Fanfic:A Facade of Blue
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Mirin followed Illyria Sedai into a large, domed chamber ringed with stand lamps. The light reflected from the polished stone walls. She blinked, her eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness after spending so long in the dimly lit corridors. Her legs ached with the pain of climbing hundreds of stairs to one of the highest levels of the Tower.
She took long, deep breaths. In her mind, she envisioned a flower bud, opening itself serenely to the light. The glow of saidar floated at the edge of her vision, but she did not reach for it. She used the simple exercise merely to calm herself. Part of the test, she knew, was to see if she could endure the trials with utter calm. And Mirin was determined to pass.
Today was the day that she would finally become an Aes Sedai.
"Attend," Illyria said, formally. Eight Aes Sedai, one from each Ajah, stepped forward to stand in a ring surrounding Mirin.
"You came here in ignorance. How would you depart?"
"In knowledge of myself," Mirin replied.
"For what reason have you been summoned here?"
"To be tried."
"For what reason should you be tried?"
"So that I may learn whether I am worthy."
"For what would you be found worthy?"
"To wear the shawl."
"Therefore, I will instruct you."
Mirin listened carefully as Illyria explained the test. Then, a sister draped in a grey-fringed shawl stepped forward and laid a small, complex weave upon Mirin.
"Remember what must be remembered," she said. As she spoke, she dipped her thumb into a small wooden bowl and smeared a dab of sandalwood oil on Mirin’s forehead. "When you see the sign, you will ascend at a steady pace, neither hurrying nor hanging back."
As she stepped back, a Brown sister moved forward. She settled a second weave on Mirin. "Remember what must be remembered," she repeated. The oil that she used smelled of bergamot.
Each of the eight Aes Sedai laid her ward on Mirin. Each recited her portion of the ceremony. Each anointed Mirin with oil; jasmine for the Indigo, violet for the Blue, and lemon blossom for the Yellow.
"Go steadily and hold fast to your serenity," said the last sister. Mirin recognized her: Carraidhin, the Head of the Red Ajah and, so far, its only sister. Their eyes met, and then the Aes Sedai lifted her head, breaking their brief connection. Her red-fringed shawl swung gently as she moved back with the others.
"If you are ready, you may begin," the Mistress of Novices said, solemnly. She gestured toward a new opening on the far side of the chamber. "May the Light illumine and keep you."
To hesitate or lose composure would mean being turned out of the Tower. Mirin’s expression remained smooth and expressionless. She moved forward, one foot in front of the other, and stepped onto the Great Stair.
The town had been ravaged by war. The people trudged along, lost hope in their eyes. The smell of smoke and blood still hung in the air. Vultures hovered overhead, searching for torn flesh. Mirin picked her way through the rubble, managing to glide despite the destruction that surrounded her.
"Aes Sedai?"
Mirin turned. The voice came from a young man, still gawky from a recent growth spurt. "My little brother needs help, Aes Sedai. He got a bad cough and a fever. Could you come Heal him? Please?"
Before Mirin could respond, another voice called for her attention. It was a woman, the wife of the mayor. She was running down the street, her skirts hitched to her waist. "Mirin! Mirin Sedai! Some fighters have returned and they need immediate care. Quickly!"
The young man caught her arm. "Please," he whispered insistently. "It will only take a moment to heal one boy. He’s in bad shape, Aes Sedai. I’ll give you anything. Please!"
Mirin turned to the mayor’s wife. "Gather the womenfolk. Place the wounded in order from the most severe to the least. Stop the bleeding where you can with dogwort or healall. I will be there as soon as I can."
"But –" the woman protested.
"Go!" Mirin commanded. Her expression remained serene but her voice cut through the air like a whip. The woman winced and fled.
Then, she spoke to the young man. "Take me to your brother. Quickly!"
