Fanfic:The Serpent's Bite
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Aiko sat and ate her breakfast. I was oats and dried figs. She ate mechanically. She faced a lesson today with Accepted Isabel, and after the last two she was skeptical. How many times was she to make a fool out of herself? She stopped herself right there. She was what she was. She was a Wilder, and though everyone seemed to think otherwise, she was special. She had accomplished something that only one and four woman can do. All she needed was some finesse. She needed to focus, and keep her thoughts on the weave.
She left the dining hall; she said hello to a few young women she had met. The new lesson was deep with in the darkest parts of the Tower. She would have know idea of hat the lesson entailed, until she got there. She hoped she did well.
Aiko made her way through the twists and turns, and the endless amounts of stairs. She felt like it went on forever, but then she arrived. She did not get lost after all. There were novice's and soldier's. There were a few Dedicated, and Accepted in their banded hemmed dresses. She subconsciously tucked her dark hair behind her ears.
"Welcome to the third lesson of the course, class. Today we will be learning how to warm your surroundings." She announces in a clear voice that carries across the dark classroom. "The reason we change classroom for this lesson is because it is naturally cold from being so low and deep within the Tower, making it the perfect place to learn this useful trick."
The Dedicated told them that Fire was being used, and to be careful. She watched, as the Accepted wove the flow. It did not surround her, so she felt nothing, but the woman channel. When she saw it was a box shaped web, she was excited. She could do boxes. This would work out fine, she thought.
She embraced the One Power, and moved out of range of the other students. The Air had to match cold in the room. She wove Air, and felt the room out. When she could match them, she wove Fire. She was tentative at first, she only let a small thread of Fire out. She wove the web it was similar to Isabel's. She adjusted it slightly, and it was the boxed web that she had watched. She was in control of everything. She flung the weave. The one power surged through her. She felt like her skin was being peeled off. The hem of her white dress caught on fire; her sleeves as well. She danced in circles. She squeaked, and batted at the flames.
As the Novice made a grave mistake, the Accepted and the Dedicated each moved as one. Isabel quickly placed a shield over Aiko, sealing her off of the One Power, and then her partner did two things nearly simultaneously. First he absorbed the heat and flames into himself, and then he wove a minor healing weave to help the girl.
Knowing she would need further medical attention, he lifts her up and carries her to the Yellow Ajah halls. Luckily they were not far away, so she would not suffer for too long.
As the Dedicated led the girl away, Isabel announced to the class; "Class is dismissed until the next scheduled lesson, where we will bee going over this topic once again. The last lesson shall be rescheduled as well."
As soon as the last of the unhappy students left, she locked the door to the room and headed to the Yellow Ajah halls herself.
"Spring is lovely this time of year, don't you think?" Lucan Asha'man smiled to the Soldier on the recovery bed. "In the northern seas, the spring thaw made the waters precarious, yet whilst undertaking a voyage in the spring, you truly feel alive. Tell me, how do you shore-bound like the spring?"
The Soldier blinked away his tears of agony and opened his mouth to answer. That was when Lucan seized his knee and his ankle and wrung both in opposite directions. The resulting sound was that of cracking a dozen eggs.
The scream slammed against the walls of the small room.
"Oh, hush," said Lucan and Delved the boy. "I had to do that before I Healed you." The Delving Weave told him that the bones were aligned again. Bored, he formed the Healing weave and settled it into the youth. He convulsed, and passed out. "By all means, you are welcome, child."
Lucan turned to the Yellow Aspirant beside him. The doe-eyed Novice looked about to faint as well. "It is better to not warn them about what you have to do in a situation like this. The bones needs to be aligned before you mend them together. Now, note what has been done in his journal and make sure he is provided with nutrition once he wakes up. Once you are done with these arrangements, you can report to me in the main Infirmary Hall."
Lucan did not wait for her, "Yes, Asha'man," before he stepped out.
Doing so, he found the Trimak daughter enter with a Dedicated at her side, holding a young woman in his arms. "Here," he said, signaling that he was there to assist the newly arrived patient. "Put her down and tell me what happened."
As he listened to the report, he hiked up the sleeves of his Asha'man coat and stood beside the bed. Once the Novice was lying before him, he checked the pupils and held out the back of his hand before her mouth - noting her breath. What was her name...? Ah, yes. Aiko Navoo. If he had heard it right, she was aspiring to become a Healer herself.
Done, he glanced up - held Isabel Trimak's eyes while she was speaking. He did not look away. Did not blink. He tugged at her with his gaze - judging if he was able to affect her somehow. Since she had taken his throwing dagger class, he had been unable to approach her in a convenient way. Now, he had been provided with the perfect excuse to talk further with her.
Aiko heard the scream from her mouth, She did not know how to put the fires out, and the source was cut off from her. She was cut off from the source once; it was the day she was healing her brother. She tried to pull to much off the source. She would have burned herself out. It was still a shock; the One Power leaving her like that.
The flames seemed to be pulled away from her. She felt like a chicken an a spit. She felt the burns on her arms and legs. What went wrong? She had pushed, that had to be the cause. She had to change how she thought of the One Power. She did not everything, but she figured out how it worked.
She was lifted into the arms of the Dedicated, that was teaching, with Accepted Isabel. She could not even think of his name. The pain was intense, but she could walk. She was shaken back and forth like a doll. When she was laid down, she was looking around, and slightly confused. A man approach her with tattooed hands. He was striking, but did she want to be healed by a man? It was over before she could speak.
Aiko felt nothing, of the weave that healed her. She knew she would never see a mans weave's, but that seemed unfair. She wanted to know how men healed. They were stronger, if less delicate than women, but they had techniques that were different. There had to able to learn from each other.
She watched the man walk away, and wondered if Isabel wanted her to try again with the miserable weave.
As the Yellow Asha'man posed her a simple question, Isabel could not bear to look into his eyes for long. She had always found the man charming, and found his quite attractive with his odd tattoos, but even since her raising, she has felt oddly nervous about him.
The Light knew though that a branch in prophesy was changed the moment Jip became Gaidin, and that a certain act that could have happened will never be woven into the Creator's pattern. That did not change memories buried deep though, memories this Accepted was not even aware of.
In an unusually nervous voice, she answered; "There was an accident when she was learning how to weave her surroundings, and I had to block her from the source as Dedicated Fera took care of her burning dress."
Feeling that she had said too much, she closed her mouth as her face paled a slight bit. Perhaps her shy friend may not recognize her reaction, but her other friend, Dedicated Zander would fully understand, and perhaps even be hurt by her reaction.
As she offered the vague explanation, the Dedicated was glad to see Lucan Asha'man, a man who saved his life after a freak accident. His usual cool eyes held deep respect for the healer.
Staring at the Accepted while she spoke, Lucan methodically dissected the emotions she betrayed to him. Of course, he could not take anything he saw for granted, since each person - woman - behaved differently. Their faces never showed the very same emotion in the same way as someone else - yet the general tell-tale expressions were universal.
The Dedicated, Fera, was known to him too, so while Riven Trimak's daughter spoke, he exchanged a quiet nod with him. The lad had no usefulness for him, but should such arise, it was good to nurse the connection if such a time would present itself.
His pale eyes returned to Isabel when she was finished with her recount of the events that led her - and the Novice - there.
What would be the proper way to... ah, perhaps...
Lucan leaned down to Novice Aiko, brushed back her hair with his hand. Her hazel eyes were a bit filmy, as if she had fever visions - "Do not worry, Novice. You will be completely restored. You will not share the fate of the Master of Arms, where a defected Healing left him permanently scarred. You will most likely forget the pain over time, and be undeterred in your endeavours to learn about your inborn powers."
He patted her cheek with his tattooed hand, gave her a smile. "I am sure you will overcome this incident, and become a great Healer sometime in the near future."
Then, my dear, you will be in my power.
Lucan straightened, folded his arms behind his back, his gaze returned to Isabel Trimak. His eyes were not smiling anymore, but nor were they hostile. "I would speak with you in my study, Accepted."
He glanced towards Dedicated Fera. "Please conclude the Class for the day, Isabel will be with you shortly."
Then, he turned and walked away. His eyes were shadowed in the oil-lamps, but the very small smile that touched his lips was not hidden. There was no reason to contain it, no one there to see it...
Aiko knew the lesson was over for the day, but was she going to have to repeat the weave? She hardly thought she wanted to go through that again. Her face flushed with embarrassment. She looked at her burned dress, and checked her arms for scars. This Lucan healed well; there was not a blemish on her skin, and she was only slight tired. Her being tired was more likely her lack of sleep.
What am I supposed to do? She could wait for Isabel, or she could leave. She hoped the Accepted was not in any trouble for what Aiko did. It was Aiko's fault, after all; she was the one that let herself get caught up in the One Power, and loose control. Fire was just difficult for her to control, but she would have to learn how to eventually if she was to become an Aes Sedai.
