Graendal wove a ribbon of Air. Working with the True Power was similar, yet not identical, to working with the One Power. A weave of the True Power would often function in a slightly different way, or have an unanticipated side effect. And there were some weaves that could only be crafted by the True Power.

The Great Lord’s essence forced the Pattern, straining it and leaving it scarred. Even something the Creator had designed to be eternal could be unraveled using the Great Lord’s energies. It bespoke an eternal truth—something as close to being sacred as Graendal was willing to accept. Whatever the Creator could build, the Great Lord could destroy.

She snaked her ribbon of Air through the room toward Aran’gar. The other Chosen had stepped out onto the balcony; Graendal forbade the creation of gateways inside, lest they damage her pets or her furnishings. Graendal lifted the ribbon of Air up to Aran’gar’s cheek and caressed it delicately.

Aran’gar froze. She turned, suspicious, but it took only a moment for her eyes to open wide. She wouldn’t have felt the goose bumps on her arms to indicate Graendal was channeling. The True Power gave no hint, no sign. Male or female, no one could see or sense the weaves—not unless he or she had been granted the privilege of channeling the True Power.

“What?” the woman asked. “How? Moridin is—”

“Nae’blis,” Graendal said. “Yes. But once the Great Lord’s favor in this regard was not confined to the Nae’blis.” She continued to caress Aran’gar’s cheek, and the woman flushed.

Aran’gar, like the other Chosen, lusted for the True Power while fearing it at the same time—dangerous, pleasurable, seductive. When Graendal withdrew her line of Air, Aran’gar stepped back into the room and returned to her chaise, then sent one of Graendal’s pets to fetch her toy Aes Sedai. Lust still burned Aran’gar’s cheeks; likely she would use Delana to distract herself. Aran’gar seemed to find it amusing to force the homely Aes Sedai into subservience.

Delana arrived moments later; she always remained nearby. The Shienaran woman was pale-haired and stout, with thick limbs. Graendal’s lips turned down. Such an unpretty thing. Not like Aran’gar herself. She’d have made an ideal pet. Maybe someday Graendal would have the chance to make her into one.

Aran’gar and Delana began to exchange affections on the chaise. Aran’gar was insatiable, a fact Graendal had exploited on numerous occasions, the lure of the True Power being only the latest. Of course, Graendal enjoyed pleasures herself, but she made certain that people thought she was far more self-indulgent than she was. If you knew what people expected you to be, you could use those expectations. It—

Graendal froze as an alarm went off in her ears, the sound of crashing waves beating against one another. Aran’gar continued her pleasures; she couldn’t hear the sound. The weave was very specific, placed where her servants could trip it to give her warning.

Graendal climbed to her feet, strolling around the side of the room, giving no indication of urgency. At the door, she sent a few of her pets in to help distract Aran’gar. Best to discover the scope of the problem before involving her.