The boy was in bed, the front of his shirt stained with blood. He coughed, bringing up more red sputum. Mirin worked quickly. She had little Talent in Healing, yet she had spent enough time in the infirmary to know how to act. A loop of Water, Air, and Spirit, to drive out the infection. Then another weave, this time mostly with Water, to bring down the fever. A third weave of Spirit put the boy into a restful, dreamless sleep.
Gratitude shone in the eyes of the boy’s family. "Thank you, Aes Sedai," the mother said tearfully.
Mirin smiled and nodded politely. She thought of the troop of wounded fighters waiting for her – the thought of working among the sweat and blood made her tired. But duty came first. She took a step toward the door, to find the mayor’s wife.
Then the world faded around her.
The torches blinked out beside her. Mirin had passed the first Stair. That must have been the step for the Yellow, she thought. The test had been less about Healing and more about… choices. That made sense, as not everyone had the talent for Healing, yet Mirin still felt surprised, along with a hint of unease. Would the rest of the Stairs be just as surprising? There was only one way to find out. She moved onward and up, onto the next step.
She found herself striding along the battlements of a fort. An unfamiliar weight hung at her hip – a short sword, she discovered, with some confusion. Light help her, she had no idea how to wield a sword! But there was no time for thought. A horn blared from the watchtower. "The Seanchan!" a guard cried. "They’re coming again! To arms! To arms!"
On the horizon, she could see the enemy force approach.
A male voice spoke behind her. It was one of the army officers. "They have two damane," he said as he peered through the spyglass in his hand.
"Where?"
He pointed. "Back left." And yes, Mirin could see the women, bound by the collars around their necks to a pair of sul’dam wearing dresses with panels of forked lightning.
"Leave them to me." The fierce words sounded foreign coming out of her mouth. A braver woman should have spoken them. But there were no other channelers to defend this fort. If she did not fight, then the walls would be torn apart by weaves of Earth and Fire. Mirin steeled herself and resisted the urge to draw on the Power for comfort. Once she embraced saidar, her location would be revealed to the damane. When the right moment came, she would have to strike quickly.
She moved along the battlement to find a better position. As she walked, the soldiers around her nodded or bowed in deference.
"Light illumine you, Aes Sedai."
"May the Creator shelter us all," she replied.
The Seanchan drew closer. Mirin held her breath. Then it began.
"Ready. Aim. Fire!" Arrows rained down on the Seanchan, but they raised their shields in defense.
Mirin watched as the damane and sul’dam moved to seek shelter behind the shields. When would they strike? The men on the ground steeled themselves as the Seanchan replied with their own rain of arrows. From around the edge of the fort, the cavalry suddenly appeared to charge into the flank of the enemy force.
Too slow, Mirin sensed it. A ball of fire burst from one of the damane and streaked toward the horses. It crashed into the men. Blood. Horror. Terror. Mirin stood frozen for a horrible second, and then she opened herself to the Power. She filled herself to the brim and then began to weave.
The shields came flying toward her, but she struck them down easily with slices of Spirit. Two versus one, she thought. Not good odds. But she had to fight. It had been stupid to think that she could wait for a chance to strike, she realized. Too many lives would have been lost if she waited.
Mirin spun weaves of Spirit, three or four at a time, disrupting the attacks of the damane. She wove shields of her own to keep them occupied, trying again and again to cut them off from the Source. As she wove, she thanked the Creator for her strength in Spirit. It was by far her best element. She watched with humorless satisfaction as the frustration on their faces grew – each of their weaves was sliced to useless bits.
One of the sul’dam yanked on her leash in anger, accidentally pulling her damane off balance. Mirin saw the opportunity and immediately struck – a small weave of Spirit, Water, and Air directed at the sul’dam. The damane’s wail cut through the air as her sul’dam clutched at her chest. Quickly, Mirin did the same to the damane, releasing the woman from her misery. The two women collapsed together, dead before they hit the ground.
