"You know, this isn't necessary."

 

Lifting his right foot backward so it touched his lower back, Aran pulled on it as he balanced on his left leg, stretching as he regarded his older brother.  For some reason, he had deemed it necessary to test Aran and to determine how able he was.  Admittedly, Aran had been a fair bit of a slacker once when it had come to his training.  Well, compared to his brother anyway, but he was quite certain he had just about caught up to him.  It had been some years now, years spent on the Warders Yards and years spent abroad.  Between it all, he'd picked up more than he felt his brother realised.

 

"It is necessary."

 

Short and to the point, thats what Aran loved about his brother.  It was the implacable part that sometimes annoyed him, but there was little helping that.  Setting his right foot forward, he wasn't surprised to see his brother do the same.  Ambidextrous, they hadn't been allowed to favour one side of their body over the other so leading with either foot was comfortable for them.  But, the contest had been simplified for them, no weapons beyond their body.  Wearing only leather breeches and boots, it left them little to grapple and the cellar was only a dozen feet in length and width.  A little bit of room to play with, but not too much.

 

It was Aran that moved first as he moved forward and jabbed, sliding aside the riposte that his brother responded with, fists and palms flew back and forth even as they stepped here and there or lashed out with their feet to try and sweep one another off the floor.  While they weren't trying to kill each other, there was the very real risk of broken bones if they didn't pay attention.  More to the point, Aventari would break his arm if he didn't fight back with everything he had, Aran knew that much about his brother.  The sorts of constraints that people had at the Yards weren't to be found here, not even between family.

 

Latching onto Aventari's wrist, Aran yanked him towards the wall only for the man to walk up it and launch off back into him.  Stepping back and releasing the wrist so as to avoid the elbow that nearly savaged him, Aran found that the best way he had to counter Aventari's attack was to slip into the Mayener style of defence, diverting rather than meeting blows.  Shifting his position constantly to deny his opponent a rhythm of movement to interpret, the defence was interspersed with sudden bursts of attack that were more remniscent of an Altaran, furious and straight without any deviation to the side.  Overwhelming offence that forced Aventari to break his own attack off in order to compensate.

 

That wasn't to say that the pair of them were untouched.  Indeed, bruises marked both their chests and arms and even a couple around the face revealed that they knew each other a tad too well.  Even as Aran was taken to ground, his legs scissored and knocked his brother to the ground in turn.  An attempt to take advantage as Aran got to his feet was met by Aventari's boot that sent Aran stumbling back.  Aventari's attempt was met in turn as Aran pushed off the wall and grabbed Aventari's head at the sides.

 

Falling onto him, Aran used his elbows to pin Aventari's arms back only to have a leg snake underneath his neck.  Whipping backward with force as Aventari jack knifed, Aran was seeing stars and he could feel blood underneath him even as he rolled away from the blow he knew would follow.  Getting to his feet, Aran was beyond thinking as he simply reacted.  Jumping above a sweeping leg, he somersaulted forward and lashed out with his legs, both of them catching Aventari as he spun and knocking him away even as Aran landed on his back.

 

Getting to his feet, Aran didn't have time to jump to one side as Aventari's counterstroke caught him in the chest.  The power of both knees hitting him almost drove the wind out of him, something he feigned as he began to sag on the wall behind him.  Falling to one side to avoid the coup de grace that was almost served to him by a foot that struck the wall behind him hard, lashing out with a foot knocked out his brother's main support and the returning crescent caught the man under the chin.  Not wasting any time, Aran half crawled half leapt onto Aventari and lashed out with an elbow.

 

Catching him on the head and knocking the man on his side, the returning elbow that Aran received knocked him clear and sent him rolling.  Getting to his feet groggily, one thought was going through Aran's mind, there wasn't a chance that he was going to say mercy.  Wiping the blood from his mouth, Aran caught the punch thrown at him from the side and fell across into it, putting Aventari into the ground and him ontop again.  Struggling to get a grip on him with one hand as the other worked at Aventari's ribs, his brother repaid the favour as they tussled back and forth, rolling on the wooden boards that were beginning to become slick with blood.

 

Then suddenly he wasn't there.

 

"Enough!"

 

Looking up at Aventari who was staggering back, Aran felt a small surge of victory, but it didn't stop him from getting to his feet as he spoke.  "Say mercy."

 

"If you want that you'd better be prepared to cripple me."

 

Proud bastard.

