The Grey Tower

Keiran Taravin Dedicated on the run! “Bad idea, Keiran.” Kaci had that look in her eyes, the stubborn smoldering that meant—at least in her mind—that she was right and Keiran was wrong.

“Kaci, we need him. I can’t kill Rorland on my own, if that’s even his real name. Not even if we isolate him from the others. He is too strong and far too practiced. You’ve seen the trail of bodies he’s left. That man knows ways to kill with the One Power that you and I can’t even dream of.”

“Maybe you just lack imagination,” she quipped. Keiran felt the familiar onslaught of sarcasm through the bond.

“You have more than enough of that for the two of us. If your thoughts turn any more sinister the Dark One himself will extend you an invitation to the Shadow.” Keiran grinned at the scowl Kaci gave him in response. It had been months since Keiran bonded her and neither of them were used to it. The bond magnified the connection they felt as twins more than either of them ever expected. Kaci had convinced Keiran that their mission was more important than the consequences they might incur for breaking Tower rules. To be fair, she didn’t have to twist his arm much. They already broke half a dozen Tower rules by disappearing without a word.

Kaci sighed and turned her back to Keiran. Slowly, she refilled the glass of wine that she’d emptied twice so far. A crisp breeze swept through the open balcony, carrying with it the pleasant scent of autumn leaves and wood smoke. The smells were heightened as Keiran maintained his hold on saidin. His continued lessons with Asha’man Phil had done wonders for his confidence with the Power. The amount he could hold was nearly double what it was when he had left the Tower. He wasn’t holding nearly that much now, just a trickle. The ward against eavesdropping was astonishingly simple for its usefulness.

Keiran joined Kaci, crossing his arms and resting his elbows on the low, cold stone wall. The courtyard was beautiful this time of year. The bright colors from the flowers in summer gave way to the vibrant hues of changing leaves. It wouldn’t be long before they too faded to nothing, leaving bare branches and chill air. At least the roses were still in full bloom, much to Kaci’s pleasure. They were her favorites, brought in secretly from one of their family’s country estates. A lavish expense, but one that paled in comparison to the Palace they had purchased to bolster their new identities.

Kaci was now Lady Morigan of Cairhien, the bastard daughter of a powerful Cairhienen nobleman. Kaci had masterfully woven herself onto the tongues of every noble in Cairhien, shaping the gossip into her favor at every turn. If you ask any well connected Cairhienen, Lady Morigan found a fortune in sole ownership of the richest gold mine between Tar Valon and Cairhien. Now she has returned, determined to take her rightful place among the Great Houses, proving to her father that she is worthy of his name. The name that is now the best kept secret in Cairhien. Half of the men who lead the Great Houses are convinced she is their daughter. The King himself has suggested as much over a half dozen dinners held in her honor.

Keiran had stayed in hiding. His presence would raise too many questions about the features he shared with his sister. Mostly, he spent his days practicing the One Power in a room Phil had warded to mask his channeling.

“I’m going to ask him, Kaci. I know you think you can kill Rorland on your own, but I won’t risk it. Jaryd Kosari is the most powerful Asha’man in the Tower. We need him.”

“Why not just do that thing you did to the Fade? You told Asha’man Phil you didn’t know how to do it again, but I know from the bond you were lying.” Keiran’s face heated. He felt guilty about the lie, but a little research in the Tower Library told a grim tale of Aes Sedai and Asha’man being stilled or gentled for using Baelfire. Keiran trusted Asha’man Phil more than anyone else in the Tower, but he had sworn the oaths.

Keiran locked eyes with Kaci. Slowly, he shook his head in disagreement. “Baelfire nearly destroyed the world once. If it is used on someone like Rorland, who knows what could happen? He has killed so many…” Kaci grabbed Keiran in a tight hug. He knew she could feel his fear.

