Participants: Jaice, Maeve

Background: Events since arriving in Cairhien had been anything but ordinary... first the odd events in Tar Valon, then being pulled through a ter'angreal to Cairhien, unexpectedly running into Celebril under uncanny timing, then the whole issue with the making of ter'angreal and the endless attention from the Nobles. Jaice was beginning to feel like a rat in a maze, and found herself longing for the quiet, clean life aboard ship, or even the halls of the Tower. Anything must be more normal than this. But that was not to be, for the Pattern was to make Jaice's life even more harried...

Setting: The Streets of Cairhien

"Unless the blasted weather makes my headache even worse and my skull finally splits in half when I try to concentrate," Maeve replies dryly, casting a momentary glance up at the overcast sky. "You don't need much of a weather sense to tell you that it will bring more rain, and not in a too far away future either." Red lips purse in a thoughtful manner and a lock of auburn hair fall into her eyes, brushed loose by the painted fan of silk she carries in her left hand and makes constant use of. "But, you're right... It has to be close, the patterns are alike, as far as I can tell." She falls silent again, likely considering what might happen if they aren't perfectly similar.

"Still that headache?" Jaice studies you a moment, her voice soft and barely heard. "As you know, I do not have the Healing talent, but I can manage some, and I have had the class. Would you like me to try?"

"I try too hard, that's all really. As if I am poking my head into that wood, to see every change." A wry smile, and Maeve shrugs slightly, though she does slow her stride, considering the offer. "It will clear up when we walk, I believe. If not, I'll gladly accept a nudge in the right direction when we have to get back to work." Grey eyes drift away from you, brushing over your surroundings, and her smile grows rather more bright. "For now, let us see a bit more of Cairhien apart from dark alleys and dusty attics."

"I have seen quite a bit of it," Jaice says, simply nodding at your reply to her offer. "But at the time I was more concerned with finding you than with remembering my surroundings. The Feast is long over, now; perhaps we'll be able to see parts of the city we'd have missed earlier for the revelry." Something in her tone, despite her expressionless features, tells you she was not terribly impressed with the Feast.

"All that rain... and all that wine, it didn't make for the best kind of exploring." Giving her head a light toss to clear an errant lock of hair out of her eyes, Maeve then nods in the direction of the palace, its towers visible even from here. "That way perhaps? Not that I have any desire to stroll about in some gardens, " she chuckles dryly, recalling the conversation at the dinner some days ago, "But even so, it might prove quieter than the outskirts of the city."

"I would see it all," Jaice says in a rare, wistful voice, "... except that we haven't the time. I don't suppose the Tower will be far off, now." Slightly too loud, Jaice. A few passers-by glance over at the pair as they walk idly down the street, but your Atha'an Miere friend doesn't seem to notice. "Let's go where our feet lead us. I am not in the mood for planning today."

Your words seem to cast a dark shadow over the two of you, and Maeve's smile fades, her lips setting in a tight and thin line for a moment. "You're right. At least we're almost done..." She lets her voice trail off on purpose, steering slowed strides southwards, for the time being caught up in whatever thoughts might fill her mind now.

The two women wander idly through the city streets.

Jaice continues the conversation in low, muted tones, keeping an eye out for avoiding the crowds as she goes. In this district a few inns and upscale taverns dot the streets, interspersed with merchant's houses and vendors' stalls. Jaice studies the wares boredly as she passes them, but her attention remains primarily on your words. "We can't worry about it if they arrive before we're done. We cannot bail the ship before it's sinking; and what will be, will be, if it pleases the Light."

Silent for a little longer, Maeve tirelessly fans herself as you wind your way through the afternoon crowds, finally muttering more to herself than anything. "It would please _me_ if this heat didn't continue, it makes a person wish clothes weren't necessary." A faint snort, and she glances at you. "The Cairhienins would not appreciate that, I fear." Not quite a joke, merely an attempt at making conversation, forgetting about what might be waiting around the next corner. "But, second best choice will have to do. How about stopping for something cool?" She nods her head in the direction of a nearby tavern.

Jaice's pale eyes take in the tavern's door as you gesture, and her course begins to weave through the crowd toward it. "The shade will be a welcome change too," she says. "This sticky heat is another reason I do not appreciate long skirts." Evidently she has not yet learned the Aes Sedai technique for appearing cool no matter what the weather. As the two of you emerge into the cool darkness of the common room, Jaice pauses inside the door to allow her eyes to adjust to the light, then picks her way between the tables to one at the far wall. No matter what she might say about dresses, you notice she has certainly learned to wear one; and the glances you both attract tell you easily that the crowd doesn't quite know what to make of you.

