Shining Threads - Best in Patterns Society

Home -- Procedures -- Officer's Picks -- Site Picks -- Voting -- Nominations -- WoT RP

Site Picks - Best in Patterns Society

Plantings - Shiemi Telamur & Illaina Wisnom

Nearly a year had passed since her emergence from the sinister depths of Shayol Ghul—precisely eleven months and a half since that day of personal infamy, in fact. How could she ever forget such a date that was emblazoned so sharply in her memory? It was a painful reminiscence, in all honesty; the nightmarish visions stood out vividly in her mind even to this day, ruthlessly tormenting her in every form imagineable. When she closed her eyes she saw them, the hulking figures that emanated a sour, putrid stench and grunted inhuman sounds as they reached out for her with sabers and bludgeons. When she glanced into the shadows she saw him, the man who was not a man, whose figure was sinuous and whose skin was as pallid as a slug’s underbelly. When she heard music she heard it, the soft crooning of a creature whose embrace was as soothing and drawing and comforting as death.

When she woke up each morning, she felt it. The resonating voice that dominated the recesses of her skull, enveloping her soul and mind in an overpowering force. That, the fact that the Great Lord of the Dark had spoken to her, was the most frightening out of all the rest. It horrified her and summoned up all the terror that was contained within her very body, causing every stitch of her consciousness to clench with fear. But. On the contrary….what a sweetness that voice carried as well! It was as if by making the prerequisite journey to the land of the shadow her entire life course had been elucidated before her. Or, more like, the fog in which she had been treading during the past twenty-odd years had suddenly been lifted. The Great Lord would show her the way. Funny how people usually related the Great Lord to the ‘dark’; the Great Lord was her light.

Shiemi stood before the ornate grill of the establishment’s many private dining rooms, her face peering out calmly through the gaps the grill’s elaborate scrolls provided. The city of Caemlyn stretched out before her dark-colored sights, the fancy spires and elegant structures standing proud as if to prove the validity of the rumor that Caemlyn was indeed second to Tar Valon in its beauty. Everything, the distant marketplace to the walls of the Inner City, was draped in a melancholy atmosphere, as the roiling gray clouds that had blanketed half the world in the days of recent hadn’t budged an inch since….the last time she had checked. But yes, deep autumn was in place, which meant that pelting rains and heavy winds were perfectly of the norm. All to the good; she actually liked this sort of weather.

Lips curving into a tiny, dark smile, she absently raised her fingers to her hair, which had grown a considerable amount since that unfortunate incident when she had chopped it off to her chin in a furious rage against her father. Now that was nearly an Age ago, or so it felt. How long had it been since she last stepped into the premises of ‘home’? She hardly knew. Did she miss it? No. Would she ever return? No. Was her noble father still even alive? She couldn’t dare to hope, for fear of being disappointed. No, home or anything relatively close to its meaning was out of the question for her for the moment, and it would likely remain so for a while. Possibly forever. There was too much to do, too many places that needed her frequenting, and Shiemi Telamur wasn’t going to let petty nostalgia hinder the path of her ambitions. Not that she felt the least bit nostalgic.

She fingered the smooth crescents of ebon hair, hair that rippled down past her shoulder-blades and mingled somewhere halfway down her spine. At the current moment half of it was done up to sprout in an elaborate braided display at the back of her head, and half of it had been left down to rest around her shoulders; a slant of a fringe cast across her smooth forehead and extended at the sides to frame her face. Her hair had grown, yes, though not so much to rival the length it had been, once; she had been able to boast at one point in time of her life that she had inherited her mother’s flowing dark tresses that more than bolstered the generous—and somewhat amusing—Domani reputation of favorable women. She might have been able to boast, yes, had she felt her mother deserved such flattery, but as things went the mother-to-daughter-love between them had been pitifully thin.

Dropping her hand Shiemi turned from the grill, just in time to see the door opening and the tall form of Morde sidling in. The Shadowbringer was garbed in his usual raiment, with leather straps strung across his chest and dark folds of cloth shrouding the bottom half of his face; she supposed the only people who had seen the entirety of his face—a somewhat handsome face, though too broad-jawed for her tastes—were women, those being the ones he had bedded. She, of course, was included in that lot. And how many others had there been? she wondered, a touch thoughtfully, How many other girls had he coaxed and cajoled and, eventually, raised to the tiers of shadowhood? Despite the man’s constant reminding that she alone had required his greatest dedication, that it was by her side he would stand, it truly made her wonder.

“Little girl, I thought you might be here,” Morde said in his low tones, “Did you think you could hide from me by running away to The Scented Thorn?” He paused, unconcernedly stepping around the table and standing in front of her. She had never—and would never—been able to fathom out the man’s thoughts from his facial expression, but maybe, just maybe, there might have been a small note of amusement glimmering in the man’s hazel gaze. “Maybe you can make it clearer for me, but I’m not understanding this. Why leave The Crown of Roses for this?” he said, waving a casual hand at their surroundings as if dismissing the place as a hovel for the scum of the earth, when really, this inn ranked probably a fair middle percentage when comparing the ones of the city. “I’d prepared your accommodations for you there.” Precisely.

“It’s time you stopped calling me ‘little girl’, old man,” Shiemi answered, walking a few steps past him to reach towards the tabletop. Taking hold of a dainty little teacup in her hands, she lifted its rim to her lips and her tongue touched a bittersweet taste. “Too stuffy, that place,” she said as she lowered the cup once again, “Best inn in Caemlyn or no, I didn’t like it. It was so kind of you to rent out a room for me, though. I’d never have guessed.” If that was not sarcasm she didn’t know what was; every town and city they’d traveled to in the months of past she had lodged wherever Morde placed her. Breathed air when he permitted her to, why not.

