Ash to kindle the flame

[Cirus]

Cirus breath turned into steam as he walked through the streets of Arilycas in the early morning, The streets of Arilycas were busier than Cirus would have thought in the morning, Soldiers, of course, were already at their posts for the morning, but shopkeepers and wagon drivers were also out in the predawn light. The torches burned dimly in the early morning, yet they somehow managed to still hide all the shadows so that none could hide in an alley or dark corner. It was a far cry from the early mornings of his youth, where people would wait until just after sunrise to begin wandering the streets.

The cold of the Saldean morning was a welcome feeling after a restless nights sleep. Even more so after the grueling training exercise that he’d put himself through in the morning. Drawing on the one power still did not come easy, and his own weakness only seemed to exacerbate the difficulties he had in drawing on and maintaining the one power. Rhian would probably have had a few words for him pushing himself so hard so early in the morning. The thought of the older dedicated made Cirus chuckle, a warm thought of home in a foreign land. He was starting to understand what his fellow soldiers meant by such things. It was a shame it took his first assignment away in over a year for him to understand it.

Cirus continued his musings as he made his way toward the wall that surrounded the town. His reason was simple, get a true look at the blight that so many of the brothers at the Tower talked about. The raid yesterday had been chaos, with his eyes turned towards the chaos that was the raid rather than the scenery. He wanted, he needed to see it. To understand what he was training to fight against. 

The wall itself was calm, there was almost no sign of what had happened yesterday save for the scorch marks and occasional scratched stone. The guardsmen on duty paid little heed to the Soldier who marched along the wall, their eyes trained on the blight, waiting to see if the shadowspawn and their allies would be so brave as to try to assault the walls again after their spectacular failure yesterday. Cirus doubted they would be so bold, but the shadow always struck in the most surprising of ways, it was how they had survived so long.

Looking out over the wall he could see the edge of the twisted forest. the trees leaves looked like they were barely holding on. It was a disturbing sight, but it wasn't enough for what he'd come here for. Reaching out to the one power he embraced the fiery torrent of power that was the male half of the one power. His senses sharpening as he did so, the air became crisper, the scent of ash from the previous day touching his nostrils. The taint of the Blight also became enhanced, he could see the death clearer now, the sick and rotting look of the leaves became almost individualized, and he would have sworn he could identify a point in the earth where the taint of the dark one was visible. This was what he had come to see, now he just had to understand how to fight it.

[Elaira Taravin]

Elaira woke with the first rays of predawn light filtering in through the window, a radiant and most unwelcome awakening. It took her a moment to remember she wasn't in the Tower, but as she gained her bearings everything made a great deal of sense. The guest chambers in the House of Aravell were richly appointed, but Saldaea wasn't a nation that suffered idleness, it seemed. The window ensured the bed received a particularly pleasant beam of light just as the sun poked over the horizon. It is an interesting trick, Elaira groused, pulling herself out of the comfort of the bed The bed was, admittedly, a step up from the inns she'd spent time in on her way north, and certainly better than an Accepted's rooms. It reminded her of her family's home in Caemlyn.

She padded across the cold stone floors barefoot, clad in only her shift. With a moment's concentration she embraced saidar and lit both the fireplace and the candle on the small desk. She didn't feel the cold, exactly, but she'd rather warm the room up against the spring's unseasonable chill. She sat at the desk and pulled her notebook from the satchel, examining it carefully for a moment with a critical eye before opening it.

She studied her notes intently by candlelight, periodically flipping back and forth between the pages. A new one, prominently titled "Lady Eshara Aravell" had been penned the night before, filled with what little Elaira knew of Alirycas' leader. It wasn't much. She'd written, and underlined, the word intimidating, and included a few names that sprang to mind. Queen Talana and the Amyrlin Seat both earned a single line and were a reminder of just what kind of woman she was dealing with. Lady Eshara Aravell didn't have as much strength in the Power, but Elaira knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that the woman could break her in half, should she choose. It was a sobering thought, but also an inspiring one. For all her strength Lady Eshara seemed somehow more approachable than those others she'd mentioned; perhaps it was meeting her as an adult and a full Sister, but Elaira felt she could learn from Lady Eshara in a way that she'd never managed with the other impossibly strong women in her life. She smiled, penning a few more thoughts before closing the book and standing. She wanted to take a closer look at the city and the House, if possible before any other obligations found their way to her. Her explorations had been halted by the raid the day prior, perhaps she'd catch up a bit today.

