"We are in your debt." Davian said, giving a bow to the captain to give at least a show of politeness. Despite the attempt, the man waved him off with a grunt.

"Just because I can hook a shark from a boat, I do not offer to wrestle it in the water." The Captain muttered, stepping away. Davian was not sure of the exact meaning, but he could hazard a guess. He turned away, hearing two men hauling one of the lines begin to whisper to one another, 'glad they were dealing with a sea folk woman rather than an aes sedai' they said. He hid a sardonic smile. In the distance, he fancied he heard yelling, and the lines of men and women on the docks were replaced with a more organized distribution of distant figures. Apparently The Defenders had arrived just a minute too late.

Davian pulled aside one of the crew, the man carrying a think timbered box in his bare arms. "Where can we put our steeds?"

The man shrugged Davian's hand off of him with a scowl. "The aft door, now leave me be, thief."

Davian let the matter drop. The men on the boat all held one eye on he and the aes sedai, and he could not necessarily blame them. He recognized a few Taraboners and Illainers amongst the Tearian and Andoran majority. At least none were sea folk that might be able to tell the aes sedai was lying, if lying one could call it. Davian would, but she might not. He then realized something, and filtered back through his memory to when he had spoken to her, before the chase through the street.

---

The Captain, a man named Farth Balgon, had granted them what quarters they could get, which was a cramped little space with a door and a bed. The aes sedai had insisted they bring it a hammock as well and set it up so Davian could have a place to sleep, and he was not certain if he should be insulted she had claimed the bed off hand or had gone to the length to find him a suitable subsitute. Either way, once their quarters had been settled, the two of them joined the crew in the kitchens for supper for a brief period. The men gave them a wide berth and shied away from even looking in their direction, though Davian felt eyes wherever he did not face.

After dinner, he ushered the aes sedai into their quarters, telling the captain they needed to retire early. He gave them a noncommital grunt, though he seemed to step lightly wherever Sakura was concerned.

After Davian shut the door, he turned to the aes sedai and took the only chair in the room, offering she sit on the small cot she had procured. She still wore the garb of the Athan’miere, and though it was fetching on her, it was a reminder that not all was likely what it appeared. He was used to being more charming or forthright with women, but even now he felt he should tread carefully with an aes sedai, so he gesticulated with his hand as if to invite her to an open dialogue and said. "I do not trust the walls here very much, but even still, you have not asked me why I rescued you in the Stone. And since you have not, I think I shall initiate the questions. Tell me, what was your true purpose in Tear, and what is your full name? Unless you wish for me to call you Mistress Sakura after we reach land. If we're to travel together, I require honesty, not..." He glanced at the door, and then spoke softly. "-tower honesty."

Zoya would have very much liked to brush her hair, but her brush, her clothing and all the possessions she had traveled with were back in her lodgings in Tear. Doubtless the Highlords would seize them. Ultimately that was a cheap price to pay. She was the first Aes Sedai to set foot in the Great Holding of Tear in hundreds of years and the first on to recover anything from it in history. The other Browns were going to be so jealous.

"We of the Tower are invariably honest," Zoya replied.

"As for my name it is Zoya Sakura and I am a sister of the Brown Ajah," she replied haughtily. "As for my purpose..." She unwrapped the colorful cloth which served as her disguise to reveal the original garments beneath. She began to pull the small objects she had looted from the stone free from the various pockets and pouches, setting them on the desk, forming a pile of strange objects. Finally she retrieved the puzzle box she had come to Tear for. It was a cube with rounded edges, its face covered with cunningly set stones that rotated around each other to form stylized maps.

"I learned that this object may allow me to find an artifact which has been lost since the Age of Legends. If I do not recover it, then the Dark One's armies may march across the world when the time comes for the Last Battle." The words hung heavy in the air for a moment.

"What object?" Davian asked warily.

"The Horn of Valere," Zoya told him simply.

The days passed without much conflict, thankfully. At least at the start of their journey. Davian had made himself useful, hauling lines with the men and carrying what needed carrying, refusing only menial work like sweeping or mopping the deck. He had spent his youth doing such things, and he refused to do so again. The weather had stayed behind them mercifully, the looming clouds chasing them, but the winds were on their side. The men began to insist it was due to Zoya and her powers of the sea, but Davian had other things on his mind.

