Posted on July 30-August 12, 1998 on WoT Alliance BBS
Category: WoT Alternate Reality

A Coronation And Other Events

Ulrike roamed the Dark Palace. Strange, most of the Dark Sisters seemed absent, their male companions too. Where were them? Ariella, Egwene2, Moridin, Demandred, Ceralic and all others? Actually this fact should help her now, but ... The palace felt empty ... dead. A surprising sadness overwhelmed her. She had asked Alcair'rahien to inform Flame or Elrys, she needed to meet them. On her way to the garden she stopped at Carramaena's rooms.

"Carramaena,... oh, don't you mind, if I say simply Carra? ... First I want to thank you for Alcair's bigger rooms. He likes them, especially that they are so near the pantry." The Dark Sister sighed, nodded and held an apparent endless scroll up - a food bill. Ulrike flinched and hurried to continue.

"But I wondered that we hadn't a really good party this month. Now Sundara is acting and you are acting-acting Great Mistress of the Dark ..." She suppressed her grin and showed a straight face. "... and we need a proper ceremony for both of you upon your assuming office." An enthusiastic smile appeared on the young girl's face. Under the table a delighted yelp was heard. Ulrike realized that Darkhound lay there in his dog form, licking Carra's boots.
Finally she decided to place a little bait additionally. "It were nice to meet all once again. The many newcomers too. The Light Warriors (or how do they call themselfes now?), the neutral ones and of course the Dark Family. I got the impression that many prominent members are absent and maybe they didn't get the news yet. Certainly they won't miss the opportunity to congratulate you and Sundara." She showed an innocent expression. "It is not an empty title, we all know that." For a short moment fury blazed in the Dark Sister's eyes and - was it uncertainty? Darkhound, feeling the emotional change, cowered down. Then a dertermined smile appeared.
"A good idea. The invitations will be sent immediately. I think in three days is a good time." She didn't wait for Ulrike's nod. "There will be a great feast. I assure you, all will come, trust me."
Ulrike did trust her words. If need be Sundara and Carramaena would drag the guests personally to the party. It was now the matter of a little power demonstration.

Satisfied Ulrike left Carra and took the way to the garden. Hopefully she would find one of the wolf-kin there.


"Shards and bloody ashes," muttered Kiriath, a trail of other obscure imprecations following the phrase he had recently uttered, "Their conversation was warded."
"Do either of them have a Bond?" asked Mazrin.
"Naw. I don't think so, except for their ..ah.. interesting exploits."
"That's another part to the history of the board," popped up Verin, off in the background. "The Bonda--"
"No, Verin. At least we'd better not. What would those newbies think of the board, then?"
"What do they think of us now?"
"Good point," agreed the gleeman.
"I did catch one phrase that wasn't warded. Apparently they tied off the weaves a bit early, or they just dissipated."
"So what's the phrase?"
"A good idea."
A frown. "That really helps."
"But it does. How many good ideas have we actually popped up with lately?"
The gleeman thought for a small few minutes, his rambling mind thinking so quickly about pointlessly obscure things that it didn't take him long at all. "Not many."
"Exactly," said the insane Mazrin Fain, "So what would a good idea imply?"
Many comments were thrown about, ranging from, "Someone thought for once?" to, "Something good will happen?" and finally ending with the gleeman smiling cheerfully. "I imagine it would mean all of those things. It means that--"
"Someone thought something good will happen, and created a good idea based on that."
"How'd ya guess?"
"We all ramble sometime in our lives."
"So what does that lead up to?"
Fain shrugged, "I do not know," just as a pigeon flied in the room, a mockingraven tossing taunts out of its beak, "But I do now."
"What does it say?" said Kir, barely remaining calm.
"It says: Something good will happen. That something will be a great feast."
"Who is it from?"
"It's signed: A gleeman."
"That helps."
"No, it doesn't. It means we have a renegade gleeman --apparently able to break through wards-- spying on the Dark Palace." The gleeman frowned, "It could be Asmodean. He's been a wild card ever since I thought him back. And he's still in the Dark."
Fain sucked in a deep breath, "Good thing there's a feast."
"Yes," said Kir, eyes twinkling, "I'll get to eat!"
The two Intrigleemen swooned for a second at the thought of ...all that food.. but stopped, looking each other in the eyes.
"What's wrong?" asked Fain.
"Remember what happened at the last feast."
"Ulrike's?" Kir nodded, replying, "I was taken here by Osan'gar and took control of the Intrigleemen."
"So you're wondering what could happen now," mused Fain.

Kiriath, Undercover Intrigleeman
Ready to return a renegade to his rightful ranks..

It had been a long time for Nightfall. Much had changed and his old chambers were certainly in disarray. However as he recalled, that was how he left it.ill it there was much sadness as he came to realize much of the Dark Family was either absent or elsewhere. As he too had been. The journey back to Shayol Ghul had been fairly uneventfully. Still he knew that things might get back in full swing soon. A slight knock on the door and a servant appeared with a note in hand. This was still unusual for Nightfall but it was all a matter of perpective he supposed. As he read it he was glad to hear Carra, the newest and the acting-acting Great Mistress was finally throwing a party. It had been ages since one had been around. Perhaps Ulrike would a like a dance or two. It had been even longer since his last dance but Nightfall was determined to make the most of it. Rummaging through his closets, the servants at least still kept the place running, he found a nice velvet double and hose to go with his new slightly lavendar colored cloak. Nightfall make careful pains to retune his harp and find some old darts as well. All seemed to be in order and penning a quick reply, Nightfall not only set his rooms in order, he then dressed and was ready to soon make this party a fairly memoriable one.

Nightfall, glad to be the partying man.

At the agreed time Ulrike strolled in the Great Hall. Yes, preparations were made. Only the guests were still missing. Sundara and Carramaena weren't anywhere to be seen too. She decided to wait. Either the guests will be still coming or ... The acting Mistresses would show her relative weakness. After all they were not Ariella. She wondered if this interesting Soulless, Barid Bel, would appear. She had sent him personally a message and she had something in mind.

She got herself a tonic at the bar and sat then down on a comfortable armchair to wait for ... what ever may come.


Flame cautious approached the main hall of the Dark Palace. A few days ago she had met Ulrike, who suggested that she attend the party. She talked something about 'Know your enemies'. Flame could see the wisdom, but still she felt uncomfortable. On the other hand her companion Dune was much more eager. The wolf expected a lot of fresh meat and a some fun with the Darkhound.

