn himself and violated by these blood thirsty women who have hunted our forefathers for years.” It took concentration to keep the satisfaction and joy from showing on his blank face as the murmur rippling through the gathering increased in fervor. “I am but a member of this Tower and only wish to see you safe. If you prefer to hold Saidin alone I will not embrace the source. But do not cast out a witness to watch your back should there be more then what is suggested in this visit she offers. We are not ready to lose you M'Hael, we can not afford it.”




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Funny how one minute Linten was a cock-sure bastard demanding the world and, suddenly, when his back was against the wall, he became the most pleasant of diplomats.  The worst part was that the swine was at his most manipulative when he was being diplomatic.  Or perhaps the worst part was that the door was open and a whole group of Linten’s cronies had gathered round to witness the fall-out of the clash.  In any case, Brent was spitting mad and ready to risk everything just for the chance to reduce him to a pile of ash.  However, it was unlikely any successor would be free of the Andoran’s poison either, after all, hadn’t it been Linten who had planted the idea to supplant Dalinar in Brent’s head; hadn’t it been Linten’s plan, in the beginning, before Brent grew uneasy with the shadowy dealings and broke away; hadn’t they even been friends, as much as Linten had “friends”?


Light, how Brent hated politics.  He was a sailor and soldier, not a diplomat!  Fortune prick him, he had grown up in the Perfumed Quarters, not Cairhien.  All the politics he knew came mostly from Linten himself and here he was, student trying to outsmart the master.  ‘You do be a bloody fool, Brent.’


“Well if you do be so willing to be complying, my old friend,” there was far too much bite in those words for animosity to go unnoticed, even by those at the back of the small crowd, “you do be forgiving my rash behaviour.  Surely my paranoia do be warranted under the circumstances, no?  As you be saying, I do no be wanting to end up like my predecessor did almost be meeting his end.”  Let Linten and his “friends” chew on that.  Truth was, though, that if he hadn’t disagreed with Linten on the subject of Dalinar’s assassination, the current M’Hael would be a mere puppet on the Andoran’s strings.


Like the other man’s, Brent’s words were addressed to the gathered assembly as much as to his political opponent; once they were inside though and the door closed behind, the Illianer dropped his heavily accented voice.  “Do no be daring to think that I do no care about our brethren’s deaths as much as you.  I, though, be working on a way to be preventing this Watchers debacle from ever being repeated—while no tearing down the world with me.  A war between the Towers do be having many more deaths, or do that be your aim, Shadowspan?”

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Guest Arie Ronshor


As the two men talked, Maegan withdrew into her mind more than give voice to her concerns. It was rare she was placed in such a position for her words to carry little weight and it caused a certain discord in within her. She trapped it and pounded it away for anouther time to deal with. It would do her no good to loose her life and cause another succession in the Black Tower. She barely knew this M'Hael but the likes of Asha'man Linten made her toes curl.


Linten's mannerisms however tugged at her like so few had. Had she not come across it at anouther time or place she would have considered it just an aspect of the Taint, and the madness that followed with such men. Be that as it may, the control in the mans voice alone, the way with his words, Maegan knew instantly that this was no sane man. There was no taint that had yet to become him and his very words were but the perfect example of a Game that a Cairhien had become so fond of. Scolding herself halfway up dragonmount and back, her previous words of mockery would only have place her in this mans attentions. A man taken by the taint would not have responded in kind, not like Linten had.


Her face schooled tightly as she watched Linten through the blurs of her impaired vision as best she could. The rumors around the yard had not done him justice. This was no man that should have ever survived his mothers womb, be it Light or Shadow, the mans soul was forfeited by the very passion that riddled him. It took Maegan a great deal of will power not to take a sharp or blunted object and embed it into the vile man's chest. Every confrontation she has ever had with men like Linten resulted in her nearly undressed and the man dead. Too many close calls. Far too many and with a man that could channel she doubted that odds were in her favour. No, she will see herself dead before he could lay a hand on her.


Subject at hand, Maegan thought carefully as to how to handle the situation. Clearly it was better to keep the man close and with company than off doing light knew what. Arms crossed against her chest, a hand tapped at her own cheek thoughtfully. Her words barely a whisper and doubtful that even Brent had heard her. "The Towers must be united at Taimon Gaidon." Looking back to Brent, Linten still in her view.


"Perhaps it is best he knew the truth as well. If neither of you are familiar with the Old Tongue I suggest you bring forth a man well trusted," her words pointedly directed at the M'Hael, "to confirm my own. The less room for lies will keep things far clearer." Maegan gave little if not no acknowledgment to the Asha'man or his desires to stay. After all, if the issue was forced and the man left darker seeds would be sown than what he would learn today.


Light guide her... ::Please let me live past this day.. ::




Maegan Ryanne


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  • 1 year later...

