WOT Adv 151

--- The Wheel Turns ---
As they ate, Maer pondered what Megda had been said. The Dragon. He had seen that same serpentine shape on the banner before; he had seen it on Clan chiefs when they had returned from Rhuidean. They were so marked on one forearm with a very similar shape. Yet those that rode with the banner didn't contain one Aiel fighter among them. He chewed his food in silence. Perhaps Maeslyn or the Wise One Megda would know what it meant.

When dinner had ended and all but Megda and Maeslyn remained seated at the table speaking together in low tones, Maer lingered and approached. "Wise Ones, if I may, I would like a word."

"Certainly Maer," Maeslyn nodded. "What do you need?"

Maer's dark blue eyes shifted from face to face. "Those armies were lead by a banner carrying the symbol of a dragon. Do you know what this means?"

"Maybe," Megda said, taking a sip of wine and shifting in her chair to look at the Aiel warrior. "That banner had embroidered on it the device of a serpentine creature that proclaims the bearer as 'The Dragon'. I believe this to mean that the Dragon may be reborn and will soon manifest himself, or already has."

"You speak of this 'Dragon'. We are sometimes called the people of the Dragon. Do you know that the clan chiefs of our people wear the symbol of the dragon on their arms?"

Megda's eyes narrowed and she studied Maer's face for several heartbeats. "I did not know that. That is... interesting." She set her wine down, leaned back in her chair, and looked at Maer as if considering something new and enlightening. "There is..." she paused and tapped her lip lightly with a slender finger, "Ah yes...", she leaned forward, "There is something in the Karaethon Cycle, also known as The Prophesies of the Dragon, in the Tower library that mentions something about the 'People of the Dragon', but I am not a Brown and without access to those books, I cannot remember exactly what was said. I am sorry, Maer."

"What of that boy fighting in the sky - who is he? Did he lead the armies that crushed the invaders? Was that his banner? If so, would he be the Dragon Reborn? Would we be his people? Will he bear the symbol of the Dragon on his arms?"

"So many questions and we are many miles from the Tower library." Megda replied again and sighed, looking wistfully out the window. "I did not see the boy, so I can't comment much on him or the vision that you all saw. I do not know who he is. It's possible he is the Dragon Reborn, or perhaps a prophet for the Dragon. Who can say? All I know is I saw the banner of the Dragon. That much I do know. It bore that unique serpentine symbol. Unfortunately, I did not get a good look at the host with the banner, and I don't know who they were. There were only a few of them," she shook her head, "perhaps a couple of hundred. Maybe the Aiel are the 'People of the Dragon', but perhaps not. It would seem likely that these few warriors that destroyed an entire Seanchan host might be the Dragon's people." she paused and took a sip of her wine. "Now regarding this boy bearing the symbol of the Dragon on his arms... I don't know. Again, I have vague notions of something in the Kareathon Cycle that discusses him being marked, but I don't have the details."

Maer looked to Maeslyn as if expecting more information. She merely shrugged and tilted her head. "I'm afraid we aren't of much help, Maer. Perhaps if we were at the Tower library we would have more specific information."

Realizing no more information was forthcoming, Maer stood and inclined his head slightly. "I thank you Wise Ones. I shall think upon your words." With that he left the private dining area, strode through the now empty commons room, past the kitchens were the maids were elbow deep in wash water, taking a tongue-lashing from Master Rovick, and out into the stableyard.

The night was crisp and partly cloudy. But it was bright with thousands of tiny pinpricks of light. Maer studied the stars and pondered the Wise One's words for several long moments as he paced back and forth in the courtyard.

He had come across the Dragonwall, threaded his way through the lands of the wetlanders, had ridden horses, fought oversized bears with three eyes, had helped liberate a town, had ridden a flying beast of prey, and had watched good men hewn down by lizards larger than any two of the oxen the Jenn'Aiel used to pull their brightly-colored wagons.

And now he had seen a boy, larger than life, fighting ... some dire, flame-faced foe in the skies above Falme. He had seen men, riding horses, following a banner wielding a serpentine shape identical to the those he had seen on the clan chiefs' upraised arms when they made their way out of Rhuidean. And they had been fighting the invaders, the same as he.