Unhindered she walked in this heart of darkness. No locked up doors, no guards; instead curtsying servants. Flame shaked her head. That was the home of the dreaded Dark Family?! She should summon some hundreds of her spearsisters and crush them. In the hall she met Ulrike, who listened with closed eyes the soft music. Without to open her eyes she spoke.

"Greetings to you Flame and to you, Dune! I'm afraid the other guests are late and our hosts too." She smirked. "Why don't you relax? Feel like at home! The bar is open and also the buffet."

Dune headed immediately to the corner with the beef. Meanwhile Flame looked around. Though there were servants everywhere this place felt spooky.

~Flame & Dune

"Lady" Barid Bel said as soon as the gateway closed behind him. "I came, and the others?" He scanned the hall briefly, and took a chair near her.
"They are a bit late, Barid." she answered, "I'm sure the will come eventually."
"Of course they will, Ulrike" He certainly hoped they would. It was better to step into the Pit of Doom than to face an angry woman, that was something he didn't usually remember, but he tried.

~Barid Bel

"Lady, I came, and the others?"
Her eyes shot open. This bloody habit of undetected approach, she must get used to this. Showing calmness she replied politely his greetings.
"You know, this evening seems to me like a symbol of the recent events. Nothing is going on, most of people are not here, but it is more like the calm before the storm. You know important people on all sides," she smiled at the cautious look on his face. "what is your impression?"
"My lady, no one confide in me. Really, who trusts a Grey Man? Surely, the absence of so many Light Warriors and members of the Dark Family has a signifance. But for what, I cannot say."
"Hmm, maybe we will wiser after this party. If some more guests appear."

She leaned back and closed her eyes again. The music was beautyful. Her mood was almost mediative, unlike the nervousness she had usually with a lot of loud people around. Barid fetched her another tonic. Meanwhile the Aiel has come. Good, she had hoped so. Flame realized Barid's presence not until he passed over the drink. That irked her apparently. Stiffly she walked to the bar when Alcair'rahien stormed in. Enthuastic he approched Flame and her wolf companion and soon they were deep in conversation. Besides Dune and the dragon decimated the buffet.

Ulrike smiled inside. Maybe it will become a great party. Casually she laid a hand on Barid's arm to prepare her next move.


Suddenly a horizontal slash of light appeared, widening into a horizontal gateway about 6 and a half feet above the ground. Pillows dropped through in a pile, then Daylorn dropped through. He got up and dusted himself off, then let the gateway close. "How did you do that?" asked Barid Bel and Ulrike almost simultaneously. "Simple," Daylorn replied. "I just realized thatthe orientation of the spacial matrix depended on my visualization of the associated factors."


"I realized that the place and direction it came out depended on how I visualized it."


He wore black, suprisingly, with a golden cape and gold and silver ornaments.

Scanning the room, he noted how few people were there. And sighed, no dancing with the Dark Sisters for a while, it seemed. He headed to the bar, where he ordered a glass of milk.


Looking questionly at Daylorn Barid considered postioning him, then gave up the idea. It wasn't really fun and there were too few guest to pass the chance of a conversation. Flame avoided him entirely after she nearly jumped off her skin earlier. She all but dragged Ulrike to the other side of the bar, talking quietely and fingering at him with her spear. Ulrike laid a hand on Flame's shoulder and talked with with a sober expression on her face. Flame let the spear go and lied it beside her chair.
She and Ulrike began to talk in a softer voice. He could ahve eavesdropped if he would have wanted to, only he didn't. He had a fare idea what they were talking about. Ulrike's companion, on the other hand kept one eye always on him. Dragons could identify him as what he was, and he never felt comportable around them.
After all, it was no fun killing some one with a knife anymore. That was why he betrayed the shadow, the orders he was given held no chalenge for him. There was no FUN in sticking a hot knife inside someone's belly. It was MUCH more fun standing in front of him and shouting "BOO", and it had the same result too.
"Barid," Daylorn said, "I think we need to talk." Barid jumped, he HATED when people noticed him without him being aware of it. Of course most people felt the same only reversed.
"Daylorn," He said, "Who do you want me to kill for you?"

~Barid Bel

The Intrigleeman made his entrance, along with his ... bodyguard, must as it hurt to admit it, Mazrin. Since the other fellows seemed to be wearing things ..heh heh.. he decided to also, placing clothes of Eccentric Powered material ...patchcloth, a gleeman's cloak that seemed to shift into the surrounding area, obscure colors overwhelming any eyes that dared look at it. In ways, when the gleeman chose, it could be worse than anything a Tinker could think up. The gleeman never was a skilled person in the way of fashion, but he did know one thing; when in doubt, gray or black. So the rest of his attire was mostly gray, the boots being black. Of course, all that could change in a moment's notice of the rambling Power, but it would do for now.
Satisfied, he entered the room, expecting a horde of jokes being tossed around, most likely including a tabletop dance or two, what with all of the returning loonies from the glorious humor days. But, alas for a lack, there were only a few sitting around and chatting. Better for the agency, figured Kir; Asmodean wouldn't be able to hide amongst all the chaos quite as easily. But what he was doing there to begin with was beyond Eccentric comprehension. Perhaps with his odd-minded Power, he had even resurrected an old agency from the Age of Legends, or something equally as strange. It was beyond him, for the time being, and Asmodean always was a traitor. His Forsaken work was enough to prove that, resulting in his death.
Not many people yet, that was blatant, but there was one crowd that sparked his curiosity, and they seemed to be discussing something. Of course, in a crowd of this size, everyone would be in tight-knit, organized conversations. Ulrike, two wolfkin, he had learned from that strange Asmodean --where was he, and what was he up to?-- the dragon previously in the library --a friendly nudge could be felt in his brain, the dragon's form of a greeting-- and another group, the one that held his interest to the bitter end of his inner ramblings. Daylorn and Barid.
Black? On a Light Warrior ...or whatever there new name was by now... was an interesting thought. That cape suited him. And Barid, too, in his gray. Or at least seeming gray; one never knew what a Gray Man could do to his appearance.
He trampled the floor on his way over, the ground groaning under his feet ---was it because of the trampling, or was this place in need of repair? The Great Mistresses hadn't done parties in awhile, so the latter could have been possible, but Kir was in favor for the former; this place had the feeling of being crafted by Ogier builders, but not only Ogier. Aes Sedai must have helped. That would be a question for Haman one day, certainly. He was probably alive at the time of the building, though one never knew. The building must have held the Oath Rod somehow; how it could have happened, the gleeman did not know, but it had an ageless feeling to it. Something to research in Ulrike's library, noted Kir. It could be very enlightening, or, in this case, very endarkening. For no reason, the famous talent of the rambler, he thought of a new term for the Dark Quickenings of Highlander Immortals; the Darkenings.
Done rambling in a minute or more ...that was an effect of the Eccentric Power, whether it was because it originated in the Tower of Ghenjei, the ability to ramble in a few seconds flat or so; time really was just as warped as everything else in that joint... the gleeman walked to the two conversers. A spy ...perhaps he had created an agency? He seemed more a mercenary though... and a Light Warrior. A slightly seeming militaristic one at that. Ah, life is good. How the conversation would turn out after Kir waved to their turned heads, would be up to the Wheel. One never knew how it'd go, not in this world.