Elaira dressed quickly, pulling on a gray Andoran riding dress. It was well made and modestly cut, with embroidered golden vines along the arms and breast. She pulled a furred burgundy cloak on over the dress, slipped her feet into a pair of worn leather boots, and grabbed both notebook and satchel before making her way from the room.

Her first stop was an easy one. Elaira made her way through the nearly-silent House to the courtyard. It was dark, quiet, and still in the open air. The House itself blocked the dawn's light from the garden, at least for a few moments more. Elaira took her time to examine the fine strands of saidar, a faint glow in the dark. She even took a moment to sketch what she saw; Elaira wasn't sure if that actually helped her learn the weaves, but she enjoyed the comfort of the habit and the spider silk thin strands of saidar that kept the courtyard alive were beautiful.

She stayed there until the sounds of stirring in the House of Aravell were impossible to ignore. Elaira wasn't certain if she was ready to face the Kin just yet, not with so many questions unanswered. She instead made her way into Alirycas proper, surprised at the number of people already out and about with the dawn. Shopkeepers, soldiers, and travelers alike all filled the city's streets despite the early hour. The Borderlanders were not meant for sleeping in, apparently. She poked around a few shops, noting one in particular that seemed to be a seamstress for later. Eventually, though, she felt the storm in the air and turned her head to the wall.

She was able to follow it to its source unerringly, and at the source she found Cirus as she'd known she would. His mentor, that Terron, would likely have been stronger, an overwhelming tempest to her sense. Cirus' power had grown from that day in Caemlyn, but as far as she could tell it was a smaller squall. That was good, because if it had been Terron Elaira would likely have fled without a word.

She watched him for a moment. His eyes were fixed outward, toward the Blight.

"You're up early,"

Elaira said finally, finding a small smile. She recalled suddenly how they'd met, all those years ago. It had been early then as well, just after dawn.

"You seem...troubled. Is all well?"

[Cirus]

Looking out over the wall Cirus thought about how often in his childhood he’d thought of the creatures out there within the blight, how many times he’d been told they were nothing more than fairy tales that mothers used to frighten little children into being compliant. ‘Be careful how you speak to me or the Fade’s and their minions will steal you away in the night, and I won’t bother looking for you.’ The words of his mother, words that for the several years he lived on his own had been chalked up as one more lie she had told to him. Now he had a chance to see for himself just what kind of destruction those beings were truly capable of. They had tried to make it over the walls, light knows what would have happened if they had succeeded.

They hadn’t though, despite the best efforts of the dread lords they had been cut off from doing any lasting harm. The Kin had bound and taken the woman into custody, and Cirus had helped to spot the man who had ridden in with them. It was, unfortunately, his only contribution to the days events, and one that could have been done just as easily by Elaira Sedai. He cursed himself for his weakness, had it been Rhian or Gareth they probably would have struck directly at the Dreadlord, drawing away his attention and allowing the Kin to strike at the main force of the raid, or failing that at least have been in the thick of it among the soldiers riding out to cut down those who were fleeing. What had he done? He’d stood there and watched as the dread lords were strung up dragged up by others like a Sunday bird.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of approaching feet, not the heavy, rhythmic, thump, thump, thump of a soldier on duty. These were softer, with less haste but still possessing a purpose as they moved. One of the Kin perhaps? Come to survey the damage done and fix it up with their own use of the One Power? Or mayhap it was Lady Aravell herself, come to see the damage done to the wall? She struck Cirus as the type to take a very hands-on approach to things, especially given she had shown up for the defense yesterday just as things were starting off.

”You’re up early”

The voice told him immediately that he was wrong on both counts. It was a voice he was coming to know well, the voice of one of his saviors. The voice of one that he used to think he could always trust, one that he should still trust but a seed of doubt had been placed in his mind by the captain. Despite her effort to capture the dreadlord, he felt a small tinge of animosity in his heart. He felt guilty about that, her effort had likely saved his own life and those of the soldiers on the walls.

Turning his head he saw a small smile forming on her face. It cooled something in his thoughts, she was not bitter, or at least didn’t seem so. Almost immediately he found himself back in Caemlyn, small and terrified, with three people who helped pull him out of the gutter. He’d been small and weak then, more skin and bones than flesh and blood. What had changed? He might stand taller now, but he’d still cowered yesterday in the presence of others. He’d held his tongue against the captain, let himself be cowed by fear of reprisal. He’d been weak.

