The First Age

Kasimir Nevaren spun on his heel, pulse thumping cool anger at his temples. The busy market square built up to a cacophony in his ears, fuelling that fragile temper to a climax. 

“WHAT did you say?”

Three months had passed since he’d left Ebou Dar; three long months of hitching rides that had inched him at a frustratingly slow pace towards Tar Valon. His body and blade were all he had to offer in return for those favours; muscle work, mostly, and occasionally as hired protection for those too poor to afford real mercenary help. They say all roads lead to Tar Valon and the White Tower, but it seemed everyone was going every other way but Tar Valon. Now, though - finally - he was here, and though all sensibilities told him to find an inn and bed down for the evening, lack of coin and lack of patience drove him on mercilessly.

Kaz was frustrated and tired, and he didn’t even know if the Tower would hold the answers he sought. The sooner he found the woman, the sooner this whole matter would be resolved and he could… could what? The thought of channelling women so close sent a chill through him; the vice grip of years of teaching. He thought about the invisible bonds that had held his hands rigid by his sides…

… No, don’t think about that.

Oblivious to the scruffy mess of his dark hair, to the stubble weaving across his cheeks and to the staleness of his clothes, Kasimir marched through the streets, single minded and ignorant to those around him. His brows were drawn over black eyes, his fists clenched. One foot followed the other; left, right, left, right.

Until this.

He longed for a bath, for a shave, and for some bloody sleep, and this little twerp of a man had just trodden all over his last fuse. Blood and ashes, could he not just make his way in peace? 

“I asked a question. What did you just say to me?”

“I…I said…” The man looked at him quite dumbly for a moment, rubbing his arm, and Kaz was about to turn away and ignore the whole thing. But then… “D...does Tar Valon just let any old riff-raff in nowadays?”

A crowd had gathered, apparently to watch this spectacle of the vagrant and the well-dressed man, and their presence and support appeared to lend the confidence for back-chat. Kaz frowned. Light, did the whole world outside of Altara lack any sort of manners!? You couldn’t get away with saying that to a perfect stranger in Ebou Dar. The young Ebou Dari flipped a dagger into the palm of his hand.

“That,” he said. “Is rude.”  A flick of the wrist and the dagger was pointing firmly at the man, who’s face had become very pale. Kasimir was about to offer the challenge, but apparently the sight of the bare blade did not go down so well.  The man screamed, loud and high as a woman, and before Kaz could so much as blink at the strange reaction someone had grabbed his arm and twisted it harshly behind his back.  He yelled, dagger clattering to the floor, and presently found his face pressed in the dirt.

“He bumped into that man,” someone cried above the sudden ruckus. “No apology, nothing.  And then he turned a knife on him!”

Kaz sighed. Or tried to; the knee pressed into his back made that difficult. “Malaika Sedai!” he shouted. “I came to see Malaika Sedai!” And Creator above let that be enough to save him…

[[Trista's posts written by her writer]]



Occasionally the White Tower's Gaidin would enjoy a drink at a nearby inn, and today was just such a day. They never drank enough to dull the senses, and had just left to return to their duties when the commotion drew them in. Braiden and Koir stood on the inside edge of the crowd, the younger nearly hiding his small smile while the larger, older Warder outright grinned. At this particular moment both of those smiles were threatening, but the people of Tar Valon were at least somewhat accustomed to the shadowed personalities of the Tower-trained, and were much more interested in the ruffian starting trouble.

The slender woman was Altaran, and though a child of nobility was not allowed near the Rahad she had visited the city proper often enough. Losing the Source had doused the fire that burned so hot in her countrymen, but she had felt it once, and understood his position. In the passing years her own fire had rekindled, but remained tempered by her assimilation into the culture of Tar Valon. Since she had found him first he was not in an much trouble as he might otherwise be, but she was not about to let him know. Not yet, anyway. Where would the fun in that be?


A woman. Creator help him, and an Altaran woman at that. It seemed Kaz could flee half way round the world, and still there was an Altaran woman at the end of it. Was he allowed no damned luck. Not even the smallest bit? (well, she did sound pretty, but that was really beside the point. Pretty women were the most dangerous anyhow, especially Altaran ones. And especially when they had you face down in the dirt).

"I wasn't aware the Tower was in the habit of turning people away. Even 'rif-raff'-" he tried to angle his head to glare at the city-man, but couldn't tilt his eyes far enough "- you know, with them being servants of all and everything." Kaz wriggled but it really did him little and less good. First accused of being a Seanchan spy, and now this? Light above but the Creator was having a marvellous joke at his expense. "I didn't mean any harm, I swear it. Just a duel to settle a disagreement. A matter of honour. He could've nominated another in his stead if he was that scared, you know that. What kind of man screams like that, anyway? Are you going to get off or what?"


"That," her weight, slight as it was, pressed down on him just a little heavier, "is not what I asked you." The pressure was not meant to cause him more pain, just threaten it. In her peripherals, Braiden could no longer contain his smile and had resorted to scratching at a beard he did not have to hide it. Koir chuckled from deep in his throat, the heavy sound drawing the eyes of onlookers. As his quiet but powerful laughter subsided he leaned over to Brai, mumbling "Aye, he screamed like a lass!" The words were just loud enough for the lordling to overhear, but as quickly as his gaze snapped to the tree of a Warder (whose words had renewed his own laughter) they jerked away. Koir was not the tallest of men, but he was wide as an ox with not an ounce of it fat. The nobleman had earned Kasimir's scorn, and was not about to risk the same with the big Gaidin.

Trista flowed upwards, grabbing the back of the boy's shirt with her free hand and pulling him to his feet as she did. "Luckily, I know exactly what you mean," she said, releasing his arm while simultaneously spinning him to face her. "And I can take you to see the Brown sister, Malaika," Trista did not know the names of all the sisters, but the few of Seanchan decent were easily recognizable. Especially considering the scarcity of most such sisters; though Malaika was rarely on the training fields, Trista had seen her in the Tower proper (especially the library) more than she had ever seen Kaiya's Aes Sedai, and years had passed since she'd seen Lianora Sedai.

"That is," she offered with a wry smile that did not touch her eyes, "unless you're still looking to duel?" Her expression and the flicker of steel suddenly protruding from her hand said that he would not be facing the nobleman, were that the case.


