Waltz with the Shadow

[Dorevar Salloy]

The haze of pipe smoke hung thick in the air, perfumed with that unique mixture of lager and dried sweat that only a tavern could truly brew up. Atop the center table, a gleeman passionately recited The Ballad of Lord Mat the Gambler before an appreciative crowd. A mud-caked wagon driver trudged across the common room toward the counter where the innkeeper was already filling a mug of homebrew for the new customer. Off in a shaded corner, a hooded man watched the wagoner intently; one hand hidden inside his cloak, fiddling nervously with his dagger.

All the while, a third man kept a close but hidden watch on both of them.

After two decades in the trade, Dorevar knew better than to take the corner position; any reasonably paranoid target would have spotted him in an instant. He had instead placed himself at the middle of the wall, far from any obvious shadows and tight corners. A few carefully measured cheers for the gleeman, and he may as well be invisible; like one of the legendary "gray men" from the stories of the time before the Triumph of the Dragon.

Dorevar Salloy of the Black Tower was an unimpressive man in nearly every respect; a short, middle-aged man that few woman would consider especially handsome. Even as an asha'man he was below average in strength of the Power, and despite a furious determination, his short reach meant he would never make an effective swordsman. And yet, when it came to where his true abilities lay, this unremarkability was his greatest asset. Few would have ever suspected that this rather pathetic looking man was in actuality one of the most cunning and dangerous spies in all the world.

And I'm chasing after flaming third-rate darkfriends off in the Andoran hinterlands.

It was to be expected of course. The top ranks of the Dark One's servants among the living had been gutted to a man during Tarmon Gai'don, leaving veritable legions of underlings without any overall command structure. Some had risen up in arms and been predictably crushed. Others had gone to ground and tried to keep out of trouble for as long as possible. Still others had tried to manipulate their little corner of the shadow's spiderweb of agents for personal advancement. Some few had even come forward begging amnesty, though few received it. Even now, over a century after the Last Battle, there were still plenty of rogue cells and bottom-tier upstarts that needed rooting out.

Dorevar's calm gray eyes followed the wagoner as he reached the counter, noting with great care the subtle positioning of his thumb between the second and third fingers. That was the sign; unchanged singe the days of Verin the Brown. The man in the dark cloak got up, walked behind the wagoner, and slipped a small folded parchment into his haversack. Dorevar shook his head. Flaming amateurs can't even coordinate a basic dead-drop.

With the connection confirmed, Dorevar's task was complete. He had already copied the message a few days ago and passed its contents along to his Captain. Any direct action against the darkfriends themselves would have to wait until Queen Talana was consulted. The only thing left to do now was to return to the Black Tower and make the formal report. Dorevar waited for the gleeman to finish his tale and slipped out of the inn without either of his targets noting his presence.

Safely cloaked in the gloom of night, Dorevar slipped into the safety of the trees behind the Inn. There, he finally let his emotions bubble up to the surface. This whole mission was beneath him. A complete waste of his abilities and experience. This task didn't even rise to the level of a refresher in basic principles; it was busywork. At this point, Dorevar could hardly be surprised; The Black Tower had never truly appreciated his talents or his dedication.

Twenty two years in the shadows working tirelessly to confound the enemies of the Black Tower and uncover crucial pearls of insight, and he was still treated like a flaming errand boy for the War Council. He hadn't even been summoned to present his intelligence the M'hael in person. Not even once! The Captains always assured him that it would "be passed along to all pertinent parties." Aye, and with his name conveniently left off the reports too!

Why, if I were in charge...

Just before Dorevar reached the small clearing he had selected for his traveling ground, a portal opened. Dorevar didn't get a chance to look through the gateway before it closed, (you could glean a fair bit of information about someone by where they chose to travel from) but the black coat on the man that stepped through told enough. Dorevar could clearly see the sword and dragon pins on the man's high collar glittering by the light of the full moon.

"Over here." Dorevar called out as he stepped into the clearing. There was no point in keeping his voice down; anyone within earshot would have already seen the light from the gateway.

"Salloy?" the Asha'man said, his head swiveling about in the darkness, "Is that you?"

Dorevar recognized the unsteady voice of Andrek Flinn. The lanky Andoran had been admitted to the Black Tower after Dorevar, raised Asha'man before him, and had just recently been promoted to Lieutenant. At this rate, the awkward little beansprout would probably be a Captain General before the decade was through. "What do you need Flinn?" Dorevar asked, trying to keep the acid off his voice.

"I... I need you to... That is  " Flinn took a moment to collect himself, and delivered his message. "You are summoned to perform a... perform crucial duties for the Black Tower. ... I-immediately. ...and with all haste."

