Chapter 5: Drawing the Daggers
When a woman says she will obey you, of her own will, it is time to sleep lightly and watch your back.
– Asmodean
"So this harp belonged to Natael, did it?" Osan'gar half mused, holding the thing in one hand and studying it. Rand nodded, but Osan'gar pretended not to notice. He could see Rand regarding him out of the corner of his eye, but he kept his own eyes on the harp. It was rather unnecessarily lavish, but then, that was typical of the man. He was a man of few doubts; he disliked them intensely. "So, perhaps you believe me now. Jasin Natael was murdered in this very room."
It was the small, more or less abandoned storeroom that they were standing in. At least, so Osan'gar judged from the sheer amount of dust in there; he had got a servant to clean the place a bit before venturing inside to avoid a coughing fit. As it was, he had found little of use in there. It would have helped if he had known what he was looking for, but he had still hoped to find something. A bloodstained knife. A note saying 'It was al'Thor, signed Asmodean'. Anything.
Rand's glare changed to a look of puzzlement as he turned back to the problem at hand. "So why would Natael come into this room?" he wondered aloud. Neither man seemed to want to accept the other's assistance, yet both gave it freely. "I doubt anyone has been in here in a month."
"Convenient for the killer, don't you think?" Osan'gar spread his arms, encompassing the small room. It barely fit the two of them. "Perhaps that harp would never have been found if I hadn't come. At the least, there was likely no one around when the murderer struck. Maybe he was lured in here, or he may even have wandered in by accident. I don't expect he knew his way around the palace very well?"
"We only arrived that afternoon," said Rand, more as if he were stating a fact in passing than answering a question. Then he hesitated. "So what are you going to do, then? Have you found anything useful in here? Were you staring at that harp for any particular reason?"
"Well, no," Osan'gar admitted. He tilted his head to one side and started dry-washing his hands, too deep in thought to notice. "There doesn't seem to be a body. We must have searched the entire building by now. I don't think we're going to find anything else, so there isn't much else we can do except ask people what they know." He looked at Rand again. "So, what do you know?"
Rand glared at him again, clearly not liking what he was hearing; Osan'gar hadn't even tried to hide the slight accusation in his voice. "I already told you all I know. If you think I'm holding something back because I had something to do with this…" He embraced saidin, and Osan'gar swallowed.
"I meant, is there anything else at all that could be helpful? Anything you can remember?" He really tried not to sound pleading. "Was there anyone in particular who might have wanted to kill him? Anyone who might have had reason to want him dead? I need you to help me."
Rand gave him an odd look – perhaps not surprisingly, given the circumstances – and shook his head. "Natael was arrogant, and I doubt anyone liked him a great deal, but I don't think any of my party would have had reason enough to kill him."
Osan'gar looked at him wonderingly, and then remembered that he still hadn't named Asmodean. Of course no one would want to kill Jasin Natael, least of all the Forsaken – they wouldn't even know who he was, or consider him a threat of any kind. He wasn't sure whether Rand was trying to trick him or just confuse him, but either way, he was going to have to take a risk. Hesitantly, he cleared his throat. "Are you sure that no one else would have a reason to kill him? Maybe – someone left some sign – of some kind. Some sort of message. Were there other attacks?" There had to be something else!
The two men just eyed each other silently for a few moments. He'll just tell me what I need to know. He wouldn't – surely he wouldn't – he would, wouldn't he. He bloody would. He usually kept such language of his mind and his tongue, but he was proved right when Rand quietly said, "You knew he was Asmodean. Didn't you?"
Well, there was nothing for it now but to… try not to give a definite answer. "I may have had an inkling," he admitted nervously, hating himself. He still had not gotten over his blunder with Rahvin earlier. He peered at Rand nervously, trying to see the man's reaction without looking like he was, but he hadn't the skill of such things.
"How did you know?" Rand flew at him, seizing his collar and pressing him against the door. It was clearly a demand, not a question. "I only knew of two others who knew, and they're both dead. How did you find out?" Osan'gar's mouth worked, but no sound came out; his throat felt dry. He had never been so consciously aware that this man could kill him. "Who told you? Talk!"
Finally Osan'gar was able to speak, although it came out sounding strangled. "Just calm down, will you? I can hardly answer you with you half choking me!" As if realising for the first time what he was doing, Rand slowly released him. After a moment spent regaining his composure, Osan'gar continued. "As I already told you, I received a lot of information from my employer. That was part of it, in a way; a lot of it I had to work out myself." True enough, for sure. Shaidar Haran was not exactly helpful regarding anything they tried to do. "And as I told you, I don't know who is paying me, but I suppose that much gold will pay for that sort of secrecy. Now please, will you help me? Every time you snap at me like this, you set back my investigation another day. I assume you are as eager to get to the bottom of this as I am?" He almost wished Aran'gar was there; she could handle some situations better than he could, as he was willing to admit to himself. Everyone had different skills; no one could match his knowledge, especially not in this Age. And Aran'gar had already demonstrated that she was mastering some skills very unique to women, in Kandor. Changing mannerisms, indeed.
