03-16-2020, 09:41 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-27-2020, 09:00 PM by Natalie Grey.)
“Whatever it is you have done, the Tower will send someone,” Nythadri said eventually. Her thoughts were surprisingly quiet as these truths were bared, perhaps because Talin had gambled correctly. She would not leave. Light blind her for a fool, she would not. A sigh held her lungs, unreleased to the night air. Her awareness of Elly shifted like the woman was troubled by the emotions she sensed, and Nythadri could feel the burn of her gaze across the clearing. Annoyance flickered, quashed quickly. She did not think she would enjoy that continued insight.
A grim smile touched the edges of Talin’s lips. Her eyes remained cold. “I believe they will,” she said.
“And how long do you suppose we have before that? It did not go to plan. Your gate was botched. Something went wrong.”
The smile faded. Talin had never enjoyed criticism in all the years they’d trained alongside, but Nythadri was not circumspect in her accusation; she could not afford to be. Neither did she care to dance around the woman’s pride.
“We will have less time than I would like. Less time for you to truly think this through if that’s what you’re asking, though I’m sure you’ll cope. I’m given to understand it’s not the first time you’ve been placed in an untenable situation.”
“If you will listen to rumour, Talin.”
The Yellow gave a short shrug. Swathed by now in shadow, the horse moved suddenly to butt against its mistress’s shoulder. Talin turned to pat its nose. It was on the tip of Nythadri’s tongue, to ask for more detail -- to dissect everything offered, and perhaps to talk Talin down from whatever foolishness had brought them to this moment. Only she knew Talin was no fool. Had the concern been for herself alone she would have pressed, come what may. Eleanore did not deserve this, though. Time. She needed time.
Her eyes shut briefly. She ought to haul the woman back; they were similarly matched, and yet she knew she would not do that either. Even supposing she could.
Nor could she flee; not knowing there was a chance Talin really had done something heinous. Light, if that were the case, she could not let the woman go unchecked.
“The Tower will not do what is necessary to win this war, Nythadri,” Talin said softly. “We are steeped in too much tradition and too much bureaucracy. We fear change--”
“--You forced me into a bond,” Nythadri cut in. Talin’s rational tone jarred; her quiet urgency, her insistence that Nythadi accept such cruel means based on little more than the most fragile of sisterly ties. Anger held her in brittle vise, making a mask of her face. She would not be insulted with silver words meant to sooth what crimes already lay between them. Despite the bloody horse she closed the distance, her voice low. “You tried to shut the damn gate before Eleanore was through. Swear to me you walk in the Light, sister.”
Talin scoffed, glancing skyward. “If I did not, the oaths would not hold. I would swear it anyway.”
“You will, Talin. It's a condition.”
Talin straightened, imperious, and paused tight-mouthed to consider it -- or perhaps for her hackles to shiver in indignation at the demand. Either way the silence flooded ice into Nythadri’s gut; enough for saidar to hover like a promise. But after a moment she only snapped, “Then fine. I swear I walk in the Light.”
Was she lying? Could she lie? Nythadri did not know. The woman’s expression was perfectly guileless, her eyes unblinking, and yet there had always been a vast disparity between such an innocent shell and the cold heart it shielded. She was annoyed, that much Nythadri could tell -- and reciprocate. Beyond that, if she had hoped for some epiphany to shore up her doubts she was disappointed to feel nothing that spoke of certainty. At least the other did not reach for the one power. “The cost of trust is that it will be a mutual convenience. You will trust me too,” she said, watching the Yellow’s lips begin to tighten in protest. “There are loose ends I will not leave to unravel in Tar Valon.”
The Aes Sedai’s mouth opened before Nythadri cut her short, almost wearily. “That is the second condition, Talin.”
And those lips blessedly clamped. Talin’s expression schooled to patience, though her cheeks were flushed with irritation. She did not speak, just made some flippant gesture of assent with her hand. Some relief at a trust bestowed calmed Nythadri’s ire, but the victory still tasted bitter. The Yellow already returned to her horse, and Nythadri stepped away. “Tomorrow I will send what word I must, and so tonight I will ask no questions. Afterwards, you will tell me everything.”
“I ought to make you swear it,” Talin added dryly. “Instead I will make another oath, Nythadri. That I will see this through by any means. And at any cost.”
Eleanore sat alone when she returned, the blanket still looped about her shoulders. Her face lifted from contemplation of the flames, brows raised in question as Nythadri joined her. Perhaps it was uncharitable, but the expectation grated. A bond did not grant automatic confidences, particularly not the newly minted nature of their own. They were strangers. Yet when she saw a muscle twitch in the other woman’s jaw it almost sparked a twinge of guilt. Quickly banished, though. Mostly because she did not want the warder to sense it.
