First Place - Most Plausible
First Place - Most "RJ-esque"
(NOTE: This entry was unusually long, and has been broken up into several sections, because my HTML editor wouldn't allow me to present it as one piece)
(Continued From Part One.)
For Perrin, the ride toward Jehennah was oddly tranquil. Mounted on Stepper, and perched upon the hillcrest, he could see the Ghealdanin capital as it sprawled recklessly over its outer walls. For Perrin it was something of a shock. He had seen large cities, Caemlyn, and Cairhein, and even Tear or Illian, yet Jehennah took him aback. For all their expanse and grandeur, they were..neat. Well maybe not exactly neat, but a good deal more organized than the teeming heap of humanity before him. Low walls criss-crossed the city, cutting it into a tangled warren of quarters or districts, often slicing through one another, or marked at their intersection by a squat tower. From this high vantage, Perrin could see that more than one wide square had been divided by those walls run amok. Masuri Sedai had told him that the city had been divied up among warring nobles on many occasions in its history, and that its ruler often held more sway outside the city than he did in the district right outside his palace. Perrin could well believe it. Ghealdan was notorious for unstable government. And inept rulers.
As his sharp gaze swept across the city, Perrin did note that flags bearing Alliandre's house sign, some sort of white flower, hung from every wall and tower, even where the walls were crumbling. Masuri had told him to expect a riot of flags and banners, all marking which lord held this quarter, and what lady that, so the uniformity of flags was unexpected. Public opinion seemed to hold that Queen Alliandre Kigarin was unlike her predecessors. A woman well worthy of respect. She had managed to hold her throne while the Prophet's mobs swarmed her capitol, after all. And with the Prophet gone south, she seemed to be consolidating her rule nicely. Perrin told himself that he had no business appraising the actions of a queen, but he did have to admire the way Alliandre was said to have handled the crisis. With a rueful shake, Perrin recalled that he had met the man they called the Prophet, and he had been nothing more than a simple Shienaran soldier. So much had changed.
Even up here, far above, the wind carried the odors of the city, rancid garbage and horse offal, mixed with the sour smell of human sweat that Perrin had learned to tolerate with when immersed in large groups. Even with his acute sense of smell, it was not exactly a bad odor, yet combined with the filth of Jehennah, the encompassing stench was so vile that Perrin rubbed his nose.
"What is it, husband?" inquired Faile, astride her glossy black mare, Swallow. Her dark tilted eyes flicked toward him, and then back at the road that wound down the hill. Perrin could detect a scent that indicated her heightened wariness, above and distinct from the softly herbal scent of her soap and the scent that was just _her_. "You sense trouble?" With a gesture almost impossibly fast, she slipped a dagger into her slim gloved hand. No fewer than three similar daggers hung from her belt, and he knew that she kept at least two others hidden about her person. Faile brandished her knives all too often these days, which Perrin took as sign of her unease. Given whom they were traveling with, Perrin was amazed she hadn't actually used one yet. Thank the Light for little graces.
"Nothing, Faile. I was just thinking I'd rather breathe clean country air one last time, before we head down." He truly preferred the country life over city but for the wolves. Wolves avoided large cities, and his thoughts were his own. Outside a city, the wolves were numerous, and shutting their out calls was often difficult. However, Perrin would gladly put up with the wolves rather than dive into that midden before him. He turned to where he heard footsteps approach. A woman, by the sound. There was a clamor of jostling horses and men as the mounted party around them shifted to reveal a young woman, dressed in Berelain's colors, as she approached.
Ignoring the soldiers, and Faile, the dark-haired Mayener girl walked right up to Stepper, and turned her green-eyed gaze up at Perrin.
"Lord Perrin, my Lady First would speak with you at your earliest convenience. She also wishes me to inform you that she has laid out a light repast so that you may converse with leisure." For a second time, Perrin knuckled his nose. The scent wafting from his wife was sharp and bitter, although her expression hadn't changed. Why did the woman need to send a messenger to him _now_ when she knew he was due to return to camp, and she knew he was with Faile? And the very suggestion that he would _dine_ with her! The woman was shameless.
"Very well, Evonne. You tell Berelain that I will send for her when my wife and I return." There. That should do for Berelain and Faile. He knew that Berelain's personal servant would tell her mistress his words exactly, and Perrin had made a point to constantly use the words "my wife" to refer to Faile. And maybe Faile would take note on how he had dismissed her request. Maybe.
"Wil, take ten men down to the city and try to find a decent inn. Something near the palace, mind you." Perrin trusted Wil al'Seen not to judge the quality of an inn by the prettiness of the serving maids. The Two Rivers man was almost girlish in his good looks, and Perrin never did trust a man who smiled so much, but Wil had proven his worth, and Perrin knew that he was not easily swayed by a lovely face or a fine pair of ankles. He had far too many women swooning over him for that.