“Okay. Do it.” She let him go and mussed his hair. “Bring him here to plan our move. I’ll get Asha’man Phil and meet you below?” Keiran nodded, let the ward against eavesdropping dissipate, and seized more of saidin. He had been to Jaryd’s chambers for a lesson in wards. Firmly grasping the location in his mind, a bright slit appeared in the air before him, expanding into the room beyond. Keiran stepped through and gasped as pain blurred his vision and saidin retreated as if ripped forcibly away.

What had seemed like an Age to adolescent Jaryd flicked by in the bat of an eyelash to the slender man with an ageless face. He studied and planned, and expanded his network of Eyes and Ears. With each passing month, his network of intelligence grew, until he felt nearly as well-informed about the events of the Westlands as he had about the Rahad in his youth. Interesting how the world scales when you realize you'll live three hundred years instead of eighty, he thought.

A massive painting of a city spanned the wall before him. Although it was purported to be done by Daleo Vini in the Age of Legends, it had seen so much damage in its time that even the poorest innkeeper would likely have declined to keep it in his establishment. It suited Jaryd's purposes just fine, however. His desk - a solidly simple oak contraption - had been placed at an angle to one side of the center of the room, his seat facing the door. Behind it another painting hung, this one in far better condition. This one depicted a dark-haired man engulfed in flame, his face contorted with grief as spurs of rock burst from the ground around him. The Birth of Dragonmount, by Narine Horin of Arad Doman. He had paid more than a poor merchant's annual income for that single piece, and didn't regret a single penny of the cost.

He had surrounded himself with things of beauty and culture, and each of them had meaning to him and an assigned purpose. Though no one but he could see it, the room he stood in was a network of information hidden in plain sight. If someone should happen to get past his Wards undetected, they wouldn't even know what they were looking at. He laughed at the thought as he flicked through the papers in his hands. After reading one, he tore a strip off and dipped one end in his inkwell; then he deliberately dripped ink on the delapidated painting. The haphazard splatter ran down the canvas as he channeled, Fire consuming the remainder of the letter.

Before he could move onto the next note, a surge of saidin roared into existence; he pushed himself backward, and seized the One Power, flows of Spirit and Air already in his grasp as he stared at the rotating white line opening mere inches from where he had stood. What in the bloody Light? The Gateway sliced through the back of his armchair like a hot knife through cheese, and then a young man with sandy hair stepped through.

Before Keiran's foot even hit the ground, Jaryd unceremoniously yanked him the rest of the way through with Air barbed with bits of Spirit, a Shield slamming into place with enough force to jolt even the most prepared of men to the core. As the Shield settled, the Gateway snapped shut, leaving the two men staring at each other in shocked silence.

Jaryd's fury grew with every passing moment, heavy eyebrows drawn together and down, his face otherwise deceptively devoid of expression. "Do you have any idea how stupid that was, boy?" Jaryd asked in a deadly cold tone, lifting the Dedicated with Air and shaking him as a dog might her pup. "Did no one teach you the dangers of Traveling? Ten seconds before your Gateway opened I was standing right here," and Jaryd scuffed a spot on the floor with his toe, "Which, if you'll notice, is exactly where your misbegotten weaves landed." He shook the Dedicated again, hard, his voice hardening. "Do you understand? You could have bloody killed me. Just like that." He snapped his fingers.

The Altaran took a deep breath, then released it through his teeth slowly, gathering calm around him once more. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat you within an inch of your life and then give you to the Master of Soldiers for your real penance," he said, crossing his arms. "Make it fast."

Keiran Taravin Keiran’s vision wavered from the shock of having saidin ripped away so unexpectedly. Blood and bloody ashes! He hadn’t expected Jaryd to be in his quarters, before Keiran had left, he practically lived in the office of the M’Hael, and most likely not by choice. That didn’t matter now, Keiran felt a wave of embarrassment come over him, and a tinge of anger at his own stupidity.

“M’Hael, I…” Excuses were for children only. Keiran relaxed slightly, composed himself, and stopped probing against the shield of spirit blocking him from saidin. Jaryd Kosari looked different, somehow. Currently, he seemed at ease despite his anger, yet Keiran knew he was coiled like a deadly viper ready to strike. “Travelling directly here was foolish and risky. I apologize, and will accept any penance you choose, but I need your help first.”