COMPLETING THIS THREAD - This is now a closed RP.

Note: This has nothing to do with what is happening now. Knowledge contained here was never revealed.




His face was bordering on purple when Linten sneered and replied with “Of course not M’Hael.  I’m sure you’re doing what’s best for us all.  After all, we picked you to lead us after Dalinar’s... untimely end.  We must stand by our choice’s decisions.”  In that moment, Brent wanted nothing more in the world than to strangle that expression off the Andoran’s face.  ‘He do be daring to insinuate that I did kill Dalinar!  The two-faced, bastard!  Someday I do be seeing whether you be keeping that expression on your face when I do be gutting you!’


Maegan’s muttered words "The Towers must be united at Taimon Gaidon." reminded the M’Hael that he could not simply kill Linten in front of this crowd of people.  In response to the Red’s request, Brent addressed those assembled rather more gruffly than he intended.  “I do be needing someone who can be understanding the Old Tongue.”


An older Asha’man stepped forward.  Without a word, Brent went back into the building and simply waited for the rest to follow.


“Alright Maegan,” he handed her the ter’angreal, “let’s be getting this over with so we can be going back to our lives.”  The Illianer sent Linten a murderous glare.  The other Asha’man smiled back, mocking him.  Light, Brent wanting nothing more than to be getting out of that room.





Wearily Maegan stepped forward and accepted the small Ter'Angreal from M'Hael Brents hands. Although she had no desire to allow this information to be carried swiftly across the Black Tower Maegan was beginning to realize that anything she may wish or want would turn out very differently than any planned intention that she may have had at the beginning of this journey. Everything had gone wrong and now so many were dead and buried or stilled. Burn her, let at least one semblance of hope and fortune weave it's way into the pattern with her next actions. Creator guider her words and give her strength. Even after all that was said and done it will still not be over.


"To active, it requires Spirit and Fire woven in such a way. If you could see Saidar I would demonstrate but there is little else I could inform you with. I swear by the light and hope of my salvation that every word I speak is true to the best of my knowledge."


A quick glance at Ashaman Linten and the new comer her eyes turned to Brent. To him her eyes buried deeply as emotion for once was allowed to touch her face, her eyes sad and her pain bare. Brief, she uttered one last thing before embracing Saidar. "Forgive me. I only did what I did because I knew no else. I am sorry."


Saidar filled her to the brim and Maegan could see the winces from all the men in the room and that ferrel look in their eyes at her touch. If she did not know better, Maegan would guess that they could feel her channel. Was it even possible? Burn her, She will need her Hair Pins returned before the day is out. Weaving carefully, the Ter'Angreal floated to a place just a hair above the groud int he middle of the room right between herself and Brent. A hundred times she played the Ter'Angreal, and over and over again she felt the pain for not only her loss but that of her sisters and her brothers. First hand, Maegan knew the impact of this Ter'Angreal and had wept over it numerous times. Still a hundred times again, she wanted to weep. Weep for the dead, the long dead and the returned now dead.


If only she had known this the moment she met Briarden. How much would that meeting have changed? If only Caemlyn. . . On and on her thoughts raced as the room changed.


The pool of radiant light had formed into colors and shaped itself into the figure of a man. He was tall and handsome by her standards, with thin mustashes laying like feathers neatly trimmed on his lip. At his side was a long warder's sword with a heron's mark. He was not well muscled... instead thin and lithe... like a reed. His eyes were blue and held an intensity of the sea before a storm. Were it not for the threads of Saidar Maegan wove, moving in and out of him, one could easily mistake him for something real and solid.


The man's hair was long and dark and pulled back from his face. On his forehead he wore something that looked like a handori of the Malkari with a singular object that likely held all the gatherer's attention; a small medallion, the ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai.


One did not have to be an Aes Sedai with their talent for reading people to see that his eyes were focused upon the imagined image of someone he thought would know him and likely cared deeply for him. To Maegan, she loved him.


His gaze had this way of seeming to look right through a woman to her very soul. It would be clear, to even a novice, that he had something on his mind and it weighed him down greatly. And then, just as everyone was getting use to the sight of a man from another age; suddenly they were startled anew to hear a voice come forth from his lips in a strange alien voice that seemed to speak on top of itself as if two or three men in his voice were speaking at once.


Maegan's words lilted to accommodate the accent as she translated from perfect memory; Old Tongue.


"Sister," she began emotionlessly repeating his word that seemed to speak of a deeper love than the word could ever have meant to her before having 'met' him.


"I'm reminded, looking across the ocean and it's calm today, of the sky the day we last sat together on the steps of the Hall of Servants in Paaran Disen." A glimmer comes to his eye and he manages to blink it back. "I wanted to give up then," a smile grows on his face that threatens to touch his eyes even as sadness builds there. Obviously the happy memory, in his dark moment, is nearly too much to bear.