 

He was happy with what he had.  It was the first time that his brother hadn't been able to beat him, ever.  Not that there wasn't a chance he couldn't, they'd ommitted alot of things they knew from their fight, death blows that had no place in their spar.  Still, there was a chance he could put Aventari down and make him stay down, he wasn't going to let this opportunity slip by.

 

Taking a step forward, Aran felt his foot wobble and he barely caught himself as he fell onto a knee.

 

"Fine, enough."

 

 

Aran

Jester

"Twenty five right, eight high."

 

THUNK!

 

"Seventeen right, fourteen high."

 

THUNK!

 

"That was a little shy."

 

"Thats just the angle you're looking at it from.  Howabout we make this interesting?  Blind."

 

"Done."

 

Closing his eyes, Aran stretched in his seat before opening them again.  Aventari already had his eyes closed and was reaching for his pile of throwing daggers with black pommels.  Up on the wall before them, pieces of paper running twenty five by twenty five.  Aran knew that Aventari was as good a hand with daggers as him, closing their eyes wouldn't help but there were other ways to do things, or so he thought as he closed his eyes again.

 

"Howabout we match targets?  You pick and we both throw, then I pick, back and forth.  Might add some spice to the challenge."

 

"Right, seven and seven.  So, how is the witch tower these days?"

 

Tossing a blade, Aran smiled as he responded.  "You really aren't keen on that place, are you?"

 

"Bunch of fool women with more power than any one person should have."

 

"All people have power of some sort."

 

"Not them, they are vainglorious, foolish and quite frankly I wouldn't trust them further than I could boot them."

 

"Eight by twelve."  Taking a sip from his drink as he threw, Aran continued.  "Not all of them are like that.  Granted, there are some who shouldn't have the power they do, and some who are outright insane, but what would you suggest?  Purging them?  And they do good things."

 

"No, they're capable of doing good things.  There's a very important distinction to be made with that.  They could do alot, but they politic and hide in their tower.  Not to mention the way they split countries apart with their politics and favourites.  Your pet is a good example of that, nine by eleven."

 

"She is not my pet, I happen to like her alot."

 

"Do you now?  Next you'll tell me you've fallen head over heels for her.  You'll go marry and have a dozen babies will you?  Live a good happy life?  Yes, that sounds completely feasible."

 

"I've thought about that.  Can't help what I feel though, I haven't been with anyone else but her for the past few months now."

 

"What?  Monogamy?  I'm shocked, next thing you'll give up drinking."

 

"Its crossed my mind, seventeen by seven."

 

"Now you're just being silly.  Besides, you remember what happened the last time you fell for someone.  Yes?  Who was it who had a nice chat with you afterwards about the foolishness of it all."

 

"You've never fallen for someone?"

 

"No, that would just be silly.  Ten by eighteen."

 

"Not even a certain al'Coris?"

 

"That wasn't head over heels, though I was certainly fond of her.  The point is that I didn't lose my head, and the fondness remained rooted in a professional respect for one another as opposed to some simpering little thing that weak kneed fools indulge in."

 

"Not even aft-"

 

"No, not even after.  And no, don't ask."

 

"If you insist.  At anyrate, I do like her alot and despite it all I think something might work."

 

"You wait and see, she'll pick her shawl over you.  They're all the same in that respect."

 

"Not true, though there is a barrier."

 

"Really?  Never would have guessed."

 

"She worships another much like some of your followers worship you.  Doesn't leave room for much."

 

"Then you know its hopeless."

 

"Hope is hope and it doesn't need to rooted in reality to exist."

 

"You and your feelings.  You really need to rein those in, you also need to make a call."

 

"Twelve by four."  Taking another sip, Aran winced as he felt a scab on his lip break.  "I suppose thats the difference between us, you had the advantage of father's tutoring a bit before I did."

 

"...  I suppose thats true.  At anyrate, you do what you want but don't say I didn't warn you.  Some people are meant to settle down and have families, we aren't those people.  With the Dragon here and prophecy playing willy nilly, I doubt that we'll ever have the chance either."

 

"Prophecy indeed.  Makes me wonder whether we are doing the right thing."

 

"You'd rather the Aiel had the run of our city and our people?"

 

"Hardly.  What if there was another way?"

 

"As if the Dragon would speak with us.  He has a somewhat...  narrow, view of people like us.  He'd have us arrested on the spot, and our lords aren't united enough to do it.  Dragon or not, our people deserve better.  Burn the prophecy if need be, burn Light or Dark, all that matters to me is my city."

