[pfsb] the mirrors of the wheel

[blue_ajah]

The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and all things are part of the Pattern. There is little that she can do now but wait, guard against events worsening as best she can, and watch.

As a result, Moiraine is in the bar this evening, musing over her thoughts with a cup of tea at hand and a slender, leather-bound journal open to a blank page before her.

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[hunted_hanza]

These last few days have been full of surprises. No less so than when she'd left Vizima with a broken phlactery in tow and the new knowledge of a place between places, a place where Geralt and Ciri have also been and where the two young men Geralt had with him in the Emperor's city have stayed.

She lacks Ciri's ability to travel between worlds, but there isn't any reason the theory of traveling to a well-established waypoint would not hold – and indeed, hold it does. Her portal leads her not to the cold stone halls of Kaer Morhen, but to a door in the air; one she reaches for and opens.

"Curious," she murmurs, as she closes the door behind herself, violet eyes alight with sharp interest. She touches the obsidian star at her throat and lowers her hand once more. "How very curious, indeed."

[blue_ajah]

Among the patrons of this inn sits a woman dressed all in blue; a deep shade, somewhere between indigo and midnight, with a blue gem hanging from a golden chain that disappears into her dark hair. It is difficult to tell her age from her ageless face, and her dark eyes are thoughtful indeed as she studies the newcomer.

“Many things here are, you may find,” she observes.

[hunted_hanza]

Yennefer, attired in luxuriously crisp black and white as is her wont, casts a guarded glance the woman's way. "Indeed," she says, noncommittal.

"Though you seem somewhat familiar with it all; enough to be comfortable, at any rate."

[blue_ajah]

“I have been visiting here for some time,” she replies, and gestures gracefully at the seat across from her in invitation.

“So you might say I am well acquainted with this place.”

[hunted_hanza]

Yennefer takes the proffered seat with similar grace, then settles one long leg over the other and leans onto her knee.

"I suppose I might," she says, idly. "But would you say that?"

[blue_ajah]

“I might as well,” she replies, unruffled. “And I may speak no word that is not true.”

[hunted_hanza]

"May you not?" Yennefer considers the woman, re-assessing. "What a fascinating life choice to have made. Was it a personal decision or imposed upon you?"

[blue_ajah]

“In a sense, one might describe it as both,” Moiraine tells her. “I am Aes Sedai. To be Aes Sedai, one must swear the Three Oaths. ‘To speak no word that is not true’ is the first.”

Almost idly, she adds, “And my name is Moiraine.”

[hunted_hanza]

"I suppose it must be," Yennefer murmurs, and tosses back a few glossy, raven-black waves of hair. "And the other two oaths? Are they similarly restrictive?"

There's a beat of silence, and she offers, similarly off-handed: "My name is Yennefer."

[blue_ajah]

“Similarly,” she agrees. “They are to make no weapon with which one man may kill another; and never to use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defense of her own life, or that of her Warder or another Aes Sedai.”

She touches the lid of the nearby teapot in silent question.

[hunted_hanza]

"Thank you," Yennefer tells her, smoothly. "That would be lovely."

Tea is far from her favorite drink, but when attempting to learn about someone it is not a terrible idea to meet them where they are. "Noble oaths," she says. "And binding, it sounds?"

For after all the woman had said may not, not will not. So there must be some geas involved. "I have never heard of Aes Sedai or aWarder or Shadowspawn – or the One Power, although I can make some educated guesses. But I suppose that is the nature of this place, is it not?"

[blue_ajah]

"Indeed," Moiraine murmurs, perfectly composed as she pours a cup for the other woman and passes it over.

"It does not seem to trouble you, I notice."

[hunted_hanza]

"Trouble me, no."

She accepts the tea and stirs a little sugar into it. "But I admit it inflames my curiosity."

Yennefer lifts her tea. "Tell me, Moiraine: in my position, as a newcomer to this marvelous place, what would you consider to be the most important thing to ask?"

[bialy_wilk]

When the door opens, it opens onto an empty, spartan hunter's cottage, an open chest just visible before the barrier swings shut again.

The witcher enters, weary, stinking of blood and silver. He limps a little from the gashes raked into his thigh by the werewolf's claws, his expression set and grim. No coin for him, after this. Only death, for his petitioner, for the wife, for the sister who'd plotted everything.

Wine sounds like a good start to his evening here. And plenty of it.

[blue_ajah]

She sets her pen in the crease between the journal's pages as the newcomer's arrival draws her attention. After so long, the Aes Sedai is well able to discern the difference between someone who has visited before and someone who has some level of familiarity with this place, whether she has met them or not.

This one does not appear surprised to find himself here at all, nor does he take the measure of the room itself other than the sort of unconscious assessment that one uses when evaluating a place for potential threat. Given the damage to his attire, what is clearly a wound of some sort, she can well imagine that it is a matter of some interest to him.

She tips her head back in a nod of greeting, letting the light catch and glint from the kesiera she wears, and waits to see his reaction.

[bialy_wilk]

Wonderful. The aristocracy.

The witcher limps her direction, an ignored waitrat scuttling after him, and folds his arms once he's standing before her. "Need something?"

[blue_ajah]

Moiraine arches an eyebrow. "Most people do," she observes. "Including yourself."

She nods toward his injured leg and meets his yellow eyes with no sign of surprise, although sudden interest sharpens her glance.

"I have something of a talent for healing, if you would wish assistance."

[bialy_wilk]

The witcher grunts, meeting that interested look with his own level one. "And what'll it cost me?"

He has Swallow, and he'll heal up, in time, but it wouldn't be such a bad thing if she can speed the process along.

[blue_ajah]

"We need not speak of debt now," she replies, unruffled. "But if you insist on some form of payment, information may suffice."

[bialy_wilk]

"Usually when I insist on payment, it's the other way around."

He doesn't move yet, studying her closely with his yellow cat's eyes. "What kind of information?"

[blue_ajah]

"You are not the first person I have known with golden eyes, as it happens," she murmurs. "I should be interested to hear more of yours."

[bialy_wilk]

"Hm." It's a low rumble in his chest, before he comes and drags out a seat at her table, carefully dropping down into it. His thigh is beginning to stiffen up.

"Bet you find some of that while you do your healing. But sure. It's a deal."

[blue_ajah]

"Perhaps," Moiraine allows. "The Wheel weaves. Remain still, if you would."

A golden corona springs into being around her as she opens herself to saidar. Without further warning, she leans forward and places both hands flat against his wounded leg.

Threads of silver-blue radiance streak from her fingertips, weaving together in strands of light tinged with red-gold.

[bialy_wilk]

He stays still, as requested, but takes in all the details of her strange magic. It's not like anything he's familiar with on the Continent, and it isn't like anything else he's seen here, either.

But it seems to be working. So that's a good sign.

[blue_ajah]

He is not unfamiliar with power, she notes, or else he has such command of himself as is rare among most men.

A surge of Air and Water pours through him like a torrent as his flesh knits itself back together under her command. She chases it with Sprit, Delving for further harm, and finds hints of an old injury to his knee - not unlike Thom Merrilin's, she realizes, and keeps even the faintest hint of wistfulness from her features. She cannot Heal it, not completely, but she can ease the ache for a time and so she does.

Finished, she releases the One Power and meets his eyes as the glow around her fades. "I have done what I might."