Aiko decided it would be best if she stayed. She wanted to wait for the Accepted. She watched what was going on around her. There was a steady flow of Yellows coming in and out of the infirmary; they were either checking on those they had healed, or issuing directives to the various Accepted working there. There were the injured, mostly they seemed to be dressed in warder trainee garb. She wanted to be one of those Accepted working their rounds.
She decided she would sit at the edge of her bed, and wait for Isabel. She would be told what she was to do next, and if she had to weave that Light forsaken weave again.
As she followed the Asha'man, she could not help but feel the nervousness within her stomach more upwards, causing her heart to beat ever more rapidly within her breast. Within her mind, she could not help but wonder why he would wish to speak to her alone.
It was not so much that she found the man appalling, since in all due honesty he was truly a handsome and charming man. The worry was more due to the fact that this was truly unexpected, and since her three arches, the unexpected worried her greatly.
Physically, she walked with confidence and strength, but emotionally she felt weak and unsure. Lucan din Nicander Riven Sail was an Asha'man though, perhaps a newly raised one, but one she would listen to.
Under all of the emotion within her mind was genuine relief that her student was fine, and would live to try the weave another day.
Leading Isabel Trimak up the stairs of the Yellow Ajah Halls, Lucan recounted the things he knew about the young woman. For most, he knew things about the Trimak family, but he had taken the time to learn what little there were to dig up about her in the network of the Black Ajah.
One thing stood out, and it was that she had martial training away from the Tower. That tidbit of information could serve him well some day. Of that, he was almost certain.
In fact, he already knew how it could help him.
Once they arrived to his study, Lucan led the way inside and gestured for her to seat herself in the private sitting area to the side of the study, instead of the chairs before his desk.
The study was neat and tidy, but not anywhere close to being as sterile and impersonal as his dead Master's. Lucan freely displayed his Atha'an Miere heritage with porcelain teacups as well as a priceless water basin. He had seagul quills aligned in a small wooden stand on the desk, and an wide assortment of books filled the bookcases. Most were on the human anatomy and herbcraft, while others dealt with history and cultures. Alchemy and astronomy were other titles that dotted the rows of ancient and modern tomes. There were even a few scriptures on knifemanship and throwing daggers.
After letting Isabel seat herself somewhere in the couches surrounding a compass rose table with a mid-session stones game, he spoke up.
"Do you know why I wanted to talk with you, Accepted?" Lucan did not look at her while he opened a cabinet at the far end of the study. While he browsed the contents, he unbuttoned his Asha'man coat and threw it across the immense chair behind the desk. The white shirt he wore underneath the drab coat shone starkly against his tanned skin, and he unbuttoned the collar as well - pale grey eyes still rummaging though whatever was inside the cabinet.
He was raised amongst the Sea Folk, and found clothing suffocating and restricting. He wore the coat since the First Weaver of the Yellow Ajah wanted all Healers to look representable. If he gained the influence, he would make sure all such rules were abolished. Once he had unbuttoned his shirt all the way, he found what he was looking for and picked out a unmarked bottle.
He turned back to the Accepted but did not look at her. Instead, he walked to another cabinet - a glass display cabinet holding multitudes of cups and goblets. "I supposed you wouldn't. I meant to ask you about your late father, if you feel comfortable visiting the subject."
At his question, he turned his head to her and looked straight into her eyes. His inner vision cut away all the flesh around her soul, while he let his face give her a small apologetic smile for bringing a sensitive subject to the table straight away. There were warmth in his eyes, and understanding.
The problem lay in that Isabel did not know the depth of the things he knew - and his reasons for addressing a topic he was already most familiar with. Riven Trimak had died a traitor to the Tower, and Lucan knew all the details of his blossoming insanity and betrayal - from its beginning to its end. The question remained how much the Light-blinded knew.
Also, the daughter of the madman was a prospect to entertain, since he already had the means to sway her. The means were his own charisma, and the knowledge he had gained about her bloodline.
There were many Aes Sedai and Asha'man within the Tower, and each of their private domains told much about them. Her other was a tidy person with a sense of style, and her rooms often displayed that fact, as her father and uncle were both men of action and passion, their rooms were often initially a wonder, but eventually grew messy due to things collected, and files open for study.
This man though, was as much a mystery as his room. Furnished with fine objects, and possessions treated with respect, yet it was obvious that this man understood that objects were simply objects, and that there is much more to things. This Asha'man, unlike many others, knew when to take of the coat, toss it, and live according to his ideals.
This man obviously had secrets, yet by the way he unbuttoned his shirt, and walked without shame, he not only showed a hint of his culture, but also showed that he was secure about his own self, and by the way he has always behaved around her, confidence is apparent,
This is simply the impression of one Accepted, who must admit to herself that this man could very much be different from her own perception.
No matter how curious this man seemed, Isabel would not lie to herself about the sight of his skin; it did affect her in ways long forgotten; yet she would not display such feelings openly. She would act as one aspiring to the Shawl.
After a polite moment of reflecting on the offered question, she answered as a proper Accepted would answer, she simply looked in his directing, seeing everything, yet in many ways nothing, and replied; "I will admit that I still feel deep sadness about the demise of my father, and that I am still unsure about much that had happened to him, but I believe I am in a position that I could discuss things relating to him without succumbing to grief."
Lucan had turned back to the cabinet when Isabel Trimak answered his question. He had withdrawn two glass goblets and a second larger bottle that was marked with a common label. It was wine - blood red and potent. The Asha'man walked to the sitting area and sat down on the other side of the low table.
"It is good to hear that you've been able to carry on with your life," he said and put one of the goblets on her side of the table. He put the wine-bottle to the side, and the smaller unmarked bottle in the middle. "You are a strong woman, and I believe that is what your father would have wanted if he had not been lost."
He left it unsaid how exactly he had been lost in Lucan's own opinion. He paused while he poured wine for himself and his guest - features introspective and serious at the same time. He left the small clear bottle where it was - in the middle of the table and the abandoned game of stones.
Eventually, when he had leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine, he spoke to the Accepted anew.
"After the Battle of Lights," he said and turned his pale grey eyes back to the woman sitting opposite of the table. "and given what kind of deeds I had to commit there, I took as much time as my Dedicated rank allowed to analyse what truly happened during those unfaithful days and nights. The name of your father was for long a mystery to me, but after I gained the rank of Asha'man, I was able to conduct the research that I needed in order to deduce the possible reasons behind his defection."
The deeds Lucan had committed were indisputable, and served him even today in order to remain raised above any kind of suspicion. He had slain both the Fiery Serpent and his Warder; gone out of his way to save a Ji'dar in the name of love twice.
"There is a number that you should keep in mind, Accepted, when thinking of the reasons behind your father's madness. The number is thirteen, and it applies to both Myrddraal and Dreadlords needed in order to turn someone to the Shadow. This might be something you have yet to learn in your studies, but I tell you now that it is real."
Rather, a truth wielded as an untruth - since Riven's defection to the Shadow was much more complicated than that. There was so much manipulation there from Lycos al'Seraphim, as well as reasons Lucan had no time to consider right then when he sat opposite the daughter of this dead pawn.
"Hence, Accepted," he said and sipped his wine. He lowered the goblet and smiled faintly before continuing, "I tell you that you do not have to hate him just because everyone else here at the Tower might do since that day. I tell you that he was a great man, who was gravely unfortunate in being trapped by the Father of Storms' devotees."
Lucan put down the goblet and leaned forward - trying to reach out for her innermost feelings by telling her to let go of her hate. The Yellow Ajah was not merely taught how to Heal the body, but the mind as well.
For Lucan, this approach had benefits, and he chose it in order to compel Isabel into feeling that she would not have to suppress her feelings for her father just because it was the seemly thing to do in the eyes of the people she met every day.
Reaching out with a tattooed hand, Lucan placed it on top of Isabel's. He smiled a little.
"Do you understand, Isabel Trimak? You do not have to hate him. It is a choice of yours, and not something the world can force you to do. You do not have to think that Riven Asha'man willingly gave himself to the man I killed on top of the museum, since you now know what might have happened instead."
Looking into those ravishing eyes, Lucan waited for the young woman's answer - to see what manner of effect he had caused with his words and his touch.
Many a student of the Grey Tower would be at a loss when offered a glass of red wine from an Asha'man, especially a red so thick it brings to mind passion, and humanity. Most would be confused as to either drink it, or refuse the gift, but Isabel knew another option.
Raising the glass to her nose, she simply inhaled the bouquet of the drink, appreciating the quality of the scent. The wine seemed delicious, but this Accepted knew better to partake in drink without the express permission of a fully ranked resident of the Tower, in this case, permission from her student's saviour, and her host.
As she listened to his words, he partially reminded her of a man who would become her lover, having both dexterous hands, and a smooth tongue. In this case though, this older man had a quality that separated him from her future lover, the man being a person with a dark past, yet actively seeking some form of redemption for past sins.
As the Asha'man mentioned her father, it was almost like a wakeup call from the slight haze she has been suffering from, one caused by some strange attraction to the Asha'man.