”Is something wrong?”

How much could he tell her? How much should he tell her? The interaction with the captain yesterday may have had him angry at the captain, but in the night since he had time to think about what the captain had said. This might still be the woman who had pulled him off the streets, but she was also Aes Sedai and a strong one at that. He wondered what the Captain would think? What would the M’hael think? He was certain that those two would be in disagreement on this, but whose example did he follow?

”Decisiveness is the mark of a true leader. Decide a course of action and act without regret.”

The line from Fog and Steel came unbidden to his mind, but it rang true. He had to decide what sort of Asha’man was he going to be. Was he going to act as the captain had, confronting a perceived slight? Or would he stand by those who were to be like him? As he continued to fight against Saidin he mulled it over in his head, and the power seemed to sense his hesitation, pushing away from his control, trying to overwhelm him. He made his decision, and as he did so the one power snapped back into his control.

“Nothing that needs worry you Aes Sedai.”

Cirus turned his eyes back to the blight, to the corruption that embodied what had been fought so hard to push back over one hundred years ago. He wondered how many had died on this spot, how many of the Black Tower’s founding members from that time had died on these fields? How many of those who had fled in fear of the madness had already been killed on land similar?

“I just had to see it, without the chaos of the battle.”

[Elaira Taravin]

Elaira watched Cirus as he turned to her. The silence stretched for a moment, and her smile faded. The bitter winds of a long-delayed spring whipped around her, her furred cloak caught and billowing around her.

"Nothing that needs worry you Aes Sedai." The Soldier turned, returning his attention to the Blight. "I just had to see it, without the chaos of the battle."

Discomfort stirred within Elaira, a skittering sensation that felt vaguely like undiscovered and uncomfortable realizations. It was only with remembered lessons on Aes Sedai comportment that she concealed a frown. Instead, she stirred uneasily, caught halfway between a step forward and a step away.

It was the title, she knew. She had been called Aes Sedai for only a short time now, by the people of Alirycas, primarily. Elaira had little experience grappling with what the title actually meant. Fear, suspicion, reverence. It meant a gulf between her and the world, whether she chose it or not, and Soldier Cirus' brief dismissal felt like a peek down a long and lonely road. She suddenly felt much, much older.

Steeling herself, Elaira walked forward, forcing her steps to conform to the stately, gliding grace of a full Sister. She stood beside Cirus and looked out at the Blight, silent surveying the encroaching darkness. Yesterday, Cirus had been...perhaps not warm, but not quite so distant either. It seemed the shock had faded and the guards and suspicions taught within the Black Tower had reasserted themselves. After a moment, she decided that was fine; Elaira remembered with clarity Cirus' reaction to her presence yesterday, the warmth it had brought her, and a faint smile returned to her face. That smile brightened her face noticeably, despite the grim scene before them, and her eyes took on a distant and searching look, as though she weren't really taking in what was before them.

Elaira stood there for a moment before allowing her wandering mind to return. Perhaps she could build a bridge.

"You helped me decide my Ajah, you know," Elaira said, speaking up finally. Her voice was soft, tone subdued and thoughtful. It was odd, to explain to anyone the reasons her road had taken the twists it had. "I wanted to help others who were lost, as we'd helped you. To bring light to those lost in the darkness. To bring hope."

She snorted suddenly, choking back a laugh.

"That, said out loud, sounds entirely too self-important. I've been too long at the White Tower, I think. My apologies"

The laughter was evident in her voice, and Elaira turned her eyes to Cirus. They were more gray than blue in the morning light and twinkled with mirth.

[Cirus]

The blight was an enemy of all humanity since a time before the breaking. The Asha’man had been created to fight against it, or so that was the history Cirus had been taught. He’d heard many things about it, when he was a child in Caemlyn he had been told that it was both a myth and a blasted and cursed landscape that no man could set foot in without going mad. Even at the Black Tower the place was somewhat shrouded in myth among the Soldiers, few had ever seen it, and those that had did not care to speak of it. The Dedicated and Asha’man had more exposure, but they rarely spoke of it as well. Cirus wasn’t sure if that was because of familiarity or fear, perhaps a mix of both.

