A Tar Valon Tavern Crawl

Part Two: The Old Manor

So this was how the group elected to come to the old abandoned manor on Silver Street. Damon injured from the Grey Man's attack, weak and hungry from his Healing by Danienda, Astara's concern about the Wolfbrother's health, and Elaryn knowing where to find a place to rest. Meanwhile, the Darkfriends are gathering for another attack on Faneek and Jakram. Little do the group realise that Faneek is about to literally lose her mind, and try to kill the person closest to her. The evening's events also include the reformation of the Darkfriend thief catcher Rashim, Elaryn facing some of the horrors from her past and a new beginning for both her and Sinak...

Faneek followed Elaryn through the half-deserted Tar Valon streets. It was dark out and all of the people with right minds would be inside by now. There was an eerie feeling to the night. Something is definitely wrong. The Ghealdanin felt a shiver run up her spine. Something was wrong here, but what it could be was what scared Faneek the most. Not knowing what would jump out of the shadows was much scarier than just thinking that something will jump out.

The windows seemed to take on a life of their own. Shadows seemed to move and shift in different directions. People seemed to be staring at them as they walked past. Flashes of light looked like daggers in the night seeking a heart to feed upon. Once Faneek thought she saw a black cloak disappear around a corner. She felt her blood turn cold with fear. Her fingers were like ice and there was no way to make them warm again. Her feet dragged as if embedded in cement. What if we can't get away in time? What will happen if we don't see the dagger before it's to late? Who will die just to save the others?!

Quit it woman! Your paranoid far to often! Thing logically like the White you will someday be and you won't have to worry about daggers or Darkfriends, you will be smart enough to spot them first. Faneek grimaced at her own thoughts. They hardly comforted her at all. What she needed to concentrate on was helping get Damon to the old house. But her thoughts would not stay in one place. They strayed this way and that. Darkfriends... Black Sisters... hidden eyes...The words reverberated in her imagination like sounds echoing down an empty tunnel.

Elaryn felt some trepidation as she led her friends through the streets of Tar Valon, towards the abandoned manor house on the corner of Silver Street. What in the Light was she doing, going back to that cursed place?

It's the only place we have to go seeing as Damon needs somewhere quiet to recover from that stab wound, she thought. Damon had almost died from the Grey Man's knife and Danienda had Healed him. Damon followed on Astara's arm, his feet dragging in spite of the stubborn expression on his face. Jakram and Sinak were dragging along an unconscious Darkfriend, who had been hired to kill the Cairhienin Manshima. Faneek, Aeron and Danienda were also there, Faneek giving the Darkfriend fierce looks every so often.

What had started out as an evening's merry drinking had turned into a mystery. A dangerous mystery. Light, as if you don't have your own secrets, the Accepted thought.

Elaryn carried a hamper full of food on one arm. The innkeeper at the pub where Damon had been stabbed had practically given the food away. There was half a chicken, three loaves of bread, cheese, pickles, fruit, apple tart and, best of all, an enormous bottle of Amadician brandy and some shot glasses. Elaryn was going to need some of that once she and her friends were sitting down again.

Her heart missed a beat when she saw the bulk of the old manor in front of her. "This way," she said to her friends before leading them through an overgrown vegetable garden to the back door. Channelling a globe of blue light, Elaryn walked down the steps to the kitchen door, which swung open at her touch. Through the kitchen, past the cellar stairs - no, not down there! - and into the hall she strode, her eyes flicking from side to side.

Upstairs. We'll try upstairs. Elaryn led the way up to the first floor and selected a door on the left. The door opened into a huge room with a fireplace, a moth-eaten rug and a horsehair couch that had seen better days.
"This will do," she said in a low voice. "Damon, you take the chair. Then we can work out what to do with this Darkfriend assassin of Jakram's."

Jakram and Sinak sat the Darkfriend in the middle of the room so everyone could keep a close eye on him. Faneek walked past the group and to a window in the corner of the room. She had vaguely heard Elaryn say something about chairs and deciding what to do with the Darkfriend. Faneek didn't want to look at the sorry excuse for a person more than she had to. She stayed in a corner area as to not be seen through the window, but so she could have a good view out of it. She would alert them if she saw anything funny.

Shadows moved and windows sprang to life once more. Faneek had quite an avid imagination on a night like this. Who wouldn't?...

After putting Rashim into the middle of the room, Jakram took a seat in one of the old chairs scattered about the room and faced him. "Old" was definitely the word to describe this mansion. It was run-down and it looked as if no one had been living in it for years. Elaryn seemed to not like this place very much, and Jakram could see why. It had a feel of... wrongness about it. Faneek seemed like she was nervous, and Jakram didn't blame her. I'm still a little bit shaken after finding out that a Darkfriend Lord wants me dead. And she may even have other things to worry about too. On looking at the Darkfriend again, Jakram's face went hard as stone. The questioning would now resume.

"Can you tell me anything else about Lord Daerion that I would like to know?" he asked Rashim.

Looking around at all of the people seated around him, all of them looking at him as they would a piece of filth, Rashim replied. "Lord Daerion has disliked you ever since you ruined his so carefully planned assassination. It would have helped him greatly in the Great Game. Instead, you exposed him and his House, House Kylin, fell somewhat in power. He didn't want you dead, though, until the Foretelling came from the Black sister that you would absolutely ruin his House."

Something the Darkfriend said caught Astara's ears. She had heaved Damon's form onto the threadbare couch and sighed as she had tried to make him as comfortable as possible. Although determined not to show it, supporting his large form through the dark streets of Tar Valon had tired her more than she wanted to admit. She was stronger that her delicate frame suggested, but not that strong.

Astara jerked her head up, toward the centre of the room. "Dead?" she demanded, her voice quivering slightly. "Jakram, who would want you dead so badly they would send a Grey Woman to do what any paid assassin could do? No actually, more importantly who would be high enough in the Darkfriend chain of command to be able to use a Grey Woman for a personal problem? It doesn't make any sense."

Danienda had taken a seat and was listening to what was going on, because at this point, he was utterly confused by the chain of events that had just occurred. He decided to stay back from Jakram, since his interrogation was going well, the Darkfriend seemed to be frightened halfway to death. I wonder what else we have to worry about if this lord had grey men and Aes Sedai under his control...

Shaking his head and looking at his hands, Sinak rose to his feet and silently left the room. Having helped drag the prisoner along, Sinak felt as if he had been touched by something filthy, very unclean. After depositing the Gleeman disguised conspirator in the centre of a room where all could keep an eye on him, he began to look about for a place to clean himself and was glad to find that the pump in the kitchen was able to work after just only a few minutes of trying. Unusually quick-working considering how abandoned and dust filled the entry way had seemed. Everything here seems as if no-one has used the house in years, yet the pump works immediately? Strange... He finished washing, and as the others are still settling in, he took the precaution of briefly looking around, taking a look into this room and that. Nothing is out of place that he can detect, but somehow he felt uneasy.

He went back to the main room where Jakram has his interrogation underway. His companions seem edgy, and even Elaryn, who had first suggested this house as a place to go, now looked as if she had second thoughts. Why had she chosen this place? "Everything all right here? I just did a quick check of the rest of the house, and other than almost having my candle blown out a few times, nothing seems to be out of place." Except for that matter of the pump...

Once everybody had settled themselves around the prisoner, and Sinak had left the room, Elaryn had begun to parcel out the food she had bought from the innkeeper. Damon got all the chicken, one loaf to himself, plus a large amount of the fruit and the pickles. Saying nothing, the Accepted passed around the food wrapped in napkins, then measured out the brandy. She was liberal with that - this house still frightened her. What am I doing back here?

Faneek was still standing by the window, looking out onto the street. She looked almost as frightened as Elaryn felt. Suddenly, a flare of anger ran through her. What was this 'gleeman' doing, working for a man - a Darkfriend! - who would threaten to kill two of her friends? Keeping her face smooth, Elaryn stood and took Faneek's parcel of food and brandy over to her. The other Accepted took it with whispered thanks and Elaryn turned her attention back to the others.

When Astara asked why anyone would want Jakram to die, Elaryn felt another burst of anger; who knew why Darkfriends did anything, other than to hurt and to drag the world down under the Shadow? Jakram was obviously a threat to this Lord Daerion's House - more than reason enough.

Elaryn sat down on a chair and put the basket on her knee. She had left one apple and a paring knife inside. From Jakram's silence, it seemed he either did not know why Daerion would want to kill him, or was afraid of telling the tale. Elaryn couldn't blame him.

"Perhaps this man can tell us why Jakram's life has been threatened himself," Elaryn said in a cold voice as she very slowly and deliberately began to peel the apple. She crossed one leg over the other as she worked, paring the skin away from the fruit's flesh with cool efficiency. As she spoke, she emphasised her native Amadician accent, biting off her words so the man had no doubt about where she was from. "And perhaps add a little more about what his lord's plans are and if there are others of his band in the city. I do not think this man would want to try our patience too much." she said with a raised eyebrow as she twisted the knife so the last of the skin fell off the apple and onto the floor by her feet.

Then she addressed the prisoner directly. "I don't like Darkfriends. You could say it runs in my family." She channelled, wove Illusion, and a white cloak with a flaring golden sun on the breast settled around her shoulders for a couple of seconds. As Elaryn let the Illusion vanish, she twisted the knife so that the apple was neatly cored.

"Well?" she snapped at the prisoner.

Watching Rashim twist and wriggle nervously was almost pleasurable to Jakram. The Light-forsaken vermin deserves much worse than what he's getting! Thinking about Elaryn's questions to the man, he decided that telling the story himself would help him to believe in its reality more. Part of a Foretelling! Light, but it still doesn't seem possible.

Forestalling Rashim as he was about to respond to Elaryn's questions, Jakram said, "Rashim has already told me most of the story, and I'll tell it to you myself. I'll add my side of the story. When I moved to Cairhien and became a bodyguard to House Damodred, I stopped an assassination attempt by Lord Daerion against the head of House Damodred. I imagine his original hatred for me came from there. I left Cairhien shortly afterwards and came to the White Tower. I forgot all about House Kylin, Lord Daerion, and everything I had hated about Cairhien." Jakram paused, and heaved a heavy sigh at having to remember those times when he was involved in the Great Game.

"Faneek and I went on an excursion out of the Tower not too long ago with another Manshima, Nephi. We were attacked by seven of Daerion's cronies. No Shadowspawn in this attack, but we were severely outnumbered. At first we thought that it was only some street toughs who wanted to rob us, but we managed to question one of them after we had taken care of the others. He told us that their intention all along had been to kill us, and that Daerion had sent them. Rashim here was one of the toughs in that group, that's how I recognized him. Faneek threatened the survivors and told them that if they wanted to kill me, they'd have to kill her too." Jakram flashed a smile in her direction, remembering the short Ghealadanin practically yelling at the toughs. "I thought nothing else would happen and that this was just a simple attempt for revenge. Light, was I wrong.

"All of you saw the attack at the tavern, and I had a chance to talk with Rashim here while Damon was being attacked. He told me that he and Lord Daerion are both Darkfriends and that Daerion wants both me and Faneek dead. After a little... persuasion... he told me that I am part of Foretelling by a Black Ajah advisor to Lord Daerion. It seems I am destined to ruin Daerion's House and also to be two thorns to the Dark. Therefore Daerion wants me dead and so do higher Darkfriends than Daerion."

Danienda had watched the Darkfriend becoming more and more nervous as everyone in the room seemed to be radiating hate towards the prisoner. It seemed amazing that he hadn't passed out yet. Danienda had gratefully accepted the food, and picked at it while watching the proceedings. He had nearly coughed up part of his food when he saw the white cloak and the sunburst. It's been a while since I saw one of those. Fortunately, he hadn't made too loud of a sound, so he managed to hear the whole of Jakram's explanation.

Danienda was fairly shocked to say the least, while his anger towards the Darkfriend in front of them and this lord growing with each word he heard. "This lord sounds incredibly vengeful. If he wants Faneek dead for interfering in his earlier plot to kill you, he would probably do the same for everyone here who got in the way of this attempt right? So, it would be a good idea to find out any other possible plans or other Darkfriends from Rashim, right," Danienda said.

Glaring at the gleeman, the Dedicated decided to add to the man's fear. Danienda channelled to create a small figure of a man out of ice, then made it melt and boil, leaving nothing behind.

"No," Astara said softly. "Assuming the only Darkfriends sent were these three, Daerion would have no way of knowing the rest of us are involved. Unless we decide not to kill this one."

Slate blue eyes flashing in the soft candlelight she turned slowly to face the snivelling Darkfriend in the floor. Wrinkling her nose, she pressed her lips together, her face the very image of disgust. "Well rat? Who else was sent? Who else knows about us?"

Damon had only half listened as he devoured the food set in front of him. I was soooo hungry... After the chicken, bread, fruit, and pickles, he felt decently full, so he tuned the conversation back in. Unfortunately, he just caught the tail end of the conversation, including Elaryn's excellent interrogation skills. Rising, he stepped over to the Darkfriend, who looked at him strangely, considering that Damon had not said anything to this point. After looking into the Darkfriends eyes for a moment, Damon stood. "Well, perhaps we've got all we can from this one." He twirled the dagger in his hand. "Shall we just kill him now, or torture him a bit first? "

Rashim looked scared, baffled, frazzled, and intimidated by all the people threatening, demanding, and questioning him. "No one else was sent to kill Al'Tamm or the Shaibask girl," the Darkfriend said. "There were the two Grey Men and myself." He trembled as he spoke, fear coursing through his veins and clearly painted on his face.

Two Grey Men, Jakram thought. The second one got Damon, since he had two swords just like I had. Apparently the Grey Men aren't too bright.

"There's still another Grey Man out there, but I don't think he's coming back for another attack," Jakram said. "He thought Damon was me, because we both wear our two swords in a similar style." Looking at Damon, Jakram noticed that the only difference was that Damon's were marked with a heron. "I bet he thought Damon was a goner too, and he would have been if it wasn't for all of us." Maybe Daerion will even leave me alone, thinking that I'm dead because the Grey Man made a mistake. Maybe. "We can't trust this scum here, so we need to make sure no one is coming to attack us." Seeing Faneek still watching for an attack through the window, and others watching everywhere out of habit, he had no worries about it. "Does anyone else have any questions for this scum?"

Astara shook her head. "As long as I know I'm not down in that mad man's list," she said softly. Her face was expressionless as she looked at the Darkfriend in the floor. Not quite Aes Sedai calm, more like acceptance of what was to come next.

Looking up at Jakram, she noticed the look in his eyes and wondered if he was thinking along the same lines as she was. A dead Darkfriend passes on no information, and if Jakram was not prepared to do it, she would. Not for any other reason but to protect the lives of people she cared about. She may have only known most of these people for a few hours, but they already felt like life long friends, and of course Damon was something else altogether.

Watching Rashim, Damon sighed, faking disappointment. It was always better to look hard to your enemies. Slipping the dagger back under his cloak, he returned to the couch and pondered the Darkfriend's words.

