Chapter 6: Forsaken Clues
Any of them would kill me on sight, now. If I was lucky.
- Asmodean
Demandred coolly studied the three women sitting in various different places around the room. He knew the place well, of course, but Shaidar Haran had given it a rather odd look on this occasion; the room was barren, with little more than a table and several chairs littered around for furniture. Graendal was stretched full length on a couch, it was true, but Demandred suspected that was her own doing. She rarely forewent any luxury or comfort if she could help it, regardless of circumstances.
Evidently she felt him watching her, for she looked up and gave him an alluring smile. He grimaced and looked away. He appreciated women as much as anyone, but he wished she wouldn't flaunt herself so. It was a weakness. Vice was the enemy, and he had beaten every habit out of himself a long time ago, except one. Besides, he doubted she would give him any of her more personal attentions; he was still ranked higher among the Chosen than her, after all.
Mesaana had placed herself next to the table, where she could control things more easily, Demandred supposed. Mesaana liked to be in charge of things, even if it meant hiding behind a figurehead; better that than to be the figurehead herself. She was part of the alliance Demandred had forged, but he doubted he could rely on her to do what was needed. As usual, she seemed completely lost in thought. He speculated, not for the first time, exactly what it was she was planning when she sat silently the way she did; the thought gave him a chill. He would not be foolish enough to underestimate her, or any of the others.
The third woman, Semirhage, sat calmly in one corner, not concerning herself with anything. Demandred did not think he had ever met someone so emotionless, in a serene way that seemed even more unnerving than the cold manner that the word 'emotionless' normally brought to mind. She didn't seem to care about anything save her pleasures. He could not remember ever seeing her upset, or angry either, except where Lanfear was concerned. He had known her a long time, and thought he could trust her above all the other Chosen put together, not that it meant much. She looked back at him indifferently, expressionless as ever.
Mesaana gave a start as Shaidar Haran strode in, jolted out of her abstraction. The Myrddraal was trailed by a man and a woman. Demandred recognized them as Osan'gar and Aran'gar, the two Chosen the Great Lord had brought back from the grave. Demandred rarely let such valuable information as that escape him for long. He still didn't know exactly what they had been up to in the week or so since he had learned of them, though, and he made sure to pay attention.
Shaidar Haran looked around, as if searching for something with its eyeless face. "Where is Sammael?" it rasped. It had an odd, discordant voice that put Demandred in mind of something rotting and crumbling, subtly different in some way to those of the other Halfmen.
Graendal answered. "He wouldn't come," she explained. She had already offered the same reason to the others, but Demandred was not so sure what to believe, himself. He couldn't think Sammael was foolish enough to disobey the summons from sheer contrariness. Could he have somehow known in advance what this was about? Sammael and Graendal played their own game, he was sure of it. Well, so had Lanfear and Asmodean, and Rahvin, too. It had brought them nothing. Such plans required trust, something the Chosen had little of, and he doubted Sammael and Graendal would even tell each other everything they needed to know.
Shaidar Haran grunted slightly in annoyance. That was another trait that marked it out. Every other Halfman Demandred had encountered remained impassive always, not unlike Semirhage, really. Shaidar Haran could be as well, when it wanted to, but it was capable of showing emotion, and often did. No other Myrddraal Demandred knew of possessed a sense of humour, yet Shaidar Haran did, as cold and cruel as the Halfman itself. Another reason to keep an eye open for it.
"He may come to regret that choice," it said, staring at everyone in the room with its chilling, eyeless gaze in turn. "My orders are as those of the Great Lord himself. Disobey them…" It did not need to continue. The Chosen knew full well what happened when they displeased the Great Lord of the Dark; Demandred had no doubt that Moghedien, too, would wish she had not stayed in hiding, as he was sure she was.
Shaidar Haran strode across to the other side of the room. Demandred's eyes followed the Myrddraal, but it was Aran'gar who next spoke. "We came here to question you, to see what you know of Asmodean's death." She looked about the room, clearly looking for the reactions of the others.