Out of the corner of his eye, Cirus noticed Elaira move to stand beside him. For a brief moment, the Aes Sedai aloofness shined brighter than the warmth of the woman he’d seen yesterday. HE considered his own statement for a moment, had it been colder than intended? He had made his decision, but perhaps his own intent had not been so clear. He released the one power, hoping that doing so would make his tone return to being warmer. He struggled to find what else to say, but when she spoke he knew exactly what he was to say.

“It’s not so strange Elaira Sedai.”

He opted to try to be more informal, he was, after all, standing next to one of his saviors. The cloak of Soldier and Aes Sedai hung over them both, but he knew from the old books and tales that times were not always grim between the two towers. The captain may believe that they could not be trusted and that her objection had been born out of more than pride, but Cirus refused to believe that. The two towers were allies against the Shadow and in enforcing the Dragons peace. Differences in rank aside, her statement had shown that she was still very much one of the three who had shown kindness to a boy who had deserved none.

As he spoke he turned, letting his own focused countenance fall into what he hoped was a more friendly smile. The male half of the one power could make ones voice unintentionally cold, and he hoped to not set that kind of tone with one of the people who saved his life, no matter what he may become, or what she may become, she would always be one of the three who had saved his life.

“The term for your order means something like serving everyone does it not? To bring hope has been the role of the Aes Sedai since the breaking.”

The mirth in her grayish blue eyes made his smile slightly wider, how often had he wished he’d taken the time to write to her and Ishara? How often had he cursed himself for not asking Gareth how he would get a letter to them just to find out how they were? He’d lost that chance for years, he couldn’t let it slip through his grasp now.

"How long ago did you take up the Shawl?"

[Elaira Taravin]

Elaira's smile went from faint to radiant as she felt the storm dissipate from around Cirus. Saidin still made her uncomfortable; it had ever from that first moment when she'd sensed Cirus' grasp of it. The dark sensation of a raging storm was so...different than the gentle and warm presence of saidar. More than once she'd wondered how the men could withstand it. Without the storm within, the young man seemed much more approachable, and she was thankful for it.

“It’s not so strange Elaira Sedai.”

A smile crossed Cirus' features, and he looked younger for it. Less hard. The training at the Black Tower had to be frighteningly intense to have wrought this young man out of the frightened child they'd pulled from Caemlyn's streets. The smile made him look, perhaps, even stranger; it might have been the first time Elaira had seen that expression on him, but she was glad for it. Some hurts had eased with time, after all.

“The term for your order means something like serving everyone does it not? To bring hope has been the role of the Aes Sedai since the breaking. How long ago did you take up the Shawl?”

Elaira nodded, remembering the White Tower. It was a hard place to live, and it was not the life she'd ever expected for herself...but it was one that she'd grown to love. She worried about measuring up to the responsibilities of that life frequently, but she wouldn't trade it. Not for anything.

"Aes Sedai. Servants of all, in the Old Tongue. It's a difficult legacy." She leaned forward against the wall, looking out onto the blight with both cloak and hair draping around her. "I've been a Sister of the Red Ajah for two months, all told."

Most of that time had been spent on the journey to Alirycas, and she was keenly aware that she was still growing into the role. There had been those in the Tower convinced she was not ready for the shawl. She winced slightly at the thought, glad her hair still framed her face. If she were to actually take a count, Elaira was certain she'd find more than one Aes Sedai who was convinced that the shy, unassuming, and unassertive young woman would never be ready for the shawl. At least, not without mentoring of a sort she'd sooner avoid. Elaira wanted an accomplishment or two, if only to carve out a space for herself.

She turned to look at Cirus, still leaning over the wall. Elaira pushed the thoughts away, the smile smoothing from forced to genuine as she did.

"And you, Soldier Cirus? The Asha'man are a sword against the Dark One." She paused, examining him. "It suits you, I think."

[Cirus]

Cirus was grateful that Elaria Sedai’s attention was not on him, because at the mention of just how long she had worn the shawl his jaw dropped. He might have fallen if there hadn’t been the stone of the wall to lean against. The way she carried herself with calm through the interaction with the captain, and later with lady Aravell, he would have sworn she had been wearing the shawl for at least a year. Two Months?! He wanted to shout it out, but common sense won out over surprise. He took a deep breath as she continued on, listening to her without, he hoped, showing his surprise.

“The Red certainly suits your mission.”

