<OOC: This is a closed thread.>

”You’ll have to do better than that!” Bernyam said, laughing, as Doran nursed his sword arm, numb from the blow by the larger man. He could almost feel the bruise forming. Gritting his teeth, Doran rolled his shoulders and moved once again in to starting position, ignoring the pains the motion caused.

“I intend to,” he said through clenched teeth, shifted his grip on his cut and thrust and once again attacked the Manshima. The sound of their mock swords meeting filled Doran’s ears as he attacked, moving smoothly through the forms Bernyam had taught him. His left hand held a buckler today and he used it even more than he used his short sword, fighting to keep Bernyam’s blows from reaching him again. The Manshima made him switch between using a buckler and a dagger to supplement his sword and Doran was glad it was the buckler today. They’d been fighting for a while now and without the shield Doran knew he’d been lying in the dust a long time ago.

“Move!” Bernyam shouted, launching a low attack that forced Doran to jump backwards. As he landed he lost his balance and countered that by launching himself into a roll, coming to his feet on the Manshima’s left side. He grunted as his weight strained his bruised shoulder.

“You’re the worst fighter I’ve seen in this yard Siswai,” Bernyam said, approaching slowly. “Why do you stay? Have we not beaten you enough?”

“Not by far Bernyam,” Doran said with a sneer, knowing full well the Shienaran only tried to break his concentration. He attacked, going for Bernyam’s left knee. The man deflected him easily and pushed at Doran, sending him stumbling. “Why do you fight?” He attacked and Doran parried. They moved through the yard, the pace much higher than Doran would have managed only a couple of months ago. Despite what it looked like the Siswai had evolved tremendously, developed a fighting skill that at least let him hold his own. For a while.

“Why do you fight?” Bernyam suddenly yelled at him.

“To beat you!” Doran yelled back, aiming a blow on the man’s shoulder.

“That’s not good enough reason!” Bernyam replied coolly, blocking the blow and locking Doran’s sword between his own sword and dagger. Doran aimed a blow for the man’s head with his buckler and Bernyam backed away, letting go of the cut and thrust.

“Why do you fight? Do you think because no one else wants you we’ll keep you?” Bernyam attacked again but for once he’d managed to break Doran’s concentration. The Ghealdan Siswai stopped dead, his face growing pale. Not until the older man’s attack was nearly upon him did he remember to move, but his reaction was too slow and Bernyam sent him to the ground with a series of blows on his bruised shoulder, ribs and knee, his buckler useless and eventually dropped. Doran grunted as he landed. Bernyam leaned over him.

“Find your motivation Doran,” Bernyam said, offering the Siswai his hand. “Find it or you won’t last to make a Warder. Training session is over.”

Doran groaned through clenched teeth as he rose to his feet with the aid of the borderlander. He massaged his ribs for a while and then stubbornly moved in to starting position. “Again Bernyam!”

“No Doran, you’re dismissed. Think of what I’ve said. Now move out.” Bernyam left him behind to join the Gaidin in charge of today’s training. Doran cursed under his breath, he hated losing simply because the other man had manages to get under his skin.

As he was left alone the noise of the training yards came crashing in; yells and blows and the occasional hoot from the onlookers. He glanced around. Each day it surprised him that he would forget his surroundings completely when he fought, not minding who watched him or why. Bernyam said that could either save him or see him dead, depending on who was doing the watching. Doran gathered his buckler and went to return his practice weapons. The leather-bound weapons with their perfect weight felt right in his hands. He’d grown to believe they fit him, and not only because they matched his body frame well – no, he thought they fit him. But then again, he still hadn’t practiced with sharp weapons. Maybe if he could find the answer to Bernyam’s question they’d let him do it soon. Find your motivation Bernyam had said. Doran pushed the thought out of his head; he’d think about it in his own time, later.

As he excited the yards he noticed an Aes Sedai among the spectators. That in itself was not unusual, what caught Doran’s eye were her bright white hair, the belly that showed she was with child and the fact that she seemed to be looking right at him. He inclined his head hesitatingly and to his surprise she answered by beckoning for him to come.

“Aes Sedai,” he said respectfully as he reached her, accompanying the word with a bow that set his bruised ribs burning with pain again. The Sister was of small statue and as far as Doran could see she had no Warder with her. Maybe her Warder was training in the yard and that’s why she was there to watch, though that still didn’t explain why she’d want to see Doran. Or maybe she didn’t have a Warder and was in the market for one, so to speak. Doran grinned, the way his fight had been going that hardly explained why she’d waved him over either.

“You look like you need to clean yourself up a bit,” the Aes Sedai said, offering Doran a small and plain handkerchief.

For a split second Doran contemplated whether the Tower initiates had ganged up to play some bizarre joke on his behalf the way they kept offering him handkerchiefs. The old Yellow Sister Mesis had even gone so far as to make sure a serving woman left him clean and ironed ones once a week. Who would ever learn to understand women?

“I - …thank you Sister,” Doran said, not knowing what else to say. The woman seemed to expect more of him though so he wiped his forehead, thinking it a waste of a perfectly good handkerchief. To his surprise it came away bloodied; he’d been too wrapped up in the fight to even notice the small wound on his left cheek. He pressed the handkerchief to it.

“What’s your name Siswai?” the Aes Sedai asked.

“Doran, ma’am. Doran Narvalo.”

“How long have you been in the Tower Doran?”

“It must be about ten months now Aes Sedai,” Doran replied after a brief pause. He’d lost track of the days on the training yards, days that had become weeks and months.

“And do you like it here?” There seemed to be something about this woman that made Doran want to answer her questions. Doran could not put a finger to what it was exactly but she had a... presence, for lack of a better description.

“Well… yes ma’am, the Tower is grand, more than grand compared with the places I’ve lived.” Doran replied, silently wondering where all these questions were leading.

“What about your teacher’s question then Doran, is the grandness of the Tower not enough for you to fight for?” So she’d heard that.

“It should be,” Doran answered hesitatingly in a stroke of sincerity, “but it’s not, not for me.” It was certainly the oddest conversation he’d had in a long time. The Aes Sedai must have realized the same because something changed in her bearing and she was all Aes Sedai-serenity again. The change was so small few would have noticed it but Doran had honed his skill for years, depending on watching other people for his survival.

“You may keep the handkerchief Doran. I hope you find the answer to your question.”

“Thank you Aes Sedai,” Doran said with a bow, recognizing the dismissal. As he moved away he could feel the gaze of the small woman following him and he had to force himself to walk out of the yards in a steady pace.

It irked him that both Bernyam and the unknown Aes Sedai had seen through him that well. Ten months spent in the Tower, working his fighting skills in the yard each days, running errands and attending lessons. Ten months since he’s quit his vagabond life and he still had the urge to move on in him, growing stronger each day despite the fact that life in the Tower was better than his old life on every point of comparison.

What was he fighting for?

-Doran Narvolo, Siswai from Ghealdan

Mir’iam a’Del Nor mopped her brow with her white handkerchief. Light but how the halls of the White Tower stretched when you were carrying for two! She gave the bump in her dress a loving pat and continued to waddle down the halls. Only five months and the babe was already making itself trouble. “I do not remember your brother giving me this much grief when he was your age. You are going to be a big baby. A big baby boy Arrowen for to lord over.”

She sighed and wished she had stayed with two-year-old Arrowen instead of going in search of Justen Trizidad. The Aes Sedai could have easily sent her gaidar, Verervathinen, in search for Mir’iam’s husband, but she was still getting used to having the gaidar around to issue such menial tasks to. “Menial for someone not bursting at the seams,” she amended to herself.

Her destination was the practice yards by simple logic. Her darling husband had the annoying ability to block the bond between them, as he was doing now. While at the Tower, one of the few times he blocked her was when she was in the Library reading, which she had been, and when he wanted to toss the Siswai about. He knew she would stop what she was doing and make the trip down to the yard to watch. Mir’iam loved watching her husband pit himself against others in the mock battles. His mentors had trained him well.

Plus, she wanted to be there to be the first to give him an earful, should he land unceremoniously upon his rear end.

She supposed she could have remained cloistered away in the Library reading and cataloging the various books and scrolls that the Tower had acquired through various means. Some of the books had been donated by families across the continent who had the items passed down through generations and had seen the potential use (and profit) for the Aes Sedai. And yet others had been acquired on raids of suspected Darkfriends, their homes and possessions made forfeit by their allegiance.

It was a task that was never ending, and the Brown enjoyed the books best when they hinted, blatantly or in the seductive quiet illumination of its text sent her in pursuit of artifacts that had been lost to their time and she left the Tower in search of some item that might help in the battle against the Dark One. Of course, she had to tell the head of the Brown Ajah she was going, what she was hoping to collect and its worth, but if she read the text, she had the option of going after the piece and investigating it further herself, or passing it off to another Aes Sedai.

While she was far too along to go frolicking across the continent in search of something that might not even exist, going just such a quest might be just what her dear husband needed. She shielded her eyes as she exited the building, the contrasting brightness catching her by surprise. Although Justen sought to hide it from his wife, she had sensed uneasiness about him these last few weeks. To rest his mind, she had promised to stay at the Tower until their second child was born and thus far she had kept to that promise. But that did not mean that he needed to stay. She had Verervathinen to watch over her, Arrowen to keep her preoccupied, as well as her pregnancy, and an army of Accepted she could boss around at will.

While she still enjoyed her husband and his company immensely, she felt an even greater warmth at being able to give him this gift, to free him from the Tower, if only briefly.

Disappointment welled in her as she thoroughly scanned the ranks gathered around the sparring yard. Justen’s blond hair always stuck out to her like a lovely thumb. There were a few blond haired men on the field today, but none of them were hers. She sighed and glanced behind her to the Tower. Since she was here already, she might as well watch some of the sport.

Mir’iam spotted some of the perspiration from her walk from her brow and turned her attention to the nearest match. A short and slender young man was having his senses beat out of him, or a lesson beat into him. Sometimes it was difficult to tell which was which. The Brown cocked her head at a particularly brutal strike by his opponent. The taunts they threw at each other to throw the other off his guard amused her. The young man was really being toss around and taking a beating.

Finally a question was proposed that caused her to straighten a bit. His better-skilled opponent queried, “Why do you fight? Do you think because no one else wants you we’ll keep you?” It was an interesting question to the Aes Sedai, and it was asked and answered more than once, but on this reincarnation the messy haired young man’s face went red. Even so, his anger was not enough to engage him in the series of blows that largely landed unchecked upon his body.