She could sense Morde’s eyes upon her, coolly calculating and measuring her, but as if nothing at all were happening Shiemi uncaringly stared ahead and sipped at her tea. “Whatever you’d prefer, then,” the man said at last, then turned to leave. “I just came to inform you that I’ll be out of the city for a short while. Enjoy yourself, while you’re here.” There. That half-look of amusement again. The man was wretchedly half-expressional sometimes.

“Just out of curiosity,” Shiemi spoke up then, causing Morde to pause at the door, “How did you….know?” That I was here? But of course, the man simply smiled—or, at least she assumed he smiled, since his lips were covered, after all—and left, closing the door softly behind him. And Shiemi clattered the teacup back down, pressing her lips tightly together as she scrutinized the tabletop. Would there never be a time when she was free of his observance? Her eyes narrowing, Shiemi drummed her fingers, lost in thought; a breeze penetrated through the iron grilling behind her and ruffled her silken garments, shifting the lavender folds against her. So she had tried escaping from his clutches, and it had not worked. Of course, this had been just a prodding attempt, a ‘test’ if the word could be allowed, to see what her limits were; she had reached out tentative digits against the box in which she was trapped, and had made the penultimate conclusion that it was a narrow box indeed. Morde simply had too tight of a leash on her.

But was it a leash, really? Without Morde she wouldn’t have been able to come to the Great Lord, and even now without him she would be utterly lost and floundering for direction. Or would she? It was time to lay her foundations elsewhere, for Morde would not be with her forever. The man insisted he would be, yes, but for one thing Shiemi couldn’t bear to be a puppet forever. She’d break open the chains with her bare hands, if she had to. If only if this was a situation where raw strength would do, instead of being something so subtle. She wrenched her gaze away from the tabletop—unaware to her, she’d been staring holes into the flamboyant arrangement of flowers that had been erected in a vase; the poor things should have wilted under her glare—and strode towards the door, her steps full of purpose. Exiting the room Shiemi made down the stairway, after which she stepped into the most occupied section of the inn. The common.

It was a few hours after lunchtime, but as expected the room was still relatively busy with activity, of patrons lounging about around the tables and laughing and conversing over a cup of ale. A buxom singer she might have labeled ‘indecently dressed’ had she not been Domani flitted atop the stage erected at the other end of the hall, and a bored-looking man sat on a chair he had pulled up adjacent to the stage, beating away on a flat drum. Of course. Considering the weather outside was so dreary and unpredictable, most city-folk these days preferred to hole themselves up somewhere, and what better than drinking away the hours in a warm common room? “Domani!” There was a clamor somewhere to her left, and when she glanced that way she saw that a man was grinning darkly at her, appraising her as only men could, “Get that wench off the stage and go dance—” Yet whatever else he had been about to say faltered off as she gave him a flat look and moved on to sit at an empty table. Ten seconds later, she had already forgotten about him.

If there’s no hopes whatsoever of hiding away from him, I should not even try. I might as well flaunt myself, really. The more he thinks I’m content with his directing and watching, and the more he thinks I’ve given up, the more chance I have to develop my schemes and puissance in secret. Enjoy myself? I’ll do just that. But beneath that façade, I’ll plant a network. I’ll plant the beginnings of something so grandiose that the world, most of all he, will be taken by surprise. A leash is not for me. I may yet strangle him with it.

Now….who to make my first victim?

Illaina’s grey eyes were stormy, her delicate brow knit together. Her cloak fluttered as she walked, her measured steps taking her quickly to the door of the Inn. The Bloody gleeman had left her!

“ ‘I have business to attend to, Illaina, make your own way to that inn I told you about. I shall come fetch you later.’” Illaina mimicked, and snorted bad-temperedly. “More likely he had seen a pretty girl, with a flirtatious eye. Bloody gleeman.”

A passing man looked sideways at her muttering to herself, and she glared so fiercely back, that he stumbled over his own feet. The girl had to walk on quickly, lips twitching, so as not to laugh aloud. Her light feet quickly brought her to the Inn, and Illaina entered without pause- she was surely thirsty. Inside, it was almost full, yet quieter than she expected. She hesitated on the threshold. As a young woman of barely sixteen, it was not good to be in a packed Inn by herself.

“What was that bloody gleeman thinking? Apprentice, he told me. Well how am I meant to be an apprentice if my master is not near?”

She caught the eye of a serving maid, and exchanged light smiles. The young woman led Illaina to a tiny table in the corner. Ordering a light drink, Illaina settled herself down. She drew back the hood of her cloak, smoothing down the cloud of hair surrounding her moony features. Across the room, a girl was dancing to the monotonous beats of a drum. Illaina wrinkled her nose.

“Problem, miss?”

Illaina glanced up at the serving woman. “Is this all you give as entertainment?” She knew her tone was a little harsh, but she was in a bad enough mood not to care.

The serving woman straightened up stiffly, and Illaina choked on her drink as her cloudy eyes suddenly noticed the way the woman was dressed. She had just insulted the innkeeper- and by the looks of it, the woman wasn’t too happy about it. Illaina’s eyes watered as she coughed, watched stonily by the innkeeper. When she had finally stopped coughing, the woman spoke, voice cool.

“Why, if you think you could do better, then-“

“Yes.”

The woman frowned at her quizzically. “What?”

Illaina repeated herself calmly. “I said yes. I think I could do better. Not at dancing, obviously.” She added hastily in reply to a raised eyebrow. The innkeeper smiled at her.

“Up you get then, I’ll take your things through for you.”

