Fanfic:Nykkolaia's Great Stair

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Nykkolaia's Great Stair
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It was time.

Nykkolaia had been all but dreading the moment that would come. She had no idea when it would be, or what would follow. No one spoke of the testing that one underwent to attain the Shawl, or the Cord, and that unknown terrified her. She didn't know what to expect when the Mistress of Novices had come to take her to the Three Arches, but now the preceding anxiety was far worse. This would be it. This would be the final test of her life here at the Tower. It would be the one to determine if she was worthy to become an Aes Sedai, and if all her efforts over these years were worth anything.

Now, Zaephra Sedai had come for her. It was time. Nykkolaia swallowed hard, but forced her thoughts to remain focused and not let her wander. If she allowed her mind to wander at this moment, it would be disastrous. It was time to prove that she could be calm in the face of all adversity, and that she had grown up from the tormented and timid little girl that had been all but thrown obediently from her home by her own mother and brought apathetically into the thick, grey walls of the Tower; that she had become a woman who was worthy of the honorific of Aes Sedai.

With steady, even breaths, the Accepted followed behind Zaephra. No words were spoken, which was acceptable to Nykkolaia. She had no words that she desired to say. In silence, she kept perfect pace with her hands laced loosely behind her. Calm. Collected.

The two women descended into the drafty passages of the basements. Nykkolaia couldn't fully repress a shiver at the thought of being in any basement, even if it was the Tower's. She knew that they were moving through the very mountains themselves, although the halls looked not too greatly different than any other belonging to the Tower. She reminded herself that the safety she had called her home for these years was above her. There was no bakery there. She let her blue eyes flicker briefly to take in the lamps set in their sturdy brackets, flickering light over them as they walked over clean floors and passed by locked doors. Their presence reminded her of where she was and she felt the ground once again under her feet, emotionally speaking.

Nykkolaia followed Zaephra Sedai to the sixth level and the elder stopped before a pair of great doors. Nykk did not think that she had ever seen any so large, and they reminded her of the fortress like barriers that either granted or forbade entry into the Tower itself. They glinted from their polished surface so much that they almost hurt her eyes. Zaephra channeled Air and pressed them open, which they did with only a whisper of sound. One wouldn't believe that doors of such immense size and power could be so quiet. Then again, this was hardly the most remarkable thing that she had witnessed in the Tower.

Stepping through, Nykk found herself inside a chamber of great proportions, round and with a tall domed ceiling. Candelabras on tall stands lined the edges and filled the great space with warm light, but Nykkolaia didn't feel warm. In fact, she felt a chill. The light was so bright that it did hurt her eyes and yet it did not occur to her to narrow them, or avoid the glare off polished walls. Squinting would not look like proper behavior for an Aes Sedai, right?

She walked into the room with an unhurried gate. Zaephra Sedai spoke in a robust voice, devoid of any emotion that would make this personal. This was ages of tradition and ritual. "Attend," she declared.

Seven Aes Sedai in representation of each Ajah, displayed by their shawls, closed in around Nykkolaia and for an instant it felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. She could not let it show and she didn't, as she took her time to look around at them. A few years ago, this would have terrified her. It was discomfiting now, but she withstood it.

"You came here in ignorance. How would you depart?" Zaephra asked.

Nykkolaia inhaled slowly and lifted her chin slightly. Her eyes stayed level and unblinking. She remained solid and unflinching. "In knowledge of myself," she said levelly.

"For what reason have you been summoned here?" Zaephra asked next. Her voice remained flat and ceremonial. Nothing showed in her impassive, ageless expression, and Nykkolaia did not look for anything. She knew that she was here like so many Accepted before her, to stand or to fall like all the rest and meaning nothing more than that. She expected nothing.

"To be tried," Nykk stated without hesitance.

"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," Nykkolaia replied.

Zaephra Sedai continued, "Therefore I will instruct you. As you ascend the Great Stair, you will be tested in both weaves of your chosen Ajah and in knowledge of each Ajah. When you have passed, the torches on either side of you will blink out. This is the sign for you to continue on. And forward you will go until you reach the top, and all torches are extinguished behind you..."

Directly before her, Selenirra Sedai of the Blue Ajah stepped forward. Her shawl was the symbol of all that Nykkolaia aspired to. It was her hand that had brought Nykk to the Tower. The glow of saidar shimmered around her as she lifted that hand and created a weave that she pressed into Nykkolaia's head. "Remember what must be remembered," she said. If anyone else had heard her voice, however, they showed no sign of it.

"...When you see the sign, you will ascend at a steady pace, neither hurrying nor hanging back. Only then may you embrace the Power. The weaving required must begin immediately and you may not go on until it is completed."

"Remember what must be remembered."

"When the Step is complete, you will see the sign again marking the way you must go, still at a steady pace and without hesitation."

"Remember what must be remembered."

"Seven times you will weave, in the order you will be given, and in perfect composure."

"Remember what must be remembered." As Selenirra Sedai finished, the weave settled into Nykk's body as though she had just been Healed. Perhaps, in a way, she had been.

Scents filled the room. Had they been there all along and just went unnoticed by her, or did they only rise up now? The scents were cloying in their thick confusion in her nose, but she thought that she could define them. There was sandalwood and jasmine, roses and violets, wild mint, bergamot and lemon blossoms. Idly, her mind connected the different Ajahs to each of these before she found herself drawn to the scent of violets. She followed her intuition forward to the bowl that the scent came from. Resting her hands on the edge of the bowl, she gazed into her reflection for an instant before dipping her fingers into the scented water and touching it to her temples, each side a different texture beneath her fingertips.

The voice of the Mistress of Novices rose up again from behind her, drawing into her consciousness once more. "If you are ready, child, you may begin. May the Light illumine and keep you."

Nykkolaia turned to face Zaephra and nodded in understanding. The Aes Sedai all moved to their places while the keen eyes of the Mistress of Novices stayed steady on Nykk. They were watching for any hesitation, any reticence, any break in Nykkolaia's composure. The scarred young woman resolved that she would see none. It would be the most utter failure of Nykk's life and with what she had worked so hard to win, she could not afford to lose now. She could not fail.

Lifting her chin again, she kept her face blank and impassive as she turned to the Great Stair. The Aes Sedai now lined it and must have been channeling, though Nykk could not see it.

The colored flames lit.

It was time.

...the yellow weave...

Nykkolaia lifted her foot onto the first step of the Great Stair, which was made of yellow stone. As she did, darkness closed in around her on all sides. Had she not found steel in her determination just moments before, it would have been enough to press fear into every corner of her body and maybe even drive her to her knees. She would not let it bow her, but she began to doubt even that when a small pit of nausea formed in her stomach. Was her anxiety getting the better of her? The feeling grew and climbed into her throat as heat seemed to permeate the air and press in upon her.