Mir’iam fanned herself with her handkerchief and forced herself to remain calm and not interfere. That would be the worse thing she could do, she had learned over the years. So she simply said a silent prayer that the boy go down quickly. She winced when he finally did, she could feel the landing in her bones. She schooled her expression calm, it would not do to have others see her interest in the boy’s welfare.

His opponent lifted him to his feet and the lad showed an inclination to keep fighting. Dirt and blood clung to him in equal amounts. He looked through. The Aes Sedai raised a brow. Light he was resilient. And hardheaded. She knew of another hardheaded fool, more in his past than in his current state. Justen Trizidad had been a brash youth of twenty when they had first met. Though not nearly as explosively rash as his brother, Jeroff, there were times in their past where she had wanted to hit him with something solid.

Justen had mellowed a bit in recent years, but the lad’s dogged determination reminded her of an earlier time in her relationship with the blond haired Trizidad. She wholly doubted that the young man would find the answer to the other’s question here, while getting his senses rattled around in his head. Maybe, just maybe, it would do both Justen and the lad to venture out of Tar Valon.

The lad’s insistence that he was not done fighting fell on deaf ears and his opponent wandered away. He loitered in the ring for a few more seconds, as if once again noticing his surroundings. He noticed her watching, and when he bowed his head in respect, she signaled him over.

“Aes Sedai,” he bowed somewhat painfully.

She made small talk, learning his name and getting a sense from him. Up close, she could now see the sprinkling of freckles that danced across the bridge of his nose. Up close, there was a doubt she could see lingering in his soft brown eyes. What was he doubting? She wondered. “What about your teacher’s question then Doran? Is the grandness of the Tower not enough for you to fight for?”

She hoped that her own bitterness did not sound evident in her voice. Through the years the Tower had been both a help and a hindrance to her to a point where she was not as enamored with their goal as she had in her youth. How could one remain wholeheartedly loyal when its head had specifically had her kidnapped. Her memory of that time almost caused her to miss his reply and she straightened, putting the past behind her once again. “You may keep the handkerchief Doran,” she smiled warmly at him, “I hope you find the answer to your question.”

He thanked her and headed out of the practice yard at a steady pace. She watched him leave. It would indeed do the lad good to accompany her husband on this quest. It would occupy Justen and ensure that he had someone guarding his back. He insisted she had a gaidar to protect her, but he was too bull-headed to find one for himself. Perhaps this Doran was the clever solution.

Thirty-seven years filled more with laughter than with sorrow had left laugh lines at the corners of Justen Trizidad’s eyes and mouth. There was no smile on his lips now, however. His emerald eyes were partly hooded and darkened with anger. His fists pressed down on the map-covered table in front of him, the crumpled remains of a letter peered out from one. The well-toned muscles in his forearm twitched periodically, as did the muscles in his jaw.

He had not expected to hear back from the runners, spies he had contracted after the events in Do’Saidae concerning the Children of the Light, so quickly. Yu Watase was a slippery serpent and his forces had been obliterated at the end of the siege of Do’Saidae in Saldaea. The large army of Trollocs had been the downfall of Watase’s army, the Do’Saidaean army had been a limping animal by the time Watase’s men had driven them back to the Heart. If the foul creatures had not arrived, every man, woman and child within the walls would have met their end.

Certainly if those within the walls had turned the Asha’man and Aes Sedai over to the Whitecloaks they might have spared their lives, but Justen doubted it. The few individuals the Whitecloaks turned had, in the end, turned up dead. And not by the hands of the Trollocs.

Justen’s finger rested on the map where the letter informed him Watase had taken a city. Or at least occupied it. The runner reported no activity of hostility, so perhaps the city had nothing to hide, like an Aes Sedai and had simply rolled over in surrender and the man had simply waltzed in and taken up residence. The spy had estimated the Children in the city to number somewhere around three hundred. That was half of the forces Watase had used to attack Do’Saidae.

He checked his anger, reining it back into a black simmering storm cloud. He could block his wife almost at will, but when emotions ran high, something always seemed to seep through and this was not an instance that he wanted her to find him glowering about. Justen had thought it prudent not to tell his wife and bondee about his infatuation with the death of Yu Watase, and thus far he had been successful. He disliked keeping monumental decisions like this from his lover, but he could not see her simply bowing out and letting him go on this mission. She might actually have him locked up for making the attempt or, worse, she would demand that she come with.

He shuddered at the thought of his wife, all of five months pregnant, falling into Yu Watase’s grasp. He would do worse to her than he had Justine Asher. His mouth went dry at the beaten and broken body his nephew, Trazier, had brought off the field. The poor woman still walked with a limp and she refused to leave the Tower for any reason. You could not find Justine Asher if there was even the rumor that one of the Children had wandered into Tar Valon.

No, his wife could not hear of his plans. Hopefully he could keep her blind and deaf on the subject until the deed was done. In truth, he did not want to leave Mir’iam. The last time he had left when he had traveled home to Ebou Dar, leaving her with a gaidar to protect her and keep her from doing anything stupid, his little wife had traveled to Water Bay Manor to visit her sister-in-law. She had been even more pregnant then than she was now, but he still loathed the idea of her traveling in her condition.

He wished he could wait until the child was born, but that would open a whole new bucket of worms. She would try to follow him in earnest then. Besides, there was no telling how long Watase would stay at Roelford. If Justen missed him, there was no telling when his spies would find him next. Now was the time. He only needed a false bottom destination to set off to. Telling her that he was returning to the Black Tower for some random reason was an excuse that he was not sure he could pull off in such a way that she would believe him.

He felt a tug at the bottom of his pant leg and looked down. The last traces of anger washed away as a smile formed on his face. The adventurous two year old had escaped once again from his playpen while Justen’s thoughts had held him rapt. Arrowen was now attempting to scale his father’s pant leg and had already pulled himself to standing.

“What are you up to, little man?” Justen asked. Arrowen responded with some childish gurgling and waving of his little fists. No longer having his hands to hold onto Justen’s pants, Arrowen would have fallen on his padded butt but Justen scooped the child up. His boy chortled in delight as Justen bared his stomach and blew a raspberry.

Arrowen Trizidad was the spitting image of his father with blond hair and green eyes. He supposed the boy had inherited his adventurous spirit from both of his parents. Already the boy was constantly disappearing and escaping the various child-cages and harnesses that were intended to make child rearing an easier task. It caused Verve, his wife’s gaidar and Arrowen’s sometimes babysitter, no end of grief. It was not the gaidar’s favorite task, watching over the lad, but she understood that if anything happened to the child, it would be as much of a body hard to his mother and if Verve let that happen, it would mean she had failed in her job to protect the Aes Sedai.

Justen tossed his son into the air, almost to the ceiling several times, sending fresh laughter bubbling from the boy. He had offered to watch the child earlier this day, freeing Verve from watching Arrowen while Mir’iam cataloged some of the books in the Library, and Verve tossed some Siswai around the practice yard.

He caught his son when he heard the door open and turned when Mir’iam entered the room. Justen tried to hide his surprise as he tucked the squirt under one arm, ineffectively hiding the still laughing boy from his wife’s scrutiny. She disliked it when he tossed the boy around like a sack of grain, no matter how much it pleased Arrowen. His wife did not like the idea of their son getting hurt. As if Justen would drop him on purpose!

“Wot’s art, lady Love?” he asked in typical Trizidad greeting. He was surprised that she had freed herself from the Library so early. Once she got to reading she could spend days in there, if he did not disturb her and bring her to bed for some much needed exercise. He bent forward to plant a kiss on her lips when she approached, maneuvering Arrowen behind his back and back around his other side until the child was between him. When Mir’iam broke the kiss the child was clinging to the front of her shirt. Arrowen started a conversation of gibberish, no doubt confessing how high he had just flown, his little fists pumping the decent sized globes on her chest. Justen envied the little man and pondered an early afternoon dalliance, but he could see the gears moving in his wife’s pretty head and he doubted she would appreciate having her thoughts interrupted.

He leaned back against the table and carefully hid the note in his pocket while she entertained their son with attention. Justen rescued her from their little delightful terror when Arrowen grabbed a large handful of his wife’s white tresses and pulled at them like the ringing of a bell. He returned Arrowen to his pen and kept half an eye on the boys next escape attempt while his wife broached the subject that had taken her away from the Library. He had missed seeing the book she had tucked beneath her arm. Even the brief play with the child had not knocked it from her possession.

She set it upon the map, obscuring Roelford and distracting him from his intensions with the discovery of a once- lost artifact. His brow furrowed thoughtfully as she told him about it, even as he read the words on the page. He could tell by the shining light in her blue eyes that she intended that they go after it. Justen was not sure it was the best idea for them to go larking about on such a quest. Usually pieces were guarded, sometimes they were already in the grasp of an agent of the Dark One. That always made retrieving it difficult, though it felt good to knock down the Dark Ones number, if only by a few. Aside from those who clearly held their allegiance opposing the Light, the world was littered with normal low life as well who would foolishly try to cause harm to the travelers.

He told her as much, "The item can wait several months, then we can go. Chances are it will not go anywhere, if it has remained there this long."

She laughed. "I do not mean that we should go, but that you should go."

Justen Trizidad blinked. "I should go?" What she suggested felt to him like a trap. His mind raced as he tried to spy the jaws of the trap before it closed around him. It was too easy of a solution to his current problem.

He straightened, looking his wife up and down. Had he said something recently? An unintentional dig at her condition, perhaps. Should he compliment her? Was this a new dress she was wearing today? He had the feeling he had seen it before, but he could not be sure. Had she cut her hair? Did she have a new bow in it? His mind whirled. He worked his jaw, lest it lock up, as he fished from from aspect of his wife to another. Each small piece added up to the whole that he loved so dearly.

She shook her head and laughed at the look on his face. "I will sit this one out, I promise. I simply sensed that you have been restless as of late. This would give you a reason to get out of the White Tower and to travel."

"I see."

She ran her hands down from his shoulders to his hands. "What do you think?"

"It is....Your thoughtfulness at sensing my inquietude is much appreciated. I was not expecting such a gift from you at this time. Do you not need me here?"

Her brow raised on her forehead. " What use do I have of you when I am surrounded by helpful Accepted, and V is always nearby, when she is not skylarking about. Where is she, anyway?"

"There are always my conjugal uses, I suppose, unless you have found another to fulfill that need as well... And Verve is in the training yard, last I heard."

