Fanfic:The Walk of Life
| Author(s) | |
|---|---|
| Character(s) |
|
This is a piece of fanfiction. Only the original author(s) or Librarian(s) should make content changes to this page. |
Yellow Ajah Weave
Coughs tore at Ninya's throat, and tears filled her eyes. It felt like her body had forgotten to breath. She struggled to inhale, unaware that she was blindly clawing at the air in front of her. When would it end? As she sank to her knees, she saw the yellow step rushing up to meet her, blinding her with its brightness. She desperately struggled to stand, the yellow making her even more nauseous then she had been before. As soon as she had attained her feet, everything disappeared and she stood in darkness. Her stomach rebelled; standing in darkness like that, she felt as if she were falling endlessly.
She clung to sanity, to her retching belly, to her memory of the yellow stair that had so disgusted her. Even as she remembered it, other memories came in. The Yellow fringe of an Aes Sedai swayed in her mind; a gentle hand seemed to touch her, and the nausea eased. A memory of a face, ageless yet somehow pleasant, filled her consciousness; as it did, the torturous coughs seemed to become a distant dream. She straightened, and the coughing eased, the nausea reduced to simple unpleasantness. With clearer eyes, she saw a flash of yellow fire, forming the number eighteen. Nodding, a new resolve giving a new stiffness to her stance, she embraced saidar, the ecstasy of the One Power both a blessing and a curse, for with the pleasure came magnified knowledge of the condition of her body.
She wove the flows for simple Healing, the only kind she could control. They formed in the air without having any place to go, and then seemed to snap around the number that hovered before her eyes, sinking into its depths. Just as suddenly the discomfort in her stomach vanished, to be replaced with a new kind of nausea. Her entire consciousness seemed to spiral into a pinhole at the edge of reality, and she wondered fleetingly whether she had lost her sanity.
Yellow Ajah Step
The world swirled back into existence, and Ninya stumbled out into a street she knew far too well. Its official name was Codevaine's Alley, after the man who had originally built a house at its end, but the more common name was Beggar's End...and not because it was a place free of beggars. This street was where the old, the sick, and those too young to survive on their own went to die. The reek of death, refuse, and despair assailed her senses, and she had to stop for a moment to collect her senses before taking a step forward. She had come here to report on the city's condition, in hopes of convincing the Hall to send some funding to the wretched poor of her home town. Memories of where she had grown up did not soften the reality of what she saw.
Even as she looked about, she realized that no grant of money could prevent these people from dying alone and uncared for. If funds were channeled into improving this district, the organized gangs of the eastern side of Katar would move in and take what was given, driving the truly needy to a different section of the city. Failing that, the self-styled nobility of this Light-forsaken town would tax every last coin out of those lucky enough to receive them. It was a failure before it even began. The bitter taste of defeat filled her mouth, and she turned to leave.
Even as she did, she realized that her presence had attracted attention. Although she had dressed plainly for her visit, and had carried nothing valuable with her, her posture had marked her apart from the rest. She tried to ignore their glances; she moved resolutely northwards, towards the mouth of the alley. After only a few steps, guilt overcame her. She stood in place, staring helplessly at the mobs about her. She had nothing to give them, no way to help, save for a single copper penny. She couldn't even Heal the wounds and diseases that were crippling many of them, because she had no Talent for it. Finally she forced herself to move onwards, going through novice exercises in her head as she walked, to keep herself distant from their reaching hands and pleading voices.
Within a few spans of the end of the alley she stopped. She couldn't help herself. A little girl huddled there, holding a broken bit of red pottery that might once have been a cup. She had long brown hair, and china-pale skin. Her face was hidden, but her voice was pleading. "Please mistress, just a penny..." she trailed off as a cough tore through her frail frame. Despite herself, Ninya sank to her knees beside the child, pulling the pottery from her scrawny hands. The girl clutched feebly at it, but then let it go, all her attention going to the coughs that distorted her body.
I cannot Heal this, Ninya thought helplessly. I am not Talented enough. Despite that, she channeled, saidar flowing through her. Her stomach turned as the scent of the alley amplified, but she remained focused on the little girl. She wove Healing, and took her time with the flows. Every line was in place, the right strength, the right intensity. She could not afford to mess up. She tied it off, and watched it sink into the little beggar. The coughing stopped, and the girl lay still for a moment as Ninya stared at her in horror.
