Fanfic:Surrender
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Duty. Responsilibity. Were it not for those two words, Liaran would not be standing here in the Channeling Yards at all. She wasn't here because she truly desired to channel, but because she'd done it already, and been given no other choice. The Sea Folk girl was aware of two times in her life that she reluctantly admitted she might have channeled, and both had brought out a destructive side she did not know she had. It scared her, were she to be completely honest, though she would not be telling Zaephra Sedai how anxious it made her to be here. She had to learn, it was her responsibility to control herself, if channeling this was, but Liaran still wished she could have nothing to do with it.
She waited, shifting from side to side without realizing what she was doing. The Mistress of Novices couldn't possibly be late to this lesson, one she'd taken such a personal interest in. She had said she was going to work on breaking Liaran's "block", whatever that meant. Thimelle had explained it, but Liaran did not believe anything the Accepted said. She thought she could trust Zaephra Sedai. Maybe.
Liaran would have felt more confident about that had the Aes Sedai not given her such a harsh punishment for something over which she had no control. It had been easy to think carrying rocks a simple task, and it was, but the detestable Asha'man had made her carry them for hours! It was a wonder to her that she was able to use them at all at the moment. I hope this block breaking doesn't require much lifting, or I'll never manage. The mental complaints of her punishment provided a neat distraction from her fears about the upcoming lessons. Only the soft sound of footsteps told her someone was approaching.
The novice looked up, dark eyes searching the area until they fixed on the figure of Zaephra Sedai coming into view. As the woman got close enough, Liaran slid her foot back as she had been taught to offer a curtsy. It was shaky, but she held it as deeply as any of the other novices she'd seen. Eyes lowered now in imitation of a proper novice, the Sea Folk girl awaited her permission to rise so her lesson could begin.
She nodded her head and gave the command to rise curtly. Carving an hour from her day for a troublesome novice had led to more complications than she wished to handle, but Zaephra Wyrd had never been the sort to give promises she didn't intend to try to keep. She had this hour if she rearranged all the others, and anyway, getting poisoned daily at lunchtime was beginning to take a toll on her vitality. It was a rare pleasure, standing outside: the wind blew her auburn hair around on her head and made the skirt of her wine-hued gown cling to her legs like a recalcitrant three year old.
At her heels was Jaisin, a Dedicated who she had recruited for today's lesson. He was quite singularly talented, being completely mute, and his height and breadth of shoulder lent to the illusion she cared to create. He had come to them from a traveling show: a wilder who had "never missed" with his throwing axes or knives. Bald, young, and with dark eyes that seemed made of ice, he was enough to make the blood run cold - unless you knew he was almost completely harmless and lived to make children giggle with his silent imitations.
She had given him several axes and some daggers as they walked, and as Liaran straightened, Zaephra handed him the last of them, the one she'd been carrying herself. "Jaisin is here because there are things I just can't do," Zaephra said, her tones apologetic. "But being Dedicated, he hasn't sworn the Oaths. He can do them." She smiled brightly, trying to lend credence to her illusion that bringing along an enforcer for something like a block-breaking was completely normal.
"We are going to begin by having you attempt to grasp the Source yourself, of course. When that doesn't work, if it doesn't work, we'll have Jaisin do what he excels at until it does." He leered at the girl - truly, he was smiling, but his lips had been sewn together once, and since then, his smile was rather fearsome to behold.
"When you care to begin, Liaran," she said, smiling still. "Do please remember our time comes at a price."
The Dedicated towered over Liaran, his smile frightening in a way she'd never quite seen before. Liaran backed up a couple of steps, not wanting to be very close to the man. Zaephra Sedai had as much as told her that he was dangerous, and here solely to threaten her. I'm not going to stand here and let him try what Thimelle did, she decided. Or anything close Does she really think I'll be able to channel if I'm attacked often enough?
As far as Liaran knew, the only instances in her life when she might or might not have channeled had been dangerous, both to herself and others. Zaephra Sedai was insistant that she'd channeled something called balefire unintentionally to destroy the washtub Thimelle had tried to drown her in. Liaran wasn't sure whether she believed that was her fault, but she did believe in the danger of balefire. The sudden disappearance of the tub added to Zaephra Sedai's explanation of it had assured that well enough. And if he comes after me and it happens again? Then what? True, she wasn't happy about being here, but she didn't want to see that balefire take either of the people standing near her either.
Zaephra Sedai had ordered her to attempt channeling by herself, and Liaran supposed she had to try. Maybe, being in the Tower, it would somehow work where it had failed so many times with Mirrana. Liaran pictured the shore of a river, guiding it without overtaking it, as she had so many times before. Nothing happened; she hadn't expected anything, but was surprised to feel a flicker of disappointment.
The Dedicated seemed to be watching her, as if waiting for her to fail. Liaran tried to remove her gaze from him and was not successful. She'd been all too aware of the man ever since he'd arrived. Nervously, she awaited the inevitable, hoping against hope that there would be some way to avoid the balefire that seemed to be haunting her.
Zaephra reached out, touching the pendant at Jaisin's throat, before she nodded at the concentrating woman. They had worked out a few hand signals years before, of course: they had had to. Until Jaisin had learned to write, his childhood maiming had run his life and his temper had been truly fearsome to behold. Now that he communicated, albeit slowly, he had mellowed and his sunny attitude shown through into most things he did. Zaephra knew he was aspiring to her own Ajah, interested in the mechanics of making speaking ter'angreal - a field in which he was already having limited success.
But today, he'd agreed to help her: he understood a block better than most. She gestured sharply with her smallest finger, and Jaisin tossed a blade with accuracy, saidin aiding his throw. It quivered less than a quarter of an inch from the jumping pulse in the column of the girl's throat. This was what Jaisin'ster'angreal was for - until Liaran learned to control herself, someone had to be completely indestructible to her. Jaisin had so many protective ter'angreal upon himself that it was a wonder he did not clank with each step.
She signaled "again" at him, and he threw an axe, which clunked with grim finality into the wooden posts beyond Liaran's slender form. Something has to terrify her soon, Zaephra thought, and then we'll be able to begin to teach this one the true price of arrogance. Not that she disliked the Atha'an Miere girl, but her haughty indifference was amusing in the face of her monstrous affinity for balefire!
A blade flashed by Liaran's throat, quickly followed by another, and still more. First Thimelle, and now this Jaisin. Was everyone hear trying to kill her? She would have been angry with the man, and with Zaephra Sedai, if her fear had left room for other emotions. From the way all the blades had aimed for her throat, the man was throwing to kill, and Liaran did not want to die.
The brightness of the sun increased, and Liaran almost thought she could smell the dust blowing in the yard. She was less aware of her anger, overwhelmed by a sense of peace that was completely out of place as the knives continued to fly. Is this it? This...channeling? Liaran hoped not. She still wasn't quite sure she believed she was channeling at all, but these odd feelings of increased sensation did seem to result in balefire, and not long after they'd begun. "I think I have it," Liaran said, nervously, "but I can't control anything. Can't you take it away?" That seemed to her to be quite the easy solution to her problem. She'd never wanted to channel, and if she was doing so unconsciously it was dangerous. Liaran dared to hope Zaephra Sedai would agree.