"There is no other, silly. You wear me out plenty enough, as does our son," she rubbed her belly.

He leaned forward and ran his hands over hers. "You are so sure it is a boy?"

"He carries like one, a brute of one at that."

"Then I will tell him to stop that," he fell to his knees before her and had a brief but very stern conversation with his unborn child. By the end his wife was laughing. "Stop! Justen stop! You are tickling me!" He rose, taking her hands in his. He pressed a kiss to her lips. "If you want me to go, Love, then I will go," he murmured, "but I will leave tomorrow. Until then, why don't we see if Justine Asher might watch Arrowen and we will wile away the afternoon in our quarters."

She smiled and purred. "That would be marvelous," she took a step back, "except I do not intend for you to go alone. And thus I must set my plan into action, now that you have agreed upon it."

Justen frowned. He had not foreseen that clause in agreeing to her suggestion. "By the clever way you have backed me into this, I take it you have someone in mind to accompany me already? Is it V? I know she would love the reprieve from baby duty."

She patted his chest. "I must go. You will see anon." The door closed solidly behind her.

Justen worked his jaw. Usually his wife was straightforward with him. He sometimes forgot that she was still an Aes Sedai and she used that tendency to keep him in suspense. He rubbed his chin and wondered at his luck; a reason to get out of the Tower. And how yet she had robbed him of a true victory by having him anchored down by another traveler.

He moved to the playpen and lifted his son in his arms. "How am I going to get out of this one, I wonder?"

“I am running around far too much,” Mir’iam huffed, coming once again out of the training yard. She had spoken to the Master of Arms. Things were now set and they would meet with young Doran anon. “I should learn to utilize the Accepted more.”

The Master of Arms had seemed both surprised and relieved at her request. He seemed more than happy to get Doran out of his sight for some time. She almost felt sorry for the boy that he could be so easily traded like a commodity. And without his superiors even asking where Doran would be heading, or in other words; how he would be used. Mir’iam fanned herself with her handkerchief. She had no worries on how her husband would treat the young man. Doran might return with a few more bumps and bruises than he currently had, but he would not be worse for it.

She had some time before the lad would make it their sitting room, located off of the apartment she shared with her husband, where Doran was instructed to meet them. She wondered what her husband would think of the Siswai. It was not an altogether regular request, to stop a young man’s training and send him out of Tar Valon on a quest. Perhaps Doran was simply that bad of a fighter. From her experience, a person was not simply a bad fighter because they were lazy, not when they showed up in Tar Valon looking to become a gaidin. Belief in ones self and ones abilities went further than some could imagine. Yes, being around her cocksure husband would do the boy a world of good.

An Accepted, her arms heavy with weighty books, was exiting the library as Mir’iam approached. Even with her heavy load, the girl managed a bow and held the door open for the Brown. She breezed past, being careful not to upset the balance of the girl’s books as she passed.

Once inside she sought the areas where her friend was most likely to be found. She wandered through the maze of shelves stacked high with books and scrolls. It was so easy to lose oneself amid the wonderful shelves. She had done so many times, losing whole days in study. She forced herself to remain focus; though she paused several times when one of the titles on the leather bound spines caught her attention. She made a mental note to return to them later.

She smiled when she found the younger woman diligently sorting and cataloging some of the newer material. Most of Justine Asher’s strawberry blond hair was concealed beneath a soft peach bandana but several rebellious strands had escaped the confines and floated around her oval face. The girls pink lips were pursed in concentration.

Thason Ghayln, the girl’s Warder, lounged nearby, looking not wholly comfortable with the quiet atmosphere around him, nodded in quiet greeting as he absently studied his dagger. He looked more suited to be down in the training yard, tossing opponents around, but Mir’iam knew that his ward felt safer with his close presence.

Mir’iam stopped short of interrupting the woman’s space. She felt pity well in her for Justine Asher. She had never been the strongest of people. Mir’iam had thought the outing to Do’Saidae would have toughen the woman some, but instead it had traumatized her when Yu Watase, the Lord Captain Commander of the army of the Children of the Light had kidnapped her and tortured her. Mir’iam knew if it had been her instead, she would have been severely scarred as well.

She said the Brown’s name softly, hoping not to startle her, but Justine Asher jumped anyway and dropped the book she was holding. The sound of the book in the almost silent library made a boom that made Mir’iam jump. “Mir’iam! By the book, I was not expecting you to...” whatever else she said wandered off into the air around the small blond as her trembling hands smoothed some of the loose tendrils back before she bent down and picked up the book from the floor.

Mir’iam could see the results of the girl shivering by the waves that rippled through her soft cream dress, though it was perfectly warm. Justine Asher stroked the leather cover of the book as if asking the book for forgiveness for her clumsy actions. Though it was likely cooler in the room than Mir’iam felt- she was still warm from her hike around the grounds. “I have set up a meeting with a Siswai who may accompany my husband on a wanderlust and artifact collecting expedition and I wanted to see how you faired,” she placed a tender hand on the younger woman’s shoulder. “How are you?”

“I am fine. I am fine. I am fine. I am fine.”

Mir’iam smiled sadly. The woman’s determined tone told her that everything was not fine, but there was little any of them could do but befriend her and cuddle her in friendship until enough time passed that she did not think on the subject quite so much. “That is good to hear. Perhaps we can take tea in my quarters tomorrow, around the noon time, after my husband has departed.”

Justine Asher’s lips drew back in a thin line but she nodded. As long as Mir’iam did not suggest they ventured out beyond the gates that enclosed the White Tower, the traumatized Brown would likely agree.

Mir’iam smiled, “Good! I look forward to it immensely.”

There was a soft frown on Thason’s brow. “Siswai? Why on earth would you send one of those with your husband?”

Her slender shoulder rose in a shrug. “I do not foresee the item in question being too difficult to obtain. And from what I saw the young Narvolo could use some one on one lessons from someone like my husband as much as my Justen needs some time free from Tar Valon. You disapprove?”

The Warder made a face. “I have very little faith in the fighting ability of any Siswai, they are too green and trip over their own too feet far too often. But Doran Narvolo…is worse than most. I have seen him fight and beat him into a bloody pulp on the ground without even trying,” Thason exasperated at the look on Mir’iam’s face, “The lad has two left feet, I swear it!” he placed his hand on his heart.

“Tut,” the Aes Sedai dismissed what the Warder said with a wave of her hand, “I doubt things are as bad as that. I am going to leave you now, my tea is likely nicely steeped. I will see you tomorrow,” she gave Justine Asher another loving pat before retreating. Certainly things could not be as bad as the Warder made it sound.

~Mir'iam a'Del Nor of the Brown Ajah, married and bonded to Justen Trizidad

Doran was not a vain person, quite the contrary, but at the moment he would have given his left arm for a mirror. A silver plate would probably have done the trick as well, but those were even rarer in the barracks than mirrors. He could have asked one of the female Siswais, probably, - but then that would have brought a whole new set of troubles with questions asked and teasing done. Instead he used the backside of a spoon, twisting and turning it to get a proper look at his face as he cleaned it with a wet handkerchief. The reflection was poor and the only result he got from the scrutinizing was a good laugh at how ridiculously large his nose could look if he brought the spoon up close.

“This will simply have to do,” Doran said to himself, putting the spoon back in the small box under his bed where he kept his personal affects. “It’s not like I’m off to meet the bloody Amyrlin.”

No, just Mir’iam a’Del Nor, some Brown Sister he’d never heard of. It was his flaming destiny to keep attracting the attention of Aes Sedai. The Light knew he did nothing to seek them out, only a fool would do that while still a freshman to the Tower and Doran was no fool. He suspected it had something to do with his looks; for some reason he’d always evoked maternal feelings in women. Older women at least, he did try to kindle quite different ones in women his age, with various results.

Maternal feelings or no maternal feelings, this Mir’iam Sedai would have to be satisfied with how he looked. He had made an effort, cleaning up after practice and changing into his least tarnished Tower uniform but there was little he could do about the cut and bruise on his cheek or the way his slightly curly hair seemed to stand on an end no matter what he did to flatten it. Still, he’d made an effort. You always had to make an effort when meeting a woman otherwise they would get a disapproving air about them and maybe even purse their lips and sigh. Mesis Sedai did that frequently when they met and Doran did not care for it.

As he turned to leave he noticed the handkerchief he’d used for washing up where he’d thrown it on his bed and he had an idea. The handkerchief was partly dirty and bloodied where he’d used it to stop his cut bleeding earlier in the day. He shrugged, not dwelling on the thought. The best way to find out if Mir’iam Sedai was the Sister from the yards would be to go to the meeting the Master of Arms note had ordered him to attend.

His preparations had made him run a little late and he hastened towards the Tower, knowing full well it would probably take him some time to find the right Ajah Quarters. The Tower could be a maze even for the initiates and Doran held no illusions that he would be more fortunate. Luck seemed to smile at him though and as he’d entered the Tower and made his way through the main hallways towards where the Ajah Quarters were located he came upon a Novice, probably only a few years younger than himself, who were carrying a rather large pile of books.

“May I help you ma’am?” Doran asked with a bow as he approached the girl. She jumped and almost lost the books. Doran waited patiently while she steadied her grip on them, smiling charmingly at her. She looked him up and down.

“Novices are not to associate with Warders in training you know, so you better just move on,” the girl said, but she sounded hesitant and shifted the books in her arms once again as if realizing their weight.

“Oh I’m not here to… associate with you,” Doran said with an innocent smile, “I’m on my way to meet Mir’iam Sedai and I figured you were going to the Brown Ajah Quarters as well, judging by the books you carry. I simply wanted to help,” he shrugged, “but I see my error now and will not bother you further.”

He turned as if to leave, his smile widening, and as he had predicted the girl called him back almost immediately. She let him carry herbooks and together they made their way through the Tower until they stood outside a simple wooden door in the Brown Quarters. Doran handed the books back with a bow and then turned towards the door, leaving the novice gaping behind him. No doubt she had expected him to try some of that association any way. He was already a little late though and as soon as the novice had moved on he knocked on the door.

“Come in!”

Doran entered as soon as a woman inside answered the door and realized right away that he had been right in his assumption, it was indeed the pregnant Aes Sedai from the yards. The room looked like a mixture of an office and a library; a stout writing desk made of dark wood stood to the left, away from the walls which was covered in bookshelves. A leather protection covered the writing area of the desk and books and papers littered it together with what looked like replicas of various artifacts. To his right Doran could see the Aes Sedai sitting in a plush chair, another one just like it vacant and with a side table in between them.