 

"Your city?"

 

"Yes, my city.  I'm near forty now and I've seen the Aiel come and go and come again.  I might not be some lord with title and land, but I know every step of this city now.  Its desecrated by those barbarians and I won't let it last.  Eighteen Nineteen."

 

"And the cost?"

 

"Necessary, or we cease to be Cairhienin.  I'll not give it up, and I think at this point most people wouldn't."

 

"And the Light and the Dark?"

 

"You know my opinion on that."

 

"I've seen alot in my time serving with a crimson cloak, perhaps you don't have the right of it."

 

"I once knew a man, he explained it to me rather simply.  For every sin that one of the 'shadow' has committed, can you not find similar sins from those of the Light?  Artur Hawkwing butchered thousands in his ascent to power, yet he was justice?  Thats not justice, all it is is power.  Light and Dark don't make a difference."

 

"I suppose Rasputin made that easier for you to accept."

 

"He did, funnily enough.  Otherwise I would have killed him."

 

"Or he you.  Twenty Twenty."

 

"Bad joke."

 

Opening his eyes, Aran turned and grinned at Aventari who was momentarily confused.  The white pommels for the most part had found their mark, whereas most of the black pommels were wide of their targets.  Then it hit him.

 

"You switched the daggers while we played."

 

"No rule against it."

 

 

Aran

Jester

"Another day or so and you should be ready to go.  Is my little Arry going to be alright?"

 

Smiling, Aran didn't even bother to turn around as he recognised who it was.  "I'd be happier if you came along with us, you could hold my hand the entire time.  Or you could make a wonderful little Aiel, I hear their women have tempers."

 

"Any woman around you is bound to get a temper."

 

Hearing Rakel place a seat right next to him, he turned slightly and grinned at her.  He'd been lost in thought as he'd stared out the window across the city.  He was glad to have her come and disturb his thoughts, they'd become a tad gloomy and never paid to dwell on such things.  "So, why have you seen fit to grace me with your fabulous presence?"

 

"Because you make a good footstool."  Aran grinned as Rakel put her legs on his lap, reminded him of a time when he'd been younger and she'd done it to irritate him.  No doubt why she'd done it, to remind him of it that was.  "Raevan has finished his work, Lucia was a bit of assistance there.  That blade of hers is a nasty piece of work you know."

 

"She always was a little fond of menacing people with it."  Well, not entirely true, but she was good at making people aware of deadlines and informing them as to why the term began with 'dead'.  Not that Raevan was slow, but more because he was certain it had amused Lucia.  Lucia had never been one to really approve of Dreamsellers or poisons, she liked her work clean cut so to speak.  "Still, she's good fun.  Deep down.  I think.  Our brother is the only one that truly understands her I think.  At anyrate, if Raevan is done then we'll be heading off soon I believe, should be a fun jaunt.  Have you seen Talon?  Apparently he's coming with us and I haven't seen him for a few years now, how is he?"

 

"Oh, the usual.  He loved the fact you were gone, now you're back he's irritable and he won't admit why.  So the three of you should have a wonderful love triangle to keep you occupied, really, I envy you."

 

"Of course you do, I envy me.  All that time with Talon will be quality time that you'll be missing out on."  Smiling whimsically, Aran sighed.  "I don't suppose there is a chance of swapping him out for anyone else."

 

"Not really, your brother values him after all."

 

"He's a little overrated."

 

"Well, he's been here while you haven't, that was your choice."

 

"Everyone has been quick to remind me of that since I came back."

 

"Sorry."  Looking sharply at Rakel, Aran was a little shocked.  "I'm serious.  I know that the others haven't been as understanding about it.  Its just, well, you know."

 

"I do, unfortunately.  But, it was my choice and I'm stuck with it now."

 

"Oh come now, was it really that bad?"

 

"It hasn't all been warm beds and kisses.  I had to go into the bowels of Shadar Logoth at one point."

 

"Well, wasn't as if it'd be the first time."

 

"Yes but when that happened it was daytime and I was only in there for an hour.  This time...  Ugh, I don't like thinking about it overly much.  Rasputin was there though, that helped."

 

"He turns up in the oddest places.  Still, he's alot better than Cyril, he just creeps me out."