This was part of the test!

The realization didn't help by itself, however. The nausea continued to creep up and strangle her throat into spasm-like coughs as the heat closed in and throttled her. Nykkolaia felt her eyes beginning to water but through the shimmering haze of tears she saw a number built out of yellow flame flash in front of her and she knew what she had to do. She knew what weave needed to be made. Forcing herself to swallow, she fell into saidar.

Utilizing the three elements that she was strongest in, Nykk wove a thick thread of Spirit which intertwined with thin threads of Air and Water. According to her former roommate, who was pursuing the course of the Yellow Ajah, it was similar to a Yellow weave known as Revitalization, but it was one that could be used on one's self, unlike most Yellow weaves. Formed into a net, she let it fall over herself and Refresh her. Instantly, she felt herself feeling well once again.

The weave having been completed, the world shifted and the great yellow stone step vanished.

...the yellow situation...

Nykkolaia found herself walking down a crowded city street. It was a typical roadway of an Andoran town with a bustling population, yet not existing as one of the major powers of the nation. Storefronts lined the lane and the occasional merchant cart spotted the paving stones as they stretched onward throughout the city. It was a warm day and the sun was shining brightly, reflecting upon the last vestiges of a late spring rain that clung to the stones.

A light cloak of deep blue billowed gently behind her as she walked. She had someone to meet and was moving on to her appointment, neither hurrying nor falling behind.

"Please... lady..." It was a tiny voice that came from Nykk's right. There was a sickly cough to follow and blot out any further words. Nykk frowned thoughtfully and moved forward to look around an empty wagon that rested at the mouth of an alley. Huddled in the shadow of the building was a small child. The hair was long and unkempt, greasy and clinging to the skull. The body was so small and frail that it was impossible to tell whether it was a boy or a girl. Cheap brown clothing hung weakly from the body with holes fraying in many places.

Wide brown eyes, piteous and watering, lined with a sickly yellow crust turned towards Nykk as she looked down upon the child and then knelt in front of him, or her. The mouth opened to speak again but was only filled with coughing. In the small hands with knobby knuckles that hinted at previous, improperly healed breaks, there was a roughly cut wooden cup. There were several coins inside the cup which glinted dimly in the light and called her attention to them.

"What's your name, little one?" Nykkolaia asked gently. Her hand, clean and pale and slim, reached out and brushed the dirty hair back away from the child's face. Trails of grease and dirt were left on Nykkolaia's palm, but she didn't notice or care.

"Alleck," he replied and then fell into another cough, which repeated itself until the boy was doubled over and spitting droplets of blood onto the damp paving. Nykkolaia leaned forward to catch him before he collapsed into the fit. Tiny clusters of blood spatter appeared on her otherwise pristine blue dress as the boy continued coughing before finally exhausting himself of all the air in his lungs and energy in his weak muscles.

Any question that she might have asked would have been ridiculous. She would ask him if he had any family, but it was obvious that he didn't. If he did, he would not be sitting alone in a dark alley. The air here was cold because it was out of the sun, and did not allow the rain to fully evaporate. It was so damp that it soaked through the air and the skin of anyone standing in the alley. It must have gotten down to the boy's very soul, if it was already touching Nykk and she'd only been there a few minutes.

"Come," Nykk said. She slid her arms around the boy and lifted him to her hip.

People passing by all turned and looked at her in surprise. They were people who would never have noticed the boy alone, but they noticed the well dressed young woman who now carried him. She met their glances with an impassive stare. Realizing their error, they all had the good manners to look away with embarrassment and go about their business. It allowed Nykkolaia to move unmolested down the street once again, but this time she was going to a healer woman that she knew in town. She knew her appointment would wait. If they didn't, she didn't care.

The house was a small one set amidst the various stores and city dwellings. Its door had a cluster of dried herbs hanging on it and flowerboxes suspended from the window sills that allowed herbs and flowers to grow from them. Nykkolaia lifted her hand and knocked on the door. After several moments, it creaked open.

"What can I do for-" The woman began to ask as the door opened, but she stopped when she saw the odd combination standing on her doorstep. A woman of her middling years, there were already a few streaks of grey in her dark hair and lines curving around the edges of her eyes and mouth. They were pronounced now as her lips turned downward in conjunction with her brow line. "Do you need something?"

"Yes," Nykk replied flatly, just as Alleck - terrified and clinging to Nykkolaia's shoulder - began to cough again. "He needs healing."

The healer frowned. "He is a beggar child," she said with distaste. "He certainly can't afford my services."

Nykkolaia felt her blue eyes turn cold, where before they had been uncertain. She pushed her way past the woman and entered her house without being invited. "You are a healer," she said with a chill in her voice. "It should not matter if your fee can be paid when a child's life is at stake. I suppose I cannot blame you for not going out and seeking them, but when one appears on your own doorstep? You would still deny them your skills and let them die in misery?"

Pursing her lips, the woman's expression clearly stated that she was about to justify herself. "I have to make a living, just like anyone else," she said tartly. "I don't know this child, so why should I feel any obligation towards him?"

"You can look in his eyes and hear his bloody cough," Nykkolaia said. She was shorter than the healer by a small number of inches, but her ire made her seem larger than she was; held behind a passive expression, no one could not feel the heat of her righteous indignation. "You can still deny this child what he needs to live when you stand before him?" Her steps brought her closer to the woman, drawing nearer and nearer. The soles of her boots made a soft tapping against the wood planks of the floor. Her proximity grew quickly ominous and it showed in the healer's face. "How can you do that? Are you no more than a Shadow? Have you no soul?"

The healer woman swallowed audibly. She had seen something in Nykkolaia's eyes. Her eyes had been temporarily glued to the angry red vines crawling up Nykk's face. "I'll treat him," she breathed as shame flooded into her eyes. "There is an illness passing through town which I have the herbs for. His cough sounds like it. I can treat him." She gave a slow nod and then held out her arms. Nykk offered the small boy into them and from the way the woman took him, held him, Nykkolaia knew that she would do as she said.

"See that you do," Nykk said softly. Turning, she started to walk out. As she reached the threshold, she turned her head so that her profile could be seen as she held out her hand and dropped a small but full coin purse on the floor.

She walked out into the street without another word.

...the green weave...