Then she stirred, and even as she turned towards Ninya, the world went black.
Green Ajah Weave
Senses returned. She was naked on the Great Stair, her feet seeming rooted to the honey-colored stone beneath her. The torches to either side of her blinked out, and she blinked in surprise. There was something she was supposed to do.... Oh yes. cIt seemed to take an eternity for her to gather the strength to step forward. Her left foot landed on the green stair, and her right foot followed soon after. She stood still and silent, wary of what would happen next. The Greens were the Battle Ajah, they had to face battles and danger directly. What would the stair bring her?
Concern and unease filled her belly when nothing happened. Had she failed the test? She looked around cautiously then turned to look forward again. Even as she did, an axe spun past her face, the cold air of its passing blowing her hair backwards. A knife brushed past her hips, an arrow just grazed the backs of her knees. A blur of silver barely missed her shoulder. The assault seemed to last forever, but no number appeared. Ninya dared not move at first, but then she slowly turned her head in the direction that the weapons came from. A flash of green light filled the air, forming the number eighty seven.
Sighing with relief, Ninya channeled; although common sense would have decreed that a wall of Air would stop the weapons, instead she wove Spirit and Air. The weave for Shielding a channeler appeared before her. As on the yellow step, it felt odd to weave something that normally required a target, but even as she tied it off, it seemed to disappear into the number that hovered into the air before her. A flash of silver filled her vision, and everything vanished.
Green Ajah Step
The village she had found herself in was not well-off, but neither was it poverty stricken. She had little experience with small communities, but she suspected it was a fairly normal establishment. The people there seemed to accept life as it came, the good with the bad. They enjoyed meeting strangers; Ninya's arrival a few days before had caused an impromptu festival. Life had returned to normal the next day. Ninya had not yet found a way to explain to the villagers why she was there. Seanchan were in the area. How to explain to a village of simple people what the Seanchan were and what they would do? How to reveal what she herself was, without inducing panic? For some, Aes Sedai were as deeply loathed as Darkfriends, and she had heard some of the talk at night in the tavern when the local farmers told her their tales of the past. She looked up from her notes, and saw the mayor come into the common room. Resolving herself, she set down her pen and went to him. "Master Morwin," she said, and he turned to look at her.
Even as she opened her mouth to speak, she heard a shout from the green, and then a scream of terror. The color drained out of Kalid Morwin's face and he turned to leave; Ninya followed, already embracing the Source as she ducked through the door. As she had feared, a group of men dressed in insect-like helms were marching towards the village; to either side of the group were a pair of women; each had a woman in grey, and another in blue with red panels and lightning bolts down the skirts. Sul'dam and damane- the greatest weapon the Seanchan had, including pure terror of the unknown. She saw the two sul'dam stiffen and look towards her, saw the damane focus. She ducked and jumped out of the way as the ground exploded beneath her and the air seemed to compress as thunder rolled. The Seanchan kept on, and the villagers simply stood there, shock rooting their feet to the ground. The Seanchan were still a ways away; there was still time to escape.
"RUN!" Ninya cried, her voice strident enough to be heard even above the rolling thunder. The villagers slowed in shock, and she ground her teeth. "The men coming towards you are not friends," she said, her voice utterly calm despite the fear in her heart and the volume at which she spoke. "If you wish to live, you will run as if the very hounds of the great hunt were at your heels. Take your women and children. Do not come back, and do not stop running. Tell anyone you meet to run as well. GO!" She waved her arms, and without looking, she knew the villagers had scattered, running for their lives. She returned her attention to the damane. They were channeling again, but she didn't know or care what they were planning.
Instead, as if she had all the time in the world, she channeled flows of Spirit and Air that arched through the air and wrapped around the damane, and tightened. The shields slid into place with an almost audible click; even as the damane convulsed in surprise, the Seanchan faltered. She held the shield, channeling more and more into it until she thought the world would come apart. At last, when not a villager remained in sight, she released the flows....and fell forward, into a rapidly expanding pool of green light.