He didn't expect her to take kindly to his words and the pressure on his spine confirmed as much. Still, vagrant or no (and despite his urchin appearance, he was not a vagrant) his business was his own. Leave it to an Altaran woman to be so nosy, but she wasn't going to get anything else out of him. Just as well that she decided to release him, and while he would beat the lithe woman in a contest of strength, the speed with which he suddenly found himself on his feet and facing her was really quite admirable. A roguish smile tilted half his mouth; he was sure of himself even in the most precarious of situations (and this did not even come close to the fiasco of Arad Doman!), even if half of it was bluff. She had agreed to take him and that was good enough for him, even with the smarting of his back and arm where she had twisted it. He could care less that he had been beaten by a woman even in front of all the spectators - growing up in Ebou Dar with his mother and sisters did a great deal for humility. On that front at least.

His eyes darted about the strange gathering - a force of protective habit - before settling on the violet stare of the woman who'd pinned him, and he dusted down his front, realising perhaps for the first time the dire state of his clothes. To the offer of a duel, he shook his head. "Look at me, wasting away and not an hour's sleep in days. It really wouldn't be a fair match, and there's been no insult besides. Have to give these lot a show another time." He'd recovered enough by now to chance a wink, then he pressed his foot down on the hilt of his fallen dagger, flipped the blade up and as soon as that it had disappeared (though he didn't doubt he could have been stopped if the woman really had thought him a threat). "No harm done, eh?" he added for good measure, mocking a salute in the direction of the lordling, who took the opportunity to scuttle off - one does not argue with the law of the Tower, after all, and unbeknownst to Kasimir, these three cloaked warriors were as good as.

Trista's eyes watched him without further hint of her thoughts, but it was now that the pair who had "adopted" her stepped forward. Braiden's smile had faded, and he was clearly unimpressed by the young Altaran's display. Koir, however, walked up and clapped the man on the shoulder with a smile. The blow was probably enough to knock the wind out of the smaller man, but the big Gaidin's smile said that it was well-meant. "Good show, lad! Nobleman, eh? Took me years to beat the pomp out of this one," he gestured at Brai with a hand the size of a dinner plate, "but he turned out well enough." The younger Gaidin gave a poor imitation of a smile and half rolled his eyes, but the expression quickly dissolved into a genuine grin.

The trio set off for the Tower with the newcomer in tow. Koir was a friendly man, for all he was a giant, and he happily informed the foreigner of the sites that needed to be seen before the man left (assuming he intended to leave). As they passed one inn that Koir was particularly fond of, the big Gaidin put his arm around the smaller man's shoulders and leaned in. "That inn has some of the finest ale to be had. And the inkeeper!" He thrust his free hand upwards, unintentionally crushing the other man between his thick arm and stone-built body. "A flower in the Waste, my boy! A flower in the Waste." He looked down, realizing what he was doing and releasing Kasimir. "Sorry lad, I get a little enthusiastic about Miss Merranda. She truly is a beaut, lad. Don't get any ideas though, 'cause if you lay hands on her I might have to break them off," his face dropped abruptly into a very serious expression. Just as abruptly he laughed then, landing another unintentionally hard smack on the man's back, "I'm just kidding, boy, my Aes Sedai be the only woman I do be breaking hands for." His Illianer accent was nearly gone after so long it the Tower, but it still snuck through at times.

Reaching the stairs that led into the Tower proper, Trista turned to face the other Altaran. "I'm afraid you can't enter the Tower armed," she said, and waited for him to either present his weapons or leave.


Kasimir staggered under the first blow, blinked, and abruptly laughed when he realised the friendly intention of it. Light the ox-like man had a swing on him! He was infinitely relieved it had been the woman who'd pinned him, else he might not have had much of a ribcage left. The praise was misplaced - he had ended up face down on the floor - but Kaz laughed along anyway and accepted the apparent friendship. It was much better that being arrested and sent to some cell. He'd seen enough of the inside of one of them to last him a life-time.

"Kasimir," he offered, but neglected his surname on the slight chance the Altaran would recognise it. He really didn't want to be adding half Seanchan to his list of crimes, no matter that the Tower seemed tolerant of such things (them having raised at least one Seanchan Aes Sedai and all).

When they passed the inn, Kaz tilted his head to catch the sign swinging over the door for future reference and struggled to breathe. Light, light, light, light, LIGHT! He waved the apology away, even though that time it felt as though he had cracked a few ribs. Creator above, if the man could do that to those he didn't think of as threats! The smack on the back launched him forward a few steps, and when he regained his balance he held up both his hands. "Perfect gentleman, me," he said, perfectly seriously.

Upon reaching the base of the Tower's steps, Kaz looked at the woman a moment, as though suspecting that rule might be made up, but presently shrugged and decided to show willing. With a flash the single dagger had returned and he offered it out hilt first. "That's all," he told her, then grinned. "You can frisk me if you like." He laughed and spread his arms but suspected that if anyone did the checking it would be one of the men; she didn't look the type to find Kaz's cheeky humour amusing, but it never stopped him trying.


She took the dagger and then thoroughly (and perhaps a little more roughly than was necessary) took him up on his offer. Frisking wasn't something everyone entering the Tower had to go through, but he had offered. Trista wasn't actually certain it was law that you not enter the Tower armed, but it was considered highly direspectful. With Aes Sedai, it was safest to assume tradition was law. Even having been out in the city, none of the three Warders were openly armed. Of course, each was a weapon in themselves, steel or no.

The Gaidar gave his dagger and anything else she had seen fit to remove from him to a girl wearing the banded hem inside the massive entrance hall. She also gave the girl instructions to have a guest room readied, where he could either remain or simply procure his materials after his visit.

---

Despite her booted feet, Trista's path through the Brown Halls was audibly marked by no more than a whisper. Her long, quick strides flowed with the deadly grace all Warders possessed, daring the foreign man behind her to try and get away with something untoward. There was no animosity in her presence, but also no tolerance. He may have been her countryman, once, but she belonged to the Tower now, and felt no special connection to the ruffled young man.