"but it was your conviction and courage, that fire in your eyes; your voice; your heart that not only stirred the Hall to hope when the world would say we had none; but in me as well. For that, and this dream that I am dying in, I can not. . . begin to give you thanks enough. Had you not earned the Name already; if the world were as it was," The man carefully touches his knuckles to his lips and then puts it over his heart in a manner that was similar to what the Shienarans did still today. Maegan, along with her other sisters, always marveled at the ceremony and importance the word carried in his tone. He might as well have named her Amyrlin for the reverence he seemed to lend to it.


But his pause did not last, and his lovely face was once again lined heavy with regret. "I'm afraid the news is not good and so I send to you this recorder in the hopes that it finds you before my compatriots do." The man swallowed a deep pause, his tone carrying mountains of emotion to a woman no one would ever know.


"Despite all the research, all your wisdom and advice and your prayers, the experiment has resulted in failure and worse for some. The taint grew in those who offered themselves to the testing, and they are like their brothers before them." In her mind, Maegan could only see the rotting corpse of every Briarden who forced her to take his life instead of stilling. The dust that was left of his bones after all was said and done. Others, she'd ever nursed through their darkest, most hate filled, and lonely hours when all the world had rejected him but her and the sisters of the Red Ajah.


"I fear some who know where you were held up are coming for you and your ajah.. and they are, most assuredly, in worse conditions than I, mentally. Never fear though, I did not betray you, I have kept my honor. I know you will survive to reach your destination safely." The man winces a moment, a touch to his head with his hand and his image wavers slightly as if it means to fade away.


Maegan winced visibly for the man, he was fighting his pain in order to hold the weaves together which had somehow recorded his image and voice the way Browns recorded words in a book with a pen. He was, indeed, far gone and it was a testament to his love that he could keep his thoughts and wits enough to make this message.


"I have stopped who I could but I lack the strength to cut the weaves of so many different portals. And so now, I fear, the world is suffering as I record this message. In not stopping them, I have failed them as a Servant, but I take little solace that I will not live to see what has been done. This message, Sister, is my only consolation to the souls I and my brothers unwittingly have endangered and I fear that my gift to them must be a burden upon you."


The man wets his lips and seems to focus more intently as he continues, "Your speech to the Hall has remained with me these long days and nights. In all this time I have contemplated what would become of the world should every man find himself in danger of being as we are, a sword at the throats of his sons and a plague of death upon his daughters, a misery which could only rot the soul of his wife just as I too am rotting, and I" The man grits his teeth and in spite of herself, Maegan fought back the tears.


"I can not bear the thought of this more, than I ever loved this gift I have been given; which has now, through our arrogance, been turned into a curse. And so I know without doubt or fear, what must be done; but Sister, I will not live to do it and so I must ask you and your ajah Sisters to take up your words spoken that day, from this day on, as an Oath."


"If ever you felt anything for our bond Sister, do not let this fate be that of our world. Guardians of Humanity, that was what you called the Hall of Servants in this dark hour of the world and so you must promise to be always."


"Ever to Watch, and Ever to Guard not just their lives which are so fleeting in the Creator's sight, but to Ever Watch and Guard our world and the hope of a future. A future which I know that you see with the greatest of clarity."


"I have seen the love you have in your eyes and heart for even those who have hated you, and it is this strength to love that you must shelter in this storm of Ages. Fan it to life in each young girl who comes to learn from you. Show her how to not fear the dark and the end which comes to all things, but to instead build up the Light within her own heart, so brightly, that it can shine as a guide for others who are so lost in this night that has fallen upon our world."


His lip quivers, and it clear the words that come next are a struggle. "Love us, enough to steal it away." A pregnant pause leaves a silence that could be cut with a knife. Perhaps the woman who was to hear this in the past did not know what he meant, but every woman in the Red Ajah, in the age of the Dragon Reborn, did.


"Take the pleasure before it can be truly known to us Sister. Steel Saidin from them that they may never feel it's song or it's sickness until a remedy is found." The man's words were not spoken with eloquence at this point, though they were beautiful in their own way.


"In time, as with all things, these men will pass from our world and the madness will destroy the last of those who were once truly great and in that lull, you and your ajah must go forward with that courage and love and seek out all would-be students where they reside and end their pain before their pain begins. You must have the strength to grant them this mercy, though they may die just the same for the loss, they need not suffer so greatly as . . . as those before them."


"Let their families love them, if they have the strength and if they do not, you must be to them as you have to me." The image of the beautiful man fades away and a rotting corpse stands in all it's agony where the man had been only a second before. Clearly the recorder had beheld a powerful illusion the man had built around himself and this was the result, and the true tale of his terrible suffering.