Blue Ajah Weave
It felt as if she had surfaced after nearly drowning. She gasped for breath, waiting for the pain in her chest to ease. Light, I could have burned myself out, she thought frantically. Even as her pulse began to slow, the green torches went out, and she knew it was time to move on. The next step was the hardest. After all, the Blue Ajah was the Ajah she wished to join; what would the step show her? What would she learn? She wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. After a long moment of hesitation, she forced herself forward. One step. That was all. Then she stood solidly on the blue stone, staring down at its cobalt depths. Suddenly they winked out of existence, and she stood once more in darkness.
She looked around, and realized she was not alone. A statue stood to her left. She went to it, examining it in awe. The woman held a pair of scales, but they were off balance, the left hand plate nearly touching the ground with the weight of the stones that were mounded upon it. There was no sign of a number to continue on, but it seemed to her as if the statue were weeping inconsolably; something had gone terribly wrong, and only Ninya could fix it. "Balance must be achieved at all cost," a memory of a voice floated in the darkness. She could not recall who had told her that, but it had set her on her path towards her Ajah. If balance must be reached...resolutely, she reached for one of the stones on the scale.
She had moved three before realizing that what she had originally thought were simple round rocks were skulls, petrified into stone. Her hands recoiled from the fourth and she stared at it in horror for a long moment. What am I doing here? She looked up at the statue's weeping face, and firmed her resolve. She had to go on, had to become Aes Sedai. She wrapped her fingers around the skull and moved it to the right hand plate. Again, and again. With each new skull, she murmured a prayer to the Light for the fallen one's salvation. Slowly, the scales shifted, until they stood in steady balance. She risked another glance at the lady's face; the tears had faded, but she still seemed sorrowful. About her neck, a necklace that Ninya had not previously noticed began to glow; the number sixty five shed radiant light on Ninya.
Smiling, she embraced the Source, her path clear again. The flows that created eavesdropping seemed to form themselves between her fingers. She wove and wove; when she had completed the flows, an arch of light flickered into existence between her body and the necklace the lady wore; a roar like the ocean filled her hearing and reality faded.
Blue Ajah Step
The laden air of the bogs of Illian took her breath away, even within the shaded walls of Lord Keranon' manor. It was a hearing day; local residents brought their grievances to the Lord for justice. Today was particularly special in the eyes of the common folk because an Aes Sedai was there to assist in the ruling. Ninya herself was uncomfortable with the near-worship that the residents of the town had shown her. She was an Aes Sedai, true, but she was also quite young, and she had no more innate knowledge of how to fairly run a village than the blacksmith did...and possibly less. So she sat quietly, and if Keranon asked for advice, she responded as best she could, in a quiet tone.
The next person in line was a man in shackles, accompanied by several guards. Behind him, a young woman with the red eyes of someone who had been crying for a long while stood, arms crossed and head bowed. "My lord, Kevan Devanos do stand accused of murdering his daughter's husband," the man in charge of explaining the cases said. As his voice cut over the lower murmur of the crowd, utter silence fell. Murder was unusual enough in a large city, let alone a minor duchy. "He do claim that he did it for love of his daughter, Enara. He do say the man beat Enara, but there be no proof that it did happen, and Enara herself do no wish to speak." Ninya had had her eyes on the young woman the entire time; her posture had not changed. If anything, she seemed an image of defeat, loss, and disbelief. She shifted her gaze to the man, and noticed he seemed to have similar feelings, though he occasionally twisted to look at his daughter. He did not seem a cold-blooded murderer.
"No evidence do make this difficult to judge on," Keranon said, but his heart did not seem to be in it. It was fairly clear to Niny at least that he had already decided the man was guilty of his crime. "Do tell me why you did decide to do this, Kevan." He sat back in his chair as if to listen, but Ninya leaned forward. As Kevan spoke, she channeled the flows for eavesdropping and allowed them to wrap throughout the crowd. She barely heard the man's stammered explanation. His words did not matter any way; in a biased court and with little evidence, he could talk until he was blue in the face and not get out of an appointment with the gibbet. Instead, she focused on the snatches of conversation her flows caught.
"Mother Joslyn, did no Enara come to you for a poultice a few weeks back?" A female voice, timid and shy spoke.
"Yes, fortune prick me, she did, Yesmin," the voice was elderly and cracked; Ninya scanned the crowd until she saw a whip-thin woman speaking to an older woman with white hair and a wizened face. "She did say she fell down the stairs, but that Jaxon...I do no think he could handle his ale. He did break Master Remarlin's tables once...it would no surprise me if he did also break Enara's face." Interesting. Ninya turned her attention to Enara. The young woman was rocking back and forth now, biting her lip and sobbing. Her gaze had shifted from her feet to staring at her father's back, and her fingernails had dug red grooves into her bare arms.