The Brown Halls were as pristine as any other; kept in order by the head Brown servant Driella regardless of the sisters' often dreamy demeanors. Once inside the Tower, Koir and Braiden had left them to return to their respective Aes Sedai, and Trista was not vocal company. Aside from the occasional passing of a pair of sisters locked in debate or discussion, the hall was silent.

Arriving at the door baring a golden plate marked Malaika Sedai, Trista halted, and spoke back over her shoulder to the boy, "You will bow to the Aes Sedai, and be respectful." He likely did not need to be told, but Trista would not be responsible for the child's discrepancies. Light forbid he wink at a sister. She raised her and and knocked, firmly enough to be heard but never demanding.

The young sister had spread the papers and books pertaining to her current project across the arrangement of plush sofas and chairs centring across from a fireplace. With nowhere left to sit, Malaika was curled on the floor, hunched over an equally cluttered table scribbing shorthand notes as quickly as her left hand could cope. It was a training exercise as much as anything; her right hand, for all that it had healed, was stiff and clumsy, and she did not like to rely on the Power for something so basic as writing. A servant had left refreshments some time earlier, but with no room to place them close at hand had left them elsewhere. The smell of fresh food had long since faded, and Malaika could not recall where the tray was, or indeed even remembered that there was one.

The Brown Ajah servants looked after her well. Whether it was knowledge of her past or something she projected through her soft-spoken manner, others tended to look upon her as something fragile; something that needed looking after. It was true that of late, and particularly in the months since she had returned to the Tower, Malaika had been rather swallowed by her studies; had let them swallow her, in fact, and more often than not she forgot meal times until her belly protested, or fell asleep at a desk or with book in hand in a chair. Adira had mentioned more than once the option of hiring a personal maid (and had exclaimed that perhaps a Warder was better suited when she'd discovered the new scars on Malaika's hand) but the young Brown waved away the concern. Her apartments were messy but clean; paper, parchment and books covered every surface, but there was no dust, no dirt, and no cobwebs; she had no need for a personal servant. Malaika was happy with her chaos, and with her solitude.

The knock, though heard the first time somewhere in her conscious, did not register until several moments after. By then the young brown frowned and wondered if she was hearing things, but extricated herself from the delicate chaos of her work space regardless, careful not to upset the balance of piled paper or ruffle the pages of splayed books. She was dressed plainly today in pale gold, unadorned but for the pendant gifted to her by Brenna Sedai. Her hair was long and loose, pushed in a silken cascade over one shoulder to keep it under control while reading. An unassuming figure, for all that she was Aes Sedai, but she was not expecting visitors nor had plans to leave her rooms today.

The door opened smoothly. She half expected to find no one there, either because the knock had been her imagination or her visitor had gotten bored waiting. Any surprise at what she did find was wrapped away comfortably by a serene mask. And it was a surprise. One of the Tower's elite had been at the very bottom of her list of imagined potential callers, along with the Dragon himself. It was a rare occasion that Malaika ever visited the training fields, and even then it was strictly for research purposes. She had no acquaintances among the warrior ranks and could think of no reason one would have to knock upon her door.

"Gaidar," she greeted. Then her eyes slid to the other figure, and paused. It was admirable, really, that she managed to keep that shock from cracking through. She'd never have thought to see his face again; had fought hard to put what had happened behind her. Malaika's lips thinned, and then the calm returned.



And Kasimir did bow; an over-done flourish of a thing that was more for the benefit of the warrior woman than the Aes Sedai. His grin was casual and unphased in a passing glance, but more than half of his cocky act was simply bravardo. He had no idea what he was doing; his plans had only ever gone so far as to find the woman Malaika. And after that? Well... he had no clue. His heart beat in triple time when the door had opened, and double again when he recognised the face of the woman behind it. For her part the Seanchan's face was still, but she was Aes Sedai. What was the worst that could happen to him? Still, he opted against saying anything, sure that whatever he would say would be wrong.



She had had her doubts as to whether or not he would recognise her features, so briefly had they been revealed that night, but it appeared he did. The boy ... Kasimir? ... grinned like a fool and his bow was a mockery, if not intentionally so. Malaika had never been one at ease with the bowing and scraping some afforded those titled Aes Sedai, and she remembered enough of this one to know not to pander to his antics. Instead she ignored him. As quickly as her gaze had settled on the Ebou Dari, it returned to the Gaidar. "Is he in trouble, gaidar?" She had little doubt that he had done something untoward to earn his violet-eyed escort, but was more concerned as to why he had sought her out and not Eithne. She knew the answer to that, of course, and it was disquieting. Why? Revenge for what she had done to his father? There had been no love lost in that relationship, but still...



Trista bowed when the Aes Sedai opened the door; a modest motion, lacking the elaborations the younger man added, but it was efficient and (most importantly) respectful. Upon straightening her eyes flickered from the Aes Sedai to the unkempt boy at her back, but only once, and only to ensure he was not being obnoxious.

"There was a misunderstanding in the streets, but he committed no crime," anyone raised outside of Altara might have considered assaulting a lordling with a knife more than a minor discretion, but in the way only an Ebou Dari could, she understood. He had meant no harm. "He asked to see you. If you want, I can remain while you speak with him." Assuming, of course, she wanted to speak with him.



Kasimir was working extremely hard to hold his tongue, a feat that did not exactly come naturally to the young Altaran, but he did not wish to ruin his chance with a flippant comment that neither woman had the sense to see with a dash of humour. He could be polite when he wanted, if he wanted, and for all his foolery the .. ah... fiasco in Tar Valon had certainly made it clear to him that he was not in Ebou Dar and should watch his words and actions closely. A chance was all he asked. At least the woman, the gaidar, had not dropped him in it. For all her black emotionlessness (which he attributed to working so closely with witc--with Aes Sedai), at least she retained enough of her Altaran heritage to realise he really had meant no offence or harm with his challenge to the lordling. The opposite, in fact.

To Malaika Sedai he held up his palms to show them empty. "I just have some questions," he said, and smiled in a way he hoped did not appear insincere. If she refused him now he was at a loss. He could not return home without answers, and he had no desire to stay here in a city of cowards and strange customs.