Illaina stood, sweeping back her cloak, and smoothing the front of her silvery grey dress. Calmly, she unfastened her harp form her pack, cradling it as a mother would a babe. Ignoring the innkeeper, Illaina took a breath, and strode forward to the stage. The dancer had already been evacuated by a glance from the innkeeper. Majestically, Illaina swept up onto the stage, delicate figure straight.

“Hey! Where’d the dancing girl go?”

“Get off the stage, child, bring back the dancer!”

Illaina stood calmly, gazing out into the room until the shouts quieted. Once she was sure she held at least some of the common room’s attention, Illaina began to gently coax some chords from her harp. Gazing out, the apprentice began to tell ‘Frenn and His Love.”

Well; I suppose this is not so bad a way to be passing the time until Jann gets here. she thought. Indeed, the hours flew by quickly, and Illaina was soon being taken over by the dancer once more, as Illaina took a break. Stepping down from the stage, the girl looked around for an empty table. Her corner seat had been taken by a group of dicers. The only table near to being empty had a single woman sat at it. The Domani’s demeanour wasn’t exactly inviting, but Illaina walked to the table anyway, wanting to sit down and rest her achy feet.

“Would you mind if I sat here a while?”

The offers to sit with her and keep her lavish company weren’t exactly lacking in number. Well, they wouldn’t have been lacking had she accepted them, really, or had she not sent her gaze glittering into amber ice whenever an unworthy candidate happened to ‘accidentally’ stray across her line of vision. It was usually tempting for a man to want to come sit with a Domani woman swathed in nearly opaque silks, she was sure. Yet it was not the bestial race of a man she was looking for—or if she was, a somewhat decent man would do, which spoke volumes of men who currently cast a background around her—, because it truly wouldn’t do for her first contact to be tripping over his feet and unable to control himself, would it now? No, what Shiemi was looking for was someone who could think, and not with the hairs on his chest.

She plucked at the sleeve of a passing maid with murmurs for tea, and a few good minutes later it arrived, steaming and placed in a nice little porcelain cup that only partially sported a chip at the rim. Taking it in her slender fingers she sniffed at it, then delicately wrinkled her nose, though she didn’t return the cup to the tabletop. In any case, the curls of steam soothed her head from the incessant beat of the drum coming from that raised platform that was the stage. Her sights caught on the way the innkeeper, hair pulled back into a bun and apron intact, wove her way around the tables with queries as to whether someone wanted something, as well as admonitions to a particularly rowdy bunch, and after a moment of consideration Shiemi caught her eye.

“Would you like something, my lady?” the woman said upon approaching her. The pause before the title had been obvious, however surreptitious, and Shiemi could feel the sharp gaze as it assessed her, taking in the silks and hair and whatnot. Likely she didn’t know what to consider Shiemi, dressed in clinging Domani garb—in outlandish view, that sort of thing was considered improper, a thing that quirked her amusement. Only the fact that they were silks saved her at all from the distasteful narrowing of the innkeeper’s eyes to carry out its threat; the woman would likely bodily throw her out if she had half the chance. Into the rain? Shiemi shuddered.

“I’m no lady,” she replied curtly without traces of a laugh; that kind of thing she saved for men, when she wanted to entice them, of course. She left the statement at that, without giving the woman time for questions, not that the other would have asked anyway. Innkeepers were discreet about their patrons’ privacies. Of course, she was nobly born in truth, but no one had to know that. “How secure is this nation?” she asked as she idly skimmed her spoon over the surface of the tea, “Andor, I mean. What’s the military system?” Not that I’m planning to march an army over at your gates any day soon, she felt like adding dryly, for all the way the innkeeper’s face snapped on an expression of keen suspicion. A moment later, however, and the woman seemed to brush that away.

She began talking at length about the Guard and the Queen’s Guard—yes, there was a difference—and the strict and proud upholding of peace and law and what other babble… “—And thieves of every sort are arrested promptly, of course, and if their crimes are sufficient enough they might even get sent to the Palace prison.” Oh, lovely. The woman seemed to have finished her tirade, because her gaze strayed out—it had never totally left the scrutiny of her common—and latched onto something in the distance. Not truly curious, Shiemi followed her line of sight and saw a girl with very pale hair, and a moment later the innkeep was striding off to attend to her, and even despite the fact that her words were swallowed up in the relative din of the hall Shiemi could guess enough at what was being said. Bored, she turned her face to the dreary view beyond the window that filled up that wall yonder.

And then whipped her head towards the change of sound when the drumming abruptly stopped. Oh good. They’ve finally realized that the beats cast a most obnoxious off-rhythm to the rain patter outside. But that wasn’t the end of it. The girl—with the pale hair and delicate-looking frame—was climbing atop the platform…with a harp, of all things. A harp? At the common of an inn? The innkeeper must have been a lucky one indeed. Shiemi watched, unknowingly sipping at her tea, as the girl began playing a few tinkling chords and then began a recitation of some epic or other, about a man who lost his ladylove time and time again to another. The room calmed considerably as the tale continued, and Shiemi marked down the girl’s influence with a sharp mental note. Interesting.

“Would you mind if I sit here a while?” the same girl asked upon coming to her table, some time later, and Shiemi glanced up with a snippet of surprise. Oh, not at all. She gave a small shake of her head, and the girl gratefully sank down in the chair opposite her, likely wearied by all the playing she’d been doing. Shiemi beckoned a serving maid.