Jaisen stopped, pausing to rub his arm, and shot Zaephra a glance. She nodded, and he stepped backward, keeping a dagger in the ready position in his palm. Moving carefully closer to Liaran, who was haloed in gold, she held both a slicing weave and a shield ready. She didn't think anyone could stop balefire, but she would try if she had to, and the shield was an extension of her nervousness. Pausing as the girl stopped to speak, Zaephra relaxed. If she were going to unconsciously weave balefire, she would have done so by now. Blocks were reflexive, and it was best to break the reflex that spawned them.
"Yes, Liaran," Zaephra said, quietly, "we could take it away. But that would be tantamount to cutting off your hands and casting you into the street to die. Women who separate themselves from the One Power, even accidentally, do not often survive the shock. It is...worse than dying, in many ways. Women who survive the loss can find a reason to live, but it takes so long and it must be so...pressing...a need. It is like being mostly dead, they write."
"And even then, it can be Healed now, and you will still be at risk of creating balefire if you are Healed. No, there is no way around learning to control the One Power, and there is no way I will let you out of this Tower until you can. You are too dangerous - to the world, to yourself - to be let go. So look at me and know, Liaran din Chelai Morning Star - I will kill you myself before I let you leave as you are now."
"Now, child, address the Power: reach into the brightness and tell me what you feel inside it." Signaling Jaisen to let another dagger fly, landing in the wood with a thick tchunk sound beside the Atha'an Miere girl, Zaephra schooled herself to forget pity. It was fear she needed to evoke in the child, not show on her own face.
What sort of nonsense was the Aes Sedai spouting now? Liaran wasn't going to die if someone took this awful ability away. On the contrary, she would be much better off, able to go back to her place on the Seaspray, and everyone around her would be safer as well. It seemed that nothing was simple in this Grey Tower, and that Zaephra Sedai was determined to keep her here.
Liaran only wished she knew why. She did not want to be here, had made that perfectly clear, and on top of that, was a danger to anyone near who was threatening her, as Zaephra Sedai was now doing through the person of Jaisin. Didn't the woman think Liaran would weave the balefire again? She had done it before, and she feared she would do it again.
That fear was the only thing making her comply with the woman's wishes now. She would control this balefire, and when that happened she would leave. If that meant trying to channel, then she would do it. Liaran concentrated, focused on the feeling of the Power flowing through her. The awareness was new to her; always, she had used it without thought, and now she was able to just feel it. A dagger flew by her face and she reached for the part of it that seemed to call out to her. Glowing bright red, Liaran thought it might burn her when she touched it. Is that it? Balefire? she worried, and with that, saidarleft her, and the world seemed to fade to her eyes. "I had... something. Something bright and hot, that reminded me of the fire I sent at that washtub. I don't want to use it again," she said. Just take it from me, rather than risk that!
She signaled quickly to Jaisen, who tossed an axe into the post behind Liaran with contemptuous ease. Using Air, he pulled them back out, and as he assembled them for throwing once more, Zaephra rushed over to the Novice. "No, Liaran - not balefire, not that time. The One Power is divided into five pieces, which work together like the wind and the sea and the raker. If you add in the sun, and the people who run him," she said, finishing her analogy. "You have merely noticed that there's a sun in the sky that issaidar - that was not balefire. Now we will try again, Liaran."
She did not signal for Jaisen to use the knives: instead, she clutched her fist in the air to the side of her body. She did not need to see the weaves to know that she had straightened suddenly in the crushing vise of saidin, nor that it would continue to gently squeeze until Liaran reached out in desperation. "Reach consciously, Liaran: picture the sea, and the sun beating down, and the raker becalmed in the center. Be the sea, be the raker, be the sun...wait for the breeze, let it fill you, hold it close. Lean into the wind, let it support you as it carries you. Feel wind, Liaran."
"Each time we push this conscious choice a little closer to reality. One day the Power will be yours, want it or not. It's like a babe, really: you must carry one if you conceive one, and there is no stopping the labor at the end of the nine moons."
As the weaves closed around her, Liaran thought that Zaephra Sedai truly did mean to kill her. If she did not, the Aes Sedai was doing an excellent job of pretending to do so. The weaves surrounding her were not pretend, and they only grew tighter with every passing second. She was going to suffocate! From somewhere in the distance, Zaephra Sedai encouraged her to make a conscious reach for the Power, describing exercises that reminded her of the ones Mirrana had made her do so often, with no success.
She was hardly aware of the woman's words at all, the choking weave being a much more immediate concern. She could hardly breathe, and it did not help Liaran at all to recall Zaephra Sedai's threats to her life should she fail to control her ability. Her curse, was more like it, and as like to get her killed as to benefit her in any way. Had the Aes Sedai already decided she was beyond hope, deserving of a slow death for something over which she had no control?
Light filled Liaran, thought she hadn't been trying to reach the Power at all. It had been impossible to concentrate, with the Aes Sedai trying to scare her at the same time! For the first time, the Sea Folk girl was really aware that she was holding saidar, full of life and energy as she had never been before. And she had to let it go. Her instructions had been to reach it consciously, and she had not done so. Reluctantly, she let go, feeling as if she had just released her own life. If I can't reach it myself, at least I've learned how to let go when I want. Liaran feared that wouldn't always be true for her. The Power was seductive, more so than she could have guessed from any description given to her. Would she even be able to avoid using it after she had control?
She signaled to Jaisin to cut his weaves as the girl let go, and as soon as she had a full breath in her lungs, and had gasped another, she signaled for him to begin again. He was careful, she knew: she had been able to gauge the pressure of the weave by the shade of Liaran's face. This would work, or it would not: if she made no progress here, Zaephra would find other options. Getting the child drunk might help: so might sleep deprivation, hunger, or days of endless boredom. She was reluctant to use such barbaric methods, but she was also unable to leave Liaran to her own devices.
Her own shield hovered so close to Jaisin that her nervous strain must be showing on her face. His instructions were to stop when he had been squeezing her a full minute, because much longer without a full breath and they risked truly killing the child - or turning her into a vegetable. She willed Liaran to give in a trifle sooner, to need less pain this time: to comprehend that saidar was a gift to be willingly accepted. As was life. Jaisin stole a glance at her as she hovered nervously beside him, and she gave him a thin smile in reassurance.
She had been reluctant to use him: he had an unearned reputation as a monster that was simply not true. Now, she'd either always fear him or she'd come to hate him, but that was the price one paid. He had agreed. She would also become Liaran's enemy, but that was another sacrifice she had to make. It was a shame: she admired the child's spirit.
Perhaps that was why it bothered her so to be the one to break it.
She was suffocating again. What would she have to do to get them to let her be? Liaran knew the answer. All she had to do was to consciously embrace, just once. Zaephra Sedai made it sound so simple, as if only Liaran's own stubbornness was preventing her from doing so. As if the Aes Sedai would know! She, who was all power, had no idea what it was to be ripped from one's family, ordered to do what she could not, and nearly killed many times over for not doing so.
Her anger at the moment was powerful, diminished only by her fear. The Sea Folk girl almost wished the woman would just kill her already. Clearly, this whole lesson was a farce designed for just that purpose! She had been trying to channel since the weave had taken up squeezing her again, and with even less luck than she'd had previously. Saidar was there, Liaran could tell that much now, but she had as much chance of reaching it as she did of touching the sun itself. All of her straining for it had yielded her exactly nothing.
Liaran's temper, normally quite easily controlled, snapped. Why was she standing here, calmly enduring this? She wanted to have control of the balefire, truly she did, but not at the cost of her own life. "If you're going to kill me, just do it already," she gasped, nearly out of breath. "I...cannot...reach it!" Likely, she wasn't supposed to be addressing either of them in such anger, as her superiors, but Liaran found it hard to care about that at the moment. It was rather difficult to summon energy for any action when you were barely being permitted to breathe.