Mir’iam a’Del Nor smiled at him and beckoned for him to step forward, placing as she did so a cup with a steaming beverage on the side table. Doran could not help to notice that the cup smelled foul; probably a concoction meant to ease her condition. In his experience all mixtures meant to improve your health demanded you to stomach them first. As he moved forward he took one last look around the room, fascinated with the adventures touch of it. A painting of a ship hung on the wall and next to it was the head of what looked like either a very large teethed fish or a small sea monster. He turned his gaze to the small woman.

The Aes Sedai was not alone, a tall, blonde man wearing the colors of the Asha’man stood behind the chair where she was sitting. The man rested his hand protectively on her shoulder and watched Doran with an unexpressive face. So she has a Warder, Doran thought as he approached, and he is an Asha’man. What in the Light does the pair of them want with me?

"You wanted to see me Aes Sedai," he said when straightening from his bow, settling in to attention. He had the untimely urge to flatten his hair again but resisted.

"Ah, yes Doran, thank you for coming. I owe you an apology."

"Nothing of the sort, I'm sure Aes Sedai," Doran said, trying to remember what had happened during their brief encounter in the yards that could warrant this meeting, let alone such a remark from the Sister.

"I did not introduce myself when we met earlier, that was very rude of me. Allow me to make amends now, I am - as I'm sure you now know - Mir'iam a'Del Nor. This is my husband, Justen Trizidad."

"I'm pleased to meet you Mir'iam Sedai. Sir." Doran inclined his head to them both and received a short nod from the man in reply. Good, then he hadn’t upset him by addressing him such; Doran had never actually spoken to an Asha’man and was at a loss as for how to behave. In the end he decided to treat the man like he would any superior – polite and cautious until he showed his colors.

"I seem to remember a question asked you by your sparring partner Doran, have you found an answer yet?" the Brown Sister asked, a hand resting on her growing belly.

"No Mir'iam Sedai," Doran said with a shake of his head. "To tell the truth I haven't thought much about it."

"A pity. It's an important question. How would you like to search for the answer while accompanying my husband on a small quest on my behalf? As you can see, I am a little far along to be of much use guarding my husband," a smile appeared on her lips, as if her husband needing her protection was something funny. She patted the babybump on her stomach, "so I am seeking someone to go in my stead. There are plenty of knowledgeable things one can come in contact with outside the sparring ring, beyond the walls of Tar Valon that may help you in your personal journey. My husband is not wholly domesticated, perhaps there is something he knows that will be of use to you."

"I'll go where directed Aes Sedai," Doran answered deliberately, stealing a quick glance at the older man standing behind his wife. "If Asha’man Justen wants to honor me by teaching me anything then I'll be glad to learn." There, that ought to satisfy both the channelers. Light, how had he ever thought he was cut out to associate with people of their rank!

"Don't be so quick to answer Siswai, you might not like the lessons," Justen said grimly and with a slight smile. It was difficult to tell if he was serious or not. It sounded like the Asha'man was trying to discourage him but Doran doubted the man could provide harder lessons than his teachers in the Tower.

"I'll remember that sir," Doran replied with a nod and a smile, "I'll still go where you'll want me to though." He suddenly remembered a thing. "As long as I can get permission from the Master of Arms that is."

"That has already been arranged." Mir’iam said, “You’re freed of your duties in the Tower while accompanying my husband.” How stupid of him, of course an Aes Sedai would have that covered. Mir'iam continued; "Aren't you going to ask me where I want the two of you to go, or what it is you are on a mission to retrieve for the White Tower?"

"I - " he hesitated, "if you want to share the details with me Mir'iam Sedai then I am all ears."

"He's a polite one, isn't he?" the Sister said, turning to her husband. He smiled in reply and Doran struggled to keep his cheeks from growing red.

"Ah, well, I'll let Justen fill you in then Doran. I'm glad you decided to come." Mir'iam smiled at him and motioned for her husband to take over.

Doran smiled back and adjusted his posture to a more relaxed one. He did not know what he'd just gotten involved with, but the meeting had turned out more positive by far than he had dared to hope. Not only was he not in trouble, it seemed like he would get a chance to leave the Tower for a while, to travel and see new places. The prospect enthralled him and he finally admitted to himself that it had frustrated him to live inside the Tower walls for nearly a year. He was too much of a wanderer to settle down like that.

The Asha’man said nothing and Doran waited, wondering for a moment whose idea it had been to bring him along. Watching the couple discreetly he decided that it must have been Mir’iams. Cautious and polite indeed.

“Sir?”

Verve found him a short time later putting Arrowen down for an afternoon nap. The gaidar waited patiently by the door while he finished humming the lullaby to the boy. Passing her as she held open the door for him, he noted she was freshly bathed and likely just off of the training field.

She closed the door behind them, careful not to wake the child. “Your wife wishes to see you. I will watch over Arrowen while he sleeps.”

Justen nodded, knowing it was likely a meeting with whoever Mir’iam had decided should accompany him. Yet he waited, sensing there was more on the gaidar’s mind.

V shifted. “I saw your runners had returned. I do not suppose Cliem sent you a message from Water Bay Manor?”

Guilt mixed with amusement at the woman’s inquiry. Amusement because Ververvathinen prided herself in her granite, no-nonsense attitude, and the hope that shone in her eyes, illuminated from with in by the gaidar’s love-light, amused the Trizidad. She certainly had not imagined she would have fallen in love the last time she had been at Water Bay Manor. And he felt guilt because he did not have a letter for her.

He shook his head, “If he had, I would have sought you out right away.” Justen hated that her shoulders drooped just a little and some of the light of hope dissipated from her gaze. He reached out and patted her on the shoulder. “Chin up. I hear my sister-in-law is hosting a party that we are invited to next month.” Excitement entered the gaidar’s step. She looked fit to hug Justen, but she bowed instead. He smiled, “But for now I must see what my wife wants. I have an inkling what it is, but the who alludes me.”

He left her to tend to Arrowen’s waking needs and stuffed down the guilt he felt for lying to her. At this point he was not sure if he would be around come next month. He sighed deeply. He stopped at the second door to their apartment, the one that led to their personal study room. Though it was not necessary for him to knock, he did so before entering. His wife gazed at him from her overstuffed chair, a steaming cup of tea positioned on her lips. The bond between them buzzed warmly at his appearance and he slanted her a grin. “I have been told you wanted to see me,” he waggled his eye brows suggestively.

Mir’iam laughed. He loved the sound of her laugh and savored it as he crossed the short room. He leaned over her, bracing himself on the arms of the chair. His nose twitched at the unpleasant scent that came from her drink, but it was probably good for the babe so he kept silent. “I know what you want mister. But you will have to wait. I have already sent for the Siswai and I will bode no argument that you will be quick with it!” She motioned him away with her hand. “Go stand over there for now, until he comes, so the temptation is removed.”

He groaned in mock disappointment even as he leaned in and kissed his wife on the forehead before straightening and retreating as she asked. The book containing information about the artifact lay open to the page upon one of the side tables and he doused his amorous intensions with the cool collection of words written on the page until there was a second knock at the door. He was frowning softly by the time their guest arrived. His wife had an eye for obscure references that led to magnificent finds. From what he saw the artifact was worth fighting for.

Justen opened the door before moving to stand behind his wife. He was not overly impressed by the scruffy looking Siswai but he listened patiently as his wife questioned the lad and invited him on the quest that Justen had agreed to, but had no plans to carry out. His mind was largely preoccupied with finding a suitable place to dump the puppy while Justen attended to his serious business. He really loathed having such a gangly anchor along for the trip.

His mind was wrapped so securely around where he could drop it off to be baby sat, perhaps a brothel would occupy Doran... that he startled when Mir'iam stared at him, the bond buzzing curiously. Justen cleared his throat and muttered a half thought before finding his mind. "Do you need more than a day to pack and make things ready?"

“No sir,” Doran Narvolo replied, “I can be ready in less time than that if you need me to.” Justen did not comment that it did not appear that the lad had much by way of important clothing pieces. It was not the young man’s fault that Justen’s annoyance at the circumstances was prickling. “Are we leaving on foot sir or do I need to arrange a horse from the Tower stables?”

Justen glanced at his wife. “We’ll travel by horses and bring one for our packs as well.”

“Yes sir.”

Justen winced. He had always hated the title of sir. Old men or people with too much authority were called ‘sir’. People like his father, the Captain, were who you called sir. It had always made the Trizidad uncomfortable. “And drop the ‘sir’ while we’re on the road Doran or you’ll drive me crazy.”

“Yes… Justen.” Doran said with a small smile.

He was not sure he liked that much better, but he reminded himself he would not have the runt around him all that long. He could handle it until then. Justen nodded. “I’ll meet you at the gates after breakfast tomorrow, now off with you.”

Doran left with a bow.

Justen remained where he was for several beats after the door closed, his hand absently stroking the soft fabric of the chair. He blinked and came to attention when his wife tapped the top of his hand. “Well, darling, what do you think?”

He saw no way around his answer other than honesty and his shoulders rose and fell with a sigh. “He is like a backwards born foal stumbling around on newborn legs. I thought you were going to send me with someone who could protect me should our backs be pressed against the wall. That I have my doubts could protect a flea from a cat.” He sighed again when she colored slightly and he added, “But it is done now. I will bring him with.”

“This is good,” she handed him her cup of tea.

He took it, not wholly certain what he was supposed to do with it until he felt her emotions through the bond. He looked into her bright blue eyes and saw her passion burning there. Justen laughed as he set the tea cup upon a solid surface where it would not be bumped. “I will not be gone that long, Love.” He returned to her and took her proffered hands and pulled her to her feet.

“You will be gone long enough,” she purred, rising on her tiptoes to kiss his lips. “And I do not expect any more visitors today,” Mir’iam bit her lip playfully. They looked delicious and he dipped his lips for a taste for himself.

~*~*~*~*~

Darkness lay around them like a comforting shroud. Night had fallen several hours ago, and dawn was in the throws of making its daily decision to break, causing the black of the night to glow purple. Her body was warm, pressed against his side. Her hand lay on his chest, covering his heart. Justen Trizidad stared up at the ceiling of their apartment. He twined his fingers with hers, stroking them gently. Mir'iam murmured something in her sleep and pressed closer.

