The First Age

After Daryen’s departure, Nythadri did not delay her own leavetaking, though there was a cruel sharpness in her chest for what must be left behind. The prevarication had been her own fault, however valid her reasons. Yet it felt like the loss of something vital.


Shadows touched the city, the sun finally slipping beneath the horizon to welcome the night’s bright canvas. Nythadri almost held her breath in anticipation, but the Tower seemed blanketed in its normal evening routines, albeit everything felt a shade quiet. After the sultry evening heat of Bandar Eban, coolness rippled her skin; enough that she shivered. Daryen’s words strung her through with tension, but nothing untoward resonated from her warder. Her sense of Eleanore strengthened with proximity; she could almost pinpoint her exact location with a little focus, and it guided her stride as she entered the halls of her Ajah. Light send the woman had discovered enough to unravel a little of this knot, and pacify Nythadri’s fears in the process.

“Nythadri?”

At the sharp question of her name, Nythadri turned but did not pause her steady pace. Dark skirts swirled about her ankles. If the dress felt like a shroud in Arad Doman, here it felt like armour. She glanced at the Aes Sedai and with careful indifference read the woman’s pursed lip reaction to the discovery of her return. Maylis’s dark hair was swept back and braided, her lithe body wrapped in thickly embroidered green fabric and gold-worked leather. A curved knife tucked in the sash tight around her waist. It gleamed as bright as the streak of silver in her hair. Light but she looked dressed for war. Kabryn stepped tight by her shoulder, his usual affability folded away, the cloak moving queasily about him. He nodded but did not smile. Nythadri noted the formality with a little unease; it was not his usual manner.


They fell into step. She felt the Green’s measuring stare, but only weathered the scrutiny with placid aloofness. Of all her new sisters, this one probably had the most cause to query Nythadri’s short and unannounced absence, and perhaps create a nuisance she really did not have time to address. But it seemed the anomaly was blessedly far from Maylis’s concerns this night.

“Lianora is arranging for the aspirants to visit in the city,” she said. “Just for the night. I might recommend you join them, sister, since it appears you are alone?” Her gaze swept the shadows in obvious question, one disapproving brow arched. The errancy of missing their regular appointment ought to at least have been excused with the procurement of a bondmate. Apparently. The assumptions made of Nythadri’s disappearance soothed a little at least, though it curled tight defence in her stomach too. Maylis had declared it a foolish intention. Did she imagine Jai had said no?

Would he, if she asked?

She liked Maylis well enough, but light she wished the woman would mind her business.

Nythadri did not fill in the blanks, and Maylis gave no indication of pursuit on the topic. Meanwhile Nythadri’s pale stare flickered away in irritated dismissal, puzzling instead over what information was shared. It tipped her tension into the broad strokes of concern; set her thoughts racing. If the Ajah thought to sequester its Accepted, it was because they feared blood might be spilt, and there were few enough reasons to fear that in the heart of the White Tower. She’d purposefully passed the Hall on her journey, but its doors had been closed; only the monolith statues standing eternal guard without. It meant little but that the Wheel turned resolutely out of sight. Kaydrienne’s support could not just have faltered then, it was gone, or as good as. Light. Did Lythia support it? The Sitters? Nythadri’s heart sped with the implications, veins ablaze. They must if the Greens were taking precautionary measures.

How had Talin known any of this was coming?

“Is Lythia here?” she asked. For once the steady hand of someone she trusted would not go amiss. But Maylis only shook her head, and Nythadri refortified herself in silence. She was alone in this anyway; she had to be.

The corridor widened into one of the hall's many inlets, replete with lounging furniture and great windows peering out over the darkened city. Stringed music drifted in the indolent manner of burgeoning composition. A smokey male voice hummed alongside, deep and intoxicating as honey. Song was not so foreign to these halls, but it seemed markedly strange tonight given all she was beginning to suspect transpired beneath the Tower’s calm surface. Nythadri did not recognise the man reclined into the cushions. He was tall, skin gleaming copper against the crisp white of an unlaced shirt. Inky hair curled about his ears. He looked up, a warm gaze appraising their arrival with a smile for the unexpected audience. With his sharp sloping cheeks and bright eyes, it had a manner of rakishness about it.


