tbcb: Nanshe, Ajierene, Naidea ^_^

IC:



Thunder rumbled long and low over Murandy, and especially over the capital city of Lugard. The storm was fierce, and the many residents of the city, savory and unsavory alike, took cover from its wrath. Rain pounded down in sheets and lightning lanced across the sky, rending the darkness like a blazing white sword only to disappear moments later. The palace of King Roedran Almaric do Arreloa a'Nalo shook as thunder blasted it yet again, shaking the very walls of the keep. The storm raged with such force that many of the servants and nobility living in the palace took cover in their innermost rooms, and with good reason; the winds were so powerful that a few of the windows in the higher levels blew out, showering the empty rooms with shards of glass. It was a storm the likes of which had not been seen in decades, and it would be talked about in Lugard for a long time to come.

King Roedran, however, had his mind on a different kind of storm altogether.

He stood at his high window, against all advice to the contrary, and watched the storm rage. His heavy drapes were thrown back, and he stood nearly invisible in the dark room; the lightning flared, and he was silhouetted against the white light for a split second before the room plunged into darkness once more and the room shook with the roar of thunder. His manservant came forward hesitantly, as if he expected the window to explode at any second. “Y-Your Majesty?” he said in a quavering voice that had nothing to do with his age. “Might I suggest that we take our leave from this room, sire? I would hate to see you become injured if the window gives way…”

The King turned his eyes on the other man; they were angry and weary. “Why? What’s the point? I very well may not have this throne much longer as it is, and frankly I think I would rather die in this storm that face being dethroned.”

The servant bowed his head, mostly to keep from betraying his fear of the storm to his liege. “But Your Majesty, surely you don’t mean Halfast and a’Cafael?”

“Of course I mean them, Tomas. Who else is there actively trying to take my throne?” the King snapped. He ran a hand through his graying hair and growled. “I’ve known that my position as King has always been tenuous at best, but now that someone is dedicating time and resources to overthrow me? It’s enough to drive one mad, Tomas.” He looked back out the window, clasping his hands behind his back. “Lord Halfast and Lord a’Cafael have never exactly been friends, but together they pose a serious threat to my rule, and they know that.” He placed his hand on the window and swore under his breath. “Murandy… the only country in the world that has problems like the people not wanting to be united. Andor doesn’t have that problem; Cairhein doesn’t either. It’s just us, poor little Murandy, where no one can work together.” He growled again and punched the window; Tomas yelped and took a step back, but to his relief no glass showered the room. King Roedran turned from the window and paced the room, his steps firm in the blackness. Lightning lit his way, and he paced in silence for several long minutes. Finally, he stopped next to Tomas. “We cannot allow them to throw Murandy into civil war, Tomas,” he said quietly. “The Last Battle is approaching, we all agree on that, and if Murandy is not ready she will be swept away. I must stay on the throne if for no other reason than to ensure our unification during the Last Battle.” His dark eyes bored into Tomas. “As soon as this storm is lifted, send word to the White Tower. I need Aes Sedai assistance with these two men as soon as possible.”

“Yes, my liege,” Tomas said, his knees knocking together as thunder echoed around them again.

“I’m sure,” the King said, voicing his thoughts, “That an Aes Sedai will be able to sort things out; or at least scare some sense into Halfast and a’Cafael.” He turned back to the window and the storm outside. “If not, this storm will be lost to memory in the one that will follow.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The halls of the White Tower were silent as Mirielle Lasan made her way towards the office of the Head Clerk, the head of the Gray Ajah. Her heels clicked smartly as she went, her pace quick but not hurried; after all, it wouldn’t do to seem over-eager for her first assignment as a full Aes Sedai… even though inside she was roiling with excitement. Her pale green eyes burned with ambition and curiosity as she rounded a corner, passing a group of Accepted who were speaking quietly. The girls clad in white scurried to the side, their eyes wide as she swept past, the hem of her ivory skirt dancing along the floor. Mirielle glanced back at them through her golden ringlet curls and smiled slightly to herself, pulling the gray-fringed shawl around her slightly. It wasn’t so long ago that I was their classmate, she thought. And truly it had not been; she had been Raised barely two months ago, and the haunting memories of the Three Arches were just beginning to lose their potency. She shook her head slightly, tossing her blonde curls about. This was certainly not the time to be thinking about those. The Head Clerk had summoned her, and that could mean only one thing: a mission.

Mirielle smiled broadly in spite of herself as she felt excitement bubble up inside her again. She had been at the White Tower since her early teens, and had studied long and hard to become a Sister of the Gray Ajah; now, finally, she would have a chance to prove herself, and to do some good in the world.

As she neared the Head Clerk’s quarters, she found her mind wandering slightly to what her first assignment might entail. Perhaps a parley between two countries… there has certainly been enough unrest in the world recently to rate that. She felt her heart leap. Perhaps between the Seanchan and the Dragon...! Mirielle felt her cheeks warm slightly at the prospect of being part of something so important. That was what she had joined the Gray for; the chance to help make things better, and to be part of history.

And so it was that Mirielle Lasan, with her pretty Ghealdanian head filled to the brim with exciting prospects and theories about the nature of her mission, smoothed her ivory skirts, adjusted her ivory bodice with gold scrollwork, and knocked on the Head Clerk’s door.

“Come,” the crisp voice said from within, and Mirielle entered, closing the door quietly behind her. The quarters of Kathalyn Syllandrid were not stark, but they were not friendly or welcoming, either. Even with the presence of a bed along the far wall, the entire domicile gave off the air of an office, and it was easy to see why; every wall not occupied by the bed or one of the two windows in the room were covered in shelves of books and papers and files. But they were not in a mishmash of disarray, like so many Browns’ quarters would be; the books were neatly stacked and dusted, the files were arranged in alphabetical and numerical order, and all papers were either tied neatly together or arrayed on Kathalyn Sedai’s desk, which took up the majority of the second room of her quarters.

Mirielle entered this second room, where the Head of her Ajah sat. Kathalyn Sedai never glanced up from her papers as Mirielle entered, and the blonde Aes Sedai felt a great swell of pride as she watched the Head Clerk work. Kathalyn Syllandrid was short, but had such a regal bearing about her that she often felt three times her height, especially when she was arguing with you. Her black hair was pulled back into a tight bun; bright silver was beginning to streak her temples, but her dark eyes were quick and alert, and it was clear to any and all that Kathalyn Sedai was in her prime as a Gray Sister.

The younger Sister stood patiently aside, her green eyes wandering around the room as she waited for Kathalyn to finish what she was doing. There seemed to be twice as many books and files in this room as the previous, making it clear that this was her office, and that the previous room was simply a living space: a distinction that could only be made by another Gray Sister. Well, and possibly a Brown, I suppose, Mirielle thought with a slight sniff. But a Brown wouldn’t be able to see the intricate and subtle differences in the rooms, and that was just another reason that Mirielle Lasan was proud to be a Gray.

“It was good of you to come so quickly, Mirielle Sedai.” The Head Clerk’s crisp, no-nonsense voice brought Mirielle’s attention back to the large desk. Kathalyn Sedai’s sharp brown eyes were now focused entirely on the blonde Sister, and Mirielle curtsied slightly to show respect.

“Of course, Head Clerk. It would be impudent of me to hesitate when summoned by the head of our Ajah,” she said.

The Head Clerk smiled, clearly pleased by the deference shown by the younger Sister. “That is a good trait to foster, Mirielle Sedai. Promptness in action will see you through many situations where hesitation could spell disaster.” She leaned forward and her eyes narrowed. “But do not confuse promptness with haste. Haste will lead you to despair.” Mirielle nodded, and Kathalyn seemed satisfied. She sat back and pulled a file from a drawer in her massive desk. “This is why I have asked you here, Mirielle Sedai,” she said, once again all business. She held the file out to the younger Sister and Mirielle took it gingerly in her hand.

The blonde woman flipped it open, her heart beating in her ears; without realizing it, her eyes scanned the page quickly, searching for the words “Dragon”, “Seanchan”, and “King”. She found only one of those, King, and that only once; at the top of the page, indicating from whom the request had come. Mirielle’s eyes narrowed and she began to read it from the top, and as she went, her heart fell, and she felt her shoulders slump. It was a request from King Roedran of Murandy, asking for Aes Sedai assistance in the matter of two Lords, one Lord Halfast and one Lord a’Cafael, whom he suspected of having ambitions towards the throne. The Gray felt her heart drop even more as she realized that she wasn’t going to even have direct contact with the King but once, when she met with him to discuss the situation before heading out to speak to the Lords.