A misunderstanding... Malaika did not frown, but she felt like it; she had the feeling Kasimir had been very lucky today, and likely had the Altaran woman to thank for it. The streets of Tar Valon were not kind to criminals, or tolerant of those who tried to push the boundaries of acceptable behaviour. She wasn't under any obligation to speak with him, of course; if he truly needed the assistance of the Tower there were other sisters he could seek aid from. Not to mentioned that the trouble his presence would bring to her was wholly unwanted. The Tower is your family now, Eithne had reminded her, and she had no intention of betraying her Ajah's trust. Her loyalties did and always would lay with the Tower.

But, she admitted, there was a curiosity now that the initial surprise had subsided. The last time she had succumb to curiosity it had cost her, but then she had acted rashly; had not considered the consequences. This situation was different.

The Aes Sedai looked at the scruffy man, considering, and did not speak for a time. She had not thought on her brother since her return, except during the discussions she had had with Eithne and a few other sisters, but the melancholy of his reaction to her had never really left. Though she would never disgrace her ajah in such a way again (and it was a disgrace, at least in her eyes) she still harboured some foolish hope in her heart; that perhaps after time to contemplate he would forgive her for what she was. Or at least accept. A fruitless hope; idealistic and naive, but there none-the-less in the back of her mind.

"I just have some questions."

Under the scrutiny of her gaze he smiled, a youthfully bright smile, if a little unsure. Naive. Abruptly Malaika recalled the tears that had wet his cheeks in protest of his innocence; the way pressure had cracked him. He's just a boy. And his words echoed her own that night. She empathised with that need, if she did not honestly know what it was he sought from her. Chakai was the only link between them, but the Chakai that was Kasimir's father was not the Chakai that had been her brother all those years ago. They were related in nothing but blood now.

"Kasimir Nevaren. I know him," she answered eventually, speaking his name if only to put the gaidar's mind at rest; to assure that she did know this stranger who caused trouble on the streets and earned a gaidar escort. Oh Light. Though the offered protection was appreciated and might have been sensible to accept, Malaika had long since vowed to be the one to protect herself. "There is no need to stay. I am sure you have other duties. Thank you, gaidar." There was a gentle emphasis on the last; gratitude for the discretion of bringing the young man here, rather than to the cells. Someone should thank the woman.

The young Brown held open the door then, for Kasimir to pass. Her work was strewn about within the room, but it was nothing sensitive or irreplaceable else she would have taken the meeting elsewhere, and indeed not been conducting it in her sitting room in the first place. The paper covered almost every free surface and there was nowhere left to sit; the young man would simply have to stand.


No one questioned the choices of Aes Sedai, and Trista was not about to start. The only evidence of hesitation was the slightest flicker of her wine-dark eyes to the left, as if she wanted to check on the other Altaran once more. She did not need to, necessarily; the Tower trained did not need to visually assess a person to know every move they made standing in such close proximity.

If the Aes Sedai wanted to be alone with the young Altaran, so be it. She took the dismissal with another fluid bow, her mouth turning up in the barest of smile's at the Brown's thanks. A poor attempt at appreciation, but it was there, and it was better than most received from the Gaidar. The expression was for the Aes Sedai only; after all, her duty was to serve them, and she would do it regardless of acknowledgement.

"As you wish, Aes Sedai," there was no judgement in her voice, merely the same monotonous acquiescence. Pivoting on one booted heel, her eyes met the boy's own one last time. There was no expression in them; rather, the sheer vapidity in the shallow pools was a warning all its own. If he laid one of his dirty fingers on the Aes Sedai without a bloody good reason, and she found out - which she would - he would be answering to her personally.

And then, she was gone.

She'd agreed. The relief Kasimir felt was palpable, but he held himself together, especially while the Altaran woman was there. What a waste of a pretty face that one was, with her vapid gaze and humourless expression. Kasimir kept his focus away from her, instead watching the Seanchan Aes Sedai; in all truth, she didn't look best pleased despite her words, though maybe that was just because she didn't seem to show a whole lot of emotion at all. He'd promised his intentions were innocent so he couldn't see where the problem lie. Unless it was to do with the way his father had acted; Kaz's gaze drew down to her right hand, but the palm faced away. Witches could heal as well as Ebou Dari Wise Woman, or so he'd heard, so he was confidant that the wound had healed fine.

“She didn’t like me at all,” Kaz said once the violet-eyed woman had disappeared, and thank the Light for it too. The look she had given him, like he was some worthless, petty criminal! Why was it that everyone seemed to think that of him? The trouble in Arad Doman had been entirely not of his fault - it wasn't like he could change his face - and if the citizens of Tar Valon, or wherever that lordling had hailed from, balked at the sight of the smallest blade then what would they do in the face of Tarmon Gaidon? He'd actually probably done the man a favour. But nope, no one could see that side of the coin.

He stepped through the open doorway, and drew his gaze curiously around the room. Books and junk littered everywhere, even the chairs, and more books than he supposed one could read in a life time were stacked in multiple shelves. So she liked books. He'd never thought that witches might like to read. Aes Sedai Light, Aes Sedai. He had to start remembering to think that, just in case one of them could read minds. But anyway, reading was such an ordinary pursuit, that for a moment in made her seem almost human.

"Nice place," he said. "This whole place, the Tower I mean. It's huge."


Malaika felt somewhat guilty for sending the gaidar away, despite that she’d showed no particular reaction to the dismissal. Even after a year and a half to the shawl, she was still getting used to having the power to do that. Still, there were more immediate things to think of now, and even as the gaidar retreated from sight Malaika's thoughts sped on. She did not dignify Kasimir's comment with a response, nor enquire exactly what misdemeanour the gaidar had spoken about. She could find that out later and by other means if she wished, but for now the young Aes Sedai needed the time to think, not to partake in pointless banter.

When the door closed, Malaika allowed herself to frown. She watched as Kasimir paced, and used his own moment of indecision to recount her own thoughts. Another test? Even Eithne could not spin a web this delicate, could she? For a moment Malaika wondered whether she should turn him away; forget this ordeal and place it firmly in the past. She knew even as she thought it that she couldn't, though; not for any rebellious reasons, but simply for the sake of herself. Her mistake had not been to confront Chakai, but to rush in blindly. And with false hope besides. This situation was different; he had sought her out. The meeting was on her terms.