Without pause, Keiran continued into the tale that had consumed the previous year. “Last year, Kaci was attacked by a Fade in a tavern here in Hama Valon. Both of us were pretty shaken up. For over a year she had been the Commander of the Freedom Guard, created with the task of ferreting out the rampant exploitation of children throughout the city. But, after the encounter with the Fade she realized she needed more training. She signed her name in the books at the Tower.”

“Weeks later one of the Freedom Guards was abducted and tortured for information. A rescue party found him just before he died. Whoever took him was looking for information about Kaci’s identity and location. All of the men in the Guard are loyal to Kaci till death, so he gave them nothing. When Kaci got the news, she was furious. She came to me, asking for a way to leave her training without being barred from returning. I asked her to be patient, and sought Asha’man Phillips’ help. As a Blue, I knew he would be willing to investigate.”

“Asha’man Phillips left for a time. Kaci grew more and more nervous and impatient. Another week had passed before she got the news that an entire patrol of Freedom Guards was found with their throats slit on what was a normally crowded street. The entire neighborhood was questioned, and no witnesses were found. The only clue was this note.” Keiran handed the folded sheet of parchment to Jaryd, and waited a moment for him to read.

The Shadow is as shadows are,
the Night is everlasting.
When Darkness comes, you cannot hide,
it reaches to your soul.

Some tricks you have, oh yes, what sport!
A game? I like to play!
Alas, some nuisance you’ve become,
the Master wants your head.

A shame it is, no games, no games!
So this I surely say;
a man a night will lose a head,
as long as you keep yours!

HAH!

Continuing the tale, “Around the same time the note was delivered to the Tower, Asha’man Phillips returned with a warning. After piecing together information Kaci had collected—during her time leading the Freedom Guard—on a particularly nasty criminal ring operating in Hama Valon, he had learned that the children they were snatching up off the streets were being ferreted out of the city via Gateway. With the Fade sent to end Kaci’s life, and the One Power being used to smuggle children out of the city, Asha’man Phillips suspected a Dreadlord was involved.”

“On his advice, and the danger to Kaci’s life,” and Phil’s worry that the Black Ajah would start looking for me because of the Baelfire…, “we left the Tower to find them, before they found us. With the Freedom Guard, we raided all of their bases of operation. With luck, we managed to learn that the children were being sent somewhere in Caemlyn. Their financing was enormous, so whomever the Dreadlord was pretending to be would most likely be in a position of wealth and power.”

“This time, against Asha’man Phillips pleading, Kaci and I left for Cairhien. We assumed new identities and began to search for the Dreadlord. The details of that search are far too long and complex for me to share in such a short amount of time. However, we have found him, but he is not alone. There are two other weak channelers that do most of his dirty work for him, one male and one female. The Dreadlord, going by the name Lord Rorland, is far more experienced than I am, and more powerful than Asha’man Phillips.” Keiran took a long, deep breath. It seemed like so much time shortened into such a short monologue. It had been a long, tiring, and terrifying year. Keiran had enough horror stories now to last a lifetime.

“There is an exclusive party at his Palace in two days’ time. Kaci managed to get an invitation to it, and she will have the opportunity to get…uncomfortably close to him. She is convinced she will be able to kill him, but I am not. This is why I am here. You are the strongest Asha’man I know, and we need your help.”

Jaryd listened to the Dedicated's story with veiled impatience, arms crossed across his chest and eyebrows lifted slightly to express mild interest. He read the note with guarded curiosity, but when Keiran explained about the children being stolen by an underground group, his face darkned. His fingers curled around the note,crushing it against his palm with ferocious temper. That sounded all too familiar to him. The Gateway, however, was news, and the rest of the story... Terrifying. Those two had walked straight into a den and poked the sleeping bear in the eye, and it was obvious they had no idea the danger they were truly in.