A skimpy little barmaid in a bright dress of violet scurries up, her dark curls bouncing as she talks. Her voice holds a high-pitched nasal quality, though she's got the kind of energetic exuberance that makes most people -- especially men -- want to smile at her. With her newest guests she hesitates just a second longer, sizing up Maeve's garb and Jaice's exotic looks and tattoos with an eye used to appraising her clients. "Welcome to the Leaning Ladder tavern M'ladies," she chirrups. "Come in to get away from the heat today? They all have you know. Busy day for us here! I see you're new in town. We've got a nice Cairhienin drink we recommend to all our guests, just enough to take the edge off, you know?"

Capturing the attention of a passing man, a lower noble judging from the lone pair of stripes on his coat, with a playful smile -- second nature to her and hardly indicative of her mood, for she seems to promptly dismiss him from her thoughts as well -- Maeve pulls a chair out and seats herself across from you. "There is little you can wear in pressing heat like this which wont cling like you'd been surprised by a sudden shower." She turns to the barmaid then, lips faintly pursed as she considers the suggestion, "If it is cool, it will do quite well. That is, if it isn't something blended of the leftovers to conceal the taste."

Jaice takes a moment to study the room's occupants before answering the barmaid, and her eyes drift lazily about until they rest on the sign over the bar. Identical to the one unnoticed outside, it shows an extremely tall ladder leaning against a Cairhienin Tower, clouds in the background signifying how very tall the tower had been built. Two Ogier have been painted atop the ladder, busily working to make the tower higher still. "What did you call this place?" Is it your imagination, or is Jaice's blue gaze particularly intent on the serving girl?

"The Leaning Ladder," the now perplexed serving girl answers, her hands clasped around one another. "Named after the building of our Towers, you know miss. Shall I get those drinks for you then?" A brisk nod from Jaice sends the girl scurrying off in a hurry.

Slender brows arch faintly, as Maeve settles back in her seat and that ever-curious grey and silvery gaze flicks between you and the barmaid, not too obviously interested for a stranger -- but certaintly for you. It goes to the sign for a moment as well, studying it while she flicks the fan together, letting it disappear into some clevery concealed pocket in her skirt. "The Leaning Ladder? Curious name, but perhaps not here, with the towers and all. " Drifting off into some thoughts of her own about the topless towers of Cairhien, she nevertheless keeps an eye on you.

Some kind of suspicion has crept into your friend's eyes, and she lowers her voice as the barmaid scurries out of earshot. "I do not know that it is anything," Jaice says cautiously. Her gaze now seems to be studying the other side of the street out the windows as she speaks to you. Impossible, surely impossible! "But... do you remember what I told you about Tar Valon, and the episodes of bad luck there? Perhaps they have it solved, perhaps not -- but Trelaine had a fortelling, do you remember? I did not remember much of it; I still do not. But she said a Ter'angreal gripped the city, and she said something about a solution found, and a leaning ladder, in a place of the sun. Now ladders are commonplace, particularly here -- but... perhaps..." As her voice trails off, her fingers spread as though offering possibilities.

"A leaning ladder... in a place of the sun," Maeve quietly repeats, having leaned forward to support her elbows in a less than lady-like manner on the table, and her chin in her hands. As if that pose wasn't enough, there's a light in her eyes which you recognize by now, which tell you without a doubt that this has more than piqued her curiosity. "Jaice, it _could_ be what you think... it really could." Grey eyes flick over the room again, settling once morfe upon the sign. "So far we've stumbled along, one odd coincidence after another. Does not this seem to fit right in? Of course, what it really means..." Seeing the barmaid return with your orders, she lets her voice trail off as she slips her fingers into a purse at her belt, fishing out the coints to pay with.

Jaice shakes her head, and waits until the barmaid leaves again before she continues. "I do not remember it all. Light, if I had only paid better attention!" Her brows furrow as she studies the table top, puzzling over what she remembers. "A solution found... leaning ladder... hrm. There was something about 'found by one of the Tower and one not' and..." She squeezes her eyes shut, replaying that incident over in her mind, that night after the free day, the same day the accidents started happening, the same moment when Trelaine stumbled down the stairs only to say... what? She shakes her head. "Something about two becoming one, but I do not remember more. But it was 'across from a leaning ladder'. That much I know."

Jaice adds, "Celebril might remember. He was there too." Still, her eyes are studying the buildings across the street.