He appeared travel-worn and tired; clearly he had not seen a shaving blade or bath water in a while, and though he quipped much as he had done in the Domani cells, it did not look to have been an easy journey, or pleasant. Though slightly irked with the trouble he had caused in Tar Valon, as though it were somehow her responsibility, she could not on conscience make him stand. She was a servant of all, and though his father was her brother, he was in essence but another petitioner come to the Tower. Making him stand was something Chakai would have done, and she relented to clearing a bit of space.


"I can help with that." He made to move forward, but she raised a hand to ward him back. Her right hand. It was not a pretty a scar as he had hoped; most Ebou Dari knife duellers cut cleanly, for a thin white scar was a masterful thing and the sign of a skilled opponent. But his father, for all that he had taken to the Ebou Dari custom of knife-wielding, was still Seanchan. And Kaz had witnessed that tussle; it had been anything but clean. An unfair duel of knife versus hand.

The sight sat uneasily and tightened a knot in his stomach. He could've prevented it; he'd seen his father's hand twitch towards his blade long before she had. But he hadn't, and now her hand was scarred.

"You can help by telling me why you are here, Kasimir Nevaren."

Her voice didn't carry the same accent as his father's. Hers was smoother, more western, and the slur only carried faintly on certain words. She must have been here a long time. His young face darkened to something more serious at the words. He'd hoped what he wanted to say would come naturally, but now he was here the words were still stilted. For a while he was silent, watching her arrange the sheets of parchment in neat piles on the table. He raked his fingers back though his dishevelled hair.

"I was there. That night. But I didn't hear everything. Just snippets. And-" he stalled as she finished, straightened, and indicated that he sit. She took a seat opposite, her clear gaze fixed on him over the piles of paper. There was something gentle and cautious about her, for all that she was Aes Sedai. She simply didn't look dangerous in the way he had been taught to believe. He wasn't about to underestimate her, but it suddenly seemed like his whole belief system was caving in. He sat on the couch with a thud, and rested his head in his hands.

"Who are you? And why do you scare my father so?"


After a moment of stuttering, he appeared to come straight to the matter. For that Malaika was almost thankful; she was not sure she had the patience to beat around the bush with him or second guess hidden meanings behind the jokes and expressions. Still, she didn't answer right away. That was normal for the young Brown, if he would not know it. For the first time in months her thoughts trailed back to Ebou Dar, and rather unconsciously she cradled her right hand in her lap.

"I am a ghost." It was an apt way of putting it, but she knew he would not be satisfied with that answer. She watched him curiously, his face hidden in his filthy hands, and did not need to see his expression to realise how tightly these questions gripped his heart - and in a way more significant than she could fathom in the limited way she knew him. It wouldn't have surprised her to learn that he had asked Chakai the very same thing, only to be met with a wall of silence. She had observed the curiousness of their relationship in Ebou Dar. And apparently the tangle of that relationship had been enough for him to travel all the way here to find her. Despite it all, it softened her heart somewhat. He looked so wretched sitting there, but she didn’t know what to do to help other than answer his question. The company she kept did not often extend beyond her sisters, and there the relationship bordered on formal most of the time. She had little experience of intimacy, or comfort, and she had been closeted from men most of her life. So she wrapped herself in her Aes Sedai masks, and answered his questions with more openness than she had originally intended.

“Chakai is my brother, Kasimir."



In the silence before she answered, Kasimir suddenly realised he was battling back tears. Tears! Light, get a hold of yourself! The flood of emotion seemed to come from nowhere, and it could bloody well go back there for all he cared; he would not let his father do this to him. Not now, not ever. For a split second he considered standing, making his excuses and apologies, and leaving. Where? He had no clue, but suddenly this whole thing seemed like a foolish notion. Why did he need to know about his father? Or even care? The man was nothing but a bane, and now he was clear of Ebou Dar and his family he could be anything, go anywhere. Except Arad Doman, of course. But still, the world was open to him. He could forget all this.

But all he did was raise his head, rest his chin in his fists, and listen silently. He felt strangely sober.


"Your father must have told you something of our culture. I am an abomination. A marath'damane." She paused over the word and supressed a shiver; she had not spoken it in so long, not since she had believed it to be true. Otherwise her soft voice was matter-of-fact, the emotion of the events long since detatched. "And so, in my thirteenth year, I was taken away from my family and leashed. A great dishonour for my family, to lose a daughter. And a hard thing for a brother to accept." She reflected on that a moment, until her thoughts were scattered by the sound of Kasimir's voice.

"Then that's why he said he had no sister."

Malaika's gaze snapped back to him and she nodded. He also said he had no family, a voice reminded her. That had bothered her, niggled away in the back of her mind, but she could not understand why, if it even had any significance beyond the hurt of having been disowned by one's own flesh and blood.

"And that is where any relation with my family, and Chakai, ends. As you can see, things changed for me. But as far as your father is concerned I should be damane - was, for all he knew. I imagined that is why my presence...scared him." It was only now she noticed the odd choice of words. Chakai had not seemed fearful to her that night, and she wondered why Kasimir might have thought so. A spasm of discomfort fired through her fingers, and that alone stayed her tongue. It matter not, she reminded herself. The answer would make no difference to her.


Kasimir's eyes drifted to the floor, digesting all the Aes Sedai had said. She had confirmed his suspicions, and he supposed it explained his father's behaviour towards her. And yet there was something missing - something unsatisfying with that answer on its own. Whatever it was, though, the Aes Sedai clearly didn't know the answer. Kasimir's dark eyes closed. Creator above he felt drained.

"Would you tell me about him?" His eyes flicked up; he was unwilling to relinquish this connection to his father. He had nowhere to go. "How he used to be, I mean." He flickered a smile, half hidden behind his hands, and tried to work some charm, but there was nothing behind it. The Aes Sedai's face was impassive, and for a moment he thought she would deny his request; kick him out like his father had. Maybe he'd even be exiled from Tar Valon, too. But presently a small smile lifted the corners of her lips. Indistinct as it was, it warmed her face and lit something nostalgic in her eyes. Dark, like his father's, but so very different from the hard, cruel depths he was used to.