With a sigh, Justen raised her dainty hand to his lips, kissing it gently. Then he shifted and slid out from beneath her. Once again she muttered and reached for him. He pulled the blanket up to her shoulder when she curled, cut off from the warmth she had been pressed to. He waited in the dark at the side of the bed for a long minute, waiting to see if she would wake. She shifted again, clutching the top of the blanket in her hand. He resisted the urge to bend down and kiss her. Instead, he turned away. Finding his breeches and shirt among their discarded clothing, he dressed and then slipped out into the hall.

The halls of the White Tower were silent, most of the residence still heavily invested in their dreams. Justen did not even sense life in the halls until he came upon the silent sentry lurking in the deepest shadows of an alcove. Justen nodded at the man, but received nothing in return as he kept going. Twice more he passed sentries, silent in their guard. It was not until he opened the door to the Library.

The fine hairs on the back of his neck rose. He had rarely heard the Library so deathly silent. The yellow glow from the fat candles gave the room an eerie, haunted feeling. The turning of the aged pages and the plop of hot melting wax was the only sound in the room. His entrance was met by several red-eyed Browns whose material had kept them awake and involved in their work. From experience, he knew they would remain awake until either their thirst for whatever they were researching was quenched, or they passed out from exhaustion.

He took in the various Aes Sedai sitting at the long table, but none of those were the woman he sought. He had an idea where he would find her and he dove into the dark maze of shelves. Their smell was familiar and pleasant in his nostrils. A warm yellow glow told him he was close and he slowed as he drew closer, stopping just short of entering the light. Justine Asher sat on one of the stepping stools that were strategically placed for the use of reaching the books on the higher shelves.

"Hello Aes Sedai," he said softly. Despite the fact that his voice had been barely above a whisper, the Aes Sedai gave a small startled shriek and almost dropped the book she was reading. He stepped into the halo of light and her slim shoulders slumped in relief. "Justen! By the Light you scared me!" Justen smiled politely. Nowadays it did not take much to scare the poor woman.

"That certainly was not my intent." He eyed the purple rings around her eyes. She was thinner than he remembered, and it had not been that long since he had seen the girl last, by his recount. His gaze flickered past her, to the shadows where a plush chair sat. "Where is Ghayln?"

Justine Asher smoothed the page of the book with her fingertips, slipping a red marker between the pages before closing it softly. "He went to bed some time ago, I believe."

"And you? Have you slept?"

Her pink lips curved in a smile and she brushed her hair from her face. "Your worry is not necessary, my friend." She added when he crossed his arms like a stern parent, "I napped earlier. I will be good for several hours. There are too many dreams and faces," her smile wavered and slid away and he wrapped his arms around her in a hug. She trembled in his arms but soon enough her hands rose and pushed him away. "I know you love your wife far too much and I love my Thason, so it is not a midnight rendezvous you seek."

Justen stepped back. "That is very true little one." He fell to a crouch as she once again sank to sitting on the stool.

She smoothed her skirts with her hands. "Your wife was here earlier," her gaze flickered to the window where the streaks of purple were fading. "Much earlier, I suppose. My Ghayln was not impressed with the name of the Siswai your wife dropped upon his ears. Narvolo, was it? I suppose my Warder does not have a high opinion of Siswai to begin with. Perhaps he has forgotten that is where he began."

"Or he does not want to remember the times when he was thrown about like so much fodder."

"Aye, he has come far," she covered a yawn with her hand. "What can I do for you, Trizidad?"

"I need to ask for your confidentiality. That nothing we speak of over the next several minutes will ever come back or reach my wife's ears."

"Why? You make it sound like having an affair would be a more excusable incident. What horrible thing are you planning on asking of me?" When Justen continued to remain silent her lip trembled. "I do not think I want to help you."

"You are the only one I can turn to in this. Please."

She rubbed her face with her hands. After a short time she shook her head, her face still obscured by her fingers. She stilled again. Finally wiht a sigh hse looked up at him. "What is it you need? What is said will remain between you, me, and the Creator."

Justen let out a thankful sigh and lowered his head. He had not realized how tense he had been, how much he had depended on her saying yes. "You have an intricate knowledge of the ter'angreals the Tower has cataloged, correct."

"They are not for your personal use, Jeroff Trizidad!"

He ignored her concern and blazed on. "Is there anything in the catalogs that would allow the Bond to be broken at a distance?"

"Your quest is for a simple artifact, your wife told me so. Where in that would you need something like...that? I do assume it is for you?"

"That is another reason I need your confidence. I am leaving Tar Valon, but I have no real intensions of going after the item my wife wishes me to. Not at this time, anyway, and I have a feeling it is much, much more dangerous." He paused and watched as she chewed on her thumbnail and eyed him warily between her limply hanging in front of her face. He resisted the urge to brush it aside, but he saved her nail from her lips and gave it a squeeze, "I have been tracking him since...well, since..." Her eyes widened and she stiffened. "I have been tracking him for some time now and I have finally caught his tail," she winced and he realized he had squeezed the blood from her hand. He tried to let it go, but she reached out and grabbed his hand. "Yes, I am going after Watase. And yes, that is infinitely more dangerous than going after some silly artifact."

She looked fit to argue, her mouth opened and closed several times as several emotions washed over her face. He wondered if she was going to chide him for calling their study and acquisition of artifacts and ter'angreals, but just hearing Watase's name was likely bringing back the memories of the torture she had taken in the Commander of the Children of the Light's company. If he had not been close enough to read her lips, he might not have heard her whisper, "I cannot..."

"Then neither can I," he straightened. "If I do this and succeed and....do not return, with the amplification of the bond, my wife may lose our child. I cannot let that happen to our legacy." Justen hoped the card he had just slapped down in front of the young Aes Sedai was enough. He did not have any anyone else he dared to ask. Tears that had been threatening to fall did so now, streaking down her snowy white cheeks. He hated himself right then, but not as much as he hated Watase for what he had done. She began to shrink then, pulling into herself and curling into a little ball of pain. Justen bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood. "My wife will be waking soon, I must go," he pushed himself to his feet with a sigh.

Her hand snatched out and grabbed him, pulling him to a stop. "Wait here." She launched herself into the darkness past the candlelight and soon the sound of her kid shoes scuffing on the ground disappeared.

Left alone, Justen felt an emptiness enter him. He did not like it and it caused him to shift from foot to foot uncomfortably. His tactics left him feeling rather dirty. On the other side of the candlelight, the sky was beginning to turn pink through the glass pane. He rubbed his tired brow with his thumb. The sun was rising. His wife was not an early riser, thankfully. He did not want to have to lie to her, should she deviate from that and wake to find him not soundly asleep beside her. Needing something to do while he wait, lest he think to long on the momentous undertakings he was about to embark on, he took a book from the shelf and made an attempt to read. But the usual balm of words did not hold him and after a few short pages he gave up and set the book back in its slot.

As the minutes stretched on, he meandered over to the window. There was not much to see outside either, but the city below, past the walls of the White Tower gave his mind something to think upon, if it was only in wondering how many people out there had known Yu Watase before he had become a Children of the Light. Justen Trizidad had only heard stories of the man in passing before Watase had attacked Do'Saidae, but afterwards, he had wanted to know everything he could about the ex-Vron Squadleader. They said even when Yu had been the leader of the Vron, his hatred for those who sided with the darkfriends was so great, that if he had not lived in the Tower and allied himself with the Aes Sedais, that they would have thought he was a White Cloak. Light, he knew the Tower could be cold in its dealings sometimes, but Justen could not see what they had done to him to make him hate Aes Sedais enough to now actively seek their death.

He wondered if the Tower, after hearing about the happenings with the attack by the White Cloak on Do'Saidae, was gathering any forces to stop Watase. Justen had the suspicion that they were not doing anything other than sitting on their hands on the matter, having wiped their hands of the former Vron. It was the same way the Tower had dealt with the last attack on Do'Saidae fourteen years ago. That time their enemy had been an odiferous army of Trollocs headed by one of the Dark Ones own. After it was all said and done and ten thousand lay dead on the battlefield, Mir'iam Sedai had returned home and pointed out the Tower's lack of involvement. So many human lives could have been saved if there had been more of them there. For her troubles, Mir'iam Sedai had been kidnapped and 'explained to' that the Tower did not get involved in things of a political nature.

Justen's fist hit the cold pane of glass as his frustration mounted. If this was the same incompetence Watase had suffered then....

"Here."

It was Justen's turn to jump. He whirled around to find Justine Asher Sedai standing behind him, a small purple velvet box held in her fingers. Justen eyed the delicate pink bow. "Uh...?"

With an impatient sigh, the Aes Sedai flipped a clasp and opened the small box, revealing a blue gem encrusted necklace. It lay at the end of a delicate gold chain. She picked it up and held it in one splayed hand. "It came in the box, and was recently brought back by an expedition much like the one you are passing up to..." Justine Asher cleared her throat and shook her head, "Your wife was not the one to catalog it, nor has she seen it yet, so she will not recognize it for what it potentially is. Someone will eventually, and she will certainly wonder like mad when you are suddenly no longer bound to each other." Her lips compressed in a line.

He nodded. "How does it work?"

She pulled out a second item that had been tucked in the box and motioned for him to take it. "The instructions that came with it, yes, it came with instructions, thank the Light, so we knew almost exactly what it does- things like this tend to have unexpected side effects- say that you simply insert that through your hand and you will be..."

Justen did not noticed she had trailed off. He was staring at the dull end of what appeared to be a door key on the end of a chain similar to the one on the pendant. The idea of shoving that through his hand sounded....excruciatingly painful....

"You know," Justine had placed the necklace back in the box. The lid snapped shut with a click that seemed to echo in the Library. She cocked her head at him, "Even if you use that, it will not stop the pain of her losing you. Your best choice would be to abandon this fool’s quest and simply go after the artifact she is asking you to."

"I cannot."

"Also know, when your wife comes and asks me if I knew of any of this, that I will not be able to lie to her. I will have to tell her where her necklace came from and the part it played. You put me in a very unpleasant position, Justen Trizidad."

"I will make it up to you."

"How, if your plan succeeds and you are dead?"

He kissed her forehead. "My being dead is not part of the plan, it is just stark reality that I am forcing myself to face."

She punched his chest and he grunted as if it hurt him. In truth, seeing her unhappy was making him ache. "I cannot and will not say Watase does not deserve it and that if I my fears did not keep me locked away in this shining Tower of ours I would set out and kill the bastard in your stead. Instead I am left helping you with this folly. Light help me! But it does not mean I am happy to let you go and die in my stead." He wrapped his arms around Justine Asher and spoke sweet nothings to her until she pushed him away and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Go. Just…go you great brave fool you."