Light, what a mess.
Even down to her bloody surroundings.
The chill did not touch her of course, and she had not been Aes Sedai for so long as to have grown accustomed to the Tower’s luxury, but discomfort hung like a stone around her neck for the night’s accommodation. Even in the balmy warmth of Arad Doman she had not particularly enjoyed the brief sojourn waiting for the hunt to conclude, and these cooler climes reminded her more of the Farm than golden sands anyway. Not a great memory.
By this hour of the evening she ought to be in the Ajah halls entertaining Maylis’s droll conversation, coaxing for news in the west -- an interest she did not doubt the Green had gleaned and fed accordingly. Instead it was likely the first moment of the day her absence would be noticed.
Nythadri massaged the silver serpent curled around her finger and tried not to let the trespass of thought stray too far to the future. It had taken years to reconcile the fact her thread bound her to the Tower, and the starkest truth was it had taken Jai for her to finally pick a path. After years of fighting it, she’d finally grown roots -- only to suddenly find herself wrenched free. Acknowledging that now dizzied her with a sense of unravelling. It took her a moment to understand it was the realisation of having something to lose, and she reared away from it.
Instead she turned her attention to another responsibility.
A ward would draw more attention than a whisper, and she would sense if Talin tried to eavesdrop. Perhaps she had struck an accord with the other Aes Sedai but it felt tenuous at best until she had all the facts. It niggled, that ignorance, but she did not regret the sacrifice of a few hours. Not when it won Elly a chance at escape. “Tomorrow we will acquire the extra supplies your presence necessitates. Another horse. I believe I could make a gate if you wished.”
Light but the Kandori had a startlingly poor grasp of schooling her emotions, even with the deep play of shadows hiding half her face. The nakedness of her reaction irritated, or perhaps that she clearly misinterpreted the gesture for an insult despite the cord of their connection.
“To be rid of me?” she asked flatly.
“It’s not rejection, Eleanore, it’s freedom. A choice.”
“I made a choice.”
“Under duress.”
Elly scowled.
Nythadri hardly needed the additional flood of scorn, but she weathered it nonetheless as it swarmed the bond. The ingratitude seared given the risk of discovery, but she deigned not to care what Elly thought. Nor to explain herself. The binding of oaths were all well and good, but they were tainted by the bars of Talin’s cage. She was offering a courtesy not a sentence, but the fool chose not to hear it. Light knew she never would have chosen a woman willingly; not for any doubt of capability, but because women were bloody difficult. An epiphany Nythadri imagined Eleanore was realising that very moment.
“Burn you. And burn me for a fool. Bloody Aes Sedai.” She stood abruptly, firelight catching in the scars of her face, and stalked away.
A grim smile touched the edges of Talin’s lips. Her eyes remained cold. “I believe they will,” she said.
“And how long do you suppose we have before that? It did not go to plan. Your gate was botched. Something went wrong.”
The smile faded. Talin had never enjoyed criticism in all the years they’d trained alongside, but Nythadri was not circumspect in her accusation; she could not afford to be. Neither did she care to dance around the woman’s pride.
“We will have less time than I would like. Less time for you to truly think this through if that’s what you’re asking, though I’m sure you’ll cope. I’m given to understand it’s not the first time you’ve been placed in an untenable situation.”
“If you will listen to rumour, Talin.”
The Yellow gave a short shrug. Swathed by now in shadow, the horse moved suddenly to butt against its mistress’s shoulder. Talin turned to pat its nose. It was on the tip of Nythadri’s tongue, to ask for more detail -- to dissect everything offered, and perhaps to talk Talin down from whatever foolishness had brought them to this moment. Only she knew Talin was no fool. Had the concern been for herself alone she would have pressed, come what may. Eleanore did not deserve this, though. Time. She needed time.
Her eyes shut briefly. She ought to haul the woman back; they were similarly matched, and yet she knew she would not do that either. Even supposing she could.
Nor could she flee; not knowing there was a chance Talin really had done something heinous. Light, if that were the case, she could not let the woman go unchecked.
“The Tower will not do what is necessary to win this war, Nythadri,” Talin said softly. “We are steeped in too much tradition and too much bureaucracy. We fear change--”
“--You forced me into a bond,” Nythadri cut in. Talin’s rational tone jarred; her quiet urgency, her insistence that Nythadi accept such cruel means based on little more than the most fragile of sisterly ties. Anger held her in brittle vise, making a mask of her face. She would not be insulted with silver words meant to sooth what crimes already lay between them. Despite the bloody horse she closed the distance, her voice low. “You tried to shut the damn gate before Eleanore was through. Swear to me you walk in the Light, sister.”
Talin scoffed, glancing skyward. “If I did not, the oaths would not hold. I would swear it anyway.”