"You went into Cairhien, the city of twisted politics, and magically gained favor in the noble houses without raising suspicions?" he asked, his voice flat. Keiran nodded hesitantly, clearly uncertain of Jaryd's intentions. A wry smile twisted the Red's face as he shook his head in disbelief. "Do you really think that a woman with no obvious connections would be invited to an exclusive party within a year of her arrival in the city?" he inquired. Keiran opened his mouth then closed it again. "Finally- do you think Dreadlords gain their status by being so dense they don't notice when questions are being asked about them?" Keiran stared at him mutely, and Jaryd sighed.

He didn't speak, however. Instead, he moved to his desk, opened a box there, and palmed the small metallic object within. It vanished into the depths of his pockets as he turned back to his captive. "The answer to the last two questions is no," he said calmly. "It is painfully obvious that neither of you have the slightest idea what you are doing or what you are up against. However, now that you have set out on this path it must be followed to its end. If it is not, your quarry will follow you to yours- and it wouldn't take long for you to find out exactly how painful that would be. Do you understand me?" Before Keiran could respond, the Asha'man waved his hand and the boy settled back to the floor with a thump The Shield remained in place, but at least the Dedicated could move again.

"I will help you because without assistance you will die," Jaryd said, "However," and his voice sharpened, "even I cannot be assured of victory against a Dreadlord and at least two minions. Sit down. I need to gather a few things before we speak to the M'hael."

"The M'hael? But I thought-" Jaryd could almost taste Keiran's dismay, and he started to laugh, his mood shifting like quicksilver from irritation to amusement.

"Durent Antian is M'hael now, boy," he said as he transferred a variety of objects from the drawers of his wardrobe to the leather pack that he had stored on top of it. "And may he find joy in that thankless task that I could not. More importantly for us, he's just as strong as I am, and knows more about fighting with the One Power. We will need his assistance."

Keiran still seemed reluctant and Jaryd shot him a very direct look as he cinched the straps on his pack. "Would you rather be alive and serving a rightfully given penance, or rotting in the ground with only your sister's corpse to keep you company?" Perhaps a bit of ghoulish honesty would get the point across.

"Let's go."

Keiran Taravin Keiran's anger flared. Jaryd had no idea what great lengths he and Kaci went to for all of their information. The past year wasn't one born from a fairy tale whim and dreams of grandiose heroism. It was one of stark terror, trials and pain. Keiran's sleep came seldom, and fitfully. His dreams were filled with all of the thousands of ways he could be killed, or worse, the ways he could watch Kaci be killed. Every time he seized saidin he struggled with the fear of discovery, that one day a gateway would open, Rorland step through and his life would end in excruciating pain. Kaci's arrogance compounded his own fears. She was convinced she could step into Rorland's Palace, seduce her way into his bedchamber and slit his throat.

Jaryd Kosari thought the two of them fools, and perhaps he was right. Yet here Keiran was, humbling himself before Jaryd knowing full well he needed the Asha'man's help. It was infuriating to be treated like a foolish child. Still, there was no point to making his case. Keiran wanted it to end. He wanted to sleep again within the safety of the Tower walls. He ached for a moment, just a moment where he didn't feel on the verge of tears and trembling and his boots. He kept his calm, always. He was a Taravin, no Taravin man would be permitted to show weakness around others. They were a proud house, and Keiran was soon to be Asha'man. It wouldn't do to be found blubbering like an infant.

Obeying Jaryd's command, Keiran went to his knees. Folding his legs beneath him and sitting on the heels of his boots. He sought the void, though saidin was still hidden beyond a solid wall of Spirit. With his inability to sleep of late, assuming the void in a state of calm meditation had been the only thing keeping Keiran going day after day. Well, that and an enormous amount of kaf. That habit was purely Asha'man Phillips fault.

Keiran's thoughts drifted to the Office of the M'Hael. Tower law was very strict. Light...don't let them gentle me.