Dorevar nodded along. "Alright, what do we need?"

"It's the M'hael."

A spark of hope and pride flickered to life inside Dorevar. "Finally sent for a personal briefing, did he?"

All the color drained out of Flinn's face. "Actually..."

[Rosyanna Somares]

Rosyanna pulled her brown trousers on, one leg at a time before donning a creamy loose-fitting sweater. Her boots came up over her knees and were only a shade lighter than her trousers. They had a slight heel but were wide enough so that she would have no difficulty walking in the grass. She had never been to the Black Tower, and therefore wanted to be prepared for whatever terrain she found. During Rhalin’s war she had stayed at the White Tower, with most of the Browns, keeping up their defenses. She had met Asha’man in Rhuidean, mostly of the Spirit Legion, and had met more when their delegation had come to the Tower a year before, but she didn’t fool herself into thinking she truly knew or understood these men.

A quick look in the mirror told her that her braid was tight without a gray strand out of place and she nodded to her own face in reassurance. Her brown fringed shawl hung at her elbows and she used thin weaves of air to tie it in place so that she would not have to hold it on her body.

Her case had been packed the night before, and she left with it in hand to the traveling grounds. The Mistress of Novices was there to see her off. She wondered if the woman knew her sister was Black Ajah. Avyanna Sedai had eyes that seemed to see everything, but were they clouded by familial blood? The woman never spoke of her family, not that many at the Tower did, but she was Seanchan and that probably didn’t bode well for their relationships. It was possible that she was so happy to have a sister that she didn’t look at said sister too closely.

“Be diligent Sister, leave no stoned unturned. We must make sure this is a safe place to be sending our acolytes.”

“Of course, Avyanna Sedai.”

She curtseyed and took a breath as the gateway opened in front of her, waiting to exhale until after she had stepped through it. Not being able to create a gateway herself, they always made her slightly nervous to go through. She preferred to be in control of the reality making up her vicinity. The Tower had decided skimming there would have been a show of weakness though, so she followed orders like a good girl. Just thinking that made her grind her teeth and she quickly unclenched her jaw to rework her face into the cool aloofness that befit her station.

She spared not a single glance to the men on either side of the gateway as it closed behind her, and instead locked eyes on the man in front of her. He was shorter than her, which she quite liked, with gray eyes and brown hair.

She did not curtsey to him, but graced him with a slight nod, which was as much stroking her ego would allow her to do his. She approached him and held out her free hand in greeting.

“Rosyanna Sedai, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Her eyes itched to scan her surroundings, but she would not let them. She wished to appear completely unaffected and knew she would get her view of the Black Tower soon enough. They were somewhere outside of it’s grounds, but close by.

Outfit inspo

[Dorevar Salloy]

The first thing Dorevar noticed about Rosyanna Somares was that she was taller than him. That was good; taller aes sedai were easier to manage. The shorter ones tended towards combativeness, but a taller sister was generally more confident in her self-superiority; and thus less likely to notice when she was being led by the nose like a trained mule. As he took in her outfit, he noticed the tight, highly flattering cut of her trousers. And the subtly raised heels on her boots; had she consciously chosen them to make herself seem taller? Not a bad thing of course, vanity was always a useful point of control.

Dorevar also noted that she wasn't holding the Power. A curious thing that. Perhaps she considered certain weaves beneath her dignity; she had recently been a sitter for the Brown after all. No, there was something more to it. Aes sedai usually jumped at the slightest opportunity to demonstrate their strength in the Power, which was after all the chief criterion in the social sorting algorithm of the White Tower. So why let another woman show off by weaving the gateway for her?

Because she can't make one herself.

Now that was an interesting thought...

Dorevar made a respectful bow. "Dorevar Salloy, Air Legion of the Black Tower. Likewise a pleasure, I'm sure. I assume they have briefed you on the part we are to play in this coming investigation?"

"More or less," Rosyanna replied.

"In that case," Dorevar continued in a thoroughly bureaucratic tone, "May I reiterate that your role in this investigation is that of an auxiliary consultant. You are to offer your expert knowledge opinion when it is solicited of you."

"I understand," Rosyanna nodded. Dorevar knew better than to take her unflappable demeanor at face value. This woman could be utterly livid about being reduced to a political prop, or spectacularly relieved at having so little actual responsibility, or anywhere in between. "Incidentally, might I inquire as to your part in this affair?"

"The same as yours; an auxiliary consultant."

"I see."

As the conversation ran its course, the rest of Dorevar's mind poured over the evidence of his eyes and ears. How had a woman without the strength to weave a gateway risen all the way to sitter? And not only her lack of strength in the Power; Dorevar had looked Rosyanna up in those White Tower Records that the Black Tower officially didn't have; Rosyanna had at one point been put out of the Tower, and the stain of that would have likely dogged her career after returning.