The lord had stood, obviously ready to give his judgement. Ninya stood also, releasing the Source as she did. "My lord Keranon," she said clearly. Eyes turned towards her; even when giving advice she had done so in a voice inaudible to the crowd. This time, it was imperative her knowledge be public. "This man may have killed Jaxon," she saw Enara stiffen; no one had given Ninya the victim's name, after all, "but he did not do so in cold blood." She turned to the crowd. "Mother Joslyn, could you please come forward? Bring Yesmin with you." A path parted almost automatically for the pair to move forward. Murmurs had started again.
"Mother Joslyn was just telling Yesmin that Jaxon was apt to breaking furniture when he was in his cups. Am I correct?" The woman stared at her in round-eyed shock, then nodded, hastily spreading her skirts in a deep curtsy. Yesmin quickly followed suit. "She also said that recently, Enara came to her for a poultice because she had fallen down the stairs." Ninya's gaze turned to Enara; the dark woman seemed to wilt beneath her eyes. "Are you such a coward, girl, that you would allow your father to die to protect the man who beat you?"
The words seemed to cut through whatever walls of denial Enara had put up. She stumbled and fell to her knees, sobbing. "Yes...yes Jaxon did hurt me," she said, teeth chattering and eyes darting from one face to another. "What my father is saying is true. I do be sorry Papa, I do no wish you to die. I do be afraid of his family...so, so afraid." She fell over, curling into a ball in the dirt as she sobbed.
"I hope that with this new knowledge, justice may be served properly." Ninya said, her eyes meeting Keranon's in mute challenge. After a moment of staring at her in shock, the lord turned back to the crowd. As he opened his mouth to speak, everything seemed to lose color and depth, flattening into an image that eventually faded into brilliant light.
Indigo Ajah Weave
For a brief moment Ninya saw the statue's face superimposed over the Great Stair. The tears had faded, and the lady's eyes opened to stare intently at Ninya. Well met, young one, a voice seemed to murmur, and then it was gone. As it vanished, the blue flames to either side of the stair went out. It was time to move on to the indigo step. She took the step much quicker than the last three; once this ordeal was complete, she would be over halfway done. I will be Aes Sedai!
The light seemed to magnify and distort and she settled on the indigo stone, wrapping around her in a way that made her slightly queasy. The air itself seemed tinged indigo, as if viewing everything through a fog. The temperature had also raised; she could feel the heat bathing her skin, growing in intensity until she wanted to scream from the pain. Even as she suppressed the desire, lightning arched through the air to impact on the stone in front of her. Even as she blinked in surprise, it was gone, but rather than the afterimage of the light, all Ninya could see was the number seventy seven.
The heat had built again, and the torches to either side seemed ready to fly into pieces; they crackled and sizzled, and a feeling of dread began to build within Ninya. Resolutely, she channeled, forming saidar into the flows for Earth Delving. It was so easy she was barely conscious of doing it. It had always been so with that flow, and she knew that with proper training it would become even easier. She directed the flows into the torches, strengthening the stone that held them, while at the same time giving it some outlet for the energy that struggled to get out. She tied off the flows....and the torches vanished.
Indigo Ajah Step
Ninya had traveled a lot; somehow she knew that, though she had few memories of her travels. This time she sat in the common room of the only inn in the village of Cedar Crossing. It was somewhere in the heart of the Caralain Grass, a place where most people would not dare to travel, let alone live their lives. Somehow they had lived there safely for several generations, outcasts from conventional society forming their own community out of reach of their ancestors' errors.
She had tried to hide what she was from the villagers, but they were a curious folk, and some were better-traveled than she had expected, without the sense to keep their experiences to themselves. It had taken only a few hours for the news that she was an Aes Sedai to spread, and she had given up on maintaining her façade in the interest of retaining trust. The interesting thing to her was that she had not been unwelcome. Instead, the villagers had made anxious pleasantries, begged her for stories, and put her up in their inn free of charge. She had every intention of leaving a purse of silver marks behind when she left, but they would not be aware of them until she was long gone.