“Tea,” she told her, and didn’t really give her a second glance as the woman scurried off to get just that. Shiemi turned towards the singer. “Well. I should have asked you what you wanted before I ordered your drink for you, but I hope tea’s alright.” So in truth it had been tactful enough, sending the maid away with orders before any polite refusals could be voiced, therefore solidifying the fact that yes, Shiemi had bought the girl a drink. You owed a certain something towards someone who paid coin for you. Right? “I take it you’re a lover of music. I’ve never noticed music much before, but I have to admit you have a talent.” Actually, only the latter of that was true. She had more than noticed music in the course of her lifetime…, considering Tyaoris—her muscular betrothed—had been amazing in that sort of thing, if he was a brute at everything else. Tyao…you used to sing so beautifully… She hardly knew what she wanted more, now, whether to rip out his throat or to hear him sing one more time. “My name is Shiemi Telamur. And you are?”

“…but I have to admit you have a talent.”

Illaina blushed a little at the compliment. She smiled a little shyly as Shiemi introduced herself; the Domani’s beauty and grace in speech had Illaina feeling a foolishly small girl.

“Pleased to meet you, Shiemi. I am Illaina Wisnom.”

The serving maid returned, placing a steaming cup a little more chipped than the one Shiemi held in front of Illaina. She nodded, and murmured thanks.

“You were right in that I am a lover of music,” Illaina said, still feeling a little shy. “Though if I am honest, it was not that which made me get on stage; that drumming really was quite incessantly annoying.” She laughed softly, and took a sip of tea. Really, Illaina had wanted a cold drink, to soothe her dry throat, yet tea is what Shiemi had ordered, so tea is what she got. Illaina wasn’t sure, but she thought that perhaps the woman buying her a drink without offering first meant something subtle.

“Thank you for buying me a drink.” Illaina said, pushing away the belittled feeling she got from the Domani. “Really, it was kind of you. After my intrudence on you, I feel I owe you a favour, perhaps I could buy your next drink?” Illaina winced inside as the words left her mouth, sure that they had been clumsy. Jann still had not managed to teach her ease of speech and conversation, no matter how much he drilled her.

Illaina took another sip of tea, allowing the drink to scald the roof of her mouth as she attempted to escape her clumsy words. A little longingly, she thought of Jann, wondering when he would arrive at the Inn. If he did not come soon, Illaina thought she should take a room here, and wait through the night. It was not like the Gleeman to be so long in keeping her. In fact, Jann was normally quite protective, claiming that as her master, he had full responsibility of her. Light, the more I think of it, Jann really has been gone a while. He had left her soon after they arrived in the morning, and it was now nearing evening. She decided she would ask for a room, but Illaina’s brow knit as she realised that she had little coin with her- Jann looked after it mostly. Abruptly, Illaina realised she had absently been staring at nothing, and neglecting to talk to her acquaintance. She smiled apologetically at Shiemi.

“I am sorry. I was thinking about my companion.” Seeing Shiemi’s polite curiosity, Illaina carried on her explanation. “You see, I am waiting to meet him here, yet I fear he will not come until late this night, and I have not enough coin either me to get a room…” She trailed off, a little embarrassed at unloading her problems on the dignified woman. She looked to the tabletop, tracing the run of the wood with an idle finger as she thought of how to lighten the conversation into something interesting.

Burn you, gleeman! When you find me, I am going to make you promise to turn me into the best conversation maker known to this age!

Shiemi watched as the girl raised the rim of the imperfect cup to her lips, and then hid a pleased nod to herself as she lifted her own cup and swirled the contents of its murky depths. The faint herbal aroma drifted up to her nose and soothed her senses, not that they really needed any soothing, but it was good to think so all the same. When would Morde come crashing through the door and catch her in this evil act? It was to her belief that the man knew everything, and one glance at her conversing with a stranger would surely incite him to… Nah. What was she, a doll? She’d never allowed a man to control her strings before—well, not really, but Tyaoris didn’t count—and she wouldn’t let the likes of Morde do any such thing, either; the point was to become independent from him, not to worry each second whether he would approve. She sickened herself sometimes.

“Thank you for buying me a drink. Really, it was kind of you,” the girl who had named herself Illaina spoke, “After my intrudence on you, I feel I owe you a favour, perhaps I could buy your next drink?” Shiemi regarded her silently, pondering and speculating, a spark of surprise hidden within the cool depths of her dark amber gaze. Perhaps the girl was not so ‘innocent’ as she had first deemed her to be? Could it be that this Illaina was more learned in the mind-tweaking guiles than she showed? But no….Shiemi decided as she watched the girl over her cup; Illaina was truly being sincere about that offer, not…falsely sincere. What a concept. It stirred some sort of past remorse within her that she swatted away almost without thought.

The drumming began afresh. I may well take up that offer to dance if that devilish noise does not stop soon, and to Shayol Ghul with the need to stay discreet. A faraway look had drifted over Illaina’s light features, and though Shiemi longed to probe into those mysterious depths of a companion’s unknown history—she was curious by habit—, she waited patiently, only partially wishing she truly had stayed in that other inn, which would mostly like have provided her a better quality of tea and a saner entertainment. But then again, Shiemi was nobly-born, and she oftentimes found these wistful thoughts circulating her head; she would have to hurry up and adjust to the non-pampered life of a full-fletched Darkfriend. Pampered? A Darkfriend? The Great Lord would laugh.

“I am sorry,” the girl said abruptly, shaking herself out of whatever reverie that had taken over her, “I was thinking about my companion.” Companion? Not exactly something that pleased her. Companions and friends led to added suspicions and questions, and she couldn’t afford to be taken into interrogation and the like… But she listened attentively just the same. “You see, I am waiting to meet him here, yet I fear he will not come until late this night, and I have not enough coin either me to get a room…” Aha. The Wheel was even more brilliant in its workings than she had ever been led to believe. Here she had been, wracking the mechanisms within her brain for a means to create an opening she could pry into and plant the roots, and the girl provided them right off her own lips!