To Cirus, it hardly seemed that Elaira was ever anything other than destined for the red. She’d been the one to talk him down from nearly bolting a second time after he’d nearly jumped from his skin, and he’d later found out she was the one who had pinpointed his location to the others looking for him. Some sort of rare gift that was similar if not identical to his own ability to tell when a woman was channeling near him. Lucky for him, as he’d found out later in his studies that if they hadn’t found him either he’d have died from the lack of control or learned to channel it on his own somehow. Given the circumstances he’d found himself in at that age, it was almost certainly the former would have happened if they hadn’t found him. If the Asha’man sent had tried to take him back, Cirus probably would have resisted, and died as a result. Without Gareth or Rhian to support him in the tower, he would have just given up and died.

”The Asha'man are a sword against the Dark One. It suits you, I think."

Asha’man, Guardian in the old tongue. He certainly hadn’t felt like much of a Guardian during the battle, barely even a soldier. For a moment he felt his gaze fall, his enthusiasm fade. Focus. Something in the back of his mind snapped before he could start feeling sorry for himself. For a moment he thought he heard old Farran snapping at him, the old man's voice would follow him this far north, despite the distance from the tower Cirus had spent too much time in the bloody forge on chore duty. He returned with the same smile coming back to his face that he’d held a moment ago.

“Thank you. It’s a difficult legacy to live up to, but I can’t betray those who helped me find purpose in my life.”

He couldn’t keep focusing on his faults, that was his old life. It was hard to let go of, even five years later, but he had to let go of it. Ancient heroes like Logain Albar, Taril Canler, and Damer Flinn had all struggled with their own past before becoming Asha’man. All had fought into the Last Battle and Cirus would do the same. He would not let himself end up another failure or corpse in the history of the Black Tower.

[Elaira Taravin]

The wind faded into silence, leaving the pair alone atop the wall facing out toward the Blight. The sun was higher in the sky, now, more proper morning than ephemeral dawn. It was, almost, pleasantly warm. The chill was still a bit much for Elaira, but without the wind it felt almost like something she'd have called spring in Caemlyn. She was still very thankful for the concentration techniques the White Tower taught; Elaira wasn't certain she'd have managed this Borderland 'spring' without them.

She leaned against the wall, watching and listening to Cirus. The young man seemed...rigid. Disciplined was putting it mildly. She supposed that only stood to reason; it was unlikely that the Black Tower was any gentler with its recruits than the White. If anything, from what she had heard, they were even more stringent. Elaira's smile remained, gentle, as she listened.

“Thank you. It’s a difficult legacy to live up to, but I can’t betray those who helped me find purpose in my life.”

Elaira nodded slowly in response, rubbing at her right hand's ring finger absentmindedly with her thumb. Her Great Serpent ring was there, underneath the thin gloves she wore. A difficult legacy indeed, and not one either of them had prepared for, but one that was worth the effort. The roads ahead of them both were long and unexpected, but worthwhile. The silence stretched out for a moment, not even the roar of wind to interrupt it.

"We each carry our own difficult burdens, Soldier Cirus."

Elaira's voice was quiet, contemplative, and she turned her eyes back over the wall again. Back toward the Blight.

"I will do the best that I can with my own."

She turned an eye toward him, still smiling.

"But you have little idea how much it means to me to know that you've found your way. It...knowing that I've made at least one right step makes all the other burdens that much lighter."

She closed her eyes for a moment, shutting out the Blight, instead feeling only the distant warmth of the sun. She had willingly taken on heavy burdens...but they were worthwhile.

[Cirus]

"We each carry our own difficult burdens, Soldier Cirus. I will do the best that I can with my own."

He looked over at his friend, her eyes closed, he could only imagine what she was thinking about. The early morning light, the chill of the air, for a moment Cirus almost forgot he was standing beside an Aes Sedai. He only saw the young woman, his friend, standing on the wall. Her words ringing in his ears, whatever burdens she carried, they did not seem to weigh so heavily upon her.

“You wear your burdens well Aes Sedai, for you look as if you carry none at all.”

Would that he could carry his own faults so well, he had resolved to do better and yet the captain’s criticism stuck in the back of his mind. Show more initiative. More initiative… he had thought his caution well placed, but the more cautious he was, the more difficult he found it to live up to the expectations that Captain Aravell had placed upon him. Absentmindedly he reached up to touch the spot just below his rib cage where a blade had nearly pierced his heart. It had been hard since then to push himself into dangerous situations, or even push himself with the one power. Yet push he had to, a fist formed over the scar. He would get better…. He MUST get better.