 

"Thats a bit harsh, Cyril couldn't help the way he looked.  He's actually rather nice when you get to know him, his missus on the otherhand...  Well, you remember what she was before brother went and brought her back out of that madness."

 

"I should, I was sitting on the rooftops with a crossbow in case he needed me.  But, we all benefited from that didn't we?  Much like we did when brother snagged Quatalina Sedai yes?"

 

"Hah, how droll.  Yes, I suppose we did benefit.  Nevermind that Con had to wreck the agreement."

 

"You know, that wasn't all Con."

 

Pausing, Aran narrowed his eyes at Rakel.  "What do you mean?"

 

"Well, while you had a hand in making sure Con escaped, you didn't think you were the only one?  A few of us laid down some tracks for the hunters to follow, it forced them to split their attention.  Not that it didn't stop him from getting caught but he won free of that anyway so the debt was paid."

 

"What?  You mean he broke off the agreement deliberately?"

 

"Of course.  If Con left without informing a successor of the agreement, and all evidence regarding it was destroyed, then it became null.  Since the agreement didn't require the knowledge to be passed down on their side, it didn't infringe on Con's honour and he saw it as a way to remove us, the dirty blight we were on the Tower Guard's honourable record."

 

"Our brother never told me about it."

 

"Of course your brother didn't, you didn't need to know then and you were safely provided for since Con wouldn't finger you as having been transferred there."

 

"Makes sense but..."  Sighing, Aran shook his head.  "The agreement went that sour?"

 

"Of course.  Con co-operated with us as little as possible, and there was always the risk of exposure.  Better to close that window, we had other sources of information to draw on and while they have fine smiths there, they're hardly the only ones in the world to make fine steel."

 

"I suppose.  Still...  Wow."

 

"Cheer up, besides it might not matter in a few days yes?"

 

"Course it will, I plan on living.  No point in winning a fight if you can't enjoy your victory."

 

"Your brother feels differently."

 

"Of course he does."

 

"Because he's more like father than you are?"

 

Aran shoved Rakel's legs off his lap.  "Thats not even funny."

 

"I wasn't trying to be."  The edge on Rakel's voice wasn't something Aran heard often.  "You'll be walking into the lion's den with your brother and yet you're still carrying that deep inside.  I was hoping that you'd let it go while you were in Tar Valon but its never gone away, has it?"

 

Aran winced.  "Lets not talk about it."

 

"Lets."

 

"Fine, what do you want me to say?"  Aran glared at the woman whose studied expression read him far too easily.  "That I'll never be my father's son? Whereas Aventari knew him as a babe and emulates him so completely that my father would never have a reason to not be proud of him?  My brother became the steward of the guild as father would have wanted, I wasn't that person though.  I was the disappointment who didn't fulfill his expectations.  I left the guild and became a Tower Guard, I did abandon Cairhien when I should have been here.  I could have been so much more but I wasn't, thats what father saw.  You happy now?"

 

"No, but its good to see you can actually speak about whats going up there in your noggin.  What I was going to say is maybe father didn't have the same expectation of you that he had of J-"

 

"Maybe he should have."

 

"You did, but I doubt he did.  Maybe he had other expectations of you, maybe you should think about it."

 

"Why?  Little point now."

 

"Because I say so, and because if you don't I'll break your jaw.  Not going to sit about and just watch you sulk quietly on the inside.  I wouldn't be your sister if I did, yes?"

 

Sighing as Rakel put her legs back on his lap, Aran patted them as he acknowledged the point.  Little chance of arguing with her anyway once she latched onto something, she was like a mangy cur on a bone once she started.  Better to just enjoy the silence that was settling, it wouldn't be long before this last bit of peace was done and then he doubted he would enjoy such again.

 

 

Aran

Jester

The scene was one that Aran couldn't recall having seen for a long time, not since he had come to Cairhien with Aramina and before that not since before he took on the crimson cloak.  Their extended family, those that had survived the years, gathered together under a single roof.  In this case, they'd all come to a small manor house in the town that had long been a place for them to gather in the southern quarter.  Not only was it well maintained, it had a main hall for entertaining guests and holding functions that would suit them perfectly.  The furniture had all been removed save for a single table at one end of the hall where food and a set of cups had been gathered and a water barrel sitting beside it.  They would be here for awhile, a last chance for them all to be together before they had to throw themselves completely into their duties in the war they fought.

