Over the months serving as Lysira's part-time translator, Zarayne had been privy to more of the Warder Yards than the average Accepted. The language used by the Gaidin and their trainees no longer seemed so inaccessible, and she knew more about the different types of axeheads than she thought possible. Still, her interest was more in the people than the implements they used. She had watched as a love developed between two of the fancloak bearers, finding interest and fascination both in how they had become so in-step with one another, as well as the fact that one was Aiel. Love had never really factored into her assumptions about the Grey Tower, even if she was the product of one such coupling.
One of the other things she'd observed were the routines of prominent figures. The Gaidin Captain and Master of Training were as dependable as clocks with their comings and goings, the former more so than the latter. Her father was less reliable, but there were times when she could be certain that he was going to be in his office, and times when he certainly would be absent.
Two bells before High, Zarayne set her scheme into motion. After walking through the great foyer of the Warder Hall, the Accepted slipped into one of the empty classrooms. She removed her slippers, hiding them behind the base of a weapon rack, then tied up her skirt. The additional freedom was needed if she was going to stalk the halls quickly and silently.
Her destination was the Warder Hall's seldom-used loft. According to some of the older Accepted, it had a disreputable name many years previous for being the sight of many illicit affairs. Changes had been made since that time, mostly in scheduling but also in security, that had made it fall out of favour with the learning ranks. Now it was used for long-term storage. It was the sort of place someone could go and disappear.
Slipping through the servants' stairways got her to the Hall's second floor. She had to wait and watch and listen for others before making her way through the open corridors towards one of the loft's entrances. She moved up the ladder quietly, only leaving toeprints in the dust to show she had been there.
Once in the loft, she had to scramble through and around various boxes, until she was above the south-western side of the Hall. Zarayne tugged a dusty fabric cover off from one of the crates, flipped it upside down, then lay down on it in her small nook. She coughed from the disturbed dust, muffling her noises as best as she could using the back of her hand.
When the dust settled, Zarayne opened herself to saidar. The sweet waters of the True Source rushed about and through her. The hairs in her nose could feel the alien presence of dust particles, but she refused to give into another bout of sneezes. Instead she did as she had come here to do, and as she had practiced around other parts of the Tower. The golden hue of Air merged with the silver shine of Spirit as she entwined the two threads. She was strong in neither element, but this weave was one taught to novices, and known even to some untrained wilders. Her weave slipped into the gaps between the floorboards, taking a cautious path down two stories. Sounds came out from her side of the weave – muffled speech. She slowly extended and moved the far end of her weave until the voices became clearer.
One of the speakers had a deep voice. He sounded graven, although it was a challenge to determine his mood. There was no trace of an accent, but Zarayne knew what the Gaidin Captain sounded like nonetheless. It was the other voice that interested her. It too sounded serious, but it wasn't as deep and rumbling as Ferran Gaidin's. There was also an accent, very clearly and strongly Shienaran in tone. She smiled despite herself, and not for the reasons she suspected she would. Her father's voice was a strange comfort to hear, especially in light of the fact she was spying on him. With her head on one side pressed into the floor, Zarayne closed her eyes and focused on the conversation happening two floors below her.