Astara watched the Wolfbrother move around the room and noted with relief that he seemed to be in perfect health. A little pale perhaps but it was to be expected. Climbing to her feet, Astara brushed the dust of her dark blue silk skirts and walked across the threadbare carpets, towards Faneek and her window. Staying out of sight, she glanced out over the moonlit city.

Faneek had listened to the things that were being talked about, but they hadn't seemed to get to her brain and register. She was caught up in her own thoughts. Thoughts of how she had got herself into this mess with Jakram and how to get out of it. She would stand by the Manshima at all costs, but what would it take to stop this Darkfriend--or Darkfriends--from hurting him. She stared into space at the street below the house, her world was her thoughts.

"What are you expecting to see, Faneek?" Astara asked softly.

The Ghealdanin Accepted jumped as Astara walked up next to her. She sighed and turned back to the window, adjusting her skirt a little.

"I'm not sure if I will see anything. My imagination likes to take flight on a night like this, though. Maybe I should just go and sit down with you guys." Faneek took one last look at the buildings along the street. Suddenly, there was movement in a window of a large three story building that was on the street corner across from them. Faneek barely recognized that it looked like a man before something shiny flashed in front of him. The man seemed to be holding some sort of shining object, not a knife or anything like that, but shiny like metal.

Faneek felt herself freeze in place. All thought was gone. The man seemed to be the only thing that existed to her. She could hear him speak in her mind. He had taken over her thoughts. Do not give me away. Go and sit down on the couch. I will tell you when you shall do my bidding. Act normally until I tell you otherwise. You are mine now. I control you. Faneek gave a small nod to say she accepted and then turned back to Astara. "Yes, I will go and sit on the couch with you."

The two Accepted walked over to the couch and sat down. Faneek moved as normally as possible. It was hard to know what to do without her Master telling her so. She quietly ate the bread that she had been given before and stared at Jakram. Somehow he seemed to spark some sort of thought in her head. She had feelings towards him, but they seemed to be suppressed and hidden away in the back of her head. Her Master had not said that feelings existed between herself and the Manshima. They do not exist if my Master does not say they do. Faneek's eyes were slate stone towards all in the room. She had no feelings for any of them. She knew only their names, nothing else. Act normally... Act normally. Faneek ate her bread and stared at the man on the floor in the middle of the room. Her green eyes were emotionless, while the voice that was really her screamed in the back of her head, heard by no one.

Jakram looked away, from Rashim, sighing as he did so. He looked over as Faneek came to sit with the rest of the group, but something seemed wrong with her. Damon seemed to notice it too as he whispered something to Astara and she responded. He looked at Faneek again and she looked right at him too. She seemed so devoid of life, so wooden. He had never seen her act this way before, even when they were in that strange city with Sidani. There was no smile, no blush, no... anything as she looked at him. Something is definitely wrong here. I've never seen her act this way before. Maybe it's been the stress of this night.But Jakram doubted it, and his instincts told him otherwise.

Trying to shake off the feeling, Jakram turned his mind back to what they needed to do with the Darkfriend. Faneek's strangeness was still on his mind, though. It doesn't seem natural. I'll have to keep my eye out for her. He couldn't get it out of his mind, and he kept glancing at Faneek, who still seemed unnatural, sitting there staring at nothing.

The Darkfriend seems very interested by Faneek for some reason, Damon thought as she and Astara settled themselves. Suddenly, Faneek straightened rigidly; her eyes were transfixed on the Darkfriend. Damon frowned. That's odd. Why is she staring at him li As Faneek took a seat on the couch, he shot a worried look at Astara, then looked at Faneek. "Is she all right?" he asked.

Frowning in confusion, Astara looked across at Faneek's oddly rigid face. Was it something she had said? She's probably just tired and worn out,' she thought. 'Light it's been a big night for all of us.

Eyes still on Faneek, Astara nodded slowly. "I think so. It might just be shock. I'm feeling a little weird myself. It's just been one of those nights," she said softly, leaning her head against his shoulder.

To Elaryn, Faneek looked very glassy-eyed. The Accepted supposed that was the shock of being wanted dead by a Darkfriend. She had already finished her brandy, so Elaryn carried the bottle over to her friend and poured her a generous measure. "Drink this, it will make you feel a little better," she said. "If you think you need extra strength or Healing, just ask."

Faneek took the shot of brandy from Elaryn and swallowed it down whole. She tried to act as normally as possible, but everyone seemed to be staring at her strangely. The Ghealdanin glanced towards Astara and Damon. The Shienaran Accepted leaned on his shoulder, expecting comfort of some sort. If I want to act normally, I must do as the normal ones do. That spark in the back of my head for Jakram, maybe that had been loving feelings. Faneek ran the thought across to her Master. Yes, good. Make sure to put feeling into the action.

Faneek stood on her Master's command and went to stand next to Jakram. She placed her arms around his waist, hoping that this was not alarming to him. She glanced up at him, her eyes taking on almost a fake look of fondness. He gave her a small smile back. Ask him about what everyone else is talking about...

"What do you suggest we do with him, Jakram?" she said.

The Darkfriend was still cowering on the floor. "I agree with Astara about ending this here so nobody will know," Elaryn said in a hard voice. "But who will finish him? I would feel better if I had some painless poison we could slip him, but we don't."

Though Astara's insides were crawling at the idea that suddenly came into her head, she smiled coldly at the Darkfriend. Like all Borderlanders, she had no love for Darkfriends, but she still didn't think she could actually kill one in cold blood. In self defence she had not problems, but that was a case of kill or be killed and this was a very different situation. However, the Darkfriend didn't know this and Astara could be a very good actress when she tried.

"Why painless poison Elaryn? Did his friend use painless poison when he tried to kill Damon? Was he planning to murder Faneek and Jakram with painless poison? I don't think so."

Standing slowly, she reached for her cloak and withdrew a sharp dagger from the folds, running her fingertip along the blade. Several drops of red blood coated the blade. Astara glanced at her fingers then looked meaningfully at the cowering Darkfriend. "Just slit his throat," she said, her soft words echoing in the silent room. "He doesn't deserve a painless death."

Up until now, Sinak had been quietly observing, thinking, putting the pieces together. Like his Squad's - the Tai Tav'ron - counterparts in the White Ajah, he attempted to use logic to sift through the facts in an attempt to clarify and analyse the situation. But somehow, the pieces do not all fit together! Some factor is still missing.

But first things first. The matter of the Rashim! Letting him go was out of the question, others would come back to where the last group of assassins failed. To kill him then? Other than the problem of where to leave the body, there was a moral issue, one he had to share with his friends before they made a mistake. He rose from where he has been sitting, and cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention.

"I agree that if we have wrung from this filth every scrap of information we need, we must dispose of him," Sinak said. "But how? Shall we kill him, and become just as they, dropping ourselves to the level of him and his cohorts? In war, against an enemy whose weapon threatens my life or that of my friends, yes I will kill not becasue it pleases me, but becasue I have no other choice. Here, against an unarmed man, a pathetic wretch crawling on the floor, quivering with fear that the death he had help plan for others so unfeelingly is now to be visited on him. I cannot do it. There is no honour in it.

"I want to find a different solution, one that can turn things to our advantage. One thing I know would be useful would be the ability to Mind Delve, but the only person I know that has that Talent is an Asha'man whose whereabouts I do not know. Can we, between the skills we have here put somethng together that would say erase this man's memory, not only for this night, but back to the time before he first joined the side of the dark and evil. And replace it instead with the memories of one who is dressed as he is, a gleeman.

"Or an even more ambitious challenge, could we somehow turn his mind so that instead of being an agent for his current master, we could reverse the situation. You, Jakram, would he not be of more use if he were to become your knife at Lord Daerion's throat?

"If you agree, how do we proceed? Do we have the ability to carry it off, either by any one of here or by several in combination? There must be those in the Tower that can help, but to be honest, I would prefer to keep this among ourselves!"

Jakram barely realised that Sinak was speaking at first - his mind was elsewhere. Once Faneek had quickly downed the glass of brandy, Jakram knew that there was something absolutely wrong with her. She never drinks anything intoxicating. Why did she just down that glass of brandy like a Borderlander scout then?

And when Faneek had stood up and walked over to Jakram and put her arms around his waist, Jakram almost shuddered at her touch. It felt so... unnatural, like someone was forcing Faneek to do what she was doing. When she looked up into his face, Jakram had given a little smile so no one would see how distressed he was. Her face looked like it's a doll's face! Perhaps it's just me. Maybe I'm just imagining things. But it just doesn't feel right! He had looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but he couldn't see anyone else eyeing Faneek strangely.

It was then that he realised Sinak had just asked him a question. Jakram distractedly replied, "Oh, yes that would help." But how could he help Faneek?

Danienda spoke up. "That's a pretty good idea, but does anybody have the slightest idea how. Because if nobody knows how, we would be just a likely to destroy his mind. If we're going to try it, then I think we should try turning him against Lord Daerion. I think that we would have to use some sort of altered Delving weave. I think we should try it. That way even if we fail, he won't be a threat to us," he said, completely oblivious to anything else that was going wrong.

Nodding, Astara placed the knife back on her cloak and walked toward Danienda. "I suppose that's as good an idea as any," she said, eyeing the Darkfriend. "I've got little skill in Healing, I'd probably kill him at first touch, but I can hold him still while you or Elaryn do it."

But Elaryn was horrified. Not only were her friends suggesting that they fiddle about with a man's mind, altering his will, they were suggesting that SHE do it! This is too like Compulsion. In fact, it bloody well is!

"Do you know what you are suggesting?" she said. "Erasing his memory for this evening is possible, but to turn his mind against his will is something else again. That would be evil - even though he is a Darkfriend, we would be depriving him of his free will. He made his choice, to serve the Dark One, therefore my feelings are that he should bear the consequences of that choice."

She sighed, and rubbed at her forehead. "Are you suggesting that I use Compulsion on this man? I can erase his memory, for tonight at least, but I will do no more. And as for how far back I can do that, it depends on how long he has been a Darkfriend."

Damon gave a start at the mention of using Compulsion. Should I tell them...? Damon nodded; now was as good a time as any. Slowly, he rose.

"Uh, I... can use Compulsion." At the strange looks he got from his friends, and a few incredulous ones from Astara and Elaryn, he hurried on. "A long time ago, I helped a friend named Rhellin defeat a horrible beast. Afterwards, as a sign of our friendship, he gave me this dagger." He produced the dagger from out of his cloak; it shimmered and sparkled with rubies and moonstones, gold and silver.

"He also gave me the powers of Illusion and Compulsion. If you're wondering how he did it, I have figured out roughly how. He transferred exactly half of his powers of Illusion and Compulsion to me, keeping the other half, and even though I cannot touch the True Source, I am 'linked' to it through Rhellin. If Rhellin dies, so does the link, and my powers are gone. So I am not 'touching' the Source, per say, just utilising it's potential. And since Rhellin is trapped in a World That Might Be, I don't know how long I'll have these powers. And that," he finished, "as they say, is that." Damon sat back down. It was hard to believe, he knew. But, as he watched Sinak walk over to the centre of the room, he hoped his friends would believe him.

Sinak looked at Faneek and Jakram. While the Accepted seems to act somewhat peculiar, drinking more than she should, it is of no great concern. The stress of earlier events readily explain her behaviour. Jakram, though, is another matter. Of course, he would be concerned about Faneek, he does seem to have an affinity for her. But there is something else, almost as if the man has a feeling of some foreboding, which causes him to lose interest in things about him.

Focusing his attention on the other four, he addressed the concerns raised by Elaryn. "I would not want you to act against your own conscience," he told her. "But I ask that you consider this - the man is a Darkfriend, and his soul lost to the Dark One. He no longer has any free will. I put it to you that by reversing that, you might be helping him regain his free will. As to compulsion, we have all been taught that the use of compulsion is a dangerous one that is most often used for evil purposes. But compulsion is only a tool, and if we can use it to stop something evil and perhaps achieve something good, should we not do so? Even if you do not agree with my reasoning, consider this - our only alternative is to kill him. If you feel both are evil, then which is the lesser of the two evils?

"Perhaps if Astara, Danienda and I work together to hold him perfectly still, Elaryn if she is willing can erase what memories he has to the best of her ability, while you, Damon, use the dagger to replace those memories to bring out the good that may still be within him somewhere. And if you can, turn him to work for us instead of the other side."

Nodding slowly in agreement with Sinak's plan, Astara's mind was racing. Damon's statement had left her speechless and made her wonder what other secrets he had. Glancing at him out of the corner of her eye she tried to avoid looking at the dagger.

Get a hold of yourself girl, she thought. It's not that important. But she was having a little trouble convincing herself.

Elaryn was silent for a long time. This was rapidly becoming one of the strangest evenings of her life; Grey Women, Darkfriends, a Foretelling about Jakram, coming back to this cursed manor, Faneek downing brandy like it was water, Damon's strange gift... The thought of using Compulsion on anyone, even for a good purpose, made her flesh crawl. She had never explored what Talent she might have for Compulsion because she had never wanted to, although it followed from her strength in Spirit and skill in Healing that she should be reasonably competent at it.

The lesser of two evils... What was life but a choice between evil and evil sometimes? But if Damon was willing to do it, and if this Rashim did eventually find the Light again, then who was she to stand in the way?

Finally, she nodded. "All right, I will do what I can with his memory," she said to Sinak. Odd that - a problem she could not have morally solved on her own had become resolvable in the hands of seven very different people all working together.

Then she turned her attention to the Darkfriend cowering on the floor. "You do realise that you are getting a second chance, don't you? Not many people in your position do get to start again." She sighed and wiped her hands on her skirts. "All right, Astara, Danienda, Sinak; sit on him while I try to wipe his memory."

Meanwhile, Jakram hardly even noticed what was going on around him. The only thing on his mind at that moment was Faneek. She was still holding him around the waist, which was something that was totally unnatural for her. He had been around her long enough to know that she seemed tense, unrelaxed. He would have thought that she would be incredibly tired after everything that had happened tonight, but she seemed expectant, like she was waiting for something.

Everything about her was wrong. He had the same sensation that something bad was going on that he had had at Kalsheen's and Moriel's wedding. In that instance, his feelings had been confirmed by the Darkfriend attack on the wedding. He was beginning to trust those feelings...

Glancing at the two Black Tower men, Astara embraced the source and wrapped the Darkfriend in flows of Air. Indicating to th two men to help her lie him on the floor, Astara wove a thread of Air and quickly put an end to his indignant yells.

Concentrating on holding his head still, she knelt on the floor beside his head and watched as the two men put an end to his struggles.

Smiling nervously at Damon and Elaryn, Astara waited for them to begin.

Then Sinak and Danienda each pinned one of Rashim's arms to the floor, and Astara was kneeling by the Darkfriend's head, her mouth tight.

Slowly, Elaryn rolled up her sleeves, holding Rashim's eyes as she did so. The deep blue material of her old dress needed three folds in each arm before she felt ready to do this thing. Embracing saidar, she stepped forward, skirted around the Darkfriend's feet and knelt beside Astara.