As the emptiness of the Great Stair rose up once again all around her and the city street melted away from her awareness, Nykkolaia could still feel the ire bubbling quietly in her chest. Swallowing hard, she forced it down. That moment was past and she had to focus again. Her serenity must be maintained, even if she did not feel serene. To either side of her, the crackling yellow flames blinked out of sight and Nykkolaia inhaled deeply as she lifted her foot to set upon the next stone. This one was green, and gave her a feeling of foreboding deep within.

The muted sound of wind whistling was the only warning that she had before a blur of silver flew past her, missing by only a hair's breadth. Nykk felt a deep trembling begin in her core as she was forced to pull herself to the left to avoid a second weapon as it flew through the air in her direction. She had to remain calm! She pulled on her staff training to have enough reflexes to miss the weapons long enough to see the burst of flame before her face, illuminating the next number.

Nykkolaia fell into saidar at the same time she nearly fell upon the step. She maintained her balance in both as she held up her hands. Hands of Air, she thought with force and focus, as she channeled 'ropes' of Air. They were not the powerful gusts that some Aes Sedai would be able to create and so she did not knock the weapons from their paths so much as wrapping her weaves around them and yanking them away. There were many and they came fast, but she grabbed each one and tore it away.

Abruptly, the weapons stopped and clattered against stone far ahead of her that she could not see, and the air around her shimmered and shook. Her heart was beating as hard as her blood was pumping, and the world shifted again...

...the green situation...

"...it's not fair!" An impassioned young farmer named Yrel slammed his fist down on the roughly hewn wooden table top.

In the council chamber of the village's town hall, the long rectangular table had its seats filled by the mayor and the village farmers who constituted the town council. It was a small town that subsisted almost entirely on the backs of its farms and farmers, and so it was their voices that were heard on all important matters. The day's difference was that at one end of the table sat a woman who was neither a farmer nor even a citizen of this town.

Nykkolaia sat and listened. Her features were smooth and calm, while her blue eyes missed nothing. It had grown so heated a discussion, and they had grown so used to her presence, that no one cast any more uncertain looks at the scarred woman sitting in their midst. She had been asked to join them, after all, and had no obligation to do so. Yet it was an obligation, to her and to the cause that she had attached herself. She needed to hear them out and have them plead their case.

"We have so little already and now these... fiends come and raid our crops, steal our wares! How are we supposed to survive like this?" Yrel was young. He had only recently inherited the farm after the death of his father, which happened when the elder had tried to fend off a pair of raiders but lacked the skill to do so effectively. He had been killed for his trouble. It was only understandable that the younger man would be particularly emotional about this situation, but Nykk would not be swayed by that to recommend anything too hastily for their own good.

Thrusting himself back into his seat, Yrel looked exactly like he sounded: frustrated, sad, helpless. No one else seemed inspired to speak after that. Eyes began turning towards Nykkolaia.

"You're right," she said softly, evenly. "It isn't fair in the least. The men and women who commit these crimes against you are perhaps needy themselves, but they have chosen a most unjust manner of making a living. They need to be stopped from assaulting your city's denizens, and pillaging the results of your hard labor." Her tone lacked any of the passion of the farmers themselves, but there was something in her bearing that bolstered her words. It gave the villagers a look of hope.

After several moments of silence, a village elder was the first to reply. "How do we do that? If we had the best ideas for how to protect ourselves, we would have already done it."

This brought a very faint smile to the right side of her lips. "Indeed," she said with an inclination of her head in his direction. "I realize that. Understand that my affiliation is not oriented strictly on battle, but I know those who are and will help get things in motion." Leaning forward, she rested her forearms across the tabletop. "First we'll need to start with those who farm on the outlying edges of the village, because they are the ones who will first come in contact with the bandits."

At these words, Yrel stiffened but not with anger. He was simply trying to control the emotions within, for his grief was still running deep and was almost palpable in the room.

"I advise setting up a warning system," she continued. "You will need a way to let the interior of the village know that there is an attack taking place, or that one is possible. This could be the lighting of a fire that others can see, or something related to noise like a bell, or dedicated runners that will be dispatched inward at the sign of trouble. It must be planned, not haphazard." The farmers were nodding slowly. "Secondly, you will need to know how to defend yourselves. I know you all are not warriors, but there are ways to integrate it into your life: such as the use of staves as weapons. They are easy and inexpensive to make, and can be made from the very wood surrounding your village."

Another nod of understanding passed around them, though there remained doubt. She didn't blame them, of course. "That is not something which has passed us by," came from a farmer in his middle years, who seemed to stretch the span between the farming youth such as Yrel and the elders on the other side. "We are not experienced in fighting with them, however."

Nykkolaia nodded. "I understand," she said, "which is why I will be contacting someone I know within the Tower who will be able to help train you in combat with these weapons, as well as ways to fight in groups and against blades." She paused and looked around, noting the surprise and understanding, along with some hints of gratitude. "Further, they will assist you in learning how best to utilize your bows. I know that there are some skilled hunters here and a bow can be most efficient in defending one's self, family and home."

Her final words clearly resonated strongly with the group around the table.

...the blue weave...

In the blink of her eyes, the council chamber vanished and took its desperate occupants with it. The scarred Accepted found herself once again on the step of green stone. The green lights blinked out and Nykkolaia pressed herself to step up onto the next step; the step of blue stone.

Standing on the step in all her serenity like an Aes Sedai that had been frozen in stone was a statue of Lady Justice. In one hand she held a set of scales with a book resting against the other. A band of cloth covered her eyes, yet it was impossible to not get the feeling that she knew everything all the same. It was a sightless gaze that placed great weights upon Nykk's shoulders, yet she could not let it slow or stop her. She turned her attention to the scales, which were terribly unbalanced.

There must be equality for there to be justice, Nykkolaia thought as she began moving the weights so that balance would once more be achieved. She knew instinctively, somehow, that once she had found balance here then her number would be revealed.

Nykkolaia finished her task within moments, expedient yet not frantic. As the scales made a soft clinking noise to say they had found their balance, a number in blue light hovered above the scale that was now properly weighted. She saw it and knew what weave she had to make. Falling for the third time into saidar, she began to weave. First she created parallel lines of Spirit, which she then bordered with a thread of Air. It was a Ward of Awareness, because one could not deliver righteousness without being aware of all the facts.

Completing the weave, she took a breath to prepare for what was to come next...

...the blue situation...

The young woman was clinging with panic to the handful of Nykkolaia's cloak which she had grabbed in passing. Nykk didn't know her name, but there was no mistaking the harrowed look in those dark eyes and the tension screaming in the stiff way she moved. The woman's knuckles were going white from the hard grip she had on the dark blue fabric. Her expression showed no abhorrence or fear at the scars adorning Nykkolaia's face. In fact, she did not even seem to have noticed.