It was almost odd that he put so much emphasis on her father's fall, and a potential reason for it. What was even stranger was the idea that she could hate him, when many greater men, who were born in much better situations then her sire, who was borne and raised within the slums of Caemlyn, have fallen deeper when there should have been little to use against them.
Placing her glass on the table, she then makes sure she is sitting gracefully, much like an young Aes Sedai would, and responds as honestly as she can.
"Asha'man, I do not hate my father for what happened to him. It is very obvious to me that he was pushed down with the hand of the shadow. The people I hate are those who corrupted him, and those who harm and corrupt the innocent.
I dearly miss him, as well as my mother and brother, but I have found people who think highly of me, and show me affection and respect. You have met Jip Gaidin of Altara and Dedicated Zander Kilgas, or Accepted Amairwyn Serenya and Ji'dar Kailitha d'ra Din?
They have all been there for me, during the good times, and the bad."
After mentioning her friends, she hides a look of regret on her face. One never mentioned their close friends and most loyal allies.
She may know much about being an Aes Sedai, and may be close to becoming one, but she was still prone to the occasional mistake.
The names the Accepted mentioned were known to Lucan, especially the first. The jellyfish of the Yards, or rather the wolf in sheep skins. The others had appeared during the Battle of Lights affair, accept for the Brown Accepted whom Caneo Matricidium had mentioned.
Lucan absorbed the names into his mind, quick calculations cumulating on what they meant for the situation at hand. Nothing, really, beyond the obvious selection of an alternative path.
"I'm gladdened to hear that you were not alone in your grief," said the Atha'an Miere raised Mayener and removed his hand from Isabel's. With the same hand, he picked up the goblet of wine again. "Oh, by all means, drink if you so wish. Its a mediocre hospitality for such a remarkable woman as yourself, but I can't be blamed for not trying to be a good host, can I? Cheers, Accepted."
Sipping his wine again, Lucan looked at the woman across the table. So far, she had not raised a question about the unmarked bottle between them. Though it was of no importance, since it seemed the matter of her father had been properly addressed already. Lucan let it stand where it was and changed the topic.
"It seems my helping hand in understanding your father's actions has been extended a tad bit too late, and that your friends have already stood you by in your sorrow." Plain truth; no untruth at all. Lucan smiled and chuckled, shaking his head slightly in embarrassment - signaling a behaviour that had left all manner of formality and titles behind. "So where does that leave us, Accepted? I am willing to spend the time I intended mending emotional scars for other topics that might interest you more."
Sipping more of the wine, Lucan enjoyed the taste while pretending to rummage through his mind in a brief pause. "Tell me, do you frequent the Yards for martial training?"
Lucan already knew the answer, but it was the opener he needed to achieve what he had in mind for the meeting.
In response to the Asha'man's question, she made herself appear really interested in the subject, and answered in a positive voice, making her nearly appear like the last topic of discussion ever happened.
"I frequently train within the yards, Asha'man. In fact, I have been trying to master a few new forms, and stances, in hopes of maturing my skills as an unarmed martial artist. And as you know, I practice the dagger frequently, and in fact I still use the dagger offered to me by my skilled teacher.
Of course she was referring to the dagger she received when studying under Lucan din Riven Sail Asha'man himself. A man with a growing fame birthed from such a successful class
Lifting the glass of wine, she goes to sip it, but stops at a though, and a slight self doubt.
Would I even stand a better chance against master Ives? Would I even if I continue practicing, and training myself?
Lifting the glass higher, she swirls the liquid for a brief moment, followed by a slight sniff of the wines perfume once again. As she goes for a sip, she briefly wonders where this vintage is from, before she allows a very small amount to slip through her lips, and into her tongue.
Pleased in hearing that the Trimak daughter had accepted the gift of the throwing dagger so wholeheartedly after their first meeting, Lucan drank the wine too. Since it came from the same bottle, there was no means for him to put any herbal solutions in the liquid that he would or could not drink himself. Yet he was both willing and able.
The wine had its own effects, if not social solutions.
"I am but a humble teacher," said Lucan and lowered his wine to look into her eyes fully, "The Yards hold people more skilled than I - masters of the martial arts. Yet regardless of what one knows, or has the gift to be able to teach, any teacher is still pleased to hear that a student carries the lessons with them and can develop the knowledge on their own."
The wine had its own effects, so Lucan raised his glass in a small toast.
"For a prosperous relationship - since we both got what we wanted out of the affair," he added and drank again. When he lowered his glass, he hinted a smile with his eyes to leave her guessing at the underlying meanings of his words - subtle as they were. "Yet I am but a student myself when it comes to unarmed fighting. Oh, I know as much as the next man about the physics, much because I know both the projected way of using the dagger as well as the more stationary. Martial arts are, in the end, systems of codified practices and traditions of training for combat. While they may be studied for various reasons, martial arts share a single objective: to defeat one or more people physically and to defend oneself or others from physical threat."
Filling the Accepted's wineglass again while he conversed with her, he developed his reasoning. "Many martial arts are also practiced competitively as combat sports, but may also be in the form of dance. Knife-fighting is more related to dance than many others, even if the intent remains the same." Lucan filled his own glass as well. "Dance, in itself, is an art form that generally refers to movement of the body, usually rhythmic and to music. It is used as a form of expression, social interaction or presented in a spiritual or performance setting."
The wine had its own effects, and the other ones Lucan had added to it were not undesirable.
"Dance is also used to describe methods of non-verbal communication between humans or animals." He sipped his wine again, explaining his point progressively while watching the Trimak daughter across the table, "Yet unlike strict fighting, dance movements may be without significance in themselves, though still be ceremonial, competitive and - or - sensual."
The wine had its own effects, but not the ones that Lucan had made himself immune to by building resistance towards them.
"Unlike fighting, which is base in itself, all dancing derives from the oldest dance in the world - and the most sacred," he told the Accepted and stood up, the wine in his hand. Aphrodisiacs were hardly poisonous, if somewhat unreliable. They needed external stimuli; words, touch and promise of intent. "Instead of an expression between contending parties, dance is the expression between harmonizing ones."
The wine had its own effects, and there were not only aphrodisiacs in it.
"Can you see the paradox? Knife-fighting, as you might realize, hence differs somewhat between unarmed fighting in its close and brushing, thrusting expression," he said as he slowly paced along the side of the table, "even though dancing itself is done unarmed - with nothing other than the partner in your hands."
The wine had its own effects, and Lucan's touch on Isabel's neck while standing behind her...
Oh, it had its own.
"If your Class can continue a while longer with Dedicated Fera, despite the accident with the Novice, perhaps you would be willing to teach me a thing or two about your kind of dancing - perhaps I will be able to properly compare it to my own skills in the field, related as our talents are."
Even if Lucan had gradually built up his own resistance towards the effects of the augmented wine, he still felt a tad bit light-headed. Is it because of her undeniable appeal? Strange thought, but could very well be the truth of the matter.
Wine had its own effects, but Isabel Trimak would feel so much more. If she did feel them yet, the suggestion of training remained - in itself - innocent.
The carefully woven words of the Asha'man touched her in several ways. Some she was aware of, and others she was either unaware of them, or felt some confusion. Perhaps it was the wine? It was of an interesting vintage.
The topic was quite interesting, and in truth, he was captivating her in ways she was unfamiliar with. It was nothing like her late husband affected her in the privacy of their rooms, but it still was in ways that made her feel things that most women felt when interacting by a handsome and charming man.
As she was going to answer the Asha'man, Lucan gently touched her neck, exposed from her blond hair hanging neatly behind her neck. The touch was like a shock to her, spreading throughout her body, causing her skin to erupt in goose bumps, causing her already fragile confidence to melt, and birthing nervousness that began to flutter within her stomach.
In response to the many known feelings, and some unknown deep within, she bit her upper lip gently, the action being a very rare, yet recognizable sign that she is not at her best, and in a vulnerable state.
After a moment, she says in a breathless voice; "Lucan..." Adding a long moment later, "Asha'man, armed and unarmed martial arts, is much like dancing with life and death itself. The living body flows, according to knowledge, experience, and for some with an internal beat guiding their movements."
It was not really hot within the room, but Isabel could clearly feel a drop of sweat slowly gliding down between her small, yet still youthfully firm breasts.
"Martial arts and dancing are very close cousins, yet one can cause death, and the other... Life." She says with a slightly unsteady voice, her voice becoming a near whisper in the end. "I am sure a healer such as yourself can understand this." She adds, meeting the older man's eyes as she speaks, and probably exposing the feelings within through her eyes.
What is wrong with me? Isabel begins to wonder, as the initial shock of his touch fades away. I must be getting drunk.
Her eyes spoke volumes, and the Fiery Serpent knew the added components in the wine was working. Not only that, but she had even missed the question about whether she would like to compare their martial skills.
Ah, well, she might have caught the innocent invitation but realised the hidden ulterior motive - and chosen to drop the pretence in sake of further conversation on the real topic-at-hand.
