Fanfic:The Final Test
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Bright lanterns illuminated the halls of the Grey Ajah. Despite herself, Mirin shivered and clutched her cloak closer, hoping that her face and figure remained covered. There was no doubt that, despite all his sweet words, Emmond would not support her if she were caught in the halls of another Ajah at this time of the night.
She counted under her breath as she walked. Finally, she stopped at an unmarked door. Her fingers tapped a light rhythm on the wood. The door opened a crack.
“It’s me,” she whispered hoarsely. “Let me in.”
Silently the door swung open. Behind it was a tall and rather handsome man. His lips parted into a lopsided smile. Mirin returned his smile and walked into his embrace. She arched her back and pressed herself against him. His body responded, molding itself against her. Emmond picked her up easily and swung her out of the way as he kicked the door closed behind them. His lips brushed her forehead, and then he set her down.
“Congratulations, Mirin Sedai.” Emmond’s voice flowed smoothly, like honey and silk. Seductive. Dangerous. Even if they didn’t work together as a Heart in the Black Ajah, Mirin wasn’t sure she could stay away from him.
“You know?”
“Of course I know. Did you expect anything less from me? Come, have some kaf. Tell me, what did they say?”
Mirin peered over her mug at him. The corner of her mouth quirked upward.
“Emmond! You said you knew!”
His dark eyes glittered and his face unexpectedly hardened.
“I knew you had passed. Had you not, I expect that your body would be cooling in your bed right now.”
Mirin’s eyes popped wide open and she took a larger sip of the hot drink than she intended. She immediately regretted it as the kaf burned its way down her throat.
Emmond waited until she recovered. His expression was placid - a façade for his boiling impatience. The Asha’man was an excellent actor, but after working with him for years, Mirin knew better. And he was never a patient man.
He smiled at her pleasantly.
“Well, Mirin? Speak up.”
She tossed her head, sending black curls flowing down her shoulders. “They said that I served well and the Great Lord was pleased. Same as always.”
“And Rhykana?”
It had been a year since she learned the trick of breathing to ignore heat or cold. Yet she still broke out in cold sweat.
“What of Rhykana? She is still an Accepted, if that is what you -”
He interrupted her.
“What did you tell them of Rhykana?”
She sputtered.
“How did you - ?”
“Tell me Mirin. You'd not like it if I have to repeat myself again.”
Her eyes flashed.
“I told them that Rhykana is an excellent student. The Indigo sisters say that she has made incredible progress with making ter’angreal. Although she has little patience with novices…”
Her words trailed off when the Asha’man raised his hand.
“Don’t be obtuse.” He spoke lightly, but Mirin heard the danger in his deceptively mild tone. “Tell me what I want to know.”
Mirin snarled. Her lips twisted unpleasantly and there was an ugly glint in her eye.
“I told them that Rhykana is petty and vengeful and far more dangerous than she appears. She hungers for power and thirsts for blood. But she has a conscience, especially when it comes to matters of relations between men and women. And then I told them of her ambition to climb to the top of the Black Ajah and to drown the world in the blood of her revenge. Is that what you wanted to know?”
His teeth gleamed.
“And so you break yet another oath.”
She rolled her eyes. Sometimes it was better not to ask where the man got his information.
“When I swore that oath to her, I did not know what I do now. Time has passed. I am older and wiser. To put it simply, I’ve changed my mind. What of it?”
“You also promised that you would be loyal. To me.”
She blinked. Is that what this was all about? A small smile touched her lips.
“I did. That was a particularly weak moment of mine. We were… engaged in a pleasant activity, if I recall correctly.”
He laughed throatily, and his hand brushed against her hip to pull her close. “Do you ever make a promise that you intend to keep?”
She pretended to be offended. Her eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at him. “I intend to but –”
“But then events never occur as you expect. How wonderfully convenient. I wonder, Mirin, have you begun considering how you will betray me too?”
Mirin stiffened, prompting Emmond to laugh. “Never mind. Let us speak of more pleasant matters. Today marks a year and a day since you swore to the Black Ajah. You have passed all your tests and are now fully sworn to the Great Lord. This calls for a celebration. Come. I have something for you.”