The Horn of Valere.

Even in Ebou Dar, the legend was a popular one. As a child he had imagined himself becoming one of the fabled hunters of the horn, finding the sacred object and putting it to his lips to save the westlands from a terrible fate. He entertained the idea of using it against the dreadlords of the trolloc wars, having risen again to swallow the world in darkness. Fancies of a child with a sword, ones he had not thought of for over a decade and a half. Now he was told by an Aes Sedai, a light cursed thieving Aes Sedai, that she was going after it, and that she needed his help.

That night she confided in him, he could not sleep. He had gone up to the decks to walk the ship back and forth, before he drowsed off there for an hour or two before stalking again restlessly. He was not sure if he should be angry with her or impressed, and the conundrum was driving him up the wall. The woman had convinced him she was innocent, he had saved her life, then found out she had tricked him and now required his help! Light blast her! He had a comfortable living in Tear! But now, it was bigger than him. This had to do with the world itself.

The journey grew a bit more exciting on day three, when Davian had been looking out over the waves. Land was not in sight, though the Captain had said they were close to shore by some measure. He had seen dolphins playing across the waves the past hour, and was hoping to spy them again, before he heard whispers on the wind.

"That bloody witch means no good for us. You think she's keeping the storm off? She is the storm! It's following her, just like the Defenders were coming after her and her man. She's no good I tell you." The voice said. Davian glanced to his left, one of the sailors speaking behind a few of the crates to a crowd of three who listened intently.

"But Gil, Captain says she's good for the waves, and the fellow Davian has been helping us out." One of the listeners replied.

"Fool on the Captain, then! Mark my words, these clouds won't leave us until we get rid of the witch!"

Davian had been on edge for days, and this was just the fix he needed. He pushed off the railing and strode past the crates, rounding on the small group of conspirators with a deadly grace. One man saw him first and yelped, and the others blanched at his appearance, save for the accuser. He was a wiry man with a wandering eye, with a short beard that looked like cut wheat. "I have killed men for less. Luckily for you, I will give you a fighting chance, sir."

"What?" He asked, confused. Davian reached forward, grabbing his collar, and yanked him out onto the middle of the deck. The man stumbled, but caught himself and pushed Davian off of him, his defenses now up. All eyes were now on them, the men in the sails above, the men swabbing the deck, and all those besides. Zoya nor the Captain were there yet, but a man left to likely inform the both of them. Gil reared up, eyeing Davian dangerously. "You put your hands on me again..."

"Go ahead and tell everyone what you were saying," Davian challenged him, raising his voice to be heard. His back was now to the aft, and he would not see Zoya present, though she arrived quickly. "Tell them all that you think our Athan’miere is a witch, and a curse on the ship! That I am a villain and a rogue, yes?" Davian watched as Gil began to look around, suddenly nervous. Davian snarled, and unsheathed his sidesword, the blade gleaming in the afternoon sun. "I intend to duel you."

"Duel? We don't due-"

"In Ebou Dar, a man duels another man if they cut in line or do not offer proper respect. Your insults are worse, and the mark of a coward. Fight me or swear silence to your tongue, or next time I will cut it out."

Zoya came on deck into the scene of increasing agitation. Behind them the storm clouds were thickening, beginning to pile up on the horizon. The sea was beginning to roll beneath their feet with the promise of the squall to come. The captain was on the quarter deck, staring back at the approaching weather with a frown on his face. Gil didn't want to fight, but neither was he willing to allow himself to be embarrassed in font of his mates.

"I aint afraid of no fancy pants thief fondler," he blustered, "you wanna fight we will fight." The sailors cheered and they began to form a ring on the foredeck. The bosun tried to break it up but quickly gave it up as the excited sailors crowded him out. Coins clattered to the deck as bets were placed.

"No blades!" one of the older sailors shouted, then pulled to yard long belaying pins from the bulwark and tossed them to the deck between the putative combatants. Gil snatched up one of the belaying pins and slapped it into his palm.