With a faint yet confident smile, Lucan broke their locked gazes by crouching down behind Isabel's armchair - his tattooed hand remaining where it was on her neck. On the opposite side, his lips moved as he spoke right next to her ear.
"Indeed, Accepted," he said to her with low resonance - the syllables thrumming soothingly against her eardrum, "Though the end results of either kind of dance might differ, I think that proficiency in either begets foreknowledge in the other."
His fingers caressed the chakra of her neck - like the touch of a feather. The aphrodisiacs in her blood would be flaring, and her mind would begin to see the reason in granting him anything - anything. Still, even without the effects of the wine, Lucan had faith in his own charisma - and his own advantage over both the opposite and same sex. Slowly, with exquisite and teasing pace, he would twine her to his will. The time was ripe, but he could make her plead for the release if he wanted to.
He had, over a long time with small dosages, built resistance towards the components in the wine, and the Trimak daughter would never know - much the less make a guess - that there had been anything else but common wine in her glass. After all, Lucan had drunk from the same bottle.
Not only would she be giving herself, she would also offer him truth in all questions he asked of her. The serum was a psychoactive drug used to obtain information from an unwilling subject - most often captives hidden from the Light by the Black Ajah. The drug was a mixture of alcohol and rare herbs - like Mavinsleaf and Juniper. Since many were sedatives that interfered particularly with judgement and higher cognitive function, they had been mulled by the aphrodisiacs and rousing components.
"Do you agree with this, Isabel Trimak, that a man and woman trained in the martial arts are prone to be good lovers as well?" His breath against her ear, he lowered his pale eyes to her bared neck - thinking about the exquisite tastes a sudden bite would bring. Yet even if the impulsive toxins in his blood had given him the window for such a thought, he did not act on it. "For what is dance, essentially, if not the vertical expression of horizontal desires? Is it not the dance of lovers the most ancient kind known to man?"
Not only did he not like the tedious work of making it appear so that Isabel had actually left the study before vanishing, not only that, but he did hate to end the carnal pleasures he could derive from her so prematurely. He raised his eyes from her neck and instead, continued to speak to her - making her hang on to his every word.
"Tell me, Accepted, what your thoughts are right now on the subject. Tell me where you want this conversation to lead us. Tell me your heart's desires as of this moment."
Only the faint touch upon her neck was there to accommodate her wishes, and he would not give her anything more.
At least not yet.
He would be learning a lot from her - both in theory and practice. That much he had made certain.
As she was beginning to walk down a road she never even considered before, the Asha'man uttered a not so simple question, one that caused her control to slip even further. A question to push the subject about dance even further, down a path only a man and a woman could truly appreciate.
"Tell me, Accepted, what your thoughts are right now on the subject. Tell me where you want this conversation to lead us. Tell me your heart's desires as of this moment."
"I would dance, Lucan..." She whispers breathlessly, her entire body quivering from Lucan's close presence, her nipples hardening, and showing through her white banded dress, and a familiar feeling down below. "I have always loved to dance..."
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, she admits; "I have always felt most alive in one form of dance, or another."
There were a few ways she could regain some control, and composure, in thanks to the teachings of one of her instructors, the man being Dwillon Sa'ji'alantin, but she found that she had no desire to do so. She had no real desire to try and be truly aware of the workings of the situation.
Perhaps such a perspective may cause a spark to turn into a burning inferno.
At the moment, there was only one thing she was partially aware that she desired, one person, one act....
An act that could be considered a crime within the community of the Grey Tower... A crime that would be unforgivable by those in power...
At the moment, to commit such a crime, she would be willing, and live with the knowledge.
Though perhaps such thoughts were spawned from the wine.
She could not help but bite her lip harder, running her tongue on them a moment later, and so very slightly leaning her neck against the charming man's touch. The feeling was slowly becoming overwhelming, with her body becoming very sensitive, her breathing becoming more shallow and rapid, and her heart beating more rapidly.
Placidly, Lucan took in all her signals of willingness, judging the progress of his enchantment. Though it was only a temporary thing for now, Lucan would make sure it would last permanently. After all, he could make women and men crave him without trying, even without external stimuli for the flames. If he put a mind to it, the results was mostly gratifying.
With the young woman in question, the progress was not even boring for the Fiery Serpent.
"You have to be more specific than that, Isabel Trimak, if you want me to break Tower Law together with you," he said to her ear, pale eyes staring straight ahead while he thought about the multitude of steps he could take to make sure she was silent about what was transpiring. His thumb made a circular movement on her sensitive spot - the featherlike touch suddenly growing much firmer.
"Do not mistake my caution for lack of interest, for there is plenty when it comes to you," he lied though lips that smiled a false smile. Even though she could not see his face, she would hear the smile in his words. The role he played was strangely easy to perform though, for reasons he could not fathom. Even the words were too easy to say for his own taste.
Perhaps the wine has its own peculiar effects, even on me.
He turned his mouth to her ear, low syllables whispered in earnest that promised so much, yet granted so little to her immediate - pressing desires. "How can I risk giving into my lust and discovered feelings for you, when I cannot be sure what you want? Tell me what kind of dance you want to practice with me, so that we both know what we get into - what we will gain by breaking rules I am meant to uphold."
Lucan removed his hand from her neck, leaving her craving for his touch to return, while he stood up and walked around the side of the armchair. He looked down at her, portraying a sense of reluctant forbearance and hesitation - the image of a man in doubt about what he was about to do.
"Do you truly want this... Isabel?" The words in his eyes were instead: "Do you truly want me?"
Pausing once in the movement, he held out a hand for her to take - to help her stand up. She would need it, slightly drugged as she were. Standing, they would be on equal ground, and all titles dropped between a man and a woman about to explore arts forbidden in the eyes of their home.
Though Lucan would be granted more by the union than her, he had no reason to leave her wanting if he wished for her to stay loyal to their silent agreement. In making her head spin, she would not understand - oblivious to the things he would derive from her.
Oh, there was gravity in the moment, but Lucan smiled inside. The coiling beasts of hatred inside his chest were still - bereft of anticipation. Yet he imagined Kisane's face superimposed over Isabel's, and the act was even easier to perform - potent to fool anyone.
For somewhere inside, there was a hint of humanity - a facet of his soul that he used to appear truthful.
She should have known better then to let things go this far, but as it were; things were significantly beyond her control. In fact, this handsome man held all of the control, for good or ill that fact fueled the burning fire within her body.
Grasping his offered hand, she admires his handsome eyes and answers breathlessly; "I want this, Lucan..."
Once on her two unsteady feet, she adds with a little more vocal strength; "I would dance with you, as a woman can only do with a man."
There was an irony to the situation. For years, she used her gift to create music, and influence those around her to behave in ways different from their nature. There were many who believed that as the Wheel of Time flowed, a person eventually paid the price for their actions, no matter if they were done innocently, or if the action was done with intent.
This day, Isabel danced to Lucan din Nicander Riven Sail's tune, much like a puppet moved from the administrations of a puppet master. This day, Isabel danced to the Fiery Serpent's tune, much like her father did, in other, darker ways.
As she stood there, her hand held by Lucan, she would feel the pulse in his hand. She was not the only one in the heat of the moment, that fact proven by the shape of his trousers. Her body yearned for his, her lips hungered for him, her very lounges desiring to share breath with this man.
"Lucan..."
One possibility from her three arches had easily been eliminated, yet it seems that the threat had changed into another, stranger possibility.
Oh, she yearned for him, that was obvious. The toxins in her blood was working just like he had anticipated, with the only exception being his own unwarranted and temporary weakness for the girl. With a mind callous and numb from years upon years of similar situations, he was still very much in control of himself and his desires.
Holding her hand, he gently tugged her closer and raised the other to stroke her cheek. The tattooed hand curled its fingers around the back of her head - and his pale grey eyes meet hers - which held a shade darker than his own. Smiling to her, unblinking, he softly kissed her hand.
It was the opportune moment.
"I have leaned about your past, Isabel," he told her - letting a hint of sorrow rim his gaze, "It comes with being a Healer, yet I can tell you the details later. The important thing, though, is that I know what has happened to you - what kind of scars you carry."
Whirling her around, with the hold upon her hand, Lucan embraced her from behind. He laid his free hand against her flat belly, spread his fingers across the fabric that covered her scarred skin. "I want to tell you that if you hold any shame, which is a circumstance I cannot ascertain without asking you, you do not have to feel it around me. I can see you for whom you are, and not what you might have been - had your child not been taken from you."
Closing his eyes in pretence of a lovers yearning, he sighed into her ear - his dark hair pressed against her platinum blonde. "You need not be shy, you need not be modest, all I need is you, Isabel. The woman who has experienced too much, seen so much, and yet continue to shine."
If he was honest with himself, he saw Drelle Tai'shar in her - from the very first time he saw her. It was because of her appearance - her colouring. He used her words - used them to crumble all waning resistance left in this lovely substitute he had found; "I'm dying for you."
Chuckling inside at the private humour, he finally kissed her across her shoulder - her head resting against him.