What she said nearly broke him, the same way it had on that day all those years ago. That he had found his way brought her comfort? What could his fate possibly have to do with her? The shock would have been clear on his face, but he wasn't sure he could remove it. What importance could a broken boy from the streets, barely able to light more than a small fire, possibly be in the life of one fated to wear the shawl?

After a moment he let his fist opened and fell away down to his side. Cirus tried to find a way to turn the tide of the conversation. He couldn't show weakness here, not to her. The captain may berate him for such thoughts of weakness, his brothers at the tower may mock him for it, but he would rather they see it in him than let her see it.

"What brings you to the walls this morning Aes Sedai?"

[Elaira Taravin]

“You wear your burdens well Aes Sedai, for you look as if you carry none at all.”

Elaira blinked her eyes open, the smile dropping off her face as she looked over at Cirus. He seemed...serious. His expression didn't flicker at all; there was no sign of laughter in his eyes, no hint of mockery. Elaira couldn't help it, she let out a short, almost harsh, laugh and turned away, a faint blush running up her cheeks. How could anyone watch her stumble along and see strength? Elaira did the best she could, but she wasn't Ishara, or Eshara, or even her own older sister Ilayna. She had no idea what she was doing, most of the time. Even this trip to Alirycas had quickly spiraled into something unrecognizable from the plan she'd concocted safely back in Tar Valon.

In the silence that followed, though, Elaira felt...cheered. Buoyant, even. The near warmth of the early morning suddenly felt very real. To one person, at least, she was what she pretended.

"What brings you to the walls this morning Aes Sedai?"

The question brought her attention back to Cirus himself, and she stepped away from the wall to face him, crossing her arms. She thought for a moment about how best to answer, eyes distant.

"I wished to see more of the city...and there were things I wished to do, today, before involving myself more deeply with the Kin."

Part of Elaira was eager to meet with the Kin, soon, or so Elaira told herself. A small delay before trying to navigate the complexities of that exchange wasn't the worst thing in the world, was it? The hesitance felt like a betrayal of Cirus' confidence in her somehow, and Elaira almost withered under the thought. If only she'd been successful in taking the Dreadlord after the battle, rather than being browbeaten by Terron, perhaps her own confidence might have been buoyed.

She froze, then, eyes focusing sharply as the thought occurred to her. She turned her head back toward the city, in the direction the dreadlords had been taken after the battle. Foolish girl! She could still do something with the dreadlords. Both of them, even! Terron Aravell had given her explicit permission to question his captive until he was taken to the Black Tower, and surely the Kin guarding the woman wouldn't deny an Aes Sedai an opportunity to question her. Something about the raid still felt strange to Elaira. So much of it didn't make sense. There was more to learn, here. She turned her attention to Cirus, the smile spreading like wildfire across her face, a ghostly reflection of a smirk that wouldn't be out of place on Ishara Trakand.

"I think...I think I will be questioning the dreadlords after all, Soldier Cirus. Would you care to accompany me? You'd be welcome to share anything we learn with your Captain, of course."

[Cirus]

"I wished to see more of the city...and there were things I wished to do, today, before involving myself more deeply with the Kin."

The Kin. A strange group for certain, he couldn’t quite figure out what their relationship to the white tower was. Were they rivals? Friends? Subordinates?Perhaps all three rolled into one? It wasn’t his place to think on it, it shouldn’t be his place to think on it at least. The people of Alirycas had been kind to him, even the women who were on the walls the yesterday had treated him with nothing but respect. He could hardly imagine them being resentful of Aes Sedai.

"I think...I think I will be questioning the dreadlords after all, Soldier Cirus. Would you care to accompany me? You'd be welcome to share anything we learn with your Captain, of course."

That request threw him for a loop. Questioning a dreadlord was something well outside his skillset, and frankly he would rather just see the man executed on the walls for his crimes. Given half a chance yesterday, Cirus would have taken it, but Elaira had moved to fast. Still, questioning the man might prove fruitful. In the presence of a soldier and an Aes Sedai his guard might be dropped, he might let something slip he would be careful not to in front of a formal inquiry of full Asha’man.