Unless… She was intentionally providing the opening to lure Shiemi into something… But when was a trap a trap if the victim knew it as one? “A room.” The words fell from her lips in what she hoped was a wondering tone, and then she looked towards Illaina with a curving of her lips. “If your companion does not arrive in time, I think I might have a solution for you, Illaina. It so happens that my late lover thought to abandon me just this morning.” She gave a chagrined shaking of her head. It wasn’t so hard, the pretense, since the initial factor of her drive into the Darkfriend-hood had been because of that exact thing, after all. Tyao… But it wasn’t Tyaoris whom she was speaking of, now, not that Illaina would know a scrap about Morde, anyway. Still, she liked to keep her lies at a minimum. Pfft.

“We had been….arguing for a while, and the room he stayed in is empty, now. It is adjacent to mine, and the man stormed off without even changing the terms of his rent.” Shiemi shrugged as if pleased by the coincidental fortune of events, “The room is paid for and empty as a Cairhienin tavern, so if you would want it, it would be my pleasure to let you stay in it.” She canted a cool and well-groomed eyebrow. “I thought at first I’d make a little coin by telling the innkeeper and asking him to return the pay, but either way, it does not matter.” She supposed that statement sounded a bit preposterous, considering the wealthy state of her lavender skirts looked as if she hardly needed what meager coin three days’ worth of lodging in an inn would fetch. Waiting for Illaina to comply or refuse, Shiemi sought out the eye of the innkeeper, wishing to share a private word with her later—of course, if the singer accepted her offer—concerning renting out a certain room adjacent to hers for three days or so.

And if it wasn’t empty in truth, then she’d make the participant leave, unknown to Illaina’s knowledge. Gaining power began with demonstrating power, after all.

Illaina’s mind creased into relief at this sudden twist of fate. She thought rapidly as Shiemi’s offer hung in the air, yet no matter how hard she thought, Illaina could not manage to think of anything wrong with this idea. She was sure that when the gleeman turned up, he would probably have something to say about it, but he was not here, and Illaina counted it as his fault if she did something wrong- he should not have left her so long.

She caught Shiemi’s dark gaze with her own grey, and smiled gratefully. “Thank you. Light, I don’t think you could do me a better favour!” Illaina’s face turned sincere, and honest. “If there is anything I can do in return, please don’t hesitate to ask…”

It was getting warmer in the Inn, and pink suffused Illaina’s normally pale cheeks, highlighting her heart-shaped face. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Innkeeper, leaning on the bar top coolly. Staring flatly at Illaina. Suddenly, she realised how long she had spent about drinking her tea. Hurriedly, feeling the woman’s eyes boring into her skull, Illaina gulped down the last of her tea. Smiling hurriedly at Shiemi, the girl stood rapidly.

“I am sorry, Shiemi, but I must get back to the stage. I fear I have taken too long, the innkeeper is surely not looking happy about it.” Illaina cast a slightly wry glance in the woman’s direction, flashed Shiemi another smile, and wove her way between the tables. As she reached the stage, the drummer caught sight of her, and made as if to stop drumming, and call down the dancer. Illaina quickly shook her head; she needed a few more minutes. Understanding, the man carried on.

Illaina caught a passing serving maid by the arm, asking quietly for a glass of water. The woman nodded, and moved away. Much as Illaina had enjoyed the tea, it had done nothing to help her voice. As she waited, Illaina smoothed the silvery-grey fabric of her dress. It was wool, but fine wool, and expertly tailored. Illaina had her aunt to thank for all her dresses. The maid came back, and Illaina took the water thankfully. Quickly drinking it down, Illaina placed it on the nearest table, and picked up her harp.

This time, Illaina chose a song slightly more suited to the crowd of evening patrons. They whistled appreciatively, clapping in time. Illaina looked out as she sung, catching their eyes, and grinning. She felt slightly embarrassed inside, for she knew Shiemi would be listening, but Illaina did not know what else would keep the crowd amused. But her face did not show any of it, and the song went smoothly. Until the last verse.

“With skirts of red,
And lips to match

She chased her man,
Until the-“

Illaina’s eye caught the door opening, and she faltered in her line as Jann came through, looking thunderous. Regaining her stage face, Illaina carried on singing. But her grey gaze was fixed on the gleeman. Jann looked at her from the back of the room, leaning on the door, pack still on his back. Catching his eye, and holding it firmly, Illaina looked meaningfully at Shiemi’s quiet table. It took a moment or so, but the gleeman understood, and made his way over. As Illaina began a fresh song, she could see the two introducing themselves. They sat a little awkwardly, talking, and then turned to watch her. Illaina felt her face colour. But she carried on, studiously ignoring the pair.

After a while, Illaina stepped lightly down from the stage, and made her way over to Shiemi and Jann. The gleeman sat tall on his stool, still looking rather thunderous. She glared at him slightly. How dare he come in here looking like a storm cloud, when he left me for so long!

Illaina smiled at Shiemi, though, the glare falling from her eyes. “I hope you do not mind us joining you again. If you would rather sit alone, we can leave.” But Shiemi motioned for her to sit. Illaina sank down a little gratefully, easing her tired feet. Harder work than it looks, performing.

