Authors Note: I have been having trouble writing these next few chapters.
Since the beginning I have known where I have wanted to go with the story.
But now I feel rushed trying to hurry and get to where I want to be,
instead of merely telling the story. I apologize if the chapter still does
not feel right. I will probably end up rewriting parts. As always,
constructive criticism is welcome, and if you find any proofreading errors
let me know.
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Caemlyn was bustling when Lan rode through the gates. Vendors loudly proffered their wares, and customers haggled aggressively for the best price.
Snow had been falling hard for the last several days, snapping the unnatural heat. Townsfolk had run out into the streets as the first few snowflakes began to fall from the sky. But now, the dirt roads had turned into a thick sludge, trees began to crack from the bitter cold, and still the snow fell.
It had been close to two weeks since that long night. He had made good time at first, until the heavy snow had made traveling difficult. The girls could have brought him here much faster, but he had been rash. Two weeks lost, but he did not consider them wasted. Two weeks had served as a reminder the cost of being rash.
It had also given him a chance to think. Elayne had been so sure that the source of the balefire had been Moghedien. Why? Moghedien had always been a spider, a black widow lurking in the shadows. A bolt of balefire in the middle of the day was not her style, too risky. But Elayne was sure. There was something to that. How could she be so sure? Lan ground his teeth in frustration. Hasty. Too hasty.
Moghedien was cautious, always lurking in the shadows. And yet something had made her willing to risk exposure. Her desire to strike out at Nynaeve had outweighed her desire to remain hidden.
Lan rode past the street that would have taken him to the palace. Rand seemed to be moving between Caemlyn, Illian, and Tear. Lan had chosen Caemlyn for one obvious reason. Elayne. Lan had seen Rand and Elayne in the Heart of the Stone when they had thought they were alone. He knew of Rand's feelings for her. Rand would not leave Caemlyn for long. This was Elayne's city, and Rand would wish to care for it as he did for her.
Lan did not head for the palace. While he knew that Rand would come, he needed to decide on his next move. Moghedien would not be easily found. He needed to draw her out, and he was not sure that the pull of a ta'vern would be enough.
He led Mandarb past the Queen's Blessing. He would be known there. Lan had stayed there before, in that time that felt so long ago. He had followed Moraine to that place. It was there that they had been reunited with Mat Cauthon and Rand al'Thor. He could not stay there now.
The Horse and Buggy was smaller than the Queen's Blessing, but it was clean. The innkeeper was a round man. A shock of white hair capped his round head, which sat upon his round body. His green eyes twinkled from beneath his bushy white eyebrows that were nearly as white as his freshly bleached apron. While his words were formal, he spoke as if to an old friend, his tone warm and welcoming.
"Welcome to the Horse and Buggy my Lord. I am afraid that all of my best rooms are taken. Caemlyn has seen many travelers lately, what with the troubles up north and all. And of course there are those who come hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lord Dragon. That not withstanding, all of my rooms are well tended, and I am sure that we can find something to your liking."
"You may call me Master Andra my good sir." Lan replied, allowing himself to be led through the common room. "And I am sure that the room will be fine."
As soon as the door had shut behind him, Lan crossed to the window to survey the streets below. He had been careless before. He could not afford to be so now. He needed a plan. His eyes scanned the streets, not really seeing. He needed to be patient.
He spent four days in much the same way, going over what he knew in finite detail. The evenings he spent in the common room, listening. With mug in hand, his ears would strain, searching for the tales that would speak of Rand's return.
The Dragon Reborn, the greatest ta'vern of the age pulled the pattern around him. So Lan listened intently for signs: a man falling from a third story window into the streets below and landing without a scratch, dice games where every toss yielded the same points. He listened and waited.
It was day four when he saw her. He was in his room, gazing out the window as he did everyday, when his eyes came to rest on a young beggar. Slight of build, her face was smeared with layers of dirt and grime. Her dark hair was knotted, her clothes in tatters. She stood on the corner, pieces of cloth tied around her feet as protection from the snow.
He spent the next two days watching her, and thinking. It was risky, and would require a great store of luck. Lan had never been a gambling man. He trusted two things in life, his sword, and his Borderland's skill in using it. He needed a plan, and this was all he had...but was it right?
For two days he sat and watched her. His hands rested lightly on his knees as he perched on the edge of the plainly carved chair. He more closely resembled a cat preparing to pounce than he did a man, so intent was he upon the scene before him.
It was his seventh day in the city when he crossed the street to her, his cloak pulled up against the wind. Her eyes met his when he stopped directly in front of her, and she took a step back from the cold blue stare.
"My lady," Lan said smoothly, "My name is Andra, and I have a business proposition that I would like to discuss with you in private." He shook his pocket lightly, which caused several loose coins jingle merrily.
Her eyebrows had been drawn in confusion, but her face now flashed in anger. "Times have been difficult my Lord, but I am not some piece of meat to be bought an sold. I stand here pleading for help. Not to sell my body." She spun on her heels to leave, but his roaring laughter stopped her.