*All Warfare is based on deception*

A strange quote that came to mind from the old military manuals he liked to read, but one that held true. The Dreadlord would try to twist whatever words he could, and he would lie through his teeth given half a chance. Two sets of ears to interpret and decipher what was being said would be a blessing for when he reported to the captain.

“I...accept your offer Elaria Sedai.”

Cirus could hear the change in his own voice, becoming more guarded as if he was around a stranger once more. It was not intentional, but it was happening. He would hear what this dreadlord had to say, and then he would be certain that the man would end up with his head as a warning to the rest of his kind.

[Elaira Taravin]

Elaira held her breath as she waited, excitement warring with concern. If Cirus refused or shot down the idea, she'd be hard-pressed to do so herself. Having the young man along with her would undoubtedly give Elaira the strength she'd need to see this sudden plan through to completion. Well, I hope so, at any rate.

“I...accept your offer Elaria Sedai.”

Cirus sounded wary, on edge, and though Elaira did not know the reason she couldn't blame him. After all, walking into a room with a dreadlord, willingly, seemed the height of foolishness to her, even if the dreadlord was captive, shielded, and the interrogation was her idea. Her smile sharpened, the resemblance to Ishara's deepening, and Elaira nodded.

"Very good, Soldier Cirus. Let us see what our guests have to say for themselves."

Elaira moved, off the wall, her pace as quick as dignity would allow. She had never mastered the effortless gliding of the Aes Sedai, and the decorum instilled into her as an Andoran noble youth was a poor imitation, but it was all she had.

Finding the guardhouse containing the female dreadlord wasn't difficult. When they were close enough, Elaira was able to sense saidar, undoubtedly a member of the Kin, or several, maintaining the shield on the woman. It was a stocky building, well made as most things were in Alirycas, close to the wall. A pair of uniformed guards stood out front, and they moved to intercept her and Cirus as they approached. A glance at his coat, and a wide-eyed glance at her ring finger, held them in their tracks.

"Thank you, watchmen, but I must have words with the guest you're keeping inside."

She tried to keep her tone brusque and to the point, hardly slowing in her pace. Other Aes Sedai managed to achieve their goals by acting as though everyone around them would jump to obey. Elaira was faintly surprised when that worked with the guards nodding respectfully and one holding open the door as she moved past.

She managed not to voice her surprise, barely.

A small hallway led them to another door, this one with a pair of women outside, surrounded by the glow of saidar. She recognized one of them from the battle on the walls, Varisa. One of the Kin. Elaira slowed her pace and nodded respectfully.

"I've come to question her."

Elaira projected as much confidence as she could. The Kin wouldn't refuse this, she thought. By rights, this woman was the White Tower's responsibility, and she was the only Aes Sedai around. The older woman lifted a cool eyebrow, and the moment stretched, then she nodded.

"Very well. We will be just outside."

She held open the door and Elaira, after a glance over her shoulder at Cirus, entered the room.

The door closed behind the pair, leaving them in a dimly lit room that looked more storeroom than prison. The woman--the dreadlord--was sitting with her back against the wall. She was an older woman, streaks of gray visible through long, dark hair. She had the look of a Tairen, perhaps, and she had seen better days. Dark bags under her eyes told a tale of little sleep, but despite that they glittered with emotion. Anger? Fear? Elaira could not say. As they entered, she looked up and bared her teeth, saying nothing.

Elaira paused, letting the moment stretch, then nodded.

[Cirus]

Cirus fell into step behind Elaira Sedai, following at a respectful pace and his mind whirling with what he had just agreed to. The captain had told him to show more initiative when dealing with the shadow, but sitting in on an interrogation might be a bit much for one of his rank. He was just a soldier, and a weak one at that. There was little he could force from the dreadlords on his own, at least if he was to face them alone.

He banished that line of thinking as they approached the guardhouse. Hesitation would do them no good here, the dreadlords likely had decades if not over a century channeling the one power. Fear would show on his face, and fear is a crack that the dreadlords would pry and chisel at until they had broken through it and reversed the interrogation. He could afford to show no fear here, he had to be as in charge of the situation as he could try to be.

As they approached the guard tower Cirus moved at the same distance behind Elaira as he had before. He didn't break stride as the guards paused, nor did he attempt to even talk with them. Instead he walked in as if he were meant to be there, taking note that the guards didn't attempt to stop either of them as they moved. As they entered the building he expected trouble from the Kin, but neither seemed to take note of him following Elaira Sedai. He wondered about that, but suspected that they didn't wish to bother with a man, well boy, of the Black Tower.