Rashim's eyes bulged as she raised her hands towards him. Taking a deep breath, the Accepted laid her palms on his cheeks and wove a thin skein of pure Spirit. Out of the skein, she wove a shimmering net of delicate silver, which fit over Rashim's head as if it were a hat that had been measured for him by a master milliner. The weave sunk into the Darkfriends skull; he struggled against Astara's Air bonds for a moment before lying still, his eyes closed. Elaryn let go of saidar and thumbed one of his eyelids open.

"Wake up," she said, tapping the side of his head with a knuckle.

"Who are you?" Rashim said, staring up at her. His eyes looked bleary and unfocused; he was seeing Elaryn for the first time. He would not remember the young woman who had asked him a string of questions while peeling an apple in a way calculated to make a prisoner fear the worst.

"Nobody you need worry about," she replied, then looked up at her friends. "All done from my end. Now it's Damon's turn."

As she spoke, Elaryn's gaze fell on Faneek. She had an arm around Jakram's waist and looked... odd. The Manshima was looking slightly worried, too. Well, she has had a shock, Elaryn thought. I'll see how she is after we've dealt with this Rashim person...

Damon stepped forward from where he had been standing. This is it, he thought wryly. Gently, he probed the part of his mind that held his hidden gifts, Illusion and Compulsion. He took a deep breath, then took hold of Compulsion.

"I have to make physical contact with the person I'm going to use Compulsion on," he said, kneeling down to place his hand on the Darkfriend's forehead. Rashim jerked violently, then looked slightly confused. Looking up at Damon, his gaze became reverent, like he was gazing upon the Creator given flesh. Or in his case, the Dark One,

"All right," Damon said to his friends, "What do we want to know?"

Sinak was aware that he was not the only one becoming concerned with Faneek and Jakram, and he had to force himself to concentrate on the issue at hand. With a realisation that Damon was also distracted in some way, he suddenly became alarmed at the man's course of action. "What do we want to know?" But Elaryn had just cleaned the man's mind!

"Damon," he whispered. "Concentrate for a moment longer! What we need is for you to help bring out the new man in him, bring out the good! Make him a tool for the right and just! And if you can, bind him to us, so that he will accept us, each and every one, as his mentors and as his motivation for service!"

He hoped that Damon would understand, for if successful, this would mark a great turning point for their entire group.

Jakram was feeling glad that they did not have to kill the man. But is this that much better? Yes, it is. At least now he will be an agent for good. Jakram really didn't want to deal with the moral dilemma right now. Faneek was all that he could think about. He thought about telling everyone else that he suspected something was wrong, but they were busy with Rashim and he didn't have a whole lot to place his suspicions on. What would he tell them? That Faneek was acting strange? That could just be explained by the trauma caused by a Grey Man attacking Jakram.

Jakram turned his eyes back on Faneek and he almost shuddered at the strange look on her face. He would be ready to do anything he could to help her.

Danienda decided to say something after he watched Elaryn wipe the man's mind clean. Everyone seemed to be getting more apprehensive for some reason, but Danienda only blamed it only the Darkfriend that was currently watching Damon reverently.

Maybe it's not what we want to know, but what we want him to know. Danienda thought. Then he changed his mind about speaking and decided to stay quiet, not wanting to harm the delicate process.

Reaching out, Astara laid her hand on Damon's knee, giving silent support for the daunting job ahead. The Light knew she didn't want to do it, but and she was glad she didn't have any Talent for it.

"Just make it so he accepts commands from all of us in this room," she said softly. "He needs to accept that he is a tool of the Light now and not a Darkfriend."

Sweat ran down Damon's face as he began the slow process of rearranging the man's mind. So many memories... Rashim attacking people... Rashim, alone with so many women... Rashim, dedicating his life and soul to the Dark One... Rashim, killing innocent people... Damon floated in the bodiless entity that was Rashim, vainly attempting to control this wild beast that was Rashim's mind. Damon became more and more frustrated, until, with a wordless shout, he forced everything into place as he wanted it.

Now new thoughts bounced in Rashim's head. Rashim, begging forgiveness from the families of those he'd killed... Rashim, facing death because it was right... Rashim, denouncing the Dark One and swearing to the Creator... Damon gave a mighty jerk as the job finished.

Pulling out of Rashim's mind, he staggered to the nearest wall, and passed out. [/i]Argh, not again...[/i]

Damon staggered backward, away from Rashim, after finishing his draining task. Aiming for the wall, Damon had passed out on his feet. But, as luck would have it, he missed the wall and fell out a window and onto the outer balcony. Bruised but virtually unharmed, Damon lay sleeping soundly on the balcony, as his body required.

Faneek didn't really pay much attention to what was going on with everyone else. She listened to her Master in the back of her head, wondering when he would say she should strike. You are close to Jakram. Strike now my pet while everyone else is distracted. Faneek smiled as the Manshima looked down at her. As you wish, Master. Faneek brought up her right shoe to her hand, being careful that Jakram didn't notice her movement. Slowly, much to slowly for her, Faneek pulled out the dagger hidden inside her shoe. I knew I would need this someday. With an evil grin that no one else would be able to see, Faneek inched the dagger closer to Jakram's back.

Do it! Do it, now!

Yes, Master.

NO! I can't kill Jak! A distant far away voice echoed inside her head. A voice she had not heard for a long time.

Kill him! NOW!

As you wish. Faneek wielded back her hand, ready to plunge the metal deep into Jarkam's heart.

"NO!!" Faneek winced back from the voice. Her grip loosened on the dagger. Her hand started coming away from the Manshima's back. Pain and fury and frustration painted itself across the Accepted's face. She didn't know what to do.

KILL HIM!!!

I'll never betray him!

Faneek screamed in agony. All eyes turned towards her. Clutching the dagger for her life, the Ghealdanin swung it wildly, unable to control her movements. The cold metal slid across Jakram's chest, cutting a large gash in his skin. "No!" Faneek screamed again. Finally she let the dagger fall to the floor, collapsing in a faint with it. All she could hear was her Master's screams of fury in the back of her head, along with her own for what she had done.

Stunned beyond all reason, Jakram watched as Faneek fell onto the ground, unconscious. He then looked down at his chest, which was starting to bleed profusely. Disbelief was painted across his face. What just happened? Jakram looked around the room, utterly shocked and confused. As more blood seeped out of his chest, he felt light-headed, and the world began to become darker. Light, what is going on? Jakram faded into blackness as his body slumped onto the floor.

Then Rashim woke with a start, and felt afraid! Why are these people holding me down? What is happening? Why am I here? Why can I not remember anything?

Faint, far off memories flooded back. He had been a successful thief catcher, working in the seamier side of the cities to chase down criminals. Then why do I feel like such a criminal? Tremendous feelings of guilt overcame him. If it is my profession to hunt down criminals, why do I feel so much of a criminal myself?

He looked at his clothing. A gleeman? Why do I wear a gleeman's clothes? Yes he remembered that once or twice he impersonated a gleeman as part of his work, but that was so long ago! But that was a role that had taken much training from a real gleeman. Looking around, he saw people around him, but did not recognise them! Something told him that these are men and women he should trust, people who work in the Light! People who could help him atone for his past, help him overcome this overwhelming feeling of guilt.

He looked at those in the room. The man on the floor - What happened to him? The two men and woman holding him down - Why are they holding me? The woman seated near his head - Why does she look so disturbed? The couple seated - What is she doing? Why does she hold that knife!!?

"NO !!! Stop her !!! She is doing wrong !!!" Rashim panicked as he saw the woman take her knife and use it to slash the man with her. As the others are distracted by the woman's scream, he used every ounce of strength he possessed to throw off those holding him down. "She is doing evil! Must stop her!!" He got to his feet and lunges in the direction of the girl who now seems to have fainted.

Sinak had watched in fascination as he observed Damon complete the process begun by Elaryn. Never have I seen this before! Will it work? Was I right in convincing her to use Compulsion? If this goes wrong, the blame will be all mine for I was the one who suggested it. I was the one who put all at risk by trying to do something that should not have been, encouraging the use of a forbidden Talent! He had carefully watched the man's eyes open, a look of bewilderment obvious in his face.

And then - that terrifying scream! Faneek with a knife - what did Jakram try to do to her? Glancing over, he saw Jakram with blood soaking his clothes. "What is going on here? FANEEK !!! - DROP THAT KNIFE !!!" He had watched in horror as she dropped her knife and fell to the ground.

About to run over, to try and stop the carnage, Sinak found himself lying on the ground. Rashim got to his feet, seemingly to attack Faneek! "Noooo Rashim !!" Grasping with all his might, he caught Rashim's leg and hung on, then was dragged across the floor to where Faneek has fallen. "Stop Rashim, stop now!"

Elaryn was about to run to Faneek and Jakram's aid when Sinak's voice caught her attention. Elaryn went cold all over when she saw that Rashim was about to attack Faneek. What in the name of the Light is going on? Taking a deep breath to stop the confused scream rising in her throat, Elaryn channelled a barrier of Air and slapped it between Rashim and Faneek. That would stop his progress, and give Sinak the chance to wrestle him back under control again.
That job done, the Accepted turned her attention back to her two unconscious friends. Why had Faneek suddenly gone mad like that? But questions were for later. First she had to Heal this pair.

She knelt down by Jakram first - Faneek was merely out cold, he was unconscious and bleeding. A physician had once told her to deal with the unconscious person before helping one who was bleeding if she were to find herself in this sort of situation. Jakram was doing both, therefore she would treat him first.

"Astara, check Faneek's pulse and breathing for me please," Elaryn said as she pulled the Manshima's coat aside and studied the wound on his chest. "I'll get to her in a moment."

Jakram's wound was deep but not fatal. Elaryn created a Healing weave with a touch of Fire in it - that would help close up gash in his chest and give a little strength to his heart. Thank the Light the blade had missed that organ. Then she dispensed with the Fire and used a weave of Spirit, Water and Air to bring him back into consciousness. He groaned as he surfaced, his brows drawing down as his mind began to remember what had happened. Why on earth would Faneek stab him? She loved him, didn't she?

"You're all right now," she told him. "Just lie quiet a moment."

Then she got to her feet and went over to Astara and Faneek. "How is she? I... er.. do you think somebody should hold her down while I try and Heal her? The Light alone knows what state her mind is in at the moment."

Danienda said, "I think she should be Healed, something just doesn't seem right about this. I think someone should Shield her too, I'd volunteer, but I'm not very good at it. I could use saidin to restrain her, but someone should also hold her down anyway, just in case."

Danienda then seized saidin and used a series of threads of Water, Air, Spirit, and a touch of Fire to wrap around the unconscious Faneek's spine, effectively preventing her from moving.

"Okay, she shouldn't move," the Dedicated said quietly.

"Thank you, Danienda," Elaryn replied.

Meanwhile, Astara was checking on Faneek. She hadn't notice what was happening around her until Faneek screamed, as she had been concentrating on holding Rashim still. Jerking her head up, she had stared in shock at Jakram's bleeding chest and Faneek's limp form.

Elaryn's voice had broken through her shock and she had rushed Faneek's side in an instant. "She's still breathing," she said, relief flooding into her voice.

Elaryn hesitated a moment before giving Astara a weak smile. Yes, Faneek did need to be Healed. Taking a deep breath, she extended her hands and placed them on top of the Ghealdanin's head. Light, how many more people am I going to have to Heal this evening? she thought as she embraced saidar.

This time she used Delving first; she wanted to find out if there truly was something wrong with Faneek's mind. She shut her eyes as she Delved deeper, then she felt an obstruction deep down near the centre of her brain. This isn't right, Elaryn thought as she wove Spirit and pushed at the barrier. Gently, gently, too much pressure could leave her a gibbering wreck!

It was grim, painstaking work, but Elaryn eventually cleared the obstruction from Faneek's mind. "Right, now to wake her up," she muttered as she worked Water, Spirit and Air into the same weave she had used to bring Jakram back into consciousness.

As Faneek's eyes fluttered open, Elaryn prayed that she was all right.

As Elaryn worked, Faneek felt a gentle pushing deep inside of her. She could almost see the weaves of saidar in her mind. She felt the voice in her head get farther and farther away until it was cut off sharply. Faneek's mind suddenly went into shock. Her real self took back over, life and feeling coming back to her. She felt every emotion like it was new, all overcoming her in a powerful wave of life. Then, she felt more weaves of saidar drawing her mind awake.

Faneek opened her eyes in terror. She tried to move away, but her entire body was paralysed. She felt no saidar in the weaves that bound her. She looked helplessly to Danieda and Sinak, wondering in agony which one of them was holding her like a dog that had gone mad. How dare they? How dare any of them... How... Light! Faneek looked over at Jakram lying on the ground a little ways away from her. Her memories returned in a torrent of pain. She had almost killed him, almost stabbed him in the back, but in a way she had killed him. Though the wound in his chest was gone, there was a fire that burned in his eyes. A flood of so many different feelings that it made Faneek want to do something. Maybe hug him, or run away forever and never make him see her again, or maybe grab the dagger that was so close to her outstretched hand and plunge it into her own heart.

Looking around almost nervously, the Accepted tried to reach out for the True Source. A wall of the Power created a barrier that, no matter how hard she tried, would not be broken. With another sheer cry of pain, Faneek's eyes fogged up in tears as she looked in desperation at the man she cared about so much. "I'm sorry." A whisper that may not have reached Jak's ears. With that, the Ghealdanin plunged herself into painful sobs, wishing beyond all hope that the Black Tower man would let go of his weave so she could crawl up into a tiny ball and disappear forever in the dusty wood flooring. Through all her tears, she never took her eyes off of her beloved, the one she cared about most, the one who she would never hurt, the one she had betrayed forever.

Jakram woke up slowly, wondering where exactly he was. Elaryn was leaning over him, looking worried, but when he opened his eyes, relief welled into her face. Jakram definitely didn't feel like doing anything but lying there quietly and recuperating his strength. Elaryn then turned to someone else who was on the ground. Who could that be? But then, the memories flooded back into Jakram's mind, and he remembered the heart-wrenching scream that Faneek had given as she slashed him and then collapsed. Light, is she all right? What was going on with her? I hope Elaryn can help her with whatever is wrong, because something is wrong with her.

She had been acting too strangely for Jakram to doubt that.

Elaryn seemed to have finished her work with Faneek, and at first she looked outraged that she was being held down. She looked over at Jakram, and suddenly, her face drained of colour, and he only could assume that she had just remembered what she had done. Jakram's thoughts became a jumble as he remembered how she seemed to have been fighting with herself as she screamed. He also remembered the times they had spent together and his mind became very scrambled and confused. Why did she do this? It doesn't matter, she needs me now. He heard a soft whisper from her, "I'm sorry."

Jakram crawled over to her, put his arms around her, and said, "I still love you." And then he sobbed on her shoulder.

Danienda had watched as Faneek woke up and struggled against the weaves that kept her from channelling or moving, he couldn't help but feel guilty for having to do that. Faneek looked like she was just as much of a victim as Jakram was.

Since it looked like Elaryn was done and she wouldn't have woken Faneek up unless everything was safe, Danienda slashed the weave and let go of the source, relieved that he was done with it.