Zaephra did not bother to hide her irritation as she glared at the gasping girl, letting the weave continue a few seconds more before she gave Jaisin the signal to stop. Light, how many ways to almost kill the child would she have to invent? Might as well hoist her by her ankles and toss her across the Channeling Yard for all the good this was doing: Liaran's block was buried deeply. Yet, they were having some success: she had felt it there, waiting, admitted that it was within her. Was that a beginning?
"Do you feel the One Power around you still, Liaran?" Zaephra inquired, one part of her mind focused on the answer, the other on building a scaffold of Air to support the weaves she was going to construct. While not as dense as, say, Jaisin, Liaran would struggle, and if she fought at the wrong point, she could be hurt. The gallows-tree that Zaephra built had two purposes: letting Liaran swing out in a controlled arc, and preventing her from hurting herself.
As the girl answered, Zaephra instructed her to think of surrendering to it, to giving herself to it: to embrace it as a lover or a sister, whichever image struck her as more comforting. As she sat there, obediently straining toward the Power, Zaephra struck, weaving this herself. She could do this, because the chances of hurting Liaran were so slim, and because she would worry more for the child's life in Jaisin's hands. Supporting her weave elaborately, she locked it around Liaran's ankles.
And then, she pulled, dangling the girl upside down like a sailor from a yardarm. The first gentle push ofsaidar would not be a shock, but as they built, Zaephra was sure the girl would fear.
There had been no reaction to her outburst, which was odd, but Liaran was not about to protest. She had been lucky not to be severely punished for speaking to Zaephra Sedai in such a way. Or maybe she thinks this supposed lesson is punishment enough? Liaran would not have disagreed. She almost expected that marks would be visible on her throat, if she could see it at all.
The choking weave having finally dissipated, Liaran waited for her next instruction, or torture depending on how one looked at it. She herself was beginning to view it as much the latter. Quite possibly, the wait was intended to keep her on edge, wondering what would be done to her next. While she waited, Zaephra Sedai asked her if she could still sense the Power, and Liaran nodded. Though she had let go, she could feel it just out of reach.
It bothered her far more than she wanted to admit. Every part of her wanted to reach for saidar again, right now, and never let it go. It was as addicting as any drug, something that did not help her fear. Would the need for it remain with her always, if she stayed here? It was a question the Sea Folk girl did not wish to contemplate, as she had little choice in any of this.
Her orders had been to surrender to it, which she thought made little sense when faced with something so immense. Had Mirrana not repeatedly told her the same, Liaran would have thought it utter nonsense and as it was, she still was not convinced. Certainly, the Power was not coming to her no matter how hard she tried to patiently await it, letting it fill her as it willed.
Regardless, she tried, and tried, but nothing happened. Zaephra Sedai must have come to the same conclusion, as Liaran felt something slide around her ankles. The horrible woman knew something about her people, and as she was towed off the ground, Liaran anticipated the beating that would surely come, but it never did. Instead, she found herself swinging upside down from a point high in the air. The ground swayed beneath her, and she closed her eyes, hoping she wouldn't be sick as the pace increased. Her head spun, and she thought she could feel her stomach twist inside her.
Liaran would much rather have taken the expected beating! Surely too much of this would jumble her insides together until nothing was where it should be. The thought was frightening, and she knew Zaephra Sedai would not relent. Her awareness of saidar increased as her fear did, and she felt herself take it in again, for all the good it did her. She still hung suspended in the air, swinging in what felt almost like a complete circle, and had no idea how to use the Power to stop it. Continuing to swing, she was even more aware of her stomach's motions, much closer to sickness than she had been. Quickly, Liaran let go of it and breathed through her mouth, forcing the nausea to stop. Clearly, this experiment had helped nothing.
She continued to elude the Power, succeeding only in surrendering when she was so close to death or damage that Zaephra's nervous instinct was to pull back. She knew how blocks worked: you began with a success - any success, and the fact that Liaran now felt the One Power with her continuously was a tremendous stride forward - and then you built on that. But Zaephra couldn't bring herself to begin a fourth torture on the girl: she needed a break, and Liaran had done well.
"Be dismissed, Jaisin," Zaephra said, softly, as she untangled the weaves covering Liaran, who laid in the dirt, looking decidedly green. "I will send for you if I have need of you again." The Dedicated gave her his best leg, bowing deferentially, then backed away from the Sea Folk girl, who looked nauseous. Wondering if the child might retch, Zaephra marshaled her skirts farther back.
Of all the things children produced, Zaephra was really not at all fond of vomit.
"This was a productive session, Liaran, for all I know you are thinking the opposite. Before we began, you could not sense the Source. You feel it now, though: you have learned to surrender that much. Instead of opening easily, you have chosen to fight every step of this journey. Perhaps I should have you schooled in other forms of surrender," Zaephra mused, aloud. "One of the Warders, perhaps. But that's a thought for tomorrow. Tomorrow, we will begin this again, child, and for an hour every day until your block finally breaks."
"Tomorrow, I'm going to begin with a pit of open, roasting coals, and I think I can construct a very sturdy spit. Just think of how long and how painful it will be until the juices drip," she said, cheerily, to the young Novice. "And when that is done, should it not work...well, then, I am prepared to do several things that you'll find very interesting indeed."
Liaran curled up into a ball in the dirt, stomach rolling, even though she knew the mud that would streak her dress would mean a visit to Zaephra Sedai in her office on top of everything else she'd endured. Compared to that, a switching was a minor irritation, nothing more. She gazed up at the Aes Sedai, wishing the woman would just stop rambling already. The Mistress of Novices was already going on about what a successful lesson it had been.
Liaran supposed it had been, for the Aes Sedai. Wasn't tormenting those called novices her job? For herself, all she had gotten was nausea, an accomplishment in itself for the Sea Folk girl if not one she'd actually wanted. Liaran hardly called such a thing a success, and knew worse awaited her until her cursed block broke, or she could take no more of the "lessons" Zaephra Sedai offered her.
Lessons such as tying her to a spit, whatever that was. It sounded ominous, and Liaran had no doubt that it would meet her expectations. The horrible woman's tone didn't even change, as if she were excited about it! I'll just bet she is. Offering her curtsy, more steady now, Liaran turned and stalked away, already dreading the day to come.
She had hoped that a night of sleep would help, but it had done nothing. Liaran had had nightmares in fact, of Thimelle holding her underwater, of Zaephra Sedai beating her with lashes of fire, and of herself unleashing destruction upon them both. That last was the worst, a vivid reminder of why she was submitting herself to such treatment, enabling her to force herself to show up in the channeling yards the next morning. Liaran din Chelai Morning Star was going to break her block...as long as the Mistress of Novices did not break her first.
If the Sea Folk girl had expected long faces and dry humor on her second day of block-breaking, the handsome young man - Dedicated Paitr, today - and Zaephra, plus a bottle of wine and a smaller bottle of even heavier spirits, was a puzzlement. Doing her best to ignore the suspicious girl stalking toward her with that oddly sinuous walk of an Atha'an Miere moored on dry land, Zaephra leaned forward, engaging the dark-haired Paitr in conversation. The lad had a face of passing beauty, but his true loveliness was his eyes, a deep brown fringed by long, luscious lashes that would make a Domani jade weep in jealousy.