"Please," the woman pleaded. "They will listen to you. In fact, they would do anything that you said!" She spoke with great confidence, but it was clear to Nykk that the confidence was being driven by the terror that lay underneath it. "They are going to kill him if someone doesn't intervene and you're the only one that is left who has the power the do so."

"I will first need to know more," Nykkolaia said in a level voice as she gently removed the woman's hand from her cloak, but then took her by the arm to guide her somewhere they could sit and talk.

With her plea not brushed aside, the woman looked dumbstruck for an instant before she shook it off and let herself by guided. They sat down and she took a deep breath before introducing herself as Hilde. Her father was named Merin and was being held in the city's prison for killing Hilde's husband. Hilde and Merin both defended his actions with declaration that her husband had abused her, beating her regularly, but there was no evidence of this that they could provide the court. Hilde and her husband had lived in a house on the very outskirts of town and Hilde had no friends. She only had her father. No one had ever seen her bruises. She had one on her arm now from the last time her husband had grabbed her and dragged her, but she couldn't prove it had been her husband rather than something else.

It was a compelling case on an emotional level, but Nykk knew that emotion alone did not carry weight in the eyes of the courts. She also knew that it shouldn't, because then miscarriages of her beloved justice would take place regularly - even more often than now - just because one person was a better actor than another. Still, emotion could be used as motivation to learn more. A feeling deep in Nykkolaia believed Hilde and so she agreed to speak with Merin.

"They're going to hang me," Merin said quietly, later, when the two of them - Nykkolaia and Merin - were sitting at a table in a cell. The guard had allowed her to speak to him, but he remained shackled during their conversation.

"I've heard," Nykkolaia said evenly, though not coldly. "You've placed the court in a hard position. They cannot say that you were justified without some sort of proof that what you and your daughter say is true. Your daughter makes a good plea, but children will do what they can to protect their parents. Such loyalty can be turned around and make one doubt the truth of such statements."

Merin clutched his dirty hands together. "A parent must do what he can to protect his child," he said. His voice was tight and his shoulder hunched inward. "The bloody ox kept my daughter isolated from everyone and she was only seen in town when the bruises were not on her face. I was the only one who could come and see her, but that's because I wouldn't let him lock me out." Abruptly, his hands and voice began to tremble. "When she told me about this last time... how he had pushed her down and kicked her stomach because... because she hadn't born him a son..." His voice cracked. "I just lost it and I had to stop him. He couldn't be allowed to do that to her any more. I shouldn't have waited so long."

Her expression softened slightly. "I sympathize, but the point remains. I'm not sure what your daughter thinks I can do for you." Nykk paused. "Justice is blind, but it cannot be served blindly. This is why there is law and it needs to be given a chance to work."

"Don't you think that sometimes the right thing to do is to take the law into your own hands?" Merin asked in a harsh whisper.

"Sometimes extraordinary measures must be taken," she agreed obliquely, "but the law needs to be given a chance to work. That doesn't seem to have been the case here. This was not even a fight, but you hit him while his back was turned to you. Perhaps your actions were righteous, but there need be some kind of evidence to assure that. I don't know you and am only here because I was swayed by your daughter's pleading of your case, but you could both be lying to me and to the court. That's why something by way of proof is needed." She rested her hands on the table and got to her feet. "I'm sorry, but I cannot free you."

Her words were true. There was nothing she could do to set him free, and yet she did have an intrinsic feeling that the story was true. She at least had enough doubt that she didn't believe justice would be served by taking his life.

Nykkolaia sat in the meeting room of the city's magistrate later that evening. She was sitting with serene confidence in a chair across from where he stood, holding a glass of brandy in his hands. He was a tall man, lean to the point of gaunt, with white hair climbing away from his forehead and glasses with fragile rims and easily reflective glass. His white brows were knit towards the bridge of his nose as he peered into the deep golden liquid sitting placidly in his glass.

"He killed a man and there are consequences for that," Nykkolaia said, "but I believe his story and have to wonder if there is room for mercy."

"In confidence," the magistrate began, wearily taking a seat in the chair across from hers, "I believe him as well, but I have to uphold the law and there is no evidence to support his claim." He drew deeply from his glass and leaned his head back. Like many who believed in law and order, and who were charged with its oversight, he looked like a man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders; a man who would not have let that weight go even if given the chance because he believed that he could make a difference in the balance of good and evil at the level of simple humanity. He didn't make it about the Shadow and the Last Battle, but just helping the lives of the people around him.

She admired that.

"Should a man die when there remain doubts?" she asked quietly.

"For someone who looks so young, you are quite the quick thinker," he said with a knowing chuckle, setting his brandy on the table beside his chair and folding his hands over his thin waist. "What if he and his daughter are both lying and we're just falling for a good act? I've seen actors in dramatic reenactments that are very convincing."

Nykk inclined her head in acknowledgement of the possibility. "It could be," she conceded, "but I point out the fact that there is a doubt and a grave one. He could be telling the truth and you would be hanging a man whose only crime is protecting his child, which is a law greater than any of any land. It is quite simply the law of nature, and we are not so foolish to think ourselves above that." The right side of her face curved in the barest of smiles. "I am not saying to set him free, but perhaps he should not die for defending one who could not defend herself."

There was a long pause before the magistrate said anything, but then he gave her a slow smile. Nykk knew what he was going to do, but would not be there in the morning to see the look on Merin and Hilde's face when the court declared Merin guilty, but was not sentenced to death. He would bide a great number of years in prison and at hard labor to work off his debt to their society, but he would live.

An imperfect justice, but a just choice none the less.

...the indigo weave...

There were rocks pressing down upon her shoulders, and against her chest. It was the weight of responsibility and even though the world as it had been moments before vanished in that instant and left her once more alone on the step, the weight did not go with it. In fact, she felt as though it would remain with her for the rest of her days... and as well it should.

Nykkolaia looked beside her as the blue torch extinguished.

Resolutely, she moved onto the next step. Indigo stone was hard beneath her feet and indigo air surrounded her from the torches. She waited, but nothing was happening. It took her that instant to realize just how intense this step felt. There was more heat than before, although not like it had been on the Yellow step. This was different. From either side, the light grew brighter and brighter until suddenly there was a crack and a flash of lighting. It was the color of indigo and it seared her eyes, leaving a briefly lived impression in silver: it was a number.

She opened her arms as saidar filled her. From either side, vaguely beneath each torch, came the sound of buzzing. It was quiet at first, but insistent. The sound grew louder with each breath until like waves crashing on either side of her, yet not touching her body, insects flew up in great clouds. The indigo torches were crackling ominously and the sizzling noise began to sound as though their flames were going to reach right out and take hold of her... and the dark wall of flies blocked their reach.