The men around Mirin cheered. A couple of them slapped her on the back in congratulations. Mirin smiled thinly, but her eyes were drawn to the face of the other sul’dam. The woman’s expression spelled death. Mirin felt a chill down her spine, but returned the gaze with similar coldness.
The sul’dam suddenly turned and shouted something. Immediately, the enemy force began to withdraw. The shouts of the men reached a fever pitch and they began to chase the Seanchan down. Battle won, Mirin released saidar and her exhaustion finally hit her. She swayed, gripping the battlement with white knuckles.
Slowly, her surroundings faded to black.
The second set of torches blinked out. Mirin’s expression remained calm, although internally she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. She had worried the most about the test of the Green because fighting was not her strong point. At least I passed, she thought. She stepped forward.
Mirin sipped delicately from her goblet. Her legs were folded under her on a soft silk cushion. Across from her, a nobleman smiled at her. The smile was oily and unpleasant.
"Of course, Mirin Sedai," he said, clearly eager to please. "I will call for every female in this household to be tested. It is an honor, truly, to have you visit us –"
His words were cut off as the door slid open. A serving woman walked in, balancing a tray of tea.
The nobleman’s words were suddenly sharp. "What is this?" he demanded. "I did not call for tea! You wench!"
He continued to scold the woman, who bowed her head and trembled. Mirin controlled her expression, but she was astonished. It was simply not proper to berate servants like this – at least not in public. A sudden suspicion lurked at the back of her mind.
"Please," she said, gently interrupting his rant. She reached for the teapot and smoothly poured two cups of tea. The steam that rose from the cups carried a sweet, honeyed fragrance. "Surely this is only a small matter. In fact, I was just thinking to myself that I would like some tea. Mmm, it smells delicious. Here, try it."
The nobleman was suddenly all smiles. He lifted a cup to his lips. Mirin pretended to sip at her cup and observed carefully as he downed his own. She noticed the serving woman had not yet left, and instead seemed to be watching her master keenly.
Her suspicion was correct. A few seconds later, he began to choke. Mirin immediately placed down her own cup and embraced saidar. She leapt up and captured the servant with bonds of Air.
"Why was the tea poisoned?" she demanded coldly. As she spoke, she spun weaves of Healing.
The woman stared back with hard eyes. "He deserves it!" Her voice rose passionately. "He yells at us and beats us and never pays our wages. We called for the Grey Tower to come and see, to seek justice, but the lord hides and lies. He turns on the charm and nothing ever changes. Pardon me, Aes Sedai, but we thought you were falling for it, too. We had to do something! Let him die, Aes Sedai!"
Mirin clenched her jaw. She struggled with her decision, but there was no time to think. The man was dying. She replied quickly.
"First, you will never speak to me in that tone of voice," she said, harshly. "Second, who are you to sentence him to death? I will bring him to be judged in the court of law. I promise you that he will find justice. But not by poison, given by the hand of a woman who had sworn to serve. Third, you and your friends will also find yourself standing before the court of law – for attempted murder."
Her weaves settled on the man and he convulsed, vomiting all over the cushions and his fine coat. Mirin made a sound of disgust, but before she could speak again, the world began to fade. Everything went black.
Another set of torches blinked out. The test for the Blue, she thought. The Stair had been harder than she expected. Much harder. Had she made the right choice? No, this was not the time for doubt or worry. Mirin took another step. Onward and upward.
Mirin rode up to the farmhouse. It was in the middle of fields of corn stretching as far as the eye could see. The farmer was waiting for her.
"Light be wi’ you, Aes Sedai," he said, in a thick accent. "Come wi’ me, it is in tha’ barn."
She dismounted her horse and followed him to the barn, gliding serenely over the dirt and grass.
"Tha’ it is," he pointed. As soon as she saw the object, she felt an overwhelming sense of danger. She backed away, pulling the farmer with her.
"Where did you find it?"
"Ah was ploughin’ mah fields, Aes Sedai. And it came up righ’ out there, came righ’ up in the dirt. As soon as Ah saw it, Ah knew somethin’ was wrong! Ah knew it!"