Some of your frustration seems to spill over onto Maeve, easily done considering that little is needed to for her to grow impatient. "Foretellings... now that is something to give you an headache," she mutters in reply, reaching out for her drink to take a healthy sip from it, slender fingers cradling the glass firmly. "The accidents were caused by a ter'angreal, yes? But you know nothing of how it works?" Trying to restrain herself, she attempts to dissect the problem in a logical manner, but it does little good with something as illogical as a Foretelling. "I don't see us finding a way of fixing a ter'angreal in here, but..." She frowns, leaning back in her seat again. "We should ask Celebril I guess... but if he does not recall either. You think Tar Valon is still suffering from these... accidents?"

"Trelaine said a ter'angreal sickens the city," Jaice mildly corrects you. "That does not mean for sure that she meant the accidents; and when I left, no such ter'angreal had been found. So... who knows?" Shrugging, she too takes a long pull of the cool concoction before her. "Some ter'angreal can be set off by anyone; this we know. But if a solution is to be found 'across from a leaning ladder' then that insinuates it is found away from where the actual ter'angreal is. Maybe there's instructions or someone who knows what it is."

Her glass already halfways drained, Maeve idly runs a slender finger along its rim, staring down into the liquid left. A few stray curls of hair slip forward, into her eyes, and as she makes a motion to brush them aside she looks up at you once again. "Another puzzle, and this time we only have fragmentary pieces. Can we afford to keep an eye on this place for a time?" She eyes you questioningly, though she knows just as well as you that the ter'angreal may be near-finished, but no more. "We have little else to do, if we want to try and solve the mystery that is." A pale sort of smile, "Tar Valon... it is no longer my concern, but this does intrigue me, and who knows what could happen in the end. Perhaps its already cleared up, but..."

Jaice presses her lips in a decided manner. "Either way, we have to assume the problem still exists because we don't have information otherwise. And being that there is a possibility here that the Pattern -has- dropped us here for a reason, we should investigate. It would not take much to watch the building across the street to see if there is anything to it; if there is not, then we know."

A curt nod to confirm her agreement, a touch unneccessarily firm as if Maeve needed to convince someone, likely herself, that this indeed is the best course of action. And of course, there's just a hint of adventure to this, certaintly enough to trap her interest like a fly in warm honey. "We can afford the time, and surely come up with a plausible cover for our presence." Those grey eyes flick over the room once more, before she lifts her glass to her lips again, draining it. "Might need a few more of these though."

Jaice stands as a table near a front window clears out, and she nods to you as she settles herself in it to watch the building across the way. "It looks like an antique shop," she says wonderingly. "Harmless enough."

Joining you at the new table, which thankfully is somewhat cooler, the open window letting in a bit of fresh air (well, as fresh as it gets on a day like this), Maeve too stares off at the building across the street, nodding thoughtfully at your comment. "Cairhien nobility, for all the starkness of their architecture, seem fond of little trinkets. The older and rarer the better."

"Hrm..." Jaice doesn't answer for a time, but as the hours pass both women order a meal and beverages, talking as they keep an eye on the little store. Several people enter and leave it, mostly the upper class, and most especially a little man who locks up at the end of the night. Feeling they've found some information at the very least, the two women decide to return the next day, and when the shop closes up that evening, they are waiting in the shadows by the Tavern wall.

"I guess it is time to recall those first Earth lessons," Maeve murmurs quietly to you, as you watch the little man, the store's owner it would seem, disappear down the street after locking the door. Her angular features show little of what is on her mind, though a bright gleam in her eyes betray some excitement. "At least he won't be storing fireworks in there," she adds as an afterthought.

Your friend eyes you with a dry look of amusement for that comment -- trust you to bring up the exploding boat incident -- and as she watches the hunched old man meander down the street she crosses to the antique store he'd left. Her dark breeches don't show under the cover of night, and her steps make little noise at all. "I do not feel particularly right about going in here," she admits to you when she reaches the store wall. "But... if there is a chance he's got whatever it is we're looking for -- Light knows what that is -- then I feel even less right not checking." Her murmurs fade into a muttered string of half-heard curses as she examines the door. "I only wish life would be normal, just once. This peeking about will be the death of me. Are you any stronger in Earth than I am?"

"Its not quite like we're planning to rob the store." Though, Maeve looks a touch tense as well, a little uneasy, no matter what she tries to sound like as you quietly make your way toward the door. "I wish we could conceal ourselves somehow though, if anyone were to look this way..." She doesn't finish the sentence, except for with something meant as a shrug but which doesn't quite turn out like one. "Earth is my weakest Power, but I managed the lock-picking exercise well enough." Not daring to wait any longer, she embraces without further comments, the golden glow of Saidar illuminating her.

[Channeling] Maeve --> Embracing Saidar, Maeve quickly weaves delicate tendrils of greenish Earth, the haste and her relative lack of strength with this Power making her task a slow one. The first attempt at nudging the lock open fails, though a second, more careful one slowly but surely works the fine pieces within the lock in the right direction.