“Is it not what you had expected, Mirielle?” Kathalyn’s voice was even, but there was an icy edge to it. Mirielle’s eyes snapped up to meet Kathalyn’s brown, and the Cairheinin’s held no warmth this time. “You have that look about you that I have seen far too many times, young lady.” Kathalyn rose from her seat and made her way slowly around the desk away from Mirielle; the older woman was only slightly shorter than Mirielle herself, but the Ghealdanin felt much, much smaller at that moment. “The look of every young Gray when she receives her first assignment; disappointed and disheartened.” Her eyes grew colder, if that was possible, and she pressed her hands against her desk as she leaned forward toward Mirielle. “Well, I care not for your idealistic dreams of grandeur, Mirielle Lasan,” she snapped. “I care about you doing your duty as a Sister of the Gray: settling this disturbance quickly and efficiently. Is that clear?”

Mirielle nodded quickly. “Yes, Head Clerk.”

“Good.” Kathalyn Sedai nodded, then began searching her shelves for something that obviously pertained to what she had been working on before Mirielle had entered. “You also will not be going alone,” she continued, not bothering to look at the blonde Sister. “Since this is your first assignment, and there is potential for it to be an important one, girl,” she added almost under her breath, “You will be accompanied by Sisters from several other Ajahs.”

In spite of her situation, Mirielle felt her hackles rise. “Other Ajahs, Head Clerk?” she asked as passively as she could, although try as she might she could not stop an edge of irritation creeping into her voice.

“Yes, other Ajahs, girl,” Kathalyn snapped. “Most Grays never go alone, and you are certainly no exception.” She shook her head slightly before continuing. “You will be accompanied by Ajierene Sedai of the Brown, to document the events of your negotiation. You will also be accompanied by Nanshe Sedai of the Yellow and Naidea Sedai of the Green.” The Cairheinin looked over at her, a smirk on her face. “Just in case things don’t go so well for you.”

Mirielle was speechless. A Brown? A soft-eyed librarian, going with her? And a Green?! What good would a Green be on a mission like this, unless there were men to charm?

As if reading her thoughts, Kathalyn spoke again. “Yes, a Brown and a Green, Mirielle. Ajierene Sedai is a respected Brown for many reasons, and she is also the Sitter for that Ajah, so I suggest you do not take her lightly. And yes, a Green; Naidea Sedai has much experience in the world that you do not, and even though I would not lament your death if you failed your negotiation, the Tower and the Amyrlin certainly would. She goes to ensure that you and all those with and around you are safe, as does Nanshe Sedai.” Again the Cairheinin turned to her, and her eyes were hard. “I know the Ajah stereotypes as well as the next Sister, Mirielle Lasan, and whether or not I think they are true is irrelevant. These women are experienced Aes Sedai, and as a negotiator it would behoove you to accept and heed their counsel in this venture.” She turned back to her bookshelves and pulled down a large volume titled, Tar Valon law, circa 288. “You are to meet with the other Aes Sedai soon, in the sitting room in the far side of the Gray Wing. Get to know these women, Mirielle Sedai; your life may well depend on them before the end of this mission. Once you have introduced yourself and are comfortable with the rest of your party, you may as well prepare for your journey and rest. Murandy is an interesting country, and I can assure you that even if your negotiation goes exactly as you plan you will not leave that country without incident.” The Head Clerk waved her hand over her shoulder. “You are dismissed, Mirielle Sedai.”

Mirielle shut the door to the Head Clerk’s quarters and turned away, her teeth gritted in irritation. The NERVE… the sheer nerve of her!! Insinuating that I can’t do this on my own!! I don’t care if most Grays don’t go on missions alone, this is beyond insulting! Her chest heaved with ragged breaths, causing her modest bosom to rise and fall rapidly as she approached the sitting room where she was scheduled to meet with the rest of her ”party”. She halted just outside, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm herself before she entered. And I don’t believe her for a second that we won’t leave Murandy without incident!

Later, she would reflect on how foolishly confident she was.

Murandy.

Light, but she hated Emare at that moment.

After having disobeyed her by journeying to Altara, her mentor within the Green Ajah had definitely found a way to repay her the slight.

Sighing slightly, Naidea Tovane leaned against the window sill and cast her honey brown eyes out over the Alindrelle Erinin. She barely noticed the subtle shimmering of her gold silk gown and the glittering of the golden beads and moonstones in her long ebony braids as they swayed in the morning sunlight. Instead, she let her eyes drink in the beauty of the isle spread out before her for a moment. She noticed the fanciful shapes of the Ogier wrought buildings and bridges distractedly; her rich topaz eyes soon clouded, her mind turning inward, her gaze shifting to the infinite azure of the western sky.

Tentatively, Naidea allowed her mind to feel along the intangible ties that were such an integral part of her now, touching gently upon the immediate presence of Amine. The Sea Folk woman had remained in her quarters, though she had not been pleased with the request when Naidea had voiced it. Protective and fiercely loyal, she had wished to accompany her Aes Sedai to this meeting, though Naidea had assured her that no bargaining would be taking place and there was nothing she could do about the assignment… Smiling, she had told the Atha’an Miere that she also did not expect to be on the receiving end of any dagger blades. Amine had then relented with grace and a rare smile, deepening the one the young Green had worn upon her pretty face.

Releasing the sense that was her sister, Naidea next allowed her consciousness to slide along the tie that bound her to the newest presence in her mind. She knew that she was avoiding thinking of the remaining presence that resided within her, yet she was also fascinated by that which she felt from the man she had bonded only weeks ago. Jasin blossomed in her mind as she allowed herself to gently probe the abiding confidence that was her newest Gaidin. The former clandestine Tower agent was a wellspring of strength and determination, something that did not surprise her, yet there was also a sense of curiosity and what she could only describe as fascination that brought a smile to her face.

With Amine, with Rowan, Naidea had felt an instantaneous connection that had felt incredibly natural and effortless. With Jasin, things were different. They had been from the start.

Naidea remembered her initial meeting with the man, the Winternight she thanked the Light he could not recall, yet she was far more preoccupied with the time she had spent fighting at his side in Altara. Jasin was an island, as impregnable as the one she stood upon now, yet things had changed between them during those tense, terrifying days in Ebou Dar. And upon their return…

The strange hollow, soundless emptiness that accompanied the closing of a gateway nagged at Naidea’s consciousness as she stood in the frigid streets of Alindaer after having been enveloped in the humid warmth of Ebou Dar only moments before.

Only seconds were required to dispel the disorientation as she cast her eyes on the group, making sure that all were present while she held to the Source and remained vigilant. If the Seanchan were to follow, it would fall to her to defend the small party…

Movement to her right drew her attention. Jasin had detached himself from the group and was walking forward unnoticed by the others. He seemed too stiff by far, the easy, confident saunter she had become accustomed to replaced by severe rigidity. Sensing nothing from the gateway behind her, the young sister allowed herself to be ruled by her curiosity, following the operative while maintaining her ready hold upon saidar.

The dark robed man turned the corner at a nearby street and Naidea held back, observing from the concealment of the shadowed corner, her warm brown eyes growing large in surprise at the scene unfolding before her.

Jasin’s steps slowed suddenly before he fell to the cobblestones brokenly. Naidea could hear the man’s sobs as his slim body was wracked with emotion and he slammed his fist in frustration against the dark building he faced. A sense of intrusion flooded through the Taraboner sister as she stood in impotent silence, knowing full well who the agent mourned. She had noticed the bond between the two and had been certain that Lucilla’s loss would be keenly felt, yet she had not known how her sympathy would have been received had she offered it and so she had remained silent. She regretted the caution in that moment and was overwhelmed by a sudden desire to move forward and wrap her arms around the mourning man.

His pain was not hers to see, yet she could not help but be moved by it, especially considering how rare a show of emotion she knew this to be.

