|
He spent a great deal of time in the shadows.
This was Gaeran's thought as he watched the gathering. Maraan and Altrunel, Conde and Temad. It could have been a throne room or the hall of some great king they lounged in, but a pace beyond the marble tiles, the floor ended in a black void. Beyond that void, he watched unseen.
Elsewhere in the darkness, another watched. In and out of Shayol Ghul, in and out of the Dream, they had played hide-and-seek for centuries while the other Chosen slumbered. But he had always been just that much the weaker of the pair, and by that token - just that much the better at hiding. He could sense Zagal's anger now at being unable to find him, and smiled.
Within the elaborate setting, unaware of its audience, another game played itself out.
***
"What happened?"
"What happened?" A slender hand was swept through the air. "Daimon died, Daimon was killed, Daimon will not be coming back. You ask what happened to him, Maraan? The Dragon Reborn happened."
"But she couldn't channel." Another voice, angry, demanding.
"Couldn't." Conde paced the floor, the grey silk of her gown whispering over the tiles. "Couldn't is not the same thing as can't, Altrunel. Now, I think we need to assume that she can."
"Impossible. No one learns that fast."
Conde shrugged. "Try it out for yourself, then. I'm sure we would find the results... interesting."
Harsher words might have been said, for the pair were old enemies, but Maraan spoke quickly to forestall a retort. "You saw for yourself?"
"I did." Sprawled half in, half out of his chair, Temad looked like a bored schoolboy, but the others - all but Conde - were no less wary around him for that. "It was balefire, and saidar."
"Then are we dealing with the child Kyana Elane," Maraan said softly, "or with Amera Sune Elor? The Great Lord implied the former. Conde, you and Temad have followed her most closely. What do you guess?"
"The former." Seating herself, the slender woman held out her hand, a silver cup of wine appearing in it. "Save that she may learn faster than we would have anticipated... Her behaviour has been that of an innocent. Daimon made the mistake of cornering her, and she lashed out in fear, not anger. She may have Amera Sune's strength, but she is not Amera Sune."
"Then you advise?"
"Leave her alone," Conde said. "Watch and wait."
The others nodded in slow agreement, even, reluctantly, Altrunel. A gamesman, he would set their feud aside for the game's sake. For the moment.
"Then there is another matter we must discuss."
Conde nodded. "Zagal and Gaeran."
"Dead," Maraan said, "or only hiding?"
***
In the shadows, both tensed.
***
"Dead," Conde said, "only if the Great Lord lost power over them, and I doubt he did. But they will play their own game, if they even know that we have woken."
"True." Maraan nodded. "Wildcards, then."
"Another pair." Conde sipped her wine. "You will speak with the others, I assume." It was not a question.
"As will you." But Maraan's tone held a hint more of questioning. Conde's games had always been more complex than the rest of them combined.
"Perhaps." And that word held a world of possible meanings.
Maraan vanished from the Dream. Altrunel vanished. And on the edges of perception, so did another.
Three remained.
"You can come out now, Gaeran," Conde called.
***
Astonishment merged with amusement. That she - or more likely Temad - would spot him where Zagal had not, was not a possibility that had ever occurred to him. It was only as he moved into sight that he realised she might have simply guessed.
Slim and elegant in the silver chair, she extended a hand as if welcoming him to her home. "A long time, Gaeran. You haven't changed."
"Neither have you." A wry smile, subtly deflecting question. He had no desire for her to become too inquisitive into his past. "You still surprise me regularly."
She laughed, low and soft. "Then we surprise each other. I had hardly expected the... alterations, shall we say, in the outside world? But you must have become accustomed to them by now."
Another not-quite question.
"I have been awake somewhat longer than you." Information freely given, distracting from what might remain hidden. "Off and on, through the years. Every few centuries, I estimate, but there is no proper calendar to measure by. Zagal, much the same."
"Every few centuries," Conde murmured, nodding thoughtfully. "Gaeran, will you sit down? Temad and I have made our own observations. Fewer than yours, no doubt, but a sharing of knowledge may prove useful."
"Of course." He selected a chair, facing Conde and as far away from the seemingly-asleep Temad as discreetly possible. Assassination was hardly likely, here or now, but he had survived these three thousand years by being wary.
He had no intention of stopping now.
"And then," Conde leaned back in her own seat, "we can discuss Zagal."
|