"I can not come to you as THIS, thing." He nearly spit's the word. "I can see you there now in your horror of me and my suffering, and how your Sisters must be comforting you. and it is in their embrace you must find your strength. Let their love and care be your legs when you have none left to stand upon. When all that you are is questioned and besmeared by the world. when you are haunted by the memory of what you have done and hated for what you must do, in times when men have forgotten what my brothers and I have done to their world… THEY will remember. THEY will love you as I have loved you," His voice drops to a whisper another tear flowing down his cheek freely, "As, I love you."


The man unsheathes his sword. "The color of your banner Sister, let it be your reminder of those who have gone on in this task; for crimson shall be everywhere anyone can see for perhaps lifetimes to come... until the time when this malady afflicts us no more and we can again be as one."


"Look to it, and remember me fondly as I was and not as the monster I have become. Remember my last service to all, and the last gift we shall all give when the last embrace of the mother welcomes us home. Until the day we are together again Sister... I will rest well knowing that you keep the watch. The man kneels and places the sword point to his stomach and slides the blade inward and pulls up and to the left quickly.


The image remains only a few moments, his red blood flowing smoothly out of him like a streaming crimson banner in the wind on a clear day, ironically, or perhaps by his last weave (though the Light alone knew how he managed such focus) the torrent pooled into a vague shape of the great seal, and there, after only a few more moments of a most holy silence, it was done.


Saidar released, Maegan allowed the Ter'Angreal grow silent.






Tu che di gel sei cinta

Da tanta fiamma vinta

L’amerai anche tu!

L’amerai anche tu!

Prima di quest’aurora

Io chiudo stanca gli occhi

Perché egli vinca ancora...

Egli vinca ancora

Per non

Per non vederlo piu!

Prima di quest’aurora

Di quest’aurora

Io chiudo stance gli occhi

Per non vederlo piu!

Tu che di gel sei cinta-Turandot (Puccini)


Brent did not move.  Not a muscle.  He hardly breathed.


He did not dare because moving could cause the dams built behind his eyes to break.  The M’Hael was an emotion man, given to fits of rage, bouts of joy, and, though it threatened his “masculinity” or “leadership ability”, crying—which he could not afford in front of Linten.


Light blind him, but the vision he had just seem tore at him.  It hit every bell in his body and they resonated within him, shaking the very building that tried to contain them, instead of letting their music be broadcast to the rest of the room.


Love us enough to steal it away...


As a man who could channel, one who knew both the sickening waves of nausea brought on by the Taint and the struggle to maintain control over saidin every moment, that addicting feeling of life as he triumphed over the figurative river of fire, had him quivering in dread at those words.  If not for the two men in the room, Brent would have given in to instinct and let himself seize the One Power just to remind the panicking voice in the back of his mind that she hadn’t actually taken it from him.


The same panicking voice wanted to yell and scream at the disappeared man, memory brought to life three thousand years later.  That man had been able to channel!  How could he ask her to take saidin from him?  Brent could manage a scrap of patience for those non-channellers who simply did not understand why men like him fought so hard to keep something that would eventually do worse than kill them; they never felt the rush of seizing saidin, of feeling invincible.  But this man knew!  He knew what it was like!  He knew what would happen to hundreds of generations of men like him after the Red Ajah stole their cursed blessing.


Yet even while Brent was working himself into a panic, a calmer section of him understood.  The nineteen year old watching his father’s ship revolve and disappear into the vortex of a massive maelstrom, understood.  The M’Hael who, every day, had to watch his brother’s behaviour and decide who lived to see another day and who would drink his evening glass of wine and never wake up, understood.  Those two understood their brother of long ago, they watched the male channeller in the prime of his strength and sanity, and they turned back to their brother and marvelled at his courage.


The Illianer took deep breaths, the only sound in the silent room.  Linten sneered and the other Asha’man was unreadable behind his massive beard.  Neither had the same empathy in their eyes as Brent, they wore only the feral expression of threatened animals.


“Was her translation correct?”  Brent didn’t need the the bearded Asha'man's nod of confirmation; he might not speak of word of the Old Tongue, but the expression on the memory’s face was enough to confirm Maegan’s translation.


Waiting in silence for the others’ expressions, he didn’t dare look at Maegan just yet.  They would have to talk about this later.  When they were alone.






Nodding quietly at the M`hael's question, Gunnar Khoeler was relatively quiet as he turned everything that had been said in his mind.  It was an interesting vision, something he was glad to observe because he would be able to record what had been revealed for posterity.  The secret justification of the Red Ajah for their hunt of male channelers and its unveiling to the M`hael of the Black Tower, Brent Enios, by Maegan Sedai of the Red with Asha`man Linten al'Dracain along with himself present.