“Shiemi, this is my companion, Jann Dermin. As you can see, he is a gleeman. I am his apprentice.” She offered, a little shyly. “Jann, this is Shiemi. She kindly offered me a room here when it seemed like you were not coming.” Her voice hardened at this, and she glared at the gleeman. But Jann just sat there. He had barely nodded at Shiemi when Illaina introduced her, and now he sat moodily, silent and stiff. Illaina frowned at him, but he appeared not to notice. They sat for a while, Illaina awkwardly making conversation, whilst yelling silently at Jann.

After a while, Shiemi excused herself for a short while, and Illaina took the opportunity to round on her master.

“Where have you been?” Jann sat, staring at the table. “I have worried over you, waited since this morning for you to return after disappearing with barely a word, leaving me to find my own way here, and even then I did not feel-“ she cut off as Jann raised his head slowly, eyes burning. Taken aback, Illaina’s mouth worked.

“some of us have worse problems to deal with than a small chit of a girl.”

Jann’s voice was hard, icy. He got up stiffly, and walked out of the Inn. Illaina called after him, tried to follow, but the Inn was too packed, and she could not get through the crowds to stop him. Illaina struggled back to Shiemi’s table, and dropped into a chair. She leaned her head against the wall, and gazed at the ceiling through unshed tears. Vaguely, she realised Shiemi had returned to the table. She put her head down, and gave the woman a wobbly smile.

“Is the offer of the room still open?”

As soon as the door opened with a short gust of rain-speckled air to admit in a man, Shiemi knew it was he whom the singer had referred to as her ‘companion’. For one, the girl’s voice faltered into a near stop as she caught sight of him, and for another a quick and not so scrupulous scrutiny of the man told her what she needed to know about him; with the cases on his back and his traveler’s apparel he was clearly a singer himself. She was not blind to the look the man and girl shared, as well, after which the man slowly picked his way towards her table. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Still, she fixed her face into its usual smiling…er…face, with a little less sultriness than normal, of course. She used her arts only in necessity, and surplus in such things were all but unheard of. It was amazing how much ‘necessity’ appeared in life to a Domani, really, but that was besides the point.

Pleasantries were kept at a minimal, and Shiemi returned to nonchalantly sipping at her tea, her eyes still riveted to the singing Illaina. She did steal a glance or two towards the man who had taken his seat across her, however, though in that one look she was able to pare him down to his very last detail, from the tallness of his height to the state of dusty wear of his bootcuffs—measuring a man to his qualities was all but engraved in her background education, was it not? Which led her to think… Perhaps necessity was here as well; if she had thought to snare the singer and plant a seedling or three, why not another, and that a man? Quite needless to say, men were her specialty, and it wasn’t particularly fair that she had chosen her first agent to be a woman—a species she certainly belonged to yet was unsure how to treat others of their kind. She’d never had friends who were females.

And if she was not mistaken, the man was somehow superior between the two of them; it would be useful to work from the top. Her suspicions were confirmed when Illaina rejoined her and introduced the man as a gleeman and she as his apprentice, which threw Shiemi off just for a fraction of moment, despite the fact that she’d been expecting the sort. A gleeman? Without his cloak of multi-hued patches that was the trademark of so many of his kind, she would never have guessed. Gleemen came in numerous variants of sizes and shapes, after all. Just like Darkfriends. It might have been better if I had been a doe-eyed and apple-cheeked maiden; no one would suspect me then.

She set down her cup of tea and peered at the recently reunited man and his apprentice with a somewhat amused eye as they began what looked very much like an argument. And it was in the middle of their torrent of words that Shiemi made up her mind. It might have been coincidence, but the scene enfolding out before her reminded her too much of her dealings with a certain Morde the Shadowbringer; from her own experience she knew Illaina felt a note of rebellion from her ‘bonds’, and that would come in very useful. “Is the offer of the room still open?” Useful indeed. Shiemi smiled, trailing her tanned fingers delicately across a folded piece of linen and standing to her feet. Even that simple movement drew male gazes like bees to honey, but they were of no concern at the present.

“Of course, Illaina,” she said warmly, walking with the girl through the maze of round-topped tables, “I presume you have more things with you, a trunk perhaps?” Illaina replied that she didn’t, which surprised Shiemi profusely. Whoever could live with only a pack strapped across the length of their shoulders? But of course, there was the lady in her emerging again; she couldn’t survive without a closetful of well-brushed silks, though that was partially Morde’s fault for providing her with them in the first place. At least now she didn’t have to be so dependant on him for coin anymore, considering she was starting up her own little collection in various bankers’ coves, hidden to his knowledge. Or so she thought. But it had to be. “Well then, shall we head up? The room is just up there, if you’d want to settle in and such.”

She caught the innkeeper’s ear on the way, palming her a few glittering crowns she delved up from within the folds of her skirts—unnoted by anyone who really mattered, since the common was full of bustle anyway. How fortunate that the room turned out to be vacant. They climbed the stairs and after the singer girl had voiced her thanks and slipped into her room, Shiemi considered a brief visit to her own. Settling before the mirror of her dresser she regarded her calm reflection without truly seeing it, her mind flitting in a steady buzz. So it was apparent already that she had tied a string to this Illaina, a string that had solidified when the girl had accepted the tea, as well as the room. Now, how to pull it in the right way so that she would accomplish what she had set out for? A singer. How did a singer tie into the web of plans she had so meticulously devised for herself? A start.

With a small smile Shiemi exited the room but a moment later, and having told Illaina to rejoin her in a private dining room for supper—not the same one she had encountered Morde earlier this morning—she traveled down the length of the torch-lit hallway with a swish-swish of her silken skirts. The girl was not there when she entered, but that was just as well; Shiemi settled herself down into one of the gilded chairs and lay a smooth forearm against the white tablecloth. It wasn’t long until there was a knock, and the door opened to admit in a fair-skinned, gray-eyed girl. “Tell me, Illaina,” Shiemi said as she absently tapped a finger against the tabletop, “How would you like it if I took you into service?” She lifted her gaze, and held that of the youth’s with dark, glittering eyes.