Rand was not sated by that, however. "Why did you hold this back before, then? If you had admitted that you knew about Asmodean before, you could have saved us both time and effort."
"Because I suspected that you would react like this. And I was right, apparently." He managed to suppress a sneer. It was well to show confidence, but he had already made the mistake of going too far with Aran'gar, and he would not make it again. "I need your help. I'm not going to say something that would bias you against me. Now, will you answer my questions or not?"
Rand scowled at him, but Osan'gar's words seemed to be getting through. Strange. They had sounded trite even in his own ears. "Fine. What do you want to know?"
"Did you have any reason to suspect that someone might have wanted Natael – Asmodean – dead?" Osan'gar repeated. "Were messages left, perhaps? Did it seem that someone was trying to kill him in particular, even for no reason?" There had to be something, surely.
Rand opened his mouth to reply, but suddenly, his head whipped around and he seemed to stare straight through a wall at something. Osan'gar paused, confused, until he sensed what he had been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice before; someone was channelling saidin inside the palace! He was thankful for it, too, since al'Thor would have seen him sense it and realise that he could channel, which he probably wouldn't like given what he had just said. Before Osan'gar could say anything, the other man had thrown open the door and was striding out into the corridor in the direction of the channelling. Osan'gar let out a small yelp and hurriedly followed.
The weave had not been far away; a Travelling weave, Osan'gar thought, though he doubted al'Thor knew enough to recognise it. Rand turned a corner quickly – and almost ran into Aran'gar, who had just been rounding the corner herself. Osan'gar almost howled. "What are you doing here?"
Rand didn't appear to notice that Osan'gar had even followed. "Excuse me, but did you see a man standing here a moment ago?" Of course; he could not know that the woman standing in front of him could have anything to do with saidin.
Aran'gar fluttered her eyelashes in the most pathetic way, and when she spoke, she managed to sound sultry and faint at once; she must have been practicing. "Oh yes, I saw a man just along the corridor there. But he did something – I did not see what – and he seemed to just step into thin air, and disappear!" She looked ready to collapse right there and then, all without actually losing her balance or composure. "I've never seen anything like it, sir! Was that… a man channelling the Power?"
Osan'gar could not believe the man was actually falling for all this! On the other hand, all Rand gave for response was a grimace and a quick, "Yes," before turning away and giving out commands to the ubiquitous Aiel. Osan'gar went to follow, but stopped himself; it was pointless, now. He rounded on Aran'gar. "What did you do that for, you fool?" he snarled, giving her a piercing look. "I was just about to finally get something useful out of him!"
"I had to get in here somehow, and those savages at the door did not look very welcoming," she answered, looking unruffled. "Besides, I doubt you would have found anything constructive if he had just confessed. Myself, I have been talking to some… contacts… in Caemlyn that I was told about. They had some interesting information for me. And I have planned out our next course of action, too, though we will need the help of our – employer." She probably meant Shaidar Haran, which he liked even less than everything else she had said. She was intolerable, sometimes. "And I don't see how standing around here is helping. I'm leaving. Coming?"
Osan'gar quickly stepped forward to stop her from channelling again. "You are a fool. I won't be surprised if you get us killed before this is through. We'll leave by more conventional means first, and then you can tell me of this brilliant plan of yours."
Aran'gar smiled at him, invitingly, but he knew what to accept if he took the bait. "A wonderful idea, Osan'gar. Please, lead the way."
Mazrim Taim stepped out of the cupboard he had been using as a hiding place. It definitely appeared that he had picked the wrong day to scout this place out. Not that it was the first time he had ventured into the place, or the first time he had seen a strange encounter – he still remembered the other, of course; odd, to say the least, but not easy to forget – but he wanted to have the measure of this place before he set any of his other plans in motion.
He watched as the man and the woman left, still arguing. He had no idea how the woman had managed to channel saidin, and he didn't plan to waste his time investigating the impossible. He had far more immediate concerns, such as the fact that whatever it was, it had drawn attention back to him. Just when he thought he was safe, too. His temper flared, though the woman who had given him away had already disappeared around a corner. He couldn't use the Power, of course, but that wasn't a problem if he felt angry enough; his tall, powerfully built frame would easily be enough to deal with her or the man she was with.
He decided against it. Too risky. There was no way of telling if the woman would try whatever trick it was she had used in the first place. Taim had his own goals to work towards, and willing to use whatever means necessary to achieve them; he hadn't come straight to Caemlyn on a whim after escaping the Aes Sedai and Bashere's army. His chance of success had suffered setbacks as a result of the gamble he had taken today, but he would not be denied.
Taim saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and retreated back into the storeroom. Al'Thor was probably having the palace searched again, no matter how foolish or futile such an endeavour was, although he couldn't blame the man for not trusting that woman. After all, he had seen her step out of the Gateway in front of his very eyes. One to keep your wits about you when faced with, he suspected, and not to let your eye get drawn to. He would remember that if he met her again. Taim grimaced as he settled down to wait.