Thank the Light she's all right, Elaryn thought as she watched Faneek and Jakram. No - thank the Light they're both all right! She sighed with relief when she saw Sinak had overpowered Rashim. Then she gave Danienda a weary grin, suddenly too tired to speak, then imitated Damon by sinking to the floor. She sat with her head bowed, plucking at her blue skirts with slim, nervous fingers - and for some reason tears threatened to well up in her eyes.

It's just because I'm tired out from all that Healing, she thought. Not because of what happened to Faneek and because I'm back inside this wretched house! Where did that brandy go?

There - it was sitting on the floor near Astara, and close enough to touch. Elaryn reached across, her fingers closing on the neck of the bottle. "Anybody else want a glass?" she asked as she poured herself an enormous measure.

Nodding, Astara held out a cup and tried to steady her shaking hands as Elaryn filled it to the brim. Glancing at Damon's sleeping form on the balcony, she downed the brandy in several large gulps. Wetlander drink didn't burn quite as much as oosquai and although it always affected her just as swiftly, Astara drank it like milk.

"Is she all right?" Astara asked, licking the last few drops from her lips. Looking apologetically at Elaryn and Danienda, she shrugged. "I'm afraid my Delving skills are about as good as my Healing skills. Usless."

Glancing around, Astara saw fatigue in the eyes of her friends and sighed. "Perhaps it might be best if we all got a few hours rest. If Faneek is resting comfortably and there isn't any danger to her, perhaps it might be a good idea to let Elaryn and Danienda get some rest. They seem to be the only ones among us with any Healing Talent and from the looks of it, Faneek is going to need it. I'll weave a ward so no one has to stand watch," she said, betraying her Borderland habits.

Without waiting for an answer, Astara embraced the Power and wove a ward around the house, which would wake her if anything entered its boundaries. With a little effort she was able to invert the weaves and finally let go of the Power. Her exhaustion hit her and she stumbled over to the corner where Damon was sleeping. Spreading out her cloak, she lay down beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

Faneek was shocked to hear Jakram say that he still loved her. Never had he said anything of the sort. And to say it now of all times. . . Faneek burst into another round of tears, this time they were mainly of happiness that Jakram still cared for her. "I don't know what I would do without you, Jakram al'Tamm." Faneek half-smiled up at him, weaving her fingers through his dark hair.

She gave a choked laugh and embraced Jak once more, glad that whatever man had been holding her with saidin had let go. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Someone was controlling me, and he wanted you dead. I wouldn't let him take me over, though. That's why I didn't kill you. Light, I hope you can forgive me."

"Someone was controlling you?" Jakram demanded. Faneek nodded, and the dam burst. "I will make him pay! He will not get away with this." Cold fury weaved its way into his voice. "The man who did this will find no mercy from me! I will hunt him down like the scum that he is. And if it has anything to do with Lord Daerion, he will pay too." A fire burned in Jak's eyes that would not be put out. If anyone harms Faneek, in any way, they will receive vengeance. I will see to that.

Trying to calm down somewhat, Jakram spoke to Faneek to try and get some information. "What do you remember before you were controlled? Do you have any idea who it was?" He would try to find every scrap of information he could to find this man and have his revenge. He knew that death was not the answer, but this man needed to be taught a lesson. A hard lesson.

Faneek was surprised that Jakram was getting so worked up about all this, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his tone. Faneek tried to calm his somewhat, but nothing she did helped. Jakram's eyes burned with anger as he spoke. Then he turned to her and his tone softened. "What do you remember before you were controlled? Do you have any idea who it was?"

Faneek shook her head, trying to recall what had happened. "All I saw was a man in the building across the street on the corner wave something shiny in front of him. I can only assume it was some sort of ter'angreal that lets the bearer control people's minds without anyone feeling any kind of weaves. After that he controlled everything I did. I didn't remember anything of who I was. My Master was everything and nothing else mattered." Faneek looked sadly up at Jakram. "I didn't even remember that I loved you, and that I would never hurt you. Somehow I regained control of myself at the last moment before I drove my knife into your back." The Accepted didn't know what she would have done had she not been able to regain control. "I bet he is leagues away by now. I don't think you'll be able to find him."

Danienda had decided to take a share of the drink that Elaryn had and took his drink over to an unoccupied corner, and unconsciously began drinking it while thinking about the troubles that were going to come. Before he knew it, he was asleep and the drink was empty, lying on its side.

The anger still burned in Jakram, but he had begun to let it go. It had been a hard day and everyone was showing obvious signs of it. Jakram laid down on the couch, tired from all that had happened and also from the Healing he had received. He quickly drifted off into a deep slumber, oblivious of everything around him.

And out on the balcony, Damon slowly drifted out of his restful slumber to find Astara's head on his shoulder. He stretched carefully, then snuggled closer to her. Ahh. Life is good, he thought, drifting back to sleep...

As all this was happening, Sinak and Rashim had been holding a whispered conference. Sinak was now satisfied that the erstwhile Darkfriend had been cured of his evil, and immediately took him up on his offer look for the people who had tried to take over Faneek's mind.

Now, the two men were returning to the mansion, their mission a mixture of success and failure. Just a short while earlier, they had been in a struggle with one another as Sinak tried to prevent Rashim from attacking Faneek. An attack that stopped almost as soon as it started, for once she had dropped her knife, Rashim also stopped. It was the slashing knife the man had tried to stop, there was no malice towards the young woman. The two men had instead run out to see to Damon, he had fallen out a window. Fortunately, there had been a balcony just outside of the window, and he had rolled to edge, near the top of the stairs leading down. Totally exhausted, he had fallen asleep.

Seeing that Astara was on her way to care for Damon, both Rashim and Sinak had taken a quick look around and noticed someone fleeing from the building across the street. Immediately, they had set off in pursuit, while the dark figure seeing the two men abandoned all caution and ran flat out down the middle of the street. Rounding a corner some two blocks away, Sinak put his hand out, warning Rashim not to go further. There, across the street, the final chapter of Lord Daerion's miserable scheme had been played out.

Six of the Night Watch, a group of soldiers patrolling the streets of Tar Valon, had been almost bowled over by the panic-stricken sole remaining member of the assassination attempt. A short but decisive struggle ensued, and Sinak watched with revulsion as that desperate soul, rather than be taken captive, literally threw himself on the swords of his would be captors.

"Quite dead," the commander was heard to say. "The fool did it to himself!" Searching the dead man's pockets, he quickly found an odd-shaped object within. Holding it up to his torch, he examined it and its strange markings. For a moment he pondered, and then came to a decision. Handing it to one of his men, he ordered, "Go to the Tower - give this to the officer of the Tower Guard and ask that he ensure it is delivered to those within. In my opinion, this looks like something an Aes Sedai might be interested in."

As Sinak and Rashim came up the balcony stairs, Sinak noticed that Damon had now been joined by Astara. Seated at the top of the balcony, propped up against the wall beneath the window, both are sound asleep. While the night is warm, someone has been thoughtful and mindful of the early morning chill and a blanket had been placed over the two, while a pillow was stuffed behind their heads. Coming into the room, Danienda was also seen asleep, and he too has been covered with a blanket and provided with a pillow. Across the now darkened room, he looked at the sofa, where only the shadowy outlines of Faneek and Jakram were to be seen, and he suspected those two are also fast asleep.

There had been some kaf in the basket that the innkeeper had sold to Elaryn earlier in the evening. While Sinak had taken this Rashim outside, she had found water, heated it in the Aes Sedai manner, and made a pot of the reviving brew. Everyone else had fallen asleep; Elaryn felt it her duty to first make them comfortable, then stay awake and watch over them all. Now she sat at a table in a room on her own, in absolute silence, and she found herself unable to block out the inevitable memories that assailed her.

They took my father, bound him to a chair in the cellar, and tricked me into channelling as I walked underneath a shielding ter'angreal. He blistered his shoulder with a poker, he held that same poker up to my face and told me of how he had become a Darkfriend, and how he was going to pin that same charge on my father. It was me, it was all because of me that they could do this! I had to Heal him; he nearly lost his mind. Before the Darkfriend died, he nearly ran me through. If it hadn't been for my three friends...

As Sinak and Rashim left the main room to find Elaryn, they noticed the light of a single lantern shining from around the corner. Sinak walked into the next room and saw her. Sitting at the table alone, a large pot of kaf and three cups waiting in front of her, she appeared oblivious to his arrival. He stopped, momentarily blocking Rashim's view. Her face, was not just weary, but had a look of pain, of some disconcerting thought. Her eyes were so far away, staring into some far distance beyond. A single tear stained her face. Softly he walked to her side and with his finger gently brushed it away.

She blinked and drew in her breath in a sharp gasp when she felt a touch on her cheek. You, she thought as her eyes focused on the Dedicated. She raised a hand to her cheek where he had touched her and felt dampness there. The second time this evening, except the first had been with a handkerchief and therefore less intimate. Why don't I mind? she wondered. If any other man bar my father touched my cheek like that, I'd snap his head off! As she looked at him, he raised his eyebrows, wordlessly asking her what is wrong.

She gave a slight shake of her head in reply to his concerned, questioning look. "Nothing, just tired, I guess," she whispered.

Sinak did not press further. While he sensed there is more, she is not yet ready to talk of it, and he will not push the matter. With a simple hand gesture, he pointed Rashim to a chair and watched as she tood the pot of the still hot beverage, filling all three cups. In silence they drank, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

How come he's treating him like a friend now? Elaryn wondered. I hope he knows what he's doing...

Some time later, Sinak rose to refill his own cup, and offered to do the same for those of Elaryn and Rashim. Looking at Rashim, he asked, "Now that things have settled down here, tell us, just who are you? How did you get to be where you were? Why were you working for this Lord Daerion?"

As he accepted Sinak's offer of a second cup, Rashim thought for a moment before answering. Looking deeply into that almost black beverage, he pondered. Where to begin, where to end? My memory fails me, a large segment is missing!

Looking at the woman and her older male companion, he made a decision. These two, like the others now sleeping, are not agents of the dark. Everything he felt about them is a sense of rightness; he sensed they are a group of mainly young people who have banded together for the cause of good! Still, he needed to be reassured. "Are you people connected with the Tower?" he asked.

Sinak replied, "Yes, this lady is Elaryn, currently an Accepted, but soon to be an Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah. The two of the sofa, that is Faneek, also soon to be raised to the White Shawl, and with her, the man she cares for very much, even if she did try to kill him earlier, Jakram, who strives to become Gaidin so he can be her Warder. The couple sleeping outside are Astara, another future sister of the Green Ajah and Damon, another Manshima looking to become Gaidin. Its fairly obvious whose Warder he will become. Sleeping on the floor, Danienda, a Dedicated from the Black Tower, one we hope will soon be an Asha'man of the Mordero'vadin Squad. As for myself, I am called Sinak, and I too am a Dedicated from the Black Tower, although I soon expect to be an Asha'man in the Tai Ta'vron Squad."

Satisfied, Rashim started to tell his story. "Years ago, when I was but a lad, I lived in a village in Andor, just a short distance south of Caemlyn. I was always lucky at locating things that no one else could find. It was a family joke at that time, whenever something has been misplaced or had gone missing, my father would always say to the others, "Go ask Rashim, if he cannot find it, no one can!" By the time I was sixteen, a friend of my father's came to visit. He was thief catcher, a man who would trace down criminals and bring them to justice, and my father convinced him to take me on as an apprentice. And so I came to Caemlyn, and worked for my father's friend. I admit, I did not always show myself grateful, for he was a very hard taskmaster, always demanding that I cover every last insignificant detail. Yet I learned much, and soon discovered there was more to finding people or things that mere luck, it took painstaking hard work. Even when I finished my apprenticeship, I remained with him until he died of an illness. While for the first few years, I hated his demanding ways, by the time he passed on, we had become fast friends. Everything I know about my profession, I owe to him.

"It was several years later that I added an important element to my abilities as a thief catcher, how to appear as something I was not. My master had a friend for who we had done some work. He was a gleeman, a kindly old man who contacted us not to locate a criminal, as was usual for us, but rather a son he had been parted from for many years. While he had little to pay by way of coin, he had much that he was able to teach me about being a gleeman. I have a natural talent for playing the flute, and he taught me to build around that various juggling acts, story telling and other means of entertainment. It was this that allowed me to blend into and be accepted most places and talk to people to gather information that otherwise I would never have been able to get. And so I became a thief catcher masquerading as a gleeman.

"After my master died, I continued his business, and became very successful. As my clients have always relied on my utmost discretion, I am bound not to disclose who it is that I worked for, or what it is that I found. All but one, that is, for there is one who hired me under what I found later were false pretences. A man who hired me, not to find thieves and criminals, but to ensure that his own criminal activities were well enough protected so as to withstand scrutiny from those such as I. Without knowing it, it became my job to find weaknesses in his own organization, so that his activities remained immune from discovery. That man was Lord Daerion.

"After a while an accumulation of too many strange co-incidences made me suspicious, and I came to suspect that Lord Daerion was not the honest man he claimed to be. I started gathering my own evidence and learned many disquieting things about him. And so it came to the last assignment that I remember. He wanted me to go to Arad Doman, saying that someone had been stealing from shipments that were received there from over the Aryth Ocean, from Seanchan. He claimed that someone was breaking into them as these goods were transported overland to his clients.

"After making myself familiar with the city of Bandar Eban, I started hanging around the docks and keeping an eye on incoming shipments from Seanchan. It was here, at a deserted warehouse owned by Lord Daerion, where I saw a number of small boxes brought and opened. Inside, silver objects, like the collars you would place on a dog, with small silver chain for the owner to hold onto. A few hours later, I had gone to a tavern for a late night meeting with one of the Lord's contacts. From here, I'm not sure what happened, but I now suspect my drink was altered. I lost consciousness, and woke up in another place, bound and gagged. A woman was there, someone I did not know; she seemed to be an Aes Sedai except she was as no Aes Sedai I had ever met. Pure evil, she was. As I woke, she laughed at me as she joked about my knowing too much, and how she would remedy that for once and for all. She came to me, and placed her hands on my head, and all I remember from that point on was a searing white light entering my head."

Rashim looked at Elaryn, and continued, "I do not know what it is you and the man outside did to me, but something is gone! No, I am not talking about the loss of memory of what it is I did since then. What is gone that I notice is mostly a feeling, one that forces me somehow to do what I do not want. Some evil, I know not what. A guilt of something I cannot put my finger on." His voice changes to a pleading tone as he grasps her arm in desperation. "Please, if you know, what did I do? What evil have I committed? Tell me please, so I can make it right!"

Realising he is holding on to her, his grip sufficiently tight to cause her discomfort, he pulled his hand back, an apology written in his expression.

Raising her hands for a moment in a gesture of frustration, Elaryn compressed her lips together before beginning to speak. "The woman you spoke of was almost certainly Black Ajah," she said. "And it sounds as if she used Compulsion on you, to make you do what she and this Lord Daerion wanted. It sounded like they wanted to use your abilities and the only way they could do that was to enslave your mind.