"Going to back off if you cant use your fancy knives?" Gil taunted.

"Gentlemen!" Zoya tried to call, but the sailors shouted her down, keeping a tight shoulder to shoulder ring around the fighters.

"Best let it go," the Captain, suddenly at her shoulder advised her. "We need this over and done with fast so we can get men aloft to reef sail."

Davian had a sour look. He had not had a proper sword duel in months, and he yearned to feel the clatter of steel on steel. The pressure on his arm when he drove a point home. It sounded brutal when one said it outloud, but such was the way in his homeland. They dueled as easily and readily as breathing, but only when the opportunity truly called for it, at least to their eyes. Still, he was not against a match with fists. Davian was taller, likely stronger, and without a doubt more experienced than Gil, unless the unassuming rat of a man was secretly a warder or a hunched aielman.

Davian stripped off his tunic, and though his torso was not bare, the thin white linen starkly contrasted his sunkissed skin and black tousled hair. He rolled his sleeves up, revealing a burn on his left forearm, and the end of a small scar against his right elbow. Gil, seeing Davian was not intimidated, was a bit perturbed, but he stepped into the center of the deck anyway from the raucous laughter and comments from the other crewmen.

"Just hold your tongue and I'll let you walk away." Davian remarked, taking a practiced stance, fists held close to his body as he bent his legs.

"Don't insult me, stowaway!" Gil snarled, and it was as good a bell as any. Davian leaped forward, but feinted, using his long legs to dance back before he even bothered to swing. Gil swiped, but hit only air. Davian pivoted and leaped back into range before an eye could blink, and his fist connected with Gil's cheek. The man grunted and was stunned, but he didn't stumble. It was too quick and with little power. Davian's next fist did not have handicap, hitting Gil in the stomach like a sledgehammer. Gil doubled over, but sailors were nothing if not stubborn. He used the swinging of his upper torso to launch himself forward, trying to grapple with Davian. The thief-taker was caught, and the two went down in a cacophony of limbs and curses. Davian had to admit the seadog gave him a few good bruises, but within moments, the man from Ebou Dar had his arm around his neck. Davian squeezed, and it was only Zoya shouting his name that got him to let up, and it was then he realized the men had already been attempting to loosen the clamp that was his arm.

Gil was almost blue in the face, and he gasped for air like a man in the desert supping water. The Captain looked relieved, keeping Davian at bay with his hands on the thief-taker shoulders. Gil was helped to his feet, the scraggly sailor baring his teeth in frustration. He glared daggers at Davian, shoving his crewmates off of him. A few notable men did not aid him, watching with satisfied expressions as if they had been waiting for someone to make a fool of him.

"This isn't over!" Gil said, pointing at Davian with a fat finger. Above, the clouds roared with thunder, and distant flashes shimmered in the clouds. The men grumbled, eyeing him. Davian knew they, despite being his crew, they wanted him to accept the decision of the fight. A few started at Davian, as if to blame him for not losing like a decent landlubber. Gil stood apart from the rest, having pushed his fellows away to keep his dignity. He groaned, but at their looks, he acquiesced. "I'll hold my tongue, but the sooner you and that witch are off this boat, th-"

There was a clap, as if the creator himself had struck a cosmic anvil with a hammer the size of the world. Davian's sight went white, and then immediately dark. His ears rang, and for a moment he felt as if he was outside of the very wheel itself. But gradually, the world came back to him, and as the formeless floor and shapes of men began to grow more solid in his vision, he saw what had happened.

Gil was no more than a smoking ruin on the deck, having been struck by lightning.

The situation was rapidly deteriorating. Further conflict was temporarily averted as the Captain bellowed for all hands to get aloft and reef sail as he turned his ship more westerly to run before the storm. Glares and muttered imprecations were aimed at Zoya as the crew scurried up into the rigging. The wind on deck was now growing so strong that conversation was difficult, and the ship was heeling over and slicing through the waves, like a hobby horse, throwing up huge sprays of foam each time the bow hit the approaching swell. Davian and Zoya retreated below decks, a refuge from the spray if not the increasingly violent motion of the vessel.