"Show me exactly where," she ordered.
He shook his head. "I dun remember righ’, Aes Sedai."
She looked out over the fields of swaying corn and had to remind herself to stay calm. There were hundreds of acres of land – of course the man couldn’t remember. There could be an entire cache of ter’angreal here… and she would never know.
For a moment, greed and anger threatened to overwhelm her. How dare the man forget the location of such a valuable object? She wanted desperately to scream at the man, to find a dozen oxen and ploughs to begin smashing the corn and tearing at the soil in search of more Objects of Power. But that would ruin the man’s livelihood. He needed his crops.
She took deep, calming breaths. All was not lost. There was the one ter’angreal in the barn. That would have to be enough. She turned to the farmer.
"Thank you for calling for us," she said quietly. Her tone was composed and soothing. "The object is dangerous and I will remove it immediately. I appreciate your cooperation. Here is a bag of coin," she tossed him a pouch. His eyes grew larger as he hefted it in his hand. She smiled. "If you find anything else, please let us know. Light be with you."
He bowed several times, grinning widely. "Yes, Aes Sedai. If Ah find anythin’ else, Ah’ll let you know! Ah’ll let you know immediately!"
She walked toward the barn, contemplating how to gather the ter’angreal without danger. Then, the world faded to darkness.
The fourth set of torches blinked out. She had passed the step for the Indigo. I am halfway done, she thought. She stepped forward.
Mirin entered the shack. There was an old man lying on his bed. Somehow, she knew his name.
"Master Jonstan?"
The man stirred feebly.
"My name is Mirin Ronaile," she said. She spoke loudly and clearly, in the voice that she used for the elderly. "I was hoping that you could help me, Master Jonstan. I have heard that you know a lot about the past. Can I speak with you?"
He struggled to sit up. Mirin helped him, and then propped a few pillows behind his head to make him comfortable.
His voice was as thin as reeds. "If you could be so kind, could you make food for me? Light knows when I've eaten properly."
And Light knows when you’ll ever get around to telling me the story. Or if you’ll ever finish it, Mirin thought, dryly. But she hid her thought. Instead, her lips curved into a smile. "Of course, Master Jonstan."
She moved to rummage around in the kitchen. Several minutes later, she had a bowl of warm porridge. She fed him with a spoon – his hands trembled too much to hold it on his own – and their conversation turned to the ancient history of the Black Hills.
He spoke of his childhood on a farm in the Black Hills, without worry of trouble from outsiders. He spoke of his young adulthood carrying the sword, and the countless battles that he fought against Shadowspawn. He spoke of witnessing the fall of Malkier, and his shame at letting the nation fall. He described his dealings with the Borderland countries and the rise and fall of their kings and queens.
He spoke of his loneliness and his fear. Not fear of death – he had made peace with death long ago – but of the fear of dying forgotten.
"I never thought I would make it to this day," he said, with a dry chuckle. The laugh turned into a hacking cough. Mirin waited patiently.
"I thought that I would die on the battlefield. That I would Sheathe the Sword and die a soldier’s death. But I survived. And I lived a long, full life… and so many friends have passed. My brothers, my friends, my comrades-in-arms… I am the last. I am the only one who remembers. But who will remember me?"
"I will," she whispered.
He smiled. The wrinkles on his face folded along familiar lines of laughter.
As he spoke, his voice became weaker and weaker. Mirin made tea and lifted it to his lips, but she knew that he was dying. Although the One Power could cure many ills, it could not Heal old age.
She held his hand, stroking it gently, as he spoke. And finally, when words and time ran out, he closed his eyes.
The set of torches blinked out. Mirin blinked furiously, forcing her tears away. The test for the Brown had been unexpectedly emotional – but she would not cry. To lose her composure would mean failure. And she could not fail! Determination filled her heart. Dry-eyed, she stepped up to the next step.