He took her by the wrist. Mirin followed along, unresisting. Her other hand began to unbutton the front of her dress.
“Emmond, really? Your bedroom? I was expecting –”
She walked through his bedroom door and froze. There was a woman there, gagged and tied spread-eagle to the four posts of his bed.
Mirin whirled on Emmond. “What is the meaning of this?”
He smiled crookedly. His eyes dropped down to where her bodice was hanging open.
“A different gift of the flesh than what you were expecting? The Great Lord rewards those who serve, Mirin.”
Mirin approached the bed and ripped away the gag.
“Mirin! You are a Light-forsaken fool,” said Aria Sedai. Even bound to the bed and faced with death, she appeared as calm as only an Aes Sedai could be. “I should have known. From the day I saw you practicing Compulsion, I knew you would turn from the Light!”
Mirin was not listening. Her mind focused on one, simple question: How did Emmond know? Mirin had spent many nights thinking about how best to seek revenge on the woman who had stolen three years of labor from her. The woman who had found Mirin’s Talent in Compulsion and exploited it for her own reputation. The woman who had betrayed her to Lydarian Sedai and set her on the path to the Shadow.
But she had not breathed a word of her hatred for Aria Sedai to anyone. Am I so transparent? she worried. She did not dare to turn and look at Emmond.
The Yellow sister was still speaking. Foolish prattle, really. Mirin’s hand flew forward and struck the woman on the cheek. While Aria was stunned, Mirin stuffed the gag back in her mouth.
Behind her, Emmond snorted.
A memory came to mind of when the Yellow sister had admonished her as she trained in the infirmary.
“Despite your strength in the Power, you are really quite… mediocre.”
Memory of those words renewed her rage. Mirin refused to be mediocre. The Black sister wanted nothing more than to be extraordinary. To be powerful. So that no one would dare to cross her, no one could take from her, no one could hurt her ever again!
She opened herself to saidar – and despite her anger, she hesitated.
She had tortured before. She had killed before. But never someone she knew so well. She had worked with Aria for over four years, and some of that time had been pleasant. As much as Mirin hated to admit it, the Yellow sister had taught her much of what she knew of Healing and helped her refine her skills in Compulsion.
Despite the hardness of her heart and the darkness of her soul, a small part of her realized that this night marked a point of no return. The Black Ajah had not commanded this murder for the advancement of their goals. As far as she knew, Aria’s death would be for her pleasure, and for her pleasure only. Truly, the Great Lord was generous.
A small part of her felt sick.
She felt Emmond’s presence behind her before she heard his breath in her ear. His hands slowly moved to encircle her waist.
“We have all night, my dear,” he murmured. Which meant that his patience was wearing thin. Mirin drew out a thread of Spirit and began to weave.
It took a little time, but soon Aria began to writhe and beg and scream. Slowly, her cries grew weaker. And then there was nothing at all.
Her body tingled with fulfilled pleasure and satisfied exhaustion. She pulled the bed sheets around her and rested her head on Emmond’s chest. Aria’s body had been returned to her room in the Yellow Ajah, where a servant would eventually discover it. She would be assumed to have died in her sleep.
Emmond’s eyes were closed. She knew better than to assume that he was asleep. She admired the hard lines of his body as she tried to sort the tumultuous emotions storming through her.
Aria was dead. Mirin had expected to feel something different. Guilt or relief, or maybe a sense of justice and righteous retribution. Instead, she felt nothing. Nothing had changed. The emptiness bothered her more than it should have. She shifted uncomfortably. Emmond’s arm tightened around her.
“Stop squirming,” he murmured. Then he reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. “What’s on your mind that has you so troubled?”
She curled around him. “Death,” she whispered. “I’m thinking of death and evil.”
“Evil is evil, Mirin. Lesser, greater, middling. It is all the same to me. The degree is arbitrary, the definition blurred. There must be balance in the world and to give to one is to take from another. That’s the right way of it.”