There was so much to this man that Isabel did not understand, so much mystery that strangely made her hunger for him. His voice, his smell, his very presence made her hunger for him. His very touch made her body react in ways that she suspects her first love did not even do, which in normal circumstances would sadden her, but at the moment, hunger ruled her every though and feeling.
The moment his lips touched her skin, she surrendered a moan, followed by her body shivering. Not in cold, but in drug induced excitement, a fact that she would never learn, unless the Fiery Serpent revealed his secrets.
Those very few that knew of the Fiery Serpent know that to him, secrets remain hidden unless it can be used to further his goals. The Shadow held many secrets...
With one hand, she grabs hold of Lucan's hand that was placed on her stomach, guides it to her left breasts, and tells him; "Take me, Lucan..."
She would not hold back, nor would hide anything. This healer would heal a part of her, in an act that she may not remember initially, but over time would, and never forget again. This man was her new secret beginning, may the Light forgive her...
For surrendering to the kiss of the Fiery Serpent, and not even knowing the truth about this man who would make her feel like a woman again.
The next thing she knew, her dress was on the ground, and her body was exposed to him, hungering for him, and burning within for him. She moved and curved for him, dances for him, and sung for him as only a woman could for a man.
As the night passed, the fires burned within, and cooled down, leaving her tired, and laying naked against Lucan's body. Listening to his breathing, and his strong heartbeat. She knew there was no love between them, but passion was a great thing, and passion lived between them as the night had passed with pleasure.
As her weary mind reflected on his breathing, and heartbeat, it seemed oddly strong and calm. Perhaps the man was used to such things?
Staring at the ceiling above the round bed, Lucan's thoughts were far away during the afterglow. In having tasted the Trimak daughter's nectar, he found himself oddly introspective - remembering the River of True Blood; Drelle Tai'shar.
He could not help but compare the two women right then, even if he did both an injustice doing so. Well, it was not that he cared about that. Foremost, he believed that the comparison was moot, since it rewarded him none, and would not derive in anything but needless observations. Still, it was not without a sense of nostalgia that his fingers combed the moonlight glow of Isabel's hair.
Isabel would remember this night, that much was certain to Lucan, and he smiled as he looked down into her eyes.
At least so far...
"There is not a shred of doubt in me now," he told her languidly, "that it was worth breaking Tower Law for you." The mild joke, together with the needless compliment that referred to what they had experienced together was meant to reassure her - since he could feel that she had tensed somewhat while listening to his heart-rate.
"Why so silent now, when you were so loud before?" he continued and ran his hand down to her side, "One might think someone just died. Come now, I know there is laughter there inside you..." Playfully, with a merciless grin on his face...
...he began to tickle her.
Wrestling with her in the sheets, he forced laughter out of her, playing with her as any lover might - leaving her defenceless and struggling, laughing and fighting away his rope-calloused hands from both her sides. He rolled with her to one side of the bed. In the end of the even match, he let her win, let her end up straddling him and pinning his forearms to the sheets.
"Aye, aye, I surrender," he laughed with glinting eyes in the darkness, "I'm at your command, Isabel, pray tell what shall I do to be granted mercy."
His hands were closed, and one of them held an object that he had obtained at a certain point during the struggle. He felt the cold metallic length inside his palm while his smiling eyes held hers.
"That is right, Lucan din Nicander Riven Sail, I am in command." Isabel said coyly as she looks down upon Lucan with a predatory gleam in her eyes, as she playfully applied some pressure to her dance partners wrists. It could be good when the tables turned, or when a dance partner surprised the other with a joyful move.
As her body danced, the flickering candlelight shines upon her naked body, and reflected on the slight sheen of clean sweat on her small breasts. She had told Lucan that she enjoyed dancing, that was no lie, even if it took a certain vintage of wine to make her wish to dance this dance.
She would dance, and take what she wanted, not knowing what was to come.
After some time, her body stopped dancing, and she sat up straight, running her hands through her platinum blond hair as a small sound escaped her lips, holding her eyes closed as she savored the moment.
She would do this, even when a memory of her master echoed deep within, punishing her for her weakness, and soon after that memory another tried to shine through the haze, a memory of her master throwing the little respect she had earned through tears and blood, all because of youthful ignorance, all because of a crime.
The warrior felt shame at the though of what Master Ives would think of her, yet the woman felt alive as she moved, fueled by drugged wine.
The woman, with closed eyes, rested her hands and wrists upon Lucan's smooth, muscled chest, and leaned down for an exhausted kiss, her movements being sluggish due to a tied body, and pleasantly sore legs.
At first, Lucan carefully hid the internal irritation at the young woman's exploits. He had not counted on the aphrodisiacs to still hold such an edge in her blood count. He could not free himself without startling her, and he could not afford to be careless when this close to achieving his ulterior goal.
As they had discussed, she was martialy trained, and her field of expertise lay in unarmed combat - at a school Lucan had too little knowledge about.
Careful to not pierce his own palm with the object in his closed hand, Lucan waited for Isabel's insatiable hunger to abate. Initially, he bit down on his own hunger - the hunger to pick her soul apart bit by bit - and fell back in the vast pool of his patience. Yet in the end, he was but a man, and Isabel held a resemblance to a past lover that made his blood stir even more.
Patience gave way for pleasure, yet not without abandon. He remained, through it all, in cold control. He watched her all the time, but not in the way a lover should. He sailed the storm with his gaze fixed upon the horizon.
In the end, the storm culminated, and the Trimak daughter laid down and spread her light hair like a sail across his vision. He had done this before, and he needed no eye-sight to complete the act. He kissed her back - well enough to occupy her whole attention - and embraced her...
... pricked her neck with the hollow-point needle - just above her hairline. To her it could just as likely have been a strand of hair getting snagged - so careful was the puncture.
Parting from her lips slowly, Lucan saw the symptoms build up - watched her fluttering eyes. The active serum mixed with the dormant one - from the wine - and Isabel began to spasm.
In achieving his intention, Lucan pushed her aside - let her fall upon the sheets in the troughs of violent seizures. Placidly, letting out a breath, he stood and walked away from the bed, leaving her there while he poured himself a glass of water.
The night was not over yet - not by far.
In hearing Isabel stop moving, he did not turn his head while he posed his first question. "Do you know who I am? If so, tell me what you know of me."
Breathing heavily from the drink, then the forbidden deeds, followed by a violent case of the shakes, she felt tired, sore, ill yet strangely full of energy, and desiring to please this man. She felt wet and sticky down her legs, and felt so very sweaty, yet she could sleep, and sleep deeply, once she pleased Lucan again.
Laying on her back, she smiles at the dark ceiling and answers; "You are Lucan din Nicander Riven Sail, of the Sea Folk. I am not sure exactly of your biological decent, but I know that you have absorbed many customs of the Sea Folk into your own self. You are charming, a great kisser, an amazing lover who satisfies.
I also know you have been associated with the Grey Tower for many years; this I have learned through student records, and carefully filtered rumors. You are one of the most famed teachers of dagger use, and you would be surprised how many Novices and Accepted would give their flower to you."
Even after quite a few orgasms, there were still traces of the first drug introduced to her body, thus leading many thoughts to Lucan's sexual self.
"Rumor has it that you killed the man responsible for the chaos of a few months past, along with rumors that Mouse Gaidar was captured as she was found naked in your arms, though rumors say you were captured as well, and that the both of you were saved by my champion, Jip.
There is also the rumor of you facing my father, and defeating him in combat. Soon after, Caden found you both, and my father was executed. Though I am unsure about this rumor, due to certain official statements contradicting this." She states, not even bothered by the fact that her father had passed away by the hands of Master Ives.
"It has been said that you are mentoring Novice Selena, and that she is smitten with you. I wonder why!" She says playfully, not even jealous of a competitor for Lucan's administrations.
"You are said to be one of the most talented healers within the tower, often compared to the legendary Miliane Sedai. It is also said that you will probably be the most accomplished healer within Yellow Ajah history one day. You are Lucan din Nicander Riven Sail, Asha'man of the Yellow Ajah, and perhaps a future Ajah Head."
In listening to the Trimak daughter, Lucan drank his water with his back turned to her - at the same time drinking in the mad ravings that the truth serum induced.
The ultimate intention in posing the question was to learn if she had any suspicions about his double nature. It had to be the first question, since it would decide if he would be wasting his time asking some of the further ones. If she somehow had learned anything about him, and by some random chance, he had invited her to his study while she was in reality an agent for some of the major players in the Tower's domestic war with the Black Ajah, then he might have had to dispose of her.
Yet before that, there would have been a lot of information to glean from her drugged mind - many things he could learn in order to outwit the one she was reporting to. As it were, he merely heard a crazed portrayal of his public self - rimmed with all manner of faulty information.
There was no point in correcting her though, since she would not be remembering this part of the night. He would be wasting his breath to tell her what really had happened during the Battle of Lights and the events leading up to it. Rather, he was comfortable with the rumors running wild and errant, since it would provide further cover for the actual truth.