"My memories from that time are... hazy. I'm not sure how much I could tell you that you wouldn't already know." She might've left it at that, but already old memories, old feelings surfaced. She did not often allow herself the key to that particular door. Even the most innocuous of pleasant memories could trigger a volley of horrific ones, so it was simpler to push them all back.

"Chakai loved the beasts of Seanchan. He was morat'torm and away much of the time." Clearly his injured leg had ended that career, she thought somewhat sadly. But her brother had always taken risks. Not a season had passed by when he had not returned home from duty with more scars to parade. It was how she remembered him, puckered with bites and scratches; rough skin, bandages. But always smiling. The smile was what she remembered most. Telling that to Kasimir, though, seemed pointless. Chakai had soured and she did not wish to worsen his wounds with salt.

"Does your family know where you are, Kasimir?"

He shook his head. "Father asked me to leave, and I did. Three, four months ago now. He's lost all right to know where I am."

"And your mother?"

He frowned, sighed, and ran his hands over his head. Exhausted, that was clear, and she wasn't even sure she had helped ease whatever worries were on his mind. She stood.

"Why did you come back, Malaika?"

The question caught her off guard. She met his black gaze and barely thought before she answered. "Because you never stop loving your family, Kasimir." It was true else she would not have been able to say it, but his gaze turned away, resentful as a petulant child, and she sighed. "You need rest. And a clean up. You'll stay here for now, until I decide what to do with you." The last sounded more confident than she felt. She was not best pleased with the prospect of sharing her apartments, no matter the short time, but she couldn't very well chance him making a nuisance of himself on Tower grounds.

By the time bath water and fresh clothes had arrived, Kasimir had fallen asleep in his chair.  Malaika directed the servants amidst the sound of soft snores; she didn’t have the heart to wake him, and besides, she preferred that the servants did not overhear anything he had to say. Not until she had decided what to do about his presence, anyhow, or at least found out what his intentions were now he had asked his questions. She was not sure which she minded more; that the servants assumed she entertained men in her rooms (especially those as scruffy as he) or if they should know that she was related to such a vagrant. An Aes Sedai’s business was her own, but her reputation rested in the hands of others.  She was not sure why it bothered her so much, but it was a relief when her doors finally closed. The water had been filled in a tub in an adjacent room, but Malaika decided to let Kasimir sleep; she could reheat the water later, and for now she was glad to have a moment’s respite from the strange events of the day.

Her work was still laid out on the table, but she lacked the concentration to return to it now. Whatever momentum she gained would only be stalled once again when her guest awoke. For a moment she watched him sleep, and thought of Chakai, and but she did not wish to fall into those memories again. In the end, she pulled a thin volume from one of the shelves against the wall and settled into an armchair. It was a collection of regional tales; the sort that hardly ever got written down, but had been collected as a labour of love by her ajah sister, Adira. It was something of a fascination for the Brown, and one that Malaika shared to a lesser degree.  Many she read for the first time, since the tales of Seanchan varied greatly from those on the continent.


He awoke and wondered where he was. The first thing he saw was the Aes Sedai, curled in an armchair like a child with a book spread out on her lap, and then he remembered where he was. For a second he wished he’d woken on a doorstep with a broom in his ribs. Blood and ashes, how did I manage to fall asleep? He did not exactly hold much faith in the White Tower and its denizens; he must’ve been more exhausted than he’d even realised. Light! Malaika’s head did not move, but her eyes flicked up from the pages as he sat forward, rubbing his face. Rest had done nothing to clear his senses, only serve to remind him that he was tired.

“A bath is ready,” she said. “Through here.”

She led him into a room decorated in the same mish-mash of style and furniture as the first, but the bath tub at its centre was what drew his attention. The water appeared stone cold at first glance, but then heat rippled the surface. He glanced back at Malaika, but she was already closing the door behind her. He couldn’t be bothered to care whether she had used the power, and set about stripping his clothes. An impromptu nap really had seemed to do nothing but befuddle his mind further; he could quite happily sleep from now through to next morning.

The water was a little scalding, but he slipped into it gratefully. Hands hanging either side of the tub, he sank into the warmth all the way up to his chin. Thoughts ran hazily through his mind. His father, mostly; flickering memories of the night he had watched him speak with the Seanchan Aes Sedai. And their last conversation. Neither thought nor memory stayed long enough to make sense of; rather they raced a mile a minute, carving an ache into his temples that even the roiling stream of the bath could not remedy. Kaz submerged his whole head and wished he hadn’t bothered to wake up.


Malaika returned to her book while she waited for him, but by now her mind only managed to dip briefly back and forth between the pages. After reading a passage three times and still finding herself none the wiser to its content, she finally relented to putting the book to one side.  She was not sure she was comfortable with him staying at the Tower, but equally knew that she could not force him to leave.  Perhaps her reasons were even selfish. That was not a pleasant thought, but she did not shy away from it. Is it selfish?  He reminded her so vividly of her confrontation with Chakai, of her own failings. For all his rakish behaviour Kasimir had done nothing to her; in fact, she had barged into his life, and while there had clearly been seeds of discontent planted long before her arrival, she had been the catalyst.  She had caused this chain of events the moment she had returned to the Nevaren household, and this was but one more repercussion of her own actions.

The door opened and Kasimir immerged, a towel in his grasp, mouth opened to speak.

“Light!” Malaika whipped the book out in front of her and averted her eyes. “There are clothes in there.”

“Oh.” He ran his free hand over his damp hair and yawned. “Okay.  Thanks.”

As he turned back into the room, swinging the door shut behind him, she slammed the book back on to the armrest. Blood and ashes, that was a view she could have done without. Mannerless idiot. Her thoughts had all scattered, and some of the irritation had returned.  She didn’t need this complication in her life, nor the distraction from her studies. Yet she felt responsible for his predicament. Chakai made him leave, she recalled him saying bitterly. Perhaps she might work towards a reconciliation, but she was afraid to interfere again. Her priorities were the Tower, her Ajah... Light, she was no Blue. Whatever Kasimir had done to get himself banished from his own family home, it was none of her concern.

Except suddenly she remembered, all too vividly, her own banishment. Idly, she stroked at her neck, where the collar had once pinched at her skin. It's hardly the same thing...