Bribery was hardly a solution, sisters rarely took interest in money or possessions. No, the currency of the White Tower was and had always been power; power over other people. Blackmail could explain it, but the amount of people one needed to blackmail in order to rise through the ranks was a bit much for one person to handle unaided...

She could be a darkfriend.

It would explain almost everything. The writings of Verin the Brown told of the intricacy of the Black Ajah's network during the Third Age, and if there was any sense among the top echelons of the Dark One's servants, then rebuilding that particular branch of their operations would be their top priority. Was this Rosyanna one of them? A woman with lofty ambitions, but insufficient power to achieve them on her own would make for an ideal candidate for recruitment into the flock of the Shepherd of the Night.

Of course, there was a simple way to find out for certain.

"Well then," Dorevar shrugged, "No sense in delaying any longer. Follow me please." And with that, he turned on his heel and marched out of the traveling ground. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, and with one hand, he held his thumb between his second and third fingers. The signal would be impossible to miss.

[Rosyanna Somares]

Rosyanna kept her answers non committal and short. She was disappointed, but not surprised that he spoke to her in the same manner. They would both be holding their cards close to the vest for the time being. She wondered if the man in black played cards, or was prone to drink. There had been surprisingly little information to be found about him prior to her visit. He wasn't looking at her attire in an openly appreciative way, which both pleased her and frustrated her. A man who found her attractive was always the easiest to control. However, she had many avenues up her sleeve for developing a rapport with others. It would be nice if he enjoyed cards. She hadn't played in years but had made many friends and enemies over the course of the night in her younger days that way. It would be preferable to using her appearance, but if the two could be used congruently, well, that always seemed to do the trick the quickest.

She raised an eyebrow when he neither offered to take her case, nor ordered one of the younger men with fewer pins on his collar to take it for her. It seemed that he was not the chivalrous type. To lead her away from the traveling grounds, he turned quickly and walked with a request that sounded more like an expectation that she should follow. Even with her longer stride it took her a moment to catch up so that she was walking beside him rather than following him.

In that brief interlude she only barely managed to keep her eyebrows from raising again. His hand behind his back...she hadn't been expecting that. She hadn't expected it at all, and she did think it would have been mentioned. This line of the investigation had little hope if both parties working from within the Tower served the shadow. She didn't really think there was much to be found from inside the Tower anyway however.

His bland cadence didn't make it seem like he was particularly eager about his role in this either. He was older, not a fresh face looking to prove himself, so it was possible he was given a part to play just to pacify his ego, and the assignment was less meaningful because they feared his ineptitude or laziness. Or possibly that was all wishful thinking on her part. Perhaps he was simply doing his duty as a cog in a well oiled machine and happy with that responsibility like a good little soldier. In any case, she certainly wasn't going to acknowledge a sign from him since it could very well be a trap. Instead, she noted the gesture and would report it back to her superior. She would report it to Zamira first, and then depending on her orders, pass it along to her official superiors as well.

Matching his slightly shorter stride so that she was neither following nor trying to lead, she focused on their destination. She could see the large, sharply edged, black structure towering beyond thick black walls and her lips twitched briefly in a slight sneer. Thoughts of what they must be compensating for flitted through her mind before she pushed them out to concentrate on what was important.

She could see numerous lookout towers with sentries posted along the wall. Was everything made with cuendillar? She had heard it was, but hadn't fully believed it until now. The area surrounded by the wall was too large to make it possible to see the entire wall itself, but based on her geographical knowledge of the area, she was able to calculate that there were at least ten to twenty of the lookout towers.

"I have never been to Caralain."

She volunteered that information, easily, as it could easily already be known to him.

"I would appreciate a full tour of the Tower grounds, though I assume you will be showing me my rooms first. I would like to drop off my things. I have also been assigned with the task of inspecting the quarters intended for the Accepted and Dedicated exchange program. I will be remaining to oversee the students."

She unconsciously stroked the brown fringe of her shawl.

"I have spent most of my time at the White Tower researching and teaching and am looking forward to continuing that habit here."

There was no need to inform him of her political forays. Finding out that she had served as a Sitter was of course within his power, if he researched her at all he probably already knew that much, but Ajah Heads were a secret to all outside their Ajah. Besides, Brown Sisters were rarely celebrated for political maneuvering even in the Hall. No matter how long she served, or how young she was raised, being of the brown meant that most considered her to have her nose stuck in a book more often than in the business of others.

As they finally approached a large gate she tried to discern which entrance they were at. She believed it must be the South Entrance, by the position of the sun in the sky as well as Dragon Mount to their right.