A truth none but himself knew all the details of. Not even the Black Ajah knew how he had played both sides for fools in order to reach the position he was in today.
The notion of the jellyfish - a Ji'alantin back then - saving him and Mouse was a hilarious one. The wolf in sheep's skin was her "companion"? Was that what the learning ranks called their promised bondmates these days? Then this affair might provide some interesting development later on...
Selena al'Dai, he thought as he turned back to the bed and the raving Accepted. Be the rumors true, then there might be another I could learn more from. His Mentee had taken his Advanced Healing Class, but after that, there had been no further meetings between them - even if he made eye contact with her from time to time in the Infirmary.
Pulling out a chair, Lucan seated himself at the foot of the bed, holding the glass of water between his knees. He leaned forward on his elbows, studied the subject of his interrogation from underneath his brows. The darkness that fought the light of the many candles seemed to writhe in his peripheral vision.
Perhaps it was because of the drugs in his system.
"Tower records state that you have been Punished for using a Forbidden Talent - namely Compulsion," he said - cutting through her ramblings with his deep voice, "Tell me what you did. Tell me on what other occasions you have used this Talent - all times you can remember. Tell me also how much you can sway your victims."
He willed to know what kind of tool she could turn out to be, should he decide to prolong contact with the Accepted.
"I learned how to do this when I was sixteen, I believe?" Isabel states, ending in a self-posed question. "Often, I would sing in festivals, helping people relax and enjoy themselves. During those times I often helped young couple get together when too shy to utter a word to each other, much less dance together."
It should have seemed odd that Lucan knew things from her official Tower records, but at the moment the drugs prevented her from reaching such a though.
"There was also the night my husband's house was obliterated, I know I used my talent that night, but I cannot quite remember the details. I can only remember certain... Details. After that night, I never did try moving people, until I met my Champion," she says with a warm smile, "and moved him with my song, causing everyone within the band of brothers to enjoy themselves in reckless abandon."
All of a sudden, she felt the room spin, causing her stomach to rebel in a nauseating fashion. Surprisingly, she did not vomit, but she did start shivering from a cold sweat.
In a tone void of the previous warmth, she continued, though her shivering and erect nipples proving that she had lost some inner warmth. "The last time I used my talent was not long before the death of my father..."
With the memory of that specific day, her voice became ice cold.
"A Drin'far'ji partook in the drink, and things slipped out of control. We helped her outside, with the help of Dwillon, Jip and Alyona, but as we stepped outside, we met with the Reaper of the Yards, and soon after, a mad fool attacked us all. I... Made him stop."
Briefly.
Lucan listened, his shadowed face not hinting anything at all. His tattooed hands held the glass of water - completely unmoving.
"Yet this is not why you were Punished, was it, Isabel Trimak?"
Oh, Lucan knew about the madman the young woman spoke of. His name had been Geano Hashmal, and died during the Battle of Lights. Two days prior, he had been a captive treated in the Infirmary, and Lucan had given him pain-numbing drugs added with a concentrated dosage of rare steroids - making the young man able to tear his hands free from his shackles without feeling anything at all.
Lucan could just as well have killed the posted guards himself.
At least he was able to ...console the poor serving girl afterwards for his troubles.
"I asked you to tell me of all incidents you could remember, daughter of Riven Trimak," he said and rose to his feet - face still shadowed underneath his brow. The glass of water hung loosely in his fingers, forgotten. "You are displeasing me, and I do not take kindly to that."
Saidin came alive in the room, and he slammed down a Shield upon her, should she be inclined - or even remotely able - to reach for the Source despite her given state-of-mind. Unless she tried to reach for her powers, she would not even notice that it was there.
What she would notice though, in her own way and hazy perception, was the tentacles of Air that Lucan wrapped around her wrists; how they hoisted her up in the air so that she could see him instead of the ceiling. Riven Sail let her hang there, suspended with her toes a few inches above the sheets - hovering.
"You do wish to please me though, don't you?" he asked her - pale grey eyes glinting underneath his brows, "Tell me about why you went to the Mistress of Novices together with Maria Norakovni Sedai. Leave nothing out this time, and I will reward you."
With a third limb of Air, Lucan caressed the scars upon her flat belly for emphasis.
She should have been scared, and in many ways, she was, but she was not in a stable enough mindset to recognize it. She was cold, helpless, and still lusting after the Yellow Asha'man. Her thoughts or feeling may not reflect the situation, but her eyes turned a shade of angry shade of gray reminiscent of a blade.
Her body may be naked, helpless, shaking and weak, but her eyes held the gleam that made her father a slayer of Shadows, and held the gleam that made her uncle the Amadician Harvester.
A gleam shared by only two people left in the world.
Matrim Elias Trimak...
... And Theresa Jansky Sedai.
The anger was born partly from being handled like dead meat, but also at forgetting an important detail.
In thanks mostly to the lust held for this man, the murderous gleam disappeared, leaving only a tired and weak body and mind.
"I am sorry, Lucan, I will please, please let me please!" She pleaded, with an edge of panic in her voice. "My former roommate awoke in the middle of the night, maddened by a dark dream along with two others. I chased her though the tower in my shift, and used my gift to calm her down. Please, I am sorry, Lucan, that is the truth of the matter!"
With the sensation of a brush stroke on her scar, she added after a strange shudder; "I confessed to Maria Sedai and Miahala Sedai my actions, and willingly went to the farms for the deed! I can give you the names of all that I know were involved, Lucan. My former roommate Novice Meya Snowlace, and her brother, who was a Soldier at the time, named Darom Snowlace, who became mad with rage and hatred. There was also the son of a servant, he was named Nate Hairsinger, and kept repeating numbers madly!
There was also Theresa Sedai, and her warder, the former Lord Silstrom there, along with Morad Asha'man and Jenna Sedai and Accepted Amairwyn and Dedicated Zander."
She knew who was involved, but none of the learning ranks truly knew anything about the investigation, other then rumors of a Dreamwalker attacking people in the world of dreams.
"Lucan, there was a rumor of an Indigo Asha'man who fell to something similar."
It was all she truly remembered, in this mad state, and she hoped it was enough for the man.
As an odd side though, she found the sight of the linens stained by human deeds to be quite curious.
Silently, scrutinizing her face as she spoke, Lucan absorbed both the dangerous glint that passed through her features as well as the words that rambled out of her mouth - the shift between the former and the latter.
There was a limit to how long he could keep the Accepted in this state before the mind shut down from exhaustion, yet Lucan knew means to prolong the time that had been given him. External stimuli would keep the young woman alert and compliant, until he let her rest and the serum thin out in her veins.
"Very good, Isabel," he said to her, the information being sorted behind the writhing shadows underneath his browridge - filed away and labeled to belong together with things he already knew. "That was not too hard was it? You are pleasing me already."
True to his word, he rewarded her by letting the tentacle of Air travel across her skin - caressing her soothingly. He watched the outline of the ephemeral limb as it grazed across her - leaving a subtle imprint cast in candlelight.
"Now, answer me this," he said - tone unchanging - cold control of the situation manifest in his vowels, "What is your exact affiliation with the current Master of Arms - the one they call the Reaper of the Yards?"
Though saidin, he stroked the length of her legs - letting her see the imprint he made as she was looking downwards. He kept speaking.
"Also, what happened to the Trimak heritage after the Reaper ended your father's life? Did you gain a share, or has all befallen your errant Mother? If you have access to it, how much wealth is there, and how is it accessible? Tell me finer details; rare objects and sums - allowances and land. All you have learned."
In promise of more, he paused the progress of his caress.
"Everything."
As the extended touch of the Yellow Asha'man glided down her skin, she could not help but shudder from both cold and pleasure. It was an interesting situation, but one she would not willingly allow if in control of her own mind.
At the moment, control was a commodity she did not benefit from.
Perhaps if she kept answering him, and pleasing him, she could find warmth? Perhaps by pleasing him, she could find some control over her immediate fate?
With the hope of warmth, she eagerly answers the Fiery Serpent.
"Caden Ives, the Master of Arms, the Reaper of the Yards is a man I recognize as a true warrior, a master of battle and martial arts, and a man I respect in that regard. I call him Master, for he has helped me become aware of certain limitations within myself. I call him Master, because he has earned the Title."
Not quite feeling the sensation of Lucan's weave, her shivering increases, making her wish she could warm the room with a simple weave.
As for the next question, her answer would not please him.
"I know nothing of the fate of my legacy, Asha'man, other then a locked estate at the edge of what will be Hama Valon. Perhaps the Blue Ajah may know more? I have heard that my father's former assistant, Liam Flowst, had taken a position as Steward of the Blue Ajah soon after uncle Morad took over as Ajah Head. Even during his long absence, Flowst could be seemed frequently within the Blue Ajah halls."
There was another who would know of the fate of the Trimak estate, one Zhao Dun Asha'man, a wielder of one of Riven's blades improved by the One Power. Another who might suspect would be Dwillon Sa'ji'alantin, another wielder of one of the special weapons.