She turned to face him. The laughter failed to soften his eyes. "No my lady," he said regaining composure. "A true business proposition." She followed him slowly deeper into the alley, into the shadows, her fingers tracing the edge of the knife that rested in her pocket, warily watching him for signs of attack. She had been on the streets long enough to recognize danger, and this man with his cold blue eyes and face of stone was definitely dangerous.
He leaned in close and spoke softly, her eyes growing as wide as saucers. She stared at him for several moments when he had finished speaking. "I will meet you there tomorrow my lord." She replied hesitantly. "At first light."
"Speak of this to no one." Lan's departing words carried him out of the mouth of the alley. He turned a corner quickly and was gone, leaving her to try to slow her heart beat and steady her shaking hands.
There was still much to be done before the morning, and Lan weaved quickly through the crowded streets. He stopped in several shops, gathering the necessary supplies. He anticipated only one difficulty, and that was at the jewelers.
"I am sorry my lord." The jeweler replied cautiously, fiercely wringing his hands together. "It would mean my head to produce such a trinket. Surely there is something else that you would rather have."
Lan's eyes moved slowly across the store, taking in his surroundings. They rested for a moment on the cases before him. Faded blue velvet formed a bed for the shining pieces. His eyes slid towards the back room, registering the fraying curtains. The floorboards below him creaked as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. While the store was sell cared for, all of the signs spoke of better days past.
"Your head it would be then." Lan said, his eyes now on the man before him. "Then what price for your head?" The jeweler's eyes bulged as Lan set his purse on the counter, heavy with coins. The man shifted back and forth between feet, and his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips.
"It will be done within the hour."
Lan spent the long hours of the night pacing from one end of his room to the other. The candlelight flickered, casting strange shadows on the wall. It was a good plan, but dangerous. He could not help but feel that he was still overzealous.
He rode across the town in the early shadows of morning. He took turn after turn, until the buildings that surrounded him began to change. Now the houses where short and squat, more often than not loose rags were all that covered doors and windows. He stopped before the small inn, tying Mandarb to a tree rather than the cracked post. A room here would be free of prying eyes.
At midday she stood before him. Her skin had been scrubbed until it was raw to remove the layers of filth from her body. Her hands moved nervously across her skirt. She was attired in a dress of navy silk, plain enough for traveling but cream embroidery adorned the neck and sleeves. Her dark hair had been washed and brushed, and now hung in a single thick braid that ended just below her waist. A band of gold encircled her left ring finger, a gilded serpent clutching its tail in its jaws.
She fidgeted before him but her voice was steady and calm. "My name then, is to be Nynaeve."
...................................................................................
Caemlyn was bustling when Lan rode through the gates. Vendors loudly proffered their wares, and customers haggled aggressively for the best price.
Snow had been falling hard for the last several days, snapping the unnatural heat. Townsfolk had run out into the streets as the first few snowflakes began to fall from the sky. But now, the dirt roads had turned into a thick sludge, trees began to crack from the bitter cold, and still the snow fell.
It had been close to two weeks since that long night. He had made good time at first, until the heavy snow had made traveling difficult. The girls could have brought him here much faster, but he had been rash. Two weeks lost, but he did not consider them wasted. Two weeks had served as a reminder the cost of being rash.
It had also given him a chance to think. Elayne had been so sure that the source of the balefire had been Moghedien. Why? Moghedien had always been a spider, a black widow lurking in the shadows. A bolt of balefire in the middle of the day was not her style, too risky. But Elayne was sure. There was something to that. How could she be so sure? Lan ground his teeth in frustration. Hasty. Too hasty.
Moghedien was cautious, always lurking in the shadows. And yet something had made her willing to risk exposure. Her desire to strike out at Nynaeve had outweighed her desire to remain hidden.
Lan rode past the street that would have taken him to the palace. Rand seemed to be moving between Caemlyn, Illian, and Tear. Lan had chosen Caemlyn for one obvious reason. Elayne. Lan had seen Rand and Elayne in the Heart of the Stone when they had thought they were alone. He knew of Rand's feelings for her. Rand would not leave Caemlyn for long. This was Elayne's city, and Rand would wish to care for it as he did for her.
Lan did not head for the palace. While he knew that Rand would come, he needed to decide on his next move. Moghedien would not be easily found. He needed to draw her out, and he was not sure that the pull of a ta'vern would be enough.
He led Mandarb past the Queen's Blessing. He would be known there. Lan had stayed there before, in that time that felt so long ago. He had followed Moraine to that place. It was there that they had been reunited with Mat Cauthon and Rand al'Thor. He could not stay there now.
The Horse and Buggy was smaller than the Queen's Blessing, but it was clean. The innkeeper was a round man. A shock of white hair capped his round head, which sat upon his round body. His green eyes twinkled from beneath his bushy white eyebrows that were nearly as white as his freshly bleached apron. While his words were formal, he spoke as if to an old friend, his tone warm and welcoming.