When she looked up again, he was loitering in the doorway.  Clothed, this time, she was pleased to see.  Beneath tendrils of damp hair he still looked immeasurably tired, though at least now he was clean-shaven and fresh. The clothes the servants had procured were plain and fit well enough, though Kasimir had neglected the buttons on the cuffs of the shirt. He smiled at her; a rather half-hearted effort, but for that brief moment looked so like Chakai that it startled her.

“You should get some proper rest.”

“That woman--”

“Gaidar,” she corrected. He nodded.

“Yeah… gaidar, right. She arranged accommodation for me. I won’t be a burden anymore than I have to be.”

He was a burden, and yet she felt somewhat guilty that he should call himself that.  She might have offered him space in her own apartments, just until he was well rested, but she was somewhat relieved to see he had no desire to stay. Rather than reassuring him, she nodded. Though she had her own questions - she still didn’t fully understand what had driven him here - they could wait.  If he should run, she could live with that. The Tower is my family… 

“Very well…” Malaika hesitated, then stood from her chair.  She would need to speak with Eithne. “But we’ll speak again tomorrow, Kasimir.”

He nodded and she followed him to the door.  Her pale hand paused on the handle, and she glanced up at him. Looking at him now, even though his eyes were dark as onyx, she couldn't see how she'd ever missed his resemblance to her brother. Even his confident, carefree mannerisms were the same; the way he smiled when there was nothing funny, or quipped when it was entirely inappropriate. As charming as that might be in Ebou Dar, it would do him no favours among the sisters.

“Rules,” she said firmly. “Be respectful to all you meet. Don’t take any chances, and do not start any trouble. You’ll not get away with using my name to save yourself a second time.”

He laughed despite her seriousness. “Me?”

“Kasimir…”

“Of course.” He dipped a bow, hand over his heart, but when he rose again he was grinning from ear to ear.  “Auntie.” 

The word took her aback, and this time she was sure if showed through her expression, if only in the slight widening of her eyes. It was obvious, of course; his father was her brother. Kasimir was her nephew. And yet she had not thought about it in those terms before. Auntie. She was not accustom to terms of endearment; not many were ever so familiar with her. Light. The blood family she coveted was staring her right in the face, grinning like a light forsaken idiot. And Creator above he looked so like Chakai just now; so much that her stomach flipped.

“You mustn’t call me that,” she murmured. “Not in public.”

“Of course,“ he said again, and winked; a gesture she choose to ignore as she twisted the handle and opened the door into the hallway.

It was something of a shock to return from lessons with Dayanne Sedai on the art of Travelling the next day to find one Kasimir Nevaren sprawled out on her sofa. She had never gotten into the practice of locking her door - the idea of property was still raw and new to her - and apart from servants she didn't usually have visitors... and certainly not ones who let themselves in. Quelling any concerns over this impromptu visitor - what, the Light forbid, if it had been someone who meant her harm? - she let the door close behind her with a little more force than normal.

The noise did its job.

Startled from his relaxed posture, Kasimir made some effort to look more polite - he took his feet off the table and her paperwork, at least, and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd mind, Aes Sedai, being fami--"

She waved her hand, slipping a wool shawl of cream and gold (not her ajah one) onto the back of a chair. He shut his mouth quite promptly, but regarded her with black, intent eyes as though she were a viper that might strike at any moment. Truthfully, she was surprised he had come back all, for when she had seen him off yesterday with instructions that they would speak again, she had half expected him to disappear and never return. Or at least be late.

"There could have been wards on the door. You might have been hurt," she said, settling in to her favourite chair by the hearth. The words had more impact than she'd intended, because he went quite pale at the thought. He fears channelers she reminded herself. And yet he was still here.

"I ..."

Kasimir scrubbed a hand through his hair. He still looked tired after a night's rest, but then he had been travelling the road for weeks, and with a head full of burdens to fret over. Malaika softened. No harm had been done after all. Rather that he had barged into her rooms than that of another sister's - and while he was here, at least he wasn't causing trouble elsewhere. After her talk with Eithne the previous evening, she had unearthed a little of why Kasimir had earned himself a gaidar escort to her rooms...

"Have you eaten? I don't suppose you've had time to acquaint yourself with the layout of the Tower yet..."

---

Once the food had arrived, Malaika realised that she was actually quite ravenous. She never intentionally skipped meals, but more often than not she was too wrapped up in her work to notice the needs of her body. When was the last time she had sat down for such good, hearty fare as this? Kasimir looked no less sincere in his appetite, so it was a while before either of them spoke.

Eventually, Malaika placed her empty soup bowl to the side, brushing a few of the crumbs scattered on her skirt. She'd thought a long time of what she intended to say, but was still unsure. In all her years, she had never felt responsible for another person, as she did now. A nephew. Light above, of all the complications. "If you plan to stay," she said, catching Kas' eye as she lifted a glass of water to her lips, "then the only thing I insist on is that you write your parents."

She had expected the way his expression grew suddenly solemn; a childish, sullen anger that could only be reaction to the thought of his father. "And where exactly would I even go? I won't go back there, and don't have so much as a copper bloody penny to my name." Abandoning his empty plate, he sat back and folded his arms. The muscles worked in his jaw, grinding his teeth, and his black eyes fell away from hers.

How can such a rift ever be fixed? Malaika supressed the urge to sigh, and reminded herself once more not to get involved; she would only complicate matters, and effort would only be a waste of precious time.

"I receive a monthly stipend. I would give you coin enough for your travels. But I will still write your parents, Kasimir," she warned. "They have a right to know where you are, that you are safe." That much she could do, though she doubted news that their son had come to Tar Valon would ease her removed family's mind.

Kasimir didn't speak, only glared down at his empty plate. Am I missing something? Malaika pursed her lips, and wondered why people had to be so ... difficult. I offer him passage to anywhere in the world, and he still sits there and sulks? He made no attempt to mask the emotions that flooded him, but she found that it only made him harder to understand. Light, I don't have the skill for this.

She stood, and his gaze snapped up. His expression was not so much anger as... worry? Apprehension? He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I can stay, though? If I wanted to, I mean."

"Of course. You don't need permission from me."