Durent stood in The M'Hael's office, standing near one of the windows overlooking the Tower grounds. He stood there with his eyes closed, attempting to sense the weather outside. He'd been distracted all day. His mind was full and confusing to him lately. Feelings he'd once thought buried were resurfacing. Memories of those lost were competing for his attention. All of this on top of his duties and all day he'd been feeling a knot in his stomach as if a storm were approaching him... but the skies were completely clear with no sign of activity. He shook his head, trying to clear it from his thoughts.

He walked back over to his desk which was haphazardly covered with maps and letters, notes and random scrawling. This mess was his current side hobby as he considered it. He'd been rebuilding his eyes-n-ears network and what better way to get something like that built than with a specific goal. He'd tasked them with searching for the missing 'Fang' sa'angreal ring typically worn by the M'Hael. He'd been very upset to learn that such an object of Tower history and power had been lost. Vanished along with a previous M'Hael. He intended to find it.

His notes had led him to rumors of a lord in Cairhien with a prominent ring matching its description, or at least a close match. The rumors were lacking specificity. He'd managed to procure an invitation to an upcoming party, under an alias of course, an old merchant contact of his mother's. The family anyway, his mother's old friend was long dead.

The growing sense of the approaching storm intensified suddenly and Durent looked up towards his door. Moments later, Jaryd Asha'man came walking in with a Dedicated Durent didn't know walking beside him. So this is the storm you've been sensing? Where was his bloody Keeper, wasn't he supposed to announce visitors? Though he remembered storming into this very office when Jaryd was M'Hael at the time of Durent's most recent return to the Tower and the moment had an odd and mildly entertaining symmetry to it. Still, he wasn't happy about being interrupted with sensitive information on display.

Durent stood up and rolled all of his notes and put them into a cylinder for storage. He didn't seize saidin but he put himself ready to just in case. His resonant baritone voice carried across the room, Durent remaining behind his desk, "I'm going to do both of you a favor and assume that you have an extremely good reason for bursting into my office unannounced. Out with it." His stern face and hard eyes allowing for no uncertainty in his mood.

Jaryd walked the familiar route to the M'hael's office with Keiran in tow, his thoughts far away. A Dreadlord and Darkfriends in Cairhien, and a Dedicated and a Drin'fa'r'ji had just happened to unmask them. Were they walking into a trap? The only way to tell was one the Hall would never agree to, and therefore his options were slim. He played a dangerous game asking Durent to come along, and yet he couldn't imagine the man would turn down the opportunity to eradicate a Dreadlord. M'hael or not, he had been Green first, and if anyone understood how deep Ajah ties ran under those circumstances it was Jaryd.

About midway through their walk, he looked at Keiran. "I see no reason to continue shielding you, but if you pull any more tricks like your last I will not hesitate to give your face an intimate introduction to the ground." And with that, he released the shield. The Dedicated straightened, nodded, and continued to walk. If Jaryd didn't know better, he would have sworn his companion's lips had been stitched closed.

They reached Durent's office in record time. To Jaryd's surprise, Seth was not in the antechamber; perhaps he was meeting with Durent himself? He hesitated a moment, then strode across the room. He knocked once and then entered and bowed, bracing for the sting of a triggered Ward. It didn't come, and Durent was alone. He didn't seem unduly surprised to have unexpected company, however. "I'm going to do both of you a favor and assume that you have an extremely good reason for bursting into my office unannounced. Out with it." The Red's lips twitched, countless memories of similar statements from his own mouth replaying in his head.

"How do you feel about bringing a Dreadlord to justice?" He asked. Durent's face didn't change, but his gaze sharpened; Jaryd took that as a sign to continue. He gave a brief overview of what Keiran had told him, giving the Dedicated time to interject his clarifications if needed. At the end, Jaryd said "Keiran wiseley insisted on seeking help from me. He says there is a party in two days' time that would give us better access to Rorland. While I could certainly attempt to crush the man with sheer strength, the fight would be easier and victory more assured with your assistance, M'hael."