 

Sitting about in a circle, fifteen in all they were.  Aran sat across the circle from his elder brother, but the other men around the circle were just as close, as were his sisters.  From his left; Rakel, Jeanne, Remar, Joachim, Tessa, Cal and Marc.  To the right; Claude, Martel, Annalise, Martain, Cerise and Barret.  All of them from the street, binding themselves together as a family far closer than anything to be found in the city proper, the sort that formed because of survival and because they had no one else.  As Aran looked to all of the faces, he couldn't help but feel that there were some that were missing, like Anton.  And Jonas...

 

But, this wasn't meant to be a maudlin moment.  They were here to celebrate how many of them were still alive and to enjoy the time they had.  There were different ways they could have done it, but this was what Aventari had picked.  Not only for them to rememer each other, but their father who had taught them their way.  An exercise they had all begun as children and still used on occasion, it had been their father's way of training them all at once and testing them.  Everyone would have an instrument, most were drums but there were a couple of others for a melody.  One would start to play, then others would tag on as they felt they fit, or stop if they felt they no longer did.

 

Then someone would stand and dance.

 

But the dance wasn't just steps, it was kicks, punches, gyrations and as difficult as one could make it while controlling it.  One had to move with the rhythm, match it and anticipate, changing with it where necessary.  Once someone could do that, then mixed beats were introduced that overlapped, one then could then choose to move between them at will as long as the dance fit.  Lastly, one then moved with other people while within the beat, the challenge be to get as close as possible yet never touch, ultimate control expressed through motion and anticipation.  All the while, when someone surrendered the spot they claimed a new instrument, making sure everyone became passingly familiar with it if only to realise they were terrible.  Dressed in cloth breeches each, his sisters also had cloth to bind their breasts so they didn't move.  No jewelry, nothing else that could catch or get in the way.

 

Boom, boom boom, Boom, boom boom.

 

Looking to Tessa who had begun with the great drum, her soft beat was still solid and it gave the basis for others to join in.  Her 1, 1 2, 1, 1 2 was joined by Aran's triplet then beat, triplet then beat on his Tapan.  Others soon began to join in as Rakel rose first, her red hair tied back in a short pony tail as she took her place at the centre of the room.  Bending down as her hands hit the floor on the first beat, the next two were to measure her landing on each foot as she flipped forward.  Kneeling on the first, her leap and then kick filled the next two beats.  Punch, kick, punch as she slipped into the triplet, the slashing kick that she unleashed fell on the next beat and propelled her into a new bar, a new movement.

 

Content on his drum to watch as he kept up the beat, Aran smiled when Tessa got up to join Rakel.  The pair of them moving within each other's space, the pace of the beat began to accelerate until Rakel ceded the floor to Tessa, taking up the drum that had been abandoned and proceeding to establish a new beat that was slower, reining back the musical gallop.  So his brothers and sisters stood to challenge and sat to give others their chance.  All the while, Aran wondered whether he even fit in.  His family did it with such ease, practiced, they had never stopped, this was what they lived and it was what had made them strong.  Never allowed to think in one mode for long, never allowed to settle too comfortably, wasn't that what he had done though?  He had given up his family to wear his crimson cloak, to enjoy a life where, despite the danger, there was a safe home to go to and friends around you, and those who weren't your friends were generally not liable to stick a dirk in your kidney.

 

It had been a great gain, yet now Aran couldn't help but wonder what he had lost.  Maybe Crescent's revenge hadn't been sated, but if he were able to look into his mind now, Aran was sure that Crescent would have been enjoying the fact that he had caused Aran to feel so oddly out of place where he had once been home.  They were his family, yet the distance was of his own making and he couldn't think of how to make it right.

 

Aventari was up, having taken the centre from Barret.  His arms and legs flashing, in the air or on the ground, he never stopped moving as he slipped between the different beats, of which there were now three.  He felt confused, Aventari always went last, but then everyone else must have already gone!  He remembered them all up there, each performing their art that made them distinctly individual from one another.  That meant he was next, and last?  Why was Aventari giving him the floor last?  The eldest always went last.

 

Banishing his thoughts, Aran focused more on the music and Aventari's movements, their pattern yet lack thereof.  Shifting movement and beat, Aventari had always been the best at the game.  He'd taken to heart one of the lessons their father had taught them.  Up wasn't up, up was where your head was.  When you understood that, you could move in any direction and lost the restrictions that everyone assumed.  Just because one was drawn down to the ground didn't make it down, down was where your feet were.  Then when you understood that, you understood that there was no up or down.