Unconsciously, Naidea took a step forward before her progress was halted by the appearance of a young man in nondescript clothing. The Green’s instincts took over and she prepared an offensive weave, yet the newcomer made no hostile movements nor did he attempt to conceal his approach from his evident target.

In response, Jasin looked up with ruined eyes for one tortured moment before he stood and wiped his face with impressive grace. In a matter of moments he was himself again, conversing in low tones with the youth.

Naidea could only watch in uncomfortable silence, knowing that she had missed an opportunity… and feeling keenly as though she wished she had not. The thoughts were strange, the strength of her desire to assist was unexpected, yet the Green was unable to shake them. Though she could not pinpoint the moment when it had happened, something had changed between herself and the man from Tar Valon.

She would know what.

Smiling wistfully, Naidea allowed herself to maintain her awareness of her new comrade in arms for a few moments longer. Jasin was an enigma, yet he had accepted her bond and he had offered her something truly precious in return. For all his secrets, Di Castillo seemed to trust her and for that she was truly grateful.

Releasing the secretive agent, the Green focused on the indistinct, yet far more familiar warmth that lived in the furthest reaches of her mind. There was no point in delaying the inevitable.

Rowan was out there, waiting, wondering if she had received his letters or if she had discarded them as she had promised she would when he had chosen to leave her side and the service of the Tower.
A bitter anger threatened to overwhelm the Taraboner, yet she managed to suppress it as she continued to study the sky. She forced herself to feel the bond she had neglected for months.

Forced herself to feel Rowan’s presence in her mind.

It was not an easy task.

The young Green could feel little from her first Gaidin. The distance had dulled their connection, replaced the brilliant warmth and river of gold that had united them with a shroud of uncertainty and a strange, tense focus that Naidea could feel sharply despite the vast distance between them. And now, with this mission and this report I have the reality of your need thrust upon my lap. Oh, Rowan… Light, but I knew you would not leave for a trifle, but I had not… Or perhaps I did not wish to see how real the need was.

Naidea pulled her eyes from the sky, turning instead to the sitting room she stood within. The missive she had received had been written in Emare’s hand. It has informed her that the party would depart soon and that this meeting was crucial if she wished to become acquainted with the women she would travel with. This was proper Tower protocol. The word had been underlined, as though she might be too dense to recognize the slight. It had not been necessary, but then she could not be surprised that Emare would still hold onto some of the spectacular anger she had displayed when Naidea had returned from Ebou Dar.

Though she appreciated the measure of trust and respect that this opportunity represented, Naidea was under no illusion that she had been chosen for this mission due to her merits as a sister. Especially after her recent sojourn to Altara. No, she was to be the representative of her Ajah on a mission of crucial importance for the stability of the nation of Murandy simply because she happened to have bonded the eldest son of one of the two noble houses involved in this particular political dispute. She was to assist in the diplomatic efforts of a Grey sister, to serve as the sword of the Tower should things get interesting, but she knew when the Tower was pulling its strings. It just so happened that this particular situation was simply a far more blatant case than most.

True, it was a noble cause and one made far more pressing considering the proximity of the Seanchan threat to the unstable region, yet the idea of journeying into Murandy was not one she relished, especially not when it came directly from the woman responsible for introducing her to her estranged Warder in the first place. Though your attempts at reconciliation do not surprise me, Emare. You always loved Rowan, you were always behaved as a proud mother when I told you of our blossoming friendship and my desire to ask him to accept my bond… but you never understood what his betrayal did to me. You even bristled at my calling what he did a betrayal. Always so quick to defend him, to remind me that he was nothing like Jenncue, to defend him despite all I felt. And now with this you attempt to remind me that you were right, yet again, but I do not… I do not appreciate having my folly so plainly laid out before me.

Naidea frowned behind her diaphanous veil, sitting upon a large, high backed chair in the empty room. She liked to think of herself as different from the other women in the Tower; she had in fact been told by many that she was far easier to converse with than most of the other women who bore the ring and the shawl. It had always been a compliment and had warmed the young Green’s heart, especially when it came from one of her students. Still, Naidea knew that she was not immune to some of the flaws that her sisters wore like proud badges. Pride, especially was difficult for her to own to or overcome.

“Though it’s not as though I think anyone likes being made to feel a fool, yes?” she spoke into the stillness with a slight pout on her full lips as she reached out and prepared herself a cup of tea while she waited for the other women to arrive. She had made a point to arrive early. This was to be an important meeting and she would not have people think that was more ‘improper’ than she was certain they already did. The ivory and gold shawl that she wore did bear a brilliant emerald fringe, after all.

Smiling slightly, she leaned back in her chair and sipped her tea, knowing that she would be dismissed as a simple Green sister once her colleagues in Brown, Yellow, and Grey arrived to discuss the particulars of this excursion into the wilds of Murandy.

For the past half an hour Jasin had sat there watching Amine pace a furious line across Naidea's quarters. He took a sip from his mug of ale, a good brew from Andor, as he wondered who would lose the confrontation, her or the floor. Between her and Naidea, at times, it almost seemed like the floor should have a huge ditch in it from the pacing they had a tendency to do behind closed doors. It was mostly Amine, that he saw, but still. They sometimes rubbed off on each other that way. The stubbornness both of them had in spades complemented each other very well. He took another sip as he sat there thinking about what they'd been through, and what was coming.

If there was one thing Jasin didn't like doing, he didn't like going to these parties completely sober. In the end, none of them did. They always tried to treat them as celebrations, but if they didn't do anything about it, they always ended up as a too-somber affair they were trying to avoid anyway. This was how they did it. They showed up. They gave toasts. Those were often rather somber. Everyone usually brought a bottle of something. Between all that could show up, there was enough for anyone. They went through it all slowly enough that it was never a drunken party, though it could last all night if they didn't pay attention. But that took a little bit of prep-work. Often they got wierd looks from the few Aes Sedai that showed if it was their first time. Sometimes even if it wasn't their first time. That drew smiles from all the rest every time.

He had a bottle of one of the better batches of brandy from the Two Rivers on the table in front of him. He pulled the top and filled the glass about two thirds of the way. Holding it up, he took a breath, smelling it. There was a slight smell of apples with the spices that came with nearly every type of brandy made. As he took a pull from the glass, there was a knock at his door. Glancing curiously at the door, he set the half-full glass down and made his way over. The words died on the tip of his tongue when he discovered Naidea waiting on the other side.

She had an almost sorrowful set to the way she was standing, and she spoke in a quiet monotone that said she was still trying to think of what she wanted to say, "You are not an easy person to find."

He gave her a smile, an attempt to bring out a lighter side of things. "You did better than most," he told her. "They usually end up giving a message to the liason and I get a summons to the Tower. I like the stubbornness in that. Good trait." He opened the door the rest of the way and stood aside, "Come in."

She looked around as she came in. On the far side she could see the open door to the bedroom. Lying on the floor were a few unwashed uniforms for the Tower Guard. Against the wall near the table there was a set of the leather armor they typically wore on patrol, as well as one of the swords that was standard issue. She walked to the table, looking at the labelling on the bottle. "Eighteen years. I'm told that's a good age." She picked it up and smelled it, giving him a slight smile that couldn't really hide the difficulty she was going through after she set it down, "Above your means though? Technically?"

Jasin gave a chuckle, "Not really, no." He shrugged, "My sister runs the family bank. I'm basically half owner, for all that I do none of the work."

She let out a quiet sigh as she nodded, in thought once more. "My condolences on the loss of Lucilla," she finally said. "She was a good person." There was a reason the classics were classics. Simple eloquence of message.

Jasin nodded and answered seriously, "Thanks, really." He looked at her for a few seconds, thinking. "Look," he said, almost launching into it suddenly as the final answer to his thought came to be. "We don't get the services and the funerals, but we have our own ways. We leave all ranks and titles at the door for this. You'd just be Naidea," he told her, making clear that Naidea meant more to them than Naidea Aes Sedai. He gave her a respectful nod, "Want to come? It'd mean a lot to us, you were there for it."

"I'd be honored, Jasin," she said with a genuine smile.

Smiling himself, Jasin led her over to the liquor cabinet he kept in his flat and started going through the bottles of...everything. He had a good relationship with both the smugglers and the merchants in this regard. He grabbed another bottle of brandy, this one from Tear, for himself. He handed her a bottle of Domani wine from one of the best wineries of the country. "When we get there, you'll see a table with a lot of wine and brandy on it. Maybe even some oosquai. Just add it to the mix."

