Fanfic:The Making of Manners
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The group of rescuers and rescued, now quite a large group, had journeyed what they judged to be a safe distance from the Hold where Liana had been held captive. The Aiel there were too busy being sorted by Janwill's people - who were of course instrumental in the successful escape - to give chase. Janwill's folk had taken the hold and were selecting their customary portion of the hold's goods and people. Those who belonged to theTower had found a place where huge red-and-black rocks jutted out of the arid soil, and dry, prickly plants grew in abundance.
Lembirt's voice, cool and melodic, drifted out from a place where two large stones met and almost formed a cave.
"...So I am sure you understand why it would be easier or all involved, including Aetha, if this matter were kept as quiet as possible upon our return to the Grey Tower?"
It was that minute fraction of time, after the blazing sun set but before the nighttime cold set in, when the Waste was actually rather pleasant. Lembirt had taken off his black Asha'man's coat and folded it in order to place something between his backside and the hard, stony ground. He had come back here to polish his boots and try to sort through his turbulent thoughts. He hadn't expected Liana to come looking for him here, but she had. He literally had no way out, but however much he worried about the questions, he would not have left anyway. Any moment in her company was one worth extending.
His question remained unanswered as Liana turned her eyes downward to the sand-strewn floor. Disquiet curled inside her and it warred with the warm pressure of her heart. She had thought perhaps distance would have numbed her regard for him, but it had only strengthened it. Now, hearing the tale, she learned how Lembirt had violated custom. Bonding a Warder against his wishes was akin to rape, and Liana could not imagine how she would defend that action to another Sister, or, Light forbid, her grandmother.
But to her knowledge, Aetha had not protested when he was bonded, nor did the Aethan Dor seem adverse to Lembirt or to being his Warder. If there was no conflict between them, then was it her place to intervene? It was also against custom for her to interfere with another's bond, or with an Asha'man or Aes Sedai's actions, unless she was certain they would lead to disaster. She was not certain.
Liana began after a long silence, "I cannot lie if asked directly or compelled by law," she said evenly. "Yet I shall not volunteer this which is not mine," she finished slowly, and glanced his way.
"That is all that I would ask of you, Liana Sedai," he replied. There was a moment of silence, occupied by the dusk songs of unidentified birds and the soft rustling of the polishing cloth against Lembirt's boot.
"Why did you come?" she asked simply, beckoning him to return her gaze.
Lembirt set his boot aside, upright so that the sand would not mar the latest coat of polish. His eyes were fixed on the tin of black polish as he closed it, on the cloth as he folded it, on anything but the Lady who sat so near, yet was as untouchable as though she were across the Aryth Ocean.
Lembirt was not an honest man. His secrets were to him as gold to a miser. He kept them not for any useful purpose, but merely to have, to have something to fill in the empty places inside himself. He could easily have found a way around his Oath, to conceal his real reason for being there. If it were anyone else that addressed him, he would have.
But he owed Liana honesty. He had harmed her before with calculated words. He would not, could not do so again.
He looked up, finally meeting her eyes. Once he had sculpted an Illusion portrait of this woman, using all of his considerable skills to mimic her eyes in Power-wrought light. He hadn't come close to doing justice to the original.
"I met with Caithlan in Cairhien in hopes that I might take some small step toward mending the rift that has formed between us since my return to the Tower. His manner led me to believe that be had become aware of some crisis through the Bond." That did not answer the question of "why" but rather the question of "how." He continued. "I came because I could not abide the thought that you might be in any danger or discomfort, and that there was anything within my power to ease your distress that I failed to do."
Liana smiled softly and with warmth. She looked away to mask the flush that came over her. "I am glad for it, and you have my most sincere thanks." Of course, the expression of her gratitude was for his efforts to liberate her, but it was also for making amends with Caithlan, who was so dear to her. The strife between them had anguished her. Yet, Liana caught hints that there was something more, and now the one question had split in twain. She was still afraid of the answer to one, the most pressing of the two, and so she asked the other.
"And your rift with him is mended then?" it was almost a rhetorical question. She had seen their disposition and had not failed to notice that Lembirt addressed Caithlan by his name and not as "Warder". Yet, she was also uncertain. Caithlan was decidedly awkward near Lembirt and avoided him as much as was feasible. He had even taken the first watch, thus allowing him to return to camp after everyone but the Warders were sleeping. "Forgive me for asking," she hesitated slightly, "yet I can not fail to be aware that there is something other than friendship between you, and it seems . . . unsettled." Liana observed carefully, "Did something else occur between you on this journey?"