Kiriath, Undercover Intrigleeman
Searching for a significant, Shadowed, soul...

"Now THIS is a matter of wanderering at the right time into the right place; I have been wandering too much to be found," thought the Wanderer, "and could not have received any sort of invite. Amazing. More amazing still that I need not even contemplate what to wear, for I am always dressed to impress."

He was, of course, wearing his black mask. But he was also sporting a white, ruffled shirt out of a certain historic period akin to Revolutionary America, loosely done, and dusty well-loved knickers. The socks were garishly plaid in hues of red and green, Scot-style, and he took his shoes off outside. He did, however, keep his favorite sword across his back; not at the hip, how else could one hope to dance properly?

The party seemed subdued, as subdued as a party could be with a dragon and wolves at the table. Buffet table, at any rate. The dance floor stood empty, and Ulrike, Barid Bel, and Daylorn appeared to be talking civil-like, while Kiriath was having an audible rambling discussion with a group-- if it could be called that-- of people who kept winking in and out of existance. That, or his garishly bright cloak was fuddling the Wanderer's head. But the ramble was a delight to hear, and the Wanderer stept from the shadows into whatever light there was and barked sharply, "Hey! HEY! could ya liven it up a little?" There was the scratching of a vinyl abruptly removed; everyone looked at him, then up into the invisible ceiling of the hall; and after a brief pick-up whirl, a friendly voice announced Benny Goodman's Orchestra, and SING, SING, SING resounded exaultantly through the halls.

"More like it," he nodded in approval. "Now, how can ya'll sit there like bumps on a log when you could be a'swingin?" He cast about for a partner, and barely realized that she was Aiel until he turned to face her in the dancefloor. "Uh, I dont suppose you go in for this, my dear?"

Her grin was a little too vicious for his taste. "Fraid not, stranger. Just the dance of the spears. But say, you know a game called Maiden's Kiss?"

That was one thing he wished to avoid if possible, and since the floor had not exactly flooded in his wake, he stepped back eloquently and drew his sword with a complex looking flourish. "All too well, I'm afraid. Let's just stick to dancing the spears, eh? I'm sorry, I didn't catch the name."

"Flame." She might almost have grinned as she snatched up her spears.

And they danced.

-The Wanderer, who has now seen The Mask of Zorro and been impressed enough to recommend it to you all! PS, Flame, it is a great honor to be analogied (new word) into the shoes of Catherine Zeta-Jones! *w* Whoo-WEE!

Somehow, the summons of Ulrike's had forced its way through all the fog of Agelmar's mind. Forsaken in soul, if not appearance, he had withdrawn from everyone to try to heal himself of the psychological wounds that had come to define his life these past months. He had not just spent his time in his rooms in the Palace, but had wandered all around, experiencing new pain each time he entered a new land.

But, a party... After all this time... Agelmar would, could, never refuse an open invitation. This party seemed to offer a chance for, a chance to ease pain with drink. So Agelmar shrugged into some clothes and found his way down to the party.

There were already some denizens of Randland present, but Agelmar had nothing off the top of his head to say to anyone. So he took his usual position at the bar, signalled the bartender, and had his usual drink. And so he waited...

Agelmar Jagad

Through the wide doors of the party chamber strode a man, dressed head in foot in black. The only thing that reflected the light of the chamber were his blue mischievous eyes and the loop of gold metal he wore as an earring. Perhaps, he reflected, he did resemble a pirate in some ways. He chuckled merrily to himself as the heads in the room turned, and eyes widened, and foreheads frowned as he strode into the chamber.

To one side, the Wanderer had returned, (don't they always! rule #1 of Wandering - you have to return, to let people know you Wandered in the first place!) and danced with a rather attractive Aiel girl. She had fire in her eyes, and DarkHound sniffed trouble and fun rolled into one youthful and more importantly, female, package. A slight grin lit his hard features as he found himself looking forward to the party.

He strode towards Ulrike who sat at the bar, throwing peanuts into the mouth of a wolf that sat nearby. First respects to the host, thought DarkHound. Manners are manners. As he made his way, he spotted Barid trying to be invisible. He waved in greeting, and Barid groaned and went pale, causing the Hound to chuckle some more. A grey-man who everyone could see! Oh, that was funny! And speaking of funny, DH spotted Kiriath the intrigleeman and gleefulmaniac and various other ambigous descriptions that may or may not have anything to do with what Kiriath was. Or wasn't. Waving in greeting, DH found himself trying to categorise Kiriath, work out where he fit in. DH rebuked himself silently. Such a task was impossible and he knew it. All he knew was that everyone liked Kiriath, because he was quite splendidly mad as hell. Instead, DarkHound barked one word of greeting: "Ni!" A second later, an answer of "Ni!" reached his ears, followed by "ecky ecky ptang" and maybe "shrubbery".

Ulrike looked up just as the man approached. It had been a while since she had seen him in this form. The last time she had seen him he had been in hound form, sucking up to the new Mistress of the house. His eyes flashed red for a moment, the fires of his heart glowing Ba'Alzamon style. Ulrike smiled, but the wolf growled and sprung at him. A gateway appeared between them and the wolf found itself hurling towards a hole that lead directly to the Aryth ocean. It sunk back on it's haunches and eyed him menacingly. Disposing of the gateway and grinning at the wolf, he swept a low bow to Ulrike.
"Greetings, Lady. Since I was so graciosuly invited, so have I come." He grabbed a handful of peanuts and swallowed without chewing. "And, if I hadn't been invited, I would have just turned up anyway. You can't have a party without a Hound!"

"DarkHound! You made it! Now the party can really start! Come, have a beer!" Enthusiasm was ever the biggest asset of Ulrike, and the board was better for it.