Today, they were going to discuss surrender with Liaran: yesterday, they had demonstrated the futility of pain. Tomorrow would be given to a third character lesson, and the day after, she would be certain that Liaran had not slept for the previous two nights. It was a hard row to hoe, and the girl likely felt like she was being run through a scupper and then pounded on a forge. There would be a reckoning, she knew, but that was the risk she ran with every student. That thrill made her heart beat a little faster under her bodice, although no one at all needed to know about that.
As the girl approached the blanket, she gestured at the seat beside Paitr. "Paitr Viors of Tear joins us today," Zaephra said, companionably. "We were about to have a cup of wine. A delicate vintage to complement roasting your flesh," she said, flashing the girl a smile that was not altogether friendly. "I would like you to drink three cups - and quickly, mind you. You are not a large girl, and the wine will relax you - then we'll be ready to begin. And everything I've planned for today might take a bit more than our allotted hour, so do drink quickly."
She took a cup of wine but did not drink, and Paitr wrinkled his nose at the cup she offered him. He did not agree with today's methods or tests, but he had agreed. She had picked him as much for his willingness to kiss the girl as for his pretty eyes. While he might complain that it was a bit odd to "spark" a girl with a vigilant chaperone, Zaephra had no intentions of leaving a drunk young miss alone with anyone - not until she had to.
Some things were below even her.
Slightly confused by her orders, the Sea Folk novice settled herself on the blanket. Where was the pit of flaming coals that Zaephra Sedai had threatened her with at the last lesson? Whatever Liaran had expected on her second day of block breaking attempts, it had not included being presented with three glasses of wine and a Dedicated who was...quite pleasant to look at. It was with effort that she pulled her eyes away from his to focus on the task at hand, draining those three glasses.
She knew what they would do to her, though she had never had the opportunity to drink wine in any excess on the ships, or any desire had there been the chance. Drunkenness was fairly rare among the Sea Folk, yet Liaran remembered a rumor that had been passing among the deckhands regarding a drunken Sailmistress, dancing on the tables. She would not be a Sailmistress any longer, of course; who would be permitted to keep their rank after such a display?
The Sea Folk girl, even as she began to drink, dreaded the thought of embarrassing herself that way. What could be the point? Surely, if she had no control of her actions she would have no control ofsaidar. Shortly she was halfway through the second glass, feeling slightly lightheaded. Liaran tried to sense the Power, but failed. This is not going to work, she thought in anger. Is she just trying to humiliate me? Liaran would not have put that entirely past the Mistress of Novices. There were times she thought she trusted the woman, that everything she did was for her own good, but there were just as many times that she thought the woman was enjoying the task, far too much.
The thought did not help her confidence as she finished drinking the last of her glasses, waiting to feel their effect on her. Liaran was grateful to be sitting on the blanket, since her head was beginning to spin. It was not precisely a headache, but more like the beginning of dizziness. She did not think she could have stood without aid. And saidar was still nowhere to be found, irritating her further. All this wine, sure to make her sick the next day, and she could not so much as sense the Power she was seeking.
She was pretty enough, anyway. Feeling a bit of relief, although he hadn't realized he had been tense, he shook his head. He'd agreed to come along because block-breaking was a topic of much interest amongst the Indigo Ajah, which he aspired to join someday. He'd chosen the Ajah because of his unusual Talent and its strength, but now that he was exploring it in depth, it satisfied him to pursue it farther. Who had ever realized that block-breaking could be so interesting? More than that, that it could require so many different strengths in those that sought to help?
He hadn't been handed an easy task - and that was even with the bottle of brandy he'd seen in the Mistress of Novice's pocket when she sat down - but he was interested in the challenge she had set him. Liaran, she had said, had trouble surrendering to the Source, although she now felt it and had stopped protesting that it was nothing more than a fever dream. Acceptance was the first step on the path to freedom, and she had taken it quickly indeed.
The next step, he was told, in grasping saidar was to surrender to it. Zaephra thought that perhaps if Liaran had experienced another form of surrender, even one so mild as a few kisses stolen while "no one was watching," she might possibly find a way to equate one sensation for another. If nothing else, it was a chance to say he'd done something he bet no one else ever had: had the Mistress of Novices offer him wine and a pretty wench!
Speaking of pretty wenches, she was busily gulping wine: Paitr hid his grin. Moving a bit closer, as Zaephra did a fine job of appearing to be interested in the Training Yards, he whispered, "Hello," to the Sea Folk girl.
"I'd hate to be you later tonight," he said, then flushed. "I mean, when the wine head sinks in." Could he be any more foolish?
Liaran set the last wineglass down, swaying slightly as she did so. Turning her head, she looked at Zaephra Sedai for her next instructions, but the woman was staring off into the distance, attention caught by a pair of Drin'far'ji sparring in the adjacent Training Yard.That was strange, the Aes Sedai was supposed to be teaching her something. Her head felt fuzzy, and she couldn't remember exactly what lesson was meant to be taking place.
Now what was she supposed to do? Here she was, waiting for her lesson, whatever it had been, and the teacher had apparently lost all interest in her. Not everyone had, however; the Dedicated she'd been eyeing at the start of it had moved closer to her, and was trying to start a conversation. This could be fun. If she wasn't going to learn anything today, she may as well enjoy herself. But what was he saying about the wine? She hadn't had that much, and it really wasn't bothering her, if she didn't count the dizziness. "Oh, it doesn't matter," she said, a little too loudly. "I'm sure I'll be just fine tomorrow morning!"
"Really?" Paitr asked, moving a bit closer. How long could Zaephra stare off into space like that, anyway? Feeling a bit of pressure, he wriggled in his coat. After a moment, he slid it off, setting it beside him. It was still early spring, and the Gardens were cool, but the warmth of embarrassment permeated him. "You look so pretty in white," Paitr started off, feeling a bit silly. As compliments went, it was at least honest: her dark hair and olive complexion, burnished by the sun into a rich bronze, were all complemented by her simple white gown.
He moved a little closer: as giddy as the Novice seemed, he was sure very little made sense to her. Light, he didn't think she would be needing any brandy, but it might help him. Picking up the cup of wine, he heard the jeering voices in his head: "Paitr, who couldn't kiss a girl even when he was told to!" It just seemed a little wrong, that was all. Draining the cup, he mused: well, and she was so drunk, it was like stealing sweets from a sleeping baby.
Because if you didn't do that right, you could definitely expect to be yelled at.
So he smiled, and if there was tension in it, she didn't seem to notice. He moved a little closer, and then, he leaned in and kissed her.
If she wasn't to have a lesson, at least this day held something worthwhile, though she would have disagreed about her looks in white. Liaran much preferred the bright colors that were always worn on the ships, and barely tolerated the white she had to wear every single day here. Accurate or not, it still was nice for someone else to appreciate the color on her.
Liaran rather liked his appearance as well, and made no attempts to resist when he moved closer to her. His brown eyes were much prettier this close up, almost sparkly.In fact, he almost reminded her of some of the male deckhands, though with lighter skin than any Sea Folk man had ever possessed. She wasted no time responding to his kiss, wrapping her arms around him. Liaran paid no heed to Zaephra Sedai, still quite present somewhere nearby.
His eyes widened and then he blinked. Then he swallowed, flailed, and wondered how you breathed. By the time he was coming to the conclusion that suffocation might not be such a horrible death at all, he was seeing dark spots in his vision. Light's peace above, but now he knew why the men at home laughed longingly about Sea Folk women, and it had very little to do with their walk! The trouble was that he wasn't sure how to get her to let him go: she had hold of his collar, his lips, and his tongue, and if he hadn't seized her hands, he was rather sure she would have been happy to go in quest of whatever was available.