Jasin took a longer pull of the mug of ale as he watched Amine's continued pacing. Finally she practically shouted, "They shouldn't be doing this to her." She threw her hands up in disgust, finally turning toward Jasin, "Sending Nai to Murandy at this time is like my people sending a ship to Tar Valon."

Casually, he took another short sip of his drink. "Is it?" he asked. "Personally I think she's lucky to get this assignment." He shrugged, "Though I think I have a decent idea why she really got picked out of the litter of Greens that were available."

This time she did shout, "Lucky?!"

Jasin gestured with his mug at the chair a few feet away from him, "When you were on your ship, there was a chain of command, am I right?"

"Of course there was," she said gruffly. "What kind of question is that?"

"Sit down," Jasin practically ordered. "It's not fun talking up to you." Finally, she let out a breath, almost in exasperation, and took the seat. "Going outside the chain of command was a great way to spend a few hours in the...what was it you called it?"

"The brig." She shrugged as if that couldn't possibly matter, but she was talking in a normal tone now. Progress. "And yes it was."

Jasin almost sighed, "Look, the Aes Sedai have a chain of command that's even more convoluted than my people. And I've told you stories about us." He took another drink, "I've been working for Tar Valon for more than a decade, and I haven't figured it out completely."

"And she went to Altara..." Amine said in a grumbling whisper.

"Exactly," he answered. "Look, she didn't just go outside the chain of command here. She went outside the border." Amine gave him a questioning look at that phrase. "Forget any orders she was given. She acted on her own, pursued her own interests. She went into Seanchan territory without authorization."

In the same grumbling whisper, Amine answered, "So she should be hanging from the rigging..."

"But...?" Jasin asked her.

"We're going to Murandy..."

"Not only that," Jasin finished for her. "But if the negotiations go hostile or they end up trying to kick us out from the start..." He paused for a second in thought, "She should...I think...be the one in command." Amine sighed again, giving him a glare that lacked her usual emotion when she glared, a big hint that she was coming around to that way of thinking. "I think anyway," Jasin said. "Either way, take what you can get. She's not nearly as bad off as you think." He drank the rest of his mug of ale and set it on the tray the Servants had brought. "I've got a few things to take care of in the city before we go. I'll be back in a few hours."

Flimsy drapes of too-light fabric let the light shine into the otherwise unlit room in a myriad of colors; the offspring of the initial sun-bleached cyan, yellow and magenta. An inexplicable caprice during a long day of lallygagging and whimsical purchases in the midst of caroused coddling, she knew. She made a mental note to have them thrown out, replaced by a heavy set of deepest black. Almost immediately, the note was forgotten. She ran her fingers lightly over the intricate embroidery of the bright yellow fainting couch where she lounged. The pattern was something inconsistent, drawing sharp angles at times before bursting forth into delicate swirls and curves that somehow merged smoothly back into the offensively obtuse lines that gave them birth in the first place. The soft thread brushed against her skin roughly enough for her not to need to watch its figure to circumnavigate its intention; a strange attempt to mimic the sea or the sky, or perhaps the... Well, nobody actually cared.

Letting her hand fall over the side of the offensively yellow couch, Nanshe Sesak puffed out a long breath of semi-lucent smoke that lingered on the lips and even longer in the empty space above her before dissipating altogether. The long ornamented pipe in her other hand rested leisurely over her bent knee, too far away from reach in her all but completely horizontal position. Far enough for her to have to think whether or not the effort to bring it to her lips was worth it. She watched the smoke emerge slowly through half-lidded eyes and wondered idly about the tabac's precedence, though, in all honesty, nobody actually cared about that either.

She sighed, deciding finally to take another drag.

The door behind her flew open, forcing the Seanchan to turn her head, albeit lazily. Irritation settled on her face immediately, giving no room for curiosity or confusion. She was in no mood to see anybody, much less...

“Tamerlane,” she said unimpassioned. Yes, much less her. She turned her head back forward and resumed her puffing. Which wasn't to say Tamerlane was unwanted in any way, but the ajah seemed to have latched onto her, despite her retirement as Sitter, to prompt Nan into action. Light knew it was the only way they could. Which, once again, wasn't to say Nanshe Sesak was in any way special or privileged, just... difficult. She exhaled slowly once again, watching the older woman walk across the room with something like sovereignty and briskly pulled the drapes open, letting the soft, warm and absolutely horrid light in entirely. Nan squeezed her eyes shut, grimacing in response to such a direct affront.

“Nanshe,” Tamerlane said before turning around gracefully. She was wearing her utterly compassionate, completely understanding look. Aw, crap. This is a bad omen. “I'm here to inform you that the ajah has great need of you.”

Nanshe stared at the Ebou Dari, partly confused and partly expectant. The silence stretched out before the Seanchan shook her head, organizing her thoughts, and replied simply, “I'm not on duty this week.”

A somewhat stubborn streak of over zeal in the Infirmaries and... over zeal in the taverns at night had led to something like an imposed rest period on her, from which she hoped to be relieved soon. Aes Sedai told no lies, but acting dumb was not in the restrictions anywhere. She would have called it a feeling if she didn't know fully well that the small prediction in her mind was closer to certainty than intuition. The ajah has great need of me... Hurray.

“I am well aware of that,” Tamerlane responded impassively. If there was someone she couldn't fool with the dumb act, it was Tamerlane. It was probably why the ajah continued sending her to deal with Nan. They should just let Tamers take a break. “No,” she continued quickly, “you've been selected to accompany a small White Tower embassy to assist some disputes in Murandy.”

Nanshe blinked, her brown eyes unclear but her mind whirring away. After a moment of silence, and in spite of the expected resistance, she broke out into hysterical laughter. She sat up in the middle of the outburst and dropped her pipe on the dark lavender rug that lay under her couch.

“So the ajah has finally decided to get rid of me?” she asked, laughing still. “Took them long enough!”

“That is not the ajah's intention!” Tamerlane retorted loudly, her patience visibly crumbling.

Nanshe chuckled still. “They send me to lands neighboring the Rhyagelle and expect me to believe come back alive? Could they not execute me here and be done with it?” Light knew that the Lady was far from the worst fate that could befall her in such places. Won't I look pretty in an a'dam, Sitter? She broke into laughter again.

“They- We need you to go out and do good, as a Sister of the Yellow, Nan,” she said, the compassion returning to her voice.

The Seanchan's eyes lingered on Tamerlane's before falling onto her left hand and the golden serpent wrapped around its middle finger. “Oh, right,” she mumbled to herself, “Sister.” Nonetheless, the stubborn steak died hard, she turned back to the retired Sitter and cocked her head slightly. “And if I refuse?”

“You cannot.”
“Why not?”
“This is an order from our First Weaver.”
Nan arched a brow as if to say So? Truth be told, the woman may as well be dead for all she interacted with her. She had seen her only a handful of times and talked to her only twice, one of those occasions when joining the ajah. Tamerlane shot back a reprimanding look, and Nanshe finally rolled her eyes before sighing in defeat.
“And where does Her Marath'damane-ness need me to go?”

Tamerlane shot her a dirty look before replying coldly, “Gray wing; a sitting room at the far end.”

“Fine.” The Seanchan pushed herself off her seat lazily and giving little care to rearrange the drooping neckline of her dress, she walked to the door reaching out for the yellow fringed shawl that lay strewn over a bedpost. The forceful tap of her heels as she walked away echoed in the distance as she made her decisive move away from the Yellow ajah quarters. Tamerlane stayed behind, in some ways a mother making sure her daughter would not simply sneak back in when her back was turned. When there was certainty of her departure, the Ebou Dari let out a sigh.

“I should've never have let her take that ethics class with Mai Johan.”

~*~*~*~*~

The fervor of the clicking heels had died somewhere between the entrance of the Gray ajah's quarters and the middle of bloody, Light-blasted nowhere! What was wrong with this ajah?! Absolutely nothing was where you expected it to be, and the Blight take you if you asked for directions! The Creator only knew why this was the ajah of people who thought you could talk someone into submission; only they knew how to be simultaneously meddlesome and unhelpful. Shaking her head ruefully, she stretched her head out to touch the remaining door. Fiftieth one is the charm, she thought.