He fell silent. He already knew that approaching the M'hael with such a mission was almost as foolhardy as Keiran's Traveling. All he could do was hope Durent would be as eager to wipe out a minion of chaos as he.

Durent listened impassively on the surface as Jaryd and Keiran explained their situation, but underneath his thoughts were bouncing all around. At first his mind jumped to whether his efforts to find the ring had been too aggressive and these two were agents of his enemies. However, that thought was short-lived as logic caught up to his emotions. There's no way these two could have known about his efforts, most of which were simple folk just reporting on rumors. No. This was was simply a huge coincidence. That thought gave him a lot of hope, having learned in his long life that huge coincidences were merely the Wheel weaving them where they were to be. That on top of the feeling of the approaching storm confirmed to him that this is something that needed to happen and that his efforts were bearing fruit.

Now came the question of how much he trusted Jaryd. The man was still relatively young, but you don't get to be M'Hael without some good reasons, political or not. Durent knew the other man was incredibly strong in the Power, probably at least matching Durent's raw potential. He had to take a chance on their meeting in this way and trust him, for now. He would be a very powerful ally in the days to come if he played his cards correctly.

When Jaryd finished explaining, Durent leaned forward, hands on his desk. "Keiran, you were indeed wise to seek out Jaryd's help, and Jaryd you were wise to come to me. It seems the Wheel was intent on bringing us together one way or another. I know of your Dreadlord. Lord Rorland, was it? He's been making waves in other circles and I've been planning a visit of my own.

"I have already secured my own invite to the party you mentioned," Durent said as he gestured to packed bags and equipment he might need as he traveled. "I will be posing as a wealthy trade merchant from Caemlyn. Jaryd, you can pose as my bodyguard, assistant, or consort, whichever you prefer." He added the last little bit to allow a bit of tension to release from the room and allowed a small, wry grin to let Jaryd know to relax a little. If they were going to work together to bring down a Dreadlord possessing a powerful sa'angreal, he needed him in the game, but not stressed out.

"Keiran, your plan hinges a lot on whether the Dreadlord knows you're coming and this was a trap, or if you really did find your way into an unseen weak spot. Either way, with Jaryd and I there to back you up, I see no reason to abandon your work."

Durent leaned back from his desk and crossed his arms, going over ideas in his head for tactics and fighting at a party if needed. He exhaled a deep breath. "Very well, the two of you go gather anything you need and meet me at the stables in one hour. We'll Travel from just outside the Tower grounds. Keiran, you'll make the gateway."

Durent watched them leave before getting his things together and changed out of his Asha'man's garb and into something worthy of an Andoran merchant of expensive taste. Just after an hour, the three of them were leaving the Tower grounds, Durent riding Stormfront, his white and grey warhorse. When they reached a spot customary for Traveling, Durent nodded to Keiran. "When we're on the other side, I want to hear more about the specifics of your plan."

Keiran almost asked for permission before seizing saidin, being in the presence of two M’Haels. He laughed at himself, aloud, as a gateway snapped open before them. Every time Keiran wove a gateway, tearing a hole through the pattern itself to meld two locations into one, he felt a stab of frustration. For such a complex weave that required a large amount of the One Power, it was incredibly easy. Ever since that first night he wove one to appear at Kaci’s side. It was frustrating because other weaves requiring less focus and less Power seemed so much more difficult, or just failed entirely, sometimes catastrophically.

The gateway opened into a lavish courtyard. Great reinforced gates led out onto a service path behind the Palace for concealed entry and exit. White stone walls stood 4 spans high, vines a deep shade of green clung to the stone like a spider’s web. Immediately after moving in, Keiran had pillars erected atop the wall for a slanted roof to hide his gateways from prying eyes in the windows above. Only a select few of the staff knew Keiran could channel, and even fewer knew the real identities of their patrons. One of those few, a young man, son of the stablehand at one of the Taravin country estates scrambled around the corner and bowed deeply. “My Lord. Welcome back.” Keiran nodded his thanks, and beckoned for Jaryd and the M’Hael to follow him through an open side door.