And he was just too shocked to enjoy it! How many other men could possibly have had a girl thrown at them and failed to enjoy it? Well, it would be wonderful if he could just breathe. Pushing himself away from the Novice, he gasped in a breath. Light, and he'd fancied himself a ladies' man. Blushing, he stammered an apology to her. "I...I da...don't know what I was thinking," he said. "You're very pretty though." Scrambling up, Paitr dropped a confused curtsy to the Aes Sedai, who looked about to giggle, and scampered off to sanity and freedom.
As he rounded the corner, he could hear Zaephra's laughter following him.
She was just beginning to enjoy herself when out of nowhere, he grabbed her hands and pulled away. Hadn't he been the one to kiss her first? Men truly did make little sense, and now what was she supposed to do? It appeared she had no lesson, and now no company to pass the time. Liaran struggled to her feet, tired of sitting, but found it hard to keep her balance. She swayed on her feet, then sat back down, nearly falling onto the blanket. From somewhere nearby, Liaran could hear laughter. Was somebody laughing at her? Her attempt to stand had not helped her dizziness, and Liaran closed her eyes, hoping the feeling would go away soon. As far as she was concerned, the day could just end now. It had not been one of the novice's better ones.
She had seen funnier things in her life, but not recently.
Paitr had seemed so calm when she had outlined her plan for this lesson, but the boy was barely a kiss into his seduction when he scrambled off. In a way, that was for the better, as she certainly didn't want to give the girl notions about the young men, but it was also decidedly irritating. Liaran had been veryresponsive. Letting out a few more giggles, Zaephra shook her head.
"Ah that was humorous. All right, girl, let's see if you managed to learn this lesson: not everything you surrender to is entirely bad. I could call Paitr back, but I think you quite frightened him. Now, we're going to sit here on this blanket until you seize the flaming One Power. I have got more wine and you don't have anywhere to be for the next hour. Of course, soon you'll be too drunk to channel even if you wanted to, and after that, you'll probably suffer alcohol poisoning, but I'll break your flaming block if I have to kill you."
Smiling thinly, Zaephra reached for the girl's glass. "So, you can either try and reach saidar or you can have another glass of wine. Which?"
Yes, someone was laughing. With her eyes closed, Liaran couldn't tell who it was but she had her suspicions, which were confirmed when she felt stable enough to reopen her eyes. Zaephra Sedai, apparently having finally remembered their scheduled lesson, seemed to think Liaran's state was the funniest thing ever and was standing there laughing helplessly.
Liaran didn't find anything funny in what had just happened. Was that supposed to be her lesson, and if so, what was she learning? If it had to do with shorebound men not being attracted to Sea Folk girls, she did not see the point. Liaran knew he'd liked her, at least for a brief instant, and hadn't Zaephra Sedai mentioned something about not being caught with the men while she wore white? Nothing made sense! Most especially not the woman's orders that she try to surrender to the Power.
Sick and humiliated, as she was feeling, surrender in any form was not on the novice's list of good ideas. She had little enough control over her actions as it was. Liaran didn't even believe she could reachsaidar now if she were threatened, but she had to try. The idea of drinking another glass of wine convinced her that saidar was the much preferable alternative.
So she tried, attempting not to reach for the light she could only vaguely sense. It defied logic to her; why shouldn't she reach out for it if she wanted? For all that she knew that wouldn't work for her, her impulses told her to try anyways. Liaran reached, and found herself swaying on the blanket, having failed again. She had to find a way soon, or risk being made even sicker by that wine the Aes Sedai had for her.
"You know, Liaran," Zaephra said, shifting position on the blanket so that she could look into the girl's paled face as she reclined, trying to escape the drunken dizziness she no doubt felt, "perhaps you were right. It is obvious that you have no great potential, since you do not care to work at achieving it. Perhaps the best thing for you would be stilling. I think I can assemble the sisters to perform that for you shortly, and of course, I'm sure you still want that."
Not letting the girl fit a word in edgewise, she added, "It's that stiff pride of yours. At first you come in screaming that channeling is pretend, and then we show you saidar. And then you don't want it: you are like a child who cannot have a toy in a shop. I don't think your Mirrenna knew what to do with you, either: I shall have to talk to her about sending me only those girls with potential in the future. You...just aren't cut out for life off the ships: you cry to go home like some spoiled High Lady."
"I have enough stresses without a stuck-up, self-blinded, silly sow in silk," Zaephra declared, flatly. "So I'll solve this problem for you. Perhaps it's a good thing Glorianna suggested getting you quite so drunk and bringing a lad along: she said if anything would get you out of that self-pity of yours, and teach you a good bit of surrender, it'd be...well, Light, I told Paitr I'd skin him if he tried her suggestion, actually."
"Because you were completely right, of course. Nothing we could do here will ever help you."
She reached for saidar, forming a shield that was thick and strong. Sliding it upon the girl, she smiled. "There. That's your problem solved. I suppose I'll write to the Mistress of the Ships and ask if she wants you back, but she might be a bit slow in replying...and of course, you'll be a deckhand or less all your days. Perhaps you'd be happier as a tavern girl? Do speak up, child: you got what you wanted, so certainly, you had plans for what should come next."
Liaran thought the lecture would have been more effective had she been able to make sense of any of it. Struggling to stay upright, she could not actually make out many of the words, though the woman's displeasure was clear enough. What had the Aes Sedai expected? She had told the woman countless times that she did not want to be here. Liaran was only surprised that it had taken the woman so long to understand.
She'd tried hard enough to show the Aes Sedai that she was not made to be here. Only her cursed ability had kept her from fleeing this long.She had to stay here, if only to gain control of that before she left. Don't I? The Aes Sedai's tone suggested that she no longer cared about Liaran's problem, and if she did not, than neither would Liaran.
She could barely sense saidar with the headache and dizziness. It was as far out of reach to her as the stars in the sky. Abruptly, even that vanished, replaced by an emptiness she hadn't thought she'd feel. This, then, must be stilling. Liaran had asked for it, and Zaephra Sedai had finally seen fit to grant it to her. It was odd; she had not expected to feel as if she'd lost something. An arm or leg, perhaps, something that was part of her very being. It frightened her. She could not even channel when she wished, so why did she suddenly feel incomplete? There was a purpose waiting for her, after all. She did not have to remain here, learning to control an ability she had never wanted. She would return to the ships, that's what she would do, and become a Sailmistress like her mother in her time.
Mind made up, Liaran attempted to get to her feet again, though she never made it farther than her knees. "Fine," she snapped, having lost the ability to control her temper after the second wineglass. "I'll just wait here until that awful wine of yours is gone, then find my way home." And I'll be well rid of your Tower, too.
"Child, you won't get more than a few moments away from me before you realize you're little more than a package to be handed back and forth." Studying the dizzy girl with cool, clinical detachment, Zaephra sighed, rising to her feet. "Did you think that was permanent, that it was so easily done as that? Light's grace, I would have stilled near every child in this building if it were that easy." The sad thing was that was far more tempting an option than teaching most of them to become responsible, productive Aes Sedai: she wasn't sure that was possible at all.