“You will, Talin. It's a condition.”
Talin straightened, imperious, and paused tight-mouthed to consider it -- or perhaps for her hackles to shiver in indignation at the demand. Either way the silence flooded ice into Nythadri’s gut; enough for saidar to hover like a promise. But after a moment she only snapped, “Then fine. I swear I walk in the Light.”
Was she lying? Could she lie? Nythadri did not know. The woman’s expression was perfectly guileless, her eyes unblinking, and yet there had always been a vast disparity between such an innocent shell and the cold heart it shielded. She was annoyed, that much Nythadri could tell -- and reciprocate. Beyond that, if she had hoped for some epiphany to shore up her doubts she was disappointed to feel nothing that spoke of certainty. At least the other did not reach for the one power. “The cost of trust is that it will be a mutual convenience. You will trust me too,” she said, watching the Yellow’s lips begin to tighten in protest. “There are loose ends I will not leave to unravel in Tar Valon.”
The Aes Sedai’s mouth opened before Nythadri cut her short, almost wearily. “That is the second condition, Talin.”
And those lips blessedly clamped. Talin’s expression schooled to patience, though her cheeks were flushed with irritation. She did not speak, just made some flippant gesture of assent with her hand. Some relief at a trust bestowed calmed Nythadri’s ire, but the victory still tasted bitter. The Yellow already returned to her horse, and Nythadri stepped away. “Tomorrow I will send what word I must, and so tonight I will ask no questions. Afterwards, you will tell me everything.”
“I ought to make you swear it,” Talin added dryly. “Instead I will make another oath, Nythadri. That I will see this through by any means. And at any cost.”
Eleanore sat alone when she returned, the blanket still looped about her shoulders. Her face lifted from contemplation of the flames, brows raised in question as Nythadri joined her. Perhaps it was uncharitable, but the expectation grated. A bond did not grant automatic confidences, particularly not the newly minted nature of their own. They were strangers. Yet when she saw a muscle twitch in the other woman’s jaw it almost sparked a twinge of guilt. Quickly banished, though. Mostly because she did not want the warder to sense it.
Light, what a mess.
Even down to her bloody surroundings.
The chill did not touch her of course, and she had not been Aes Sedai for so long as to have grown accustomed to the Tower’s luxury, but discomfort hung like a stone around her neck for the night’s accommodation. Even in the balmy warmth of Arad Doman she had not particularly enjoyed the brief sojourn waiting for the hunt to conclude, and these cooler climes reminded her more of the Farm than golden sands anyway. Not a great memory.
By this hour of the evening she ought to be in the Ajah halls entertaining Maylis’s droll conversation, coaxing for news in the west -- an interest she did not doubt the Green had gleaned and fed accordingly. Instead it was likely the first moment of the day her absence would be noticed.
Nythadri massaged the silver serpent curled around her finger and tried not to let the trespass of thought stray too far to the future. It had taken years to reconcile the fact her thread bound her to the Tower, and the starkest truth was it had taken Jai for her to finally pick a path. After years of fighting it, she’d finally grown roots -- only to suddenly find herself wrenched free. Acknowledging that now dizzied her with a sense of unravelling. It took her a moment to understand it was the realisation of having something to lose, and she reared away from it.
Instead she turned her attention to another responsibility.
A ward would draw more attention than a whisper, and she would sense if Talin tried to eavesdrop. Perhaps she had struck an accord with the other Aes Sedai but it felt tenuous at best until she had all the facts. It niggled, that ignorance, but she did not regret the sacrifice of a few hours. Not when it won Elly a chance at escape. “Tomorrow we will acquire the extra supplies your presence necessitates. Another horse. I believe I could make a gate if you wished.”
Light but the Kandori had a startlingly poor grasp of schooling her emotions, even with the deep play of shadows hiding half her face. The nakedness of her reaction irritated, or perhaps that she clearly misinterpreted the gesture for an insult despite the cord of their connection.
“To be rid of me?” she asked flatly.
“It’s not rejection, Eleanore, it’s freedom. A choice.”
“I made a choice.”
“Under duress.”
Elly scowled.
Nythadri hardly needed the additional flood of scorn, but she weathered it nonetheless as it swarmed the bond. The ingratitude seared given the risk of discovery, but she deigned not to care what Elly thought. Nor to explain herself. The binding of oaths were all well and good, but they were tainted by the bars of Talin’s cage. She was offering a courtesy not a sentence, but the fool chose not to hear it. Light knew she never would have chosen a woman willingly; not for any doubt of capability, but because women were bloody difficult. An epiphany Nythadri imagined Eleanore was realising that very moment.
“Burn you. And burn me for a fool. Bloody Aes Sedai.” She stood abruptly, firelight catching in the scars of her face, and stalked away.