"Earlier on this evening, I was asked to use that same forbidden Talent on you to try and bring you back to the Light. I objected - Compulsion and anything that deprives a man or woman of their free will is a filthy thing. But I was persuaded to wipe your memory of this evening's events instead, after which another member of our group carried out the Compulsion on you.

"I felt something give when I cleared your mind. Whatever it was gave, unravelled and disappeared. I believe this was the Compulsion this Black sister worked on you. You might have done great evil after that was carried out - you set two Grey Men on one of our number tonight, and one of them wounded another, but in all fairness you cannot truly be held responsible. If you want to redeem yourself, now is the time. Put away all thoughts of this Lord Daerion as a friend, and concentrate on leading as good and blameless a life as possible. As my father would say, walk in the Light."

Meanwhile, Faneek was dreaming.

The strange man wrapped in a familiar black cloak duelled fiercely in a sword fight with Jakram. Steel rang out through the empty courtyard. Three swords fighting desperately to find their targets, but getting deflected by their opponents quick movements. Faneek watched helplessly from the balcony above, unable to do anything to help her Warder. Jakram was slowly getting beaten, sweat running down his face from the strain of fighting. The man who had controlled Faneek's mind once gave a loud maniacal laugh and, with one last strike, drove his sword into Jakram's stomach. Faneek screamed in agony, watching her love crumble to a heap on the ground and feeling his wound like a horrible echo, but there was nothing she could do, no way to Heal him.

Wiping his now bloodied sword on the fallen Gaidin's coat, the tall figure wrapped in a black cloak looked up at Faneek, his eyes burned with the thirst for blood. . . Her blood.

Faneek's eyes shot open in fear. The dream had been so real, so terribly real. The Accepted glanced around the room quickly, making sure that the man with the long black cloak was not there. Then, she looked to see if Jak was alright. He sat next to her, sound asleep. Faneek smiled a little bit at how content he looked. My Jak. The thought made the horrible dream almost disappear, but there was still the haunting feeling that something like that could happen, and Faneek might not be able to stop it.

With a frightened shiver, the Ghealdanin decided that sleep might only bring back more horrible dreams. Slowly, as not to wake up the Manshima beside her, Faneek got up from the couch and stretched her arms above her head. She noticed that not all the group was sitting in the large room, and neither was Rashim. Faneek tried to calm her feelings and keep her Aes Sedai serenity that she was still learning, but there was panic gripping her heart. Rushing on light feet, the Accepted ran into the hallway outside the room, looking around for any signs of Sinak, Elaryn, or the Darkfriend.

Candlelight from a room down the hall made Faneek feel much better. She knew that it had to be Elaryn or Sinak. Just as she was about to go and join whoever was in there, she spotted something on the floor. It looked like a notebook of some kind. Faneek knelt down carefully and picked it up, wondering who it belonged to. With a small shrug, the Accepted walked into the candle lit room and saw all three of the missing people there. She smiled slightly and walked over to Sinak. "Your the Black Tower's Librarian, right?" After the Dedicated's nod, she handed the notebook over to him.

Sinak accepted the notebook from Faneek, and studies her for a moment Still not completely sure what had happened to make her do what she did earlier, he was worried - was her mind damaged in any way? She seemed calm enough, but then the training at the White Tower would have taught her to hide her emotions, and bury any pain she had. I just hope her relationship with Jakram will be strong enough that she can open up to him and that they can work it out together.

He flipped through the book - nothing more than dates, initials, and numbers. Perhaps with some study, something can be made of it. The handwriting was not familiar, and he looked at the two women, asking, "Could this belong to any of the others - do either of you recognize this?" Both shook their heads.

Then all at once, Rashim spoke up. "I recognise it - it is mine from years ago." As the others looked at him, he extended his hand to Sinak who gave him back his property. He explained as he flips through the book, "This is a book I used to record fees received as a thief catcher, the initials are my clients in one column, my target in the other. The date speaks for itself and the last is the amount of fee received."

As he got to the more recent pages, all at once his hand began to quiver and his face turned white. "No, this cannot be!" Looking at the others he asked in a trembling voice, "What is the date today?" On being told, Rashim handed the book back to Sinak, saying in a whisper, "Look - the last entry I remember - almost two years ago! All those after that, I recall none of them! And look at the amounts - much higher than I ever received before. As a thief catcher, I have learned enough that those amounts have a meaning to me - they are the standard rates that would be paid to a skilled assassin!"

With horror on his face, he looked in agony at the three around him, sounding like some someone about to declare a verdict on himself. "You know what this means? It means I have been working as an assassin for these past two years! And look at how many! How much killing have I done?"

Sinak tried to reassure him. "You did what you did, not because you wanted to, but because you were under compulsion! I don't hold you responsible, that burden falls directly on those who did this to you."

Rashim did not accept this rationalisation. "No, if I killed, then it is by my hand they died, not that of who paid me. Look - it says it all here - I received payment for what I did! Its dirty money, blood money, tainted with the agony of those I victimised! I cannot accept this!" With that, he threw the book onto the table, and placing his head between his hands, he fell into deep despair.

Someone suggested that the initials may help to identify the victims, but Rashim shook his head. "No, even the victims' initials were coded, it is a common practice to do so, and with no memory of what happened, I will never know who they were!" Raising his head enough to look at the others, he asked, "What can I do? I cannot keep this money, and if I don't know whose families I have hurt, what am I to do with it?"

No one had a ready answer. All Elaryn, Faneek and Sinak could do is look sadly at the man. While they can sympathise with him, they cannot help, for this is a matter Rashim must resolve for himself.

At last, Rashim looked up. With a new resolve in his voice, he said, "This is what I must do - the money I cannot take! I would take it to the White Tower, but they would never understand. Only you here know what really happened. Let me do something for you - let me give you the money!"

With one glance at the look of revulsion on the faces of his three companions, and Rashim realised his error. "No, I did not mean it that way, what I meant was, can you use the money somehow in the cause of good? For example, I notice, just from observing you that the manor we are in right now is not yours, yet it seems to be of use to you. You have helped me earlier in getting rid of whatever compelled me to do what I did. Help me now in trying to create something of benefit. While you all have your own Towers to work out of, there are things you or your associates may need a separate place for, a manor such as this one. Let me find the money that was so badly obtained, and allow me to use it on something that will advance your cause? Please?"

Startled at this new development, Sinak glanced at Elaryn and Faneek. Both seem in shock at the offer, although Elaryn seemd particularly affected by the offer made. He realises this is not something the three of them can decide.

So he went back to the other room and woke the others, explaining that a serious decision is to be made. Returning to the room with the large table, he pulled over enough chairs for all and sat down. He wanted to hear how they will react and respond to Rashim's offer.

Should we allow Rashim to buy the Manor on Silver Street for our use, as our home base for future adventures? he thought as he waited for everybody to file in. How say we all?

Elaryn's eyes had gone as wide as they would go at Rashim's unexpected, shocking offer. Blood money - to buy this Light-forsaken place! Why here, blood and ashes, why?

Looking at Sinak and Faneek, she had seen that their eyes had also widened, but their surprise seemed like it would resolve into the joy of an unexpected present. But in her case, this gift was poisoned. It was tainted like the Blight, like the body of that Grey Man that had stabbed Damon and made her have to bring everyone here in the first place...

Sinak had left the candlelit room, after saying that he would wake the others so they could talk this through. Faneek had followed him, leaving her alone in the room with Rashim. The newly-Healed man watched her cautiously, like a dog that hoped for a bone but expected a kick. "I cannot take part in this discussion," she said stiffly, trying not to let the memories overwhelm her. "Thank you for my share of the favour, but I truly cannot accept it. What the others decide is up to them. Tell them I abstain."

Without waiting to hear Rashim's answer, Elaryn turned on her heel and left the room.

Once out in the corridor, she stopped for a moment, wondering where to go. Much as Rashim's offer distressed her, she wouldn't give her friends any worry by returning to the White Tower alone without telling them. And there was no way she was going down to that cellar again. She caught her breath as the image of Gelbar standing above her flashed across her mind, his white cloak swirling around him, emblazoned with a cruel red shepherd's crook behind the golden sun; his sword upraised, ready to run her through and carry her with him into death. No, not down there. Never again.

That only left one place - up.

She ran up the main staircase on light feet, making as much sound as a mouse might on a midnight foray for food. She did not stop until she reached the top floor, where she realised she could not see more than a foot in front of her. The Accepted channelled a tiny globe of blue light, a small enough weave for Faneek and Astara downstairs to have trouble feeling her using the One Power, and pushed open the door in front of her.

The room beyond was large, with bare floorboards, crumbling plaster walls - and a magnificent view of the night sky through an enormous hole in the roof. The stars were visible as was the moon, which was setting. It was larger than usual, full, and was a sickly pale yellow colour that fitted Elaryn's mood perfectly. She began to pace as soon as she entered the room, her blue globe of channelled light bobbing a foot above her head.

"Why this place?" she said out loud in a tight little voice. "I mean look at it, it is falling down around our heads! It has been empty for years, and has a bad reputation. And it will cost a fortune to renovate - the roof is falling in, the plasterwork wants redoing and I would bet my father's entire estate - as if it would ever be mine to wager - that the deeds for this place require the services of an Ogier stonemason for any major repairs! That will cost an absolute fortune! We might have brought him out of his Compulsion, but this Rashim must still be several lances short of a legion to even suggest it!"

Her short burst of energy gone, Elaryn came to a standstill in the middle of the room. She stared up at the sickly moon, and made no effort to stop the tears that were spilling down her cheeks.

Back in the main room, Sinak bent over Jakram and gently nudged him, which brought him out of the deep slumber that he was in. Why did he have to wake me? Jak thought groggily.

"We're about to make a very important decision," Sinak explained. "Please meet in that room over there with everyone else."

Jakram truly felt like just returning to his peaceful rest, but instead he dragged himself off of the couch and into the room. Rubbing his eyes, he took a chair next to Faneek. "I hope this is quick, I still need my sleep," he muttered so only Faneek could hear.

Then Sinak shook Danienda awake. "Hm, what is it morning already?" Danienda asked. "An important decision, okay."

Danienda managed to stumble into the next room. He sat down in one of the empty chairs, trying to make sure he stayed awake. So, what is this *yawn* grand decision? he thought to himself as he waited for the others.

Out on the balcony, Damon was still fast asleep. His dream kept getting weirder and weirder.

Damon stood in a hallway in the White Tower. Whirling around, he looked quickly both ways. No one around. Turning back the way he'd been looking, he yelled in surprise as a person appeared next to him. Damon growled. "How did you get there!" he shouted at the person, who's features were clouded by...something.

"I am here," it replied, "and so are you, Damon..." It raised a hand and pointed it down to the far end of the hallway. At that end, Astara appeared, along with everyone he'd ever known from back home in Saldaea. They were tied hand and foot, unable to move or speak, but Astara spoke. "Damon, help me!" she yelled. Drawing his swords, Damon turned to attack the mysterious figure, but when he turned, it solidified. There, in a cloak that was as white as snow, with a golden sunburst on his chest and two knots of rank above it, stood Jaython Carison, the Whitecloak who had given Damon his scar.

Jaython laughed. "Go, al'Morlan. Save them, if you can." Damon's blood boiled with anger and hatred.

"I thought I'd killed you, Carison!" he yelled at the man.

Jaython's laugh became maniacal. "Yes, you did, didn't you? But you didn't, and now I shall kill all those dear to you, and then kill you, al'Morlan!"

And then he was gone, but his laugh still echoed in the hall. Snarling, Damon turned and began sprinting towards the group of tied up friends and family. But as he ran, Whitecloaks began appearing between him and them. He desperately began fighting them, trying to reach Astara's voice, still calling his name. He felt every sword pierce his body as he fell. "ASTARA!!!!" he screamed...

Damon awoke with a jolt. Shaking his head, he looked down at Astara. She was there, sleeping soundly despite his rude awakening. Sighing, he ran his fingers through his hair, then looked at them in shock.

They were bloody.

Beside him, Astara gradually came out of her slumber. The first thing she became aware of was the moon shining down on her and the cold night air. Her back was sore from the hard ground below her and she sat up slowly, wondering where she was. This isn't the Accepted Quarters, she thought. A movement caught her eye and she turned to see Damon looking intently at his hands. Suddenly she remembered it all - the tavern, the Grey Men, the Darkfriend.

Soft candlelight spilled out of the window and Astara slowly became aware of the quiet voices inside. Without a word, she took Damon's hand, and led him back inside. "What's going on? Where's Elaryn?" she asked, approaching the table everyone was standing around. She dropped Damon's hand and wiped the sweat off on the threadbare tablecloth, jerking in surprise at the blood that stained where her hand had touched. Eyes wide, she turned around to face Damon.

"What...?" she asked, unable to finish the sentence.

Damon could only shake his head. "I... think it was Tel'aran'rhiod. There was..." he trailed off, still looking at this bloodied hands, ignoring the single drop of blood that began to run down the side of his face. Right over his scar.

Damon, still staring at his bloody hands, staggered over to the curtains and wiped his hands on them. 'What happened...?'

"I can Heal that for you if you like, Damon," said Faneek, who had watched everybody come into the candlelit room. "And whatever is bleeding above your eye, too."

Damon nodded. "Yeah, Faneek. That would be great," he said, only half paying attention. What had happened? He'd never entered the World of Dreams unwittingly before. He'd never thought it possible for someone experienced...

He shook his head slightly as Faneek approached, then said, "Sorry. Go ahead, I suppose." He sighed, then he chuckled. "Being Healed twice in one night? I must be getting careless."

Faneek half smiled at Damon's comment then reached out to take his wounded hand in her own. Embracing saidar, the Accepted created a Delving weave over Damon to see what the problem was exactly. He had gotten cut on his hand by...something or other and there was a small cut above a scar on his face. Faneek nodded to herself slightly and placed her hands on Damon's head. It wasn't necessary to do this, but somehow it made it easier. Weaving Air, Water, and Spirit into a small intricate string, Faneek placed it on the cut on the Manshima's hand. She waited until it was fully Healed before moving to the one above the old scar. Using the same weave, Faneek placed the small string in place and watched it Heal.

Taking her hands away, Faneek spoke. "It's done. And you might want to be more careful, because the next injury you get might not be Healable."

Sinak looked around the room. He had awoken the others and here they were at last, seated around the table waiting to hear what it was that Sinak and Faneek had so urgently awakened them for. While Damon was being examined and looked after, each listened carefully to what is being offered.

Looking about, the older man noticed that Elaryn had disappeared. A quick whispered conversation with Rashim told him what she had said, and he resolved to determine what it was that troubled her. How strange, it was she who choose this particular manor of all available places in the city, and yet her reaction from the moment she set foot through the door was one that was almost one of revulsion. It is as if there is something that both attracts her and repels her. Something that seems wrong somehow.

Rashim proposed that in order for him to rid himself of his past crimes, the monies gained from his repulsive activities had to be got rid of. Because his memories of those crimes had been eliminated, it simply was not possible to make restitution to the families of his victims. Another solution had to be found, he did not want to keep the wealth so heinously obtained. What he therefore suggested was that he use these funds to purchase something that could be used as a tool in the fight against the Dark One. It was to all of us that he felt an obligation and a debt of gratitude, for each had played his or her part in putting an end to his criminal career. He had recognised that while each of those present had his or her place in either the White Tower or the Black Tower, there were still those activities that required a common place that was outside any Tower. Therefore, he had proposed to spend his money purchasing for the group the very building they were in.