"This isn't permanent, Liaran: it's just to hold you until I can arrange for enough sisters to make it so. Because that's what you want. You had a taste of Tower life, and found it was too tough to chew. You'd rather give up a life of purpose and reason to squander what you were given upon the narrow deck that's all you'll be good enough to wash. And that's your choice, of course." Pausing a moment, she added, "And I would never leave you to cross the Mountains of Mist to get back to the Ships: you'd never make it. You lack direction, in so many ways."
"But what should you care? If you are so eager to be about mopping a deck again, and so ready to make it the rest of your life - which will be miserable and short - then let's head back in." Putting out her hands, for the girls' use as she rose to her feet, she clucked under her breath. "Be sure and have a few babies in the years before you die: perhaps they won't be half as stubborn about their potential as you."
Lying on the blanket, Liaran was forced to admit that she was in no condition to leave anytime soon. She wouldn't have minded much were it not for the Aes Sedai who insisted on staying put. The woman seemed to get some sort of satisfaction from describing Liaran's future as she saw it. To the novice, it only served to prove how little the Aes Sedai knew of her people. She was not going to be mopping decks for the rest of her life! Even if she was, decks were a good deal better than the endless tiles of the Grey Tower. Almost anything was preferable to the Tower, at that.
She was tired, the dizziness making it hard for her to hold to any sort of the deference she usually showed for the Aes Sedai. "If I have to mop decks for a time, at least I won't be here!" she snapped, already anticipating her return home. "I'd much rather be a deckhand for life than remain here to let you attack me every moment I'm not doing chores." Not that she minded chores, but there were so many of them in the Grey Tower, and most with little real purpose. On the ships, every little task was useful in some way.
Liaran took the offered hands, wobbling on unsteady legs despite the help. Finally, she was being listened to, though it made little sense in light of the woman's previous insistence that she would never let Liaran got. She wasn't going to argue if the Aes Sedai had changed her mind. It mattered little, as long as she was permitted to leave this horrible place for somewhere she truly belonged.
"I see you don't like chores," Zaephra said, wryly. "Indeed, it must be difficult to learn the basics of a new culture. Who could expect you to give it a fair chance? Not to worry, we're returning to my office to write to the Mistress of the Waves, and she will respond when she has had time to find a placement for you. She was hoping to get a Windfinder from this, but I guess she knew your case was impossible when she sent you here."
Leading the way from the Training Yards to the Serpentine Building, Zaephra was silent, keeping the tottering Sea Folk girl upright. There was not much to say, and the girl was a trial she didn't need - one she couldn't manage when the child was determined not to accept aid. Best to keep her here and waiting while the Wavemistress tried to fit in a bilge scraper or whatever girls like Liaran began as.
"What's the difference," Zaephra inquired, as she guided the girl up the steps to the topmost floor, "between washing dishes on a raker and washing dishes in the Kitchens? Or, even, mopping a deck or a tiled floor? As we wait for the Wavemistress to be bothered with your case - it may take several weeks for a reply - you might as well do something. I think we could use a new scullery maid. Consider it training for your new life."
Some digging in one of her wardrobes brought up a set of Tower livery: the simple grey gown had the Tower insignia on the left breast. It was a touch short for Liaran's lanky frame, and the bust was comical, but it didn't matter what a servant's dress looked like. Paying some attention to the girl at last, Zaephra began to weave a shield on her that would keep when tied. It would wear off in a few hours, but Liaran professed not to care.
The girl was so blocked, she could have sent her to the kitchens just the way she was, but she felt a bit responsible for the child's state.
"There, that should last a few hours," Zaephra said, at last. Then, she pointed at the table, which still held the detritus from lunch. "Begin by cleaning that, and then return to the Kitchens and take the orders you're given. When I have news, I will summon you. Until then, you are no longer a Novice - exactly what you wanted. I hope you gain much enjoyment from it."
"You will be kept to the Kitchens, the laundries, and the sculleries. You are not to leave Tower grounds, and in lieu of pay, you receive the services of an Aes Sedai - namely, me - and your room and board. Be certain to clean your Novice quarters out thoroughly tonight. I shall need them soon for a child that will learn."
Lifting a finger in dismissal, Zaephra added, "And mind you ask a penance for drinking while on duty. That would be the same on a ship."
Liaran kept silent as the Mistress of Novices talked, and talked some more. The woman did like the sound of her own voice. Does she really think I'm listening? She was certain the woman had expected her to put up a screaming fight, and Liaran was pleased to disappoint her. Honest work was nothing that would bother her, she'd spent her entire life doing work. In all, working as a maid appealed to her slightly more than did the life of a novice, trying to control an ability she did not want. If Zaephra Sedai had wanted to anger her, the woman had failed. She would wait with patience until her summons came, and then finally be gone from this place.
The Sea Folk girl assumed her service would begin the next day, sick as she was, but was quickly proved wrong as Zaephra Sedai told her to clean up the table to start. How did the woman think she was going to work when she could hardly stand? Liaran grasped the edge of the table for support, slowly gathering the dishes. It took her much longer than it should have to collect them all; walking very slowly was the only way she could manage to stay upright. Loaded down with dirty plates, she staggered slowly towards the kitchens.
The rest of the first day blurred together in her mind. Three plates had broken on her way there, leaving her with a beating to endure before she was even set to work. Vaguely, Liaran recalled being set to scrub soot from the fireplace, turning the grey dress closer to black long before she was finished. There had been the endless dishes to wash, pots to clean, and when that ended, she'd been given laundry. All this together ensured that she did not see her bed until well after sundown.z
The following morning, she found that though she could stand on her own feet, she felt sick and had a headache quite unlike any other. Still, she was dragged awake before dawn and set to cleaning the kitchen floors. It was a task that took her much of the morning, and her day was nowhere near over. Food still had to be cooked, and that was what she did most of the afternoon. It was boring, painstaking work, and she found herself envying her novice companions. They at least had classes to attend, where she had nothing, nothing but work and the taunt of saidar.
With the shield no longer in place, it called to her every moment of every day until she thought restraint might drive her mad. It felt wrong to her to desire it. The Power was the reason she was stuck here right now, and still the need did not leave her. To her frustration, Liaran found that she could not imagine what it would be like not to have it there, even slightly out of reach. Even returning home might not be enough to compensate for the feeling of loss, knowledge that left her scared, if somewhat more resigned to her fate.
As the days in the kitchen began to turn to weeks, Liaran came to the realization that Zaephra Sedai was not going to come back for her. It had all been a trick, her way of getting another servant for free. She had not thought it possible for her hatred of the woman to increase, but it had. Had she really thought Liaran would wait here forever? She had patience, yes, but not enough for this. As had become routine, she'd been beaten again for her slowness, and did not think she could stand another day shut up here, endlessly working with no access to the Power she now knew she had to allow into her life. I'm going to run, she decided just as the door swung open.
It was a sunny day, and that seemed entirely wrong for what they were about to do. Shouldn't murder take place on a dark and stormy night? Kimma din Kestrel Singing Sun was due to arrive shortly, bringing with her an entourage to collect their failed daughter, although it had been stressed that the child was not hers. That was the way of the world, though, in Zaephra's estimation. Fail, and you stood alone. Succeed, and you suddenly had had a thousand supporters, even when you had been certain you were working alone and a failure. Liaran had been hard at work in the Kitchens for more than a month and a half, and Zaephra's notes to the Wavemistress of the din Chelai clan had become quite curt. Finally, stressing that it was a great honor for Kimma to acquiesce to come so far inland, the woman had set a date and a time for this necessity.