At the edges of her vision, the flight of these creatures made the world move, but then the moving was something else all together...

...the indigo situation...

It was pure happenstance that Nykkolaia was traveling through this village. It was small and quite out of the way. This made it easily over-looked from the main thruways and to the general traveler. She imagined that anyone not looking to come here rarely ended up here.

Nykk had not been looking for this place and thus had no original intent to be here, but the river had washed out a bridge that spanned the primary road that she had been traveling. This forced her onto a secondary road, which was far less traveled. The dirt was looser and there were more rocks scattered in random patterns. She made sure to slow her horse down to take it more carefully. The hour was growing late and the last thing she needed was for her horse to get hurt. With no skill in gateways or healing, she would be stranded and on foot in the middle of the night.

She arrived at the small village before long and was surprised that there was even a village here. It was, perhaps, something that shouldn't have surprised her, because this wasn't an area of Andor that she was as familiar with as others. She didn't rightly know what villages were or weren't there, only the larger towns and major cities in this area. So, there was a village here, and this was where she was going to need to spend the night. Her trip was being delayed by the detour and she wasn't going to push herself to make a deadline.

After taking a room at the only Inn there was, she purchased a meal in the common room. To her, it seemed more like a farmhouse that had been converted somewhat haphazardly into a place of business, but it suited her purpose.

"Could you help us?"

Nykk looked up to see a man standing beside her table. Until then, she had only been focused on the bowl of mutton stew in front of her and the realization that she was really quite hungry. Her attention was now drawn away, although the smell still tried to get her focus back. She kept it where it was, however, and took in the sight of a man who was not all that tall, but he was solidly built. He brought images of a smithy to her mind and she guessed that he was a blacksmith.

"Might I ask what the problem is?" she asked in a cool, polite tone as she waved at the chair across the table from her.

"Well," he began as he took a seat, folding his hands over each other as they rested on the top of the table. He sucked his lower lip under his teeth for a moment before continuing. "I hope you'll forgive my being rude, but you have a way about you. I hope that you can help us." He swallowed audibly. "You see, two of the village youth were out in the forest about three weeks ago. They were hunting, but they found something other than game. They found a statue of a woman dressed in robes. We didn't think much of it, because it might just have been dropped by travelers. You never know, right?"

Listening patiently, Nykk nodded slowly.

"Since they brought it back to town, though, weird things have been happening. I think that this thing has brought bad luck down on us all!" His expression told her that he really believed what he was saying. "If you could take it away, we'd appreciate it. You'd know better than any of us how to handle a thing like this. We're just simple country people and have no idea what to do with it!"

Apparently it was not her reputation but her demeanor that preceded her, Nykk thought wryly as she listened to his request. Her first reaction was that she really had no idea what to do with such a thing either. It was possible that it was an object of Power, but if that was a case, it might not be a good idea for her to take it. She had no skill or experience with handling undetermined objects of that nature. She was not an Indigo, after all.

Nykk tilted her head and resisted the urge to gaze longingly at her dinner, which was probably going cold at a rapid pace. Instead of sighing, she leaned back in her seat. "I'll do what I can," she said. "What has been happening that makes you believe the statue is adversely affecting your village?" She couldn't, and wouldn't, do anything without more information.

"Well, it started with the boy who found the statue," the man continued. He had yet to offer a name and Nykkolaia had chosen not to ask if he didn't offer. "He was practicing with his bow when the string broke, snapping back and nearly taking out his eye!" His hands grew progressively more active with the telling of the story as he went along. "The other boy who was with him then fell into a hole in the garden and did break his leg."

"No offense, but so far these just sound like unfortunate accidents," Nykk pointed out. Her attention tried to wander to her food again, but she caught herself.

"I know, but they happened in close proximity to finding that statue," he replied. His expression pleaded with her to believe him. "This isn't all either."

Before he could continue, there was another voice intruding. This time it was a young woman with a well fleshed out figure. "It was practically the day after," she said as she took a seat. Her hair was blond and her skin was clear, touched upon only by the sun. She had delicate features and an exceedingly fetching figure in a snug dress. She was the sort of woman that would have made Nykk very uncertain to be around, in the past, but Nykk had grown up. "I was there when they both happened," she said. Her blue eyes were large and convinced.

An idea came to Nykk, but she kept it to herself for now. "Did you speak to them at that time?"

She nodded solemnly. "I did," she said. "I was saying hello, but then they had their accidents and I rushed to help them. We didn't talk much after that."

"I see," Nykkolaia said carefully. "You said that other things have happened?"

"Old Man Wilson lost both his prize pigs just two days after that," the girl continued. Nykk's expression prodded her wordlessly to continue. "They just dropped dead, right there in the yard. No one knows why that happened." She paused, blinking those large innocent eyes. "Oh, and the day before that, Farmer Jen's crops all died from some fungus. That's never happened before."

The first man spoke again, "That wasn't just a blow to him but to all of us," he said. "Most of the livestock farmers get their feed from him for when the animals can't graze. Now we're going to have to travel to the next village over to get feed and the farmers there are quite arrogant. They think we can't produce anything good here because we're such a small village." He frowned. "One of their men was here just a while ago and was trying to convince us that we should buy the produce from his town."

"Was this about three weeks ago?" Nykkolaia asked.

The man blinked. "Yes it was," he said with surprise. "How did you know that?"

Both of them were looking at her in surprise, and perhaps a little suspicion. She smiled very faintly, with the right side of her face at least. "About three weeks ago, you had a man visit who insisted that you buy crops from his town," she said. "A couple of days later, the primary feed for your town's livestock grew some kind of diseased fungus that forced you to buy crops from his town. That feed had undoubtedly already been sold to Farmer Wilson, who fed it to his pigs. They died like the crops." She turned her attention to the girl.

"You happened to be walking by young men while they were working, and you said hello," she continued, "and they got distracted because you are a rather attractive young woman. They were distracted and accidents happened." Realization began to slowly dawn over each of their faces. "I doubt this had anything to do with the statue, but it was a good thing to blame."

The man laughed sheepishly. "I can see that now," he said and got to his feet. "Thank you." Looking embarrassed, he walked away. The girl just nodded and followed.

Finally, Nykkolaia was able to eat her dinner.

...the brown weave...

The taste of mutton stew was still on her tongue as she returned to the emptiness around her and the indigo step beneath her. The insects were gone and the torches were visible for a moment before they blinked out.

