The First Age

Sand sprayed stinging nettles. It stuck to the sweat drenching his face and chest. There wasn’t time to swipe his eyes. The flash of a sword crashed too close to his neck that time. Jai rolled toward the harder packed sand, but his knee sank into a collapsing pit. He flung his own blade upward, in frantic defense. Their blades connected, and the force of it threw him off balance. He twisted his arm, holding the sword high in the air as it could go seconds before sea foam crashed up his nose.

Coughing and sputtering, he tried to get up without dunking his sword in sea water, which rumor said was kind of hard on beautiful blades, power-wrought or otherwise. At the very least he’d have to rebind the grip and what a bloody annoying chore that was. Rather than push up, a point poked hard into his back. Grumbling, he flattened out, defeated. At least the surf felt good. Every pore on his skin sweat, shirtless and shoeless as he was. The pants were soaking through with each wave. He was going to have to dry them off with saidin later. Walking around in salt-dried clothes was torture.

Meantime, his arm was on fire holding the sword up out of the surf.

“For bloody sake, take the sword, would you?!” Water sprayed from his lips as he sputtered between seafoam.

After a moment, the weight was gone. A woman’s voice answered.
“I assume you are yielding.”

“Never!” he jested, but Jai didn’t really need to yield. Saidin would make quick work to turn the tide of their battle. He squirmed, but the voice responded, harder, swifter, just as the pressure on his back increased.
“Don’t try it, Asha’man.”

“I bloody yield you blight-forsaken trolloc,” he grumbled. The point on his back retreated and Jai rolled over. Surf crashed into the top of his hair. Above, a silhouette blocked the bright Domani sun. At least she was perfectly positioned to shade his eyes. Until she seemed to realize the favor she was doing and stepped aside to offer a hand up.

He grabbed it, thinking about yanking her down with him, but knowing that she was the current master of a sword he really didn’t want to see tossed into the ocean, he just took the hand with a grin.

“Double or nothing makes you owe me ten gold,” she said.

As she returned the sword to its owner, he checked it carefully for damage. The blade was perfect, barely without a scratch. It was curved slightly in the style of his ancestors and the style he grew accustomed to as a young man. The wrappings were taut. The etch of his initials near the guard JK caught the sunlight. He smothered a sigh of relief and responded.
“Blood and bloody ashes, Trista, it’s not like I have it on me. Come on, admit I mean more to you than a payday.”

The silver-haired gaidar only lifted one slender silver eyebrow. She started to walk away as Jai swat at the sand sticking his chest and stomach. The horrifying scar remained as obvious as ever. Though Trista didn’t so much as blink the first time he peeled his clothes to the waist.

“See you tomorrow?!” he called after her. She simply grabbed her boots on the way and began the long trek back. Rocky cliffs met sand at a steep angle. There would be no way up for at least a mile back. Jai smirked and once he was sure Trista was mostly out of sight – not that she would be scandalized – he stripped of the wet pants and tossed them where his coat and other belongings waited. The sword was laid atop, far from the sea foam.

It was on another beach near here where he once chucked shorts to the sand and threw himself to the wild waters. He smiled a moment to himself, wondering what she was doing that very moment. Then, with a deep breath, he walked into the water and dove head-first into the only place that resembled paradise on earth.

With a snort, Jai shot straight in the chair. His head was woozy like he’d been punched in the skull. Course that hadn’t happened, or if it had, he’d remember it. Probably. Actually, now he thought about it, getting punched in the head tended to be followed by painful oblivion. Which obviously he preferred the blissful oblivion of drunkenness, but since that whole stint at Araya’s, he’d sworn off drinking.

Twenty faces sat around a circular table: lords and ladies of the ruling academy of Arad Doman. Jai rubbed his eyes and realized those nearest to him were looking at him blandly.
Lady Krora, a senior noble with streaks of white through her raven hair, lifted an eyebrow across from him,
“Nice nap, Asha’man?”