"Aram, take the rest of the men back to camp. My wife and I will return to camp shortly." Hopefully, they would be returning _together_. He needed to speak with Faile. Alone. Aram grimaced but nodded. He was often reluctant to leave Perrin's side.
As the men departed to complete their orders, Perrin rode up beside Faile. The tall Saldaean woman was in a dark brown silk dress today, with narrow divided skirts and a high snug bodice. Fine golden rings gleamed on her ears and, uncharacteristically, she wore a close-fitting necklace of gold links and bright amber stones which Perrin had to admit set off her coloring splendidly. She wore a linen cloak of rich cream over it all to protect from the dust of the road. A falcon was worked on the breast, and two more were on the backs of her soft leather gloves. She looked every inch like a grand lady, and not for the first time, he wondered why she had married a simple blacksmith like him. She was looking at him intently, still giving off that acrid scent.
"I don't what has put the bee in your ear, Faile, but I do grow weary of your anger with me. I have done nothing to encourage the woman. Nothing! Light be Blessed, I make an effort to take you with me everywhere! And I avoid her to all extents possible! I cannot have this. I will not have this. I need you on my side, Faile. I do not wish to wage a battle every time I lay down at night!" Perrin felt uncomfortable being so forceful with his wife, but she seemed to take it all in stride. "Now, I want you at this meeting and I would appreciate your counsel. But I don't need your jealousy, and I won't appreciate this nonsense!" Her wide mouth broke into a smile, and the scent that was just her wafted strongly. Maybe he was learning how to get a handle on his wife, after all.
She began forcefully. "Perrin, I -" but her voice trailed off. She shook her head and took a deep breath. "Since you asked so sweetly, of course I will I attend." She reached over and patted his hand, though he scarcely felt it through his steel-backed gauntlet. "Shall we go back to camp?" Not really waiting for his answer, she gave Swallow a tiny nudge and took off. He urged Stepper to follow.
The short journey back down the hill was uneventful as they rode side by side into the depths of the camp. They had arrayed themselves neatly on both sides of the road, with the greater part of the soldiers, including the Two Rivers men, camping on one side, and the tents of the Aes Sedai and Wise Ones opposite. The tents of the Mayeners were on the opposite side as well. Berelain's sumptuous pavillion was situated exactly opposite the long tent that he shared with Faile. Perrin was sure Berelain had placed her pavilion there with intention.
As they rode up to the picket lines, a mismatched pair approached them. Jeffer Aysaren, the son of Emond's Field's only potter, took the reins of Stepper as he dismounted, and a short Cairheinin woman, Lilaveare or something close, dressed in men's clothing, took Swallow's reins. Faile had taken two dozen or so of Selande's "society" into her service, and they took their duties quite seriously. As she led the horse away, Perrin shook his head at the sight of the diminutive woman wearing a sword. She did move with a certain feral grace, though. Almost like a Maiden. A very short Maiden. Come to mind, Perrin thought he had noticed Selande, and her cohort Camaile deep in conversation with Bain and few other _Far Dareis Mai_. Perhaps they were sharing notes, or some such.
Perrin ducked into his tent, and shrugged out of his cloak. Inside the long, spacious tent he found Aram waiting for him. Flinching inwardly, he dispatched Aram to summon Berelain. The dark young Tu'atha knuckled his forehead a darted off. Perrin had acquired a fierce young wolfhound in the former Tinker. He was quite loyal, and knew what he was about with that sword of his, but his dark gaze was unnerving, paticularly when he was looking at him, or his wife. Perrin sometimes worried about him. Perhaps Aram hadn't adjusted to his new way of life as much as he would like to admit. Perrin often felt sorry for him.
Faile swept in, and handed her gloves and cloak to yet another woman wearing a sword. He shook his head again. He joined his wife at the table that had been erected, and gratefully accepted the pewter goblet of water she pressed into his palm. They passed the while talking, and laughing, and the talk turned to children. Faile was eager to start a family, and Perrin longed to replace the one had lost. Not that he could ever replace them in his heart, his Ma and Da, Adora, Deselle and little Paet, and all of his aunts and cousins, but Perrin thought he liked the idea of being called "Da." The talk made him think wistfully of the day when he could put down his axe and live his own life. A scratch at the tent flap caught his attention.
"Enter."