Looking to the other three in the room, Gunnar was quick to note the moisture around the eyes of Maegan Sedai, there was even a hint of it about M`hael Enios.  Linten, on the otherhand, seemed to be struggling with it, his usual poise was not to be found.  There was a certain foreboding garnered from the look of his fellow Asha`man, and not something that would serve anyone to be left untended.  Certainly not the M`hael, which meant it would not serve the Tower, particularly not with Maegan Sedai present to witness any exchanges.


Turning specifically to M`hael Enios, Gunnar was formal as he said.  "M`hael Enios, if we ar-"


A cough splitting his words in twain, a second and a third had him holding a hand to his mouth.  Another set of coughs had him struggling as his face began to flush crimson, he barely heard the order from the M`hael for Linten to take him to the infirmary.  Leaning on the man's arm as it was offered, Gunnar allowed himself to be shown out the door, each cough causing his ribs to rattle together unpleasantly.  Whatever it was he was going to say, it would have to wait for another day.



Gunnar Khoeler







Brent was in the process of thinking up elaborate schemes to get Linten and the bearded Asha’man out of the room; occasionally said elaborate schemes were interspersed with far more simple schemes, in which he simply forced Linten out of the room with saidin or decapitated the man then and there.  The latter were of the more pleasant and less feasible variety.


All of a sudden his luck changed.


Although the hacking and barrage of spittle aimed in his direction made him back up in disgust, Brent thanked the Creator and the Asha’man’s old age.  In fact, he was so relieved it was a struggle to keep himself from smiling as he ordered Linten to accompany the man to the infirmary.


Once the door closed behind the two, the M’Hael waited a minute until they would be far enough away not to sense the ward against eavesdropping he wove around himself and Maegan.


“First off, what in the bloody Pit of Doom did you be thinking goading Linten?  You do be a bloody fool for an Aes Sedai.  If you do be going anywhere alone that bastard do be having you on your back and his hands ‘round your throat before you do be able to scream.”






Perhaps it was too much information at once, or the sheer fear of the other man, but before Maegan could get a word in edge-wise to direct some semblance of a normal conversation --Not that anything that had just occurred was normal, even by her standards-- the M'Hael jumped in the first thing that made sense to him. Linten.


Taking her time, Maegan worked her way around the room, allowing her skirts to tell her when the chair was close by. Five, six steps and she took a seat. Smoothing out her skirts, Maegan looked directly at the form of Brent Enos. Should the man have been older or in his position longer than the mere few days he did, perhaps he would understand that it was business first. Her life threatened by a mad man was of no concern of hers until she needed to leave the room and the M'Haels protection. Until then it will be pressed then.


The man was seething, angry, upset and of a ball of emotions. Even through the slim bond that she had forged with Dedicated Serge there was concern as to why Maegan, normally inhibited and lacking completely in emotions, was suddenly a flood-base of tears and love. Love, an emotion so lost and rare in the Black Tower encampments while at war. Emotions that were shown on the face of a man that she could have known in a past life and possibly have worked with.


It could have been her that had received the Ter'Angreal in that life time. One channeler returned to her from the past, what if it were another. If only she could figure out what this experiment was!


Maegan gazed carefully at the M'Hael through her blurry vision, ignoring the impending ache in her mind. The Threads of the Wheel were turning and paths were weaving intricately and coming together in a pattern that was becoming more and more obvious to her. Just one pattern, but there was a meaning for it. There had to be! Looking at him carefully, Maegan could not help but frown. All this staring down at him and the man decided to talk to her about Linten.


Light, he was too young.


Sighing heavily, she knew that Brent would require an explanation. They always did. Men were odd sometimes. "I have come across his kind before. It is hard to tell with the Taint effecting you, the voices, adn other ailements to those that channel Saidin. The man is clearly mad, but not in a way related to Saidin. You have known this for quite some time." Maegan's eyes darkened, remembering the past. "Nothing short of Death will save you or your men from the poison he spreads. Mark me, M'Hael. You gain nothing with his life." Shifting her weight, her neck started to hurt looking up at him.


"Take a seat, M'Hael. Unless it pleases you to think and walk all the same. Shall we put the matter of the Asha'man to later or would you like to continue telling me anything else about Linten that you do not believe I already know?"





A very big part of Brent wanted to slap her again.  Belittling his warnings!  He was trying to help her stay alive and out of a predator’s grasp; what does she do—“oh, I already know all about him.”  The hell she did!  She would not have been so stupid if she’d really known.  Stupid, stubborn, arrogant Aes Sedai!  Damn them, and they wondered why half the world hated them!


Brent did not sit though, he kept pacing the room, as if movement might somehow stimulate more cohesive and product brain function.  Unfortunately, the pacing was only helping make the Illianer more agitated.  “Fine, we do be leaving the subject of Linten alone.  But you do be ignoring that bastard at your own risk.”