"Did you do that?" Davian demanded, grim faced in the semi darkness below decks. No lights could be risked in such weather, not when a ship was made of so many tons of dried wood, pine tar, and other such incindieary materials. Zoya's nostrils flared with anger, the accusation akin to naming her a darkfriend. She mastered herself with obvious effort, reminding herself that the common folk were less familiar with the Oaths than the initiated.

"No." Zoya responded, distinctly and directly so as to give no wiggle room for Aes Sedai trickery. She wondered if one of the items she had taken from the Stone might have been indirectly responsible. She had made only cursory examination of the loot she had acquired. All had the feel of items of the power and one of them, the small figurine of a woman with a sword between her breasts wrought in what looked to be soap stone, was clearly an angreal, but the functions and powers of the others would take study and considerable risk to divine.

"That isn't going to stop me from being lynched by a bunch of woolheaded sailormen though," she cursed. The retreated to the small cabin where Zoya had been staying and she gathered up her little haul of items into a shoulder bag. The Captain had been willing to sell her basic provisions and she poured herself a half glass of sour resinous wine. The roll of the ship nearly sloshed the fluid over the edge of the mug and she gulped quickly to keep from spilling.

The sound of feet pounded on the planks outside and Davian threw himself across the doorway a second before horny fists began to pound on it.

"Come out here witch!"

"Throw her over the side!"

"She murdered Gil!"

Zoya grabbed a chair and thrust it against the door as a flimsy barricade, not that it would hold long against men with the heavy axes the crew used to cut away downed rigging.

"Do you have a plan?" Davian demanded. Zoya crossed her arms huffily.

"I am open to suggestions," she admitted tartly.

Davian threw himself against the door to help the chair, its frame already creaking. Luckily the shipwright had granted boat thick doors, but it wouldn't last forever. Davian was not a weak man, but he was leaner of frame than the burly sailors, and the only thing saving the chair and he was the fact only so many of them could pummel the door at once.

"These light blinded fools are going to try and kill us, I think." Davian remarked, more to himself than to the Aes Sedai. Zoya took another swill of her drink, and placed the skin back in her knapsack. She seemed deep in thought, and the dull sound of waves crashing against the ship was like a mirror to the men thrusting against the door.

"The wheel weaves as the wheel wills," She said imperiously, trying to remain calm. Davian was about to ask if she had gone crazy, but it dawned on him she was doing her best to remain calm as well. He was not ready for her second remark, though she muttered it under her breath. "I just wish the wheel had granted me a more diplomatic companion." Her tone grated on him, feeling underappreciated as the wood of the door bounced against his head from every shove and punch.

"Why are the pretty women always the most stuck-up!?" He remarked, and later he would marvel that he dare say that about an Aes Sedai of all people, and even Zoya seemed shocked. But at the moment he was out of patience and options. "Get your things, we're getting off this ship."

"Getting off?" She echoed incredulously, but when she saw his face, she knew he was about to pull something. She hastily grabbed her bag and tossed it over her shoulder, using one hand to tie her hair behind her to keep it out of her eyes. Davian saw her give a nod, as if she were a queen acquiescing to a request, and he let go of the door, hastily grabbing his things and strapping on his sword belt, before unsheathing his blade. The next two blows from outside snapped the chair, and after another strike, and a call for their blood, Davian suddenly opened the door for them.

Three sailors toppled in, their rage overcome by confusion for a moment. Davian kicked them in the head like he was striking a rabid dog, breaking noses and cheek bones, and like a whirl his sword was out, poking the handful of men that had just then decided to rush in. His sidesword drew blood with every cut and thrust, but he did his best not to kill anyone, or cause serious injury. Davian's swordwork was like watching a dancer and a surgeon all at once, precise and graceful. Before a handful of heartbeats were up, the men fell back, bloody and wounded, and Davian pulled Zoya forward by the hand, stepping over the fallen bodies into the corridor. Men scrambled away, and others lay moaning.