Mirin walked out from behind a pillar. Her skirts were of fine grey silk, and she could feel the weight of a shawl around her shoulders. From behind the other marble columns came three other women. The first walked with a rolling sway and wore the nose ring and golden chains of the Atha’an Miere. The second was a tall, sun-haired woman in a flowing blouse and dress. And the third – Mirin did a double-take – wore a dress with panels of forked lightning. The dress of a Seanchan sul’dam!
Mirin filled herself with the Power. She would not be taken and made damane! She’d rather die! Immediately, the glow of saidar appeared as halos around the other women, including the sul’dam. Mirin was so surprised that she nearly lost her hold on the Power.
The sul’dam held out her hands, palms up. "I come in peace, with empty hands," she said. Her accent was slurred and drawling. "Like we agreed. I do not hold a leash."
After a pause, Mirin nodded. The four met under the colored glass dome that stretched overhead.
The tall woman spoke first. "We come today to speak of the training of our apprentices. I speak for my people, the Aiel, the People of the Dragon."
"I speak for my people, the People of the Sea."
"I speak as a servant of the Empress, may she live forever."
Their eyes turned to Mirin. She hid her confusion. Somehow, her voice came out strong. "I speak for my people, the free people of the Westlands."
"We are here today to speak of the training of our apprentices," the tall woman intoned, again. "It would be of benefit to our people – all of our people – if we exchanged learning and knowledge."
Mirin listened carefully as the other women discussed the proposal. And slowly, she began to understand the situation. They were here today to form an agreement for exchange students! Mirin was astonished. This idea was revolutionary.
But there were many barriers to the negotiations. The Aiel woman had trouble wrapping her mind around the vastness of the ocean. The idea of an endless pool of undrinkable water was unfathomable to a woman who had lived her life in a desert.
"What use would working the water be in the Three-fold Land?" she asked. "Useless!"
Meanwhile, the Windfinder from the Atha’an Miere felt supremely uncomfortable with being land-bound and insisted on month-long vacations to the sea for each year of training – an impossible annoyance, thought Mirin. And everyone, besides the sul’dam, had difficulty understanding the place of damane in Seanchan culture.
"How would it be beneficial for our students to serve as damane?" asked Mirin.
"The leash would teach humility, obedience, and service to society," the sul’dam answered. She stared at the other women with dark eyes.
"Through psychological torture?"
The sul’dam grimaced. "With all due respect, Aes Sedai, you place your students through tests in which they may die," she said. Her voice dripped with the weary patience of a teacher instructing a dull student. "No damane has died in training in over four hundred years."
Mirin’s lips thinned but she stayed quiet. As much as she hated to admit it, the sul’dam spoke true. Mirin had known many women who died in the tests to become Aes Sedai. Some went into the arches – and never came out again. Others came out, their ability to channel burned away, a fate worse than death.
"You agree to release the student after a year and a day?" insisted the Windfinder.
The sul’dam frowned unhappily, but she nodded.
"And we will only send students to be leashed if they choose to go," declared Mirin.
This sparked another entire argument about the number of students to be exchanged. The sul’dam and Windfinder insisted on having their fair share of students as well, while Mirin and the Aiel woman argued that no student should be forced to go somewhere that she did not want to be.
The negotiations were long and arduous. Mirin found her own arguments analyzed and challenged by minds as sharp as her own. She had thought herself to be fairly skilled in the art of negotiation and persuasion – but these women rivaled her at every turn. She was forced to revise her most basic assumptions and to yield ground where she had expected to gain. At the end of the discussion, Mirin could feel her mind stretched to bits, as though it had been rolled and flattened like dough. Her exhaustion was mirrored on the faces of the others.
But they had a tentative agreement.
"I will bring your words back to my people," said the Aiel woman. She grimaced slightly. "There may be some… outcry and criticism. But I will defend you, as you will defend me."