She was nearly as stubborn as flaming Liaran! It was easy to see where the girl's inflated ego and sense of self-value had been fostered. If the entire family were so arrogant, it was a wonder they didn't die out rather than gift one another with offspring! Tapping her foot with ill-concealed - okay, unconcealed - irritation, Zaephra waited in the Traveling Yards. Fifteen minutes later, the final Sea Folk woman had assembled, and they had all stalked past her, their noses held high, as if she stank! Half shocked by their negligent care of one of their own children - and one who would shortly be in the throes of an agony Zaephra didn't want to imagine - she quietly led the delegation into the Grey Tower. The sisters within had assembled more than a half an hour before, at the sound of the bell, and many were restive. Stilling was a thing undertaken seriously, a final resort and a punishment many had never seen used.
And Liaran's only crime was being proud: too proud to surrender.
There was some chatter as the sisters mingled with the Sea Folk, but Zaephra kept silent. Leaving a Yellow sister to explain the weave they would soon be using, Zaephra went in search of her failed Novice. She did not like what the woman had moved her to, but it was Liaran's own choice, and she was reminded that she could put a horse before water...but she could not make him drink. Only thirst did that, and Liaran was incurious about her gifts. Nor did she wish to explore the Tower: the Mistress of the Kitchens said the girl was punctual, polite enough, neat and quick. They were good qualities in someone who had chosen to spend her life scrubbing a deck when she might have commanded the ship, Zaephra supposed.
You could show a woman an opportunity, but you could not make her embrace it.
Their eyes met as Zaephra moved into the kitchen, and she paused, taken aback by what she saw. There was a feral glint in the Atha'an Miere woman's eyes. With a sigh, Zaephra crossed the cavernous Kitchen and stopped before the girl. "Your Wavemistress has come for you this day. I had to send many missives. She has made today available for your new assignment, and the sisters are assembled for your stilling. It is still what you wish, is it not?" Zaephra inquired, offering Liaran a hand to rise with. "I have brought the clothing you came in. It may not fit as well as it once did, but it is suitable for your new position in life, is it not? I will take your Novice gowns. Leave them here, and I will have them taken to the laundry."
"We cannot teach those who will not be taught," she said, shrugging. "But I am certain you will find peace and a place of value amongst your own kin."
She led the girl to a small receiving chamber, where she was given back her jewelry and her clothing, and Zaephra waited as she dressed. She was a lovely woman, if cold and haughty, and it was with regret that Zaephra brought her into the Great Hall.
The open door brought with it Zaephra Sedai, a surprise to the Sea Folk girl, though it should not have been. The Aes Sedai had told her she'd be contacting the Mistress of the Ships, yet Liaran had not thought she'd actually go through with it. Now what was she to do? She couldn't escape now, not with Zaephra Sedai here to take her away. Liaran hadn't truly wanted to do that anyways; it had only been her last resort to avoid being left to rot in the Tower's kitchens.
That at least was no longer a problem, but the Aes Sedai's arrival presented Liaran with an entirely new dilemma, as she was not at all certain she wanted to leave. To go home, yes. She didn't think she'd ever cease to want that, but what she wanted was to go back to where she had been. Just a normal deckhand, no different than the girl next to her hauling the lines. That couldn't be, and she was not at all certain what future she would have upon her return, a deckhand who everyone knew should have become a Windfinder.
Anxiously, Liaran tried to imagine what her life would be like. She knew she'd face harsh punishment for her failure, but what else? Would she really be kept a deckhand the rest of her life? That had happened, if rarely, and she knew she faced long years of work before she was considered capable of rising in rank after this disaster. It would be difficult, made worse by the total lack of access to saidar. She wondered how that would feel, whether the need for it would ever fully subside. Liaran only remembered vaguely how it had felt to be prevented from reaching it, but it had been no less difficult to have it there just out of reach. If anything, that would be worse, enough to drive a woman mad before too much time had passed. The thought was frightening, enough to make her wish to remain here instead of stepping back into a world that would no longer accept her. Whether she liked it or not, her ability had changed her so that she belonged neither here nor there. It almost sounded better to remain here, which had at least become somewhat familiar, if no less unpleasant.
Silence was her rule when it came to Zaephra Sedai, and she made no exception today. Liaran did not even protest that she did not wish to lose her ability anymore; what difference would it have made? Her decision had been made long ago, the Mistress of the Ships was here, and it was she who would have to suffer for it. Finally the image of a good, submissive novice, Liaran followed Zaephra Sedai to a room where she put on the same clothing she had worn to the Tower. If she whispered to herself that she did not want to be stilled, nobody heard her or cared.
She leaned against the door, saidar glowing around her, a shield forgotten but held to the side. She had been about to slide it between the girl and the unfettered glow of the Power, but the small comment she'd intercepted had knocked her world from its axis. If the girl did not want to be stilled, what did this mean? She had followed this grim course knowing that it was what the child had asked for, and knowing that even if she did not yet know the magnitude of her request, it would be a decision that could be undone if she chose to apply herself properly as a Novice. In a year, perhaps two, the girl could return, humbled and ready...but she was whispering that she did not want what awaited her now.
What did it mean, that Liaran was turning down the gift of more years in which to come to a decision about the One Power and her future? Was she already decided? She had seen the Tower's seedy underbelly, worked as a maidservant, and done fine work. She was quiet and clean and pride was not a sin so much as her unbending arrogance was. Leaning against the gold-leaf inlaid door, Zaephra weighed her choices, tried to arrange her options before herself.
The girl could still change her mind, again: that she had to face the room of Atha'an Miere women and their displeasure was a given. Zaephra could not save her from that, nor would she after how difficult it had been merely to gain Kimma's acquiescence to come at all. She deserved to know that her place was now lessened amongst those she valued, but if she chose not to be stilled, then Zaephra's standing fell. Their relationship with the prickly Sea Folk was far from harmonious, and summoning a woman who outranked her for a mere trifle - to a woman who could not channel, perhaps it was - would damage their delicate treaties.
Yet, someone had to stand behind Liaran, and ask her for her decision.
Keeping her face impassive and cold as the girl left the room, resplendent in her fine, colorful garb, Zaephra spoke. "Come into the Great Hall. We shall do your will if you but speak it. We may not agree with your choices and your decisions, but this is your life. We cannot walk in your shoes."
The girl was barefoot. Zaephra bit her lip at the misspeaking, but then lifted one shoulder in a deprecating shrug. "Speak your mind truly and feel no fear," she counseled the girl as they left the short corridor and mounted the dais before the assembled crowd of Atha'an Miere and Aes Sedai.
"I bring before you Liaran din Chelai Morning Star, who is accused of no crime and will be commuting no sentence of permanence should she be stilled this day. As she has no crime to confess, let her instead speak her mind about the future...and the past. Listen well, for we prepare to be bound by her words," Zaephra said, forming a small weave to amplify the Novice's voice.
"Speak truly," she directed the Novice, "and state your will and purpose."
Eyes stared at her from every direction. Liaran had known that the Mistress of the Ships had been summoned, but had not expected any more attendants than her Windfinder. It looked as if the entire First Twelve had accompanied her, and for what? Were they all here only to witness the fate of a deckhand? Liaran did not think any of them could have so much as known her name before Zaephra Sedai spoken it. Their dark glares let the novice know quite clearly just how much trouble she was in. Whatever she had expected in this room, it had not been a confrontation with the thirteen women who were together as much of a ruler as the Ath'an Miere had.