"I will bring you the gift of news of his death, one way or another, and perhaps your mind will release you from your fears."

She looked dubious but she brought a smile to her lips anyway.

He snuck back through the halls of the White Tower, his half of the ter'angreal a heavy weight within his pocket. Back in their room, he quietly opened one of his dresser drawers and removed one of the decorative blue handkerchiefs with its frilly side that he kept for just the occasion of springing a gift upon his little wife. He meticulously wrapped the box with the necklace in its folds and set it on the dresser top where his wife would see it but not open it until he gifted it to her.

Then he crawled back into bed with his wife

The horse nuzzled her mule against Doran’s shoulder and the young man stroked it absentmindedly, his gaze locked on the main route from the stables. Justen hadn’t showed up yet and that was the most likely location he would come from. Doran didn’t want the man to be able to sneak up on him; he wanted desperately to make a good impression on the Asha’man. This was the best opportunity to show his superiors his real worth that he’d gotten since arriving at the Tower and Doran was determined to make the best of it. It was time for everyone to stop having doubts about his abilities. He pushed down the uncomfortably nagging feeling that it was time he put his own doubts aside. A part of him knew that this was it; accompanying a Warder and Asha’man on a quest for an Aes Sedai would show if he had been insane in entering the Tower or if he really could do it. He’d fought so hard to show everyone else they wouldn’t be able to drive him off but he had never really stopped to think about what he felt about it. Maybe that was part of his stubbornness.

The horse nudged him again and he turned to pay her some attention. She was a beautiful, slim chestnut mare, probably not as large as the horse Justen would show up on – all the Warders Doran had met seemed to favor big warhorses – but alert and well-tempered. She was intuitive and faster than one would assume, much like Doran liked to think of himself and he thought she suited him. Someone had given her the rather un-orthodox name Sage and they’d become fast friends in the year he’d spent in the Tower. Doran was comfortable taking care of horses, he’d done it for a year for Master Evlan before the man nearly got him killed, but he hadn’t been allowed to ride the horses and he was not a convincing horseman yet. His built coupled with a good balance and agility made it impossible to guess he’d barely been on a horse until he got to the Tower though.

Giving Sage a last affectionate pat Doran left her behind and went to check on their supplies. The packhorse, Allende, was a more moderately spirited beast, a grey mare with a stout frame and very little sense. She would be enough for their needs though and the animal carried no more than provisions, water and fodder for the horses. They would probably have been able to do without even that since it was just the beginning of autumn but upon ordering their provisions Doran had realized he still didn’t know where they were going and had settled for the standard gear. If Justen wanted anything else he would just have to bring it himself. Sage carried Doran’s blanket, a few personal affects and a bow with a quiver. It still made Doran feel clogged. Before he joined the Tower he had never traveled with more things than he could carry on his back and never with a weapon other than his sling. He grinned as he went over the provisions again, checking one last time that everything was securely fastened. He could not stop feeling elated over the fact that he was really leaving the Tower.

Finally Doran went back to waiting for his companion to show up. So far he was alone except for the guards at the gate but it wouldn’t be long before the usual petitioners and Tower inhabitants would pass through at a steady pace. Doran drew his hand through his messy hair. Excitement had kept him up during the night and mixed with the sleep deprivation it made him feel a little giddy. The adrenalin kept him focused but he kept shifting his weight and stroking his short sword to get an outlet for his excitement. The feeling of the sword on his hip warmed him and made him think about the encounter he had with Bernyam after he had collected his weapons…

***

“Ho, hey!” Bernyam had said when Doran showed up outside his rooms, clearly the Manshima had been waiting for him, “What are you doing here siswai? I thought you would be sleeping on the floor outside the entrance to the Brown Ajah quarters to make sure Trizidad won’t leave without you?”

“Why, should I?” Doran’s nervous smile made it obvious he hoped rather than believed it was a joke. “You heard then?”

“I don’t think there’s a trainee in the Tower that doesn’t know you’re leaving together with an Asha’man man,” Bernyam had said with a clap on his shoulder. “Most of us thought you’d be leaving with a bunch of bruises and a sulky look on your face so you shouldn’t be surprised the news has spread. There’s not a single siswai who isn’t green with envy right now. Light, I’m not sure I’m not envious myself!” Bernyam laughed. The borderlander was a big, bulky man who smiled readily enough outside the training yards. Most people tended to make the mistake of taking him for stupid, probably based on his size, but they never made that more than once. Doran had liked the man from the start. Bernyam had the tactful quality to separate what happened in the yards from the rest of Tower life.

“Why, do you know this Justen then?” Doran asked hopefully. He longed to know more about his travel companion but so far no one he had spoken to during the day knew much about Justen Trizidad. Doran didn’t exactly move in the same circles as a seasoned Asha’man so that wasn’t really strange. Bernyam was practically a Warder though, all he needed was an Aes Sedai to bond him. Maybe he knew something of the man.

“Not much,” Bernyam had said with a sobered expression, ”but from what I heard he is supposed to be a fair man with a sense of humor. He and his wife have always traveled a lot but less so since their son was born.” He shrugged. “That’s about all I know, but I’d say you’re a lucky bastard, there’s plenty of worse men you could travel with than Justen Trizidad.”

Doran nodded. Bernyam might be right about the Asha’man but Doran was a good judge of character and he had his additional thoughts about the man. One of them was that Trizidad had not wanted him along on this quest. But maybe he shouldn’t read too much in to that, no Warder or Asha’man was likely to be thrilled by the prospect of having a Siswai around. It was going to be an interesting trip.

“Enough about Justen Trizidad,” Bernyam said with a grin, taking a firm grip on Doran’s shoulder and leading him through the door to his room. “I won’t let you leave without a toast for your health – no, burn your health, I’ll toast for your survival of the real world outside of these walls! I brought the foulest tasting brandy I could find…”

***

Doran was brought back to his musings by the sound of a horse approaching. He instantly straightened up but relaxed again when he saw it wasn’t Justen Trizidad. He settled back to waiting. The first people from the city arrived at the gates and Doran watched them entering after being cleared by the guards. He liked watching people coming to the Tower, most came with dreams and hopes and Doran always thought he could see it in their faces. He had to wait a little while longer and then he spotted the blond Asha’man moving towards him, leading his horse. Doran checked on the horses one final time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything and then tugged on his uniform jacket. After that there was nothing else for him to do other than watching the other man advance. Doran was pleased to see Justen had brought the same equipment as he. Eventually the older man stood before him but still he said nothing and just studied Doran and the horses. Doran took the Asha’man’s lead and stayed quiet.

Finally Justen nodded and mounted. ”Well, are you coming or not?”

Doran hastened to imitate his superior and scrambled up on Sage with much less grace than he had intended. When he had finally gathered his reins and the reins of packhorse Justen was already passing through the gates out of the Tower. Doran kicked Sage’s sides to catch up with him. He had not exactly expected a ‘god morning’ but he had at least thought the man would want to inspect the supplies before they started off. Doran shrugged. Either Justen wasn’t a morning person or he simply trusted Doran to bring what was necessary. Somehow Doran suspected the first option to be the right one.

Eventually Doran caught up and was able to slow down to a more reasonable pace. He thought he saw a smile on Justen’s lips.

“Good morning sir…” Doran grimaced. It had taken him a while to get used to the ‘sir’ and it seemed it would take just as long to become unaccustomed to it. “I mean.. good morning.”

“Good morning Doran. Did you sleep well?”

Doran hesitated and then he shrugged. “No, not really. Nerves I guess.” He stole a glance at Justen. The man was definitely smiling now. “I’m feeling sharp though and ready to go.”

“That’s good.” Justen seemed content to leave it at that and Doran settled back, riding a few steps behind the Asha’man. Doran was usually a talkative young man but he realized it was time to wait again. Luckily he was good at it.

"What's amiss, Lover?"

Justen blinked as his wife]s delicate hand appeared in the looking glass on the front of his plain traveling ashirt. Her fingers splayed and traveled over the white fabric. He brought his hand up to caress hers. "There is nothing wrong. I am simply running through my mind the last minute details."

Her blue eyes appeared around his forearm. "How long have we been married?"

Justen blew out his cheeks. He brought his hand up and ticked off the time. "What is this? Seconds day of the week. We're at the end of the month. We've been back fro Do'Saidae.... Three weeks?"

She giggled and slapped him. "The point I suggest is that I know you better. Something troubles you." The rest of her appeared at his side and his eyes went lower to the blue gem that dangled above the valley of her breasts. It swayed gently, mocking him in its appearance of innocents.

He had given her the necklace when they had broken their fast, though she had seen the package earlier she had patiently waited for him to present it to her. In the light of day, it closely resembled the color of her eyes. He wondered if those eyes that he loved so much would turn as cold a blue as the stone once she realized his deception.

He gave his head a small thought, dislodging its train of thought. "I am fine, I assure you. Simply thinking."

“That is the problem,” she murmured. “You should be titillating like a school child on a snow day at the opportunity to disembark from the Tower.”

“I amexcited. And grateful,” he forced some enthusiasm into his voice. It fell short of being genuine, however and he sighed again. He longed to tell his lifemate his plan, to unburden his soul to her. There were too many secrets between them, as of late. But he knew if she even suspected, she would have him cut off from the One Power and trussed up before he could say ‘by your leave’ in an effort to save him from his intentions.

So he brought a lesser point of his agitation to her attention, “In truth, I am not overly pleased or certain about this Doran character. I would much rather travel with a brace of gaidin, instead of just one. Who, if I am not mistaken, would probably need the other twelve to watch his back,” he added. He turned to his wife, keeping her at arms length when she would have stepped forward to embrace him and convince him to her way of thinking with the embrace of her body. “If I should be titillating, then Narvolo is the little runt who always finds his head pushed into the dirt.”

She pouted when she did not get her way with his body, “That is the precise reason I want you to take him. Get his face out of the dirt. Teach him, teacher.”

Justen frowned, “I know it has been a while since your school days, but even you must remember the ridicule those that hid under the teachers plaits brought down upon their head.”

“Ah, but you’re not coddling him, or protecting him. Show him a few moves; toss him around a bit. Give him a few one on one lessons. Let him do things, inspire confidence in his breast.”

He viewed his wife. She was not going to relent. Besides, the sapling was probably already waiting below for Justen to make his appearance.