Jai snatched the cup of wine from the table in front of him. So he swore off drinking, but wine didn’t count. He lifted it in her honor and nodded. Nearby, the conversation grew heated. Economics, policy, trade. The only reason Jai was even sitting at this table – actually he had no idea why he was here at all.

He shoved out of the chair, rubbing the back of his neck. Bloody uncomfortable way to sleep, he thought, glancing at Daryen. He was currently occupied by Lord Qoaos, a dark-skinned Tairen High Lord resplendent in a bright red coat, but despite the surely thrilling topic at hand, the king glanced upward. Jai shook his head in disappointment and shuffled toward the side of the room. Despite the sea breeze blowing through high windows and the promise of evening’s cooling temperature, sweat slicked his chest.

A servant hurried to his side as Jai started to rummage through the wine bottles, “My lord, may I help you?”

Jai barked a laugh. “I’m no lord,” he said, tapping his collar. The pins were obvious enough, but the young man of probably sixteen looked white as a ghost. Before he started to stammer apologies, Jai cut him off. “If you’re stuck on tradition, call me Asha’man Kojima,” he plucked a bottle and held the label up to the light. Nope, shitty wine. Too spicy.

“Is there something I can help you find?”

“How about a reason not to fall on my sword rather than endure another hour of sleeping in those blight-forsaken uncomfortable chairs?” The bottles clinked as he moved them about.

The servant’s voice went up two octaves, “Do you want a pillow sir?”

Jai laughed, “Actually that’s not a bad idea. Keep that in mind for next time,” he pat the kid on the shoulder, two hands shorter than Jai, and nudged him onward. He finally plucked a bottle from the back, barely been touched. “Here we go,” he poured himself a glass then held it up to the servant. “Want some?” The kid’s eyes flared wide. Jai smirked. Poor kid. “How new are you?”

He seized the power, and before the kid could explain much more than it was his first week, the glass was chilled to ice and Jai gulped it down with soothing relief. “You’ll get used to the channeling but watch your back. You never know when the taint will make me snap and turn everyone into sacks of blood and guts.”

He left the poor kid basically trembling. He was kidding of course, but at least he’d think twice about begging to serve Asha’man Kojima in the future.

Jai wandered outside having abandoned the chilled glass to the capable hands of the servant.

After sunset, the same group expanded to a larger dinner party. Jai found Trista at the head banquet table and slipped into a seat near her. Nearby, the king was dressed in a long purple tunic with gold roses sewn along the seams. His silk pants flowed as he walked, the thin material pasted against the line of his legs as he moved.

Jai swallowed, looking the man up and down. As he slipped into a seat at the table, he whispered a few choice words, but the damn woman still didn’t laugh.

The meal was uneventful except for the accidental bite of pudding that Jai regretted as soon as he licked the spoon. Who puts spice in banana pudding? After that, he had to chill down three glasses of wine to wash the heat from his tongue. The only thing that ruined the night was when two Aes Sedai that Jai didn’t recognize joined the dinner. They mostly kept to themselves, but his skin crawled every time they glanced in his general direction.

As was his life in the Arad Doman court, he mostly waited around in case something bad happened that required the intervention of a ghastly, terrifying channeler. He was no warder, so the pace he took when generally following the king around was one of boredom rather than that of high alert. Trista filled that role enough for the both of them. She was good enough to look at, Jai thought as he glanced upward. She seemed to know that he was looking, because she glanced such a glare over her shoulder back at him, that he whistled and looked innocently elsewhere. It didn’t fool her, nor did he try to, but she still didn’t laugh. Bloody women. So her looks definitely made up for her chill nature, and it fanned the flames of the rumors about the king’s personal relationships. When he announced that he lost an unknown child and an unknown love of his life, the court became a kicked ant hill, and Trista the next choice meat they might devour. Jai was content to throw her to their gnashing teeth because it took the heat off him.

They were all wrong, though. When Daryen was around Trista, affection bloomed, but Jai felt no heat akin to longing. Trista and he shared some intimate evenings, but when she stayed in the king’s chamber, she went nowhere near his bed. Jai didn’t exactly spend every single night there just to confirm it, but he was around often enough to know that if they were entangled, it wasn’t physical.