It had taken only a few days for her to determine the source of their anxiety; while playing a few months before, a group of children had found an odd statue buried in a field, and brought it back to the village. Ever since its discovery, nothing had gone right. Crops had failed that had been promising before. Cattle had died, children had sickened, and their Wise Woman had simply vanished one night, taking their smith with her. Thankfully the man had left an apprentice behind, and no pressing need for a Wise Woman had occurred- yet. The villagers were suspicious however, and Ninya could not blame them. The timing certainly seemed right for the statue to be at fault, and in her studies, she had learned that ter'angreal could sometimes have such adverse affects.
At that moment she was waiting for Master Dallene to bring it to her, so she might examine it. Even as she looked up, he came through the door, carrying a bundle wrapped in burlap. He set it on the table as if eager to be rid of it, then took several steps back. "There you go, Aes Sedai," he said with a bow. "I'll just- be outside. Please get rid of it?" His voice betrayed his otherwise well-hidden terror. She simply nodded serenely, and as he left the room, she undid the bundle with quick fingers. As the folds of canvas fell away, she saw a small figure of a man, his fingers oddly twisted in front of him. A raven rested on his shoulder, and his coat seemed whipped by an unseen wind. Both of his eyes were missing; the gaping holes where they should have been caught her attention, and after a moment of staring at it in revulsion, she forced herself to look away.
Bad luck indeed, she thought. Leaving the inn, she walked out of the village. It felt like she walked for hours until she found a deserted place where it was unlikely to be disturbed. She dug a small hole in the dirt, and put the statuette into it. Then she covered it with earth again. The One Power flowed into her grasp, and she wrapped Earth and Air about the statue, and the earth that now embraced it. It was, without a doubt, the most complex weaving of Earth Delving she had ever created. Layer upon layer of flows wrapped about the statue; finally she added Spirit and Water, and a little Fire, and pulled it tight before tying off. When she touched the earth, it had turned into a solid block; it was not quite cuendillar, but an Age or more would pass before anyone discovered the key to getting past that shell...and in the mean time, the village was safe from its evil influence. She would bring the Indigos back to deal with it once she had returned to the Grey Tower.
She turned to leave, and her foot seemed to miss the ground. She fell into darkness.
Brown Ajah Weave
I wonder if that object actually exists, she thought. Her concern about it was so extreme she didn't even notice that the torches had gone out. Her next step was taken blindly; she only remembered where she was when the memory of her last ordeal faded and she was left feeling warm and comfortable; the scent of old books, paper, and ink filled her mind. The brown step seemed much more welcoming than the others; she looked about curiously, and noticed that an ancient book floated in thin air expectantly.
Carefully, she opened the cover. AS she did, a piece of the first page crumbled away, the dust carried upwards and into Ninya's face. She sneezed, eyes watering, but looked back to the book. The next step on her journey was in those moldering leaves- she could not give up. Holding one hand over her mouth and nose in a futile attempt to lessen the impact of the dust, she kept turning the pages; more often than not, they simply turned to dust before she'd even finished moving them. Through the blur of tears and her gasps for breath, she looked through nearly half of the enormous tome before she caught a glimpse of light; she turned the last page, and the number one appeared as if it had been burned into the page.
She stepped away, and channeled, the serene glow of saidar seeming to put everything at a distance. The first weave she had learned as a novice was easy; she wove Air and Fire, and a fist-sized globe of cool light appeared above her hand, hovering there as if waiting for her command. As she stared at it, it seemed to grow bigger and bigger until it overwhelmed everything else.
Brown Ajah Step
"Ninya!" The tall woman turned at the sound of her name, to see Varelin Sedai walking towards her. The woman was short and plump, and her double chin wobbled as she hurried to meet Ninya in the hallway. "I heard you like books," the Shienaran woman said as she drew closer, "And I need someone to help me find one in particular." Ninya turned back, and they moved further down the hall together, Ninya's blue silk whispering quietly and Varelin's simple cotton blowing freely.
"You see, in my studies, I learned of a book about the remarkable Talent of viewing how the pattern will weave a person's life- you have heard of it?" Ninya nodded slowly. She had; Viewing, or Pattern Viewing, was a very rare Talent indeed. "It was written by a scholar during the first three hundred years of the White Tower's existence. When the Grey Tower was formed, one of our founders brought the book with her...it is a treasure indeed, but it got lost during the Breaking of the Tower, and it is thought that perhaps it is in the cellars. Would you be interested in helping me look?"
