blue_ajah |

She has kept her silence for quite some while, knowing that the pace of time that passes between Twin Peaks and Milliways, and between Milliways and the world of her birth, is slowed and slowed again by factors she cannot explain. Still, it is no small gift, in that it grants her space in which to think and plan.

The Aes Sedai has used that time to study her options and the prophecies of the Karatheon Cycle, to dwell on the sound of the wind at night and her restless unease with every dawn. She has mulled over what Nynaeve had told her, and all the possibilities that the apocalypse at the bar at the end of all worlds may now have brought upon them.

("I cannot go back without undoing what was done. Can I?"

"That, I think, is mostly a question of how far back, yes? Or possibly it is a different kind of forward.")

There are other considerations to be taken into account, as it happens.

Dinner has become a habit for them, now, at least once or twice every week. It is her turn to host tonight, in the little house that she had begun to call her own. Moiraine has come to believe that she will always prefer tea, but she has developed something of a fondness for coffee all the same, and has been trying her hand at new ways of brewing it for these occasions.

The French press stands before her now on the countertop, and she slants a sideways look at him as she reaches for the canister that holds the coffee.

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She does not answer his question directly, not at first.

"I believe that I know you well enough now to say that your life has never been what others might call simple," the Aes Sedai murmurs. "Indeed, it could not be, in a sense, for you are not a simple man, for all that you have an appreciation for such things."

"Sometimes I wonder if my presence here has complicated your life more than what it might otherwise be..."

She glances sideways at him, and a faint smile curves her lips.

"... but I am also certain that you have considered such things long ago, and made your own choices and decisions in that regard."

Cooper inclines his head.

He respects her opinion; while he might not agree wholly with what she says, no one can say that Moiraine is unobservant.

"That's a fair conclusion to draw."

She nods.

"I will answer your question, Dale, you have my word, but first I must ask: why do you so clearly draw the line between what you have called guardianship and that which a Warder does?"

Cooper blinks, straightening. "Because you do." It sounds like it might be a question. "Being a Warder means something very specific to you, and it's not something that I am, or that I've ever been."

Dark eyes meet his.

"It could be."

It could be. And yet -- what little Cooper knows about the Warder bond includes the part where it involves a permanent connection between the minds of the Warder and the one warded.

And Dale Cooper has had a lifetime's worth of someone (or something) having access to his mind.

Something in Cooper's eyes suggests shutters drawn. But he speaks almost gently when he says, "It's not something that I am."

Her gaze never wavers, but she inclines her head in acknowledgement and acceptance.

"I suspected as much. It is why I have never asked."

That faint smile touches her lips again.

"Not because I have any less regard for you."

A sip of coffee. "I never thought it was, Moiraine."

She nods.

"As to your question, then... in the capacity of a guardian, and a friend, and a man whom I trust to watch my back, among other things."

A flicker of sorrow is apparent, but it does not stop her from saying what needs to be said. The stakes are once again too high.

"It is no easy request, Dale; believe me, that I know. If what I fear is true, and the crossing is successful, it will be war, and you have responsibilities here."

Her gaze is clear and direct.

"I will understand, if you decline."

The oath which he took upon becoming an agent of the Federal Bureau of Investigation involved swearing to support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Cooper is fairly sure that the oath sworn upon entry to the armed forces is similar. But a lawman isn't a soldier.

"Before I decide -- " After a long moment. "I'd like more information. And... you should be aware of my own personal limitations. My marksmanship is something I'm rightfully proud of, I've participated in firefights, I can take part in covert operations -- but I'm not combat-ready, Moiraine, and I'd be worthless in an army."

"I do not think that my fight will be on that kind of battlefield," Moiraine says, quietly.

"From what Min saw, from what Lan told me before, from earlier conversations with Rand and from the ... answers ... I received to questions I bargained for and from the things I myself have been given knowledge of in a city elsewhere, I have reason to believe the part I may play will not be among the armies. Nor yours, should you choose to accompany me."

She pauses to lift her cup, take a sip of coffee, and then sets it aside with a firm finality and braids her fingers together, resting her hands in her lap as she faces him.

"Ask what you will. I will answer as openly as I may."

Which means, Cooper thinks, that the courteous thing will mean phrasing his questions carefully, in light of her particular strictures on speech.

"The basic question," Cooper says, "is what you think the part you'll play might be."

"In a sense, I expect it may not be all that different from what I have done before," she replies.

"I have served Rand al'Thor as advisor and sometime guardian, and now believe that I shall do so again."

"But you think that it would be a physically dangerous situation." Eyebrows raised. "Or else you wouldn't want a guard."

She does not smile, and her dark-eyed gaze remains steady on his.

"I believe that Rand's battle will be fought with the Dark One himself, on the very rocks of Shayol Ghul. And if he will have it so, I shall be at his side, or as close as may be."

Dale Cooper doesn't look happy with this in the slightest.

"If that comes to pass, Moiraine, do you expect to return alive?"

She does not hesitate.

"Light willing, it may be so. If we win."

Another sip of coffee. He's got phrasing to work out.

"In light of the fact that of the three parties you've mentioned -- being yourself, Rand, and this Dark One -- all three of you have abilities that in this world we'd consider preternatural... what is it you think I could possibly contribute?"

And now she does smile, faint but clear.

"Dale, you of all people should realize - for all that I have the ability to channel, I am yet only human. There are weaknesses, not often spoken of among the Aes Sedai, but they exist all the same."

A single beat of silence.

"For one, I cannot weave where I cannot see. For another - it is possible to form a link, between men and women who can channel. Think of it as a circle of strength, if you will; one that greatly increases what may be done with the One Power. It is not like when women alone form the link; instead, the woman initiates it, where the man cannot, and then passes control to the man, who directs the weave."

Her voice remains steady, very carefully so.

"At that point, she may not control her own weaving, nor may she leave the circle until she is released."

"So you'd have me guard against Rand?"

She blinks in visible surprise, without even trying to hide it.

"Light, no!"

Moiraine draws a quick breath and continues, more softly,

"No. Not that. Against..."

Her voice trails off for a second as she searches for the right words.

"... any who might try to stop him. When he is fully engaged in the battle which is his to fight, if we are linked, then to some degree I expect that we will be defenseless against physical attack."

Another beat of silence, then she adds, dryly:

"Rand does not trust many among those who are now Aes Sedai. He has reason. And the Dark One has his servants."

"Why would he trust me to do that job, then?"

"He might not. But I think that in this, he will trust my judgement."

And in theory that should be enough.

But it isn't. Cooper finishes his coffee, puts the mug on the table. "Moiraine, do you remember when you proposed to participate in a mission to western China and needed information beyond the most bare generalities? And in the course of our discussion, it became clear that a little more knowledge of the development of firearms since the 1860s would be beneficial?"

She inclines her head, gracefully.

"I do."

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