The awkwardness that Liana had observed in Caithlan made itself equally visible in Lembirt. His eyes flickered away from hers for a moment, settling briefly on his hands where they were folded in his lap before returning once more to meet her gaze. "I do not believe that Caithlan likes me, nor do I believe that our disharmony is yet resolved." That was the easy part of the answer.
"As for what has happened between us, well, I would not presume to interpose myself between an Aes Sedai and her Gaidin. I would not keep the matter secret, but I do not know how Caithlan feels. I believe it would be best if you asked him about what transpired."
This did not satisfy her query, but Liana understood and respected his reasons. She nodded and then said, "I will, then." Looking up to the now full darkness, she commented, "The end of his watch draws neigh, I will leave you now," and rose to standing.
Lembirt also rose, gathered his things, and retired to his tent.
The path to the tent was not far, but as she saw a dark figure descending the red rocky heights, her pace quickened. The effects of the forkroot were beginning to wear, but not near enough to permit her to gate the party home. Now, she could but manage to form a small star to guide her way back. She paused outside of their tent, and waited. The sounds of night-birds dissipated, perhaps taking flight elsewhere, and insects she could now name buzzed with activity. The flames of dusk-fire had died down to sleepy embers, and she watched the orange and yellow change places with dark coal. The air had rapidly cooled and the party drew into their warm tents to sleep the chill away.
When Caithlan came near, the light in her hand danced shadows over his face. They needed no words, but they did draw into a silent embrace. As his lips touched hers she felt warmth return to her cheeks and send a shiver rippling down to her toes. It had been too long since they had been alone, and she felt him as eager to close the remaining distance as she was. It was said (she could not remember where) that after great trauma and fear one was naturally liberal with one's nightly actions for a time. Indeed, she felt something like a Cairhienen at the Feast of Lights, particularly as he breathed sweet kisses down her neck. Yet she was an Indigo Sister. She thirsted for answers and her curiosity was not quenched.
When Caithlan closed the tent flap behind him, he knew that Liana was about to ask a question. The light of the One Power illumined the space around them, but it was not as bright or fine as the glow within her. For a moment Caithlan forgot himself and simply stared struck as a pole-axed ox, taking in the reality of her presence and well-being.
" . . . on your way to finding me?"
She woke him from his reverie, and he remembered. "Hm?" he asked, embarrassed.
"What happened between you and Lembirt Asha'man on your way to finding me?" Liana asked again, gentler this time.
Slight embarrassment plummeted into deep shame. Caithlan tore his eyes away from hers, searching the space for something anything to take refuge on. "We . . we don't talk about that." quickly he pulled her saddlebags closer and made great show of inspecting them for the journey home. Something could have gone missing, or Light forbid, there could be a tear. "What happens in the Waste, stays in the Waste."
A sigh. "Caithlan," her eyes were penetrating even when he avoided them, "you swore that you are mine, and all of your secrets."
He was afraid, so afraid to meet those eyes and drive her away with the carnal truth.
She he said nothing, and waited. Liana had been angry with him before for keeping the truth from her, and when he did look up, he knew he could keep nothing from her. Not anymore.
Caithlan's hands still rested on the saddle straps; they were loose and fraying, and needed mending. His fingers worried the leather. He swallowed and then told her of their journey here, halting at first, and then with haste over the night he did not wish to describe. He spoke as if she would not notice when he rode over it like the Light-abiding through Shadar Logoth.
At first Liana was struck with absolute bemusement; but she was not angry, nor did she condemn what he had done. It was not in her nature. What acceptance she naturally possessed was developed by her experience in the Three-fold-land. She drew close and he took comfort in her embrace. Caithlan lost himself in the feel of her, the smell of her hair, and her touch. He felt her stroking the scars that ran ragged down his back. As if she had the power to smooth them away. And he just . . . he just breathed.
"What now?" his dearest asked.
"I don't know . . ." Caithlan confessed, he couldn't believe she understood; he didn't understand! " . . . I was hoping you would know." he pulled away and looked to her, but she remained there, seated patiently. He ran a hand through his dark stringy hair.
Light, where was a flask of brandy when he needed one?
"What do you desire?"
Caithlan's ears burned and he rubbed the back of his neck. He needn't look at her to know that she was blushing too. He couldn't believe she accepted it. It was the very first time he realized he wanted the same as her, the same some-one. These moments, these precious few, when they spoke without words were not common for them. Not yet. But he savored it and knew she did too.
"Come," Liana suggested with a small smile, and reached for his hand, "the night, 'tis not o'er yet."
The daylight was quickly fading when Lembirt retired to his tent, and the thick canvas walls prevented what feeble illumination there was from reaching the interior. Lembirt seized saidin and brightened the tent not with a ball of light or a dancing flame as one of his less imaginative Brothers might have, but with an Illusion of a cheery glass lantern hanging from the center pole.
