Chapter 8: Questions and Answers

I am not strong, yet perhaps I can help in some small way…

Asmodean

al'Lan Mandragoran rode through the countryside, calmly taking in the scenery. Mandarb went along the road at a slow trot, and Lan saw no need to hurry the horse. He was heading where he was due to a driving need in the back of his mind, but it would take a while to get there, and he did not want to tire his horse. He had already pushed it hard enough lately. He would make it to the next village before nightfall at this pace, and even if he didn't, it wasn't like he had never slept in his saddle before.

He watched the scenery intently, ready to pick out any sign of movement. He did not seem to be an obvious target for attack, but Lan never considered such reasons. His war was endless, would never end until his death. Until then, he was never going to let his guard down, since he wanted to put that particular event off as long as possible. He had many enemies, few friends and one love, and he wanted to be the first to know if any of those came looking for him.

Light, but he missed Nynaeve. He had never truly thought he could love anything until he met her. The thought of her was the only thing that kept him going, really. Why had Moiraine not passed the bond on to her? He suppressed that thought. The memories of what had transpired in Cairhien more than three weeks ago now were still painful. Thoughts of Moiraine still wrenched at him. And yet, he still could not truly believe that the woman he had known and protected for so many years was truly gone. No matter what he said about them both being soldiers in the same war, he had always believed in his heart that he would be the first of them to die. After all, he was a Warder and she was Aes Sedai. She surely deserved to have lived.

Shaking his head slightly, he turned his attention back to the road. He would fight the Shadow wherever he found it, whenever he could, and he could hardly do that if he was wrapped up in daydreams. He had no choice but to continue, and dwelling on the past would not change a thing.

Suddenly, a thin line of blinding light appeared in the middle of the road, paused a second, and then widened enough for three people to walk through abreast. Lan reined his horse in carefully and gave the hole in the air a guarded look. He was cautious, but he wasn't foolish enough to attack without knowing who his enemy was either. Nevertheless, he dismounted and drew his sword, staying focused on the two figures that emerged from whatever had appeared.

A woman came into view, shapely and beautiful. Lan tended not to notice such things – he only had eyes for Nynaeve, and not just because he knew what she would do if it were any other way – but he had to admit that this woman likely drew the eye of every male in any room she entered. She regarded him with a near regal condescension, but didn't seem to be immediately threatening. Neither did the man who followed her, a rather average looking fellow who seemed more apprehensive than anything. He eyed Lan nervously, glancing at his companion and rubbing his hands together as if trying to clean them. Lan sheathed his sword, but was sure to keep one hand on the hilt. At least one of these two could channel for certain; realistically, he didn't stand much of a chance if either or both of them attacked with the One Power, but there were ways of fighting anyone, if you knew how. And if you were willing to take chances.

The woman looked pointedly at the other, who shook his head. She sighed and turned back to Lan. "My name is Halima Saranov, and this is Corlan Dashiva. We would like to ask you some questions. Are you al'Lan Mandragoran?"

Lan stared back at her, wondering where this was going. He hadn't felt particularly conversational of late, with circumstances the way they were, but questions generally implied answers, and he wouldn't be surprised to discover this woman was Aes Sedai, which would cause all kinds of problems. She was not ageless, but then, she could be new; he hadn't recognized her, after all. On the other hand, he had never seen anyone step out of the air like that in all the years he had been around sisters, and that suggested Black involvement. Could they really be so foolish as to use such a weave right there where he could see, or to come so unprepared that they didn't ask his name first? He tightened his grip on his sword hilt. "That's me."

The woman – Halima – smiled, and took on a more authoritative tone. "We have reason to believe you were in or about the city of Caemlyn around three weeks ago. A man fitting your description, riding a horse that fits… your horse's description…" She faltered, but resolved to continue regardless. "…was seen by several people around that time. Would you care to explain that?" At this point, the man started urgently whispering to her, but she waved him away irritably.

"It may have been me." Lan speculated as to exactly where this was going.

"Did you meet with a gleeman named Jasin Natael while you were there?" Dashiva cut in, earning another annoyed look from Halima. At least this was starting to make some sense, though. It didn't tell Lan anything useful, like who these people were and what it was safe to tell them, but at least he could coordinate his answers to their questions now.

"I haven't seen him in months," was Lan's reply. It was perfectly true, as well. He had no idea what had happened to the man, though he had probably run off or something if he was being asked after. Maybe something more serious, for that matter; these people seemed to have gone to some trouble to find him, after all.

Dashiva looked uncomfortable. "Are you quite sure?" he asked, ignoring the hard glare that Halima was steadily giving him. He tugged at his own collar nervously. "We've come a long way to find you, Master Mandragoran, and it was not easy to find you or discover that you may have the information we need for our investigation. You cannot realise the effort we have gone to, or how determined we are to end our search for truth." The grim look on his face suggested that their troubles might not necessarily be of their own devising.

Despite the look on her face, Halima's words seemed to echo her partner's, and her voice took on a similar, near pleading tone. "If you have anything to tell us that can help, anything at all, please do. It's as much for Natael as for us," she added, almost as an afterthought. Lan doubted she had ever met the man, from the way she spoke of him.