"Erm... it's not that beer you gave me last time is it? That made me go a little odd... even for my standards. I was knitting for weeks! You don't need a cardigan do you? Erm, never mind. Go on, give us a beer then." Casting about, he spotted Agelmar, and met his eyes, brothers for a moment in the dark depths of their souls.
"On second thoughts, give me two dozen beers, Ulrike. I'm going to try and cheer up Agelmar. I'll probably be back for more. Can I dance with you in a little while?"
Ulrike's grin was dazzling, so Hound swpet a bow, grabbed two cases of "bloody-stupid-strength" beer, and departed, blowing the wolf a kiss as he left. Dune cocked a head and seemed to laugh, his tongue lolling. Well, maybe they would get on after all, thought Hound.

DH pulled a large sized spliff from a dark pocket of his cloak. Overhead, Alcair looked down and felxed his wings. DH winked and indicated the joint with a question on his face. Alcair snorted, and a single trickle of dragonflame shot out and ignited the end. "Cheers Al! See you later," said Hound. Reaching Agelmar, DarkHound plonked a crate of beer in his arms, and grinned maniacally. "Do you know the Dwarvish drinking song?" he asked without preamble.

~DarkHound, Mutt of Smutt, King-Punster of SK's chatroom, Lord of Innuendo, Some-time Pirate (don't ask) and all round Sexy Love-Giblet. (Except tuesdays - I got soccer practise Tuesdays).

Ulrike looked around. Though no Dark Sister was present yet, it became slowly a real party. Darkhound had added the special spice to it. Now he besieged the poor Agelmar watched by Dune. Ulrike was very certain that the she-wolf would pay back their first encounter to Darkhound with interest. Alcair's laugh in her mind told her the same. He glided in circles over their heads, watching everyone, only the Great Hall was vast enough to allow him that inside of a building.

The Wanderer and Flame drew looks as they elegant danced with each other, spear against sword. No need for real worry, Flame hadn't veiled. Ulrike wondered when the Aiel would go over to wrestling. Barid conversed with Daylorn, she catched the word 'kill' and was immediately alert. Oh, no! Not this way. She stood up and walked to the men. Looking up to Barid she laid a hand on his chest. "If I may disturb you one moment..." The time froze.

She embraced saidar. Channeling all elements together she directed her weave to the Grey Man. She searched for a connection to his body, not to his trolloc substitute for his long lost soul. She didn't want a bond to this. At first her weave slipped off, then she splitted it in ever more single threads. Each thin ramification seized hold in Barid's body, alone so frail like spiderweb, together untearable.

The moment passed and she looked in his widened eyes. His shock was clear visible to her, but she didn't feel any emotion. Instead she felt the tension in his muscles. The subtle shifting as if he could not decide to flee or to attack. She exhaled, all men stared at her, they must have felt her use of saidar. Mustering her strenght she continued: "I forgot to ask, do you want to be my warder?"

The silence was broken when Agelmar roared, lept on a table and started to dance. He seemed absent-minded. Ulrike gave the innocent looking Darkhound a scandalized glare. This cursed lout must have foisted this infamous German beer to Agelmar. While all eyes were on them Ulrike felt her body drop on the floor. No, not her body, Barid has fainted dead away.


Light, but that beer hit the spot. All of Agelmar's worries, fears, and regrets faded as the robust vintage coursed through his veins. It could have just been the beer, but through his eyes Agelmar noticed a surprised Darkhound and a fainted Barid among the partygoers. But the silence that accompanied Agelmar's sudden decision to dance snapped him back into sobriety. Looking suspiciously at the beer, Agelmar made a decision. "No more liquor for me!" And with this pronouncement, everyone else at the party went into shock.

Agelmar Jagad

Flame laughed. Light, this wetlander could dance. But why must he use such cursed sword?

Suddenly the man jumped back and turned to Ulrike. All men stared at her! What had happened? An animalic sound behind her startled all people. Another wetlander man, the defector Agelmar, seemed to be absolute crazy. Abruptly his 'dance' ended and he was normal again. But why his statement caused such uproar? Ulrike was right, most of them were strange. Much stranger than the ordinary wetlander.


Barid opened his eyes carefully, and sighed in relief when he saw that there was no one else in the room. He sat on the bed and considered his position. He didn't know much about warders, and bonding. But he knew the basics. He would be able to feel whatever she felt, and would know the moment she would die. That day would come close if he only find a way to escape the trap she placed around his soul. She wasn't the first to do this, but none had ever did it twice.
Carefully he touched the link that bind him to her, it was like tasting it, testing it.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when his mid slide over the bond. He expected pain, but there was no pain in this.
Only the sense of Ulrike away to the east. It worked both ways, the bonding. She could feel him too, probably. But how could he escape it?
He eplored the new link Ulrike did and sighed heavely when he finished. If he got it strait, it was the strangest trap he ever saw! As long as he let himself stay in it he would be stronger, faster, more deadly. But if the link will ever break he will die, as simply as that.
He would have to accept the situation or die, and he had all the intention in the world to live forever.
Suddenly the sence of Ulrike seemed to crash of him, she was troubled, no wondered in that, NO ONE had ever bonded a gray man before. A thought came to him suddenly and his heart missed a beating, WAS he still a gray man? the trolloc soul he used for so long had gone, where were his soul?
But he had no time to think about that fearful possibilty, he heard foot steps behind the door and lied on the bed quickly, closing his eyes and breathing quitely. Ulrike entered the room.
"Oh, stop this, Barid." she said in afirm voice. "I know you aren't sleeping."

~Barid Bel

She smiled down on the an on the bed. Undetectable he was still for others, but not more for her. "He is mine," she thought, "my warder." But still she didn't feel any emotion from him. Did he feel emotions at all? Surely, he wasn't like other Soulless. She had felt his motions before and now she felt the bed under his back, his slow breathing. So close to him she could hardly differentiate between his and her own body!

"Barid, we must talk!" Her tone was firm, radiating self-confidence. "We must come to some ... terms of agreement." Slowly he opened his eyes; feeling the tension in him she could guess his anger and caution. He sat up and glared at her. "What do you want me to do for you?" Suppressed rage burned in his words. She cocked her head. "Don't you suspect that already?"


He had no idea what she was talking about. He kept his emotion under tight control, but he still had to fight the urge to jump out of the bed and wring the answer out of her. She had no need to know that he would do whatever she would ask anyway. It was not as if he had a choice.
"Tell me, please." He had to drag that word from his mouth. Politeness was just not it for him, he prefered much more treats and knifein the dark. For some reason he asumed that that time in his life had ended. That glint in Ulrike's eyes certainly said so.