Demandred did the same, while processing the information himself. Mesaana seemed to pale slightly, and she sat back in her chair with an air of nervousness. Graendal, on the other hand, simply stretched into a more comfortable position, as if unconcerned, though her streith dress turned a light shade of blue; perhaps she did know something. Demandred looked at Semirhage, and again she looked straight back without any apparent interest. Her expression had not changed, but then, it rarely did. Demandred decided there was nothing to learn from her, and so he was surprised when she was the first to respond. "So he is dead, then?" she said, not looking at Aran'gar. "I half-thought he was still in hiding from the Great Lord."
"So the Great Lord has said," Osan'gar asserted, looking around apprehensively; the man had always been far too tense in such situations. He never would have been Chosen if not for his special skills. "We have been given the job of finding out who is responsible."
Aran'gar looked across at him standing by the doorway, then back at the rest of the room. "We think someone in here had something to do with it," she said softly, looking at each of the others. "We need to find out what you know." Her tone was not overly serious, however, and she showed it by making herself an unnecessarily lavish seat and relaxing on it.
Graendal sat up in her own place with a mock-affronted look, and then… giggled. "Such suspicion between the Chosen?" she said, a smile playing on her lips. "Why, it just won't do. We're like a family. If you really want to find out what happened to poor, dear Asmodean, you should be asking those who might know." Demandred stared at her. She thought this was a joke, with the Halfman standing right there. What did she and Sammael know?
"We are," Aran'gar shot back, eyes narrowing, but Demandred noticed that she looked to Osan'gar; likely he was truly in charge of whatever operation those two were running. Oh, the woman probably considered herself in control, and maybe she was in some respects, but Demandred would not have trusted such tasks to Aran'gar, and he did not expect the Great Lord would either. Osan'gar possibly was not much more reliable; it took a warped mind to create Trollocs and Myrddraal. In fact, the only person Demandred could think of competent enough to be useful for anything important was himself.
Osan'gar went to speak, but was interrupted by Shaidar Haran, who had already dominated the room. "I could have had each of you come here separately, and alone. The process would have taken much longer, and it would have been considerably more painful. Do not say the Great Lord never gives you anything." Now it was the Myrddraal's turn to smile, and Graendal's faded, replaced with a frown; whether it was one of anger or of concern, Demandred could not tell.
A silence fell over the room. Demandred considered taking the opportunity to interject his own thoughts, since he still had said nothing since Shaidar Haran's arrival and that could be construed as suspicious. Neither had Mesaana, for that matter, but that was hardly unusual. She was still sitting there, tapping her lip, her face the picture of introspection. Demandred decided to wait; his opportunity would come. None knew better than he when to take risks.
Osan'gar broke the calm, still clearly annoyed at being interrupted in the first place, but hardly likely to complain about it. He took on a lecturing tone and stance typical of the man. "We didn't come here to argue, Graendal. We came here to find out what you know. Each of you. None of you have been able to give satisfactory accounts of your whereabouts at the time of the murder; Sammael did, but that hardly counts for anything with him. Not that it matters. He is not here, and perhaps he will face punishment for that, but that is not my concern. I want to know where each of you were when Asmodean died, and what you were doing. If you comply it can help eliminate you as suspects from the investigation."
"And I just know how happy you will all be to have helped us," Aran'gar added with a laugh. "After all, we Chosen are just like a family, aren't we?" She reached across to Graendal and touched her shoulder, grinning. Graendal shook her head and jerked away as though bitten, glaring a hole through Aran'gar laughing face. There was a connection there, Demandred thought; when one was happy, the other wasn't. Had something eluded him? He didn't want to make the necessary decisions without all the facts, but sometimes you had to take a chance.
"I was in the White Tower the whole time. You all know I was. And I had no part of the games those fools were playing. You can't think I was involved in this." All eyes turned to Mesaana, who looked back at them with an air of defiance. "Well, it's the truth. I had my own affairs to arrange, and no time to join with your schemes." The last was directed at Graendal, whose frown deepened, but she said nothing. "If you ask me, they're the ones who should be bothering."