Along those lines, he watched Trista and Daryen escape to somewhere private to discuss whatever it was they talked about. Jai wasn’t exactly invited, but when he was around, the topic of conversation changed, sometimes flat out disappeared. As much nervous energy as was pent up inside, he finally opted to go his own way and let the rumor mill have its food for fodder.

The room claimed for his own was ghastly gaudy. At first he refused the space, but once it was pointed out that the humble accommodations were quite the walk from the king’s private quarters, he begrudgingly accepted them, but only on the requirement that all the gaudy shit that wasn’t nailed down had to be taken out. Hell, he’d strip off the wallpaper if he didn’t infuriate Yuri the housekeeper too badly.

He was just about to reach for the knob, knots of wards presently being disentangled, when the clearing of a throat caught his attention.
He looked up just in time to witness the approach of one of the king’s dinner guests: one of the two Aes Sedai. He grumbled to himself. Outwardly, a brilliant smile brightened his expression. His elaborate bow was probably going to be taken for mockery, but for the right woman, may be found charming. It was a gamble either way.

She was ageless as they all were. No white touched her hair, so she had to be at least less than middling age for such women. Her hair was an ash blonde and she was dressed in a pale green dressed slashed with yellow in the style favored by Aes Sedai. Her hair was styled neatly, but not ornately. She was unlikely to be of noble origin, then. Simple jewelry dangled from her neck, but the cut of her collar was too high to show off any bosom, if she had one. Her expression was absolutely serene, which Jai hated. It gave him nothing to go from.

“Aes Sedai, I prefer to be bought a drink first, but if you’re in a hurry, I probably have some fine spirits left that we can share, unless wine is more your taste,” he said suggestively. It usually flickered some sort of response from even the most composed sister, and if she were a Green, then he may have a shot of a good time. If not, well the response was always amusing.

Unfortunately, she was one of the middle road Sisters, who neither took the bait nor was disarmed by it. He could have tsked with disappointment.

Instead, she paused several steps away from him, and that horrible feeling of being dissected sent a chill down his spine.
“How can I help you, Sister?” he asked, carelessly laying his arm on the pommel of the new sword. If she knew about the M’Hael’s punishment, and Jai assumed they all knew, she may find the posture notable. Then at least he knew what he was dealing with.

“You’re Asha’man Kojima,” she said.
Jai blinked, “If not, then I’m going into the wrong room,” he replied.
“I have a letter for you,” she said, reaching around into her pocket. After a moment, a confused look took over her expression as her hand produced nothing but emptiness. “I seem to have left it in my room.”
Jai’s look was flat. Aes Sedai didn’t accidentally leave letters behind. “In that case, please let me walk with you. No need to traipse all the way back here again, especially after having had all evening to give it to me at dinner,” he said. “Who is it from?” but she didn’t answer.

While they walked, he listed all the people that may have an Aes Sedai deliver a letter. It must have originated in Tar Valon. He knew no one in the other major cities, none that a Brother may not have had reason to deliver himself. His family would be unlikely to enlist the help of the tower to send anything, nor would they know his location at all. It must be from within the Tower itself, and he was not so ignorant as to hope that Nythadri wrote. That left one plausible option.

The Sister strolled effortlessly, while Jai dragged his feet. He’d slept poorly the night before and trained hard before sunrise. Despite his reputation, he wouldn’t mind turning in. The Sister wanted to chat, though.
“So far from the White Tower, news of the happenings must be slow to reach Bandar Eban,” she said.
“Sometimes. I’m sure the king is well-informed, though.”
“His sister the Brown, you mean?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Sure. Besides, when is there never not any news from either Tower? I’m not interested,” he said, wondering how far her quarters were.
“That’s a good point. Gossip isn’t to be taken seriously. Meanwhile, news does travel swiftly in the opposite direction. The king’s position on the seanchan, for instance, is hardly gossip. It’s safe to assume kings and their sisters are of similar mind on important matters.”