Illaina sat with relief upon the bed. The room was of a medium size, and in good condition. It looked as though it had not been touched. Illaina wondered what Shiemi had her mysterious lover had argued about. But, she told herself sternly, it is none of my business Moving to the creamy washbasin, Illaina gratefully poured a fresh stream of water, and washed away the dirt of travelling. As she washed, Illaina considered what had happened with Jann. She did not understand what had got into the man! Normally Jann was good-tempered, yet he had been smouldering, like an ember just about to burst into flame. And now, she had no idea where he was, or when he would return.

Illaina brushed her pale cloud of hair roughly, angry tears splashing into the washbasin below her. She was worried, confused, and a little scared. Jann could never return, for all Illaina knew. He could have left her, taken to the road in search of different times. He could be somewhere, hurt. Suddenly, Illaina realised her hand was shaking, and dropped the ivory hairbrush onto the dressing table beside the washbasin. Carefully, she smoothed her face, taking deep breaths to calm herself. Illaina had Shiemi. Though she did not know the woman well, it was a thought that would take some of the load from her mind.

Smoothing her light hair, Illaina left her room and headed for the dining room. Shiemi was there already when Illaina got there, elegantly placed in a chair. She took a chair opposite her acquaintance, settling her skirts for lack of anything to do. Shiemi seemed to be thinking deeply about something, and so Illaina started a little when she spoke.

“Tell me, Illaina. How would you like it if I took you into service?”

The pair of intense, dark eyes before her captured Illaina’s gaze. She felt a little frozen, yet oddly compliable, as though anything Shiemi offered would be reasonable. Illaina lifted one delicate shoulder.

“Why, I suppose I would like it fine. Depending on what service it was.” She added carefully, wondering where this would take her. Shiemi studied her silently. “of course, I do not think I can leave Ja-“ Illaina caught herself with a bitter smile, twisting her sensitive mouth. “What do I say? The man is not here. Light knows where he is. The inconsiderate swine!”

Illaina grimaced apologetically at Shiemi for her language, yet she meant every word she said. May The Light burn you, Jann Dermin! She wrenched her gaze from Shiemi’s with some effort, and watched her own fingers twining with each other as she considered quickly what was being offered.

“Please, tell me more.” She asked the tabletop, and sensed Shiemi smile.

The proffered implicit-yet-not-so-implicit query hung in the air, as if they, the lady and the singer, were both testing the taste on the tips of their tongues and wondering whether they found it favorable. It was an intricate balance of victory and risky failure, or perhaps it wasn’t as much failure yet considering she hadn’t tossed about the notions of the dark side of issues yet, but this was revolutionary nonetheless. First of all, this was her premier move from the dependent to the independent; with the words uttered from her lips she had taken her first step in wrenching herself away from the regime of Morde. She was….her own. “Why, I suppose I would like it fine,” Illaina said, and through a smooth, copper façade Shiemi positively felt relief. It was as if everything of balance had hung in this, and with that single confirmation that yes, it would go her way, she was soothed. Thawed from the momentary tension of ice. It would go her way, now.

The world might bend to her will.

“Depending on what service it was. Of course, I do not think I can leave Ja—” A pause. “What do I say? The man is not here. Light knows where he is. The inconsiderate swine!” The last terse word left a hanging silence, into which Shiemi would have laughed in amazement had she been anything but mature. Swine indeed. She recalled a time in which words might have been her initial weapon against someone whom she harbored intense anger; but then again, how many nights per week did she really stay awake with a litany of curses against a particular Aes Sedai running through her head? What was she really accomplishing these days, anyway? Illaina, uncomfortable, averted her gaze and scrutinized an intangible point beyond her line of sight, upon which Shiemi sensed the extent of the frustration coming from her, once again. “Please, tell me more.”

“I admit that that was rather abrupt. And I need to clarify on the ‘service’ part, lest you think I’m speaking of service as a maid or something. That is not what I meant,” she said, feeling the sudden urge to burst out in mad gales of glee; instead, she folded her hands atop the tabletop and regarded Illaina piercingly, her lips curving, “But I’ve heard you sing, and with a bit more training your potential will be enough to make people truly listen to you.” A significant pause. “And I need someone whom people will listen to. I need an agent, you see, who will frequent towns and gather certain information for me. A spy, to put it bluntly. Are you interested?” And as if in a glitch of the Pattern a knock sounded on the door in perfect timing, and when Shiemi regally raised her head with a, “Come,” the door swung forth to admit in a serving girl with her trays.

She awaited coolly, patiently, she sidled forth and placed the tray on the round table, upon which she began deftly transferring the dishes. The woman must have been wondering to herself, really, whether the two diners—one apparently a lady, if the silken skirts judged anything—had recently gotten into a biting argument or some such; the silence in the room was nearly audible. Shiemi gave a grave smile and a nod even as the platters of pork and strips of beef were placed between her and Illaina; the cutlery followed next, placed in precise arrangement around a spotlessly empty plate. Taking the folded piece of linen proffered to her and shaking it, she placed it demurely upon her lap, and then absently gazed away with a ladylike, stupid smile—again, patiently—as the maid poured in both of their cups a measure of wine. Or perhaps that was punch.