“Aes Sedai,” he said. Skilful fingers plucked a few more strings on the gittern, and then he stood in one smooth motion. The fold of his bow was theatrical and sweeping. His gaze lingered a little too long, the tip of his quieter smile an invitation of curiosity. Nythadri practically felt the intimate roam of his attention.

“Gleeman,” Maylis said as he slowly straightened. Indeed, the cloak nestled like jewel-toned treasure amidst the cushions, folded neatly next to where he had been sitting. By the tolerant amusement in her tone, she clearly found him charming, yet the manner of her stride as they drew closer brooked no compromise for it. She did not slow. “You might have our dear Lythia’s favour, but let us not seek a reason to rescind your invitation here, no? It seems like a fine evening for entertaining in the city. You might return to us refreshed.”

“I wouldn’t dare outstay a welcome,” he promised. The smile remained, if his eyes caught a little cold on the gaidin. But then being the object of one’s protective scrutiny – and Kabryn was clearly scrutinising – could be no pleasant thing. The gleeman rubbed his chin; it looked absent, but his fingers caught on the blush of a faint red mark against his lip. She was not sure if he grimaced or scowled in response to the pain.

Maylis nodded. Her dark gaze cut momentarily to Nythadri, thoughtful. One hand briefly rested on the hilt of her knife. “Perhaps you might make yourself useful and escort my sister into the city on your way. Kabryn says you held your own well enough on the field, all things considered.”

She turned from him to nod her farewell, then. “Take my advice, sister,” she urged. Her expression was fierce and protective, but a small, sultry smile flashed as she retreated, as good as a nudge and wink. The gleeman clearly noticed by the amused smirk at the corner of his lips, still half covered by his hand. Kabryn was tight on his Aes Sedai’s heels, though he paused long enough to address the man in question. He tapped his own mouth.

“No hard feelings,” he said. Then he nodded to Nythadri, and followed. She could hear the urgent murmuring of their conversion as they departed, but not what was said.

The gleeman moved closer the moment the two slipped from sight. He laughed a little, low and pleasant. The gittern cradled in his grip, one thumb softly striking one of the strings. It was not an instrument Nythadri knew how to play, but its tenor was deep and enjoyable, and the craftsmanship itself was markedly beautiful. He noticed her interest enough to hold it out to her in invitation. “I thought I had met everyone in residence, but you are a new face,” he said. “I’m Zahir.”

He had Lythia’s favour? Nythadri had not thought her the type enamoured of a gleeman’s swagger, but the loss of a bondmate did strange things to a woman, and this one was as handsome and warm as the ripple of desert sands. She’d met his type often enough, a lifetime ago, when she had frequented Caemlyn’s taverns under the moniker of Sacha. Before Farune it was a charm that would have won the provocative flash of smile in return, a meaningless dalliance to soothe a restless soul and steal away again before sunrise. The only question was who stole away first.

Her pale gaze rose from the play of his skilful hands to his darkly devouring gaze. “Nythadri,” she said. “But my sister may have misled. I’m in no need of an escort.” A smirk flickered her lips, but if she was a natural temptress it was a cold one. Little else pierced the stillness of her expression. Light steps drew her backwards, still holding his attention. She did not say goodbye, but she turned after a moment, pulled in the direction of her gaidar.

“The warders are all strung tight as bows,” Elly said. She blew smoke, watched it float over the night-shrouded city far below. Her leather-braced arms rested on the balustrade of delicate white stone. “Even the servants are stepping lightly.”

A ward protected them. Not that anyone was likely to be listening from the shadows of Nythadri’s rooms, but the gnaw of agitation was clenched tight in her gut, and the precaution offered some flimsy shell of control. She leaned back against the stone, turned away from the view, arms folded. Wind ruffled the hair from the back of her neck, pleasant under any other circumstances. Her eyes narrowed sightlessly on the heavy gold drapes of the balcony’s entryway.

“Did you find who you were looking for in Arad Doman?” the warder added.