Invited to speak, initially Liaran froze in place. How could she hope to explain herself to any of these women? They couldn't possibly understand what it was to live with her curse, hating it and yet unable to reject it. Saidar called to her with every breath she took. She knew it would drive her mad if she even made the attempt to live without it, something that only weeks ago she had thought she wanted. It wouldn't be possible, she knew that now. Even if she did accept the stilling she had asked for, to return home, Liaran could tell she would not receive a warm welcome.
All that would remain for her would be work, and loss, and a death much earlier than she intended. Liaran knew she couldn't live with that, couldn't agree to something that at best would result in the loss of her sanity and at worst would bring her death before the year had turned. She was going to have to remain here, continuing her supposed "lessons" in the hope that she would one day have total control of her ability. There seemed to be no way around committing herself fully to a life spent within these walls. Outwardly, she was all quiet composure, but inwardly she wanted to scream, hating the Power that had forced her to this place and would never let her go.
Liaran struggled to find the words to express herself. Zaephra Sedai would never understand her denial. Here she had been fighting the woman from her very arrival, determined to get to the place where she stood currently, and now she was preparing to deny what had been offered to her. She feared that they would all think her mad, or at the least, indecisive, a flighty child with no idea what she wanted out of her life. At the moment, that was quite how Liaran felt.
The novice straightened her back, trying to project an air of confidence she did not actually feel. There was no way to truly feel that when she was about to go back on her request in such a public way. She knew that she would lose respect among her own people, dragged here to witness an event that was not now going to take place. That mattered little; she knew she could never go back, even if she did not quite want to admit it except in her own mind.
Her voice shook, betraying her nerves despite her straight posture. "I requested this," Liaran admitted. "I did not wish to channel when I came here and wanted nothing more than to be rid of my ability. Yet I have recently found that there is no escaping the One Power. Since I have learned to sense it, it never leaves me alone. I... fear that if it were taken from me I would not live long." There was no response, only silence. Liaran knew something more was required, but did not know the words to use. Surely there had to be some sort of formal withdrawal of her request, a resignation to her fate. "I do not want to die, and have no choice but to learn to live with my ability to channel." Liaran felt her whole identity slipping away from her as she spoke. She was irrevocably committing herself to giving up all that she had been; it was almost physically painful for the novice. Who was she to be, if she was not to be Ath'an Miere?She had never imagined any other life, and even as she accepted it could hardly comprehend what she would become.
Liaran turned from the group of Sea Folk women to match gazes with Zaephra Sedai. That she was not now counted among the novices had been made perfectly clear to her, and her acceptance of her fate would come to nothing were she not able to regain her place. She hated the knowledge of what she had to do next, even as she swept into an awkward curtsy before the Mistress of Novices. It was a ridiculous gesture, in her trousers, but she did not even wobble as she had so many times before. Her words were quiet, meant for the Aes Sedai's ears alone. "Zaephra Sedai, I wish to sign the novice book, if you will have me." Her head bowed, Liaran awaited her fate, feeling as if she had just lost a part of herself. There was no longer a deckhand called Liaran din Chelai Morning Star. The hopeful novice, named only Liaran, wondered what she would now become.
A painful rite of passage, Zaephra thought, her hands folded at her waist, her head tipped upward, eyes fixed on the woman standing on the dais. Yet, she had to say every word, turn her back on her past, and accept her future with open arms. It was gratifying that she had heard those small whispers, and the words the Atha'an Miere woman said, her shoulders knotted with the tension of battling so many curious gazes and the difficulty of what she needed to realize, were a panacea for the raw tension of the past few weeks. Liaran stammered and stumbled through her denouncement of her own childish behavior, but she kept going. She was strong, and she was proud, but she had broken. It was but a small crack, though...
"I accept your request to begin training at the Grey Tower and offer you the shelter of its roof," she said, filling the surprised hush that had clutched the hall of gathered onlookers. "Child," she said, to a Novice who was filling cups of sweet, cool tea for the Windfinders, "run and fetch the Novice Book from its stand. Accepted Anjolie will let you in. Return quickly." Shooing the girl with an ill-tempered flipping gesture of the hands, Zaephra let her hazel eyes travel over the Sea Folk woman's body. Choosing another Novice, she scribbled some numbers on a small sheet of paper and sent her to the laundries.
"You come to us in ignorance, but you will depart with a fullness of knowledge about yourself and the ability you possess. You come to us blind, but so shall you see. We will embrace you as a sister, if the Light wills it so." Clapping her hands to gain the attention of the softly grumbling audience, she amplified her voice. "Accept the extended apologies of the Grey Tower for the inconvenience, Sailmistress. Is there any other business you might wish to be about in the time you had allotted us? I shall assign some Accepted to aid you in your needs." She clapped her hands again and a few young women in banded white left off watching the proceedings to cluster around the tight knot of Atha'an Miere women.
"You have not chosen an easy path," she told Liaran, bluntly. "You had no easy choices left to make. You will find yourself in much the same strait as before, a leaky skiff without even a paddle. Only now, I shall expect more of you. Before I treated you as one does a tired and screaming babe. Now, I expect the dedication of a woman wedded to her purpose. We do not lightly offer second chances in the White Tower, Liaran din Chelai Morning Star, and we do not ever offer third chances."
"Do not make me regret this day."
Taking the book from the panting Novice, she held it open, dipping the quill with a strange sense of deja vu.
But this time, she has chosen. She had to believe that that would make all the difference.
"Sign your name in the full knowledge that the key to your own destiny lies within you, and you will have to sweat blood to bring it to pass. Sign. You have wasted time enough already in the bargaining."
Liaran was not convinced she wouldn't live to regret what she had just done. She hated it here, and had no expectation that her lessons would become bearable. Zaephra Sedai was making that very clear as she lectured, voice sounding as if she wished very much that Liaran had not changed her mind. Not quite listening, Liaran wished the woman would stop with the ceremonial talk. She had rambled on too long already, and Liaran had no intention of becoming anything she had said. It sounded as if the Mistress of Novices had high expectations for her, expectations which Liaran thought quite misplaced.
She would cooperate, of course. That was not in question. She had made a choice, and she would hold herself to it. That, however, was all she would do; if Zaephra Sedai expected her to turn into the best and most dedicated of novices, the woman was in for an unpleasant surprise. Liaran fully intended to do everything that was assigned to her, and not one bit more. Minimal effort was all this Tower would receive from her.
She took the quill and signed her name again, across the page from where she had been made to sign previously.It was no easier to do this second time than it had been before, reluctant as Liaran still was to be here at all. Liaran handed the quill back, inwardly resigning herself to her fate. Here she was, and here she would stay...but she was not going to like it.
She watched the girl sign her name: small, this time, and without the loopy flourishes of the first attempt. Closing it with a snap, she took the gown from the Novice who had arrived beside her, and presented it to Liaran. "We welcome you once more, child, to the burden you had thought to put aside. Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather. You will carry your mountain. Stone by stone you will build it. I will give you the shoulders and back for it - as you have asked me to do."
Smiling without pleasure, without malice, she inclined her head to the girl. "It might even be a pleasure," she quipped, dryly. "Go to your changing room and change your gown. Teani, accompany her and help her to do up the buttons. Your room is the same as you left it and your duties are unchanged. I will expect good reports of you. This time, you will try. Second chances are no failing...but rarely do we authorize a third, and never a fourth. Make this chance count, child."