The question that remained for all to answer was this - did the group want to accept his offer?

Faneek and Sinak had been present when Rashim first made his offer and had therefore had a bit more time to think about it than the others. As she was busy tending to Damon's injuries, Sinak spoke first and expressed his opinion.

"Speaking only for myself, I believe Rashim's offer is one that is too good to pass up. All of us here have our own Towers in which we are members. Yet as time goes on, and we each become Aes Sedai, Gaidin, or Asha'man, we will at times have need to work from a place outside the walls of our individual Towers. A place we can all work from, regardless of whether we do it as one large group, or some of us, or together with our other friends at the two Towers. For me, because the Black Tower is near Caemlyn and the White Tower is here at Tar Valon, I have a great distance to go between the Towers, so this Manor would give me a place to stay when I am here for any length of time.

"As to the condition of this building, from what I saw on the outside when we came here earlier, and from what little I saw when I took a look through a few rooms here, I would say that while this building is strongly built, a lot of work and repair remains. Those costs are of little concern, I lived alone some thirty years as a rancher before coming to the Black Tower, and have put away some funds over the years. What is really needed is a lot of work from all of us. While I will soon become an Asha'man and hold an office in my Squad, that does not mean that I will be too "important" to take off my uniform and lose a little sweat in applying a hammer or a paint brush. If we want this Manor to be ours, we each will have to do our part to make whatever we want it to be.

"One further thing - if Rashim is going to be good enough to help us, let us do something for him. Having been away from his original profession for about two years through no fault of his own, his business as a thief catcher and investigator is a shambles, and he has no place to stay. If we decide to accept this house, let us give Rashim quarters of his own, and let us be the main clients of his business. In this way, if any of us has need for a man of his obvious skills, his services will be available to us all. And so, my vote will be, yes, I gratefully accept Rashim's offer to give us this Manor."

He looked at each of his companions, and finished by saying, "It is getting late, and sunrise is only an hour or so away. Let's make a decision, and then call it a night. I for one have to Travel back to the Black Tower to attend to my duties. Regardless of whether the rest of you go back to your own quarters or stay here, the time has come to conclude our business and move on." As Rashim nodded in acceptance, Sinak looked around the room and invited the others to state their opinion.

Damon had shivered slightly as the faint chill of Healing came over him. Faneek stepped back, and Damon chuckled. "What would I do without my friends, eh? And I will be more careful from now on." He put his hand over his heart and faked innocence. "Honest to goodness I will!" Returning to seriousness, he said, "I agree with you, Sinak. We would have a great asset in this old house. It gives us a staging point away from the Towers and, better yet, free lodging!" He laughed. "And in the case, the Light forbid, that one of us would get into trouble, we could come here to 'hide out', per se. I say let's get it."

Nodding in agreement, Astara smiled at the rest of the group. "I think it's a great idea," she said. "But I think the final decision should be left to Elaryn, it's her history."

Damon nodded assent to Astara's remark. "I have to agree with Astara at that, as well. Elaryn smelled... terrified of this place for some reason. She may not want to stay here. And, in my opinion" -he shook his head; being Healed all the time was beginning to become a hassle- "we shouldn't pick a place that we're not all comfortable with."

I've got to be more careful with my actions from now on, he thought.

Jakram was surprised at what Rashim proposed, but he readily agreed. "This manor would make a great place to gather. I vote that we allow Rashim to stay here also. It is only right that we let him stay in the house that his money would buy. We will also be here to help him make whatever restitution he can for what he has done in the past."

Having had his say, Jakram went back to trying to sleep in the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in. I doubt I'll be able to make it back to the Tower tonight, he thought as a large yawn escaped his mouth.

"Wow..I agree too," Danienda said. "This just seems like too good of an offer to pass up. So I'm just going to agree with everything." Then the Dedicated started to fall asleep in the chair.

Sinak moved away from the group as his friends discussed what they wanted to do. He needed to find her, Elaryn, to attempt to discover what her objection was. To him, 'I abstain' was not a solution. Either all agreed of their own free will, or the deal was off. And so he ventured into the darkness, and seizing the smallest amount of saidin, he wove a light, just small enough to light his way, to see the footprints in the dust of the long abandoned house. Up the staircase, in and out of several rooms, then further stairs, the footsteps meandering from room to room. He followed the trail at last he came to a large chamber where the disturbance in the dust did not exit. Releasing saidin, he extinguished the small glow, no further light was needed.

And there he found her. In a room full of shadows, like those that seemed to haunt the recesses of her soul. Under the open sky where some mishap had damaged the roof, illuminated by the brilliance of countless stars above, tiny pinpricks each blazing their own special light, she stood within her own solitary universe. With her back towards him, facing a large window, the setting moon shone its soft yellow reflection on her - a silhouette framed by a golden aura. Muffled sobs alone broke the silence.

His instinct was to approach her, to place his arm around her and comfort her. But he stopped. There was something here she alone could face; without invitation, he had no right to intrude. Earlier he had sensed something amiss, but she had refused to speak of it. Leave her be. Grant her the dignity of facing her demons alone, within the solitude of her own thoughts. Sinak retreated into the hallway, near enough to be close if she needed it, yet sufficiently distant to ensure her privacy.

Standing in the hallway just outside the chamber's entrance and with her just out of his line of sight, he examines the remainder of the room. As his eyes became accustomed to the dark, he began to notice that which he had not seen before. The hole in the ceiling was not just a random jagged edge but had straight lines, almost a trapezoid shape. But straight lines do not occur in nature! As he focused on the area, he saw something else, a shading darker than the surrounding ceiling. A circular shape, its distance across larger than a man's height. And on the floor below, tiny reflections of starlight twinkling back.

Of course - a skylight! The glass had been broken and someone had placed a covering planking over the hole. The smaller shape admitting light was merely where that covering had been shifted. Only the great genius of the Ogier could have designed such a feature. This Manor was not just another old house, it was one such as only the Ogier would built, which meant that it would stand for centuries to come!

Elaryn stared ahead, not sensing Sinak on the stairs outside, so deep was her misery. Saidar slid away from her as she bowed her head and gave her grief full rein. The small ball of blue glowing light above her head dimmed and winked out, leaving yellowish moonlight and cold starlight the only sources of illumination in the dusty room. The silence and the deepened shadows all around seemed to crowd her as she pressed the knuckles of a clenched fist against her lips in an effort to contain her sobs. Being overheard did not occur to her. On some deep level she knew that if she made no attempt to dam the flood, she might find herself curled on the floor in a tight ball of misery.

Flashbacks flicked through her mind in quick succession. First the meeting at the inn, where her father had first slapped her hard across the face and then hugged her like he was never, ever going to let go. The righteous anger on his face when she had refused his offer of taking her off Tar Valon, and the dreadful, final sound of the door slamming as he had stormed out of the room. The sudden, sick horror when she had read the Questioner's letter to her, the evil words scalding her eyes and mind. The way her knees had shaken when she had approached the front of this very manor, ready to ring the doorbell and hand herself over to those who were not famous for showing mercy. The hatred on the face of the first Questioner when he had answered the door. The painful, drawn-out walk across the landing and down the stairs to... to the cellar. Lord Inquisitor Rael Gelbar blatantly ignoring her penitent curtsey as he casually heated a poker in a brazier and pressed it to her father's shoulder...

She flung her head back, scalding tears running down her face. She bought her hand down from her lips and clutched at a square of stone looped on a thong around her neck, hidden beneath the fabric of her high-necked blue dress. Even after all these years, her wrists ached when she recalled how that first Questioner had held her back until she was angry enough to channel, only to be driven to her knees as the force of the shielding trap cut her off from the One Power. Elaryn wanted to draw out the square shielding ter'angreal from underneath her dress, rip it from her neck and fling it across the room. Her sobs became angry; a Black Aes Sedai had placed that and she was still nameless and at large...

More memories assailed her. The desperate swordfight she had had with Gelbar while her father had watched, helpless and bound to a chair. How she had been easily defeated and how the Questioner had held her wrist in a merciless grip as he spoke of his allegiance to the Dark One, and how he was going to use her to ruin Lord Captain Teryl Drenhald. The fight draining out of her father's eyes as he had considered taking Gelbar's oath to prevent her from being hurt, then the dizzying relief as Liema, Kiara and Zondion had charged in through the cellar door. How Gelbar had nearly killed her before her father had run him through the chest with his sword. Her horror when she realised the Lord Captain might not recover mentally from the events of the evening as all his beliefs about channelling and Darkfriends had been turned upside down. How she'd Healed his shoulder where Gelbar's foul hot metal had burned and blistered...

Not here, not here, I could never live here! Burn you, Rashim! I should have listened to Liema that night, and razed this place to the ground when I had the chance!

Elaryn squeezed her eyes shut, trembling as another wave of grief shook her. Then slowly, her emotions lessened in intensity until she felt an odd detachment, like a painful, empty form of peace. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, and raised them to the hole in the ceiling.

Countless stars shone from the depths of a sky so deep a blue it was almost black. Some were bright white pinpricks of light, others dimmer and clustering like powder spilt carelessly on polished obsidian. The yellow, full moon hung low in the sky, a segment peeping through the large window opposite Elaryn and throwing its light into the room. The hole in the ceiling was large enough for her to appreciate the sheer sweep and grandeur of the night sky arching over the world. Suddenly she longed for her spirit to fly out through that hole and wander among those magnificent, faraway globes. Her grief would pale beside the cold beauty of darkness and constellations, and her insignificant soul would soon be lost against this stark vastness...

But Elaryn Drenhald was destined to be earthbound for a while longer yet. As her fingers found the handkerchief up her sleeve, she heard a sudden creak from outside the room. A foot on a floorboard! Slowly, she wiped her eyes and noiselessly blew her nose, trying to mend her appearance. One of her friends was standing by the staircase.

Composing herself, taking comfort in the sense of fractured peace she had recently achieved, she turned and walked out to whoever was waiting outside for her. She stepped over the threshold of the room, then stopped dead. Those broad shoulders, the gravity and intelligence masked but not eclipsed by an easy, informal manner - it was that Black Tower man who had somehow sliced through the usual prejudices and seen straight into the heart of a Whitecloak's daughter who could channel.

Sinak watched her intently as she slapped one palm against the doorframe, holding her chin high. Yes, I have been crying my eyes out, no point in trying to hide it!

"I can guess the vote already; they all said yes," Elaryn said, relieved that her voice only held a slight tremor. "I take it Rashim told you all what I said? I cannot take a part in owning this place. Something evil happened here, something I do not care to speak about. Please respect that as I respect your own decisions. Whatever you and the others decide to do is up to you. All I ask is that you leave me out of it."

Elaryn's heart sank as she studied Sinak's face, illuminated by the starlight pouring through the hole in the ceiling of the room behind her. Somehow she knew he would try and talk her out of the only decision she could make.

"Elaryn, please - come sit with me for a moment. Even if you do not wish to talk, there is something that I need to say," Sinak said.

He walked to the bay window in the far corner, and cleared a space so that both might sit. She seemed to hesitate at first, and then relented. Slowly she walked back into the room, as she approached him, the moonlight fell on her face. He noticed that an attempt to clear away the tearstains had left dusty smudges, adding to her appearance of grief. Deliberately he sat on the side, which cast a shadow on his face while at the same time letting the moonlight illuminate hers. It was as it should be, for at the moment, she was the focus of all issues here.

Patiently, he began. "What the vote downstairs was, I would not know. I said my piece, stated what I felt should be said, and came to look for you. As I left, the others were still debating among themselves. Yes, Rashim did tell me what you said, that you would abstain. To me, the word abstain simply means you do not want to face the decision at hand. I am not here to demand or pressure you into a choice contrary to your convictions. I only ask that you stand up and make a choice, either yes or no. A definitive answer is something I can live with, regardless of whether or not it is the same as the one I gave. You say, 'All I ask is that you leave me out of it'. You cannot leave yourself out of it. When you brought us here this evening, that was no random act. The stains on your face tell it all. Even though there is something here that repels you, nevertheless somehow you were drawn to come here despite the evil you talk of. No, the issue is not how the others vote, it is not Rashim, it is not even the house, the issue is Elaryn."

As the moonlight played on her features, it seemed to him he saw a flash of anger at his presumption, and her body shifted as if getting ready to walk away. "Hear me out a moment longer please, what I have to say may be blunt for I am not one given fancy speeches. What I have to tell you is simple, and reflects how I feel. If it offends, so be it, feel free to do as you wish when I finish. Will you do me that courtesy?"

For the moment, she remained.

"I have never seen you before tonight. Other than what little you have told me, I know nothing about you or your friends downstairs. Only Danienda, who is a fellow Dedicated from the Black Tower, is known to me. To me, the rest of you are all strangers. Separate strands in the weave of the Wheel, thrown together as if by chance in a night intended by each to be a random gathering of those of like rank for a few drinks, some music, and perhaps a dance or two. Yet somehow we became a group. The man, Rashim, became an important part of that weave - his former associates serving to bring us together for a common purpose. Each of us played a part, Jakram as the intended victim of some plot, Damon who suffered injuries as result. Faneek, Astara, and Danienda, all of whom played a part to not only save the lives of Damon and Jakram, but to bring us to where we are now. And so we come to you. And yes, you also did your part with the others in the events of this night.

"But there is more. Tonight outside the tavern, when I suggested we go back to the Tower, it was you who set us on the path that led up to this moment. Whatever it was that motivated you to bring us here, it was, like it or not, the first step in facing whatever horrors plague you. When you became an Accepted, you were required to face the Three Arches. As part of that, you were required to face your worst fears. Had you not successfully done so, you would not be here tonight. Take what you learned there and apply it to face your fears here. For face them you must, not only for your own sake, but also to play your part in the weave, for you are the catalyst that brought us Rashim's offer.

"On a more practical level, the building itself seems sound. There is some damage, but I am convinced from what little I have seen that it was Ogier built, and will serve for many years to come. Take this room for instance, it seems to be a lady's chamber, and with a little imagination could easily be furnished to match the lovely pink wallpaper here. Fix the skylight, and we have a place with all the comforts one could ask. Even if you choose never to live here yourself, there are others who will be happy to work from here instead. From what you said earlier, you are the daughter of someone who has rejected you. As Accepted, your needs are met by the Tower, but I surmise you have little else. If you cannot bear to be here due to some evil in the past, help ensure that this manor becomes a tool in the hands of good in the future. From the rental of your portion alone, you would be well provided to spend as you see fit. And if by the time you are raised to the shawl, you still do not want a part of it, come talk to me and I will offer you a fair price. I may be only a Dedicated, but I do still have certain resources."

She stood up and stepped away, then turned to face him. Her face hidden by the shadows, he knew not what her reply would be.