Jai frowned, but he didn’t look over. He towered above the Sister’s shoulder, but he didn’t like looking down on women like that. Whatever she was getting at, he wished she’d be about it and get it over with. Maybe a letter wasn’t worth the trouble.
“Sometimes even siblings live on vastly different worlds. Look, Sister. I’m just a pretty face here to make sure the king isn’t stabbed in the back. I don’t really think Browns are too interested in seanchan politics except to transcribe it.” Hopefully that would convince her that he had no clue what was going on.

She paused at a door, unlocking it and inviting him in. He declined having found his mood soured. He wished for Nythadri’s presence to interpret whatever the hell was going on. The Sister shrugged and on short order returned with an envelope, sealed and otherwise seemingly untampered. His name was on the front. The script was certainly feminine.

He thanked her and was several steps away when he opened it.

The words blurred on the page.

He couldn’t believe it. His brother jumped from a bridge. Dead. Andreu was dead by his own hand. Lept from a bridge. Drowned in the waters below. How. Why. What.

He just read the letter over and over again with each reread hoping the meaning changed. That buried deep in the script was a code meant for discovery.

And the signature at the bottom. Her name. She wrote it. But she wasn’t the witness. She told him before someone else did. Before the news reached through the board and meant to shove him around at the hand of a greater player. To use it against him.

Heat rimmed his eyes. A tightness squeezed his chest to pulp. When he looked up, the face of the Aes Sedai was porcelain concern. Did she know the contents? Was she the witness come to tie her strings? Had she read it?

He filled himself with saidin. She couldn’t have known he had but for reading the shadow that fluttered his face. When he stepped forward, she didn’t flinch, but there neither did he miss the sharp intake of her breath and the flare of her pupils.

Before accusations could spill forth, she interrupted with a question that halted him in his tracks.
“Is it from Nythadri Sedai?” she asked.

He blinked as if he hadn’t heard correctly.

Sedai?

Any plans that meant to wring the truth from her disintegrated with speaking her name.

He gripped the letter to a crumple in his palm and ran through a gateway that sliced the air bright behind him.

After he left, the Sister settled her wits about her, except for a slim smile that none was there to behold.

Sibling kings to Aes Sedai Sitters may be able to come and go from the White Tower as they pleased, but their tower brothers were another story. That left few options for him to travel quickly to Tar Valon. Jai rode into the city on horseback. After walking a good two miles to the outer riverbank villages, and found himself turned away in the front hall of the Tower. The last time he smashed down the gates, it was also after dark, and it was seeking the same woman, but he knew better than to test his luck running the same gag twice. And unlike before, he had no idea where in the whole sky-scraping monolith to find Nythadri Sedai.

He frowned at the guardsmen that blocked his path. Without novices of accepted on duty in the front hall, only the brawn were awake. Impatient, Jai turned hesitantly to go, only to catch a familiar face out the corner of his eye.
“Sorry bout that last time, soldier. Nothing personal, you see.” He smirked just as the guardsman realized who he was. “Glad to see you weren’t sacked though. It wasn’t your fault at all. Not like you could have stopped me anyway,” he mocked a fake bow and departed just as others halted the shamed guard from following.  

Jai found the nearest inn that was decidedly not one that belonged to Jaslene Foxsus. No point reopening every wound he had, but as his head hit the pillow for a few hours before sunrise, his mind was abuzz with questions.

Light! Nythadri Sedai. What Ajah was she?! Ajah?! She was Ajah’ed, then. How could she not say so? Did she have a warder? Oh light. Maybe she didn’t want a warder? Even some of the Reds had channeling gaidin these days. White? Maybe it was worse. Maybe she did want a warder, but one that was definitely not Jai. Granted, he was already bonded by someone else. Probably wouldn’t be too much of a problem to be doubly shackled. Probably wouldn’t split his fragile mind into any more pieces. Surely she couldn’t keep going on about that mixed up responsibility of celibacy and her life not being her own. Greens took lovers. Surely they had a solution to the issue of unwanted responsibility? It shouldn’t worry her now, would it? Not that Jai doubted he could even sire children. He’d have heard about such a thing happening by now? Surely. Somebody. Somewhere would have written. Then again, how does one track down an Asha’man: ‘Dear blonde haired tall channeler. Care of Black Tower?’ Bloody impossible.