“Why are you fighting me so hard on this?” there was pure confusion in her voice. “I would think you would have enjoyed this and would have enjoyed the company. Even if he has no skills as a fighting dancer, there must be some thoughts in his head that you would find pleasing and would make for a good traveling companion, given how much he reminds me of you, when we first met.”

Justen blinked. Trapped in his own thoughts, he had not even made that connection. He really was trapped with the lad through his wife’s good intensions. For his true intensions and destination, it made him fear for the lad even more. He had no doubt that the Justen of his youth would have not stood long in the shadow of Yu Watase. He shivered, “That is a frightening thought.”

Mir’iam smiled. “And were you not better for having mentors like Richaird Rhoen and Thorin Mazrael? Did they not watch your back even as they taught you life lessons?”

“Neither left me unscathed…” Indeed, the musician and thief Richaird Rhoen’s men had beat the snot out of Justen and had nearly sent him into the hereafter. Mazrael had been one of his teachers when he had first come to the Black Tower to learn how to use the One Power. As teachers went, Thorin was the kind that seemed to enjoy pushing the new recruits face in the dirt as much as the schoolmates did.

She removed an imaginary piece of lint from his collar and let her fingers linger there. “But you are still alive. And you will return Doran in the same state, maybe a little ruffled and worse for wear, but better for it.”

The sun streaming through the window shifted, he could feel it through his clothes as a new warm patch blossomed on his leg. It was getting late in the day and he had wanted to be gone already, it had only been his own thoughts of Doran Narvolo that kept him loitering in his mind, here in his chambers. And arguing with his wife on the subject would take millennium, if he sought to bring her to his way of thinking on this matter.

His shoulders slumped. There was no helping it, he would have to leave Tar Valon with the stripling. “Very well,” he leaned forward and kissed the top of his wife’s head. “But if I return him to the Tower in two or three or even twelve pieces, I am not taking responsibility.”

She giggled and kissed his chin. “I know you will do your best.”

He closed his eyes and pulled her close to his chest. The ter’angreal Justine Asher had given him last night pulse softly in his pocket. I will do my best…

~*~*~*~*~*~


Once he left their quarters, he retrieved the item from his pocket. Justen paused in one of the stretching halls of the White Towers, in one of the narrow out of the way alcoves on his way, to study the item in the bright day’s light that filtered through the window. The metal of the key appeared tarnished and dull- almost black when compared to its sister part.

Also, it was no longer pulsing, if indeed it had been pulsing at all. It may have just been his guilt stabbing him repeatedly between the ribs. He once again thumbed the dull point of its end. He supposed for a long time he had known his death would never be a painless one of old age like some men and that his recklessness would eventually be the end of him. He was surprised several times over that both Trizidad brothers had not yet met their ends. Much of it was due to pure dumb luck.

He had the feeling that this was dumber than anything he had thrown him at thusfar. He doubted Lady Luck would stick by his side through this folly. He thrust the key and chain in his pocket and hefted his trail bag on his shoulder. Dumb or not, he was committed.

His heart remained near the souls of his feet, treading heavily upon the beating muscle, as he made his way down to the stables. His long strides found him quickly standing before Doran Narvolo. He eyed the scruffy looking young man, his thoughts still on the peril before them, and on his wife’s suggestion of tossing him around a bit for his own good. He considered lashing out now, hindering the striplings well being in a way he would be unable to accompany Justen.

He looked at the dull look on the young man’s face, felt the restrained excitement bubbling up from beneath the cracks and sighed inwardly. There was pride in the young man too, and that was something Justen could not find it in himself to shatter. He would have to wait until they would out of the walls of Tar Valon. Perhaps he could convince the lad to hole up in a bordello or some such where he could remain blithely out of sight for as long as it took for Justen to be safely away. It would be a pleasant place to stow a young man, and he might yet learn something.

With that happy thought, he threw himself into his saddle, now more ready to leave Tar Valon behind. ”Well, are you coming or not?” he queried when Doran did not immediately follow suit.

He leapt into action then, clumbsily throwing himself upon his mounts back with enough force that he nearly tipped off the other side before finding his seat in the saddle. Justen blinked at the boy and had to smile. This is what I looked like when Mir’iam first met me? No wonder she was slow to warm to my charm. He flexed his knees and his mount started forward. He was passing through the gate when the metal jangle from their packhorses finally caught up with him.

“Good morning sir…” Doran grimaced. “I mean... good morning.”

He appreciated that the lad caught his words, though he was not terribly interested in getting to know the young man. Doran did not know that and there was no call to be rude so he returned the greeting and made small talk, “Good morning Doran.”

He set them on a course out of Tar Valon on the proper road south that his wife had drawn out for them to track down the artifact. Justen was rarely long winded, even less so with people he had just met. Even less so when he had no inclination of traveling with him for a time- there was no point getting to know him in that case. Doran honored the silence as they worked their way through the congested streets and then out of the southern gate onto the road. Occasionally he felt Doran eyeing him, but he remained blessedly silent.

They were a solid mile out of the city limits when Justen reined in his horse. The young man’s head swiveled around with enough force that the Asha’man expected his neck would be sore the next day. Clumsily, the lad jerked the reins, confusing the horse into a stumbling halt. It took a couple more tries before the mare was turned about and returned to where Justen waited.

“I fear, young Dorian, that you have been misled.”

His brow condensed on his forehead. “What do you mean, sir-er…”

Justen smiled grimly. “You see, my wife thinks I am leaving Tar Valon on a very noble quest to obtain a once lost and now possibly found artifact that might help the Light in the upcoming years as the true Dragon makes himself known and the forces of the Dark One move in earnest. That I am not planning on going after said artifact does not mean I do not think it is important but there are other factors that weigh heavily upon my mind that I must set myself to first. Do you understand.”

“Yes.” Doran blinked and then shifted in his saddle. “No?”

Light, at least the boy is honest. "I do not need to have my wife find out that I am off on a different adventure than she intends, but I have my own prerogative. I do not mind the company, but I will not force you to come. I am asking you, however, if you do not come with me, to hole away in a brothel or some such for a period of time that I might finish what I intend. I am not saying I do not intend to collect the artifact, it is simply secondary in my intentions. What say you? Up for an adventure?" he smiled.

So there it was. The reason Doran had felt so strongly that Justen didn’t want him along. Doran could see the change in the Asha’man as he revealed the true purpose of the trip; the man looked focused and more alive than only an hour earlier when he’d arrived from the stables. Like a dog finally released and set on his track, Doran thought.

“I’m always up for an adventure,” Doran said slowly to give himself some more time to think. He’d spoken the truth; he was up for an adventure and always had been, but the prospect of disregarding an Aes Sedai’s order and follow her husband on a secret mission gave him pause. Upon entering the Tower he had vowed to change his life and try to live by what was right. Though he had primarily meant no stealing or begging he figured it probably applied to following Aes Sedai orders as well.

“That means you’re coming then Doran?” Justen asked, already dismounting as he spoke. “Or should I point you in the direction of the nearest brothel? Tar Valon won’t do of course but there’s a small town two days down the Caemlyn road that should have quite the establishment you need…” The Asha’man grinned.

Doran couldn’t tell if the man was laughing at him or if he was just pleased at the prospect of setting out on his own. Either way Doran found it put his back up. He was not some puppy to be diverted by a treat and left behind.

"I don't know what you have heard of me, probably nothing and rightly so, but I'm not a man who visits brothels.” True. Doran had never had the coin for it. "If you want me to leave then say so and I will go. But Mir'iam Sedai told me to go with you so that's what I'll do.” Doran swung his right leg over Sage’s head and jumped down, turning as he landed to care for his horse. He knew he’d sounded a bit sharp and didn’t want Justen to see the annoyance in his face.

“So you do have a backbone?” Justen said and Doran thought he could hear amusement in the older man’s voice. “That’s fine, come along then. I want to leave now though.”

Doran glanced over and saw that Justen was raising his arms, a look of concentration on his face. He realized the man was making himself ready to use Saidin and couldn’t help but to shudder slightly. Men might be able to channel safely now but that didn’t mean it was natural for them to do so.

“Wait,” Doran interrupted and Justen lowered his arms. “Before I agree to any of your adventures I think you'd better tell me what you're up to. I might decide to opt for the brothel still," he grinned, trying to make up for his earlier words. He felt flattered by Justen's offer to join him but that it turn made him wary. People rarely did him any favors and he'd been double-crossed by what appeared to be honest men before.

"Have you heard of Yu Watase?” Justen replied. “It wasn't that long ago though the Tower does not make it a habit of announcing turncoats.." Doran shook his head. "Well, I am going to go kill him. Aye or nay, my quarry is slipping through my fingers and I must prepare to go," with that he turned and raised his hands again.

Justen wanted to kill a turncoat? Doran shook his head, he had a strong feeling that Justen was not telling him all there was to the story. But then again Doran couldn’t blame him, he wouldn’t tell a siswai more than what was necessary either if he was in Justen’s position. Watching the Asha'man channel Doran decided he would just have to trust to the fact that Justen was a part of the Tower, or rather of both the Towers.

Suddenly a small dot of light appeared in the air in front of the Asha’man and Doran watched it, awestruck. For a moment it just hung there and then it widened in to a thin slice of light so bright Doran found it hard to look at it. Still, he couldn’t look away; this was the first time he saw Saidin channeled. It even took his mind from the man’s announcement of an intended murder.

The slice of light turned and opened up into a gateway. On the other side of the opening Doran could see a clearing with trees – beech and elms it looked like - surrounding it and a road in the distance. The sun shone warm in the clearing and Doran could tell they would have to take off their coats to cope with that heat. Doran didn’t know his geography well but he could tell the Asha’man had opened a gateway to someplace a fair distance from Tar Valon.

Now he truly had to decide whether to join Justen or not. If he stepped through that gateway there would be no going back, then he’d really joined the Asha’man in setting out to kill a man. Looking back and forth between the Gateway and the Tower in the distance he shrugged and started for the gateway, tugging on Sage’s and Allende’s reins until the horses followed him. Unsure as he might be about what lay beyond that gateway he knew that he did not want to go back to the Tower, not before finding out where Justen was going and why he wanted to kill a man so badly he went against his wife’s orders. Not knowing would no doubt irk him endlessly and certainly not help with his urge to vagabond. Quite the opposite. He had no choice, really.

As Doran reached the gateway he hesitated. He’d spent his adult life wandering, not knowing where to find a bed or a meal, but for some reason the prospect of traveling across half the world in a heartbeat bothered him. He'd walked across the continent to get to the Tower and this just felt like cheating.