Elaryn had got to her feet and marched six paces away from the window seat and the Black Tower man, her worn blue skirts swishing around her ankles. Abruptly, she spun on her heel to face him, her arms crossed over her chest. It was unclear, even to her, whether she had folded her arms in defence against his words or if she had made the gesture with the intention of hugging her fears tight so they would not escape and overwhelm her. She took another step, this time forward, and the light from the moon shone on her face.

"You say the issue here is me," she said in a tight voice. "Yet I said I would abstain from this decision so I would not affect anybody else's choices, or the end agreement. Burn you, can't you see that? You're as bad as the White Ajah, with all your talk of the Pattern, the Weave and how I should defer to it and 'play my part'. What I did tonight to help Rashim was, in the end, my decision. It is also my choice that I leave the rest of you to decide as you see fit, having no part in it. Why should I be forced into something because I am told 'the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills'..."

For a moment, she clenched her fists as the inevitable thought struck her. The bloody Wheel willed that you channel, didn't it? It willed that you ran from home, weren't caught and killed, and ended up in Shienar. It willed that you did not die serving as a scout in the Blight. It willed that you face the Shadow in its rawest form, survive, and eventually enter the White Tower...

That's your trouble, Elaryn Drenhald. Part of you still smarts that you had no choice.

She regarded Sinak for a long time, most of her weight shifted onto her left foot and her arms folded across her chest. The older man was still seated, and he watched her with what seemed equal parts patience and caution. With his suggestion that she rented out her portion of the manor, or sold it to him when and if she ever became Aes Sedai, he had removed every practical objection she could have. She still did not quite see how her assent was so important to the others choosing to accept Rashim's offer, but there it was. Why has he bothered to offer to buy my share because of my trouble with this place, the details of which he knows nothing? I've only just met him...

That left only one outstanding issue. Her fears.

Elaryn's mind went back to when she had been raised Accepted, her journey through the Three Arches. Once for what was: Gelbar and his men arresting her before she had even got as far as the Amadicia/Altara border, dragging her none too gently back to the Fortress of the Light and leaving her in a dungeon to stew a little before the inevitable questioning. Lord Inquisitor Gelbar himself had come for her then, gripping her upper arm as he pushed her down the corridor, his eyes gleaming as he informed her of what she could expect. The shining Arch had only appeared after he had dragged her into his torture chamber and allowed her time to see and appreciate the large array of instruments it held. She had not hesitated; she had punched the Questioner in the face and leapt through the Arch, his yell of fury echoing in her ears.

Once for what is: Accepted Elaryn looking out of her window one morning to see rows and rows of white tents encircling Tar Valon. A Red sister had come for her, coldly informing her to finish dressing and accompany her to the Hall of the Tower. She had been forced to sit through the Sitters' debate; the army outside the gates were Whitecloaks, headed by none other than her father. One faction, led by the Reds, had wanted to place her under arrest and use her as a lever to get Teryl Drenhald to break his siege. The other faction, led by the Blues, had maintained Elaryn was as much a woman of the Tower as the Amyrlin Seat and did not deserve to be treated in that way. The Blues had won and Elaryn had been allowed to keep her freedom. Two days later she was half-sick with fear at the thought of what she must do if the Whitecloaks succeeded in invading the White Tower. She had hidden behind a curtain in a corridor near the Red Halls when she heard footsteps coming towards her, not wanting to face any sisters of that Ajah. Two Reds were furtively escorting a bound man with a sack over his head, but she had recognised him. Her father. Elaryn had followed them to the room where they imprisoned him, then waited until after the Reds had gone. She had channelled, picked the lock and crept inside, waking the Lord Captain from his despairing slumber. "Come on, Father, no time to lose..." she had whispered, then the lead Red had appeared at the doorway, labelling her a snake in the grass, a traitor to the Tower and a Whitecloak half-wit for not realising that the door had been Warded. That was when the Arch had appeared; she had hesitated for only a moment before running though, her father's voice begging her not to leave him to these witches ringing in her head...

Once for what will be: Elaryn Sedai of the Green Ajah back in Shienar, close to the Blight, riding through the snow with her Warder. The pair had come across a battered legion of Whitecloaks heading in the opposite direction. Elaryn, still young enough not to have an ageless face, had heeled her horse over to the edge of the road to let the legion pass. But one of the officers recognised her, and she and her Warder, grossly outnumbered, had been captured easily. "Your father leads us, witch, and we were attacked by your friends the Trollocs," the officer had spat, gesturing over to a covered litter being pulled along by two horses. "Our Lord Captain has been pierced in the side by a Myrddraal's blade, and does not have long to live. I hope you are pleased with yourself, Shadowsworn."

Elaryn had been horrified and, although a prisoner, demanded to be taken over to the litter. The officer had grudgingly complied, and she had gasped when she saw her father's form lying there, face taut with agony and covered with sweat, tabard red from where his blood had seeped out past the bandages... "Father," she had whispered, reaching out and smoothing the grey hair off his forehead. "It's Elaryn - I can Heal you." She heard the officer's outraged snarl, but did not care. She readied herself for the Source - and the Arch had appeared, glowing with a clear, mocking light. She had hesitated even longer that time, shouting that she just had to do this one thing before she walked back to wherever, but the curve of light had begun to dim. The only sound she heard as she flung herself through the third Arch, a split second before it would have disappeared completely, had been her own cry of grief.

Elaryn blinked and came back to the present. Sinak still watched her, his face in shadow. He was silent, but his earlier words echoed in her mind. When you became an Accepted, you were required to face the Three Arches. As part of that, you were required to face your worst fears. Had you not successfully done so, you would not be here tonight. Take what you learned there and apply it to face your fears here...

Yes, this had to be challenged, and now. Otherwise it would sit forever in the back of her mind like a putrid, swelling canker. The Accepted rubbed her eyes, then began to speak. "I got through the Three Arches by holding the thought that what happened there was not real, that my imagination alone supplied the situations. The events that haunt me here were played out in the cellar. I... I will go down there now, and I shall vote to buy this manor only if I can truly face my fears."

The Dedicated stood and walked over to her. Elaryn held out her hand and he shook it. Deal, was the unspoken word that passed between them. She turned and led the way out of the room, Sinak keeping three paces behind her, again by unspoken agreement. Odd that he seems to understand my need for both privacy and support, she thought as she walked down the stairs, one slim hand trailing along the banister and releasing tiny clouds of dust into the air. Halfway down the staircase, she channelled a ball of blue light, holding it out in front of her so that both she and Sinak could see. This man irked her - Why am I letting a virtual stranger talk me into this? - and comforted her - Why is he making such an effort and being so patient with someone whose objections to a sound offer are on the surface so trivial? He followed her past the candlelit room where she heard the hum of the others' conversation, down some more stairs, then onto the landing and down the stairs that led to the cellar.

She paused at the entrance to the cellar, the remains of the door still splintered on the floor where Liema had forced it open. "Please wait here," she told Sinak hoarsely before taking a deep breath, closing her eyes and stepping over the threshold with her light held out in front of her like a shield.
Oh Light... she thought, her panic rising as she crossed over into the cursed room. The last time she had come here, she had been channelling as she passed under the doorframe, and had been swiftly and brutally shielded...

Saidar did not leave her this time. She stood in the centre of the cellar, her eyes closed, savouring the joy of the True Source running through her. Her globe of blue light bobbed in front of her for a few seconds, then she opened her eyes again and began to look around the room. Light. Shine light on the shadows. Father always used to say when you were small that if you faced what you feared with faith in the Light, the shadows would recede and they would show themselves to be smaller than you originally thought. Remember that nightmare you had when you were eight? The one about the Trolloc hiding under your bed? You yelled and woke the whole house, and Father - instead of being angry - shone his candle under the bed to show you there was nothing there. Do that now, you silly woman. Face your inner Trolloc.

First she went to the table, where Gelbar had arranged his instruments of torture. The glow from her light picked up the deep layer of dust on its surface; otherwise the tabletop was empty. There was nothing there; Teryl Drenhald had bagged up Gelbar's tools and dumped them in the Erinin on the way back to his legion. In spite of herself, Elaryn gave a small smile at what the Lord Captain had said that night. Throwing away a Questioner's tools so they can never be used again will give me an enormous amount of pleasure... Well, that thought had given her a lot of pleasure as well.

Then she moved on to the big oak chair, still in the corner near the fireplace. Gelbar had tied her father to that chair, and had nearly got him to swear an oath to the Dark One by threatening her while she had been shielded and helpless. Only the intervention of Kiara, Liema and Zondion had prevented that. Kiara, normally so gentle, had pushed the Lord Captain back into that chair when he had seemed ungrateful at his rescue, and tried to Heal his shoulder where Gelbar's poker had burnt him. Elaryn's eyes flicked to the space above the cellar doorframe; she had finished the Healing process as soon as Liema had sliced through that shielding ter'angreal and freed her from its trap. Turning back to the chair, Elaryn leant forward, placed her hands on its arms, and began to sob quietly. Father, Father, where are you now? Will I ever see you again? When I think of what nearly happened here...

Wait, a voice said in the back of her mind. You say what nearly happened here. It could have been so much worse, so stop your wretched snivelling! Gelbar and his cronies are dead. You live and walk in the Light, as does your father. Why are you letting that late, unlamented Darkfriend Questioner ruin your life, your chance of a new home and a valuable alliance with the rest of tonight's group?

Elaryn's spine straightened as she regarded the big fireplace. The bodies of the three Darkfriends who had sought to ruin her and her father had been cremated there. They had long been ashes, as should her fears be. Slowly, she turned in a circle, her light globe bobbing above her head. This was just another cellar in another old manor in the city of Tar Valon. There was truly no sense of malice here - Gelbar's ghost did not haunt this place. The only evil spirits had been in her own mind...

She raised one hand to her cheek, and felt the stickiness left by her earlier tears. Time to get rid of those, she thought as she strode to the pump in the corner. Now that her fear had gone, she touched the wall behind the pump with a finger, altering her weave so that her light globe was tied off and attached to the brickwork. Saidar left her, and only then did she work the pump and take a few sips of the clear water. She splashed her face liberally, washing away all traces of her grief and revelling in the feel of cold water on her hot cheeks. She dabbed her face dry with her handkerchief, then walked to the centre of the room. Her heart felt light in her breast, and an iron band that had sat around her lungs for seemingly years without her knowing it had vanished.

"Sinak, please come in," she said to the figure waiting just beyond the cellar doorway. As he walked towards her, she gave him a bright smile that was only slightly dimmed by her weariness. He stopped two feet away from her and raised his eyebrows.

"I have faced what happened here, and I think I can live with it," she said. "I accept Rashim's offer on one condition - if the room with the skylight becomes part of my share, the pink wallpaper will have to go!" On impulse, despite the fact she had only met the Dedicated a few hours ago, she stood on tiptoe and briefly kissed his cheek. "Thank you for forcing me to face what I would have otherwise have left to rot inside me," she said, channelling once more and calling her light globe back over to where she stood. "Come, let's go and find the others."

This time, they left the room walking side by side.

On their way back to the others, Sinak reviewed what he had just seen, trying to make some sense of it. "Please wait here," she had said, as she went on alone through the broken door to a dark cellar. As her light vanished around the corner, he had stood in the darkness, alone with his thoughts. He had listened apprehensively, strained his hearing for any sound of alarm. Yes, he had decided he would give her the privacy she had requested, but only to the point where he felt comfortable with her safety. Too much had happened that night for him to let his guard down, and with strange cellars, who knew what dangers lurked.

No, the darkness did not trouble him. In darkness there was a peace, a solitude where a man could be alone with his thoughts without distractions. Sinak had never feared the dark; his personal demons came during the light, remembered shapes, echoes of sounds from a distant past. But not here - here he was able to reflect, to bring some sense to what he had witnessed.

He was puzzled by what he had seen and tried to understand. Why does she hold such fascination for me - I have known many women throughout my life - what is there about this one that is so different?

It was obvious to him that there was something about this house that had distressed her. She had been here before - and that earlier visit had caused some great trauma. It could not be the building itself - that was a mere collection of stone, brick, and wood. An inanimate object was not of itself good or evil. That good or evil came from those who had been within, something had happened here, and it had involved her somehow. If this was the evening that the group together had celebrated their raising to Accepted, Dedicated, and Manshima, then whatever it had been must have happened to a novice. But novices are not permitted to leave the White Tower! Yet her by her own statement, 'The events that haunt me here were played out in the cellar,' she had admitted that somehow as a novice she had been behind that shattered door, and had been a participant in some horrifying experience. What?

Instinctively, he felt offended, someone had traumatised a young woman, and that ran against the grain of everything he stood for.

No, Sinak had never been one to pick up stray kittens. He had heard too many tales of woe from those looking for someone to lean on to be easily impressed by another sad story. But here was something different. She had not been trying to draw him into her private agonies, if anything she had tried to keep him and the others from learning the truth of what nightmares had taken place here. His sense of justice was offended. No, she would never hear of it, but if he ever learned who was responsible, retribution would occur, swiftly and decisively.

He reflected on the house itself as he followed Elaryn down the stairs. Rashim had indeed offered something of great value, a great opportunity. He had considered the possibility that Elaryn might not wish to keep her share, and offered to purchase it if need be. He had not lived all those years before coming to the Black Tower by being stupid. The fact that he was an honest man did not mean he was ignorant of a good business proposition. Yes, he would give her a fair price, but at the same time the fact that there were Aes Sedai of wealthy background who would pay handsomely for accommodation of greater luxury than the White Tower afforded them was not lost on him. But still, together with those upstairs they had all shared the adventures of this long night. Somehow it would just not be the same if she removed herself from its result.

He gave a tiny smile. The silence back there had been interrupted - she had called him and as he walked to the light, he awaited her verdict. A simple facial gesture had been enough to ask the question, one look at her face had provided the answer. Her words had merely confirmed what he saw - she had been cleansed. Her brief gesture as she leaned up towards him had been a seal, a confirmation of ghosts laid to rest.

Back in the candlelit room, Jakram got to his feet. Since it seemed that everyone had agreed to Rashim's offer, the Manshima got up and walked out of the door to find Sinak and Elaryn to see if they had reached a decision yet. He stifled a yawn as he walked down a corridor from which a light was shining. A few seconds later, Sinak and Elaryn walked out of it, side by side and both smiling. Apparently Elaryn had shaken off her earlier mood of despondency.

Just as Jakram was about to ask Elaryn what her decision was, she said, "I want us to have this house. I accept the offer Rashim has made."

"Good," Jakram replied. "Everyone else also accepted Rashim's offer so we will be buying this house as soon as possible. Let's go in and tell everyone the good news." Jakram grinned as he held open the door for Elaryn and Sinak, then stifled another yawn. Now I can go back to sleep, Jakram thought happily.

The sharing their news, and hearing that the others had also agreed brought Sinak a feeling of relief, of a good night's work accomplished. As Sinak paused to let Elaryn enter the room ahead of him, he muttered to Jakram, "Yes, she agreed. But is she ever a shrewd bargainer - not only does she want the room I had my eye on - a great room with a skylight, but I swear I just heard her mumble something about me scraping down the walls in that room!"