“No,” she answered, glancing over at the woman. She hadn’t said that she was, but Elly just laughed a little and let the subject drop. Amusement drifted through the bond, and some staunch sense of solidarity that Nythadri did not really understand. She ignored both feelings.

In the small space they had to breathe she considered again what Daryen had said. Or, more aptly, why he had said it. But she had more questions than she could possibly fathom answers to, and her chest constricted with the knowledge that she had to act sooner rather than later. She was going to have to make a choice of priorities before she had all the facts. “Why would the Hall turn on Kaydrienne now? Because of the treaty?” If no Aes Sedai had been at the ceremony then it could not be the catalyst that tipped the hand into action tonight. Daryen had not been remotely worried. Only that grievous sense of unease wasn’t shifting, and she was certain there was something she was missing. “Light, Elly, I need to know who’s leading it,” she muttered. A hand ran over her face, pressed back through her hair; perilously close to spilling all that foolish frustration into view. She felt more than saw Elly shift in discomfort.

“Daryen spoke with me while I was in Bandar Eban. He said I ought to return to the Tower. That my sisters may need my help. But he was strange before he said it, tuned out like he was listening to something else. I have no idea how old he is, El.” She added the last in vague warning, unsure if she was really convinced herself that she was suspecting some remnant of saidin’s taint. Madness could not have created the kind of empire Daryen did. Only nothing much seemed certain these days.

Elly weathered, but a frown plucked her brow. “Aes Sedai, politics mean very little to me. I don’t know what to say to you.” She sighed a little, then straightened, leather creaking. She leaned close. Nythadri tried her best to contain her vexed disappointment at the woman’s honest bluntness. “I spent my life on the Blightborder. The men who raised me didn’t know much about what to do with a little girl, though light knows they tried.” She grinned suddenly. Fiercely. “But living all that time so close to danger, you learn to trust the gut. If it feels wrong it’s wrong. If you’re worried, Nythadri, there’s a reason. Trust it.”

Nythadri gave a light smirk, softened a little at the effort and the earnest way the words were spoken. She knew little so far about the woman’s past; there had been no time for exchanging even the most basic facts of each other's lives. But Elly had been thrust into the centre of this with about as much warning as Nythadri, and with far less aptitude for the game. Her soldier’s perspective simplified everything at least. She’d rather have had poignant insight, but that plaintive steadfastness had its merits too. Trust her intuition. A simple thing to say, but to what end?

It seemed Talin had been aware of deepening currents of unrest, but the Yellow had also known about Arikan by then – that could not have been too short an acquaintance. Months, maybe. Nythadri had not been attentive to her movements once she’d been raised to the shawl; she’d had no reason. But neither of them had been Aes Sedai long. Blood and ashes she wished she’d had the opportunity to interrogate the woman before she’d left the fort in Illian. Better wish for flying fish though. She had to work with what she had.

The dreadlord’s new dedication to revenge was suspect in itself, but coupled with the Tower’s sudden realigning of power, it felt more like movements on a board than incidental catastrophes. Daryen’s warning had not just been odd, it had been chilling.

“What if there are bigger things at play?” she said eventually. The meaning hung between them. Elly’s face darkened.

“Then trusting a… trusting him is even more foolish.” The distrust boiled suddenly between them, overspilled. Elly pushed herself off the stone, pacing the short flagstones. This time it was Nythadri who weathered. She watched the gaidar move like a caged animal. Her fingers tightened like she needed the physical outlet. But right now there were no enemies with faces. “She’s not at all what he said,” she continued. A snarl twisted her lips, but she swallowed it down. Her expression filled instead with entreaty. She was talking about Elsae, clearly.

“I know.”

“Nythadri.”

“My sisters are spiriting our aspirants from the Tower, just in case things turn bloody. If the Hall means to oust Kaydrienne they will have Fate Dark to contend with first – and she’s the strongest woman in the Tower. No one is like to forget what happened the last time an Amyrlin was deposed. Things might get difficult here.” She spoke levelly. Glad at least to grasp the focus. It solved something, at least; whatever happened next, they could not simply leave Elsae here. Friendship meant that much, whatever the difference a shawl was supposed to make. “I’m sure the other Ajahs must be making their own arrangements, but Elsae has no declared aspirancy. Light but she’s dragging her heels worse than even I did. I can offer her protection. We can get her out of the Tower before any of this starts.”

