Fanfic:Only As Much

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Only As Much
Author(s)
  • Saraid Mahara (author)
Character(s)
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Saraid smiled fondly at her Warder. Davarin, now Head of the Yellows, was attempting to explain to a young novice why one did not rely simply on the One Power to Heal. Finally, the novice nodded and trotted off in search of library resources for further explanation. "Another who believes that the One Power is omnipotent, darling?" she asked smilingly. She was immensely proud of the man who had taught her the theory of Healing and found an Aes Sedai who helped her to harness and train her Healing talents.

"Exactly so, Saraid," he replied, winking at her. "Fortunately, there have only been three this season - rather easily turned in the right direction." He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a quick hug. "I remember -for all your knowledge with herbs - you thought the same before I told you otherwise."

"And I still wouldn't believe until you gave me four examples of why - I was very doubtful, and I didn't even like you." She laughed at her own scepticism and naivety. "One," she ticked them off on her fingers. "Marin Sedai of the Salidarian Aes Sedai burnt herself out attempting to save a village from red fever and wouldn't accept that herbs could easily heal as well as she. Then there was Joenir of the Blue Ajah with unusual Talent for someone outside the Yellow kindred who was very good with his establishing of clinics in the cities - he wouldn't let any of his Talented channelling nurses use herbs in the fear that it would make them distrust their own abilities."

"And Dayna Misrin Aes Sedai of the White Tower who taught that herbs leeched Power from the Healer and therefore theorised that herbs were far more dangerous than overdrawing on the One Power," added Davarin, gently marking another on Saraid's fingers.

"Finally there was Raedan Sedai from the Age of Legends. For all the Talents lost, and technology departed, who believed so wholly in the power of links that he burnt out an entire circle of nine - for the Age of Legends this was unheard of. Hushed up and locked away in the secret files - which the previous Heads of the Yellow Ajah recovered and kept to warn of such folly." Saraid nodded in approval of the wise acts and forethought of the Yellow Aes Sedai who had done so. "I was mollified then, hey?" Her Warder nodded, laughing at the stubbornness of his Sedai.

Saraid glared at the man before her and embraced the source, laying the weaves to relieve the bruising and minor lacerations on his shoulder. "You shouldn't have done this just to give me a chance for a hands-on experience."

"And theory would have been enough, Saraid?" the Yellow Asha'man replied patiently. The Sister, who's shawl was fringed yellow, on his other side watched closely as the defiant Accepted channelled. Her teaching was at test here.

"Well, you could have found someone who had hurt themselves naturally - not thrown yourself down the northern stairwell!" she retorted.

"Ah, but is there anyone in the Tower hurt at present who does not require a Healer of greater strength and Talent than you possess so far?" The reprimand was not forceful but it was firmly put. Did Saraid detect a trace of fondness in the Asha'man's voice?

"Now, lay the tiniest weave of water over the Air and Spirit," continued the woman. "Then pull the loose parts of the weave - yes, like that. And so, the bruise is Healed."

Saraid looked in astonishment at the clear skin on the woman's arm. "I did that . . . ? Took your bruise from you?"

"Yes," the Aes Sedai and Asha'man at her side replied, almost in unison. Then the man continued, "you're making great progress, and Camila Sedai's teaching is to be commended."

"I can't. I won't!" claimed Saraid for the ninth time that sevenday. "it's far too hard. Why do I have to learn anyway? I'm trained enough for the Shawl, and the Tower has enough Healers."

"An Accepted must be trained to her utmost, fully prepared for the Shawl was what you were told. Trained entirely, to earn the Shawl," explained Camila Sedai as Davarin nodded.

"Your Talents and gifts must be refined so that you can get the utmost from them when needed," the Asha'man told her.

"-think she has the Talent, perhaps only a little, but worth enough to train." There were murmured sounds of agreement from the others in the room. "I'll take her on, if there is no one to spare-"

"But no man can teach a woman. It simply doesn't work!" protested the Mistress of Novices, her voice easily recognised.

Through the crack in the door, Saraid watched the man raise a hand for silence. "Patience, Amora. I can recruit Camila Sedai when she returns from Cairhien."

"I can't see that little Aiel minx submitting to more training than she has to necessarily go under to attain the shawl, Davarin," replied the second Sister. "Saraid hardly has enough patience to play a game of patience!" she continued snippily.

Saraid frowned and glared through the thin slit between the door and wall at the woman. "Aiel minx indeed! If she were wedded to the spear, I'd teach her a lesson or two!" she swore.

Saraid touched the bruise on her young niece's arm, wishing it were gone. There was a rush- and then . . . "What did you do to me, Saraid?" asked Jenofe. "My bruises are gone! What have you done! Where are they? They should still be here!" The red haired girl's voice rose hysterically until she pushed Saraid away and ran off crying.

"Come, child," a Wise One commanded, three steps away form Saraid. "You must come and learn-"

"No! I won't learn tricks, do you hear me?" Saraid snapped, rising to her feet and running away. "I won't!" she declared.

"I've been so stubborn all my life . . . still, I'm easy to quell compared to some novices. I wanted to do only as much as was required to attain the Shawl," she continued. "I remember eavesdropping on your little committee as you debated whether to train me or not - and hearing you offer to take me on. Not to mention being called an Aiel minx by that old harridan."

"Yes, Raoke Sedai was rather sour wasn't she," smiled Davarin. "Still, you learnt in the end. An Accepted must be trained to her utmost, fully prepared for the Shawl was what you were told. Trained entirely, to earn the Shawl."