Lan doubted now that he could do as they asked, or even that he would or should had he been able to. He was tiring quickly of this. Would they attack him, if he tried to force them to leave him be? They would probably attack him anyway, and kill him. He would take the risk. It was not as though he had anything to live for, anymore. "I can't tell you what you want to know," he said, dangerously, laying his hand back on his sword hilt with a practiced and very noticeable movement. "If you need to find things out so badly, I suggest you go and find out for yourself, and stop bothering me."

Halima looked at Dashiva; Dashiva looked at Halima. They seemed to be silently deciding whether or not this was really worth the effort, although Dashiva appeared to have a certain smugness about him that sharply contrasted with his earlier expression. Eventually, they reached an unspoken agreement.

"Well. We're, er, sorry to have bothered you, sir," Dashiva said with a nod and a small smile, both intended for himself. Halima had already turned away; wordlessly, she crafted an exit for herself and her partner, by the same means they had arrived. They neither looked at one another nor spoke as they left, although Dashiva's expression seemed more thoughtful than that of the woman.

Lan remounted Mandarb and rode away, with a tiny smile on his otherwise stony face. He had answered all their questions, and truthfully too, but he supposed he hadn't told them all that he could have done. But how else could they have helped them find who he was looking for? After all, it had taken him more than three days to reach Caemlyn in the end, and Asmodean had already disappeared by the time he had arrived.


"And that," Osan'gar commented, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, "was an even bigger waste of time than your last idea. It took us a whole day to find that man, and it turned out he didn't even know who Asmodean was. We've made a lot of progress today."

Aran'gar ignored him. They were back in Caemlyn palace, having gotten past Rand again, who was more than a little reluctant to let them back in for some reason. They hadn't much of a choice as for their next move, though. It seemed that Lan fellow had been right; if they wanted to find out what had happened, they had to look for themselves. Unfortunately, the killer didn't seem to have left much in the way of clues, rather thoughtlessly in Osan'gar's personal opinion. If you were going to kill someone, you might as well be helpful to the poor people whose job it was to catch you.

She wasn't going to respond. Perhaps he had pushed her further than was wise recently, but Osan'gar wasn't going to back down for the moment. He changed the subject. "We must have been over every inch of this palace, and we've still found nothing. I'm beginning to wonder if there's anything for us to find."

That got Aran'gar's interest; knowing her, she had been thinking exactly that. "You're right. If the Great Lord himself doesn't know how to find Asm- Natael's killer," she quickly corrected herself, aware of who might be listening, although Osan'gar noted she didn't mind calling the Great Lord by name, "then I don't see how we're supposed to find it out for ourselves. This is hopeless. What can we do now?"

This wasn't exactly the reaction Osan'gar had been hoping for, although he hadn't really thought about it, he supposed. "It's not like we have much of a choice," he added hurriedly. "It would be more productive if we gone on with it rather than standing around complaining about it." To illustrate this point, he opened the nearest door – and came face to face with a tall, dark haired man, who looked at him with an startled indifference. Osan'gar opened his mouth, and closed it again. He had been about to ask the man who he was, but he already knew. There was no doubt. Standing before him was the man he had seen in the girl's dream. The one that had been the key to their finding Asmodean's killer. And just like the man in the dream, he reminded Osan'gar, in an odd way, of Demandred.

Behind him, he heard Aran'gar exhale. "Well, it looks like you were right," she said, only a touch of amusement in her voice; she was as surprised as he was. All three stood there, like statues, for a few seconds, just staring. Osan'gar's mind was reeling. The whole scene was insane; he had no idea what to do.

The man broke the silence. "Who are you?" His tone was arrogant and demanding, which was fortunate, as it got an immediate response out of Aran'gar, who repeated the question, directing it straight back.

"My name is Mazrim Taim. But nothing more than that is any of your business, I should think," he added with a sneer. His expression turned thoughtful for a moment, though. "You two were here before, weren't you?" He continued without waiting for their assent. "What are you looking for?"

Osan'gar quickly took control, while he could. "You know something about the death of Jasin Natael. Don't you? Were you here? Did you see something?" He could feel the tide turning. For the first time since this investigation, he really felt like they was getting somewhere, and he might only have one chance to capitalise.

Taim seemed taken aback by the sudden barrage of questions, but quickly regained his composure. "Maybe I did. And even if I did, why should I tell you? You really think you can fight me?" Seeing the intention on Aran'gar's face, Taim just smiled. "You aren't thinking of trying to use the Power, are you? You would have to be insane. I doubt you would get five feet before al'Thor came for you."

Aran'gar returned his smile. "You are no more capable of that than we are, in that case," she said, in a voice even more sultry to how she normally spoke. Osan'gar had been too distracted to realise the man could channel, but he supposed she had sensed something, for Taim snarled and fumed silently. "So unless you plan to fight us physically, I suggest you tell us exactly what you saw."

He quickly retreated back to his cupboard, so Aran'gar and Osan'gar followed him. He put up no resistance, in the end. Osan'gar thought the man would have told them anyway, but it made little difference; the important thing was they finally knew the truth. It was just a matter of hunting the killer, now.