“So we yank her from the fire only to drown her instead?”

“Blood and Ashes, I don’t intend kidnap. She’ll have the choice, Elly. We’ll give her the choice. Everyone deserves that.”

Elly prickled. Resentment flooded between them, stronger than Nythadri might have predicted. The issue of choice was a delicate matter considering the origins of their bond, but she’d thought it a conflict resolved in truce. She accepted the decisions Elly made; that the vows meant something even if they had been forced at almost literal sword-point. Elly’s jaw flexed. The old argument haunted, but all she said was; “That’s what the letter was for. Securing somewhere to take her. We’re not going straight back to Illian, then.”

For a moment Nythadri only blinked, aghast; brutally offended with Eleanore’s doubt. Had she really expected otherwise? It cut a little deep. She thought back to rain-drenched grass and the resolute way Elly had knelt to fate’s hand. Nythadri had hardly hesitated, even though it had sat nauseous in her stomach at the time. She considered for the first time what Elly might have assumed of her capabilities. How this wound might fester the trust between them if she was not careful. “Of course not.”

Her pale stare was unblinking. Elly looked away first.

“Give me a chance to catch up. You explain practically nothing,” she snapped.

“Light, Elly. Light. Okay, that’s fair,” Nythadri admitted. She pushed away from her perch. Drew closer. Honesty didn't cost, but the lessons must be learnt quickly, and Nythadri feared she was too slow. Contrition was offered through their connection, and she meant it. “I don’t know how much Elsae knows. She was the Accepted a darkfriend tried to take in the city; do you remember that? I suspect she may have seen Arikan in dreams since then, given what he said. How long must he have hunted? The Tower has protected her, but it cannot do so forever. I don’t know why he wants her; not for the reasons he said, I’m sure. But for now we will play this game as we must.”

She met the appeal head on, hooked the gaidar lightly by her arm. The muscles were corded tight. Something twisted in the bond, though Nythadri was not sure what it was; it flashed and was gone. Elly deflated. Her dark gaze angled down, still full of glower. In that quiet moment Nythadri practically felt the woman grapple with her; to try to read the sensations that passed between them. It almost made her smile, but for the dire circumstances.

“You’re still thinking about what the king said to you. That gut feeling.”

“I cannot be in all places at once,” Nythadri agreed. “Though tonight I fear I need to be.”

The warder placed her calloused fingers over Nythadri’s, where they still rested on the crook of her arm. She squeezed light, then let go. Lithe steps took her into the darkened room beyond. The last words she threw back over her shoulder. No difficult formality this time. “It feels wrong to leave you here, if things are as bad as you say. But write me another letter, Aes Sedai. I’ll take Elsae to Hana’s and wait for you there. Keep her as safe as if she were you.”

Elsae left the kitchens in the wake of a handful of novices. They were tired, and honestly, so was Elsae. She’d spent most of the day watching over different groups, cracking jokes and telling stories. It helped spread around the gray cheer that seemed to follow everyone around like a stormcloud. Plus it helped keep her mind off things. She was on her way back to the rooms when the trio of novices curtsied and made their way to the tower just before the last bell chimed curfew.

She had a little extra time before the similar hour reached for Accepted. She went the long way back to the Accepted tower, keeping her gaze high for swirling cloaks and pranks afoot. She hadn’t seen Byron in ages, but she believed he would pop up just when she least expected him. And tonight she definitely did not expect to see him. Therefore, she was extra vigilant.

That was why when someone did in fact come up, Elsae was quite curious.
“Hello?” she called out. The flickering of a few torches was her only light. Otherwise, the halls were empty. A little chill pebbled her arms, which she abruptly rubbed into submission.

It was a woman warder, and she made Elsae smiled. She thought she recognized her, but when she shared her name, she realized she definitely didn’t remember hearing it before. it was such a lovely name!