Taking a moment to preen, she inspected herself from head to toes. The lightly embroidered canary shoes just peeked at the hem of her soft mauve streaked yellow skirts, clean if somewhat disarrayed. She fixed that quickly. The dark and heavy sash, a little too reminiscent of her Seanchan heritage for her liking, was tied at the back neatly and its heavy gold thread embroidery was just dirty enough not to seem gaudy. Thankfully. She readjusted the edges of her robe-like neckline and smoothed down the long sleeves, trying hard to ignore that the heavy smell of tabac that lingered to the touch of lace that emerged from them. Her shawl, a formality she had made a point of exercising just to make the point that she was doing this as a representative of the Yellow ajah, not because Nanshe Sesak gave a rat's behind what happened in Light-forsaken Murandy, was draped around her shoulders loosely. Well, whatever, she thought as she pushed the door open, expecting to find a room full of irritated and irritating women.

Instead she found an impassive face behind a veil with a cup in her hand, sitting alone, and for a moment she felt lost. She pointed at the floor and then at herself, and then back outside, recounting in her mind the turns and places she had tried already. She looked at the woman with a confused frown on her face before finally announcing, “Am I early? That's fine, I'll come back.” She turned on her heels and walked forward, pulling the heavy door along with her before slamming it shut. Fifty-first...

The Seanchan promptly backpedaled as to avoid running into a stunningly pretty blonde girl in front of her. She wore an ivory dress and her enthusiastic and especially young looking face betrayed novelty.

“Oh, are you here for the assemblage about Murandy?” she asked eagerly.

“Oh, so I was in the right room,” Nanshe remarked relieved. “Great.” The other woman looked oddly self-satisfied with this, but the Yellow ignored it for a more pressing matter. “Say, why don't you be a good girl and go fetch the Aes Sedai some brandy? I think the nature of this meeting requires it... Cairhienin, don't skimp on the good stuff.”

Nan stopped herself short of patting the woman on the head before turning back to the door, stepping into the room and slamming the door shut once again behind her.

Mirielle wasn’t sure what she had expected when she was given this mission, but considering that she was less than an hour into it, she was beginning to get a horrible sinking feeling. She stared at the door to the drawing room where Nanshe Sedai had disappeared after ordering a drink from her. Miri felt her left eye twitch slightly. She hadn’t been treated that way… ever. Even as a Novice, the Aes Sedai she’d had contact with had always treated her like a prospective Aes Sedai; Nanshe had treated her like… like a servant!! Kathalyn Sedai’s voice reverberated in her head with the Ajahs that would be involved in her mission. Green, Brown, Yellow. Oh by the Light… The pit in her stomach opened up so wide that Mirielle thought she would tumble through it. Nanshe Sedai was a high-ranking sister in the Yellow Ajah… but the woman she had just seen was… Somewhere deep inside Mirielle, the picture of the woman who was Nanshe Sedai clicked together with the reputation she’d heard about the woman called Nanshe Sedai, and her world tilted. Was it possible that she was the Aes Sedai chosen to accompany this mission?! Mirielle clutched her stomach. I feel sick.

Without further ado, Mirielle Lasan charged outside into one of the Gray Sitter’s gardens and violently lost her breakfast. Her whole body convulsed most unpleasantly, and after a few retches that made her feel like someone had grabbed her by her feet and wrung her out like a dishrag she straightened up shakily, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes were bloodshot now, her beautiful features ruddy and her immaculate blonde curls tossed and disheveled.

This… this is impossible… she thought miserably as she re-entered the Tower. She made her way back to her quarters, which thankfully were not far away. She shut the door firmly behind her and made her way to the washbasin, still filled with cool, clean water. The blonde splashed some water onto her face and neck, sighing as the droplets trickled down her cheeks and chest. She’d managed to keep from getting the odd-colored vomit on her beautiful ivory dress, but water was water and would dry quickly; a few drops on her skirt or bodice were of no consequence.

So this is how it ends, is it? she thought morosely. I don’t even get to go on one mission for the Gray Ajah before I resign, hang up the shawl and go to live on a farm somewhere. That’s exactly what she felt like doing right at that moment. It didn’t even matter who else was in her party; if Nanshe Sedai was there, Mirielle felt like it was a death sentence. She couldn’t imagine the mission being a success if that drunken harlot was with her. She’d heard the stories; about her nights out in the taverns and the drunkenness that embodied Nanshe Sedai. She’d heard about her unorthodox and most inappropriate choice for her Warder, even if things hadn’t gone far enough to have them Bonded; it was a rumor among the Accepted that Nanshe’s choice of the dark-haired, pigtail-wearing, indecently-clad woman known as Candi had been based on performance in the bedchamber, not on the battlefield. And she had even heard tell that Nanshe, with Candi along with her, had been involved with one of the Warders in the Tower, a well-known Gaidin named Damon al’Morlan. It was another rumor with the Accepted, but it was reliably verified by one of the other members of Damon Gaidin’s squad; that Nanshe and Candi both had spent the night with him. At the same time! Such debauchery was unacceptable, and Mirielle couldn’t imagine… well, half of anything that Nanshe Sedai had done, but she especially couldn’t imagine this mission being a success if she was along.

The pretty blonde Sister felt her shoulders slump and a lump rise in her throat as her eyes heated up. I’m a failure, and I haven’t even started yet! she thought miserably. Hot tears began to slide down her cheeks. Kathalyn Sedai will have me kicked out of the Ajah, exiled from the Tower… and Light knows what else. And then it’s back to Ghealdan in disgrace.

Suddenly, an iron rod slid up Mirielle’s spine, and the Gray Sister felt herself straighten up even as the tears fell from her eyes. No. The thought was faint at first, but it came stronger. No, she thought firmly. No no NO!! It’s not going to end this way! The stubborn streak that had made Mirielle join the Gray in the first place reared its head, and the Ghealdanin wiped her eyes decisively. “This is not how it ends for me,” she growled at the empty room. Her hands clenched into tiny fists. So Nanshe Sedai was going with her. So what?! That fact alone would make her success in this mission that much more impressive, and would certainly make the Head Clerk notice her above the other Sisters. Besides, she may not have to work against Nanshe the whole time; Nanshe Sesak was, after all, an experienced Sister who had traveled far and wide. Surely she wasn’t only good for disposing of alcohol.

Speaking of which, I’m supposed to bring her some brandy. Mirielle’s full lips curved into a small smile. Well, I’d best not keep her waiting any longer.

Finally, twenty minutes after Nanshe Sedai had ordered her brandy, Mirielle re-entered the drawing room carrying a silver tray laden with a crystal decanter filled with Cairheinin’s best and several dof glasses. “I’m sorry that it took me so long,” Mirielle said sweetly as she swept in, her ivory skirts billowing elegantly. She set the tray on one of the small tables in the room and poured one glass from the decanter. She noticed that all of the Aes Sedai were here now- Naidea in her Taraboner veil, Nanshe in her… whatever it was, and Ajierene Sedai dressed elegantly but simply. As much as she didn’t think much of Browns, she had to admit that Kathalyn Sedai had been correct; even a brief glance at the Aiel Sitter proved that she was a formidable woman, and the fact that she held not only the Bond but also the heart of Damon al’Morlan Gaidin was nothing to sniff at, either. However… she was still a Brown. A plain old boring Brown. Mirielle was still puzzled as to what Kathalyn felt she could do here.

She turned, still holding the glass, and made her way towards Nanshe Sedai. Her jade green eyes swept over Naidea Sedai, and she tried her best to keep her lip from curling. The things she’d heard about Naidea Sedai were the following: that she was strong, brave, and loved deeply. Of course, to Mirielle’s mind, that meant she was stubborn, flighty and a man-chaser. She’d heard that she had recently disobeyed direct Tower orders and run off to Altara to rescue her mother. Noble, to be sure, but to disobey direct orders? Very flighty indeed. Instead, she managed a smile and a polite nod to the veiled woman; if nothing else, Mirielle could admit that she was beautiful. Every last one of the women here was strong, beautiful and intelligent, and Mirielle was determined to make this team work like a well-oiled machine. Somehow.

