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Oct. 27th, 2006 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
taishar_malkierMy duty lies here, Nynaeve told him, days ago. Making sure Alivia doesn't kill Rand. But I will take you to the Borderlands. Your duty lies there.
Her duty lies with the Dragon Reborn. His lies at Tarmon Gai'don -- the Last Battle. Lan has always known that he would die in battle someday. Embrace death, men of the Borderlands say; if he goes to the mother's last embrace tomorrow, his only regret is in leaving Nynaeve a widow.
But the gateway she wove took him not to Shienar, but to World's End where Saldaea's eastern cliffs fall into the sea, as far from Shienar as one can get without leaving the Borderlands. He's proud of her, even as the days of hard riding frustrate him: even without swearing the Aes Sedai Oaths, she has learned to manipulate truth enough to mislead even him. And he has no little skill at that game himself.
She bought him time -- days, maybe weeks -- even if he doesn't welcome the time, and can only guess at why she might have done it.
My love, you are a hawk.
Inns are few and far between in the Plain of Lances between Saldaea and Kandor, but they do exist, and this one is right along his route. Pulling Mandarb to a halt in front of the doors, he dismounts, slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder before flipping the groom a coin and allowing him to take Mandarb. The warhorse goes quietly -- after the proper hand-signal, of course.
He burns to keep riding through the night, through the next day, pushing hard to reach the battle at Shayol Ghul. But he learned better years ago. He will not do himself, nor Mandarb, nor the world any good by driving himself to exhaustion.
So he shrugs the heavy saddlebags more securely into place, and strides through the door.
Her duty lies with the Dragon Reborn. His lies at Tarmon Gai'don -- the Last Battle. Lan has always known that he would die in battle someday. Embrace death, men of the Borderlands say; if he goes to the mother's last embrace tomorrow, his only regret is in leaving Nynaeve a widow.
But the gateway she wove took him not to Shienar, but to World's End where Saldaea's eastern cliffs fall into the sea, as far from Shienar as one can get without leaving the Borderlands. He's proud of her, even as the days of hard riding frustrate him: even without swearing the Aes Sedai Oaths, she has learned to manipulate truth enough to mislead even him. And he has no little skill at that game himself.
She bought him time -- days, maybe weeks -- even if he doesn't welcome the time, and can only guess at why she might have done it.
My love, you are a hawk.
Inns are few and far between in the Plain of Lances between Saldaea and Kandor, but they do exist, and this one is right along his route. Pulling Mandarb to a halt in front of the doors, he dismounts, slinging his saddlebags over his shoulder before flipping the groom a coin and allowing him to take Mandarb. The warhorse goes quietly -- after the proper hand-signal, of course.
He burns to keep riding through the night, through the next day, pushing hard to reach the battle at Shayol Ghul. But he learned better years ago. He will not do himself, nor Mandarb, nor the world any good by driving himself to exhaustion.
So he shrugs the heavy saddlebags more securely into place, and strides through the door.