“Let us speak tomorrow,” she said. She was tired from channeling and desperately wanted to sleep.
“No,” he said. “We will speak now.” He twisted and pinned her under his weight. She stared at him, wide-eyed. His mouth parted into a cruel smile.
"There is only evil and power. Here's a bedtime story for you. As you know, my parents died when I was young, leaving me alone with my sister. A kind man took us in, only requiring a little hard labor in exchange for his hospitality. But then he forced himself on my sister despite her protests. When she resisted, well, then he beat her so hard that she could barely move, even the following day. So one morning, before the sun had risen over the horizon, I slashed his throat with a knife."
Cold steel flashed in the candlelight. Emmond caught Mirin’s hand and brought it close to the flat part of the blade. His fingers wrapped around hers almost tenderly.
“That knife wasn’t nearly as fine as this one, and it took quite a bit of hacking to get through his neck. As I listened to him gurgle and choke, watched him kick and flail, I felt so joyful, so happy... I could not stop smiling. My sister and I took his coin and left, whistling and skipping. And it's the same each time.”
Abruptly he shifted and she felt the knife press against her throat.
“So, Mirin. Discard of those silly scruples and do it quickly, my dear, because I will not be so forgiving the next time you hesitate. There is only room in this world for evil and power. Am I clear?”
She felt the pressure at her throat, and the trembling of his hand. She saw the pleasure shining in his eyes. She could not give in to him. She could not show weakness. To fear is to die. I must not fear…
She sneered.
“A young boy and his sister skipping away into the sunset, how it tugs at my heartstrings! Please, Emmond, spare me the tales of petty revenge. Your emotions blind you and lead you astray. My only concern tonight was whether or not Aria’s death was truly necessary for the advancement of our Master’s goals.”
Emmond bared his teeth. “None of this is necessary, Mirin. Did you really think the silly little tasks assigned to you only served the Great Lord?”
“Of course not! But I rather prefer the calculated use of power rather than wasting it to worship false gods of vengeance.”
“I never took you to be so naïve! Listen, Mirin. We do this because we love the power. You enjoyed Aria’s screams tonight. I saw how you smiled. You love the pain, and the power, and the evil. So do I. Admit it. You and I, we are the same.”
No, we are not, thought Mirin. In him, there was only pain and anger and fear. He knows of only death and evil. I am different. I can love. I am a teacher. I treat my students well. I am a highly-regarded servant of the Tower. I am…
Then she remembered that Emmond, too, held a high position in the Tower. Within his Ajah, his work was extraordinary. He served as a diplomat and forged alliances for the Tower. He was a skilled mediator, a wise advisor, a strong negotiator.
She took in a deep, shuddering breath. And felt her emotions settling into… acceptance.
Her voice came as a whisper. “What am I?”
The pressure of the knife grew stronger and almost she imagined that she would not be the only woman to die in his bed tonight. Then abruptly Emmond released her and tossed the blade to the floor.
“We are what we are, Mirin,” he said. He sat up at the edge of the bed and turned away. “When I cut my finger, I bleed. I sleep when I’m tired and get a headache when I’m drunk. I sing when I’m happy and I swear when I'm angry. When I hate someone I kill them and when I love…”
Mirin’s eyes widened, but then Emmond shook his head and strode to the window, where light peeked from the edge of the window curtains. He lifted a corner, peered outside, and then turned to the bed.
“Come look, Mirin. The sunrise is beautiful. Careful, don’t step on the knife.”
He took her hand and led her from the bed. Then he threw back the curtain. Mirin gasped. She often rose early but rarely looked out a window to appreciate the dawning of a new day. Soft colors painted the sky in faint pastel, and shimmering rays stretched up from the horizon to push back the darkness of the night. She leaned against Emmond, who wrapped his arms around her. They stood there in silence, listening as the first bell tolled to declare the beginning of a new day.
In the quarters of the Yellow Ajah, a servant pulled back the sheets of a bed. She stared for a moment, too shocked to speak. Then, the screaming began.