~Barid Bel

The Intrigleeman didn't detect anything out of the ordinary himself, but his Eccentric Power did something real weird ...weirder than it ever had before. It sensed saidar. How it did, Kiriath didn't know, and how it did he didn't care. All he cared about was that Barid was now a Warder to Ulrike. And he wasn't letting anybody know how he came across that knowledge.
He muttered a few phrases to himself, not certain about anything in particular, "What in the Light? A gray man being bonded, and Barid Bel at that." The thought that 'Barid Bel' was the true name of ..Sammael, was it?.. came unbidden, but Kir tossed it away. Nothing was the usual here. And besides; maybe Barid wasn't Sammael, the two had just played with their names. Another sudden thought appeared ...was Sammael in a conspiracy with Barid!?
Thoughts raced through his mind ...perhaps the defector Asmodean was in league with Sammael, and maybe both were in cahoots with Barid. Oh, nifty, thought Kir as Eccentric Power-enduced rambling settled upon him full-force. There was always the desperation maneuver ...perhaps Ulrike could be persuaded to tell him things about Barid, now that he was bonded. Or perhaps Barid could tell him things on his own. Being wary of the danger of the Gray Man, of course; they had more knives than Mat or even the highly-esteemed Thom Merrilin, if most of the agents had reported correctly.
"Oh, Agelmar," said Kir, ready to ramble with another dangerous cohort. Agelmar was a defector also, so a fellow never knew what he might be up to. Kir smiled as he made his way to the bar. If Agelmar could be persuaded, his insanity could be a great asset to the Intrigleemen. A very great one indeed.

Kiriath, Undercover Intrigleeman
Formulating plans even as he thinks...

Suddenly, the great doors at one end of the hall swung open, seemingly with no hand moving them. The lights dimmed.
“Am I terribly late, people?” Carramaena sauntered through the open doors, the silk of her gown floating behind her as she moved. “I do hope not. It would be such a shame to be late for my own coronation, wouldn’t it?”
With a sweet smile, she walked into the centre of the room and looked around. “My eldest brother - I’m sure you know him - and I were talking all day, you see, and we decided that in the absence of my sisters I should be crowned Great Mistress of the Dark, and skip the acting-acting title. So this is my official coronation party, and I welcome you all to it.”
“Now, without ado, let us proceed to the ceremony!”
The room dissolved into darkness. The scene that now met everyone’s eyes was a rocky valley, the sky overhead striated in brilliant shades of red and orange. Carramaena stood some distance from the others, smiling at their disbelief. ‘Where in Shayol Ghul are we?!” someone yelled, and other voices clamoured asking the same thing. “How did we get here?” someone else demanded. Kiriath continued to ramble - well, she had expected nothing else.
“You got here, my friends, through the Great Lord of the Dark exercising his whim and mine. Reality at Shayol Ghul is infinitely malleable if you know how. As for where we are - ” Carra smiled, a smile oddly familiar to those who had known Ariella. “This is the Pit of Doom.”
Ignoring incredulous - and some fearful - cries, she came to stand directly over the point where the Bore had been made, a wind blowing her coppery hair and the thin silk of her gown around her.
“How could a Mistress of the Dark be crowned in the absence of her eldest brother? And since Shai’tan cannot leave his prison yet, I have brought you all here. Behold.”
The wind died down, and the sky darkened. Stars began to shimmer overhead - not the true stars of the world, but close enough if you did not look too hard. Their light struck the faceted rocks of the valley, throwing glinting beams that made the very air seem to sparkle. This, Carra reflected, was like being an actress and having a very, very good special effects artist at your command.
“I am Carramaena, a Sister of the Dark. As the position lies empty, I hereby name and crown myself Carramaena, the Great Mistress of the Dark. So let it be!”
Thunder rumbled, but within the thunder was an echo - or perhaps more than an echo - of Carra’s words. CARRAMAENA, GREAT MISTRESS OF THE DARK. SO LET IT BE!
Carramaena raised her hands, and the starlight seemed to gather into them. The result was a circlet, oddly wrought, of silver that shone like the stars. With that strangely familiar smile again, Carra set it on her copper-gold hair. And now, she thought, I am truly the Great Mistress.
The Great Mistress of the Dark laughed, and her laughter blended in with the thunderous laughter from overhead. With a sudden lurch, the landscape changed and they were back in the hall again. The candlelight glinting on her silver crown, Carra turned to Darkhound, who looked more than a little startled. She had not chosen to apprise even him of the plans she and her brother had made, and his expression was one of the least disbelieving in the place. “I’m glad to see you enjoyed the show, ‘Hound. Would you care to dance?”

Carramaena L'Var, Great Mistress of the Dark

"Hound, would you care to dance?"
The first words from the new Great Mistress of the Dark. They sung in his ears, and lodged in his heart. As if he could resist any female, let alone one who had had the forsight and nerve to crown herself Great Mistress. Smiling like a god of madness, he dropped to one knee and swept a long elegant bow.
"I would be honoured, Great Mistress." His grin was his best rogue grin, and he topped it with a wink. She eyed him as he bowed low before her, and smiled a mysterious smile of her own. DH almost feinted. So like her predecessor, yet different too.

Within seconds, they were dancing, vivaciously but elegantly. Formally, and yet with intimacy. Darkhound watched the lights circle, and listened to the hum of conversation as he let his mind wander.

The highlight of the evening was the coronation, one that had shocked even him. He had hid it well, of course, but normally his sensitive snout would have picked the scent of excitement out of the air. Carramaena, Mistress Carramaena, he amended mentally, had took them all by suprise. He found himself grinning. He had been there the first time. His smile faded as he lost himself in memories, mostly great times of adventure and discovery. He had sat in the centre of the paradox, faithful servant of the dark, yet bringer of light. He had tasted the bitterest dregs of despair, and danced in the euphoria of love and joy. So much time gone, yet so little.
Yesterday was a thousand years ago, and yet still only yesterday. In the eye of the storm, was a place of calm, but it moved erratically, and you had to keep moving with it, to avoid being swept away. Well, the tempest had finally caught him in the end, and swept so much away, leaving only memories. But new things would be built, out of the ruins. And he would be there for all of it, again, stirring, laughing, planning, hoping, serving, and laughing again. It was what he did best.

DH came to from his musings, and found himself looking into the eyes of the Great Mistress herself.

"Well, Great Mistress - I guess that means every one's days of lazing about are over?" DH enquired.

In reply, the Lady Carramaena just smiled her mysterious smile. "Oh, I think all my servants will be very busy for a few weeks at least. There is much that has been allowed to slip. But in time. the Dark will rise to it's former glory... and beyond." Mischievously, she stood on her Hound's foot, pretending clumsiness. "Tell me Hound, will you serve as you did my forerunner? Will you help me?"