He nodded, but his expression remained unusually pensive. "I know," he said softly. He stared at her for what seemed like a long while, as though waiting for her to speak. When she did not, he finally looked down, then got to his feet. Approval? Does he want approval? A welcome? Not more than a few months back he had been bundled in restraints of Air and blasting all Aes Sedai for witches. He'd come all this way looking for answers about Chakai - answers she didn't have - not to greet a long lost, and before recently unknown relative. Or had he? His family was not dead, just disgruntled with him, and he too stubborn to reconcile ... but he acted very much as though he thought himself alone.

And him a man grown, as well. She sighed softly. "Sit down, Kasimir, I will get us paper and a quill."

---

Kasimir dictated the letter while Malaika penned it. Her right hand was clumsy from nerve damage, but still neater and more legible than her left. It was not a long message, just enough to let Kasimir's parents know he was not dead in a ditch somewhere or otherwise in serious trouble. They would not be happy to learn that he had come to her in Tar Valon, but she imagined his mother at least would be relieved to learn he was alive and well. She thought briefly of sending her own letter along with this one, to write down the feelings Chakai had been so resistent to hearing, but it seemed a futile exercise. He would not read it.

She passed Kasimir the quill so that he could sign his name, standing from the desk to allow him room ... and, she supposed, a bit of privacy to add anything else he wished. While she waited she paced the small study and paused to draw the drapes and shut out the falling dark. What a long day. Her back ached, she realised, and her lengthy lesson with Dayanne had taken it out of her. A bath would not be unwelcome, but the hour was growing late and she was reluctant to bother the servants. She ran her hands through her hair and blinked back tiredness.

"You can leave the letter there to dry; I will arrange its delivery tomorrow." Pigeons would be useless since she had none trained to the Nevaren household, but the Brown Ajah had other, more reliable methods of long distance communication. It was one of the gifts every new sister received upon her raising. Actually, it might be wise to consult Eithne first, since it wasn't a weave she had tried before; she didn't want to damage the poor animal. "Make sure you stopper the ink, too," she added distractedly.

"You're a strange one, do you know that? Are all Aes Sedai so ... closed?"

"I'm... sorry?" She had moved to the doorway without thinking, and used saidar to light the sitting room beyond. Her thoughts had already begun to drift, and the words wrenched her prematurely back to reality. Such things always disorientated her a moment; she really wasn't used to company at all hours, especially in the evenings when usually she spent the time alone and her musings meandered uninterrupted. She turned back into the shadowed study where Kasimir stood in the gloom. His arms were folded.

The young man sighed and looked extremely frustrated. "Look, I'm curious, okay? All of a sudden I have this aunt I knew nothing about until a couple of months back, and I want to know about her. You act like you don't care, but you make me send some stupid letter home. And I can tell I irritate you or whatever, but you haven't told me to leave. I haven't got a clue what goes through your head. It would be nice to know where I stand."

"It's not... you're not..." Yes, actually, she did find him tiresome at times, and yes her life would be much simper if he had never turned up at her door. Her lips pursed. "I do not dislike you, Kasimir, I am simply ... unaccustomed to company." She gestured a hand to the lit room. "If we're going to talk, let's at least sit down. I've had a long day."


He followed the Aes Sedai to the sitting room in an agitated manner and flopped down in a chair without much grace. She took her usual chair, but sat rather stiffly, as though she were expecting an interrogation. Last night she had said she'd returned to see his father because of love, but looking at the sternness of her expression he wondered if that were really true. He'd heard the witc--Aes Sedai couldn't lie, but rumour spread many things and twisted more truths than it told pure. He wondered if he was just an obligation to her. A duty. But for all that she seemed tense this evening, there was also a softness to her. Not vulnerability, exactly, but something almost melancholy. Did he remind her of something bad? His mother had often said he took after his father in looks. He tried to recall some of the subtleties he had observed of their interactions in Ebou Dar, but all he really remembered clearly was the moment his father's knife had sliced through her hand. Guilt lowered his gaze.

He did not find himself entirely comfortable here, in the White Tower, for all his cool acting to the contrary, but the mistrust had begun to ebb away, with her at least. She was family, Aes Sedai or no, and pretty much the only thing he had unless he swallowed his pride and reconciled with his father. The realisation startled him. Family. He had tried to coax her into telling him he could stay earlier, though at the time his sullen, childish mood had blinded him as to why. He wanted to stay, but more importantly, he wanted her to want him to stay. She wasn't his father ... and yet, they were united in their rejection. He wanted her approval; he had known her all of five minutes, and he wanted her approval. Kas massaged his temples. Light, here a single day and already I am dancing to the the Aes Sedai's tune.

His temper had calmed, and where a moment before he had been angry at her, he felt sort of pensive now. I shouldn't have snapped. He bet she was just waiting to tell him to sod off to back to Ebou Dar or wherever else he cared to go. 'I don't dislike you,' she had said, which really didn't make him feel any better. And why should I bloody well care what the witch thinks? Light, but the woman had offered him free passage to anywhere in the world, and coin enough to start a new life - his wildest dreams, in fact, and suddenly all he wanted was to stay here, in Tar Valon, centre of all the world's troubles.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have ... ah ... called you strange. And I didn't mean to snap. You just ... don't make it very easy for me to try and understand your point of view. I'm only a man, after all." Wait, was that a hint of smile? Or maybe the flickering play of lamplight, who knew? "I suppose you want to know why I just turned up here out of the blue, right? I'm not sure I even know myself. Shall we just call it the fault of the pattern?" He flashed a charming smile, but realised such things would probably have no effect on an Aes bloody Sedai. Black eyes flickered to the empty dishes on the table; he frowned. "And I know I said it before, but I really do mean it when I say I don't want to be a burden to you. But I do want to stay here, if you'll let me. Only if you'll let me."

He couldn't read her at all; her expressions were usually unemotive, and he noticed that she rarely smiled. She was not unfriendly, though, and there was a certain warmth in her demeanor that put him at ease. If she was going to send him away, at least she probably wouldn't do it as harshly and inexplicably as his father. Well, there it was then, his fate set free in the hands of the Tower, a place he'd never ever dreamed of willingly placing it. The Wheel Weaves and all that horsecrap.