“Oh,” she said when she was offered a letter. The had to channel up a little ball of light to read it by. It hovered over one shoulder as she read like a little floating buddy. Was it her or did the night feel extra dark? Maybe it was going to rain.

She didn’t so much as have to think about the request. She smiled and nodded. “That sounds like fun!” she offered to return the letter to Eleanore and let her lead the way.

The last time she’d sat at this desk, it had been to write Jai about his brother. Nythadri was quick about the task of composing a note, but her thoughts pulled in a direction she could ill afford to distract herself with. She imagined the sultry heat of evening in Bandar Eban; the shadows and splashes of coloured lights on the walls, the lingering scent of spices. Jai was probably half-way drunk somewhere in the city by now, grappling with what he believed Daryen had done. At the hunt he’d been vehemently against the treaty. She understood why, just as she also knew he would reconcile. But light she wished she was there to soothe the knots from his thoughts.

This time Nythadri made sure Elly actually read what she had written. A little doubt gnawed as she folded the paper and handed it over. She was unaccustomed to the weight of anxiety. Was it a mistake to send the gaidar? Nothing could stop the Wheel in motion, and perhaps it was better to be away sooner rather than later; pick through the debris of consequence later. Everything felt balanced so precariously, each choice barring the way of another. But Elly felt strong as a mountain in response, and the simplicity of her resolve calmed her a little. She plucked the note from Nythadri’s fingers with a sharp grin and a short bow.

The green’s halls were still unusually quiet when they returned to them, the sound of their steps echoing a hollow pattern against the stones. Only a few servants fluttered to their duties, lighting the evening lamps and securing the heavy drapes. They walked together for a time. Soon Elly’s route must diverge for the kitchens, where she said she’d last seen Elsae – hopeful she could catch the Accepted before she returned to her room, else disappeared to more mischievous endeavours. For now Nythadri was quiet in her thoughts, unusually content in the rhythm found between them. At least until she felt a preemptive shift in the warder beside her, and her attention focused to discover the man crossing their path with a devil’s grin for the intrusion.

“Good evening, gleeman.” Elly’s greeting was warm, and more familiar than Nythadri might have expected. Zahir responded with the flourish of a bow, not quite as lavish or lengthy as the one before, and the warder’s gaze followed him tip to toe with a small smirk as the patched cloak fluttered around his ankles. Upon the brief, surprised query of Nythadri’s attention to their acquaintance, there was a flash of something uncertain in the bond. But by Nythadri’s reckoning they were so far past the point of necessary discretion it was quite laughable. This morning’s carefully laid plans were little more than ash now. No one was likely to wonder at how their connection came to pass, or if they did, the curiosity would soon pale beneath the night’s likely conclusions.

It seemed Zahir had been lingering, most likely with a purpose that earned him a cool look from Nythadri for his persistence. For light’s sake, she had already dismissed him once. Maylis had put foolish notions in his head.

“You said you did not need escorting, Aes Sedai, but I did wonder if you might do me the favour instead?”

“Then you are to be disappointed in your wondering.”

Elly snickered surprised laughter for her dry response. The woman scratched her neck and shrugged at him, though her interest was still sultry. The corners of her smile were decidedly sly. “Apologies, then. It seems my Aes Sedai has spoken.”

Zahir’s eyes flickered between them with some quiet interest. It sparked something in his gaze, but he only laughed, and pressed a hand to his chest. “Wounded,” he declared, but easily gestured a sweep of his arm like permission for their leavetaking was granted. Nythadri’s look was little more than flat. The repartee of crossed words might usually have enticed a distraction, but tonight she did not have time for it.

“Enjoy the city, Zahir.”

Nythadri felt him watching still as they left. Eleanore turned a glanced back over her shoulder. “That man is delicious,” she laughed. Not quite out of earshot. Nythadri wondered if she’d winked. Light-forsaken woman.

[[Nythadri continues in The Point of No Return]]

---

Elly watched the gaggle of white-clad girls puff like little cotton clouds around her, all yawning and tired and dropping clumsy curtsies. She chuckled a little, since she imagined their days had been soft compared to her own at that age. “I’m looking for Accepted Elsae,” she said, to which one squeaked that the woman had been returning to her room in the Accepted Tower when they parted. Elly ruffled the girl’s hair despite herself; she was small and cute as a button. The trio shuffled off, giggling and bemoaning their soap-wrinkled hands and sore feet in equal measure.