Ninya stared at the woman in silence for a long moment. "Why ask me, and not another Brown or an Indigo?" She asked finally. It wasn't that she was adverse to the idea of looking in the cellars she simply did not understand why she was the one being asked.
"Light Ninya, you have the greatest Talent for Foretelling that the Grey Tower has seen in decades!" the Brown exclaimed, her serene face breaking into an excited smile. "Even if you are not a Brown or an Indigo, you know a great deal about the subject, and your knowledge may prove helpful in deciphering what the book is saying. You know how the older scholars always felt it necessary to write in High Chant...impossible to translate and equally impossible to apply to every day life." Varelin was so animated with excitement that Ninya could not say no; it was a harmless journey really, one that would do her no harm and might actually do her some good, if the book turned out to have any information about Foretelling. With a smile of acceptance, she followed the older Brown down the stairs.
They reached the cellars in a remarkably short amount of time, and Ninya ducked through the low doorway into one of the many rooms that held books that the Browns had not yet catalogued. They worked at it steadily, of course, but since more books came in with every peddler, merchant, tinker, and traveler, the store rooms never seemed to empty. Thankfully, even here they were somewhat organized; books about the same topic were, generally speaking, kept in the same area. Books on the One Power and Talents were in a warded room in the back, and it was there that Varelin lead her.
"You start on that side," the Brown said absent-mindedly, her thoughts already lost in the boxes of books stacked around her. "I'll begin here." Obediently, Ninya walked to the other side of the room, and opened a box. It was so dim, even with the torches, that she could not see the titles. After a moment, seeing that Varelin had become completely engrossed in her task, she channeled. Fire and Air wove together, and a ball of light appeared, however in mid air at shoulder level. By the pale light of saidar, she began her search. Hours passed end on end; she could not have said how long she looked through books. Occasionally she found a title that she found particularly intriguing, and set it aside for later perusal. It was not as if the Browns would deny another Aes Sedai access to that information.
Finally she found the book. It was titled Sights of the Pattern, with no author listed; after flipping through it carefully, she closed it, and tapped Varelin on the shoulder. "Here it is, Sister," she said. "In Middle Chant after all." The brown smiled, and reached for the book; as it touched her hand, it crumbled to dust that filled the room. She stumbled backwards, and the storeroom disappeared.
Grey Ajah Weave
She had been told that nothing should ever be taken at face value, and the Brown step was no different. Ninya returned to herself with a start. The dust had vanished, and she was breathing normally again. The air about her still felt warm and friendly, but before she could get too comfortable, the brown flames died, and the feeling along with it. It was time for the sixth step, the grey stone. She stared at it for a long moment before taking a slow, deliberate, step forward.
Her heels settled on the stone, and a parchment cylinder appeared before her, resting on a lectern. She reached for it, forcing herself to unroll it. Her fear that it, too, would disintegrate, were unfounded. Instead, she found the long prose of a peace treaty. How could Illian and Tear have come to such an agreement? She found herself thinking as she read it. Although much of the verbiage was very technical, she was fascinated by the details of the arrangement. Trading rights, army outposts, and political requirements were listed. Even as she read, she realized that her next step was hidden within, and her thoughts turned from the treaty itself to finding the clue.
Several feet of paper had been unrolled before a number that glowed softly silver appeared on the page: forty nine. Smiling, Ninya let the parchment roll closed, and turned her attention inwards. Saidar bloomed within her, but she hesitated before channeling. The Mask of Mirrors was a weave she had had little practice with, other than her by-rote weaving as an Accepted. It was certainly something she wanted to know more about. She firmly set her musings aside, and wove the flows about herself. She tied them off. A moment later, it felt as if someone had grabbed her by her belly button and was yanking her through clinging silver mist.
Grey Ajah Step
The first fight had broken out mere minutes after the two lords had arrived. Within an hour, a second had occurred, this time between their man servants. Two hours later, the two lords were, yet again, challenging each other to the death. It was a headache, and yet there was nothing to be done. The guest rooms were full, and it would be a personal affront to the higher-ranking nobility in the Tower to ask them to take smaller rooms simply to bring an end to the pointless fighting of two feuding Murandian lords.