The trio that entered was nothing like Perrin had ever expected to see in his lifetime. Another measure of how things had changed. The tall man with the haggard face, more than twice Perrin's age, looked like a farmer right off his farm. Except for his distinctive black coat he would have, that is. He was one of the Dedicated, one of the levels of Asha'man. Names that meant little to Perrin, but he was a man who could channel. Once that would have turned Perrin's bowels to pudding, but no longer. Faile smelled edgy, but she rose and greeted him with a graceful dip and nod. "Welcome Master Neald." Accompanying the man were two women. One was elegance personified, a lovely Cairheinin in an elaborately decorated pale green dress. The other was tall and rangy, with dark red hair heavily streaked with grey, in a plain white blouse and brown skirt. The woman in green was an Aes Sedai, but amazingly enough she seemed to defer to the other. Merava was a Wise One, and she was Seonid's keeper, after a fashion. When they had begun their journey, Perrin could detect a sense of defeat in Seonid, and a scent of triumphant superiority was flowing from the Wise Ones. But now, now their scents had changed. While not entirely merged, they were a good deal more harmonious than they had been. That was interesting. Both of the women kept a carefully maintained distance from the black-coated man. They both gave off a scent of profound disquiet.
"Be welcome Seonid Sedai, Wise One Merava," Faile greeted the women, and gave them full deep curtsies. "Please, won't you all be at comfort." She gestured to the table, lined with collapsible canvas-bottomed stools. "Master Neald, please, won't you seat yourself?" When Merava glanced at Faile, Perrin noted with surprise that a warm heathery scent wafted from the Aiel woman. Perrin had learned to associate that smell with approval.
"With respect, Lady Faile, I prefer to stand," the Asha'man said curtly. He then took a place across the table from Seonid and Merava, and from where he could keep an eye on them and the tent flap. He glowered at the short Aes Sedai and the tall Wise One.
Perrin had come to realize that the Asha'man saw no real difference between Aes Sedai or Wise Ones. Or perhaps any woman who could channel. They saw them all as a threat. For her part, Merava glared right back, while Seonid demurred into her water cup.
"Perrin Aybara, I have a request from Seonid Traighan." The raw boned Aiel woman looked uncomfortable sitting on the stool. Why couldn't the Aes Sedai speak for herself? Perrin hadn't been able to figure out exactly what sort of shifting currents where at play among the Aes Sedai and their Wise One keepers. "She wishes me to ask that her Warder be allowed to attend this meeting. She is of the opinion that he has knowledge of the region, and would be a help in planning to take this Prophet." Seonid blushed, and emitted a scent of contentment. "The other Wise Ones can see no harm in this, nor can I. The Aes Sedai can be a woman of sense and fairness." Bright spots of color bloomed in Seonid's cheeks yet again, and a scent of surprise joined the already confused smell in the tent. Perrin could only shrug.
"Very well. Let him enter" he said simply. Seonid rose and ducked out of the tent with celerity, to return with a tall man in leather jerkin sewn with metal rings. Dark, shoulder length hair framed a rough face with skin that could only be described as weather-beaten.When the Aes Sedai and Warder were together, Perrin detected an odd scent from the two of them. They smelled...secure. And complete.
Seonid spoke, in the lilting musical tones that Perrin still associated with Moiraine. "Lord Aybara, this is my Warder, Aldien Horwy. He's Ghealdanin." Aldien took a position behind both Merava and Seonid. "He may have some suggestions of worth." Merava tossed an inscrutable look over her shoulder at the man, and drained her cup.
"Sister, would you like some more water?" Seonid called Merava _sister_! Even Faile looked taken aback. It was truly an awkward moment. The awkwardness of which was broken as Gaul sauntered in, followed by Bain, Chiad, and Selande Darengil. "I see you Seia Cair, Faile t'Aybara."
"I see you Gaul. I see you Bain, I see you Chiad." As the greetings continued, Perrin watched Selande fall behind Faile, to stand at one of her shoulders, while the two Maidens took the other. Gaul took a place behind Perrin, flanked by Aram who had slipped into the tent unobtrusively. Selande was whispering into Faile's ear, but Perrin heard it all clearly "...she speaks only to her Aes Sedai and Captain Gallene. That is all." Faile was having Berelain watched, it seems. He had chided his wife about her spying but with no effect. And he practically implored her to stay as far away from Berelain as possible. For her part, amazingly enough, she had complied. It was the other woman who flaunted herself at every opportunity, even bathing herself at night, hidden only by thin linen screens which were illuminated from behind and displayed her movements like one of those shadow pantomimes he had seen in Cairhein. Right across from his tent! As if the camp wasn't full of soldiers! The woman had no sense of decency! None at all.
His attention was focused by a sharp sniff from Selande. Like other members of her "society," Selande wore tight coat and snug breeches like a man, and her glossy black hair was cut to her shoulders and held back by blue ribbon. She wore a sword that seemed smaller than most he had seen, and a green silken cord was tied about her upper arm, clipped by small golden falcon. Perrin didn't know what it meant, but he had an idea. She stood with impressive presence, for a woman so small.
"Well, where is she?" Faile demanded. " I weary of always waiting on that woman!" No need to ask who "that woman" was. Perrin knew all to well. She arranged her skirts brusquely, then folded her hands neatly on the table.