"That's somewhat inconvenient, don't you think, my dear Mesaana? Given the situations of Rahvin and Lanfear?" Osan'gar spoke quietly, but forcefully, making sure every word was heard without needing to raise his voice. "But what we still don't know is whether or not the rest of you were involved in Asmodean's death. That's why it came down to this. After all, you three were hardly forthcoming." Mesaana glowered at him. She had never liked Osan'gar, since the man had already achieved everything she had wanted, he supposed. As if another's superiority was a good reason to blind yourself to the truth!
Semirhage stood, towering over Osan'gar, a slight frown on her face. Perhaps that was due to the mention on Lanfear; Demandred knew how she hated the fact Lanfear had apparently escaped her. Demandred himself was holding his reservations open. She looked at Osan'gar, who took a step back. Semirhage did not need to make herself look fearsome in order to instil terror in anyone in possession of their wits. "Well, I have been far too busy with my own orders to worry about Asmodean, and you are keeping me from them. I have to work quite delicately, in difficult circumstances." Knowing the sort of delicate work Semirhage was used to, Demandred doubted even he wanted to know exactly what she meant.
She made as if to leave, but Shaidar Haran stood between her and the door. She stared impassively at it, showing no fear, to even Demandred's surprise. "I was not wrong, was I? Was I somehow incorrect?"
Shaidar Haran looked to Demandred, half ignoring Semirhage. "Where were you?" it said simply.
Now everyone looked at Demandred. He relaxed back into his chair, trying not to show the fear that was the defining characteristic of the Myrddraal's gaze. "I?" he answered, shrugging. "I was engaged in my own plans, as you well know. I spoke with the Great Lord not two weeks ago. He knows everything I know already."
Shaidar Haran barely seemed to be listening. It seemed eager to finish this meeting as quickly as possible, now. It looked at Graendal and repeated its question. Graendal fidgeted uncomfortably under the Myrddraal's stare, but said, "I was at my palace for the whole day that al'Thor killed Rahvin, waiting for a signal that never came, with my beautiful pets." She looked sad, as though wishing one of her pets were there to comfort her; Demandred's lip curled in distaste. "Sammael was in Illian, doing the same, I assume. If you want to know more, ask him yourself. I want no more part of this!" Her words came out in a rush, her cool veneer shattering suddenly. Her gown had turned scarlet. Why? Demandred felt like he knew less now than when he had arrived.
Shaidar Haran regarded her critically, and then each of the others in turn, save Osan'gar and Aran'gar. Osan'gar murmured, "I suppose we've found everything of use… for the moment. Perhaps when we know more, one of you will be more willing to talk." He surprised Demandred with his demeanour.
The others stood to leave, Demandred with them. He wanted to try puzzling this out, although it wasn't a very easy problem. Mesaana knew something, he thought, and possibly Graendal as well, but the sky would turn green before those two collaborated on a plan. Something terrible must have happened to Asmodean. Demandred cared little for that, but he did know that the Great Lord would probably be displeased with whoever had tried to hide this murder from him. If Demandred could solve this, perhaps he would be rewarded. Perhaps another of the Chosen would be dealt with. That would bring Demandred a step closer to becoming Nae'blis. Closer to meeting Lews Therin at Tarmon Gai'don. Closer to fulfilling his destiny.
"Well, that was a waste of time," Osan'gar commented once he and Aran'gar were alone. Shaidar Haran had left without a word after the others, leaving the two alone to plan their next move. Of course, they themselves were more concerned with bickering. "Have you got any more brilliant plans, then?"
"I have, as a matter of fact," she said, looking daggers at him but keeping her voice calm. "I didn't think this would work. It was, after all, your idea in the first place to ask everyone questions until we got some answers. That hasn't appeared to have done any good."
"And you have a better alternative, do you?" Osan'gar growled. He wasn't going to point out the obvious lie; she would just argue back with meaningless lines of reasoning until nothing made sense at all.
"Yes, I do. There are forces more powerful than intelligence and persuasion that we can make use of. That's what I suggest."
Osan'gar sighed. "Tell me what you have in mind," he said. He knew that no matter what this idea was, he'd end up going along with it anyway, one way or another – and Aran'gar knew it too.