Keiran walked briskly up the spiral staircase, “Rooms will be prepared for each of you, unless you are planning the consort cover, then you can share.” It was a joke that Keiran instantly regretted. He looked over his shoulder quickly, his cheeks heated. At the top of the staircase, an archway opened into an immaculately decorated foyer. The previous owners went bankrupt on a land deal with an egregiously wealthy Amadician merchant.

Master Hill ran the Palace day to day. He was old, out of a retirement as a favor to Kaci. He complained a lot, and treated Keiran like a child. He had far too much fun with Keiran’s cover too. “Ah, about time you’re back boy. The Lady Morigan said she had sent you to fetch a guest, yet here you are with two. Do you do anyth-“

“NOT today, Hill,” Keiran countered. “See these men are given our finest quarters, but take them to Lady Morigan first.” Turning to the men at his back, “I will meet you there shortly.” Without another word, Keiran strode up the grand staircase two steps at a time. The gilded double doors to his quarters were already wide open, a roaring fire visible in the anteroom beyond. Keiran seized the Power, slamming the doors shut behind him with thick flows of air. He removed the stopper from a glass decanter gilded in gold and poured out a golden liquid far older than himself. After emptying the cup in a single swig, he poured another. Decanter still in hand, Keiran put his back to the wall and sank the floor.

Jaryd kept his lips pressed tightly together as Keiran’s Gateway opened into a courtyard clearly within Cairhien proper. Does this boy know no caution? His certainty that he should help the Andoran faltered for a moment. However, once he stepped through and saw how carefully the area had been constructed, he realized the area had been designed with Traveling in mind. Curious. Were he still M’hael, he would have had choice words for Asha’man Phillips; even as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a smile dance across his lips. Not his problem anymore! Intense relief washed him as he followed Keiran through the side door. A young man –a boy, really- greeted them and took charge of their horses, and then they moved on toward a door in the side of the manor.

“Rooms will be prepared for each of you, unless you are planning the consort cover, then you can share,” the Dedicated said in a teasing tone once they were through the door and going up a set of spiral stairs. Jaryd’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline, and he bit back a laugh. Keiran seemed to realize his presumption; he flushed dark red as he led the way up the steps, and he refused to look at them directly again. The Asha’man shook his head slowly, a delighted smile playing across his face at both Keiran’s impudence and his foresight. Though he was fairly certain that Durent’s consort comment had been in jest, the idea actually made a certain amount of sense. A bodyguard would be glued to his master’s side, and an assistant would not be granted full access to such a gathering. A consort, however…the sort that posed as a partner for the business world, but “everyone knew” was more…that man could mingle freely. For that, Jaryd was willing to share a bed with anyone.

The thought made him chuckle as the sandy-haired noble spoke to a servant. Apparently they were to speak to Lady Morigan –Kaci, he assumed- and then be given chambers. “I will meet you there,” Keiran said sharply, and then departed with alacrity. Jaryd squashed a flash of annoyance at the peremptory gesture. Irritation served no good- he had an identity to build, and precious little time to prepare or succeed.

“Master Hill?” He said, affecting a strong Altaran accent that he had not possessed in many years. The servant inclined his head, and Jaryd gave him a dazzling smile. “You have done fantastic work here,” he said, spreading his arms enthusiastically to encompass the foyer and the grounds he had seen so far. “I can’t wait to soak the travel weariness from my bones- I am certain your guest chambers are magnificent.” At the word soak, his gaze slide sideway to Durent, lingering on his face and chest for a moment too long. Then he started, as if realizing he had been unbearably rude, and added “I am of course looking forward to speaking to Lady Morigan, as well. It is a great honor to meet her! Lead on, Master Hall.”

He made an elaborately apologetic hand gesture, indicating the elderly servant and the M’hael should precede him. As Durent stepped forward, Jaryd leaned in to whisper, “I have used the name Camao Dorlan in the past.” Then he fell into step, focusing most of his attention on ostentatiously admiring their surroundings.