DH ignored the pain in his foot, to meet her gaze seriously. "As best I can, Great Mistress. As best I can." Then he added in a whisper "There are some important things you should know. Old plans, loose ends, new ideas.... You should know it all, Mistress. Call for me later, and I shall come." Disentangling himself from her took a monumental effort, but he managed it. For a moment his eyes glowed red in the dim light. "Let the Madness Begin..." he said.


Nightfall was again terrible late, but came in just in time to hear the coronation of Carramaena as the Great Mistress. This was indeed a shock to Nightfall but one he quickly recovered from. This was indeed reason to celebrate. And Nightfall knew he had to reestablish his own little claim around here as the life of the party.
With a thought he turned to the band he had hired and had them set up a lively tune, one that he knew from some ages ago. "Trees went by, Me and Del, Yeah, running down a dream, Never would come to me, working on a mystery, going where ever it lead, Running down a dream."
With that he danced some with a servant girl before getting to see Carramaena dance up a storm with the Hound. The Hound looked a little different than when the last time Nightfall had frequented Shayol Ghul. But then alot had happened. Still Nightfall managed to cut in on the twosome for a bit. "Great Mistress, I hope that you will find my services...acceptable." A familiar smile crossed the new Great Mistress' lips. " are Nightfall? Well then dance little, shadowman with me. I'm always interested to know my subjects better."
Without any hesitiation Nightfall readily accepted and had the band play another lively round to keep the party going. It was going to be a party to remember.

Nightfall, man ready to make sure this BB is THE place to be and always ready to party on down.

Ulrike came back from her talk with Barid just in time to be told by a somewhat frightened Flame what an impressing coronation ceremony she had missed. She shaked slightly her head when she watched Carramaena, the Great Mistress of the Dark, dancing with Darkhound and then with Nightfall.

If she believed to have this party without Dark Sisters, well, she had erred. Finally that dance ended and she went to congratulate Carramaena. She accepted Ulrike's best wishes with such a regal pose, Ulrike couldn't resist the urge to express her regret for the absence of her Brothers and Sisters of Darkness. For one moment Carra's face showed a sour expression. Satisfied Ulrike excused herself and went to snatch Darkhound for a dance. He was battling Alcair for the last piece beef on the plundered buffet. When they whirled to an exciting melody through the hall, she noticed Barid Bel staggering in.


Barid Bel leaned on the wall of the hall, he felt Ulrike's gaze on him, but ignored it. She was the only one who noticed him, one of the gifts she recieved by bonding him was the ability to see him whatever he was trying to hide or not.
He looked at the new crowned mistress and drew his dagger, looking questionly at Ulrike he pointed with it to Carramaena. She shooked her head slightly, not stopping to dance and he returned the dagger to its sheet with a sigh. It wasn't fun, Alcair gave him a look. But unlike before the dragon just ignored him. From now on Alcair would treat him as he would Ulrike.
His soul wasn't backin his body, he was still a grayman, luckily. Instead it was somewhere in the pattern, holdedonly by Ulrike's bond that replaced the link that was once his conection to his soul.
He stretched his limbs and moved away from the wall. He had to gather few things from the place he called home before he could really enjoy the party. Suddenly a thought crossed his mind, Ulrike, by defination, belonged to the Browns. He heard what most Brown's warders did. The riskest danger he will have to face would be a collapsing shelf.
Smiling happily he opened a gateway to his home, a palace all in shades of black and gray. Some achived immortality by being very evil or very good. Some by gaining enough money to bribe the wheel of time. But Barid Bel had decided long ago that his wasof gaining immortality would be simply by not dying.

~Barid Bel

Barid had left the palace, she felt the awareness of the other body dim. He would adapt to his new situation soon, she had no doubt. In the back of her mind she considered several possibilities. She hadn't bonded him only to carry books for her. The contact to Alcair was made easily.
"Can you read Carra' thoughts?" She didn't think of her as Great Mistress yet, in her own eyes Carramaena L'Var still has to proven herself.
"Only that she will plan something. Nothing concrete yet, she waits for Darkhound's informations. BTW she won't think about that with me in the same room, she knows enough to be careful."
"The wheel weaves... What think the other guests?"
"Waiting and watching. But they are impressed by the coronation." Roaring laughter echoed through Ulrike's skull. "I know only what Flame told me. I was not there. Either I was forgotten or a dragon is not welcome at the Pit of Doom."
She must so smile about this statement that Darkhound looked wondering at her. Her suddenly happiness made him visible curious.


Cerise watched the gateway snap shut behind her. It was awfully hot in that world called Phoenix, Arizona. Too hot for her likings. She was glad to see her home again,as well as her friends of the Light and Dark. It had been some time.

Her pale lavendar skirts swayed as she wandered into the Grand RP Room and watched the partying guests. They all looked as if they were having a blast! Cerise glanced about the room and couldn't quite see Carra, but instead saw one of her personal man servants. She quickly pulled out an ornate silver bowl worked with small sapphires that looked like clouds, out of her pouch and gave it to the man servant. "This is a new piece for Carra's fine collection. See that it gets to one of her, will you?" The servant smiled slightly and nodded.

Picking up her pace a bit, she sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. She downed the drink and ordered another. Where was everyone? ;)

~Cerise Sedai who hath finally returned for good. :)

The party was still in full swing as Nightfall decided to take a little stroll around Shayol Ghul. It had been a great evening so far. Even though the Dark Sisters were not here, he had managed quite well for himself, a nice serving girl with sparkling blue eyes. Most entertaining was the Great Mistress. Indeed much like her predessor but there were differences to be sure. They had danced for a long time, the Great Mistress giving him a good portion of her attentions. However he did notice her eyes did occasional waiver over to the Hound. The smell of Daes Damar was high in the air this night. Which was good. He had been planning much before other things needed his attention. Suddenly he felt channeling and realize that another familiar face had appear. Slipping between the shadows, he soon found Cerise Sedai enjoying her time with one of the servants. He remember her, but never with such beauty. A familiar almost rogue smile crossed his thin lips as he then stepped fully into her view.
"Cerise! It is good to see you here. I hope you remember me?" Her eyes twinkled as she watched him. "I believe I do, Master Nightfall. I'm glad to be back among friends. And a party no less. Would do me the honor of dancing" His smile was soon very roguish indeed as he led her arm in hers "It would and honor and a privilge, dear lady."

Nightfall, glad to see another familiar face.

