[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.

Comments

[bialy_wilk]

There's a shadow of amusement at the corner of his mouth as he nods to her toast. "These Sources," he says. "Or whatever you have that's like them. They able to learn how to control their power? Channel, like you said?"

[blue_ajah]

She inclines her head in assent before confirming with a simple "Yes."

Rand had been able to learn to channel and to control his abilities, both, after all - even his ta'veren nature, to a degree.

[bialy_wilk]

"How?"

He studies her with guarded interest. "Study at a school? With a mentor?"

[blue_ajah]

"Either may be possible, depending on a student's particular circumstances."

She waits, then, to see if he will admit the reason for his interest.

[bialy_wilk]

"Hm."

It's low in his chest, more grunt than hum, and his glance tracks away from her, toward the fireplace, where he can watch the flames flicker as his thoughts drift.

[blue_ajah]

"If you would be willing to share more about the potential student, or students, that you are interested in, perhaps I might be able to offer more specific advice," she murmurs. "I myself am not inexperienced in teaching such things."

[bialy_wilk]

He watches the coals in the fire settle for another long moment, considering. Even when he speaks, he doesn't look back over at her just yet. "It's not you," he says, then amends. "Maybe a little. I don't always have the best luck with sorceresses."

Understatement. "It's not safe. For... a potential student. For too many people to know about them."

[blue_ajah]

"I am not offended," the Aes Sedai replies. "Caution in such matters is strongly advisable."

She takes another sip of the wine, letting her glance rest on the glass, although she continues to observe him from the edge of her vision.

"As it happens, I am not unfamiliar with that, either."

[bialy_wilk]

"Yeah, I'm getting that."

The flames reflect in his yellow eyes before he looks back to her. "Ever hear of the Wild Hunt? The Red Riders, they're sometimes called."

[blue_ajah]

"Not by that latter name, that I recall, but yes. I have." Moiraine looks up at him. "It has appeared in different ways in different worlds here, that I know as well. In the world where I was born, the Shadow's hounds pursue their prey under the direction of their leader, who himself has many names."

[bialy_wilk]

"They're after this person," the witcher says, blunt. "Been chasing them for years."

[blue_ajah]

She lets out a long, soft sigh, but there is no surprise in the dark eyes. "A close Mirror indeed," she murmurs. "Light illumine and protect this person, then. I presume you are intimately aware of the various dangers, if they are anything like those I have seen. Do you have good weapons against them?"

[bialy_wilk]

"No."

He's still never seen the weapon that can defeat the Hunt. "They die, sure. But they don't go down easy. Why this person's been on the run for so long."

[blue_ajah]

"No, I suspect they would not, at that. And if this person is not able to channel, or otherwise use their power under control..." She shakes her head.

[bialy_wilk]

"Control's always been a problem," he muses. "Even with the greatest sorceresses of their generation trying to help."

[blue_ajah]

There is something very wry about her expression. “I might surmise that they came to an awareness of their power on their own?”

[bialy_wilk]

His mouth tightens as he remembers the palace of Cintra, Pavetta in the middle of a windstorm of power.

"It's usually when they're frightened," he says, finally. "Hurt. Some big emotional shift. That's what triggers a Source."

[blue_ajah]

Understanding flickers in her eyes. “Fear,” she agrees. “Anger, even verging on rage. Desperation. One of the women I know, a young woman stronger in the Power than anyone in generations, struggled greatly in finding her way to channel without emotion lashing her.”

[bialy_wilk]

He nods, slowly. "The mages and sorceresses," he says. "They looked for Sources. Wanted to bring them to Aretuza and Ban Ard, teach 'em how to use their power. It never really worked, but that was the thought."

[blue_ajah]

“Why did it not work?”

She can think of several possible reasons, but better if he were to share his own.

[bialy_wilk]

"For most of them?"

He shrugs. "No idea. Best guess is because they don't use the power. It uses them. They're more like a... transmitter."

[blue_ajah]

She tips her head very slightly, considering that; considering him. "And your potential student?"

[bialy_wilk]

He breathes out, long, through his nose. "A special case. Most Sources, they let go, they can destroy a house, maybe a town. This one could bring about the end of the world."

A pause, before he goes on. "According to an old prophecy."

[blue_ajah]

"The Wheel weaves," she murmurs, "and all things are part of the Pattern. Such prophecies are often difficult to interpret, but there is peril in discarding them."

Considering, she recites, "The tides of men run out, and the hours dwindle. The wall is pierced, and the veil of parting raised. Storms rumble beyond the horizon, and the fires of heaven purge the earth. There is no salvation without destruction, no hope this side of death."

Moiraine reaches for her glass and takes a sip of wine. "From the Karaethon Cycle. The Prophecies of the Dragon."

[bialy_wilk]

"Cheery," the witcher remarks, dry.

"Any of it come to pass?"