Ninya's head hurt from dealing with the situation. As the newest Aes Sedai, she had been given the task of handling the situation, and her temper was wearing thin. The fourth time a novice scratched on her door to tell her that Lord Torman and Lord Kianne were dueling in the hallways, she snapped. "Light save me from the idiotic!" she exclaimed. The novice stared at her in wordless terror, and Ninya dismissed her with a wave of her hand. "Why must they behave like children?" She implored the two cats that adorned her desk. The figurines remained mute, as glass was wont to do, and she growled in irritation as she reached for her cloak. It was time to teach those two, at whatever cost, that being at a festival at the Grey Tower was not a privilege to be lightly abused. It was not as if they were particularly welcome in the first place.
Still fuming she stalked down the hall, her cloak spreading unnoticed behind her and causing several passersby to leap out of the way, curtsying or bowing and stammering apologetic greetings. She paid no notice, her attention clearly elsewhere. By the time she reached the guest quarters, the air around her was nearly crackling, and her usually pleasant face had taken on a very unpleasant cast. She rounded the corner to the lesser nobles' quarter just in time to see Torman and Kianne pop out of their doors and begin their arguing anew.
"My Lords," Ninya said. She did not use the Power, but her voice filled the hall; sometimes sheer irritation had that affect. The two looked at her in surprise. "You are grown men, invited to stay here for the duration of the Festival of Lights. This is not a privilege normally awarded to men of such small Houses, and yet you choose to spoil your good fortune by fighting like children." The two nobles stared at her for along moment, then began to point at each other and make excuses about how each was innocent, the other had caused it.
"Enough!" she snapped, and even as she spoke, she wove Spirit and Air. She knew that with every step she took towards them, she appeared to grow taller, her voice booming in the smaller hall. "You will return to your rooms my Lords, and you will remain there without fighting -or sending anyone else to fight for you!- until the festivities are at an end. And then, my Lords, you will return to Murandy, and for all I care you can tear each other to bits. It would certainly be a load off my back if you did."
The two men were gaping up at where they thought her face was, mouths hanging open in shock. She crossed her arms and glared, and with garbled squeaks, they turned back to their rooms, nearly scurrying in their hurry to return to their apartments. They closed their doors, and Ninya released the flows, stepping forward again as simply herself. Out of nowhere, two men in plain cotton appeared as if summoned. As one, they bowed to her, giving each other uncertain looks, but still obviously relieved. "Thank you, Aes Sedai," they said, and then they followed their masters into their separate rooms.
She turned to walk away, and everything faded to grey.
White Ajah Weave
One more step. The thought filled her mind as she became aware once more of her surroundings. It felt like an eternity since she had put her foot on the Stair, and now she was nearly done. She dared not look back, though curiosity ate at her. What would she see? What would happen? As she thought, the flames to either side of her vanished. Instead of listening to her inner voice, she took another step forward, standing firmly upon the pure marble of the white step.
Her awareness of the stair faded; she stood in blackness similar to the darkness that surrounded the platform used for skimming. Beneath her feet was a long pale platform that stretched into the distance. Across the platform, she could seem the glimmer of a number; though she squinted, she could not make it out. Resolutely she took a step forward- and the portion of the platform ahead of her disappeared into nothingness. Other sections also disappeared, leaving a series of gaping holes that were too long for her to jump. She contemplated this change, and took another step forward. As she did, the platform changed again; this time the nearest whole section was just close enough to make if she leapt.
Taking a deep breath and firming her resolve, she did just that. She landed on the new section, and the pattern of distance changed again. She walked and leaped by turn until she had determined the logical pattern of disappearance; finally she made it to the end, and saw the number in the air: ninety nine.
She channeled, and Water wove into a simple cleaning weave that she had learned as a novice. Like many of the other weaves she had completed during her test, the flows formed in mid air, and then 'snapped' into the number ahead of her, pulling her with it.
White Ajah Step
"You see, he claims the Pattern made him do it." Ninya tilted her head, looking for intently at the dark haired woman who stood before her. It was rare for a queen to seem uneasy, and even rarer for her to wring her hands like a girl in a romantic novel. Queen Besanine was usually an image of indolent repose, her voluptuous body shown off to its best advantage in nearly-transparent gowns that glimmered in jewel tones of red, green, and purple.