"I will defend you, as you will defend me," repeated the sul’dam. She looked… frightened. Mirin couldn’t blame her; the rigidity of Seanchan culture was terrifying. Despite herself, her heart went out to the woman, and she hoped that the sul’dam would not be punished for the concessions that she had to make.
"I will defend you, as you will defend me," said the Windfinder.
Mirin nodded. "I will defend you, as you will defend me," she said. Then she added, "I have learned much today, and am grateful that we have met. Light illumine you, sisters."
"Light illumine you, Aes Sedai," they replied. Then, each woman turned to move away. As Mirin took her step back, the world faded to blackness.
Another set of torches blinked out. Mirin stared forward, feeling the heaviness of fatigue. The Grey Ajah was her second choice Ajah, and she loved the study of conflict resolution and negotiation. Yet the test for the Grey had drained her. Her knowledge of foreign cultures had been stretched to its limits. She moved forward.
Mirin watched the woman standing at the window. She was tall and statuesque, with proud features. A crown sat delicately in her hair. Instinctively, Mirin knew that the woman was a queen.
The queen spoke with cultured tones in an accent that Mirin could not place. "Mirin Sedai."
"Yes, Your Majesty?"
"I require your advice, Mirin. A murderer asked audience this morning and he claimed the Wheel and the Pattern made him commit the crime. That his actions were a result of fate. I ruled that the laws must be obeyed to maintain order and sentenced him to death. But –" the queen turned, and Mirin saw the distress in her expression. "– if one can foresee what the Pattern has in store for him, can his actions really be subject to the law?
"I was born to be queen, Mirin. The Pattern wove me as such. Who am I to judge a man, born into poverty and violence, seeing no way out of his pitiful circumstance? Who am I to fight against destiny?"
There was a note of despair in the woman’s voice. Mirin realized that this was not just a problem with the case of the murderer. She moved toward the woman.
"The burdens of a queen are heavy," she said softly. She placed a gentle hand on the queen’s arm. "You sound upset, Your Majesty. What is wrong?"
Slowly, the story spilled out. Her loneliness in her unhappy marriage. Her despair when thinking of becoming pregnant with heirs. The queen had no desire for children, but she realized the necessity for the continuity of the royal family. And she hated her life.
Mirin listened silently, patting the queen’s arm in comfort. When the woman stopped speaking, Mirin paused for a minute. Then, she said, "Tell me do you ever play dice?"
The queen turned to her, astonished. "Mirin Sedai! Of course not!"
"A die is carved with six faces," said Mirin. "Its form is regular, and it cannot change its shape from a die to, say, a coin. But when you throw a die, it can land on any of its faces."
"What does this have to do with anything?" the queen demanded.
Mirin smiled. "People are like die," she said, gently. "You have been carved by the Pattern to become a queen. But you may always choose which face to land on. The Pattern does not weave our choices, Your Majesty. The murderer that you sentenced to death may have been born in poverty. But when he was faced with a choice, he chose to kill. And as for you, you too have a choice. What do you want from life, Miranda?"
The queen flinched as Mirin said her name. After long silence, she finally spoke. "Few dare to address me so… boldly," said Miranda. "But I thank you for your words of wisdom. I am like a die. I have many faces. And I can choose which one to show the world. Perhaps it is time to let go of the queen and become… just Miranda."
Mirin turned to embrace the woman. But as she did so, the world shimmered, and her surroundings disappeared.
The set of torches blinked out. As her memories returned, she nearly cracked a smile. And they say Whites are emotionless, Mirin thought wryly. The Stair had been a marathon of delicate emotional balancing.
She gazed ahead at the last set of torches. She could not see what lay beyond them – the Stairs seemed to stretch into darkness. The last step, she thought. Quickly, she ran through a mental list of the Ajahs. The only one remaining was the Red.
One last challenge before she became an Aes Sedai. She stepped forward.
