Elia followed the fancloaked form, imitating as best as possible the Gaidin's grace. Soft slippers hushed her own footfalls, but she was relying primarily on Ravak's talents. That irked her, even if she had no training in tracking. Plenty of things were irking her, to put it mildly. One of those things were leading her into the depths of the Grey Tower's library.
Ravak paused preternaturally before a barrier of saidar; a ward set up to warn of someone crossing it. Beyond lay the Brown Ajah's Archives, their private repository of knowledge known only to them. As important to them as the Vaults is to me. Rav sniffed at the air before him, seemed to find whatever it was he was following, and stepped to the side. His grey-blue eyes seemed both glassy and sharp at the same time. Elia could still make out the slight tremors in his vision, as he failed to find anything to focus on. She looked at him sorrowfully, as she plucked strands of Spirit from his mind. "Go now brother, and forget." Silently he departed, his cloak struggling once more to blend in with the background. She watched him go, the Gaidin never looking back or seeming to question where he suddenly found himself.
Turning back to the barrier, Elia reached up to touch the small amber amulet that hung in the hollow of her neck. Not a piece of jewellery; at least, not only that. It was no bigger than the nail on her pinky, but it was a ter'angreal. Very small, and very focused in its purpose. Still, she paused at the edge of the barrier, concern building in her chest. Nothing in life was certain, and when it came to ter'angreal it was doubly so. This amulet should stop the wards from triggering... but should and would were not bed fellows. Even for a Sitter, the punishment for transgressing the Brown Ajah's privacy and sanctuary would be severe.
She took a deep breath. Three... two... one... Her slipper crossed the line, followed by her leg, and torso, and...
Nothing. The barrier behind her was still in place. Nothing seemed different; no alarms were ringing in the background; no tingling of women embracing the Source in response. Elia let the lungful of air out, then moved deeper into the archives.
It didn't take long to find her quarry. He was a tall man, dark of hair and eyes, but pale skinned. He should have dominated a room, but the slight stoop to his form (due to his bad leg and reliance on a walking stick) and his demeanour made him strangely unassuming. Doubly strange as one of the most prominent Asha'man in the Grey Tower. As she approached him, he turned, dark eyes flashing not in anger or surprise, but in exasperation. The relationship between Elia Darrow and Murdock Mather was not one of mutual respect, but begrudging dependence on one another for their abilities. Elia stopped a little distance away, giving the slight bow that was respectful between Sitter and Keeper. "I wish to talk to you," the Shienaran said without preamble, "Are we alone down here?"