Nykkolaia lifted her feet onto the brown stone. She was moving slowly closer to the top and so far had not fallen off. The confidence and wisdom she seemed to feel in each of these... other places... resonated deeply within her, though it was not fully in her grasp as she set her feet onto each step. Yet even so, she managed to retain the calm that she needed. Her grace had not yet abandoned her and she was able to face the challenge of the fifth step with her chin raised and her eyes open.

Coming fully onto the next stair, she was surrounded by the light from the brown torches. In front of her, she saw a book. It was large and seemed to be suspended in the air. She knew that the number she needed would be in there, but as she drew near she saw that the pages were filled with a language that she didn't know. It looked ancient. She turned the page to see if there would be anything familiar on the pages to follow, but as she touched the aged parchment, they each began to crumble. Nykk inhaled sharply, but had to continue.

She felt a sort of panic in the pit of her stomach, but she could not allow herself to give into it!

Dust flew up from the pages of the book as she turned them. It started with a scratch in her throat and then a stinging in her eyes. She tried to keep a cough down in her throat and peer through the watering of her eyes. Then she saw it: there was a number in the corner of that page, hidden as though it was a page number! She was able to spot it just before it began to crumble and she knew what the weave was.

Quickly, she embraced saidar and reached for the element that she was the deftest with, which was Spirit. She crisscrossed threads of Spirit rapidly around the whole of the book, making a tightly contained weave that sunk around it. As it settled, the crumbling stopped and the remaining pages and text were contained. As she tied off the weave, she felt a trembling within as she took in a breath of clean air...

...the brown situation...

"Why should I?"

Nykkolaia felt her composure slip. It was only a slight slip which was demonstrated through a frustrated sigh, but it remained a break in her serenity. Inwardly she chided herself as she took a deep breath to take back what had momentarily slipped away. Her hands curved around the back of the chair she stood behind while she gazed across the small sitting room at the aged - daresay, ancient - man that toddled around with a kettle in his hand. Who could guess that someone so frail-seeming had a mental constitution of iron?

Straightening her spine, she took another breath. "Sir, it was not my idea to come here, but you are obviously one who values knowledge. If you didn't, you wouldn't have kept a record of all of these things in history." She was trying an appeal that was both logical and sentimental. "In the Grey Tower, the Ajah of Knowledge has the same affection for knowledge and they would like to request that you share yours with them." Her tone was persistent and just barely this side of pleading.

This really was not her ideal situation. Why she had been sent on a mission for the Brown when she was dedicated to the Blue, she had no idea... but here she was. Following a tip that this man existed here in the Black Hills, Nykk had been so dispatched to speak with him and see if she could gain his knowledge and perhaps permission for others to come as well.

What hadn't been said in the missive that drove her here was that this man was two thousand years old and the most stubborn mule that ever lived. In fact, Nykk had met mules who seemed as malleable as bread pudding compared to this man. She had, in essence, repeated the same argument in several different ways with the same result. Don't the Yellows say that the definition of insanity is repeating the same actions over and over, but expecting different results? She certainly felt crazy right then, but she didn't want to fail. She didn't want to leave without achieving her goal, because this would not only be a failure before her own Ajah but before another as well.

Nykkolaia was determined to not allow that to happen.

The old man turned towards her after hanging the kettle on the iron hook and swinging it over the fire, crossing his arms, he placed his ancient gaze upon her. This time, he asked a question that was different from the same stubborn and petulant response that he had been giving this entire time.

"What do I get for it?"

Apparently she had become very stubborn in her own right, because his change in direction caught her off guard and she didn't have a response as quick as her other responses had been. She paused and blinked at him. Finally, her brain kicked in again and she asked, "What do you want?"

He gave her a toothless grin as he made his way to the table and took a seat. He waved at the chair she was gripping the back of so hard and nodded for her to take a seat as well, which she did. The crackle of the fire behind her was suddenly very loud and the heat was pressing while she waited to hear what his answer was going to be. "I collect stories," he said. "You," he reached out a gnarled finger and touched the scars on Nykk's face, which she was too surprised to jerk away from, "have a story to tell."

Nykkolaia certainly hadn't been expecting that.

"Why would you want to hear my story?" she asked. Despite the serenity she knew she needed to hold on to, she couldn't keep her surprise from showing. Rationally, she knew the answer. People were curious by nature and she knew people wanted to know why her face looked the way it did, but few actually came right out and asked. She rarely offered.

He didn't even answer. Instead, his wrinkled lips curved knowingly.

She frowned at his arrogance but let out a breath. "All right," she said. "I will tell you, but only in trade. It is not an enjoyable tale."

The grin faded as he nodded. "I can imagine," he said. Pushing himself up in a wobbling manner, he toddled over to a corner table. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a ragged leather-bound book. "Your …Ajah of whatever might have trouble reading my old hand, but everything I have learned is in this book and you can take it back to them. It all is also in my mind, so you can tell them that whoever wants to see me can come along and talk to me." He grinned again as he returned to the table and set the book down in front of her. "I promise, however, that I won't necessarily be any friendlier with them than with you." He winked. "And it may not be free."

Resting her hands upon the top of the book, she briefly felt that she understood what a Brown must feel because she was filled with a reverence for all that this book contained.

"I was fourteen," she began. Her eyes remained on the book as she took in a deep and thoughtful breath, her mind moving back in time to so many years ago. "I was in Caemlyn, because that was where I had grown up. The street was crowded..."

...the grey weave...

The warmth of the small cabin in the Black Hills blended away and vanished into the darkness surrounding the Brown step. Torches sputtered as they went out with a quiet whisper and she ascended onto the Grey step. There was a feeling of distant sorrow that had settled over her like a cloak. She tried to ignore it, because she knew that it was born of dredged up memories and nothing that had anything to do with this.

Nykk looked at the grey torches as they leapt to life. Stepping into the center of the stair, she saw a rolled piece of parchment on a pedestal.

She walked towards it and picked it up. It didn't disintegrate, which she was grateful for. Unrolling it, she found that it was a peace treaty. There was a great deal of legalese that was beyond her scope of experience, but she knew that she might spend a lot of time looking at things like these over the course of her years... if she passed this test. Not as much as the Greys, but enough as it was. She would need to understand.

As her eyes continued to scan through the document, one phrase towards the end caught her attention and she knew it was the one she sought: "...and seven times seven years…" The number that she needed was in that phrase and she embraced saidar.

Holding up the parchment with one hand, she spread the other over the document. Her palm hovered just above it but without touching it. She laid a flow of Earth followed by enough Water to match, lining it with Spirit and tying it off. The weaving settled over it, leaving it unreadable to all but her, and as it did, the parchment vanished and the world shifted once again...

...the grey situation...