Lembirt felt anything but cheery. He was certain that Caithlan would tell Liana of their... encounter. What he was not certain of was how she would react. How would he have responded if their positions were reversed? Not particularly well. After all, he had nearly set Caithlan on fire upon his return to the Tower. Though, he could admit now that the reaction had been one of jealousy or perhaps envy. Yet, tonight? Well, he could identify with Liana somewhat more than he had before. Caithlan was an attractive man.
Lembirt brushed out his coat and folded it neatly atop his saddlebags for tomorrow. He applied a further coat of polish to his boots, letting the mundane tasks that he had performed nearly every night of his adult life block out his anxiety. Just after he finished that task, while he contemplated extinguishing his lantern and going to sleep, someone tapped at the flap of his tent.
"Yes?" he called pleasantly into the night, "may I help you?"
He did not know who had come to call. He knew who he hoped it was, of course.
For an instant, Liana hesitated. Ella had encouraged her not to give up on Lembirt and kindled Liana's meager hope. Yet, what if she was wrong? What if Liana had misread Lembirt's disposition towards her? What if he desired only to forget his entanglement with Caithlan, and what they were about to do would only humiliate them all three?
Liana glanced over her shoulder at Caithlan. She partially expected him to urge her away, or show some sign of reluctance or discomfort with what they were about to do. But when she touched that corner of her mind which was him, he was as solid and stalwart as a fieldstone.
She ducked inside.
The Indigo Sitter entered the tent, and to Lembirt it seemed to grow both brighter and warmer. Her Warder followed behind, and it seemed that it grew smaller as well. Lembirt could not help but remember what had happened the last time he and Caithlan had shared such an enclosed space. But that was neither here nor there. Lembirt glanced away from the Gaidin and instead fixed Liana with a small, tentative smile, waiting for her to speak.
Liana settled herself and arranged her skirts on the floor of Lembirt's tent, just inside the tent flap. Caithlan crouched on the other side, opposite her and Lembirt, forming a triangle. Liana was uncertain how to begin; after a moment she composed her first statement, and began, "I know what you shared now and what remains between you . . ." she paused, ". . . and while I confess I do not fully understand, I accept it." her gaze turned to Caithlan briefly, "I am gladdened that your regard has become amicable."
Liana returned to addressing Lembirt. Her insides fluttered violently, and her hands threatened to clench her skirts. She willed them to stillness and her expression to the composure. Light!
Simply sitting in his presence coaxed it from her. Without thinking, she asked heedless of what painful reply he might give her, "Lembirt," she faltered, all too aware of the last occasion when she had confessed her feelings for him and the anguish it had wrought, "I confess, you still have my affection . . ." she glanced to Caithlan for support again, and witnessed him nod slightly. Again she spoke, ". . . my love. Thus I am compelled to ask, do you still love me as well?"
Lembirt couldn't lie. He wouldn't have, anyway. "Yes," he said, without hesitation. He touched a hand briefly to his black silk shirt, over his chest. "As long as this heart beats, I will love you."
The weight of pain and uncertainty fell from her like a heavy burden. Her cheeks colored. Leaning forward she asked him, "If so, then why did you spurn me?"
This time, Lembirt did hesitate. Why indeed? How could be explain it so that she would understand his motives? He had not done a particularly good job explaining it to Caithlan, after all.
"When you told me of your indecision," it was clear which indecision he referred to, "I came to realize that my attempts to court you had only brought you misery, not the joy that I wished for. I knew then that if we wed, Caithlan would always be a shadow on your heart, and my presence would only be a wedge driven into your Bond. If, on the other hand, you married Caithlan, then I could lock away my feelings for you where they could not harm you. You would be happy, and we would always have the Hall - if I could only be your colleague, I would become content with that in time. It seemed the right thing to do."
"Oh, Lembirt . . " moved by his sentiment, Liana extended a hand to hold his once more. She knew Caithlan was surprised by Lembirt's reasoning, but he understood now. She even felt respect rekindling there. Perhahps, if their places had been reversed, Caithlan might have chosen the same action to protect her.
To both of them she said, "Among my father's people, a man may take two wives." and glanced between each man, "I do not see why a woman may not have two husbands if they are agreed." She smiled gently and tilted her head, "My heart has room enough for both of you."
Lembirt raised a hand and trailed it against her cheek in the gentlest of caresses, as though he feared she would vanish like one of his Illusions. "But Liana," he protested, "I do not - I mean, propriety..." he trailed off.
Liana leaned into his hand. She opened her eyes and said with gentle longing, "My dear, we are the makers of manners."
For once, Lembirt had no carefully crafted reply. Instead, he merely kissed her with the passion his words could not express.