Perhaps the Shadow was unaware of Riven creating them soon after being freed from the oaths?
Despite having learned that there was not a very close and dangerous relationship between the Reaper and the Accepted, the mention of the estate hidden in the construction site of Hama Valon was something that truly got Lucan's attention.
Locked away, you say, he thought as he trailed the goosebumps along the young woman's skin with both his eyes and his Powers. Locked, yet perchance not properly guarded... Since the Trimak daughter seemed ignorant of the topic, Lucan moved on with the ambition to take his enquiries and efforts elsewhere.
As he considered his next question, he was distracted by her shivering. Dressed in cooling lover's sweat and given that some rare symptoms of the truth serum may cause loss of bodily heat, Lucan saw the need of addressing her plight. She had, additionally, not shown him a bad time that night.
"Very good," he said, and let the words herald the touch of Fire to the air inside the room - warming gradually. "You are doing well, Accepted. Can you feel how pleased I am?"
It was a rhetorical question, one she would not have the breath to answer given what he did next to her - or rather his ephemeral extremity. "Next question," he said to her without much pause and lifted his glass of water to take a sip - watching from the end of the bed until her attention returned somewhat to him.
"Given that you also know the dance with death, besides the one designated to life, I am assuming that you have practiced together with your champion - Jip Gaidin." Lucan lowered his glass, watched the play of candlelight across her skin as she moved - his mind somewhere entirely else, "And in doing so, you must know his weaknesses. I want you to list all your observations in this aspect. Furthermore, I want you to tell me who else you have practiced with - including their weaknesses in dancing."
Betrayal; outright betrayal of her friends. Yet there was small chance Lucan would ever have benefit from such knowledge, it was still knowledge worth knowing.
In the end, all knowledge was worth knowing, and if Lucan could, he would learn as much as he could instead of being bereft of resources if faced with failure. Having to brazenly show his hand in a fight against a Gaidin, he would stand prepared - even if he would consider it a failure to begin with.
Warmth! Isabel cried mentally, her body reacting to the warmth quickly. She had pleased him enough to be granted a gift of warmth, and perhaps she could please him again?
"Their weakness..." Isabel whispered, obviously not enthusiastic about the question, but gasping an obvious moan of pleasure as the tendrils of air, now warm to the touch, glided down her skin so very softly. Looking deep into Lucan's eyes, she moans out his name in pleasure, even as the warrior within was trying to shine through, hoping to protect the person who was the balance to her very soul.
"Jip..." She begins, finding some inner strength from uttering his very name, "Jip Gaidin, my promised, will not strike unless it is absolutely needed, will only strike if duty and justice demand it, and only if he believes the strike will be true to his beliefs and cause minimal harm."
Before her inner strength faded away from the drugs, alcohol, hormones and Lucan's very touch, she added; "Though do not doubt that he will protect his loved ones with an inner ferocity rarely seen by the world."
Her words were all true, and it was exactly what Isabel's perception recognized as his greatest weakness, and strength. Though she did not add the latter part, as it was not asked.
As for the weakness of others, it was a simple answer, though one struggled to omit due to a few more gasps of pleasure.
"I see no weakness in the fighting skill of Master Ives, and the others I once trained with have moved beyond me in skill, due to my taking different studies within the last year. Kailitha has grown, and survived against opponents greater then her."
It was not fair, how could Lucan be so good? How could anyone know how to make her squirm so much?
"To be honest though," she adds after biting her lower lip in pleasure, "there are two others, Dedicated Pavel and Ji'dar Carma, who share the same weakness. The weakness being each other, take one out, and the other will make obvious mistakes from the deep worry over the other. There is also Vergil Drim'far'ji, who lacks discipline, even after being a member of the tower for so long. His weakness is his inexperience, lack of discipline, and a reckless nature."
Looking into the Asha'man's eyes, she offers one last, struggling to get her dazed mind in order - shutting out the afflictions upon her concentration to grasp for words.
"You, dear Lucan, your weakness is your drive for success, the same weakness I once shared. Pride leads to the grave, haste leads to a grave. Patience, and a humble state of mind will show you the things the Light has to show. In the Light, questions are answered"
One could only see this statement as ironic; since Lucan was much more then he appeared. Isabel could have walked a dark path, with a head full of pride.
But someone literally beat it out of her, leaving a young woman ready to learn.
Deriving words from her was like milking an an animal's teat, yet deriving things of solid significance was like squeezing the milk out of a stone. What Isabel told Lucan about Jip Gaidin's skills and application thereof was something he had already learned through other resources.
If anything, the others she mentioned had more to offer. Yet as for the Reaper of the Yards, whom Lucan was surprised to be mentioned, the Fiery Serpent knew more than enough already. In fact, he knew exactly how it was to fight the man from his yore Three Arches catechism.
Then... despite how he was rewarding her body in order to coax out more from her mind, she pursed her lips and began to talk about him - as if she was rebelling deep inside.
Interesting, was Lucan's collected thought as he watched her squirm like a worm upon a hook. At some level, she must be fighting back - lying to herself in thinking that this was not what she wanted when she followed me into my study. True, she might not have counted on being raped of both mind and body, drugged and feverish for his attentions...
...Yet he had seen the look in her eyes even before he handed her the wine.
"Oh, Isabel," he muttered under his breath, not really talking to her since she would not remember what he said, "Do you truly think that prideful haste in my ambitions has let me come this far? As for the Light's answers, I have come to understand that in learning both the Shadow's and the Light's answers, I can see things more clearly."
The glass of water in his hand was half empty, and his shadowed gaze fell to it momentarily. Is there anything else I should be asking her right away? He listened to the noises filling the room while he thought - very aware that he had not much time left before she fell into ignorance. He would have to hydrate her too, in order to compensate for the symptoms of all the drugs in her system.
"Isabel," he said and looked up towards her again. He lowered her down upon the bed - released her in all ways except for the Shield. She had gotten her fill, now there would be no more enjoyment for her. He sat down upon the edge of the bed with the glass of water in his hands - looking away from her. "Do you secretly hate the current Master of Arms, in any sense, for killing your Father?"
Perhaps he could use her feelings for his own personal gain, if he knew which ones to exploit.
He turned his head and looked at her - holding out the glass of water towards her. His almond-shaped eyes were cast in red candlelight. "Have you ever dreamed of killing him for what he did? Be honest with me, not to mention yourself."
Looking into the glass of water, and finding out that she was thirstier then she has ever remembered in her short life, her body began to feel lethargic, and slow, and tingly. Perhaps it was the soft warm bed, with the still vivid memories of pleasure?
The lethargic feeling did not last though, as all relaxed feelings were shattered by the mention of the Master of Arms.
The question was one she never had fully pondered, at least until now. Did she hate the Master of Arms, Caden Ives?
No.
"No, I do not hate him. I dislike him for causing me such a great loss, but it was an action my father earned through misdeeds. I do not blame Caden Ives for his actions, because my father would have done the same, if the roles were reversed."
This was not something she knew for fact, but it was something she firmly believed. Something she believed as dearly as the belief that her father was under the influence of the shadow.
As her mind returned to the question at hand, she looked at Lucan for a long moment, then continued; "I also am very fond of him for sacrificing so much for others. One's Master is not there to be liked, or loved, nor to be everyone's friend, but is there to be respected, obeyed, and feared."
Perhaps she had not spent a great deal of time with the man, but the few moments spent together meant the world to her, and had taught her much. She would do her best to ensure such a man survived to see the final battle, a task she feared might be difficult, but it was a task prophesized by the Amyrlin Seat to be fated to be true.
What would he think of her though, at the moment? Tired, breathing heavily, drugged, cold, weak, wet and naked...
As the response to her own inner question came to mind, she began shivering significantly more, even though the room was heating up. Her breathing became slightly difficult, much like if the room lacked air.
Light, what could Lucan be thinking?
In seeing her body beginning to shut down, the drugs in her blood together with her exerting activities having exploited water deposits and energy from her, Lucan sighed and climbed up next to her in the bed - gently pulling her up against his shoulder.
"Hush hush," he said and put the glass of water to her lips, "that's enough. Drink up now, you need it. We can talk more some other time..."
Yes, further conversations were needed. At least he had learned that she was a flawed instrument to use against the Reaper - since she did not hold enough latent hate for him inside her. He had learned enough for a first session, and he schooled himself to patience. He would arrange for another session at a later time, betwixt acting upon the new knowledge he had gleaned.
Looking into her fluttering eyes, Lucan removed the glass when she was finished - having spilled half the water down her throat - pooling there. "Good girl, now rest..." he said and kissed her forehead - eyes glaring across her light hair, "Rest..."
His tattooed hand crossed her face, and shut her eyelids.
"Isabel..."
"Isabel... Wake up..."
Lucan nudged her underneath the sheets. The sun was shining through the tall windows, and the herbs of the Yellow Ajah Courtyard smelled even more when the dawning rays fell directly upon them.