Doran stared at the gateway and Justen motioned for him to go on.

"Well, you have to actually step through it, you know. I'll follow. Never done this before, have you? Do not worry, they are not my favorite way of traveling either, but we must move fast." Justen said. “Go on, move.”

Doran nodded and stepped through, leading his horse and their packhorse. Both were clearly nervous about the gateway and Doran had to work to make them move through it. Shortly after they were through the Asha’man followed. Doran watched as Justen closed the gateway behind them, watched his travel companion who had so calmly stated his desire to go and kill a man. This would not be the trip he had thought it would be.

Through the swirling air of the Gateway, Justen could see Water Bay Manor. He could see the extensive garden that curved around the back of the rose hued brick two-story mansion. He could just make out the sprawling stables behind it. He could not smell anything yet, but the vast array of colors of the different species of flowers told him his senses were in for a treat.

Leading his mount forward, they stepped off the hard packed earth of the road outside of Tar Valon. He held the reins near the bit so the horse would not get spooked by its surroundings and make an erroneous step. He drew in a deep breath as soft mulch began to cushion his steps. A smile split his lips.

The air smelled as sweet as he had imagined it would be. The gentle wind that blew, took soft pink petals from a nearby flowering tree and sent them pinwheeling thought the air. Justen reached up and brushed a couple of them out of his hair as he turned to look behind him. The Gateway was closing and Doran Narvolo looked left and right curiously. It was difficult for Justen to figure out what was going through the younger man's mind.

"This is my sister-in-laws home, Water Bay Manor. We are about half a day's ride from Tanchico, thataway," Justen explained, pointing. "Lady Kaladron." He grinned, adding, "I would not call her that unless she is surrounded by her neighbors, however," he warned.

"What should I call her then?"

"Nivenh'Mia," he replied.

The path they were on curved around a row of carefully squared shrubs. Justen came to an abrupt stop when they came upon the woman shaping one of the dense stubby trees. "Moirrine! Wot's art? Is my brother around?"

The woman dropped her sheers and embraced Justen briefly. She smoothed her pink apron before answering that he was out at sea. Justen felt a bit of disappointment at not being able to tussle with his brother, potentially for the last time. He cleared his throat, dismissing its tightness. Seeing his brother would not have changed anything. It might simply have made it more difficult, or, worse, put one more life in jeopardy. "Is my sister-in-law entertaining anyone?"

"Not that I know of," the gardener said, smiling. "She will be mighty pleased to see you."

He smiled and thanked Moirrine before skirting around her, leading his horse and Doran out of the garden. He tied his mount to a post outside the white fence that ran along the gardens edge and the Siswai followed suit. "This will be but a short detour," he said over his shoulder as they headed for the back porch, "then we will be on our way. I have never been to Roelford, and Water Bay Manor is the closest place I have been to our destination. We have a weeks worth of hard riding ahead of us. Are you up for it?"

Doran shrugged. "Why Roelford?"

"The man I seek is holed up in the city. I have been keeping tabs on him since...well, let's just say for some time. He is an elusive bastard. All I have had to go on is rumors until now," he trailed off as he scaled the steps onto the long porch. A grin slid over his face as his gaze landed on his niece. She was sitting on the porch at the feet of her sitter. Her wide purple eyes landed on Justen and she let out a happy shriek, extending her plump little two-year-old's arms up in the air and waving them wildly about. "Hey Kin!" he reached down and plucked her from the porch. "Where's mommy? Where's mommy?" he swung her around, inciting a new bubble of laughter from the young girl.

The young woman who had been watching Makienne rose with a smile. "I will see if Lady Kaladron is available," she gave a small bobbing bow to Justen and wove her way around the Siswai before disappearing inside. Still holding his niece, Justen took up one of the lounge chairs. He entertained himself with amusing the child, making odd faces and sounds. His foot tapped on the porch, unable to wholly distract himself or hide his impatience. He wanted to be away. Perhaps what he had planned to entreat from the mercenary was unnecessary- they should have just continued on their way.

"To what do I this pleasure?"

Justen snapped to attention, his lips slipped from their pursed position and slid into a smile as she strode out of the white paned doors. Justen tried to see his sister-in-law through Doran's eyes. He took in her purple eyes and the plate of braids that fell down her back. He was used to her manor of dress now, but he had to imagine that the mesh of the two styles, the body wrap of soft fabric that contoured around her body like a second skin had been adapted into the customary Tarabonian style of a person of her rank. It was an alluring and exotic combination and it suited her.

Nivenh'Mia approached him, raising her arms and enveloping him in a hug. He caught warmth and wariness in her eyes before he pulled her close in a hug, patting her back, "Hello brother." Stepping back, she patted his shoulder, "I received your wife's letter. Congratulations." She took a seat on the lounge chair on the other side of the porch table and Justen sat as well. They exchanged a few short pleasantries on babies and weather. All the while her purple eyes were taking Doran in. "I have the distinct feeling you are not here to socialize," she said finally. "What do you want and who is this young man? By his clothing you have taken him from your wife's Tower."

"Aldedorandred Narvolo, ma'am," Doran introduced himself. Justen frowned softly at the name. It certainly vied with Verervathinen for length.

"Siswai," Justen shrugged. "My wife decided I needed help traveling, in my old age."

She snorted. "You are still under forty you have nothing to complain about. Pleased to meet you," she added, shaking Doran's hand. "Now for the what."

Justen fidgeted. "I am going after Watase."

A chill descended over her features. "I see. No, I do not see. You are going by yourselves?" Justen nodded. "I take it you realize the danger?"

"To the core of my being. I'd like to ask you a favor," he reached into his pocket and held out three letters.

She planted her hands on her hips and did not reach for them. Already she could see names scrawled across them in his hand. Lightening fast her hand moved, slapping him across the face.

Justen saw Doran stiffen out of the corner of his eye but he shot the lad a warning glance. Nivenh’Mia had a right to her anger. Besides, if Narvolo attacked the woman, he would be broken in seconds.

"No. Do not put me in that position. What gives you the right to name me the bearer of bad news should your foolhardy quest fail?" the once-mercenary asked bitterly.

Justen worked his jaw. He set the letters down on the small table there. "Nothing gives me the right but anyone else would follow us into the Dark One's lair themselves."

"And what makes you think I won't demand to come with you now that I know your plan? You are not the only one his actions hurt."

He knew that she hated Yu Watase as much as he did and there were very few things that would keep her from pursuing his death, if his location was known. Justen looked pointedly at Makienne.

Nivenh'Mia swore a string of curses. Holding Makienne on her shoulder she turned, stepping around the servant who was only now coming to serve them chilled lemonade. The servant paused before continuing, setting the pitcher and glasses down on a small table.

Justen sighed and slipped the letters under the lip of the tray. "That went about as well as I had expected," he commented dryly when both women had retreated into the pink-bricked building. “I think we have accomplished all we are going to on this visit,” he pushed himself heavily to his feet. “Come. We have a long ride ahead of us and there remains no reason to tarry here.”

They returned to their horses and Justen proceeded to lead them toward the road that through the property. They had barely made it around the large building when Nivenh’Mia reappeared, her arms heavy with clothes. Her amethyst eyes flashed, none of the acrimony had faded and they flashed even as Justen smiled, albeit warily. He had known she would not abandon them completely. And she had seen something Justen had overlooked.

"You dumbleheads cannot go wandering around hoping to kill just one Whitecloak wearing Tower uniforms,” she said tartly, splitting the bundle and thrusting half of it into Justen’s arms.

He pulled the bundle to his chest before picking through it gingerly. "It had occurred to me," Justen said.

"You are both leaving your clothes here,” she added in the same tone, “I will warrant no argument. You are being fool enough as it is venturing there. I won't..." she cut herself off. She handed the rest of the pile to Doran, without the same force. He took it and followed Justen’s example, finding the pants, shirt and other items in the pile. Nivenh'MIa turned her back to them but did not leave.

“Whitecloak?!”” Doran hissed, leaning close to the Asha’Man. The older man shrugged
and started undressing. Doran gave him a long look before following suit.

Justen watched Nivenh’Mia out of the corner of his eye, as much to make sure she did not sneak a peak at the largely undressed man, partly to make sure she did not attempt to render him unconscious and unable to go through with his objective. Her arms remained crossed and her back remained to them. "You are being selfish, you know. Mir'iam needs you."

He blew out his cheeks. It was an emotional argument and one that he had been battling since leaving the Tower. His need to go after Yu Watase was equally emotional, and with the rage of Do’Saidae still fresh in his mind. "Do you not think I know that? She will survive, she is strong. "

"Watase will meet his end."

"I want it to be by my hand."

"So selfish," she muttered.

"You are not going to try to stop me?"

They were clothed enough so when she turned around, they did not need to snap clothing into place. Justen prepared for her to attack, he had seen that body language from her before. When she did not, he casually pulled his shirt over his head. "I should. Your wife will blame me for your death for not. Your wife will raze Water Bay Manor to the ground when she hears my involvement in this,” the woman shifted. Her skin tight weaves of fabric showed the ripples of her muscles as she did so, “But I want Watase dead as well. It will be worth it.” She turned, ignoring their partial state of undress and moved to her brother-in-law, wrapping her arms around his neck. Nivenh’Mia lowered her head briefly. There were tears on her lower lashes and a small smile on her lips as she said, “It is more than having Makienne to worry about. I am not nearly as insane as you, and I am more likely to slip in and out of their camp undetected and alive."

"This is true."

"I hate you just a little bit, right now."

He hugged her awkwardly back, "I know."

She stepped back, looked Doran in the eye, nodded then turned and left them.

He watched her until she disappeared inside the mansion. Then he turned to Doran. "You could stay here," Justen offered. "You could ride to Tanchico and one of the Trizidad Shipping Co ships could take you to Ebou Dar or Tear and from there you could travel back to the Tower."

His companion made a face. "I said I would come with you and so I will. You might be surprised, I might have something to offer to help you. Light know you could use it if you’re really going after a Whitecloak in their camp."

He shrugged. "It is easier to get one man in and out than two. I suppose I have seen enough death by their hands that I do not feel the need that two might die. I know how foolhardy this quest seems. But I am not turning back."

"Then neither am I. And I promise you there’s no need to worry about getting me in or out of anywhere." For once he was completely confident. Sneaking into places where he was not wanted was something he knew how to do."

"I won't ask again then."