As Sinak entered the room, he saw that everyone seemed elated with how things had turned out. But the mood also seemed quiet - the hour was late and his friends were tired. He gathered that they will stay here the rest of the night and then return to the White Tower after the night guard has change to avoid awkward questions. For himself, he was going to return to the Black Tower to resume the work that awaited him there. Yet as he was about to say his farewells and open a Travel gate back to his own Tower, he glanced out the window where the first signs of light were starting to show on the horizon.

No, the day is about to break, and I need to walk a ways to see the sunrise, to experience the dawn of a new day, and to absorb the events of the ending night before returning back to the routine of day to day life.

Sinak had come with only a jacket - too light for a walk in the early morning chill. He checked a closet and found a cloak left by a previous owner - old, but warm and clean except for some dust which was easily shaken off.

Ready to leave, he looked around the room one last time, and says his farewells to newly made friends. Astara - Damon - Danienda - Elaryn - Faneek - Jakram - and of course Rashim!

For Elaryn, the unanimous decision to buy the manor did not surprise her. Who, apart from herself, would have reason to pass up such a generous offer? She had smiled at the others, noting their tired expressions and heavy eyes. Jakram had been trying to hide a yawn, Faneek had dark smudges underneath her eyes, Astara's usually proud head carriage drooped slightly and even the yellowness of Damon's gaze seemed weaker and less pronounced. Rashim looked as if he wanted to put his head down and sleep for a year - unsurprising given what had happened to him in the last few mad hours. And as for Danienda... it already looked like the Dedicated was asleep, for his head was nodding forward over his chest.

It looks as if they will all stay here for the night, she had thought. But I don't want to - even though I no longer have such a problem with the place. I want my own room, even if I only have two hours before I have to get out of bed again...

Looking around at the people settling down, the Accepted made a decision. If nobody else was willing to accompany her, she would walk back to the White Tower on her own. She looked out of the big sash window behind Faneek and Jakram; the sky was beginning to show the luminous steel grey of early dawn towards the eastern horizon. She would come to no harm walking the streets of Tar Valon now, not she who had spent eight months on the road and another two in and out of the Blight!

"I am heading back to the Tower now," she told those who were still awake. "I think I can manage to creep past those guards on my own..."

Jakram looked at her oddly, then nodded as another yawn forced its way past his jaws. "You'll be all right?" he asked.

"Of course I will," Elaryn replied, taking the paring knife from earlier from out behind her belt and running a finger along its edge. "I'm not a Green aspirant for nothing. Goodnight all, see you tom- er, later on today, I expect!"

She turned and walked out of the candlelit room towards the chamber they had questioned Rashim in, a globe of blue light held out in front of her. The skirts of her worn blue silk dress swished comfortably as she strode across the landing and through the open door. Her cloak, white and trimmed across the bottom with the seven Ajah colours, was folded neatly in one corner. She picked it up, brushed the dust off it, and made it secure around her shoulders. Stifling a yawn, Elaryn hurried back to the room where she had left her friends, to make a final farewell and to see where Sinak had gone. She didn't want to leave without saying goodbye to the Dedicated who had made her face what she had feared.

That mystery was easily solved. The Black Tower man was standing in the doorframe, a plain woollen cloak she had never seen before draped over his shoulders, also saying his farewells. I see, he must have found that here. Thank the Light it's not white, with a golden sunburst and a red shepherd's crook! Then again, if it were, he would never have 'borrowed' it...

Once Sinak had finished speaking to the others in the room beyond, he turned around to see her standing there, wearing her cloak and obviously ready to leave the manor. "You are leaving too?" she asked, then silently cursed the unnecessary question.

"Yes," he said.

"Then, would you mind walking with me back to the White Tower?"

"Of course."

They left the manor in silence, Elaryn closing the heavy front door behind her in a way that was like a final seal on her coming to terms with that part of her past. She truly was closing the door on the terror she had always felt when remembering that dreadful evening all those years ago. And it's all down to you, she thought, glancing across at the man walking along beside her. Thank you, even if our paths never cross again.

Somehow, that last thought depressed her. To take her mind off it, she looked towards the eastern horizon, noting the greyness of the sky was beginning to become touched by gold. It looked as if the island of Tar Valon was about to be blessed with a magnificent dawn. Sinak held out his arm and she took it, her hand resting in the curve of his elbow. They walked for a while longer, their footfalls echoing in the near-deserted cobbled streets, then Sinak suddenly spoke.

"What do you know about the history of that old manor, Elaryn?" he asked. "I know nothing about it, seeing as I am from the Black Tower."

Elaryn's heart lurched; then she realised he was not asking about her involvement with the place. He wanted to know the usual, why such a sound old building in a prime area of the city had lain empty for so long. That was easy. The rumours surrounding the place were common knowledge in Tar Valon, and she had even stumbled across the deeds detailing its last owner in the city plans section of the White Tower library.

"From what I can make out, it has been empty for at least forty years," she said. "The last owner was a Cairhienin lord, the head of a House which had fallen badly in the Great Game they are so fond of over there. This lord, of the now-extinct House Bhorjia, moved his family to Tar Valon to try and recover, and reverse his family's fortunes.

"But this family was famous for being divided against itself, and the lord's sister blamed him for their failure at the Game of Houses. One night, the lord called a banquet for his family, and the friends and acquaintances they had made since coming to the city. The sister, seeking to poison her brother and take the reins of the House for herself, treated the brand of fine Cairhienin wine he hoarded for himself, never dreaming he would offer the last cask to his guests as a goodwill gesture. By the time she realised her error, it was too late, for the poison she used was strong and worked quickly. Everyone but her around the table that night died as a result, and she drew her brother's sword and fell on it once she realised the servants would pull her to pieces once she was unmasked.

"A dreadful tale, and why the manor has never found another buyer. It is said that the place is unlucky, but you have taught me tonight that it is possible to break free of one's past memories, and live. Again, thank you."

The Dedicated listened to her tale in silence, then Elaryn realised she wasn't being escorted back to the huge courtyard in front of the White Tower. Instead, she and her companion walked beneath the wrought iron gate into the Tower gardens. But Elaryn did not feel alarmed; she had the overwhelming feeling that she could trust this man, and the thought of watching the sunrise in his company was a surprisingly pleasant one.

To Sinak, the walk back to the White Tower seemed to come to an abrupt conclusion, a few steps more and they would be on the other side of the courtyard - the point of their separation. She had related the history of the house they had just left, and he had listened intently as she described the horror that had befallen others. And what of your own horrors - what was it that happened to you? This was not the time to ask, she had gone through too much already and there was no need to spoil their last few moments together.

And then, all at once, not only was her story done, but in a few scant minutes their time together would also be done. On an impulse, borne of an unexplainable need to extend for a few minutes longer the company of this woman, he led the way to through the heavy iron gate. Avoiding the moisture soaked grass, he followed the main garden walkway until they arrived at a spot where the land sloped down and no trees obstructed the line of sight to where that golden orb was about to spread its warm embrace upon the land once again.

"Will you watch it with me?" he asked, pointing to the eastern sky.

"Please, yes," replied the soft low voice beside him.

A park bench nearby promised to afford the best view, and it was here that he led her. He noticed her banded cloak, one that had been suited for the evening chill but was just not quite warm enough for sitting in the nip of dawn's early chill. He opened his own, a borrowed cloak made for a man much larger, and spread it to cover a seating place on the dewy bench, and then held it around the two of them, placing his arm around her slim shoulders. Silently, they watched as the first rays peeked they way over the horizon, each lost in silent thought.

Why does she affect me like this? Nothing we have fits - she is young and at the start of her career while I have a lifetime behind me. She has faced her fears and has a life ahead, mine are buried and have turned me to stone. She is a warrior, born to action and trained as a Green, to fight. I am an academic, a man of learning. My quest is for something in the distant future, her challenge is now. It does not stand to reason, logic is not satisfied. So why then do I waste her time? I should tell her to go and end this foolishness.

"Elaryn...?"

Why did she attract my notice? Three times tonight! The first, when we left the tavern, and I suggested something foolish. She was right and not afraid to protect her virtue - a woman of strong moral values and not afraid to defend them. Again, when we discussed using compulsion to convert Rashim. While it turned out that all that was needed was to remove the compulsion caused by another, she showed her determination to act only if convinced of the correctness of the deed. A woman of ethics and high standards who nevertheless was prepared to reconsider her views and act if the cause was right. And then, towards the end, she showed her ability to overcome her own worst fears. A woman of courage! One who deserves much better. Tell her to move on and stop wasting her life.

"Elaryn...?"

As she shifted her position slightly, he felt the press of the paring knife in her belt against his side. Remembering the intensity of her emotions earlier, he reflected ruefully, A woman of great passion! Arouse that passion the wrong way, and that paring knife will be used to fillet you faster than an offended Altaran with an empty blue marriage knife sheath. Don't give her cause!

"Elaryn...?"

As the sun's full light lifted over the edge of the world and caught his eyes, he was jolted back to the present. He realised as he turned to face her that he has spoken her name aloud three times. Her face, bathed by that solar orb's soft light, showed her strong profile and yet carried the softness of a woman's gentility. Her look was one of questioning curiosity. Stop acting like a damned donzel or you will not need to send her away, she will do that on her own!

E hine, hoki mai rä...

Elaryn gave Sinak an oddly bemused, yet gentle and elated smile as she looked across at Sinak. What had just happened after they had walked into the park flicked through her head once again in a handful of seconds.

What? she had thought as her companion opened his cloak and placed his arm around her, drawing her down onto the bench beside him so the expanse of rough wool covered both of them. Her shoulders had tensed for a moment, then had she relaxed, folding her hands in her lap, neither resisting nor leaning into Sinak's half-embrace. This had surprised her; she needed time to watch the sunrise and think.

In front of her, the sun had slowly but surely been rising above the horizon to the east. The sky had gone from first deep red, to orange, and then to gold as the first bright increment of the orb peeped over the dark ridge of hills. River fog from the Erinin had hung three feet above the ground, leaving the air above it as clear as if the line between dense mist and light sky had been drawn straight across with a pen. Once the sun warmed the ground the morning would be foggy, but at this time the difference had been clean, separate yet oddly harmonious.

The contrast is truly beautiful, Elaryn had thought as she had watched the sun, the mist and the dewy grass. Then her thoughts had been inevitably snared by the man beside her; despite the chill, a deep part of her recognised that she would never feel cold as long as he had his arm about her. Light, what am I thinking? We are totally different - in age, in discipline, everything! He must be almost old enough to be your father - stupid child, why are you entertaining these thoughts? she had thought.

Even though Elaryn had seen twenty-six summers, even though had her life gone according to the usual Amadician plan she would have been married and expecting her third child by now, she was still as innocent about certain things as a girl-child of eleven. Yet she had a woman's natural urges, butt her deep-rooted sense of caution had made her keep them in check...

Can I fool myself and see this man as a father-figure? she had thought. No! Nobody can ever replace Lord Captain Teryl Drenhald! I only have one father, and father he will be forever, even if he does decide to hang me with his own hands... Light, girl, you are becoming maudlin. It doesn't become you, and you know it. Think of other things... Like what? This Black Tower man again! Blood and ashes, woman, he's only being polite by escorting you back like this...

"Elaryn...?" she had heard for the first time. She had shaken her head, trying to make some sort of sense of how she felt. Why was she sitting here? Why hadn't she disengaged herself from Sinak's arm at the gate and gone back to her own room at the White Tower? Why had she allowed him to pull her along so - she who had never considered that any young (and there was the rub - young) man would find her and her past palatable enough to even consider forming even the most basic kind of relationship with her? Yes, she knew she was odd because she was not a man-eater by nature but still aspired Green - she had done her long division long ago and seen that most of the world's misunderstandings and hurts lay at the Dark One's door. If the Last Battle ever happened in her lifetime, she would be there to spit in the eye of the Father of Lies...

"Elaryn...?" she had heard again, yet still she had not fully relaxed. Why do you speak my name so softly, so wistfully? Surely you of all people must know that this is not logical - you whose discipline is a mixture of that of the Browns and the Whites! But life is illogical sometimes - why else would have I been born to touch saidar - a wilder? Why else am I a Lord Captain's daughter? Why else do I, a channeller, a Tar Valon witch, still care for my Whitecloak father? This is why I have never considered the White Ajah as a possible home - logic only makes sense of things like mathematics and science and to a certain degree, military strategy. An invaluable tool, one to learn and to be respected, but not the be-all-and-end-all. You, Elaryn Drenhald, understand and have the utmost regard for logic imposed well and without arrogance and hubris, yet you also understand that life can be chaotic and unplanned...

"Elaryn...?" Yet again, she heard Sinak's voice speaking her name. This time she turned to face him, wondering if she was wrong in what she heard in the tone of his voice. By the Light, a deep part of her wanted it to be true - this man understood her, where others saw a freakish Whitecloak girl! However, her natural caution made her close her expression. She tried not to think how handsome he was, how the rising sun landed on his darker skin, and how his gaze, although oddly guarded, somehow managed to warm her soul.

"Elaryn . . . something I needed to say, . . . might we see each other again?" Sinak asked.

She swallowed, and took a deep breath. Yes he does want to see me, the Light be praised!

"I am not going far for a number of years," she murmured. "I must stay at the White Tower for the Light knows how long - you know where to find me. I would love to see you again, and I have a lot to thank you for tonight. Drop by and visit any time..."

For reply, he hugged her to his side tighter and smiled at her. She grinned back, one arm reaching backwards and curling around his waist unbidden. Months, even years later, Elaryn Drenhald would replay this scene in her mind and wonder, had they both been less wary of each other and less exhausted, whether they might have shared their first proper kiss here. But that was not for that first golden morning - Elaryn felt her eyelids droop down as her head came to rest on the Dedicated's shoulder. Yes, I can trust him enough to fall asleep here and now, the Light help me! she thought as full consciousness began to ebb away from her.

For a few seconds, Elaryn hung in that strange place between sleep and wakefulness where human beings can learn profound things about themselves and others, yet not remember those thoughts properly on returning to the land of the living. The image of the Dragon's banner came to her for some reason - the White Flame of Tar Valon melded with the black inverse of the male channellers. The finest works were carried out in the Age of Legends by man and woman working together - opposite forces, yet acting as one for some of the greatest of causes...

Birds lifted their early morning song in a chorus heard only by those who shared the early hour - a symphony of nature not known by those waited for the remainder of humankind to waken. The small animals in the garden stirred, and made their presence known. Nature at its finest, no human disturbance to destroy the serenity. Far above, a raptorial cry sounded, as its source wheeled on eddies of air, its feathers reflecting the golden rays of the newborn sun. A new day had dawned, a new future had begun.

All Elaryn's thoughts vanished as she descended into the depths of black, exhausted sleep, the rising sun's rays bathing her face in a wash of gold light. She did not hear the golden hawk wheeling overhead, crying its own welcome to the new day - for now, she had had enough. Her insight, although it would be forgotten as soon as Sinak took pity on her and poked her awake, was all she needed for now.

Perhaps they would end up working together one day.

~ THE END ~