Brushing a few ringlets away from her face, Cerise "cut a rug" so-to-speak with Nightfall. She was suprised at what a good dancer he was.

"So how have things been around Shayol Ghul, and this world?"
"Ariella seems to have disappeared as well as other Dark Sisters."
"What a pity, really... Then again, I haven't seen to many Light Warriors around. I still haven't seen my Gaidin Agelmar, yet tonight. Although I know he's been ... shall we say lurking. Would you care for a drink, friend?"
"Of course, Cerise Sedai."

And with that, Cerise found herself at the bar an hour and five margaritas later. Nightfall was quite a charming man and was full of wonderful stories and jokes. Cerise stood up suddenly, and plunked right back down into her seat. "I think I'm bloody drunk!" she exclaimed in a horrible English accent. "Oh, I must tell you Lord Nightfall, that I slip into different accents when I'm bloody smashed." Cerise ordered another margarita for herself...

~Cerise Sedai

Dancing with that Aiel girl having exhausted him, the Wanderer too had stepped out for a breath of air - hardly fresh, but more to escape the constant opportunity to dance. The spirit might be willing but the flesh was getting sore. Besides, he had an empty spot on his card, that he always reserved for Serefelle Sedai, for whenever she should return.

He was also flabbergasted that Carramaena had become the new Great Mistress. His relationship with the original, Ariella, was a continual fascination, and he envied Eval Raman his position of favor with Sundara, ari's adjutant. But this Carramaena had accepted the role in a most spectacular fashion, and the Wanderer was only too glad to have witnessed the spectacle.

He was equally glad to see Cerise, no Dark Sister it was true, but in another way a force to be reckoned with on the board. She was probably the truest of the Light Warriors, as they called themselves; at least, she did not forget her station, which was more than could be said for the men of the organization. For all that, Agelmar's treachery seemed to make a certain odd sort of sense.

Outside, Cerise was speaking with Nightfall. They went in, and the Wanderer took the chance to explore the Fortress-Palace that housed the Bretheren of the Dark.

He was surprised, then, to see Nightfall materialize out of the shadows with Cerise half-draped on him. "Nightfall!" he called, "Another drunken woman, I see?" He couldn't help but smile; but there WAS the intrest of the lady of the Light to be attended to.

Nightfall winced, but turned and smiled politely. "I was only providing Cerise with a place to rest..."

Cerise interrupted. "Nightie says he has a bath waitin' too, doncha, me sweet darlin'?" Her British accent was rendered imperfect by the drawl of her speech. The Wanderer grinned still wider.

"Oh-HO! Then shall I leave you to your relaxation, then?" But instead he drew his sword. Nightfall hardly blinked, but the grin fled his face.

"Do I know that blade?"

"A... friend... gave it to me. She is called Mazel." Nightfall's face now registered surprise and half grinned, his mouth wide. "Swear to me on this sword you will have every regard for the lady's honor, while she cannot regard it for herself." It was not a question.

Nightfall straightened and placed his hand on the sword. "Always shall I keep her honor foremost", he swore solemnly. Cerise looked on with a blissful smile on her face. "Who is that man, Nightie?"

"A friend, my lady." The two fellows met in a parting gaze, the swordsman sheathing the weapon and holding his finger to his lips indicating their secret, and then the Wanderer disappeared down a side hall as quickly and silently as he had come.

The Wanderer

Cerise hiccuped as she tried to watch the Wanderer dissappear. "Darlin', do I know that good-lookin' man?" she said, heavily accented to Nightie. Nightfall just glanced at Cerise and replied, "What man? Come, let's get you to bed."

As suddenly as that, Cerise found herself in Nightie's apartments. For some reason her fingers weren't working right to undo the buttons on the back of her dress. She would have channeled air to remove the buttons, but she was far too drunk to even grasp Saidar. Cerise glanced at Nightie, and he came over and helped her undo the buttons and pull of her dress. Standing in her silk shift, Cerise reached up to kiss Nightfall on the cheek, but instead, she passed out right on the floor.

~Cerise, the bloody drunk.

Nightfall sighed to himself. That Wanderer fellow was indeed a good sport even if he meddled in affairs that we indeed none of his concerned. Certainly Nightfall had been shocked that anyone considered him less than a gentleman. The Dark Sisters themselves tolerated little less...With the exception of the Hound, but then the Hound was indeed a law unto himself. Carefully placing Cerise back on the bed, he then changed out of his tired clothes and into the bath for himself. It was times like these that made Nightfall wonder what was he doing here. Still it was only a small nagging question. Cerise, indeed, the whole night had been more than entertainment than he had had in long while. Laying there, Nightfall plotted out his next little scheme for later. Certainly the Hound was playing more than his usual bag of tricks, his outfit indicated that for sure. But also troubling was the return of Eval. That made Nightfall even more neverous than the chance encounter with that strange Wanderer fellow. Eval and himself were not enemies to be sure, but certain farther from friends than he cared much for his back and safety would allow. That also made him glad that Sunny had not been made the new Great Mistress. Certain he admired Sunny and enjoyed giving her as much of himself to her in that charitable act of his harp. But it was better she remained the player she was, keeping both Eval at bay and enjoying being a Dark Sister, rather than the Great Mistress. All these thoughts flickered through his head as he could hear Cerise in his bed sleeping a deep and more than just tispy sleep. Suddenly that damnable dragon showed up, eating what appeared to be a small rabbit
"Hallo. What are you doing?" "I'm trying to take a bath, lizardlips and I'd appricate if I could do so without you watching me." Ulrike's dragon smiled and then again vanished. Company was very well, but that best of her's was becoming more of a nuiscene than when the Hound had burst into his chambers. While he liked Ulrike and certainly had no intentions of removing the dragon in anyway, it was rather rude of it to think it owned the place. Finally just letting the soothing hot water creep inside his skull, Nightfall then could only hope things would improve... Certainly the force of the entity known as Strawn was no longer skulking about Shayol Ghul. But he was close still. Hopefully all this would be taken care of soon. Bad enough dragons sneaking in on him unannouced. An apperance by Strawn would just be more than he needed or cared to deal with. The water soothed him and finall, laying back in the water, the man know as Nightfall slept while the water lulled the room to a nice silence.

Nightfall, a man with alot on his mind.

There was something chasing after her. She could feel it's eyes on her as she pulled her skirts up a bit more and ran as fast as she could. Whatever it was, she knew that every step she took was even more fatal than the ones before. In her haste, Cerise's foot slipped, and she fell into a deep pit. She knew that it was too late. But what was chasing her all this time? She glanced up at the opening of the pit, and saw a vaguely familiar face glaring down at her. A face filled with hatred and revenge. The man's hand pointed at her, and a bar of white flame shot towards her. Cerise screamed, watching the weaves of balefire float towards her, closer, and closer...

