CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A thin crowd was forming out among Serenda Street, most of them military personnel and curious residents. The window of our base had quite a killer view onto the boulevard. This house belonged to a family of Seanchan corroborators , somewhat known for reporting their neighbors for "insurrectory" actions. We "persuaded" the family to disappear, and I doubt the neighbors would shed a tear.

But we would not be doing our killing here. I leaned out the window, smiling lazily at the crowd gathering. Across the street farther up the road in a one-windowed Inn room, Kay was waiting with his crossbow. We had originally planned for him to be on a rooftop, but there were currently workmen across the street from us fixing rafters. He was our best shot, but there was a crossbow in here in case he missed. Kay never misses.

"Thirty minutes until the General hits the strike point. Positions on the street, Bandar Eban and Shol Arbela." Map nods.

I draped the dark brown robe over my Sabre armor, and dumped my helm inside my knapsack. If anything went wrong, I would be the only one engaged in martial battle. I was the last resort if all else failed.

Lore and I trooped downstairs to the street, and headed northwards down Serenda. The General should now have entered the North Gate with his retinue, heading down with military pomp towards the Fortress of Light. Lore and I were to make sight conformation and provide the ground zero support.

We linked arms like a good couple and strolled towards our position farther out from Kay's nest. There were a few off-duty Seanchan conscripts beside us, but nothing that I couldn't surpass if I needed to.

"Anything?" I asked Lore.

She shook her hand, "I see nothing yet."

I simply nodded and waited patiently. If she saw anything, she would squeeze my arms. I peered towards the north and caught sight of the General's group moving towards us. Several mounted officers lead the way, followed by three pairs of damane and suldam. Then a large, armored figure with elaborate plumes on his helm and a smaller second-in-command beside him. Last came a noble's covered platform carried on the back of four slaves, and a pair of hulking creatures in black armor.

"Gardeners." Lore pulled close and murmured in my ear. I wondered what kind of plants these gardners tended. Probably nothing seen this side of the Aryth.

Something about their appearance troubled me, although Lore had not squeezed my arm yet. Nothing to worry about. Yet. But, I wondered what it was that bothered me.

The General gazed back and forth, eyes studying the crowd from within his elaborate insectoid helm. But, I was more worried about the damane before him. The greatest trouble would most likely come from then.

"Why is he wearing a helm here?" I pondered. "I thought there wasn't much rebel activity here."

Lore too nodded at this, "Should we call it off?"

"No. We've come so far." I watched the General's approach carefully. Even his helm should not protect him from a crossbow bolt. I narrowed my eyes. He was almost upon us, riding upon quite a magnificent gray gelding, talking easily towards his advisor.

Then Lore squeezed my arm urgently. She squeezed again hard, and we were retreating as casually as we could.

"It's not him." She hissed. "Abort now."

A black blur, faster than the eye, slammed into the General's faceguard, through his eyepiece. Suddenly the crowd was in an uproar, as his guards rushed to form a circle around him. His advisor reached out to catch the general as he toppled off his horse, his blood-soaked helmet rolled through the dirt.

But by then, we were already running into the backstreets towards the base.

"That's not Galgan." Lore whistled through her teeth as she ran. "Same body shape, but face is completely different."

"Damnit." I cursed.

We were within sight of the building that housed our field command, when Lore snapped me back. "No! Channeling up there. Behind us too. It's a trap. We have to run now."

We immediately ditched our effort and stomped into a different alleyway. A trap? Channelers? I tightened my hand around my sword-hilt. It was too narrow here for the Reaper.

"DUCK!" Lore screamed, and I did without a second thought. I did not see anything, but felt an invisible touch graze me as I rolled to the damp floor. Seanchan soldiers were pouring in all around us, but my eyes met that of Dokon and two of their channeling pairs.

My sword was halfway out my sheath before I was suddenly pinned by invisible bonds, and Lore struggled too beside me. We were slowly raised until we hovered a few inches from the air, our clothes pinned against us.

"How did you-?" Dokon strolled forward, eyes burning into me than turning to Lore. "Ah, it is all clear now. She is a marath'damane, isn't she?" His eyes narrowed almost to slits. "But wait, she didn't put up a struggle, and from what I have studied of you, you are not any more tolerant of those kind than us. Ah, I know military minds. She is your counter, isn't she. One that cannot use it, but one that can see it. Of course. Not much of a counter."

It was true. Lore was one of our dirty little secrets. She had the Spark, one that could learn the One Power and could see the weaving. But could not manifest even the tiniest weave. Yet, that potential still made her our most dangerous member. Only two people besides the Sabre knew her abilities, both of which were now dead.

I gritted my teeth and returned his gaze with my own. I spoke nothing and gave away nothing on my face. Lore hung silently beside me. My neck was frozen tight, but I glanced about for some desperate measure to escape.

He favored me with a fond smile. "I welcome both of you to the generous custody of the Seanchan Empire."

As he chuckled, a heavy blow found the back of my head, and his smug face dissolved into darkness.