The innkeeper brought bread and wine. Mirin sipped at her goblet delicately. Her eyes scanned the common room. Something was wrong, she realized. Though the room was full, the voices spoke in whispers. It was quiet, for an inn. Too quiet.
She raised her goblet to summon the innkeeper.
"What’s wrong?" she asked.
"Pardon me?"
"It’s too quiet. What’s wrong?"
"N-nothing, Aes Sedai," he stuttered, but Mirin caught the flicker of his eye toward a corner of the inn. A man stood there, tall and handsome and dressed in a finely embroidered coat.
She tilted her head toward the man. "Who is he?"
"W-well, Aes Sedai, I r-really shouldn’t say – "
Mirin hissed through her teeth with impatience. Almost, she reached for saidar. But the look on her face must have frightened the innkeeper because the story came spilling out. The tall man was a local lord who had a nasty habit of picking girls and forcing them to bed. And no one could raise a hand against him. After all, who could face a lord?
Mirin regarded the innkeeper coldly. "Disgusting," she said. "Why didn’t any of you stand up for those poor girls?"
The innkeeper paled. "You don’t understand, Aes Sedai. He is the one who signs our papers so we can do business. He owns almost all the land we work on and – by the Light, Aes Sedai, what do you expect us to do?"
Part of her wanted to pass judgment on the innkeeper and the commonfolk sitting around her. But another part of her understood their predicament. Their livelihoods were on the line, and it was easier to simply keep their heads down.
"Watch carefully, and remember," she said. "Remember that you may always find help at the Grey Tower."
She stood and stretched languidly, the childhood training from her Domani mother showing through. She shook out her hair, letting the wild, dark curls run free. Her lips curved into a seductive smile. Then, she looked straight at the young lord and beckoned. Her actions attracted every eye in the room. A quiet hush fell.
He came to her, slowly and cautiously, but he came. How could he not? Mirin’s skills were not as polished as a full-blooded Domani woman’s – yet they were more than sufficient to make the blood of any man boil.
She reached up to bring his head down to her height so that she could speak in his ear. Her voice was quiet, yet the silence in the inn allowed her words to carry.
"How do you think it feels to lose your manhood?"
Across the room, a patron spit out his drink and fell into a fit of coughs.
The lord drew back, disgust and surprise written all over his face. "What?"
"Because that’s what will happen if you continue abusing your power."
"What are you talking about? How dare you speak to me this way, wench? I will –"
In an instant, flows of Air had him hovering in the air, straining fruitlessly at his invisible bonds.
Mirin smiled cruelly. "I charge you with rape and assault of women who come to this inn. I also charge you with attempted assault of an Aes Sedai," she declared.
The man attempted to speak, but she stuffed his mouth full of Air. "No, my lord," she said. "This is not humiliation. This is justice. You are going immediately to prison. And you will be tried, not in this town, but in a court of law, by a neutral judge."
She walked out of the inn, using the flows of Air to carry the man behind her. The crowd parted before her, their eyes staring hatefully at their lord. She heard a noise and turned.
The crowd was throwing rocks! Mirin quickly wove a weave of Air to amplify her voice.
"Stop!" Her voice boomed like thunder. Many people dropped their rocks to cover their ears. Mirin adjusted a thread of Air, lowering the volume.
"You dare? You dare to deliver death? Do not think that just because you are a crowd absolves you of guilt," she said. "If he dies from a stoning, then every hand that tossed a stone is guilty, even if you did not deliver the killing blow! Justice cannot be delivered by a raging mob. Not like this! Don’t you want to see him suffer for his crimes? Don’t you want to allow the victims to see revenge? Present your evidence before the court and let the law deliver justice. Go home, now. All of you! I will deliver him to the jail."
A few eyes stared at her challengingly. She met them with a hard gaze. But inside, she trembled. What would she do if they came for her? She had the Power, but the Power could only do so much. If they threw stones, her skin would bruise and her bones would break as easily as any human. Her soul quaked with fear. But her body and manner exuded calm.