Pace.  Mutter.  Pace.  Pace.  Mutter.


If she didn’t want to talk about Linten, why the hell was she still looking at him, as if expecting something?  She could leave, he certainly wasn’t preventing her from it...  The ter’angreal?  Light, that was a complicated issue—particularly coming from one of the Red Ajah.  Even before recent events, this three thousand year old message would have split the Black Tower down the centre, battle lines drawn.  As was, Brent would be lucky to have a tenth of the Asha’man’s support to face those who would prefer Linten’s poisoned doctrines.


“The ter’angreal, it do be an actual message from the Age of Legends?  No tricks?  No Aes Sedai manipulation?  How long do you be having this thing?  And do the whole White Tower be knowing about it?”






Fear, the man feared what Linten could do. She knew very well what he could do, and she would come back to him, all in due corse. Under the light, she was not going to ignore or forget him. It would be her death if she did.


"No tricks. The Ter'Angreal came to the Red Ajah in secret and its existence is unknown outside our ranks and to any that have not been in the Tower since it has been found." She had to make some allowances. Not all Red Sisters resided in the Tower and she was not about to sent out letters without knowing that they would arrive untampered. A thin veil, Maegan wanted each sister to be hit full force by this knowledge as it challenged the very purpose of the Red Ajah.


Light knows how it will change the face of the Red Ajah. But to lead it. . .


"The Ter'Angreal was found in 996, about 4 years ago, after the Dragon proclaimed himself. The Ter'Angreal was hidden away in the Tower Stacks behind a concealed panel. It is placed in the care of the Sitters of the Red Ajah over the past few years, in my hands mostly as I have a talent for Ter'Angreal." ::A slip much, Mae? Perhaps slip about Ajah Heads too, while you're at it.::


"We were once called Brothers and Sisters under the same flag. We worked together for the greater good as true Servants of the People. Because of . . . this, our entire purpose has been maligned into something so many can not recognize. I can not speak for every Red Sister personally, but I do represent our Ranks and I want to help heal this hatred for our Shawl color and your Dragon Pins. Allowing a man to Channel goes against hundreds of years of practice, but my soul be damned if I am allow myself to be caught by it. I have worked my entire life searching for a way to heal the Taint. Perhaps in another life I was close, I do not know. But what I do know that I can not do it alone. The Red Ajah can not do it alone. We need you and your men as much as you will need us."


How much help could they really be for these men? Healing hundreds of years of hatred will be no mean feat. It would be a miracle.





He didn’t have to believe her.  Honestly, the colour of his coat and the colour of her Shawl should have swayed his decision the other way.  Three thousand years men like him had been hunted by women like her, their birthrights were stolen and they were left to waste away; it was like amputating a wolf’s leg and then setting it back into the forest with its pack—all that was left for it was a slow, painful death.


But what choice had the Red Ajah had?  It was like the man from the ter’angreal had said: “Love us enough to steal it away...”  What had been done had been done for the good of all, letting men like him run loose would have resulted in another Breaking—what were the sacrifices of a few for the survival of the human... and Ogier races?  But why hadn’t an organisation like the Black Tower existed before?  The men took care of each other, looked out for each other, here at the Farm.  It wasn’t a utopia; after all, they were still doomed to go mad, every one of them.  But even watching over your shoulder and eyeing your brother was far better than the alternative: “Gentling”.  So why hadn’t an organisation existed for male channellers before; because the White Tower didn’t bother to think of any more humane alternatives for a three thousand year old problem; because it would mean the disbanding of the Red Ajah?  Why was the Red Ajah still in existence now since the Dragon’s amnesty forbid them from taking any more male channellers?  Brent looked at Maegan.


Hatred for her choice of Ajah, hatred for his black coat...  The parallel surprised him.  It probably shouldn’t have, but, of course, biases had blinded him from any empathy with his natural enemy.


Brent finally sat down.  “They do no be liking this.  Like you did say, you can no be speaking for every one of your Ajah Sisters and I do be guessing that you be having some Linten’s among your ranks same as I do be having them among mine.  This... misunderstanding” the M’Hael smirked; misunderstanding was such an understatement “do be making my brothers hate you more.  They do no be ready for this, they no be Linten, but their fear of your Ajah do be blinding them to any empathy for your cause.  They do no believe a word out of your mouth, Oaths or no.


“In this you do have my support.  But my Tower do no be ready yet.”





Maegan's eyes softened, rare and unique as sympathy of unsurpassed belief shone as a small smile warmed her lips. A weight lifted, he had to give the Black Tower credit. They had chosen well in their M'Hael and for that she felt a bit of gratitude, despite the slight irritations when the circumstance inspired it.


