Lysabel smiled at Markus. It was a considered, practiced smile. Every initiate who gained the Shawl had long since come to appreciate the value of Aes Sedai mystique. She sat a fine gray mare of the stock Jaramide was famous for. Even laden down as it was with saddle bags and packs it all but frisked with energy and enthusiasm. Lysabel was dressed for travel in a white riding gown and wore a waterproof cloak of fine gray leather.  The prince had been dismayed when she informed him that she was leaving and more dismayed when she had been evasive on her reasons, citing only unspecified Aes Sedai business. She wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t been forthcoming with him, perhaps because the reasons for her own interest seemed tenuous or perhaps it was because the Prince himself seemed in a mood. The campaign against the bandits in the south promised to draw the public’s interest away from his voyage for a time, though he assured her it would be over quickly once real soldiers got involved. Fortunately he had been more than willing to provide her with a fine horse and the service of one of his Outriders, especially if it meant her returning quickly to continue her work on navigation. The rationale behind the particular outrider she had picked was a little more convoluted. Markus had already ridden over the terrain they would need to cover, had survived where others had perished, and had been clever enough to find the arm, recognise it for what it was and bring it to her. Privately she had to admit that requesting him also gave her a certain amount of satisfaction as a repayment for his brusque if not exactly rude behavior.

 

“Unfortunately, he is already heading south,” Lysabel admitted. She had tried to prevail upon the ogier to join them but he had already been long away from the Stedding and was eager to be home. Lysabel suspected that having a severed trolloc arm dropped on the table during tea had not improved her odds of convincing him either.

 

“He did draw this for us,” she explained, producing a parchment map. It was in the ogier script, though it had several large towns marked in charcoal with their common names printed beneath them.

“It should get us close to the waygate, I am hopeful that the locals will be familiar with these white hills he told us about.” She handed him the map.

“I will rely on your local knowledge to find us the most efficacious route,” she told him, “If there are any supplies we need, we can pick them up before we leave.”


[@POOHEAD189]