One by one, the challengers lowered their eyes. Finally, she turned and walked forward in peace.
The final set of torches flickered, but did not fade. Mirin stared at them, frightened. Had she done something wrong? After a long minute, they finally blinked out.
Mirin wanted to sob with relief. Instead, she found herself stepping smoothly into a round chamber with walls of pure white. The reflected light from several stand lamps shone into her eyes and she blinked blearily.
The familiar figure of the Mistress of Novices stepped forward.
"It is done," she said. She clapped her hands together sharply, her expression solemn, but her eyes twinkled with pride. "Let no one ever speak of what has passed here. It is for us to share in silence with she who has experienced it. It is done." Again, she clapped loudly. "It is done."
Mirin stared in disbelief. Had she done it? Had she really passed?
A new voice rang out. "Who comes here?"
No, it was not over yet, thought Mirin. There was more to the ceremony. "Mirin Ronaile, Accepted of the Grey Tower," she answered.
"For what reason do you come?" asked the voice.
"To swear the Three Oaths, and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai," she said, her voice strong and proud. This reply had been memorized and repeated innumerable times in her dreams. Oh, how she had hoped that this day would come! That she would finally say these sweet, sweet words. By the Light, this was really happening!
"By what right do you claim this burden?"
"By right of having made the passage, submitting myself to the will of the Grey Tower."
"Then enter if you dare, and bind yourself to the Grey Tower."
Finally, Mirin recognized the voice of the Amyrlin Seat. Along the wall, sisters from each of the Ajah stood with a shawl draped over their arms. And there, at the opposite side of the chamber, stood Miahala with the Amyrlin’s striped stole around her neck. At her side stood the Keeper of Chronicles with a velvet cushion that held a solid white object. Mirin moved forward steadily, neither hurrying nor lagging behind. Expressionless eyes followed as she moved across the floor.
She knelt in front of the Amyrlin Seat. From the velvet cushion, the Amyrlin took the white ter’angreal, the Oath Rod, and placed it in Mirin’s upraised hands. Then, the glow of saidar surrounded the Amyrlin and she touched the Oath Rod with a thin flow of Spirit.
Mirin closed her hands around the Rod. It felt like glass, only somehow smoother.
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will speak no word that is not true."
A strange sensation settled over her. It felt as though an invisible garment had appeared on her skin, creating a light pressure everywhere on her body.
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will make no weapon for one man to kill another."
The pressure grew. Sweat popped out on her forehead.
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow that I will never use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, or in the last extreme of defending my life or that of my Warder or another sister."
The garment squeezed tightly. Mirin stifled a gasp.
"It is half done, and the Grey Tower is graven on your bones," the Amyrlin intoned. "Rise now, Aes Sedai, and choose your Ajah, and all will be done that may be done under the Light."
Mirin rose stiffly and turned to face the Ajahs. As she walked toward the sisters of the Blue, she noticed a few sisters from the Yellow frowned. She almost laughed. Even if she had spent thousands of hours assisting in the infirmary, did they really expect her to join the Yellow with her mediocre skill in Healing? Mirin hid her amusement and kept her expression smooth.
Finally, she came before the three representatives from the Blue Ajah. Serrah Trimak, with long chestnut hair and kind, brown eyes. Laela Allette, a Sitter for the Blue, standing even shorter than Mirin with a blue kesiera dangling upon her forehead. And third, Sadira Jolstraer, a handsome woman with striking raven black hair. They watched her calmly, but expectantly. She knelt again, gritting her teeth to suppress a groan, and took a deep breath before she spoke. "I am called to you, and I answer my calling now. I pray you, accept me as a sister."
"Then rise, sister."
Smiling, Serrah draped a fringed shawl around her shoulders and helped Mirin to her feet. Then, she stepped forward to kiss Mirin’s cheeks.
"Welcome home, sister," she said. "We have waited long for you."