Nykkolaia was not comfortable in a palace setting, but it was unavoidable in some occasions. It was unavoidable on this one and so she was in the Palace of Caemlyn. The fact that it was Caemlyn didn't actually do much to help her mood about it. She had been back to the city since she was a girl, but her mood sank every time.

Walking through the palace corridor, her ears were caught by the sound of shouting from one of the large chambers used to hear disputes. The voices were unmistakably male. There was a resonance to both voices that made Nykk believe both were men used to being obeyed by large numbers; men of great power. What were these men fighting over in the palace? The thick walls muffled the sound enough to keep her from hearing their words. She could only hear the tones.

She didn't think it was any of her business and so she continued walking, but before she could get very far, the door to her right burst open and a man in a Cairheinin military uniform spilled out in front of her. He was bustling and glaring back through the door with such anger that he didn't even seem to notice that she was there until he finally turned. His gaze fell on her and he blinked.

"I'm sorry," he said with an inclination of his head.

"Is there a problem?" she asked in a smooth voice. Her eyes looked towards the open door to indicate what she meant.

He looked like he was going to brush her aside, but then thought better of it. "Come in," he said, gesturing her to follow him. She did, though with confidence rather than obedience. She wanted to know what was going on, and perhaps she could help. "I'm sorry to say that some of my men were caught burglarizing towns along the border. It's a dark mark against me and my army. I want to take them back to Cairhien to face a proper military tribunal." He turned to look at the other man, who stood with the same bristling expression.

"The crime happened here!" the man, dressed in a uniform of the Andoran army, declared. "They should be tried for their crimes here." He folded his arms across his chest in a defensive manner. "We have been... discussing this matter all morning and cannot seem to come to an arrangement."

Nykkolaia realized that it was a reasonable question and that both men had claim. They were perhaps going about it like children, but it wasn't an irrational argument.

"Do you have any wisdom to impart on the matter, perhaps?" the Cairhienin General asked.

In her youth, such a question would have terrified her. Now, however, it was her duty and her obligation to assist in such matters when it was asked of her. Not that this was a happy matter to be involved in, especially when the presence of these two men dwarfed her small frame... but she could not be swayed by such matters or perceptions. "If I do, will you abide by it?" she asked flatly. Her eyes looked at each one of them in turn, waiting for their answer.

The two men exchanged a look, almost like children that had been broken apart in the middle of an argument, but then each of them nodded.

"Justice belongs to the ones that were wronged," she said simply. "The right to seek justice, or to defer it to another, belongs to Andor." The Andoran General began to puff himself up but she held up a hand. "It is nothing to boast over, General. The dispensation of justice should be a solemn duty and not something to rejoice in." He deflated and nodded.

She imagined that the Cairhienin General had looked disappointed, but by the time she turned around, his face was blank once again.

...the white weave...

The palace vanished around her as the grey torches extinguished.

Nykkolaia felt a chill settle into her as she realized that she was about to step onto the final step. She could not let herself fall behind and so she took that step. White surrounded her with white stone beneath her feet and near-blinding white light from the torches beside her. She looked forward with as much resolution as she could and she watched the step suddenly stretch out before her into a large platform that extended beyond where her eye could see.

In the center was a small glowing number... but she could not make out what it was.

Taking a step forward, she only just barely caught her balance as the platform broke apart underneath her feet. A shock ran through her and she only barely managed to keep her balance and her calm as her toes dangled over the edge. She stared down into the abyss, like she used to stare into the shredded remnants of her life. Yet, she was no longer that girl. She could do this.

She looked over the other pieces of the platform and stepped onto the next, but the pattern changed and she was disoriented. How was she to get to the number?

After a moment to breathe and listen to the pattern of her heartbeat, she knew that she would get to the other side the same way she had through these last, difficult years of her life: one step at a time. She set her foot onto the next closest and waited as they shifted. Each time, she chose the stone that was the closest on the path she needed to take and then waited patiently for the shifting before taking the next and soon, she could read the number.

Nykkolaia embraced saidar and channeled. Tiny threads of Air and Fire intertwined and formed a ball, and that ball cast a brilliant light out over the shattered platform. The light was bright and it seemed to flow all around her, slowly uniting the broken white steps into a singular form once more. She had time to take a deep breath before the world shifted, for what would be the final time...

...the white situation...

The room was not what she would have expected for a Brother of the White Ajah, but then she had probably been giving into conjecture and stereotype to think otherwise. Nykkolaia had never really known a member of the White, or even one of its Aspirants. Therefore, she really had had little basis to form any guess on what the sitting room would be like that belonged to a member of the Ajah of Logic. She was a little surprised at having been invited to speak with him in the first place, but had accepted the invitation.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked politely as she took her seat in a chair of fine, rich red wood and dark grey cushions.

"Yes," she replied, "thank you."

She was surrounded by what she could only call a luxuriously furnished room. The materials were all fine and finely wrought. They looked expensive, but tasteful. Nykk herself could never have put a room like this together, because she was poor at choosing when it came to aesthetics. She was far too pragmatic for such things, but that actually made her sad. The scarred woman wished that she could have been more... artistic, of a sort. She could recognize artistry, even color, from her time in her father's shop, but she struggled to put such things together on her own as an adult.

Accepting the pale grey china tea cup, she leaned back into her seat and blew off the steam before taking a sip. "If it would not be rude, Brother, might I ask why I was invited her today?"

"It is a valid question," he agreed as he took his own seat. He didn't answer right away, taking a moment to sip his tea as well. She didn't rush him and waited with patience for his response. After several contemplative moments, he continued. "I wanted to share a discussion with you," he said. "You could call it a... philosophical discussion, of a sort."

"That still bears the question of why you asked me," Nykk pointed out. A tilt of her head was the only sign of her surprise, and curiosity. "I am not a White, so philosophy and logic are a little out of my purview. I am not even an Indigo, so theories and conjecture are not my strong suit either. I tend to prefer the literal."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I understand that," he said, "but you have something that not many others do, and it pertains to my conversation." Leaning forward, he set the teacup on the table and then leaned back in his chair, putting his fingers into a steeple before his face. For several long moments, his dark eyes only regarded her and she met his gaze evenly. "I want you to know that I speak to you now in confidence," he went on, "and in simple theory."

Curious, she inclined her head in assent to that.

"In my studies and suppositions, a strange thought had begun to enter my mind," he said. "I begin to wonder if it would not be the more rational decision to side with the Shadow instead." He held up his hand against what he must have seen flash through her eyes. "Again, theories only and hear me out before you condemn me for my openness."

Despite the urge otherwise, she held her tongue. The bluntness of his statement had shocked her, but that was perhaps a clue that he was just interested in a discussion on theories. If he remained bound to the Light, the Oaths forced truth from his words... yet if not... For the moment, she chose to not consider that too deeply and to afford him the benefit of the doubt.