The first tingles of sunlight woke him. He’d not even taken off his jacket upon crashing in bed. Only his boots and only because he’d stepped in horse shit somewhere in the city and was too tired to clean them the night before. A few slaps of Saidin was all it took to make them gleam, and he left an extra tip on the counter for the hassle of the mess, and hurried to make his triumphant – ahem – return.

The morning crew let him pass the gate this time, but a far worse adversary faced him in the front hall. An Accepted. He didn’t know her name, but all the charm in the world didn’t seem to phase her. Bloody Accepted miniature Aes Sedai.

“Nythadri Sedai. I just want to talk to her. That’s all,” he repeated like it may get a different answer this time.
“She can’t see you now,” the Accepted responded. After his first request, she’d left the hall for a few minutes, and ever since her return, that was the only response.

“Why?” he asked, growing short.

“I can’t say.” She responded.

“Can’t say because they won’t let you tell me or can’t say because you don’t know?”

“I can’t say,” she said again.
Jai swiped his hand through his hair, frustrated and seriously considering storming the tower a second time.

After a minute, he got an idea. He almost hated to say it, but it was better than leaving empty handed. “Fate Sedai,” he said.
“She can’t see you,” the Accepted responded again.
“Blood and bloody ashes, who can see me?” his voice rolled off the walls. The chatter paused momentarily with his outburst.

That was when an unexpected voice responded: “I can.”

He blinked upon realizing who it was.

Lythia Sedai



Anything related to an Asha’man within the Tower immediately alerted Lythia’s eyes and ears. She knew more about the happenings of their black-clad brothers than anyone else of the shawl. So when she was alerted of the presence of an Asha’man seeking admittance in the night, to visit one of her ajah’s newest sisters no less, she took immediate notice.

Asha’man Kojima was a piece on a chessboard for more players than most Asha’man. His proximity to peoples of power put him in the position, but through the actions of his very own making, he ascended the ranks of manipulators into prime attention.

She watched the Asha’man from the edge of the great hall for a few moments before making her presence known. He looked like a different person compared to the one she saw last time, when she witnessed his publicly executed punishment by the M’Hael. It was the kind of thing that made Lythia cringe (inwardly, anyway), but one she did not attempt to halt. Yet it felt like watching a baby brother be tortured. She was glad to see him restored to full health, and thanks to a well-laid net to ensnare Nythadri’s allegiance, and hopefully Jai’s as well, he was here in all his tall, handsome glory. He was a pretty thing, she thought ruefully, though a few shades shy in comparison to her own warder – former warder that was. She’d severed Blakeahle’s bond so he couldn’t track her after their parting from Corartheren. She needed a new warder, but finding a suitable option was proving difficult. Confirming a definite ‘compatibility’ of goals was harder than she thought it would be. Then, indoctrinating herself into a potential network to explain how such things were done also proved difficult. Coming into this allegiance unnaturally, she had few direct contacts. The shadow network was hard to just tap into.

She waited until the best moment and suddenly stepped forward: “I can,” was all she said. The Accepted who’d endured the frustrated Asha’man smoothly curtsied, but Lythia could tell the girl was surprised. An Aes Sedai of Lythia’s power and stature would only be on Hall duty out of some sort of punishment. Just to be sure no such rumor began, she smiled and stretched out an arm to greet him. “Thank you for coming, Asha’man. I’ve been waiting for you. If you’re ready, I’ll show you up?” she hoped he would latch onto the suggestion that he’d been invited and at least they could together feed into the rumor mill simultaneously. Lythia was gorgeous today, as usual. Her chiseled cheeks and plump lips were colored with life as brilliant as the flaming red of her hair. She wore it loose today, as she typically did when about the Tower, saving the intricate braids for work in the field. 