And then placing the pitcher back down on the table, the woman with the apron left, closing the door softly behind her, and Shiemi lowered her gaze, casually reaching for the wooden spoon of the nearest dish of what looked like shredded cabbage with cashew nuts. “This Jenn,” she spoke up into the silence as she ladled small portions of steaming vegetables onto her plate, “doesn’t seem the ideal person to shadow all your life. Or am I presuming, once again?” Illaina’s silence was answer enough. “My advice is that you learn under him, and see how far you can go in your….gleeman’s career.” However odd that sounded, really. She was not aware that women had opted to choose the singer’s course in the days of recent, but there enough oddities these days that things could no longer surprise her. “But meanwhile, and afterwards as well, you will work under a different entity. A different….mistress.” Shiemi held Illaina’s gaze, unblinking.

“What do you say?”

“A different entity?” Illaina murmured, then shook her head abruptly at Shiemi. “No, don’t tell me. I will only worry about it.”

Illaina pulled, with considerable effort, her grey gaze from the Domani’s dark eyes. The woman had a gaze that made Illaina’s bone marrow freeze. For something to do, she busied herself with starting on the meal in front of her, thinking furiously as the food rolled tastelessly over her tongue. Illaina was too taken with thinking out what she should do to notice what it was she had on her fork.

Shiemi’s offer had been clothed in silk, and Illaina felt the urge to know more about what she would be stepping into. But it was unlikely she would be offered any more information. So Illaina had to go on what she knew, and think wisely. She desperately wanted to defend Jann before Shiemi. The Gleeman had been her closest friend for a long time. And he was her master. Yet for some reason the idea of being an agent of sorts was oddly attractive. The secretive life she would lead offered some powerful invitation to another world.

And Jann had disappeared. Illaina was worried about him. Yet it only proved that Jann was not as complete and safe a master as she thought. If he did not return, at least Illaina would have Shiemi to direct her what to do. She was young enough to need directing, to want to be told what to do. Illaina took a drink, letting the spiced punch warm and calm her. Placing the cup down, Illaina carefully met Shiemi’s powerful gaze again.

“I… I think I will accept. I do not know what I am letting myself into. Yet sometimes you have to take a gamble, I suppose.”

She smiled a little shakily at Shiemi. “What information will you need? And will I actually physically spy on people? Or only metaphorically.” She grinned self-deprecatingly. “I’m afraid you will have to explain in detail to me. Else I will fumble for months until someone sets me right.”

The promise of victory was definitely solidified with the singer’s words of acceptance, but strangely enough, the urge to laugh that had so been plaguing her up to this point vanished, just like that. If anything she finally had reason to laugh, to rejoice, to celebrate, but now that things had been rendered concrete she felt the familiar gravity of business settle upon her, cloaking her in a sinister, precise manner. “Not an undercover spy, no. Not like an assassin,” she said in reply to the girl’s query, “Metaphorically?” She shook her head a fraction as if she was not sure what Illaina meant by that, “You see, the work I am asking of you involves watching on Aes Sedai.”

She watched closely to see what Illaina’s reaction to that would be, and when she saw the gray eyes widen a marginal amount she felt her lips press into a tight line. Aes Sedai. The scheming little devils. She naturally harbored an intense loathing for them, considering it had been one of them who had led to her eventual downfall to the Darkfriend-hood, after all— Wait a minute. Downfall? Hardly that. The peak of glory, more like. But the fact that even the mention of a Tar Valon-bred Aes Sedai stirred up even the slightest bit of awe—or fear; in her mind, fear was in every aspect as valuable as respect—irked her. It positively annoyed her. Who were they, to possess even that much power, to have the capability to incite such a reaction from the worldly population?

It was they, the Darkfriends, who possessed the real and substantial power in this present world. Aes Sedai might have been great once—according to Morde’s stories—but now they were nothing but insignificances to be trodden over. Who were they, but pieces on a board on the losing side? “Details are impossible to lay out before you right now,” she continued towards Illaina, “because as all spies’ tasks entail, you will probably meet many unexpected twists. That meaning spying on Aes Sedai is not a simple job, and knowing this I am not asking you to do anything specific.” She leaned forward to pass Illaina a platter of warm bread, which the singer accepted.

“There are my terms. I will not interfere in your curriculum for your gleeman’s studies or travels or anything of your personal life. But in the course of your travels you will watch the dealings of the world for me. Particularly Aes Sedai. If you come across anything concerning Aes Sedai, you will notify me through pigeon, or perhaps an agent who will be nearby. You see, Illaina, singers go places where others cannot.” Letting that hang Shiemi coolly reached for her tall glass and took a sip of wine, letting the heady liquid warm her throat in its passing. “In return, I will pay you a purse of Andoran gold for each piece of information, two if the information is worth its price.” The Friends of the Dark could afford to be generous.

“And in addition, I will offer you my protection.” There was not a glimmer of amusement in her tone or her gaze. “I have friends in many places, high or low. They will come to your aid should you need it.” She left that as it was, and leaned slightly forward. “My only conditions are that you do not share your acquaintance with me to anyone at all. Even to those who know me. Particularly to those who know me. In your messages do not mention my name.” Laying her slender, bronze fingers lightly against the surface of the table, Shiemi put aside her square of linen and stood to her feet.

“I must go,” she said as she walked towards the door, “I will give you more time to think of this proposition. If you are still interested, leave a note in my room by tomorrow. I will probably be gone the entire day. If you are not interested, then I have never met you, Illaina. Good night.” With that the Lady Shiemi let the door shut behind her.

The Wheel of Time is © Robert Jordan and Tor Books. This site makes no financial profit off of the usage of The Wheel of Time or any of its related subjects. If you have any questions or concerns regarding this site, please email Joni.

Web page maintained by Taryn. Designed by Meri. Last updated July 13, 2007.