blue_ajah | [pfsb] the mirrors of the wheel

[pfsb] the mirrors of the wheel

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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Is there a less appealing update she could have given than it stirs? His mouth twists.

"Sounds like some protection for you wouldn't be a bad idea, then."

"Very likely," the Aes Sedai agrees, composed. "Especially as if there is an intelligence to it, which the entity has demonstrated in the past, it may well come for what it perceives to be a threat first and foremost."

She has expected something of the sort for some time now, in fact.

"That's always been my experience with intelligent enemies," the witcher agrees. "Got one of those Warders up your sleeves?"

She shakes her head, her composure unwavering. "He who was my Warder for twenty years is bonded to another Aes Sedai now. Our connection ended when I was imprisoned and believed dead - including by him."

She says it as a matter of fact, one that does not appear to trouble her. Perhaps something of the reason why may be apparent as she continues, "They are well matched, and I am glad of it."

"Leaves you out a Warder, though. Bad luck."

Especially considering the situation in which she has now found herself.

"I will not deny it would be helpful," Moiraine agrees, dryly. "But things are as they are."

"Guess so." He loosens his arms in a shrug, lets his palms fall to his thighs.

"Well, good luck."

"Thank you." A faint smile touches her lips. "Do not think, however, that I would be opposed to - how did you put it? Hiring myself some help. But I suspect you may also understand that I might not wish for someone who could be so hired to feel himself under unwanted obligation."

"Better hammer out the obligations before making a contract," he tells her. "You might find those with swords for sale are willing to put up with a lot, depending on the price and assuming there aren't any unpleasant surprises."

"Certainly pleasant surprises would likely be preferred over the other kind," she agrees. "Since you are the expert, then, how would you go about making a contract of this sort?"

"Usually, people tell me what they're up against and what they want from me, and then I tell them what I'm willing to do," Geralt tells her. "Then we negotiate price. So: what are you up against, and what do you want?"

She considers him, then nods. "I wish to strengthen and test the wards around the grove and the pool at its center," she says. "It is the pool that is haunted or cursed, or something of the sort, and from which sometimes things emerge. I do not know if it can truly be sealed without the danger of a backlash and explosion, but if sufficient protections can be set, then perhaps it does not need to be."

Her tone grows more thoughtful. "It is resonant, in its way, of malign power. I anticipate there is a possibility that something might emerge from it to try to stop me, when I begin to work. It is at that point that I might be vulnerable to attack, and it would be helpful to have a defender."

He lifts a hand, palm up. "This potential attacker... what's it like? What are its powers? How would it attack?"

"I do not know all of the possibilities for certain," she cautions. "But of what I do know, I shall explain what I can."

Her dark-eyed gaze grows thoughtful and a little distant as she considers. "The most dangerous entity that I myself and others that I know have encountered is a spirit, of sorts. He - it - used to also manifest certain qualities that might be observed in a dream given substance, a nightmare of Tel'aran'rhiod, the World of Dreams. That ability, I believe, has ended."

She is fairly certain of it, but it is not as though she can ask. Some things are better left in the past and not stirred up anew.

"What remains is the murderous spirit. Some have said it is the ghost of a murderous man that draws power from feeding on fear and pain. It has possessed people, and driven them to torture and kill, and feasted on their agony."

"Hm. Some parts of that's familiar. Others, not so much." He shakes his head at her, but his focus is clear. "Not sure the details matter that much, though. Murderous spirit, might try and possess you, too, I'd guess. Kind of thing I've dealt with before."

Interested curiosity is bright in her glance. "How do you manage such a thing?"

"Few ways, depending on the spirit involved." He reaches for his wine glass, tips what's left into his mouth, then looks back at her.

"If it's noncorporeal, draw it out, use the sign of Yrden to trap it. Coat my silver sword in specter oil for the fight. If it's possessed somebody..."

Well. Good thing he's got Reinald's philter with him now. "Makes it harder, but not impossible."

Sudden intensity settles in every line of her as she grows still, all her attention given to him now. "You can free a person so possessed from the spirit?"

"Sometimes," he cautions. "Doesn't always work. Sometimes it works, but the one possessed has been under for too long. I'd rather avoid it entirely, if possible."

"Still, it is more of a hope, of a chance, than has been known in the past where this entity has been involved."

It is a risk, of course, but many things are, and the potential gain here is worth the chance of loss. Neither will doing this break the wording of her previous promises, and in truth if successful it may offer not only more protection to the town and its people but may also increase the likelihood of future success.

Moiraine makes her decision and meets the golden eyes of the man sitting across from her. "Very well. Would you be willing to undertake a contract? I will understand if the answer is no," she is careful to add. "After all, it is evident that you have matters of grave concern to attend to in your own world, as well."

The witcher considers for a long moment, then nods. "I do," he agrees. "But those matters will be a little easier to manage with some extra coin in my pocket. Besides – "

His rare, wry smile is back, more a softening of his mouth and a crinkle at the edge of his golden eyes than anything else. "You can't help Ciri if you get killed by some demonic spirit. One more reason to do it."

Moiraine's answering smile is warm with understanding. "I will do what I can for her," she promises. "Here or elsewhere."

Light willing, it will not be a situation as desperate as when she felt it necessary to make clear to Rand just how far she was willing to go to prevent him falling into the Dark One's hands.

He nods at her. "Then the last thing to agree on is price. A hundred crowns seems fair, for the risk. Not sure what that might translate to, for your currency."

"I am willing to accept that as a fair price. And as it happens, I am accustomed to managing business in different coin, both here and in my own birth world."

She touches the carafe, offering silently to refill his glass for him. "I presume you will need a few days to make your own arrangements so that you may freely travel?"

He nods to her silent invitation, then glances at the door. "I'd like to stock up on a few things, yeah. I won't need long. Day or two, at most."

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