Otherwise, she wore an emerald green silk dress. It was cut with a swirling effect over the bodice and sleeves and embroidered with fine golden thread to catch the light. The overskirts were of fine golden vein silk intended to give it a floating effect when she walked. To add depth, the dress has a gentle ombre of darker green tones added to the hems of both the skirts and sleeves. It was rather uncharacteristic of Lythia to wear a court-style gown about the Tower where in recent years she wore sturdy boots, wool skirts and simple, movable pieces. Yet she’d also commissioned several more luxurious gowns.

He heard the words. Heard them but didn’t process them. Maybe it was the mouth speaking them didn’t connect with the rest of her face. He knew her. Every Soldier in the Black Tower knew her name. One visit to the grounds and the Soldiers practically drooled themselves into worthless dogs. Then again, not like many gorgeous women came to town even among the Aes Sedai visitors. Maybe it was because she was the – ahem - partner – of a former M’Hael. Every fresh-faced Soldier daydreamed as much for themselves. The tales of their partnership were legendary.

He knew the face but looked over his shoulder like she may be speaking to someone standing behind him. When it was clear that the Accepted was ever watching, and that the Aes Sedai was expecting him to respond in kind, Jai bowed more smoothly than he felt. An awkward amount of time had passed.
”Lythia Sedai. Thank you for, uh, inviting me?”

It was incredibly awkward to take her arm into his, and although she was incredibly tall for a woman, Jai still towered at her side. One glance at her shoulder quickly averted his gaze elsewhere. It was like leering down the cleavage of your great aunt. Didn’t matter the hotness of any great aunt. It was gross.

Jai wanted to crawl out of his skin, but at least he was inside the Tower. While they walked, he kept his eyes peeled for familiar faces along the way, and the task kept his gaze level with the horizon.
“Lythia Sedai, I appreciate what you did for me,” he finally said, “But do you know where I can find Nythadri Sedai?”

From the witness of servants and Sisters alike, Lythia confidently led her assumed guest deeper into the Tower. Eventually they came upon the domain of the Green Ajah, and given the admonishment of her companion, assumed the venture was his first time. Such was not the first time she escorted a handsome man home, but she monitored those who noticed as keenly as those who pretended to dismiss the trivial event. She wanted to sigh. The level of paranoia induced by her transition was tiring at times. She’d heard that Jai’s madness took suspicion into a pathological realm. She wouldn’t forget when the time came to press those buttons, perhaps drawing upon personal experience to drive the pressure to the nerve.

She pressed her fingers into the curve of his arm, tugging so slightly in the direction of her apartment and enjoyed the stroke of his bicep as she did so. The doors of the Green Ajah were inlaid with the designs of many swords. Colors and lacquer decorated the many shapes and symbols, all displaying the ranks and assignments of the Sister dwelling within. Their meanings known only to the Greens. The flex of his arm did not go unnoticed, and when he glanced, she tried to soothe his anxiety with a calm smile. “Nythadri Sedai is precisely who I want to discuss,” she said.

Lythia’s apartment was grand as was fitting her strength in the power and hierarchy within the Sisterhood. The furnishings were lavish, more now than ever, but it was the weaponry on display that cowed even the most irreverent of Black Tower visitor. Her warder’s sword, a weapon of a blademaster forged by the one power, was most prominently displayed. Flanking it were Aiel weapons and the property of her deceased half-brother. The Aiel blood sang within them both, sharing only a father, and along with their aptitude for battle, Lythia shared the hair color of their kin.

The door sealed them into privacy as she waited to see what he would do next. Dark be damned, but he was a pretty one. No wonder Nythadri was under the spell.

His chest was tight as a cage. The further he was pulled into the Tower, the more the cage seemed to close up around him. The Tower was pristine. So completely, painfully white. Like the box he'd be buried in. He only knew he'd not been put under the dirt was simply because his legs were burning from that bloody ramp. How did the Amyrlin make it to the top every day? No wonder Amyrlins were notorious for being in a bad mood. 

Lythia Sedai was cool as a cucumber. Not that surprising. Aes Sedai were always like that. She said little along the way, and Jai had the feeling he was being paraded. Normally, he would put stride to strut for the audience but for the sinking feeling in his chest of being slowly buried. It was only when Lythia said she wanted to discuss Nythadri Sedai that Jai decided this was worth the risk and ducked into her rooms.