His blood up, the thief-taker hurried them to the stairs, where another sailor was coming down, likely to check on the noise. He was bigger than the rest, but before he could speak, he was blown out of the doorway by an unseen force. Davian only spared a glance at Zoya, before stepping out into the sun. The deck was relatively deserted, save three men maintaining the rigging, and Gil's burnt corpse. Where the captain was, Davian did not know. Likely below decks deciding what to do with them, not yet realizing they had already broken out.

"The longboats!" Davian told her, rushing to the aft and finding two of them, oars inside and held up by a myriad of ropes, causing them to swing lazily as the waves bucked beneath them. Davian cut two lines with three passes of his sword, and one of the longboats toppled into the sea, the ubiquitously placed ropes loudly zipping past and slapping into one another until they fell into the ocean with a small slap.

"Can you do what you did when we leaped out of the keep into the stables?" He asked her, and when she nodded he picked her up in his arms and leaped. It was clear she was entirely surprised at him doing so, but he found them slowing after a dozen feet, landing roughly into the longboat, his rump sore from the fall, but otherwise none the worse for wear. He glanced up, and found no immediate pursuit, but they would come to the side soon and likely throw or shoot whatever they had at them. He grabbed the oars and slunk them into the water, shoving against the aft of the ship so they drifted, before he began paddling.

"They aren't turning," Davian declared as the distance opened up between the ship and the rowboat. It slid up and down over the long rolling storm waves, tiny and insignificant against the majesty of the sea. Zoya gripped the gunnels on both sides, holding herself steady as they plunged down the face of one of the mighty waves. Ironically, she found this less unpleasant than the ship, having grown up on the shadow coast, hauling crab pots for her various uncles and relations until she had run away from home and began the long road that ultimately took her to Tar Valon.

"They can't, they'd be in irons if they tried, and they can't tack across the face of the wind, not with this swell," She explained, bracing herself as the nose of the boat plowed into the trough and began rising up the other side.

"Sure, whatever you say," Davian replied, pulling hard to keep the boat from turning side on and being swamped. Zoya closed her eyes and embraced Saidar, weaving a shell of air around them. The rain which had been pouring in began to patter on the shield, an extremely eerie effect as water struck nothing the naked eye could see. When they next crested the wave the ship had vanished behind a curtain of rain. Probably they were happy to be rid of their last minute guests.

"You can stop rowing," Zoya said, "We will be driven inland by the waves, and we wont capsize while the shield is in place." Davian reluctantly let go of the oars.

"So why did you?" Zoya asked in the oddly peaceful silence that followed.

"Why did I what?" Davian demanded.

"Why did you help me in the Stone?"

"A few reasons, I think." He admitted, trying to collect his thoughts after the chaos on the ship, and usage of the one power. Even during a moment of calm, he could recall it as if it were still happening. It was a strange thing, combat. When it happens, you don't think about it. But afterwards, it was all one could think about. But it was certainly not his first time bloodying men, even innocent ones, and he forced it away with a will. He brought his mind back to a week prior, in the chamber with the High Lords. Back to his decision.

"You weren't there, but when I met with them in the Stone..." He cleared his throat. "The High Lords. They were discussing you, before they caught word you were likely an Aes Sedai." Davian said, looking up at her, and then raising his head. "They decided then and there to execute you. That's not what I do, if I can help it. I catch those that deserve it, and it was clear to me they weren't killing you for stealing, they were killing you for what you were. I don't like Aes Sedai, particularly. Or trust them. Maybe one." He gave a tight lipped smile. "But you're no Darkfriends."

He rolled his head to loosen his shoulders, and placed a strong hand on his trapezius, massaging it firmly. "And, since we're both being honest, even then I wasn't going to help. But I heard a story teller in the tavern speak of a prophecy, concerning something about the Eye of the World, and the Lost One. Great Serpent and Sightburner. I'd only heard of the Eye of the World before, but it made me think more of you in that cell, and I realized I had put you there. So I went and helped before I convinced myself not to. Was probably the drink."

A poor excuse, but he wanted to lighten the mood. He chuckled, giving a nonchalant shrug. "Might have made a mistake, seeing as I would likely be dining on a fine roast with some good music, maybe some drink, about now. A heavy purse in my lap. Lady Alteima owing me a favor, besides. But the wheel weaves as it wills, and here we are."