“Thank you all for coming here on such short notice,” she began, still holding the brandy. She gestured with it delicately as she spoke, ensuring that she would not spill a single drop. “As you have undoubtedly been informed, you have been asked to accompany me to Murandy to help the King soothe his relationship with two of his more powerful Lords, Lord Halfast and Lord a’Cafael.” She saw Naidea shift slightly at the mention of the names and logged the movement away for reference later. “It seems that the King feels that the two of them combined could make a real and legitimate grab for the throne, and, according to his missive, he quote, ”does not want a contest for the throne to open Murandy up to Seanchan, Whitecloak or Shadowspawn attack,” unquote.” Mirielle shrugged, dangling the brandy tantalizingly close to Nanshe Sedai, who reached out as if to take it only to have it dance back out of her reach. “Whether his motives are as pure as that I do not know, but we have to start with our current information and work from there.” Another dangle of the brandy at Nanshe Sedai, another reach from the Sister, and another seemingly accidental removal of the chance of a drink. “Either way, we have been asked to come and assist the King in this matter, and as long as we are working together, I know we can do it.” The last bit almost gagged her coming out, but she managed it without a retch and kept a smile on her face.

Finally, she turned and looked directly at Nan Sedai. She lifted the glass, smiled, and downed the decent portion of brandy in one long draw. She exhaled sharply and set the glass down on the table. “There’s brandy there if you want it,” she said amiably before turning and walking towards the door. “If it pleases you all, I’d like to start out tomorrow at first light.” She favored them all with a dazzling smile. “I look forward to working with all of you.” She opened the door and then closed it behind her.

As soon as she was out of sight she wobbled slightly. “Oooooooooooh… shot of brandy not a good idea…” She shook her head and wobbled away down the hall, trying her best to keep herself on her feet.

Rosemary Sedai sat across a large, dark oak desk, papers strewn in an apparent mess. Any Brown Sister would know better, though. The younger woman looked up from her papers as the elder Sitter stepped in, a novice closing the door behind her. The First Chair smiled. It had been a long time since that council meeting that had elected Rosemary, an Aes Sedai of less than 20 years at the time, to First Chair. Ajierene had been one of her supporters and the two had formed a close bond. The Aiel nodded to the other woman, giving her the respect she was due despite the fact that there was a century between them. Her emerald eyes drifted across the papers as she walked to within a few steps of the desk. Ajierene was now near the chairs, but would decline to sit unless invited. Rosemary returned the nod and looked down at her own parchments as well. Pulling a paper from a stack in a small mahogany tray, she reviewed it a moment before looking up again, “The Gray Ajah requests your attendance in a mission,” she started, “Well, they request the attendance of an Aes Sedai of some prominence and you are the best of what’s in the tower right now,” A wry smile crossed her face as she ended that sentence, realizing it could have been considered a slight by another woman.

Ajierene returned the smile, as best an Aiel could, “Of course,” she stated. Rosemary was still getting used to her position and would sometimes blurt out something that was not exactly what she meant. This was one of those times. “What is the mission?” She asked simply.

Rosemary repressed a cringe at the elder woman’s attempt at a smile, “It seems there are two lords that may be plotting to overthrow the Murandy government and they want you to document the mission.” Ajierene raised an eyebrow. Why would the Grays want an Aes Sedai of prominence just to document a mission? A newly raised Aes Sedai would be a better choice. The First Chair scanned the paper a bit more, “It seems you will be accompanying a Yellow and Green as well. Oh, and Mirielle Sedai from the Gray will be leading. If memory serves correctly, it was not long ago she was an Accepted. I believe I remember her from one of my classes,” Rosemary’s brows furrowed and she threatened to allow her mind to wander.

Ajierene nodded to herself. That was the reason, it was not good practice to send to girls out together on their first mission. It probably helped that she was one of the very few Brown Sisters with a Warder. Well, a warder of sort. The Aiel still remembered when she had bonded Damon. She had done so only to save his life after he saved hers. Healing was not her strong suit. The initial plan was to release him from the bond after they returned from the White Tower, but that has not happened yet. With that thought, the Brown Sitter reached back mentally to feel the bundle of emotions that was Damon. Content yet concentrating; he was out hunting right now and the Aiel felt her mouth water a little at the prospect of a fresh kill. She turned her emerald eyes back to the First Chair, who had pulled herself out of her musings.

“At any rate, Ajierene Sedai, the group is meeting shortly in the Sitting room of the Gray Ajah.” Ajierene nodded, thanked Rosemary and headed down the halls. Close to the desired room, she heard the voice of Nanshe Sedai requesting drinks. The woman’s reputation preceeded her and was unaware that one of her troublesome nights, The Aiel Sedai had helped drag her back to her rooms. The woman was near unconscious with to much drink. The Aiel shook her head, her strawberry hair swaying slightly. As she rounded the corner, she was almost run into by a very young woman with a gray fringed shawl. This must be Mirielle Sedai. Ajierene shook her strawberry locks again, Nanshe was so busy being difficult she did not realize how she had talked to another Sister. The Aiel smoothed her long, cotton skirt and adjusted her brown shirt before entering the sitting room. She recognized the Yellow immediately, showing a practiced calm face, she nodded to the woman. She turned and nodded to the Green as well prior to selecting a chair to sit in. Long minutes passed as the women waited for their ‘leader’ to return.

When Mirielle returned, she apologized for the delay. Ajierene understood it as the start of a message to Nanshe Sedai. The message continued as the young Gray danced around offering Nanshe a drink while she discussed the mission. The was Mirelle looked at her, Ajierene was sure she was surprised that the representative of the Brown Ajah was not a mousy type librarian with ink stains and desperately taking notes on a parchment. It seemed the Gray sister had quite a bit to learn about the Ajahs.

Mirielle finished her small introduction to the mission, “There’s brandy there if you want it,” she said amiably before turning and walking towards the door. “If it pleases you all, I’d like to start out tomorrow at first light.” She favored them all with a dazzling smile. “I look forward to working with all of you.” She opened the door and then closed it behind her. The Aiel noted that she did not wait for anyone to object.

The Aiel faced the other three women in the room as she stood up, “I am Ajierene Sedai,” She stated, “My defined roll is to keep notes on the mission,” she stated as an introduction, “Nanshe Sedai, I take it you are with us in case you are needed, light willing, you will not be needed. Naidea Sedai, your experience is appreciated,” With that, the elder woman nodded, “I will see you at first light. May you find shade,” she finished. Nodding to the two women, she glided out of the room on soft soled shoes.

Heading back to her chambers, the Aiel reached back to the bundle of emotions again. Her own bundle of emotions was still confused. The Aiel had spent more than a century immersed in work to much to look at another man as a real man. Then Damon had come along. His self assurance had attracted her and she suspected initially some of his emotions had colored hers, but she found herself looking more and more at the wolfbrother as a real man. Ajierene had met some of his friends and previous lovers. The part of her that wanted to stay in the comfort of being immersed in work told her that he had no real feelings for her since he had quite an array of previous lovers. His personal life was full of a lot of drama also and the Aiel was used to simplicity. Still, she was drawn to him and looked forward to seeing him that evening and not just to find out if he had caught anything good for dinner. She reminded herself to talk about the upcoming mission with him when she saw him.

Naidea was at a loss for words as she watched the scene unfolding before her. The exploits of both the ridiculously inexperienced Grey and the famously ‘experienced’ Yellow sister elicited within her a very strong desire to call things to order or pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration, much the way she had often done in the novice classes she had taught in the first year after her Raising. Thankfully, however she managed to hold her tongue and watch the shameful display in silence, emulating the stoicism of the well respected Aiel Sitter who sat beside her. While Naidea was wholeheartedly behind the notion that the women of the Tower should not always hide behind the mask of feigned serenity they all bore so well, the former Taraboner noble would be among the first women in the Tower to defend the merits of propriety. Something that is sorely lacking here. Light, but this is the woman who has been charged to lead us into a country on the brink of war and foreign occupation? Emare, but you must still be furious with me…

After acknowledging Ajierene’s polite words as the Brown sister stood to leave, Naidea rose elegantly and followed suit with a nod and a simple, “Nanshe, if you will excuse me. My students get restless if they are left alone for too long, yes?”