Jaice embraces as well, though merely leans casually against the wall as though she's got every right to be exactly where she is. As you use Earth to pick the lock, you can hear her murmur, just softly. "If we find something to do with the trouble in Tar Valon, then we'll surely take it; and so we are planning on robbing the store." Jaice always did see things the way they were, only right now, you may be wishing she didn't. "But there is nothing for it; there is the thought too that if this man has something to do with it, then he's likely not the most scrupulous of businessmen. Aren't you -done- yet?" Patience, Jaice.

*Click*

Finally, the lock snaps open, Maeve almost jumping back at the sudden sound. "Whew... at least only my weaving was rusty, not the lock." Your comments she leaves unanswered, at least until you get into the store, which is the foremos thought on her mind right now. Carefully, trying to hide within the shadows, she presses the handle down and pulls the door open. No creaking at least, and she slips inside as hastily as she dares, impatiently motioning for you to follow - even though you _are_ close behind her. "If he has something which in any way concerns a ter'angreal... Some would say the Tower owns them all, I wouldn't but even so... this could be a sort of emergency." She seems good at convincing her own conscience.

[Antique Store: Cairhien, Cairhien]
How quaint! This little antique store is clean, if a wee bit cramped, and is obviously owned by someone very well to do and very good at what he does. The room is decorated in the dark brown of rich mahogany, interspersed with velvet-red tapestries that hang heavily down the walls in the few spaces where the shelves don't rest. Antiques and collectibles are carefully placed everywhere; on tables, on neatly arranged shelves... even the furniture seems to be antique. This is definitely a store for the most refined collector.

A tiny glowball illuminates the area just ahead of Jaice, enough to offer something to see by but not enough to cause alarm from the street. She squints into the gloom, obviously not completely aware of what she's looking for. "What a lot of junk." Junk? Not in the slightest; but who knows what Jaice finds valuable.

A wry ghost of a smile play over Maeve's lips, but even that betrays tension... and excitement. "See any useful junk? Perhaps a manual on the use of obscure ter'angreal." A pale, golden-glowing sphere appear near Maeve as well, eerily illuminating the space closest to her. "Light... it had to be an antique shop, everything in here looks odd." Hands upon her hips, she scans the room, or as much of it as she can make out at least.

Jaice bites her lip, her steps overquiet as she surveys the antiques on the shelves. These she seems to dismiss fairly quickly. "If there's something here it won't be on the shelves. Just think; if something here is related to a ter'angreal in Tar Valon, then it's secret or valuable. It'd be hidden." After surveying the room, her gaze rests on the stairs, and she peers up them. "Office?"

"If the owner knows its value," Maeve quietly points out, keeping her vocie down just in case of... something. Nevertheless, she nods to your suggestion, slowly making her way towards the stairs, the little sphere floating ahead of her to illuminate her path. "Lets just hope he doesn't keep a mistress up there, " she wryly mutters halfways up.

"Him? A mistress?" Jaice snorts, and follows you up the stairs. "Not likely. But... be careful." As the two of you emerge into a dusky office, Jaice makes her way toward the only real piece of furniture in the room; the desk. "I'm feeling more and more like this was a wrong turn."

"Or perhaps... a right turn?" As it does seem you do have a way of smelling trouble, Maeve does not hesitate to heed your advice, her keen alertness visible to even the most casual observer as she pads quietly over to the desk. Saidar grasped firmly, she does seem prepared for anything and expecting the worst. "There's a drawer on this side," she quietly informs you as she walks around the heavy piece of furniture. "Locked." A frown then. Channeling at it could prove dangerous, depending on the contents.

"I don't suppose you know how to pick a lock the hard way," Jaice says discouragedly. She kneels near the desk, giving the drawer an experimental tug.

"It wasn't part of my education, I fear." A faint attempt at sounding less worried than she is, not a very successful one. "I suppose I should have tried to drag Diar along, something tells me it's a skill he has picked up." A quiet snort upon that, like he'd ever have gone along for this anyhow, then she bends down to inspect the drawer. "We've got to try. If I concentrate on the lock, have a shield ready?"

Jaice sniffs, evidently not pleased at all by this turn of events. "All right. But if you still yourself, I'll kill you myself." There's a humourous teasing tone to her voice, but it doesn't do much to ease the worry lines at her brow. "Be careful."