"Your support" a quirk to her smile as she allowed a rather human 'hm' escape her throat, positive and inhibited, "means the world to me, to which I thank you. You have but to name anything of me, and on my honor I will do as you say to the best of my ability." The implications of that should stomp out doubt as to her loyalties in the matter. Her Shawl was but half her life, but her life's work exist to see the Towers together. Her so-called loyalty were to those she believed in. The Academy, the Black Tower. They were but fragments of a great pattern that even the White Tower could not control. Maegan had lived enough lives to know and accept this.


"I will leave the Ter'Angreal in your care for a time. Perhaps pass it onto the the Dragon, but I do wish to have it back when you feel you have had sufficient time to study it. You and your own scholars. As for Linten," Her voice grew unusually sad. Maegan did not mean to feel sad. Perhaps it was because her body was growing weary from the days events, or the strain she has been placing on herself over the past week. It was fear, cold unadultered fear, that she felt for the man. She had her reasons, after all. "the initial reaction was poor at best, regretfully it changes nothing. He would have targeted me eventually, considering my Shawl. My bonded will not be able to save m from him, and you can not keep me here either. I will be in need of a way to protect myself from him. I will not ask for my blade, or my walking staff." The walking staff would be rather useful as she still occasionally tripped over things thanks to her lack of spectacles.


"I have two hair pins in your possession. They are Ter'Angreal and would be of the most use to me. Given the circumstances."





Brent smiled back.  If someone had told him a year ago that he’d be making deals with the Red Ajah, he would have hit them.  Actually, if someone mentioned it now he’d probably still hit them—if for different reasons.


He momentarily thought about asking her to kill Linten.  It would be so ridiculously convenient; pass it off as self-defence so he wouldn’t have to get his own hands dirty.  Besides, a number of those in the Black Tower might actually thank her for it, thus helping improve relations with the Red Ajah.  Hell, with Linten gone, he might even be able to show them the ter’angreal.


However, his conscience screamed against it.  He’d told Linten no when the man had wanted to assassinate Dalinar, Brent would be a hypocrite to do as Linten had.  No, he’d find a different way to deal with him.  Eventually Linten would slip up and everyone would see the man’s black soul.  His blood would be on the Tower, not Brent’s hands—figurative or literal.


Ter’angreal?  Meagan was asking for her other ter’angreal?  Damn, how many had the woman brought with her?  And why?  “What do these “hair pins” be doing?  And just how many ter’angreal did you be bringing to the Farm?  And if you have so many with you, should I be checking the rest of the Sisters as well?"





Maegan could not help but chuckle this time over. "There is no need, M'Hael. Your men did a very good job at stripping us.. bare of all possible items. A rather suspicious lot you have, although fully merited." She paused a little and tapped her lower lip thoughtfully as she regarded him.


"I," How could she put this without revealing too much, "My position as Sitter allows me access to more than a normal Aes Sedai is allowed without restricted access. I have a certain talent for Ter'Angreal and am continuously studying them. For a long time I have been working to find a way to cleanse Saidin, however have always come upon failure. Either it can not be done by Ter'Angreal, or needs the assistance of a male channeler."


"I do seem to be rambling now, but no. I doubt any sister have such items on them. I brought 4 with me. The one on your desk, two hair pins that are wells of Saidar, and a Journal. It would be very wise of you not to try and study the Journal as it will cause you great problems to your health and home." The very serious nature of that particular ter'angreal made Maegan's voice grow old. "Short of force will bring me to tell you. You need only know that it is of no use to you nor any else save myself.


"The wells are what I require. I said before that I have dealt with Linten's kind before. Should I be cornered and shielded by one that does not hold my bond it will gain me a very small access to a limited amount of Saidar. Possibly enough to cause a distraction, call for help. Both will allow me to sever the shield, but no more."





While Brent wondered what she meant by having dealt with Linten’s “kind” before, he felt it prudent not to ask.  Not only was she Aes Sedai, but if his guess came close to the mark, he doubted she wanted to talk about it—particularly not with a man she barely knew.  This was supposed to be about business.


On the other hand, she was giving him an awful lot of information about herself.  And again, being Aes Sedai, he doubted any of the information was let slip accidentally.  The purpose for the information was still unclear; was she trying to put him at ease?  In any case, what he had gathered was that she seemed to have some level of authority, a fact that didn’t surprise Brent oblivious though he was to the subtle nuances of human nature that a master of politics would pick up on.  Hell, he didn’t even know what a “Sitter” was.  It was at times like this that Brent wished for some other upbringing; the sons of poor merchants simply weren’t cut out for leading armies of madmen.


Besides the fact that she held some sort of authority over the rest of the Aes Sedai the Black Tower held captive, she mentioned a talent for ter’angreal.  This would have automatically piqued the interest of any competent channeller and particularly the leader of an army looking to lead his men in battle before the army, and himself, went irrevocably insane.  It didn’t even matter that she’d already tried to find some means of cleansing saidin; ter’angreal’s as weapons...