Cerise awoke to find herself soaked to the bone with water. Her silk white shift clung to her body, and looked fairly ruined. She glanced up to see Nightfall holding his waterbasin to his chest. His waterbasin? Where am I? I must have passed out in his room. How.. silly of me. Cerise brushed her hair away from her face, and glanced at Nightfall. He certainly was a good looking man, clad in his small clothes, it made him seem ruggishly good looking, if not handsome. Absently, she fingered the jagged scar on her shoulder. That scar had always reminded her the price of having a man. It was still good that she had lost that duel to the other girl in Altara. It was only a few days later that she headed to the White Tower. Cerise pushed her hand away from her shoulder, and attempted to stand up and started to fall right back down. Nightfall caught under her arm and sat her back down on his bed.

"You were screaming, and awoke me. I couldn't shake you awake, so I used water. I'm sorry if I have ruined your shift. It must have been a really bad dream," Nightfall continued, "I think that maybe you should rest here a bit longer; you drank quite a bit last night." Nightfall chuckled slightly. Cerise put a hand up to her head and murmured, "Thank you for wakening me, I don't remember the dream now. Thank you for your hospitality, I really didn't mean to drink that much. I don't remember much after my fifth margarita, I think that's the drink I had." Nightfall had a slight gleam in his eyes as she said that, but she ignored that, for now. "Perhaps I will rest here a bit more, unless you know how to Heal this insufferable nausea and headache?"


Nightfall then walked across the room to his closet when he had some spare clothes. Certainly her own would have done, but it wouldn't do to have her freeze to death here. A small smile crossed his lips as he could feel her eyes watching him. It was something he found more enjoyable than most. Keeping his eyes firmly in search of some clothes that would fit her, he then said back "I am sorry, dear Cerise but I'm afraid my...talents lie else where. Though I do think staying here would not be a problem. Rarely am I disturbed. I make it a point to keep it that way." He then found an old shirt of his that seemed suitable enough "Why don't you change out of that wet shift and keep this for a while. It's warm enough and I think you'll find it more than comfortable." As he hand it, Nightfall could only watch careful. She was indeed more than attractive. But all in good time he knew. "I'll let you change in private then, Cer. I'm sure after a nap and some fresh air, just open the window on the far right, lovely view I may add, you'll be right as rain. Though I will be sorely remissed and upset if you don't come to visit me again. Few do as I said and certainly fewer still of your beauty my dear." Nightfall then kissed her hand, still in his smallclothes, and then walked back into where the bath was, closing the door behind him. Cerise was indeed more interesting than most women he had met and for an Aes Sedai, one he found more enliving to himself than many he had met before. Still he needed to change soon and make sure to set certain events in motion before others could do what ever plots they had been building in motion. Especially would he have to walk carefully with the Great Mistress. Still, Cerise was a bright spot in all this murkiness. Hopefully they would see more of each other. It was however certainly up to Cerise and Nightfall, no matter what, was a man to honor a lady's wishes. With plots now circling in his head, he waited patiently in the purpled tiled bathroom for Cerise to make herself more presentable.


Cerise hurridely hauled the shift over her head, and put on Nightfall's overshirt. It was perhaps a bit tight on top, and it reached about mid-thight on her legs. She quickly opened Nightfall's closet, and found a pair of breeches, that fit suprisingly well. She glanced at herself in the mirror and grimaced. She washed her face, neck, and arms, and adjusted her soft brown hair slightly. It'd have to do. Walking back to where her shift and rumpled clothes were, she opened herself to Saidar, and channeled the water out of her shift, and quickly released Saidar. Holding Saidar here could be considered slightly dangerous. Cerise tidied the bed slightly, and folded her clothes neatly and laid them on the bed. What is that man up to, she wondered as she cleaned. Cerise wouldn't take any part of Daes Da'mar, here. But that wasn't it. Something just didn't feel right in the air, this late morning. Vaguely, Cerise felt Agelmar's absence within her mind. She wondered why he hadn't even talked to her much the night before. Actually, Cerise did know why Agelmar had been a bit more absent of late, but that was his story to tell. Cerise glanced about the room. Looks fairly better, she thought. Gliding over to the door that Nightfall had gone thru, she tapped on it slightly. "I'm finished", she called. Glancing at the far window on the right, she walked over to it and opened it slightly...


The Wanderer walked the halls and explored the vast palace of the Dark Sisters until he supposed that, anywhere else along this parallel of the world, it might be morning. At least, he was feeling the lack of sleep, despite his nap in the immense library. Very naturally, all of the Dark Sisters playfully haunted his dreams, ariella and Sundara and Egwene2 and Carramaena. Of course, they were not the REAL sisters; he doubted he would have escaped from sleep so easily. But their spirits still dwelt here, in particular Sundara in this expanse of library. No Brown sister, Dark or not, would remove from this place very long. At least, in the daytime.

Thoughts led to Eval, and Nightfall. Surely, he knew Nightfall.... he was TRULY the Wanderer, and had an amazing notion of Nightie's capabilities. Not that he doubted his integrity, at all, nor his honor; he simply wanted to make himself known. It had been an odd introduction, he supposed, but then again, didn't they know each other from someplace else? The Wanderer grinned at that. He knew Blaine believed in different names in different places as well as he did. He also knew he would never in life act the churl, and hhad no misgivings for lovely Cerise.

Eval, on the other hand, he had not yet met, though historically he was not unknown. A notorious rambler in the footsteps of Kiriath, and moreover Sundara's pet. THe Wanderer did not hold any real grudge against the man, but simply recalled a lovely dance with the dark and elegant Sundara-- too long ago, it seemed-- and wondered what the woman's favor brought to the fortunate man it rest upon. He hoped to meet this Eval soon, or perhaps too they had already met, but that was hardly what the Wanderer was thinking about. So of course it wont be mentioned here in any way.

He stood up from the most amazingly comfortable chair with a groan of regret, but the silent hand of the unknown pulled him. And off he went down the Dark hallways. Finding what he was always looking for, a Waygate, he plucked the chora leaf and entered. As he skipped through the pressing shadows, he whistled for the Black Wind, and when it found him it engulfed him. The shrieks and cries of that Wind gave him new energy as he hastened merrily through the Ways.

The Wanderer, always having a trick or two up his sleeve.

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