He gasped when he saw the priceless display. Every Soldier bragged about knowing someone who knew someone who once saw Shadow al’Mere training with the very blade Jai now beheld. Tall tales at best, lies at worst. Shadow al'Mere was long dead. Only the most veteran of Asha'man would have known the man, and they didn't talk about it. He dared not touch it, but the Aes Sedai wouldn’t know if he channeled a caress of earth. Just to feel the power-wrought metal sing. The stories said it would. 

Saidin filled him with at least the familiar warmth of impending carnage, and he reached out a small thread of Earth. Within a moment, a jolt of electricity bounced back. He gasped, shaking his hand like it had been burned on a hot stove.

The weapons were warded. He turned to look at her, unable to keep the sheepish look from his face and shrugged as the sizzling sensation faded.
“Sorry about that. You hear stories about that sword. Just wanted to know what it felt like,” he said and decided to touch nothing else, One Power or the old-fashioned way. Guess she didn’t like her things messed with.

After that embarrassing little moment was over, he put a hand to his heart and mustered all the formality he could summon, “Lythia Sedai, I appreciate what you did for me, but I need to find Nythadri Sedai. It is frankly, its personal, but I need to talk to her. Can you just tell her I’m here?”

Lythia alone knew more about saidin than most other living sisters, and Jay was hardly a serene channeler. His use of the power was brazen and apparent, but she made casual work of arranging a fresh cup of tea while he loitered over the weaponry. The smile of amusement that sprang up when he gasped was hidden by her attention elsewhere. Upon confronting his intrusion, only a raised brow was revealed.

She accepted no such apology, nor really made any effort to assuage him of his guilt. Instead, she embraced saidar.

Moments later, the sword came to Lythia’s grasp. She’d forgotten how heavy it was, and for a moment, the heartbreak of the past started to flicker her senses. What a waste it all was.

“Here, you can touch it.” She offered him the sword to hold and study. The one at his hip was not lost to her, and a tease of touching his in return flickered hot for a moment before she thought the better of herself. Seducing this poor boy would do nothing for her larger goal, and erode the tentative trust she worked hard to build in Nythadri. Of course, that was all initiated prior to her conversion, but Nythadri had to be useful somehow still.

That was when there was a knock at the door.

“Excuse me,” she said, leaving him with the sword, morbidly curious to know what he would do alone with the weapon.

The last person she expected in that moment was Kekura Sedai. The Red never roamed the Green halls, but a message was not unheard of. Kekura was a Sitter and stronger in the One Power, although not by a terrible amount. Tradition dictated their interaction be one of politeness. Besides, Lythia was instantly intrigued by receiving a message just at that very moment.

She opened the letter right there at her door; only to toss it in the fireplace as soon as she returned to Jai.

“Asha’man, I would be more than happy to tell my sister, Nythadri that you were here to see her, but she is not in the Tower. Nor in fact is she in Tar Valon at all.”

She paused for a reaction before drawing her fingertips down the flat of the blade. There was a dragon etched into the steel, done so by the Dragon Reborn himself as a gift for a friend and ally. “You know that the man who owned this sword was under immense pressure in the days before he was assassinated. I felt the despair in him and knew that he yearned to end it all. When he died, I was too late to heal him, poor as I was at the skill at the time, but in his last few moments that I held him, do you know what I felt? Sadness, yes; pain, yes. But also relief. He was glad the burden would pass from him,”* she said, finally looking up into Jai’s eyes.

“I am sorry for the loss of your brother. Syn-Jyn would have said that he lucky to have woken from the dream.”

Lythia was surprised that she felt some sincere measure of loss, small as it was, creep in among the anger over their premature deaths, but she pushed the feeling aside in favor of thinking of Kekura’s message.

Which was what led her to circle back to her chair and sip at the tea she’d made earlier. There was a cup for Jai also if he so chose to partake.






*That story is not entirely true. Wink-wink.