Who was this boy? Was he the ...Dragon Reborn..., as the wetlanders called him? Was he to be the carn'a'carn of the clan chiefs? Would he be the one who would break his own people, the people of the Dragon? Would it be better to serve the carn'a'carn, to be broken, and yet live, or would it be better to destroy the would-be carn'a'carn, and thus make it impossible for the People to "fail" him and be destroyed? Or would killing him constitute failure?

Maer sighed in frustration as the bunches of clouds meshed together, covering the faint light of the stars. So many unanswered questions. He went inside and spoke to Master Rovick.

"I would like a private room with a fireplace and a hearth for the evening, Roofmaster" Maer told the innkeeper.

"Ah, well... you see there is the little matter of all the rooms being filled and--"

"I need the room." Maer stared at the man with his cold dark eyes and even unconsciously went into a stance on the balls of his feet, ready to launch in any direction, taut as a bow-string.

"Uh..." Rovick gulped loudly, taking a step backwards and looking wildly about. Large beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. "Well... yes. Very well, you can have my room, sir. 10 silver marks extra a night, sir!"

Maer nodded and dropped the coins into the large man's trembling hands.

---

Nearly an hour later, Maer had constructed a small, makeshift sweat lodge in Master Rovick's room. Several large stones radiated heat from the hearth and Maer would throw water upon them creating large clouds of steam. He had undressed to his small clothes and relaxed, letting the wet heat sweat away his stress, and knotted muscles. Letting it carry away his mind.

For several long hours he meditated upon his quest for the carn'a'carn. Again and again, his mind was taken back to the young boy who wielded a sword. How could he follow a man who wielded such an abomination? How could such a man be the carn'a'carn? The Dragon Reborn? The carn'a'carn? Were they the same? The boy was clearly a wetlander. But he was tall... tall as an Aiel. In fact, now that Maer thought about it, his face, his gray eyes, they were... well, they were very similar to the Aiel. Strange that he hadn't noticed that before. Perhaps he had looked more at the sword than the boy himself. But how could such a thing be? This boy, this man, he was a wetlander. Everything about him proclaimed him as such. Yet... he had a face and a build from the three fold land. He shook his head and sighed. No answers were coming. Perhaps the morning would bring new answers.

After Maer finished meditating, he took the lock of Thenlir's hair from his belt bouch and reverently burned it as on offering to speed the large warrior's journey along the Wheel. He thought of the large warrior and his many contributions. While large, uncouth, and brash, he had also been a skilled and fearless warrior who Maer had been pleased to fight beside. Perhaps in some future age they would meet again.

---

Early the next morning Megda and Maynard left. Their farewells were brief. Maynard bowed politely to the women and shook Fiznak's and Maer's hand in turn, clapping them both on the shoulder firmly as he did so. Megda also said polite farewells and was sincere in her praise and thanks for her freedom. Maynard assited Megda onto a mottled mare who snorted and blew steam our her nostrils.

Maynard smiled at them as he mounted his own horse, a large bay stallion. "I shall miss such valiant friends. I am in your debt, I'm afraid. You have freed me from the clutches of Lord Timak and after helping me rescue Megda Sedai, you later saved my life on yonder battlefield." At this last he looked at Maeslyn and gave her a warm smile. "You have my thanks. Until we meet again." He held up his hand in farewell and then they trotted away until the winding city streets took them out of sight.

"I think I'll miss him," Keb sighed. "Oh, you have much larger muscles, Fizzy, don't worry."

Fiznak looked about embarrased for a moment, especially when he noticed all three women sizing him up.
"But he certainly could wield a blade!" Keb continued and looked wistfully down the street for a few moments longer. "And such a handsome face too..." She gave a another melodramatic sigh and then laughed.

Eliesanna gave her a knowing glance but her gaze lingered on Fiznak who uncomfortably cleared his throat at the attention. "Uh, so, what now?"

"My task is done," Maeslyn said, wrapping her blue cloak around her slender shoulder to ward off the chill. "I will leave Falme on the morrow and return to Nadira Sedai in Tanchico." Maeslyn smiled. "Those who wish their portion of her reward are, of course, most welcome to accompany me."

Keb grinned and jingled her already considerable pouch. "Light! I'm in! If I remember what Nadira Sedai said that's fifty golden crowns a piece! After I get my share of the reward, I'm up for hire again."

Maeslyn's smile turned to a near grimace. "Very well, Keb. What of you others?"