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TAIRENS [SETTING: Ishamael's office as Acting CEO of the Darkfriends, in the absence of the Chairman of the Board, Mister Great Lord of the Dark himself! (His friends call him "Great Lord" for short). Or at least, this is the T'A'R manifestation of that office, since Ishy is still bound in the flesh for the time being.] [As we open, Ishamael is standing on his desk with his back to the door, one hand pressed over his heart, orating. Tairen enters behind him. A fairly tall woman, robed and veiled so that one cannot see much of her features.] ISHAMAEL: My dear brothers and sisters of the Chosen, it is with humble gratitude that I accept the title of Nae'blis from the hand of our revered Great Lord of the Dark. I scarcely know what to say. Surprised as I was, I fear I have no fancy speech prepared, but will merely share my first reaction with you . . . straight from the heart! Never did I expect such an honor, yet it is comforting to reflect upon this reward for the millennia of faithful service that I gave without any thought of my own comfort, while CERTAIN OTHER PARTIES were sleeping soundly here in Shayol Ghul, too lazy to bestir themselves and - TAIREN [clearing his throat]: Er, Great Lord? ISHAMAEL [spinning around to see who's there, and - is it possible? - he almost seems to be blushing!]: What? Oh, hello! Come on in! I was just practicing my acceptance speech for when the Great Lord is sufficiently free to begin issuing rewards for faithful service . . . as a wise man once said, "Sounding spontaneous is mainly a matter of careful preparation." TAIREN [politely]: As you say, Great Lord! But you wanted to ask me some questions? ISHAMAEL [seating himself behind his desk again]: How goes the Great Work in Tear? TAIREN: Well, we still have the STRONG tradition that the man who wields Callandor will be our rightful ruler . . . ISHAMAEL: Good, good . . . I must make sure there are no witnesses when the Dragon gets it. Then I take it away from him, show myself to the High Lords of Tear and announce I'm the Dragon Reborn, and that's all she wrote! TAIREN: Also, we permit no woman to channel within our borders. If an Aes Sedai comes (and we can usually recognize them as such, by the ageless face) she is permitted to travel to and fro, but always with a few men watching her. Any sign of channeling and she's in trouble! ISHAMAEL: Excellent! If only more nations (besides the Amadicians, who take it even farther) could be brought to share that viewpoint about channeling being too dangerous to allow! TAIREN: When you are free in the flesh, Great Lord, will you joining us in Tear? As a High Lord, perhaps? ISHAMAEL [after pondering the idea for a moment]: No, no, I think I'll let Be'lal do all that. Good old Be'lal, always thought he was so tricky . . . "Netweaver," he called himself. As if his old schemes did him the least bit of good in the end! *I* was the only one whose precautions were adequate to keep me from spending the next three millennia in a coma when everything went wrong! Yes, I'll suggest that since he was KNOWN as the Netweaver, and since Tairens are really obsessed with the fishing industry (which is dependent upon weaving lots of nets and knowing what to do with them) that he OUGHT to install himself at Tear because it will be such an OBVIOUS place for the Netweaver to go that it will be the last place anybody looks! That's exactly the sort of meaningless doubletalk that Be'lal will always fall for. I can read him like a book:) ISHAMAEL [shaking his head as if catching himself before he says too much]: All right, get out of here, Alteima. On your way out, send in the black-veiled Aiel who's lurking outside, will ya? [Alteima exits] ISHAMAEL [muttering to himself]: No need to tell her what Callandor REALLY is, besides the proof that one is the Dragon Reborn! Be'lal will probably get the point, but I'll urge him to toy with the Dragon Reborn while urging him to grab it! "Go on, grab it! I dare ya! I double dare ya! For sentimental reasons, I'll give you one little chance to save yourself!" Of course (I'll tell him) the idea is to have the Dragon pull the blasted thing out of those wards that nobody else can penetrate, and then kill him and take it away from him! Frankly, I figure odds are Be'lal will take his cat and-mouse game too far and get killed (if the Dragon can't handle it, I'll do it myself!), but then I'll balefire the Dragon, grab the sword, and be king of the world! [Struck by a sudden thought, he starts scribbling notes] Hmmm . . . logically, any other male Forsaken would also want to get his greasy little hands on Callandor . . . I must find alternatives to distract them all. For Sammael, for instance, I might recommend he settle in Illian, whose capital city is (arguably) the richest in the world! Sammael never was imaginative, he'll probably go for it. Come to think of it, on the rare occasions when he DOES get creative, he usually messes everything up. Why, I think if the Dragon Reborn was facing him in single combat, Sammy Boy would probably do something totally brainless like Gate to Shadar Logoth and hope for that soul-drinking mist to get the Dragon before it got him! (Shakes his head) Nah, I exaggerate. Even Sammy wouldn't be THAT much of a fool . . . I'm just fantasizing again. |