Land was in sight now, but it was still a slim line in the distance. One could squint and lose it in the vast blue of the sea.

"Isn’t there something you can do?" Davian demanded as the boat rode the waves towards the shore. The Thiefcatcher strained at the oars, trying to keep the craft pointed into the increasingly violent swell. Zoya gripped the tiller bar, using her slight weight to steer against it. The water shoaled rapidly, and white caps frothed around the boat's prow.

"I could perhaps calm the storm, but I can’t hold back the sea," Zoya responded. It was a boast, and even with her angreal, it would have taken days. The One Power couldn't solve every problem, no matter how much one wished.

"Just try to keep the bow facing the shore," Zoya instructed, her control wavering as each swell lifted the tiller from the surf. They rode the waves, rising and plunging as white caps gave way. Without her shield of air, they would have been awash already.

"What do you think I’ve been trying to—" Davian began, cut off by a sudden crash as a submerged rock smashed into the hull, splintering the bow timbers. Sea water surged through in white foam. Zoya was thrown from her seat, crashing into Davian and knocking him into the flooding prow. Before they could disentangle, the next wave lifted the wrecked boat's rear and flipped it over the rock. Zoya screamed as the gunwale struck her, driving her into the surf. The storm's roar was suddenly muted as she was thrust beneath the surface. She gasped for air as the wave carried the boat clear, seeing no sign of Davian through the rain and surf. She called his name once, her voice lost to the wind, then struck out for shore with powerful strokes.

Thank the Light there was a beach, Zoya thought, hauling herself dripping onto dry land. Breathing hard, she turned to the storm, feeling the shift in perspective now that she was safe. Movement to her right startled her, and she turned, embracing the Source, only to find Davian staggering towards her, soaked but alive.

"You’re hurt," he said as rain lashed his handsome face. Zoya stared at him, then followed his gaze to the blood running down her arm, diluted and pink. She pushed back her sleeve to reveal a pressure cut near her shoulder, already swelling with an impressive bruise.

"No matter," she replied, dismissing the injury for now. These Southern Kingdoms were warm, relatively, but the sea and wind had chilled them to the bone.

"We need to find shelter," she suggested, gesturing up the beach where lantana whipped wildly in the wind. They staggered up the beach together to sparse brush.

"Here!" Davian called, pointing to an ancient, half-decayed boat upturned in the sand. It had likely been a skiff long ago, its masts gone, overturned either by survivors or a monstrous tide. Zoya wove a ward that sent rats and spiders scattering, then crawled under the hull's curve. Relief from wind and rain was immediate. Zoya sighed, removing a puzzle box from her waist pouch. None of her treasures had been lost; thank the Light for that. The thought of her ter’angreal at the ocean's bottom sent a shiver down her spine, even more than her own death.

"You're not cold?" Davian asked, hunching into his sodden garments. Zoya looked up, surprised. Ignoring heat and cold was an old Aes Sedai trick, part of their meditation on the Source. Consciously, she felt the chill and numbness. Reaching out with the Power, she wove fine filaments of fire over an exposed rock, which radiated heat.

"You are handy—" Davian started, jumping back as Zoya's eyes rolled back until only whites showed. The puzzle box jerked from her hands, hovering before Davian. Its facets twisted, greasy, before clicking open like a flower. Light poured in a solid column, then split into a three-dimensional map from coast to inland. Davian peered, following the strange vision to a northern grasslands chasm. Abruptly, the image vanished, the puzzle box closing into a solid cube. Zoya, held still throughout, sighed and slumped unconscious, the warmth fading from the stones.

Davian had cursed with 'Dark One's own luck!,' more than a bit wary of the strange devices the Aes Sedai was using. After Zoya had fallen unconscious, he tried to gently wake her, but to no avail. Instead, he took the heavy cloth she had used to carry all of her stolen items and poured them out into a neat pile in the sand, before propping the Aes Sedai up and wrapping her with the cloth to keep her warm. The next twenty minutes were far less pleasant, as Davian led a sortee into the wind and rain, wading into the light collection of trees past the sand and finding the driest bits of wood and foliage he could, and gathering all manner of stones, besides.