"Does he really now?" Ninya murmured, keeping her eyes half closed. No one in the Domani court knew of her Talent for Foretelling; it was ironic that she should be approached on this issue. "Does that not seem mad to you, Queen Besanine?" She carefully pushed her needle through the stretched cloth she was embroidering on, then pulled the thread through. She had pushed the needle back through to the other side before the Queen responded.
"The problem I see, Ninya Sedai, is that if he can truly see the Pattern as it emerges around him, is it right for us to charge him with murder? If he was forced to do it by the Wheel itself, who are we to declare his actions wrong?" Ninya's hand slipped, and the needle embedded itself in her forefinger. She stared as the spot of blood welled up, and through the white linen she had been working with, staining it and her white thread vibrant red. With a small sigh, she pulled the needle free, and set her work aside. It would be a small matter to fix it with Water later. For now, she had a queen to console.
"Queen Besanine, I have the ability to Foretell the future," she said calmly. "It is a fitful ability; I have no more control of when it occurs than I have control over the moon and tide." She pulled a scrap of cloth from her basket, and wrapped it around her finger. "If tomorrow I told you that I had seen that the only correct path for you to take was to follow the Dark One and lead your country into the Shadow, would you take my advice?"
The queen stared at her in silence for a long moment. "Of...course not." She said finally, a note of doubt in her voice. "That would be ma-" she cut off, coppery cheeks growing darker with embarrassment. "I see," she said.
"Even if the Pattern told this man to murder that woman, that does not make his action right," Ninya said, her voice even and serene. "Ethics transcend the Pattern, else utter chaos would rule. Perhaps he is correct, and it is absolutely necessary that he murder her. At the same time, in order to preserve order, it is necessary for you to follow the process of justice." The queen was nodding by the time she fell silent.
"Thank you for your advice, Ninya Sedai," she said. She curtsied -even rulers showed respect to Aes Sedai- and withdrew. Ninya relaxed back into her chair. After a moment, she picked up her embroidery again. Water wove into a small knot over the blood; after a moment, it faded away as if it had never existed...and with it, so did her surroundings.
The Three Oaths
You kneel in front of the Amyrlin Seat. Although her face does not move, you get the impression that she is smiling gently. You notice upon the cushion the Keeper carries rests the Oath Rod. The Amyrlin reaches out and picks the Oath Rod up from the cushion. The smooth ivory white cylinder appears to be only a foot long and as think as the Amyrlin's wrist. You remember from your training that the Oath Rod is a ter'angreal that will bind you to the Oaths, and thus to the Tower and the Flame and the Fang.
You promptly raise your hands in front of you, palms upward. And Amora places the Rod there. The glow of saidar surrounds her, and she touches the Oath Rod with a thin flow of Spirit. You close your hands around the Rod, it feels like glass, except somehow smoother.
"Repeat after me. Under the Light, by my hope of salvation and rebirth I swear to speak no word that is untrue."
Ninya stared up at the Amyrlin for a long wordless moment before grasping the Oath Rod in both her hands. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I swear to speak no word that is untrue," she said, her voice unfaltering. Even as she spoke, she felt as if her skin had suddenly tightened; she shrugged uncomfortably, but looked back to Amora.
After the Oath is finished you feel it settle on you like a second skin. You can still think a lie but your tongue will not work to produce it.
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow to make no weapon with which one man may kill another."
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow to make no weapon with which one man may kill another." Her voice shook a little, but she finished on a strong note. This time it felt as if the air itself were compressing around her, pushing her into an area far too small for her body. She shivered.
The Oath settles and your skin feels tighter, as though you have been sewn into an invisible garment much too tight, that is molded from the crown of your head to the souls of your feet.
"Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow never to use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, in the last defence of my own life, that of my Warder, or that of another Brother or Sister of the Grey Tower."
Ninya took a deep breath before continuing; if the second oath had left her so uncomfortable, the third might very well be unbearable. Yet...finally she spoke. "Under the Light and by my hope of salvation and rebirth, I vow never to use the One Power as a weapon except against Shadowspawn, in the last defence of my own life, that of my Warder, or that of another Brother or Sister of the Grey Tower."
The garment shrinks to still greater snugness. You try to breath through your nose, clamping your jaws so it doesn't come out as a gasp. Invisible and utterly flexible, but oh so tight! You realize the feeling will fade, but not completely for a whole year. It will be another four years until you have the ageless face.
