Fanfic:One Story Ends, Another Begins
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Mirin’s room was small and poorly decorated. Yet it was luxurious compared to the room that Mirin had shared with Betrys as a novice. A small, square Taraboner rug woven in faded blue and green stripes covered the floor, and the mirrored washstand in the corner held a chipped white pitcher sitting in the washbasin. The bed was wide, its covers neatly tucked in.
Mirin sat at her desk, her pen flowing smoothly over the pages of the journal. A globe of light woven from saidar hovered over her papers, while short lengths of logs burned merrily in the fireplace, warming her back. Her long black hair flowed down her back in a tangle of slightly damp curls. She enjoyed writing her thoughts each night while she waited for her hair to dry before going to bed.
Today, I am twenty-two years old. If I were not able to touch the Power, I would be married and have at least one child by now. It is strange to think that I have been a student for over seven years; three in novice white and four as an Accepted. And even stranger to think that when I think of the name ‘Mother,’ I think of the face of the Amyrlin. It has been seven years since I last saw my mother. I have not forgotten her face – but the Tower has shaped me and changed me.
She tapped her lip thoughtfully, carefully considering her next words. Her papers were always innocuous, the words displaying an Accepted who worked hard and kept her head down. She did not dare to write any of her secrets, not even in cipher.
It would be useful if she dared to write down some of her more dangerous thoughts. But even ciphers could be broken.
It is humbling to look back and see how far I have come. It doesn’t seem so long ago that I took my first class on the One Power with Taylin Sedai. And now, I myself have taught dozens of students. Although I am quite certain that I will not join the Brown, I would love to continue teaching in the future.
Mirin studied the page, and then nodded in satisfaction. She sanded the page to dry the ink and then placed the journal neatly among the other books on her shelf.
The next day, Mirin rose an hour before Early. She washed the sleep from her face, and then deftly lined her eyes with a dark charcoal pencil. She shaped her brows and applied a soft eye shadow and blush. Mirin was naturally pale, and the blush put some much-needed color in her cheeks. This morning routine was one of the small luxuries that the Accepted could afford.
She vigorously brushed her hair, but her wild curls remained untamed. No matter, she thought, looking at her reflection in the mirror. Men seemed to like the disarray. She smiled prettily, and then went downstairs to the dining hall.
After breakfast, she returned to her room to brush her teeth. Then, she went to infirmary.
She found her mentor and curtsied. “Good morning, Aria Sedai.”
“Good morning, child. Here,” the Yellow sister shoved a stack of papers into Mirin’s arms. Mirin knew her tasks – after all, she had spent nearly every morning in the last four years working here. She sorted the papers quickly to find her list of patients.
Soon, she was speaking with a young couple. The woman was holding a newborn. But her hair was limp and unwashed and her expression was dull. Although the baby looked clean and well-cared for, the husband was obviously distressed.
Mirin spoke softly, compassionately. She had seen this too often. “A newborn is a big change. And like any change, it can be stressful on you, on her, and on your relationship.”
“Can you do something for her, Aes Sedai?” the young man begged. “I’ll give anything at all – anything! – to have my wife back.”
Mirin did not correct him. The people who came to the Tower for help could rarely differentiate between an Accepted and a full sister. All they saw was the Great Serpent ring gleaming on her hand. Instead, she observed the wife for a few moments. The woman stared listlessly off into the corner of the room.
“Let me speak with her. Alone.”
The man left to stand in the hall.
“Tell me how you feel,” said Mirin.
The woman shook her head, and her gaze remained distant. Mirin made a small notation on her paper to record this response. Then, she embraced saidar and began to weave. Compulsion could be used like a hammer, to wipe a person of personality and memories; but it could also be used delicately to manipulate emotions, modify memories, and persuade.
Mirin had spent the last four years specializing in these delicate details.
She settled the weave on the woman’s mind and gave it a gentle nudge. “I am here to listen,” she told the woman. “Tell me how you feel.”
The woman sighed. Then finally, she spoke.
“What’s the point? Nothing will change. I thought that I would be happy with the baby. But now, every day, Esteban gets up early in the morning to work. Then he goes to drink and gamble with his friends and comes home late at night. And then he wants to have me in bed and I…I’m worn out from taking care of the baby and the house all day. I can’t do it any more. I can’t!
“I’m tired all the time. He tells me that I should meet with other mothers, but I hate it! I hate it! It’s horrible, but I hate being a mother. I don’t want to meet with other mothers. I don’t want to talk about poop and spit and diapers and breast milk. I don’t want to do any of this anymore! I wish it would all go away. I wish it would all end.”
She bowed over, buried her hands in her face, and began to wail. Mirin quickly wove a ward of silence and then moved to hug the woman. She made comforting sounds as she rocked the woman.
“Hush…hush…it will be okay, Annie. It will be okay…”
As she spoke, she wove. Saidar spilled from her in a torrent, the flow splitting into dozens of delicate strands. Her weave became more elaborate, glimmering like gossamer thread. Fine strands of Spirit interspersed with elements of Water and Air. Sometimes Mirin wondered if her childhood as the daughter of the seamstress had anything to do with her skill in this delicate, lace-like weave. Most likely not – but still, she wondered.
Half an hour later, after many tears, confessions, apologies, and gentle prods with Compulsion, the woman and her husband walked out of the infirmary. Both smiled ear-to-ear.
At the end of the day, Mirin returned to Aria Sedai’s office. She placed her paperwork on the sister’s desk for her to review. In return, the Aes Sedai handed her a book. The leather was so new that it hadn’t even creased. Mirin turned it over in her hand to read the spine.
“It has been a pleasure working with you, Mirin,” said the Yellow sister. She spoke carefully, as though she had rehearsed every word. “This book is a culmination of years of dedication. I hope that you won’t mind that your name is missing from the cover. Within the field, my name is much more recognized. And besides, I think that with your Talent, you would want to avoid… attention.”
Mirin stared at the book in her hand. A Handbook on Clinical and Experimental Psychology, edited by Arianne Seladrin Sedai. At least Aria hadn’t had the gall to name herself as the author. She flipped open the cover page, and found her own name listed in tiny print among the “contributors.”
A contributor? Mirin had written nearly the entire blasted book! Her hand trembled. But there was nothing she could do. Not now, not as a mere Accepted. Aria had boxed her neatly into a corner.
“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied. Her tone was polite, if slightly subdued. “I will see you tomorrow.” She offered a thin smile.
Her mentor’s answering smile was just as cold. Mirin left for lunch.
She ate quickly and alone, her nose buried in a book as usual. As she left the dining hall, the Mistress of Novices appeared. She was wearing her indigo-fringed shawl.
It became apparent that the Aes Sedai was heading her way. Mirin dropped a curtsy. Perhaps Illyria Sedai had another novice whom she wanted Mirin to teach; but then why would the sister be wearing her shawl? A sudden thought flashed into Mirin's head and she barely had time to gasp before the Mistress of Novices stopped in front of her.
A steady stream of students split around them, like the waves of the ocean folding around a rock, but Mirin did not notice. Her attention remained focused on Illyria.
“Mirin Ronaile,” Illyria Sedai said formally, “you are summoned to be tested for the shawl of an Aes Sedai. The Light keep you whole and see you safe.”