Cirus watched the female dreadlord carefully, her face showed no emotion save defiance. He did not know how powerful she could have been, given how quickly she was captured. He had no way of knowing how powerful she was, but the street ran two ways. She had no way of knowing how weak he was. He would have to make that his edge here, if necessary he would work that angle. For now he simply let Elaira Sedai take the lead on this. He would act as he saw fit, but he would not dare to interfere with what was effectively a matter for the White Tower.

[Elaira Taravin]

The silence stretched out as Elaira watched the woman--the dreadlord--carefully. It was hard for her to reconcile the danger this woman posed with the reality of the captive in front of her. She was old, tired, and worn down. But those eyes, and the battle at the walls proved that would be a dangerous assumption. Elaira hardened her heart as much as she could, keeping her expression smooth, and waited. The woman--the dreadlord--broke first.

"Who are you?"

Elaira watched a moment more. The woman's voice was ragged, perhaps from screams during the battle the day before. There was fear in her eyes, and uncertainty. Elaira crossed her arms and tried to marshal the ice she'd seen from other women in her life. Queen Talana's icy reaction to their escapade in Caemlyn came to mind.

"You're not asking the right question, child."

Elaira felt foolish calling the woman a child; she had at least a pair of decades on Elaira herself, possibly many more considering that she was a channeler of more than minor talent. But Elaira was Aes Sedai, and she needed to embody that role now more than ever. No Aes Sedai Elaira had ever known would have given this woman an inch. In response, the dreadlord's lips tightened into something partway between a smirk and a snarl.

"Oh? What is the right question, child?"

Elaira was silent, eyes intent on the dreadlord for an uncomfortably long moment Elaira hoped it might be intimidating. Really, she was just trying to marshall her thoughts, organize her arguments, plan her attack. This was on the verge of being such a disaster, she forced herself to cross her hands in front of her to prevent herself from toying with her dress or cloak from the nerves. Normally she'd have prepared for any adventure like this, but this had been so...impulsive! She was used to finding herself in situations like this when Ishara was involved, but was not at all familiar with it when the idea was her own.

"Why am I here, and why am I still alive?"

The phrase came out calm, almost bland, to Elaira's surprise. Her mouth didn't stop, either, which surprised her more.

"And the answer, child, is that you're awaiting transport to Tar Valon, to be stilled and executed. That is the fate that awaits all who serve the Dark One."

Elaira's eyes were wide as she spoke, the words came almost unbidden. It had happened before, in situations of high stress at times her words ran away with her, but still...! She glanced back over her shoulder at Cirus, expression shocked, but then she turned back and knelt down until her eyes were level with the other woman's.

"Your actions are an affront to the Light and to everything I love."

Elaira's voice was earnest, the emotion seeping back into it now. And it wasn't anger, not really.

"But I don't want that for you, or for anyone. You can come back. You can renounce the oaths you swore to him. Do so and help me, and I will do what I can to help you as well. You are not so far gone that the Light is lost to you forever."

[Cirus]

Cirus watched in amazement as Elaira talked to the dark friend so cooly. He expected her to attempt some twist of words, maybe minor threats. Yet here she was, cool as river water, talking as if she was addressing a child, cold, matter of fact. He’d heard Asha’man deliver warnings and scoldings with the same tone, and it had always chilled him more than when they shouted. At least when they shouted you could tell what they were thinking, this…. This was almost conniving. He listened eagerly hoping that he might pick up something he could use.

Some kind of noise escaped from Cirus, somewhere between a surprise exhale and a sharp intake of breath. Was Elaira really shifting from that to offering to help her? Cirus was certain he looked like he thought Elaira mad for offering it. He felt some cold air enter through his mouth, he must have let it drop in surprise. This woman was a threat, an enemy. She should have been killed when she was dragged up to the wall, or after the torturers were certain they had gotten anything useful from her. To offer her a chance at redemption? It was madness, those who wanted redemption ran to it with open arms, they didn’t need the chance offered.

He wanted to interrupt, to say something, for a brief minute he considered holding the darkfriends neck in a noose of air to give her a taste of her fate. He even started to reach out, yet as the torrent of fire and ice was just within reach he stopped himself. Control, that was what he needed to focus on. He had to show control, or this darkfriend might try to eat him and Elaira alive.