"In studying the great many ways the forces of the Light have been blocked or subverted from their course by the various ethical substructures that have been placed on us, we seem to only make the end goal all the more difficult to attain. If a goal is subsequently impossible, and because of our own doing, then what is the logic in trying to attain it at all? Besides, one must look at how ethics vary from culture to culture. Perhaps the Shadow is simply another culture.

"Look at what they are able to achieve because they are not so constrained," he went on. Leaning forward, he took up his tea again and sipped from it. He was the perfect image of poise and serenity, despite the blasphemous nature of his... theorizing. "Let us take you for an example."

Nykk felt as though her blood had just turned to ice.

"From what I know of where you achieved those scars," he said, pointing at her face, "I know that they came because a man was curious for knowledge. He chose to take that knowledge by any means necessary, and yes, it caused you some pain, but you survived and he obtained what he wished in an expedient amount of time."

"Did he?" Nykk asked blandly after several long moments. She set her tea down and got to her feet. "He died for that knowledge and the way he chose to take it. I'll never know what he learned, or if it was what he wanted. He didn't live long enough to use it, or celebrate long. I won't know if it was worth it. That's the price, and that's the downfall." She began to leave. If he was a member of the Black Ajah, he might very well kill her. She was not well known in the Tower and had few, if any, that she would inform of her whereabouts... but she couldn't listen to any more.

Pausing at the door, having survived this far, she paused and looked back at him. "The Shadow is not the rational choice, nor is it simply another culture. Any means necessary does not, in the end, mean efficiency, or victory. It usually only means death." She opened the door, with every plan to discuss this meeting with the First Selector. "Thank you for the tea."

She walked out.


Abruptly, the world changed in a flash of white light.

Nykkolaia stumbled forward a single step and lifted her face to see the round white chamber with its flood of candle light. There was no warmth in the room or in her as everything rushed into her mind and everything coalesced into singular coherence. Where only remnants had remained from one step to the next, now everything was there. The trembling began on the inside and tried to break free. She almost fell to her knees, but managed to keep herself upright.

"It is done," Zaephra Sedai said with a clap of her hands. "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." She clapped again. "It is done." She clapped a third time and it echoed through out the room with a heavy tone of finality.

An unfamiliar Sister of the Yellow Ajah stepped forward and asked with kind informality, "Will you accept Healing, child?" Her eyes were a dull blue, but filled with compassion and warmth. Swallowing hard, Nykkolaia nodded shakily for she did not trust her voice. The Yellow took her face in her hands and the scarred woman was plunged into ice. Exhaustion screamed in every muscle. The Healing was done.

There came another voice. "Who comes here?" she intoned.

"I am Nykkolaia Zeran," she replied with all the strength she could dig from deep down inside.

"For what reason do you come?"

"To swear the Three Oaths, and thereby claim the shawl of an Aes Sedai." Her voice tried to tremble with disbelief as she spoke the words, but she would not allow it.

"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."

As the fog of fatigue passed from Nykkolaia's mind, she could now clearly see the face of the Amyrlin Seat standing ahead of her. Pride at having reached this moment filled Nykk with renewed vigor and she moved forward to stand before Crysthia Sedai. Beside her was Zarishka Sedai, the Keeper of the Chronicles, and Durent Asha'man, the M'Hael, on the other side. Surrounding the walls were the Ajah Heads and their Sitters. She should have felt meek in the presence of such greatness and yet she didn't. Their presence was an acknowledgement of what she had done.

Nykkolaia knelt before the Amyrlin.

Stepping forward, the Keeper bore the Oath Rod upon a cushion. The Amyrlin reached out to take it and she waited the moment it took Nykk to bring her hands up and open for the ter'angreal to be placed upon her bare palms. Saidar surrounded Crysthia Sedai and she wove a thin thread of Spirit as Nykkolaia closed her hands, feeling the weight of the Oath Rod therein.

"Repeat after me: Under the Light, by my hope of salvation and rebirth I swear to speak no word that is untrue."

"Under the Light, by my hope of salvation and rebirth I swear to speak no word that is untrue."

As the last word left her lips, Nykkolaia felt the weight of that Oath settle onto her. Never would she speak a lie, if ever she was even inclined to. The great weight of responsibility that had come to her earlier now settled once more upon her shoulders, but she bore it willingly and even gratefully.

"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow to make no weapon with which one man may kill another."

"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow to make no weapon with which one man may kill another."

The Oath closed in around her and her skin grew tight.

"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow never to use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, in the last defense of my own life, that of my Warder, or that of another Brother or Sister of the Grey Tower."

"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow never to use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, in the last defense of my own life, that of my Warder, or that of another Brother or Sister of the Grey Tower."

The last words were uttered and the Oaths had now encased her in their Power. She took in a deep breath, but almost shuddered with the experience of breathing under such a weight.

"It is half done. The Grey Tower is graven on your bones," the Amyrlin continued as she took back the Oath Rod and returned it to its place upon the cushion. "Rise now, Aes Sedai, and choose your Ajah and take your place among us, and all will be done that may be done under the Light." Nykkolaia rose smoothly to her feet, curtseying and giving her proper show of respect for the Amyrlin before turning to face the semi-circle of Ajah Heads and Sitters.

Without hesitation, she moved to the members of the Blue Ajah.

All the others slowly made their way from the chamber, pausing to curtsey or bow before the Amyrlin and M'Hael, before they too made their exit. Nykkolaia was left alone with those she wished to join. She stood directly before Storm Ananke, the First Selector. The four watched her impassively yet keenly too. She felt their gaze like an intense wave of heat as she knelt.

"I am called to you, and answer my calling now," Nykkolaia said. "I pray you, accept me as a Sister."

Storm Sedai nodded. "Then rise, Sister," she said and the eldest of the Sitters stepped forward to drape the blue-fringed shawl over Nykk's shoulders. Had she not worked hard to keep her composure, she just might have cried. The others came forward and each kissed both of her cheeks, even the scarred one, and said, "Welcome home, Sister. We have waited long for you." The sense of belonging enveloped her and almost made her forget all the trials that came before it.

The First Selector turned to the eldest Sitter. "I charge you: escort her so that the Grey Tower may see that our Sister has come home." The small processional departed the great chamber and treaded through clear hallways until they would arrive at Nykk's new quarters, in the Halls of the Blue Ajah. The call was given as they processed and she could almost hear it as it echoed: "We have a new Sister."

Nykkolaia Zeran had triumphed. She was an Aes Sedai.