She left the Yellow behind, the Seanchan woman seeming to dismiss her quickly upon the realization that she was being left alone with the fine beverage she had been taunted with earlier. The Green had not seen someone so fixated on a libation since…

She entered the small room behind him, feeling immediately as though she should not have come. Men and women in nondescript clothing, all in somber hues, filled the room in small clusters, their voices hushed, their eyes full of the same sort of wariness she had grown accustomed to seeing in Jasin’s own eyes.

This was a clandestine group celebrating a sacred ritual and though she had known the woman who was being honored, though she had genuinely liked her easy manner and her evident confidence, and though she would forever be truly grateful for what Lucilla had done to save her mother’s life, Naidea felt as though she did not belong. It was not something she could attribute to the men and women in the room, however. Though their manner was closed, they did not look at her with accusation or recrimination in their sharp eyes. No, it was sheer guilt that made her feel as though she should not have sullied this event with her presence.

Though the Taraboner knew that no man or woman present would fault an Aes Sedai for the death of one of their own, she could not say the same for herself. The Green sister was well aware of the fact that each and every one of the operatives present knew that their lives were forfeit in the face of danger if it meant serving the Tower, but she could not face such truths so dispassionately. Though it was perhaps foolishness or naïveté on her part, Naidea could not deny that she felt as though she could have done more to help Lucilla.

“Jasin, perhaps…”

He turned and reassured her with a gentle half smile. It was an odd gesture on his part; Jasin was many things, but in the Green’s mind gentle was not one of them. Still, there was something in that particular discordance that stilled her worries almost immediately, though she could not say why.

“Have a seat wherever you like. I’m up first.” He gestured toward an empty table and all she could do was nod in response. He turned to look over at her once more before moving to the small podium in the center of the room, “Remember, here you’re just Naidea.”

Her returning smile was answered in kind and Naidea felt the discomfort ebb out of her slowly. She truly was being foolish. Lucilla deserved to be honored and if her presence here did anything to serve that end, then it was the very least she could offer. Besides, the woman’s own partner had invited her to this reunion and she had not been judged upon arriving. Perhaps it was her experience with the women of the Tower, so false on the surface, that had made her distrust Jasin on some level when he had said that she would just be another person here to honor a fallen comrade. Perhaps the taint of the Game she had done her best to avoid for the past fifteen years of her life had left more of an impression upon her than she had realized.

Naidea cast her honey brown eyes over the people gathered around her, receiving small gestures of welcome in return. A raised glass here, a polite nod, a half bow. Light, but I am being foolish. There is sadness here, refuge being taken in drink, true, but no judgment. This is not about me… or any of us. It’s about Lucilla… As it should be.

A sudden hush suddenly commanded everyone’s attention. It was time to begin. And as Jasin had stated previously, he was to be first.

"We've done so many secret things over the years in the name of protecting this city that we've created two worlds.” He paused for a moment, meeting the eyes of his comrades in arms before he continued. There was a sense of comfort in his voice, an ease of command over the attention of others that she had noticed before, yet was only now beginning to truly appreciate. When Jasin spoke, others listened. It was evident in the way the room turned toward him subtly and had been evident in the faces of those who had worked with him in Ebou Dar. Though he had no titles to hide behind, the man commanded respect. It was as simple as that.

He continued, his voice steady, “Ours and the people we promise to protect. Lucilla was never in this for the Tower. She was in this for the people. She was in this for their world."

Naidea shook her head slightly as she strode toward the lower levels of the Tower. The errant thought and the smell of brandy had led her mind down a path she did not relish, though with his presence so near and their bond so new, it was difficult not to think of it. She had distractedly felt Jasin’s presence grow distant while she had been in the ‘meeting’, but as easy as it was for her to become preoccupied with the puzzle that was her newest Gaidin, it was not something she could ponder at the moment. Though she would have hoped to have been able to shirk her duties and return to the privacy of her quarters after such an odd and frankly disappointing meeting with the women she would be travelling with, she had a class to teach and assignments to give to be completed in her absence. If that Grey is an example of the kind of woman being given the Ring and the Shawl, then the Light knows I have work to do… Though it is more than her inexperience that is troubling me, yes? There is something familiar about that pout and it is nagging at the corners of my mind… I do not trust her…

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Hours later, as the sun began to kiss the deep purple surface of the Erinin, Naidea sighed with a small smile as she made her way through the Tower. Though she had initially allowed the circumstances in which she found herself to sour her mood, her students had done much to relieve her stress. They always do…she thought with a smile.

Now as she approached the Green halls of the Tower again she could feel the two bundles of emotion in her mind growing more distinct with every step. It was a comfort, knowing that she was returning not to an empty set of apartments but to two friends who would fight alongside her and assist her in her efforts to combat the Shadow. As well as certain wicked Red trollops who…

Naidea stepped into her quarters, wondering for a moment why she had thought of the woman who had seemed to make it her mission in life to antagonize her before her mind began to work furiously. She stood near her door for a few moments in silence, then the inexplicable connection was made and she remembered why she had been so full of misgivings concerning Mirielle Lasan… Amine glanced up from her work, holding the grip of her curved sword in her left hand and a whetstone in the other with a knowing light growing in her eyes while Jasin walked toward her, a drink in hand that Naidea only half noticed before she exclaimed, “Light, but I know her!”

Her newest Gaidin cocked an eyebrow but was unable to say a word before she took the drink from his hand and knocked it back like someone who actually knew how to handle their liquor. After much coughing and sputtering on her part, she was able to continue and answer the questions evident in the eyes of both of her bondmates, “I am being led into Murandy by a woman who was only months ago one of my most troublesome students. Light, but we are being led into a civil war by a petulant child!”

Jasin looked at her for a second or two in thought, and then without a word, led her gently to the table in the center of the room. She set the glass she'd all but stolen from him in front of herself as Jasin grabbed the bottle sitting to one side and poured another shot for her. "Here, take another drink," he said as he poured. The ball of emotions in the back of his mind had a hint that she hadn't really handled her thoughts so much as put them to the side for a while. Then she walked in and the revelation happened. "There's a story I need to tell you that I think can help you with what you're going through," he finished as he corked the bottle again and waited.

She gave him a look after glancing at the drink for a split second. "It isn't the 'Reserve," he told her in good humor with a smile. "For all that you almost gagged at the bitterness, you can handle it." He smiled, "Trust me. It'll help you relax in a quick fashion, which you need now I think."

She looked at him for another few seconds, more in wariness of the drink than of him, he could feel that much, but she drank. She took it slower, a few sips at a time instead of gulping it down. When she finished, Jasin waited a few minutes, with Amine just looking on, continuing her chores with her sword as she did. As he watched her for those minutes, he couldn't help but remember the night she'd sought him out...

Jasin let out a breath as he stared into his drink. After each toast, as if by rote, he raised his glass with everyone else, and took a sip of the drink. The one he'd chosen for this was Gaidin's Reserve, a rather stiff drink, so he wasn't taking solid drinks like those with bottles of wine sitting next to them. Even with only thirty-odd people in the room, it was a lot to take in that fast. For being the other agent on the mission with her, he'd gotten the honor of the first toast.

Other toasts had followed, and now he was careful about how he held himself, as much as he'd taken in. But still he stared, wondering about the mission. Wondering how things could've gone. He'd been on this end before, but this one seemed to hit him harder. He and Lucilla had not just worked together. They'd been through the kind of thing that left them more brother and sister than fellow agents.

Melly, he still didn't call her that to her face, though they'd been in a few tangles together, had been sitting with him for the past few toasts. She'd passed on a bit of wisdom about the entire ordeal, something that made him wonder what she'd been through. After a second of that train of thought, he shut it off and just took the comfort the friend offered for what it was. They'd traded war stories for a bunch of the toasts, some of them interesting on both sides, while Jasin kept a casual eye on Naidea, unable to help but wonder if she would step up or not.

There wasn't a line for people to stand in. People just stood and said out their toasts when they felt proper. Eventually, she felt it was her time. Jasin turned toward her as she stood. She held a glass of wine in her hand, somewhat more carefully than one normally had to. Like everyone else, she'd worked through quite a bit to drink herself. She almost announced, "I will not pretend to say that I knew Lucilla well or for very long," She started, but had to cut off almost right away, wiping tears from her eyes. "I know that I am here surrounded by her friends and those who loved her and...because of that I must say that I am honored to have been allowed to be a part of this..."

