A woman sat facing away from Jaryd on the other side of a long chamber. As he spoke she turned to face him, sitting back in her chair with her elbows resting on the armrests and her fingers steepled in front of her chest. “It brought you to this room, so mission accomplished. I half expected you to bring the palace down around my ears without so much as a how do you do.”
Jaryd tilted his head as he slipped further into the room. “Maybe I needed to know the the truth before I put you in the ground again,” he responded. After a moment he added, “I watched you burn, Marisa.”
The swarthy woman laughed as she pushed herself to her feet. “Does it hurt your feelings that the flames didn’t stick?” The woman glided forward, pausing just outside arm’s reach to study him like a farmer might study a new mule. “The great and powerful Jaryd, Head of the Red Ajah, unable to set a common girl on fire. That’s a terrible premise for a story; I suppose it’s good you have no children to tell it to.”
The Asha’man grit his teeth. Anger had no place in this discussion.
She reached out, fingers brushing the black stone at his throat before Jaryd could step away. “You still wear my necklace. I’m touched, but isn’t that a tad inappropriate? I would think with a new lover in the picture you’d leave such trinkets behind.” The Void trembled, but Jaryd’s face remained calm. She couldn’t possibly- “That blonde you found is simply delicious,” Marisa purred. “Not quite your usual fare, is he? I hate to continue this trend you have of tragically losing your lovers, but you make it so easy. Does he know what he’s-” Marisa’s words cut off in a startled yelp as a wall of Air slammed through the room and knocked her off her feet.
Perhaps anger had its place after all.
---
The Gateway rotated closed.
The contrast between the brilliant sun of Ebou Dar and the lamplight in his room rendered the slender man nearly blind, but he felt his way to his couch and tumbled forward with a relieved sigh. His hair and clothes were a mess; he would need to change soon. For now, however, he simply wanted to rest. Dark eyes fluttered closed and for a time he drifted in and out of consciousness, playing back the fight in thoughts and dreams.
An odd sound began to infiltrate his musings. The Asha’man frowned, glancing around for the source before realizing it came from the door. A key in the lock? A key...? For a moment he floundered. No one could get into his rooms. No one even tried anymore; his Wards had made sure of that. Why would someone try now? Marisa, perhaps, when she found she could not follow him within. But she didn’t have a key. No one did except-
Jaren.
An electric shock thrummed through his body and Jaryd pushed himself upright in a tangle of wiry limbs. How could it be? It had only been a few years, a short time frame by anyone’s standards. Tia? It had to be. No one else had the guts to stand up to the Amyrlin like that. A thousand confused thoughts flashed through his elated mind until Jaryd remembered the Dreadlord’s mocking threat. Sobriety returned and for a breath the Red considered simply Traveling away. If it would keep the Andoran safe, keep him alive, better to be-
“His choice, not yours, knucklehead,” he muttered. "When will you learn?" Then the door was opening and the Creator himself couldn’t have forced the Altaran to move.