 

Old ideas and new ones he had learned over the years had always been present in him, but in this setting, where the old would meet new within him, Aran felt like something had clicked into place.  Setting his Tapan aside, Aran stood even as he saw Aventari balance on one hand and lash out with his feet to either side, his other hand balancing him.  Falling forward onto the bottom of his forearms, Aran resembled a scorpion as his legs hung before him.  Leaning forward enough to allow him to get onto his hands, he pushed so his elbows were only slightly bent.  Even as Aventari leaned forward onto his other hand and twisted, Aran pivoted on one hand and lashed out with one leg while his other balanced him.  Stepping forward with his other hand, Aran leaned sideways with his legs as if to move out of the way of a blow then jacknifed as he spun, landing on his feet.

 

Almost within reach of one another, Aran dropped back onto his hands as kick neared where his face had been.  Leaning on his right arm, his left raised only long enough for his legs to swing under whle he leaned forward.  Pushing off both hands as the Aventari followed his spin to sweep low, Aran sailed over the leg and landed on both hands and feet.  Tucking his knees in as he swung his legs between his arms, his arms extended to allow the passage as his head and shoulders swung back.  Moving onto one arm again to allow for movement to continue, a thrust leg then became a step forward into Aventari's space.

 

Footwork was important, both for beat and for movement.  Position determined expression, a punch or a block, a dodge or a kick, both in the circle and in relation to Aventari as well as his position.  Every movement was an understanding, ever countermovement an acknowledgement.  For every sharp movement of Aventari's, Aran's were fluid and when Aran was staccato, Aventari melted around him.  Movement, expression, position, all of these things were their parts and the sum of a greater whole within the circle, the music, the room.  Every moment it continued, the brothers understood each other a little better, anticipated more, surrendered their differences in order to find a point where they both met.

 

It was because of this that Aran wasn't surprised when Aventari changed the game by making contact.  Not hard, just touch as his arms and hands stuck to Aran's even as their steps shifted and intersected with equal give and take in a shared acceptance.  The beat increasing in response to their closer contact, advantage was sought yet not.  Aran understood now why his brother had always won, Rakel was right, he had always chased.  To chase was to be second, to try and be first was equally pointless.  They were at the point now where one did not dominate, one removed themself from domination.  The movements might have superficially been the same, but the subtlety and intent behind them was completely different and the mere difference of purpose was what changed everything.

 

The tempo abated slowly, the different beats becoming one even as it died.  Their movements likewise slowing to nothing, as the last beat sounded they stood their, the back of their right wrists resting against each other as were the outer sides of their right legs.  Finished in the same position, feeling the same, hearts beating the same, thinking the same, Aran wasn't sure if he had ever been any closer to his brother than in that moment.

 

It was Rakel who ruined it.

 

"Lunch!"

 

 

Aran

Jester

The unnatural gaudiness of the outfit made Talon grimace, such frivolous misuse of resources was not a thing the assassin would find tolerable in any other situation. But then and there the necessity of the objective at hand made it excusable. He looked every part the gleemen, were the gleemen orating a sombre tale of tragedy. Talon felt it the wiser to resist the temptation of secreting weaponry about his person, such an act could only predispose him toward using them. It was in his nature to do so.

 

Passing himself off as a gleeman would by far be his most challenging assignment to date.  Seldom was there a need for deception. The “cut and thrust” of his specialty was—in most cases—self explanatory.  To fool an Aiel he would have to lower his guard completely, to appear even mildly alert would invite death.

 

Talon had arrived early, as was his way. A man who stuck to a routine soon found himself anticipated, which in his line of work was never good. It only needed to happen once to “end” a career.  Talon had found it useful to always be early, even if no one knew how truly early you were. On this occasion he believed that enough strife existed in the city to distract anyone who may wish him harm.

 

Aran arrived first.

 

Talon Sneered.

 

The ‘prodigal son’ returned, undeserving as all prodigal sons and just as unforgiven by Talon as by all younger “brothers.” The mere thought of “Jester” caused his pulse to quicken. Upon hearing that Aran had returned, Talon believed he could be remain objective ... but upon seeing him again—after  so long—all that he believed drowned within a riptide of jealousy and hatred.

Talon had seen—yes he had seen!—Aran and the other members of the guild, had watched from afar their camaraderie and kinship. He had felt the joy and excitement, a faint breeze upon his skin. But Talon had never been among them, been one of them. Never invited to join, but always ostracised, criticized: his sole companion the last breath, the spilled blood of the slain.