She paused for a few seconds, as if in thought. But that wasn't it. She took a slow breath, marshalling herself, making sure she could finish what she wanted to say. "I must also say that I will forever feel indebted to Lucilla and I will never forget her or her sacrifice." She wiped a tear off her cheek as it slid down, "It is because of one valiant woman that many others still draw breath..."

The pause was longer this time, her word unable to match pace with her grief. The silence in the tavern they'd reserved was deafening. Slowly, she raised her glass and their eyes met, "That debt, that gift, will never be forgotten."

With a slow, somber nod, Jasin rose his glass in answer.

"What's this story?" she asked him suddenly as she finally got a little too impatient to keep waiting. She seemed a little more relaxed though.

"Once," Jasin started. "Twelve years ago, there was an agent for the Tower, he'd just finished the year's worth of training they had for his program." He held her stare as he paused for a second before continuing, "They sent him to Tear. The instructions given were only the most basic that could be given. 'Develop contacts' they said. 'Learn the balance of the realm' they said. 'Send us what you learn' they said."

"It sounds like a fairly simple job," Naidea responded, not quite despondently, but not at the top of her emotional game either.

"It was. They came to him occasionally with specific jobs." Jasin shrugged, "He did them. He sent them the results. Sometimes they liked them, sometimes they didn't. But they gradually built him up to the level of missions they preferred for their best agents."

"What then?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Seven years later another agent graduated. Fresh out of training, she was sent to him," Jasin slid the glass in front of her over to him and he poured himself a drink. "She knew how to do everything he did, but she didn't have the experience he did to really know in her gut when things were going her way or not."

"The Tower sent her to him?" Naidea asked as he took a sip.

"That they did," Jasin answered. "Darkfriend activity was picking up. And for all that they gathered intel on both the Criminal Underworld and the Nobility as well, their primary mission was countering the Darkfriends in the same sense that the Borderland military machine fought the Shadowspawn directly." He finished half the glass and slid the rest over to her. She didn't take it though, letting it sit in front of her. "It was her mission, they told him. He was her advisor, support, and backup, but it was her command. Though if truly necessary, he could take over command."

"Did he?" she asked.

"He didn't," Jasin said. "It turns out she was quite capable. But his reaction to the orders was much as yours is now. 'Why am I not in charge?' he wondered. 'She should be building her network' he thought. But...." he let that word trail off.

"Darkfriend activity was picking up," Naidea answered, as if it was obvious. She was letting him finish.

"Precisely," he told her. "The Tower desperately needed more agents capable of operating at what they considered full capacity." He shrugged yet again, "This way, they thought, it wouldn't take nearly as long. They were right."

"For the ones that survived?" she asked.

"True enough, quite a few didn't," Jasin answered. "But they were desperate. This was about necessity, not preference."

"Signs do say The Last Battle is not far away," she admitted.

"You've got your experience," Jasin told her. "So does the Sitter and the Healer."

"She needs room to make her own mistakes and learn from them," Naidea finished.

Jasin nodded, "Give her the room she needs. She needs an adviser now more than she needs a commander, I'm betting. So advise." Jasin paused for a second in thought, trying to come up with a way to say this. "The hardest part about what you're walking into is telling the difference between what they need, and what you think they need. Your gut will tell you when you need to bring out the stick. Trust it. Until then, stay with the carrot."

The door clicked shut behind Naidea Tovane, and Nanshe exhaled finally as she slumped in her seat. The high-backed chair was comfortable enough, but for a second time that day, she felt regret at having left her sickeningly yellow fainting couch and the exotic flavors of her pipe.

“Bad omen, indeed,” she mused to herself while simultaneously mustering the willpower to sit upright, and perhaps even stand up. “This promises to be as enjoyable as walking The Ways.”

The bottle of brandy the fair haired girl had thought good enough to taunt her with sat across the room, a tantalizing gleam reflected on its side. She considered it with eager brown eyes while she bit her lower lip gently; pride betrayed by desire. Ah, but if that wasn’t the story of her life. She stood up, finally. The fringed shawl fell off her, by then, bared shoulders entirely and hanged onto her form loosely as she crossed the distance to the decanter and glass. She poured the liquid onto a fresh glass, and let it sit for a minute while she organized the remaining glassware on the silver tray calmly. If the Gray girl was thinking she would squirm and flail towards the drink and guzzle it down sloppily as if parched after a week in the Waste, she truly knew nothing about the World or about Nanshe herself. To be fair, however, very little people knew much about the former and even less about the latter.

She spun on her heels briskly, the chosen glass of liquor in hand and leaned back on the table with a single arm crossed under her bosom and supporting the other. She stared into the emptiness of the Gray wing, its decoration tasteful if unimaginative and boastful of places its members had probably never been, people they had probably never met and the deeds they probably had never accomplished. Her eyes fell onto the drink and finally shut while she took the first sip and considered the future of the task assigned to her, and the other unwilling women gathered there that day.

She felt the drink slide down her throat, its taste and feel familiar and always welcome. A small comfort, of sorts, as through it she remembered clearly who she was, who she was not, and who she would never be. It’s fine this way. The long brown curls that spilled down her back rocked as she tossed her head and raised her chin with unexpected confidence.

“Don’t worry,” she said to herself in a mocking tone. “This should be fun.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

First light was probably a good twenty minutes past, but even so, Nanshe walked with overflowing ease. Surely the small Gray mistress had thought this to be disrespect, but the Seanchan was truthfully far too enthralled with her current philosophical debate to give the little Sister a second thought. She followed the visibly annoyed White Sister insistently, and waved her arms around as to consolidate her point.

“I’m telling you, Salitsuna Sedai,” Nanshe continued, “it’s entirely logical, from a philosophical point of view, is it not?”

“Nanshe Sedai,” the woman replied with forced patience, “I just think it’s not very plausible… The logistics alone should…”

“But, think about it! The Creator aside –this is not really a religious idea–, if we were to think that a single life, or thread in the pattern, is controlled and guided by a sentient mind or being, and that that mind could likewise guide the pattern of other threads and lives, AND that these sentient minds not only knew each other but wove together the patterns, taking the time to discuss and plan the overall outcome of the twists and binds that make up the pattern, wouldn’t it better explain the coincidences and random happenstances of our daily lives?”

Her face was getting the better of her by now. The smile was betraying amusement rather than excitement, which wasn’t to say the White had not picked up on it before. After all, she was a smart woman; a smart, unamused woman.

“Nanshe Sedai,” she began coolly. “I really do not thank you for wasting my-"

“Nanshe Sedai!” The voice belonged to a young servant, the Seanchan saw, who ran towards her with evident urgency. Nanshe smiled broadly and waved pleasantly at the woman with the flame embroidered on her chest.

“Yes?” she asked, almost innocently.

“The embassy…” the poor woman huffed. “They… are waiting… You… They…”

“Oh, that’s right,” Nan answered calmly. She turned to the other Aes Sedai with a agreeable look before excusing herself. “Well, I’m afraid we will have to continue this some other time, Salitsuna Sedai. As always, it has been illuminating.”

She turned quickly, the gold tinted skirts of her Tairen-esque cut dress swaying behind her, and walked smoothly towards the Tower stables where the group, no doubt, waited in fury. For a while she suppressed the urge to bite her thumb. Damn. I almost thought they’d be persuaded to leave me. No such luck, she realized, as more faces than she expected turned to gaze on her as she descended Ogier crafted stairs gingerly.

“Good morning,” she said politely, secretly glad her mask from earlier remained. No doubt the group had thought to find her irritable and hung over. Surprise, goat kissers. You didn’t think I’d give you all the pleasure of seeing me so, did you? Readjusting her shawl, she patted down the laced mahogany-colored bodice that held up the lightly ruffled gold chemise and ensuing skirts. The outfit itself held little embroidery or decoration, and still managed to stand out like a sore thumb in comparison to her companions’ attire. Perhaps it was her exposed arms. Clearly the shawl wasn’t helping. She grinned again.

“We wouldn’t happen to be taking a carriage, would we? I don’t think this dress is suited for riding.”

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[OOC- And, so, I give you, "The next day..." Enjoy.]