He got lucky once, chancing a look at a strange shape in the sand, and plucking an unbroken cup out of the beach. It was of Tairen make, which he supposed made some sense. He cleaned it best he could with the rain water, and then let it sit just outside of the small derelict ship Zoya was now slumbering under.

Another twenty minutes later, and Davian had begun a small fire near the aft, ensconced in stones and shielded from the rain as best it could be. A few drops of the rain found their way through the creases in the mottled wood, but overall it was a workable structure. Davian was freezing, but gradually he began to warm from the flames. His stomach gurgled from lack of food, but he was not starving yet. Every so often his eyes would gradually slide back to Zoya, and he wondered what pattern in the wheel had placed he and the Aes Sedai together.

Light, I'm already thinking about traveling with her. If I were smart I would wait until the rain abated and then simply leave. But he knew he was not going to do that. Eventually, he found a comfortable position, using his dried jacket as a place to rest his head as he decided to get an hour or two of sleep, the flames now all but embers. When she awoke, he was going to want to know what exactly all of these items were for, and it was his last thought before he drifted into a fitful slumber.

Zoya awoke from disquieting dreams to the smell of wood smoke and cooking fish. The aroma was so reminiscent of her childhood home that she sat up in a panic, half convinced the intervening years had been a dream. Reality reasserted itself as she banged her head on an overhead beam, dislodging a fine mist of old wood rot that drifted down like snow. A chuckle came from the direction of a small fire where Davian sat turning three long stakes over a small fire. The harsh red illumination of the blaze gave him a sinister look.

“You’re finally awake,” he commented, lifting on of the stakes from the flames to examine a fillet of meat on the end. Evidently it didn’t yet pass muster because he set it back across the flame. Zoya cocked her head, rain still pattered on the outside of the hull but the fury of the storm had ebbed to a gentle rain. Judging by the pale light coming from outside, she had slept for nearly an entire day. She rubbed her head with the heel of her hand, massaging away an incipient bruise.

“Did I pass out?” she asked, her voice rising as she realized that she had lost consciousness while channeling. She instinctively snatched for Saidar and let out gasp of relief as its warm light suffused her for a moment. It was every Aes Sedai’s secret terror that they might burn themselves out in a moment of incaution and be forever severed from the Source. Davian arched an eyebrow at the play of emotions he saw flicker across her face but answered her question.

“You did something to the box,” he explained, nodding to the ancient relic that lay beside the wadded up and mostly dry cloak that had served as her pillow.

“It opened and I saw….a vision? a map?” he replied, sounding troubled. Zoya sat upright, immediately alert and alight with enthusiasm.

“What did you see!? How was the box set? What do you mean a map?” she demanded.

“Whoa,” Davian replied in the same tone one might use to quiet a suddenly skittish horse. He took the fish from the fire and explained what he had seen, answering her questions as best he could. Zoya lifted the box and tried to mimic the same fire weave she had woven the night before. Nothing happened. She tried several more combinations but the box remained stubbornly unresponsive.

“Maybe eat before you make yourself pass out again?” Davian suggested pointedly. From his perspective she was merely staring at the box but he was clever enough to intuit that she was using the Power. Zoya set the box down and took the fish that was offered, taking a bite of the hot flesh.

“And you are sure this map started here?” she asked around a mouthful of fish. Davian nodded.

“It was as though they viewpoint swooped down on us from a great height, then moved away as I described,” Davian replied.

“A Light Saddle?” Zoya pondered.

“A what?” Davian asked, chewing his own fish.

“Some writings from the Age of Legends speak of something called a Light Saddle, or a S’talia’ite in the Old Tongue. We think they were ter’angreal which the Aes Sedai of old used to cast their vision across the Earth, maybe to predict the future. There are only a few references, some even seem to suggest they might have controlled the weather somehow,” she explained. Suddenly she wished she were back in Tar Valon where she could avail herself of the library.