"Though I would rather have you stay here, this cherished night might be our downfall if you do not get ready for your Classes."
The smile that would greet her was open and languid, and his hand brushed her cheek in a tender 'hello'. His dark hair framed eyes glittering with the sunlight. "Though you regrettably have to go," he said to her, "I can but prey this was something beyond a thrill-of-the-moment." His fingers combed back strands from her eyes, and he dispelled the image of yanking out a fistful of hair and ramming it down her neck. The beasts were awake as well. "What I am saying..."
"..is that I have no regrets."
"... Is that I have no regrets." A familiar voice said curiously. Regret what? Isabel pondered, feeling very dizzy for some odd reasons. To make things even stranger, she felt a strange numbness behind her forehead, though that did occasionally happen when she recovered from a hangover.
That voice was indeed familiar, was it not the voice of...
"Lucan," Isabel speaks with an obvious slur in her voice, "where am I?"
What was even stranger then feeling dizzy, and having a numb forehead was the feeling between her legs, an unclean feeling, matched by a sticky sweat throughout her body.
Luckily, she did not smell bad, or at least she could not smell anything but a pleasant fragrance hanging in the air. Hopefully, Lucan could not smell anything, but he would soon if she did not hurry and bathe.
When she realized what that particular feeling between her legs was, she went pale in shock, as fragments of memory returned to her. There had been... pleasure... so much pleasure! Was it with Lucan though?
Looking at the smiling Asha'man, she said; "Lucan... Did we... Dear light!"
She could clearly remember one image from the night before, the sight of Lucan's face as he released his own personal pleasure. What would her late husband say? Or Zander? She knew he loved her, wanted her, and the feeling was shared. She even suspected her late husband would approve.
How could I? Did I really do this?
As any man would, given the lady's reaction being what Isabel's were this given morning afterwards, Lucan let his smile falter a bit - subtly hinting at hurt feelings in a Asha' manesque way.
"Yes, Isabel," he murmured and looked away, "and as far as I could tell, you were enjoying it too. We... danced all night until you passed out on top of me."
There was no use trying to approach her physically now, he estimated, since she was still gradually remembering all the things she said to him, and did to him, before he had inserted the second component of the truth serum. Instead, Lucan climbed out of the round bed and walked across the room in the sunlight. As Atha'an Miere, he was not the least shy by origin, yet even less so given the company and his ulterior motives.
"The serving ranks have already been in the room outside and taped a bath for me. I let them in while you were sleeping, since I did not want to wake you." He glanced over his shoulder as he picked up a tray of food and brought it to the bed. "Oh, don't worry they were not in here. No one will learn about our transgression."
Standing by the bed, he set down the tray next to her. He avoided looking into her eyes, since she both needed the privacy of her recollections and Lucan needed to continue play the slightly hurt lover. "Since I wager you have Classes and duties to attend to, you are more than welcome to take a bath first. I wanted to wake you up a bit early, so that... Well, you have yet an hour at your disposal."
Seeming conflicted a moment, Lucan then sat down close to her upon the sheets. He raised his grey eyes to hers and brushed back some of her hair. "Judging from what you let on, I think I know the answer," he said to her, "yet I still feel that I must ask."
If Cora Sedai and Lycos Asha'man had taught him anything in common, it was how to maintain a solid facade - to only show the world what you wanted to display. The look Lucan gave Isabel was the sum of both female and male teachings in how to act innocent and Light-blinded. "Do you regret this?"
As Lucan spoke, she paid careful attention to his voice, and eyes, and found herself moved. His body face and voice showed a truth hard to deny, a side of Lucan Isabel could not ignore. He had though about everything; a bath, breakfast, and her feelings.
Sure, Isabel felt horrid, dizzy with a growing headache, and dirty, but a bath could do wonders for her mind, and body...
As he spoke, she listened to him carefully, and as her mind truly woke up, respectfully. She looked into his façade, while carefully picking at the berries and eggs of the days breakfast, and felt for him.
Though would it be safe to admit this? She had been rather rude, with her awakening words. It had never been said that a Trimak awoke with kindness or grace...
She wished she could have remembered more about the night before, but by the way Lucan behaved, something important must have happened, something relevant enough to display hurt feelings by her behavior.
Even if she did not remember the night's festivities, her body did, especially since her breasts and genitals felt a certain way they haven't felt in years.
Sitting up, and causing the blanket to fall, displaying her breasts in the process, she reaches over and gently kisses him on his left cheek, and says the only thing she could safely say.
"I will only regret if our actions within the confines of this bed reach the ears of the Amyrlin Seat, or the Mistress of Novices. In your case, I would only fear if the Silent M'Hael found out about our forbidden deed."
Deep within her mind, she adds; "and regret if my dear Zander finds out..."
Her voice may be trained enough to show strength and confidence, but she was not experienced enough to make all of her features show the confidence behind her words, especially after waking from such a tiring night.
Inside, Lucan was carefully reading Isabel's body language and her eyes - watching as the memories were bound to seep back into her mind as the brain woke up from its forced drug-induced slumber and the natural slumber of.. well, sleep.
When she reached up to lay a kiss on his cheek, he closed his eyes for sake of effect - yet having learned enough to see that she was indeed a bit regretful. It was nothing but expected, but some strange little part of him wanted to cling to the words she had actually spoken - that she wasn't. That's odd...
She had said that the only thing she regretted would be if the knowledge of the night would spread.
Is there someone specific beyond the obvious in mind?
Lucan opened his eyes and gave her a brief smile, telling her that she had soothed his heart somewhat. He reached out with his hand to urge her closer for a kiss, but he made the hand stop. Instead, he closed it and slowly dropped it to the sheets. "I... feel that you are conflicted, so even though I waked you in order to enjoy a blissful morning in your company, I'll let you eat and bathe in peace, if that is what you'd prefer."
Regardless of her choice, the memories would return to her rather quickly - so either she would have her recapture in private or in his company. He feigned to try another smile. "Would you rather I leave you?"
There was an hour he had fitted out for them, in consideration and ambition to learn her feelings, where feasting and eating - if not other things came up - were arranged. Isabel had probably already acknowledged the caring arrangement, but it remained to see if she was too vulnerable to share it.
Instead of kissing her, Lucan laid his hand on hers - eyes flickering towards her exposed self. He looked away quickly - playing the regretful lover that did no longer have the right to witness what he'd already seen.
Let her be as conflicted as possible, yes, and bind her with guilt if nothing else.
As Lucan glanced at her, she felt incredibly uncomfortable, and it was obvious when she looked away from him, quickly covering her breasts. She did accept the situation, and trusted the man enough to believe that the night was enjoyable, yet as she grew more awake, she struggled to understand the why of the situation.
The silence had grown long, helping her realize that she did not answer his question. In response, she took the blanket and covered herself, while the man watched her. She was definitely not comfortable, and deeply wanted tome privacy.
The man had offered her a way out, and she took it, knowing that he probably would not like the answer.
"I think I would prefer to take this bath alone, Lucan... Forgive me. I just... I just need some time to... Gather my thoughts."
It took all of her energy to keep herself appearing composed, and she was sure a great many would not be able to see through her disguise.
She knew Lucan did though...
Oh Jip, where are you when I need you...
The sudden though was somewhat a shock, which was physically expressed by her eyes dilating. She would have though Zander would be the first she would desire to see, but Jip? Kind, innocent Jip?"
Looking down upon the sheets, Lucan sighed lightly. But he looked up again, with a smile that did not reach his eyes - inducing further guilt into her in appearing to look out for her wishes despite his own. "No reason to ask forgiveness. I understand, but hope I will get another chance to bathe with you in the near future. This was no casual affair for me, I only ask you to bear that in mind."
Climbing out of the bed, Lucan walked to his wardrobes - which were far from filled - and pulled on his black wide-ankled seafaring breeches. He glanced about the hollow interior before taking out the white coat that had given him his salt-name.
"I'm afraid that I have no robe for you," he said and walked back to the bed, "so you can borrow this while you eat and make your way to the bath. I shall be awaiting you in the the outer study once you are ready to leave for your Classes."
With a final smile for her, he draped his threadbare, torn coat around her shoulders and walked out of the bedroom - his sea-folk gait only hinting that he wanted to stay.
He left the double doors to the inner study open for her, so that she could smell the hot bathwater that was perfumed with lemon blossoms - a trait of the Yellow Ajah. He walked past the heavy bronze tub, along with the trail of their discarded clothing, and closed the doors once he reached the outer study - giving her the privacy that she had asked for.
Bare-chested, Lucan sat down by his desk and began to read the mornings reports and schedules, answering letters from different parts of the Ajah and confirming time he had available for the Infirmary.
Have a happy recollection, he thought with a private smile - mind still on the ravishing woman in the inner part of his apartments. We'll see how you think of me once your memories seep back into your mind.
His tattooed hand shifted, stroked the length of the quill with his thumb - his own recollection of her a pleasant reprieve. I'll definitely keep her, he thought before beginning to write again, Regardless of her own wishes.