 

Talon had worked in Jester’s absence, worked for the guild, for Aventari; and here, he who betrayed his kin and family returns and what grim fait awaited him: execution? No. Pain? No. Open arms and the warm embrace of family! And there was Talon, still at the sideline despite all his hard work, all his effort. What made Aran so much better than he? What did Talon lack that was so important? His feelings toward “Jester” could be construed as nothing other than unadulterated malice.

Aventari came.

 

Aventari, second father, leader of the Rogues: he who not only offered Talon a life, but furthered his education in the “arts.” Through him, Talon had achieved a mastery he may otherwise not have survive to know.

 

His previous mistress, Courseia, had held strange views on the master servant relationship. Almost impossible to consider, but the agony of her rewards often outweighed those reserved for objects of her displeasure.

 

Talon had 'left' her command with the larger portion of his sanity, even if at times he could feel it escaping his grasp, and the Guild had found him. He was competent, and desperate to find a way to make ends meet. The Great Lord of the dark would always hold sway over his heart and over his allegiance. But there had been room for others, to a lesser extent, especially when tempered by need.

 

 

OOC:  Sorry, that's about where my brain fizzed. I will add more up tomorrow if you think it needs it.

 

 

Talon.

 

Aran still disagreed with having the man along if only because the man disagreed with him.  Even as he approached, Aran noted the sneer but he had little to say to it, in fact he had nothing to say at all.  Then again he had never completely agreed with the people that his brother had chosen to affiliate with, even if more often than not there had been little choice in the matter.  This time there had, his brother had found Talon trying to ply his trade in the city and he'd seized him, made him disappear from the world.  It hadn't taken much to discover his faith, but instead of killing him, Aventari had given him a place by his side instead.  Something Aran could never agree with, Darkfriends had their own special agenda that made them untrustworthy.

 

But Aventari had never brought him into the Guild proper, he had kept him on the outside of it.  It was useful for Aventari to have someone on the outside, someone that most people would not know except others that Aventari trusted enough that he felt he would never have to set Talon upon them.  Hence Aran was acquainted with the little stoat, of whom he was always wary and had little time for.  In turn, Talon had a problem with him, a few no doubt, so their dislike had remained mutual and unchanged even during his years in Tar Valon.

 

But, there would be no voicing of that dislike, they were at the Eastern Gate where they were gathering for a both important and suicidal mission.  There wasn't much traffic flowing in or out, but they weren't too conspicuous as being out of place.  They wouldn't be the first entertainers to leave the city for the Aiel camps, the Aiel had thieved their 'fifth' from the city and they were more than happy to spend it on Gleeman and Peddlers and others who would satisfy their needs.  Their instruments in hand and their fine plumage marked them as just a couple more about to set out and make their fortune.

 

Or rather, a trio.

 

Smiling as Aventari approached, he waved at his brother who waved back in turn.  Finally, someone that Aran wanted to be around and someone that would keep Talon leashed.  If there was one thing he couldn't fault in Talon, that was the almost single minded devotion the man had for his brother at times, even if Aran personally distrusted it he had yet to see Talon set a foot out of place.  If he had, Aran would have taken the excuse right then and there to make sure that his brother need never be concerned with him ever again.

 

United, they made their way unmolested and untroubled by the guard as they left Cairhien proper for the ruins of Foregate.  Even after all this time, the burnt husks of dead homes were scattered before Cairhien's walls like the skeletons of abandoned dead upon an old battlefield.  Amongst those dead Aran recognised many faces, places of his childhood that had been his shelter as he had lived and scrapped together a living as best he could with other children like him who had lost their parents to the Aiel scourge and the disorder that had gripped the city for years afterward. 

 

A life that had been cleansed by fires and spears from beyond the Dragonwall.

 

If there had ever been any doubts in Aran's mind about what they were doing, of the fight against the Aiel, they would have been banished by this sight.  Homes destroyed, and he knew that many had died in them without warning, the Shaido a tide of black veils, cruel spears and torches.  It mattered little that the Aiel that remained were not the Shaido, they were also killing the Cairhienin but much more slowly.  Nor did they limit themselves to killing the Cairhien with their weapons, they tried to destroy the very soul of Cairhien with their occupation. 

 

If Cairhien could not live free, then it would die free.

 

 

Aran

Jester