“I wish I could have seen it,” she said, a tinge of longing in her voice. It seemed monumentally unfair that a vision from a past age had been granted and the only one to glimpse it was a smarmy thief catcher. Unless of course only men could see it. Unless of course only Davian could see it. Had he become attuned to the box somehow? Was it connected to the lightning strike? Her mind spun out in a spider web of supposition that she lacked the data to substantiate. First thing first. She needed to control her variables.

“I suppose it is safe to say that your contract with the High Lords of Tear is at an end?” she asked carefully.

“I’ll say,” Davian said with a snicker. Being hounded out of the city by the Defenders of the Stone was not exactly a highpoint, but Davian could truthfully say that he had found and apprehended the thief. His professional honor was intact, even if the incident was unlikely to bring him many future clients.

“Well in that case, I’d like to retain your services,” she told him. Davian’s eyebrow rose.

“You mean to…”

“To recover a certain Horn which I believe to have been stolen,” she concluded.

Now that he had received a modicum of rest and the smallest bit of food, his mind could wander back to other things with more substance, such as pretty women and the one power. He preferred the former to the latter, but in Zoya's case, she was evidently a package deal. And his attention was more focused on the memory of the map than her at that moment, the intricacies of the undulating hills and sweeping breadth of trees, before arriving at the grassland that apparently had some Aes Sedai significance.

And the bloody Horn of Valere had something to do with it! He knew his teacher would have told him to toss the idea away. A fool's errand paid no dues, he had once said. And he had yet to be paid by the High Lords, not that he expected that payment anymore. It was not a smart decision, getting caught up in Aes Sedai schemes on a trek that led dark-one-knew-where.

But he was intrigued, nonetheless. And Tar Valon was not short of funds.

"I'll consider it," He said neutrally. She looked at him as if she could see right past his facade, and as far as he knew, she just might have that ability.

"You would be paid well," She remarked teasingly. "And you did save my life, and heroically helped us escape the ship. An Aes Sedai never forgets a friend."

He hesitated for a moment, considering. His thoughts drifted back to the boat, where she and he had decided to be honest with one another, no tricks and no foul play. He was used to being honest with rich employers and less than lenient with those who had but the promise of payment, but considering she was an Aes Sedai, and she was admittedly growing on him, he could speak plainly.

"I don't want to be involved with anything to do with the one power." He declared, letting the words hang in the air. "If you were an aristocrat I would serve you well to win your favor, if you were a local girl I would dance with you and maybe steal a kiss, if you were an illainer I wouldn't hold it against you, but you're an Aes Sedai. I don't know what to do with that but... if you give me your word you intend to treat and pay me fairly by the completion of this task, I won't fail in it. I have nothing else to do, save find a nice bed and have a bath, if I can."

He held his hand out for her to take, his sculpted nose casting a shadow across his lips from the filtered light that bounced off the top of the upturned ship. His eyes twinkled.

Zoya reached out a hand and shook on the deal. Davin arched an eyebrow out her demonstrating that he knew that it was only her word which carried weight and not a handshake. For much of the White Tower's existence there had been no Oaths, they had been adopted to help calm the fears of the populace but it seemed to many Aes Sedai that they did more harm than good.

"I swear that I will treat and pay you fairly," Zoya amplified and was annoyed to see a look of relief cross the Thieftakers face.

"Excellent, well now that you are paying, what is the first order of business?"

____________

The rain had stopped as they exited the wreck of the ancient ship though the sky skill scudded with grey cloud. They were on a large tidal plain, shallow pools of water intercut with deeper channels and raised sandbanks. Zoya immediately saw that Davain had used driftwood to construct simple fish weirs in the deeper streams. Several silvery forms were trapped within by the ebbing tide. The Thieftaker took a long sharp stick and began neatly spearing them. Zoya let her eyes track over the salt flat. Judging from the pale greenery the tidal flat gave way to salt marsh a mile or so from the beach. From what the maps said, there was little of value and few settlements in this desolate region.

"Too bad we dont have anyway to ..." Davian began. The fish seemed to come apart into strips, and then the strips shriveled as the moisture was sucked from the fillets. "Dry them," He concluded. Davian wrapped the dried fish in some parchment from his pack and tucked it away.

"Well you saw the vision from the Saddle Light," Zoya suggested, "any idea which way we should head?"