Perrin caught a wiff of spicy, floral perfume moments before the flaps were opened by Havien Nurelle, a Lieutenant in the Mayener Winged Guards. "Ladies and Lords assembled, know that My Lady First, she comes," he anounced formally. With that, Berelain sur Paendrag, High Seat of House Paeron, First of Mayene, swept in, slinking like her bones had lost their firmness, with Lord Captain Bertain Gallene on her heels. The stunningly beautiful woman wore a pearly grey riding dress that was embroidered with blue around the hem and cuffs. For all it's high lace-trimmed collar, the upper part of her dress was as snug as a Tarabonner's, and was adorned with blue ribbons interesecting across her heart. Those swooping ribbons could have no other purpose than to call attention to her bosom. No decency. He gritted his teeth, and watched his wife grip her hands tightly together. As she took the stool on the far end of the table, Perrin saw Neald look over her slim figure. Aram's eyes tightened, and Gaul diverted his. For a wonder, that scent of approval that he had noticed from Merava when she looked at Faile, was also there as she looked at Berelain.
Berelain's Aes Sedai advisor, Annoura Larisen, dressed in drab grey wool had entered all but unnoticed beside the Mayener ruler. With an odd glance at Seonid and Merava, and a wary one at Neald, she dropped herself on the stool beside Berelain. Nurelle entered and stood over Berelain's shoulder. The tent was filled with a tension so thick, Perrin could cleave it with his axe.
It was Faile who spoke. "Seonid Sedai, will Masuri Sedai be attending?"
Seonid's eyes darted toward Merava, and it was the Aiel woman who replied. "Faile t'Aybara, two Aes Sedai are enough at one table." Faile looked slightly taken aback, but she knew as much as he about the situation among Rand's sworn Aes Sedai and the Wise Ones. With bright spots of color blooming on her pale cheeks, Seonid nodded, and studiously ignored the questioning look from Annoura.
Perrin cleared his throat. He walked up behind his wife, and put a hand on her shoulder. Then he spoke. "Berelain, have you prepared what you will say to Alliandre?" He could feel Faile tense under his grip.
Setting down her cup, Berelain smiled sweetly. Light, but she was a beautiful woman! "Of course, Perrin." She made it seem all so silly, like a conversation over berry tea and sugar-tarts. "I am well accustomed to dealing with rulers. My Lord father taught me well the art of diplomacy," she added with an amused glace at Faile. There was a hint of. _something_ when she mentioned her father...was it condescenion? She seemed to be emphasizing her father's rank. Was it a strike at Faile? That was silly. Faile's father was an enormously powerful lord, easily as prominant as a First of Mayene.
She went on, still smiling sweetly. "Tomorrow, You and Lady Faile shall accompany me and I will present the Lord Dragon's letter to Her Majesty, with all due ceremony and comity." She seemed to put an odd inflection on Faile's title, too. "Then, of course I shall convince her of our intention, and she will welcome us like long lost cousins."
Faile sniffed, and Berelain smiled at her. A thick cloying scent of triumph surrounded her for some reason, but it was tinged with insecurity. Faile drew herself up, and her scent began to radiate command. "Well, Lady First, you may think it all as simple as that, but Alliandre Kigarin is not likely to succumb to your...charms," and with a deliberate glance at Berelain's provocative display, she added "obvious as they may be. She is a cautious woman, and shall not look warmly upon an army of Dragonsworn, " she paused for effect, "appearing out of thin air outside her capitol. Mere honeyed-words and silken...promises will not set her at ease, I can assure you that."
The Mayener woman raised her chin to a icy tilt, and was about to speak when Merava cut in. "If this Alliandre Kigarin is a woman of sense as we have been told, then she should be stupid not to welcome us beneath her roof." Her tone suggested that she thought she might well be stupid. "We bear the honor of the *Car'a'carn*." Her tone suggested that no further discussion was required.
"It is settled, then," said Perrin, solemnly. "Now, about this Prophet. Master Aldien, Seonid Sedai has said you may have sugestions. Let's hear them."
The Warder drew himself up, and cleared his throat. He gave off a bracing scent that indicated tension. "Yes, Lord Aybara. It has been some years since I was Vice-Captain to the old queen, Lianors Santegan, but I remember this district well. Over to the north of the city, you will find a small valley-"
Perrin listened intently as Aldien gave forth his suggestions, and spoke as little as possible as Captain Gallene devised a sound strategy, with comments from Gaul, as well as Faile and even Selande. When it was done, and all had departed save his wife, he turned to Faile and gave her a fierce embrace. " Light Faile, I think we might just pull this off, _without_ losing or heads. We might do just that."
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(Continued in Part Three; Return to Part One)