“If you think I be just going to hand over a possible weapon or escape route to a prisoner you be dead wrong.  While I do be worrying that Linten may be having designs for you, now that you did be so cleverly drawing his attention to yourself, as the M’Hael, I can no be possibly sanctioning giving you the means to be harming, possibly killing, an Asha’man—bastard though he be.


“However, I do be interested in this... talent of yours for ter’angreal.  I do be hearing of such things before and be wanting to know whether this be simply a turn of speech or if you do be actually be knowing or able to do something that the normal channeller do no be able to.”





Drained, Maegan's patience waned as the day grew on. The conversation failed to yeild any formal results that could apease her. The moment she walked out of the M'Haels tents Maegan knew that she would become the next victim of Lintens respulsive habits. It took effort not to shiver at the thoughts.


"I am an Aes Sedai, M'Hael. My Oaths forbid me to make a weapon made of Saidar, and I can not escape so long as I'm compelled here to stay by way of the bond forcibly placed on my person. I will not argue over the how or why but be that as it may, I can not escape. Should I be cornered, I will be at the man's mercy. Whatever you and your men's ideas of treatment of prisoners, is not the rape of our minds enough that you could not at least prevent any more further violation of defenseless women placed in your care? Bastard or not, I will not kill him unless my very life is in danger."


Maegan's eyes narrowed. "You may force all that you want, M'Hael, but I have come to you willingly. My work with Ter'Angreals and what I know will be given freely. All I ask is for a little protection among your men. My shawl is hated, but I am just a woman and should I be commanded to sit by ways of the bond, I have no choice but to sit."


"Would you leave me to that... knowing I will do all in my power to help you?"





Brent sighed, scrubbing his hands through his hair.  It just wasn’t as easy as she was making it out to be.  He knew very well what Linten would do she he ever find Maegan alone, hell, the bastard could very well lure her away from everyone else.  Blood and ashes, he felt guilty enough having to let the man have his way with that other Red Aes Sedai—he was the M’Hael, damnit, he should be able to do something!


“I do be knowing that, but...” Brent sighed, looking for a way to explain.  “If I be granting you the ter’angreal, what do be next?  And what if anyone else do be finding out?  How long can you be keeping it from your Bondholder?  As soon as he do be finding out I be granting requests to Aes Sedai, and Red Sisters, no less, I do be seen as weak—as much of a pushover as Dalinar.  If that do happen, there do likely be another coup, or worse, the schism between the do be turning violent.


“If I be granting you this request, how can I be saying no should one of your Sisters be finding out and bring you as blackmail to get her way?  You do still be prisoners, I can no be simply granting your requests left and right.  Nonetheless, as you do be in my care, I be supposed to protect you.


“Do you be swearing on the Three Oaths that you do no be telling anyone else about this?  And do you be swearing to no use the ter’angreal except in the last defence of your life?”





"Omissions are not lies, M'Hael. You have my word, by the hope of rebirth and my salvation, I will not use what you have allowed my to have unless in the extremity of my life and only in defense."


The strain of before washed away as relief filled her eyes. Rubbing them slowly with a hand to hide the lowing defense Maegan stood from her chair in the M'Haels office with a small bow of her head. "I will leave the Ter'Angreal in your possession for the time being. Not all my sisters know of it's existence and I may require it back. Perhaps future meets on more neutral ground will see better negotiating terms pertaining to it." The unspoken of her Ajah and his Tower left much room for assumption but little for doubt. But there was one last thing she needed to say, if only on good faith.


"Is there anything else you need of me, M'Hael?"






“You no call omissions lies when their purpose do be to deceive?  What be truth then, if it no be the opposite of deception?”  Brent shrugged, worn out.  He was no philosopher and certainly didn’t want to debate the nature of truth with an Aes Sedai whose Oaths, by nature, skewed the meaning of truth.  In any case, it had been a long day and he wanted nothing more than a nice glass of brandy and a full night’s sleep—even sleep full of nightmares and worries was better than the exhaustion he felt now.


“One day I hope to be sharing the ter’angreal with the rest of the Black Tower, but that day do no be in the near future.  But I be hoping a lot of things, Aes Sedai, and they do no look like they be coming true any time soon so unless you have a cure for the Taint and a sure-fire way to be defeating the Dark One, I do no be needing anything else for now.”  He smiled weakly at the bitter humour and watched as she left the room.


Upon the closing of the door, he reached down into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out his decanter of brandy.  “It do just be me and you, old friend.” Then sleep... a long sleep...











COMPLETING THIS THREAD - This is now a closed RP.

Note: This has nothing to do with what is happening now. Knowledge contained here was never revealed.


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