She found the Accepted in question in one of the shadowed hallways, eyes tight to the rafters like she expected some mischief from above. Elly glanced up too, passing curious, but it seemed the same as any other ceiling she had paced underneath this evening.

“Hello?” The voice called out, nightblind. Elsae rubbed her arms, but a brilliant smile replaced uncertainly the moment she pieced Elly’s shape in the flickering light. The trust displayed was immense. She couldn’t hazard Elsae’s age (best not to do that with channeling women anyway) but she looked young. How the dreadlord could possibly have ascertained the things about this woman as he had, Elly could neither understand or explain. The Shadow would snap this one up in hungry jaws, and still be starving after.

Whatever the light-forsaken man wanted with her, though, Elly didn’t intend to allow it.

“Eleanore Gaidar.” She introduced herself with a short, formal bow, fist on heart. Elly nursed that small glow of pride carefully, still convinced the flame would be snuffed at a moment’s notice. For a moment her attention lingered on Nythadri, but she was only a closed ball of quiet and focus. “And you must be Accepted Elsae.” She held out the letter and watched as it was read under little bubbles of power-light. No apparent thought preceded an answer. Enthusiasm fountained like she’d offered tea and cake at a fancy place in the city, not a night-time flight on such a dire evening as this. But it was better Elsae wasn’t afraid. Though too much exuberance might make keeping an eye on her as easy as herding cats. Fortunately she looked as weary as the novices from her own day’s work.

“Sure,” Elly laughed at her notion of fun. “This way then.”

He watched the Aes Sedai and her gaidar long enough to see them diverge their paths away from one another. Curious, given how close the dour-faced warders were all traipsing like dogs to heel all evening – practically tripping over the women’s skirts and snarling at wind, even. After that he followed long enough to see the Green fall into step with an Asha’man and a servant. A channeler of saidin was not a tripwire Zahir wanted to fall foul of, and certainly not before his work here was done, which for now cooled his curiosity somewhat. The sister could wait. It was only a diversion anyway, but Zahir had sharp instincts. The gaidar had worn both her honour and her heart too much on her foolish sleeve.

He continued down, headed for the entrance hall. The Tower’s currents were frothing up under the surface, and his informants were all dithering over it. Zahir had no wish to still be here when it overspilled, and Maylis would remember the obedience and mark it in his favour. That one had been an easy ear into which to pour poison; she had never forgiven the Seanchan for taking her home, and her spark only needed a gentle blow of air to ignite into fury that spread like wildfire amongst her sisters. It was doubly pleasurable to facilitate given the bloody mouth her warder had given him on the field, and soothed some of the hissing voices clamouring for retribution every time the man entered Zahir’s orbit. Lythia had been elusive since that first meeting. It made the politicking amongst her Ajah sisters necessary, if tiresome. His reputation shone; it was not so hard to polish the gleam. But what he wanted was Lythia’s attention specifically.

As for the others; no-one seemed to know where the Yellow had gone, nor seemed much to care either – she was not, apparently, well liked. If he should need to hunt her down, it meant an easier task at least. The Brown sister, ah, well; she was a softer game, and a sweeter pleasure. The object she had been seen with was not what he sought, but the muted tremors of her fears were too enticing to pass up. The Tower was abuzz with the treaty the Aes Sedai had been barred from. Malaika was one of few who knew personally what peace and tolerance might encourage, or so Zahir blithely nudged her to consider. He could not imagine the creature she must have been with a collar around her pretty little throat.

“For your troubles, gleeman.”

He was crossing the hall towards the grand steps and cool night air when the coin sailed through the shadows. Zahir caught it from the air and flourished a bow.

“Always a pleasure to serve the White Tower,” he said.

He did not read the message until he was snaking through the streets of the Shining City. It sharpened a smile to his lips, and a low laugh in his throat.

Oh, he had work to do.