"How kind of you to offer," the reply comes, a touch of humor in Maeve's voice as well, though its faint and not too convincing, betraying tension. She studies the lock for a little longer, then with a slight nod indicates that she's ready to start. Pale-green tendrils of Earth twist into a simple weave, which snakes into the lock. So much smaller than the lock on the door, this proves a real challenge. Lines of deep concentration appear on her brow, and the air in the room seems to stand still as she works. Failure first, but at least no backlash of any kind, and after what appears as hours there's finally a faint 'click', and then a deep 'whew'.

Your sigh is echoed by Jaice; she probably didn't even realize she was holding her breath. "Thank the Light," she murmurs, then tugs the drawer open. "More junk," she says, peering into it. "And papers." Grasping a handful of the latter, she sits on the floor to examine them. "Receipts... paperwork... bookkeeping..." Papers get dropped on the floor as she discards them, and then she pauses, peering at one.

"Papers?" At first Maeve sounds... less than impressed, though she does grab a stack of yellowed sheets, starting to flick through them without looking very hopeful. But, catching you interest in one she stops too, looking down at you. "Found anything?" She asks almost carefully, as if she's not daring to hope for more luck.

"Maybe," Jaice murmurs, squinting over the spidery writing. "This man sold a 'collectable' to someone in Tar Valon. It says... no, wait, he says it's a Ter'angreal." Eyes shining, your friend spares a quick, excited glance to you, then goes back to reading. "Price... history... oh, here. Says he'd never have parted with it except to another collector like himself -- and the price he got for it. Man's got a strange sense of humour. Ah... candlestick? I think that's what it says. 'Be very careful, do not remove the top or it will be triggered; such dangers are not for historians like ourselves. If that happens, replace the top, but then your piece will be worthless for from what I understand it will melt together." She glances meaningfully at you, and goes back to reading. "What else... says he knew of another in stories, but came across another top before he ever found this whole one, and if ever he had need of it..." Pressing the paper into your hands, she peers into the drawer once again. "It must be in here."

Hardly believing your luck it seems, Maeve just stares at you and the paper, then shakes her head. "Light... it looks like the pieces are falling into place. A ter'angreal... could it be?" She pauses, her glance inquisitive and hesitant at the same time, but then she too springs into action, a glowing sphere quickly forned to light up the dark interiors of the drawer. "A collector, who collects ter'angreal... who would buy a dangerous one," she mutters to herself as you search, from the sound of her voice not at all liking the picture which seems to be forming. "I wonder if the accidents really are so... accidental."

Jaice snorts, one hand reaching in to rummage in the depths of the drawer. "Likely the 'collector' in Tar Valon wasn't a collector at all. At least, not if it ended up causing so much trouble. If it -was- set off by accident, why wouldn't he have just deactivated it again? Light, but there's a lot of stuff in here, Maeve." She pulls out a dish, a small box and a round rod, setting them on the floor. Then her groping fingers close around a small cube, and this she pulls forth to examine. "Do you suppose this is it?"

Maeve frowns as you say out loud what she is thinking, or enough of it anyhow. "And if it was set off on purpose..." She quiets again, looking about the room tensely, as if she expects things to leap out of the shadows. Then, as you present the small cube, all such concerns are momentarily forgotten. "It... it feels right," she quickly replies, nodding firmly.

"Feels right?" Jaice repeats questioningly. "I'd rather not go by feel. Hrm. Hrm hmm. The letter says it was a cube... this certainly has the hole in one side, and..." She squints at the thing, studying its cool, smooth surface. "It's a ter'angreal. Here, take a look." She presses this into your hands as well, and surveys the mess on the floor.

As you study the cube, Jaice makes her way to the window, watching the street. Just in case.

Closing slender fingers about the cube, Maeve brings it up into the meager light her glow-sphere provides. "It is," she confirms a moment later, the tell-take signs of a ter'angreal now familiar to her. "A fairly safe bet would be that it is the one mentioned, the part he had aquired. Light, such a stupid man." Silence then, and she too pads over to the window, "What now?"

Jaice shakes her head, only watching the street outside. "Just making sure nobody was coming back. I'm... itchy, being in here. Let's take what we need and go? Light help us if we get caught and he -isn't- just a harmless old man." She pauses then, re-thinking her words. "But what else can he be? He'd not have staged the letter."

"The person who bought the ter'angreal from him worries me more. But you are right, let us hurry back home. I don't want to stay and find out that the mystery client is a regular..." Clenching the ter'angreal firmly in her fist, Maeve hurriedly goes about stacking the papers into some semblance of order, and propping them back into the drawer. "I suppose we ought to lock it," she says with a sigh, but luckily locking proves easier than unlocking, or perhaps it's merely practice. With that out of the way, the two of you quickly descend the stairs, and make your way out of the store, just barely remembering to lock the door as well.