"Welcome to the Horse and Buggy my Lord. I am afraid that all of my best rooms are taken. Caemlyn has seen many travelers lately, what with the troubles up north and all. And of course there are those who come hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lord Dragon. That not withstanding, all of my rooms are well tended, and I am sure that we can find something to your liking."
"You may call me Master Andra my good sir." Lan replied, allowing himself to be led through the common room. "And I am sure that the room will be fine."
As soon as the door had shut behind him, Lan crossed to the window to survey the streets below. He had been careless before. He could not afford to be so now. He needed a plan. His eyes scanned the streets, not really seeing. He needed to be patient.
He spent four days in much the same way, going over what he knew in finite detail. The evenings he spent in the common room, listening. With mug in hand, his ears would strain, searching for the tales that would speak of Rand's return.
The Dragon Reborn, the greatest ta'vern of the age pulled the pattern around him. So Lan listened intently for signs: a man falling from a third story window into the streets below and landing without a scratch, dice games where every toss yielded the same points. He listened and waited.
It was day four when he saw her. He was in his room, gazing out the window as he did everyday, when his eyes came to rest on a young beggar. Slight of build, her face was smeared with layers of dirt and grime. Her dark hair was knotted, her clothes in tatters. She stood on the corner, pieces of cloth tied around her feet as protection from the snow.
He spent the next two days watching her, and thinking. It was risky, and would require a great store of luck. Lan had never been a gambling man. He trusted two things in life, his sword, and his Borderland's skill in using it. He needed a plan, and this was all he had...but was it right?
For two days he sat and watched her. His hands rested lightly on his knees as he perched on the edge of the plainly carved chair. He more closely resembled a cat preparing to pounce than he did a man, so intent was he upon the scene before him.
It was his seventh day in the city when he crossed the street to her, his cloak pulled up against the wind. Her eyes met his when he stopped directly in front of her, and she took a step back from the cold blue stare.
"My lady," Lan said smoothly, "My name is Andra, and I have a business proposition that I would like to discuss with you in private." He shook his pocket lightly, which caused several loose coins jingle merrily.
Her eyebrows had been drawn in confusion, but her face now flashed in anger. "Times have been difficult my Lord, but I am not some piece of meat to be bought an sold. I stand here pleading for help. Not to sell my body." She spun on her heels to leave, but his roaring laughter stopped her.
She turned to face him. The laughter failed to soften his eyes. "No my lady," he said regaining composure. "A true business proposition." She followed him slowly deeper into the alley, into the shadows, her fingers tracing the edge of the knife that rested in her pocket, warily watching him for signs of attack. She had been on the streets long enough to recognize danger, and this man with his cold blue eyes and face of stone was definitely dangerous.
He leaned in close and spoke softly, her eyes growing as wide as saucers. She stared at him for several moments when he had finished speaking. "I will meet you there tomorrow my lord." She replied hesitantly. "At first light."
"Speak of this to no one." Lan's departing words carried him out of the mouth of the alley. He turned a corner quickly and was gone, leaving her to try to slow her heart beat and steady her shaking hands.
There was still much to be done before the morning, and Lan weaved quickly through the crowded streets. He stopped in several shops, gathering the necessary supplies. He anticipated only one difficulty, and that was at the jewelers.
"I am sorry my lord." The jeweler replied cautiously, fiercely wringing his hands together. "It would mean my head to produce such a trinket. Surely there is something else that you would rather have."
Lan's eyes moved slowly across the store, taking in his surroundings. They rested for a moment on the cases before him. Faded blue velvet formed a bed for the shining pieces. His eyes slid towards the back room, registering the fraying curtains. The floorboards below him creaked as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. While the store was sell cared for, all of the signs spoke of better days past.
"Your head it would be then." Lan said, his eyes now on the man before him. "Then what price for your head?" The jeweler's eyes bulged as Lan set his purse on the counter, heavy with coins. The man shifted back and forth between feet, and his tongue darted out of his mouth to lick his lips.
"It will be done within the hour."
Lan spent the long hours of the night pacing from one end of his room to the other. The candlelight flickered, casting strange shadows on the wall. It was a good plan, but dangerous. He could not help but feel that he was still overzealous.
He rode across the town in the early shadows of morning. He took turn after turn, until the buildings that surrounded him began to change. Now the houses where short and squat, more often than not loose rags were all that covered doors and windows. He stopped before the small inn, tying Mandarb to a tree rather than the cracked post. A room here would be free of prying eyes.
At midday she stood before him. Her skin had been scrubbed until it was raw to remove the layers of filth from her body. Her hands moved nervously across her skirt. She was attired in a dress of navy silk, plain enough for traveling but cream embroidery adorned the neck and sleeves. Her dark hair had been washed and brushed, and now hung in a single thick braid that ended just below her waist. A band of gold encircled her left ring finger, a gilded serpent clutching its tail in its jaws.
She fidgeted before him but her voice was steady and calm. "My name then, is to be Nynaeve."