01-03-2022, 04:55 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-03-2022, 04:59 AM by Lawrence Monday.)
She nodded in solemnity when a Sister imparted her regrets over Blakeahle. “Thank you for the thoughts,” she replied as they parted ways. Ever since Lythia returned without her warder at her side, she had to account for his absence. She couldn’t say that he was dead, as his face would prove her wrong the first time he crossed paths with any member of the Ajahs’ Eyes and Ears. Nor could she say that she released him of his bond out of some sort of obligation to his family. The implication that he was returning to Andoran politics would disrupt the balance of power in the country and draw even more attention than she wanted to start with.
The rumor that Blakeahle was a Darkfriend circulated shortly after she returned from Corartheren. Nobody in the Tower really knew its origins except Lythia, whose machinations gave it birth to start with. The hush and secrecy meant there was little inquiry and gave Lythia permission to side-step the conversations completely. Since then, generic messages of support were passed through various channels. Ly merely accepted them somberly and moved on. Today, however, she was drawn to the warder’s yards – a place she once visited on a regular basis. Caia’li had told her that Vladamir had spoken particularly well of a handful of recruits. Lythia detested the idea of a borderlander warder. They were always far too honorable and formal. She wanted someone with personality and heat. Adding in the requirement that they be a darkfriend shortened the list considerably. She would be Keeper soon, and she was seriously devoid of a warder. This was a problem she had to rectify sooner rather than later.
The day was nice, she thought upon leaving the shade of the Tower’s walls. Her mood only heightened when she came upon the activity of the training yard. A million years ago she’d snuck along these dirt paths as a novice. The novices she trained with looked down their noses when Lythia was caught with a warders in training behind a bush or in the weapon shed. She could still see the smug looks on the faces of Mierelle, Kekura, and Devane. They all ended up as Gray, Red and Brown – the most insufferable Ajahs. Even Whites were more lively. Just thinking of Devane tightened old angers in her chest; their fights were legendary. She’d give anything to face that self-righteous Brown now. Maybe after she was Keeper, she’d find where Devane ended up…
Lythia trailed her fingers along the training ring fence centered in the yard. Of course, she’d drawn attention simply by being there. Any Aes Sedai would be cause to stop an exercise and bow, but Lythia Sedai could disrupt the entire program. She smiled and waved away the accolades, much preferring to watch the men sweat and work to bowing and scraping.
After a few minutes watching a Shienaran AotS spar against two WiTs, Lythia decided that even if she found a Darkfriend among them, the boys were far too young. Her age was irrelevant, but she knew she wanted a man.
It was a different sort of noise that pricked her ears next. This was clacking of wood on steel, and it was coming from a sparring circle featuring the artistry of sword-forms against the tenacity of a quarterstaff. Vladamir himself was overseeing the match. Lythia joined him with a familiar nod, but no amount of waving aside could dismiss his bow. It had been some time since she’d seen him last. Caia’li didn’t often leave the Tower, which meant her gorgeous warder was left alone.
“Lythia Sedai, it is an honor to have you with us,” he said with a bow. He’d aged more than she remembered these past few years. His attention turned back to the spar.
“Peace, Vladamir but you look about as content as a hungry jumara,” she said and instantly cringed inside. Blood and ashes but she had to watch her tongue with the jokes. Sarcasm and lies were two sides of the same coin and catching herself blatantly shirking the three oaths was a recipe for disaster. Of course, the stoic borderlander did not take to her joke well, which was all the best since he was too block-headed to even notice the faux pas. As a means to smooth wounded pride, she touched him on the arm as a sort of comfort, noting the reflexive tension quiver beneath the sleeve (and the rock of a dense bicep as well). As a WiT he was just as jumpy, especially around the girls, and it seemed nothing had changed all these years. Light but he was a waste on Caia'li.
She sighed and turned her attention back to the spar. Vladamir was a long-ago lost cause with weaknesses up to the top of his remarkably anti-shienaran hair. Caia’li was loyal as ever to Lythia. There was no more to gain than the whimpers of a sad puppy from pressing his buttons.
“Who is the quarterstaff?” she asked of him, hoping the change of topic would elicit some response. The man was unknown to Lythia, much to her disappointment as he brandished the staff with all the confidence of one accustomed to flailing around a long rod. Nor was he bad on the eyes with a mop of hair and sleek body. “By the scars, I’d say he’s lost more fights than won,” she added.
“You’re probably right,” Vladamir said even as he continued to study his brother in the ring. “That’s the gleeman.”
The rumor that Blakeahle was a Darkfriend circulated shortly after she returned from Corartheren. Nobody in the Tower really knew its origins except Lythia, whose machinations gave it birth to start with. The hush and secrecy meant there was little inquiry and gave Lythia permission to side-step the conversations completely. Since then, generic messages of support were passed through various channels. Ly merely accepted them somberly and moved on. Today, however, she was drawn to the warder’s yards – a place she once visited on a regular basis. Caia’li had told her that Vladamir had spoken particularly well of a handful of recruits. Lythia detested the idea of a borderlander warder. They were always far too honorable and formal. She wanted someone with personality and heat. Adding in the requirement that they be a darkfriend shortened the list considerably. She would be Keeper soon, and she was seriously devoid of a warder. This was a problem she had to rectify sooner rather than later.
The day was nice, she thought upon leaving the shade of the Tower’s walls. Her mood only heightened when she came upon the activity of the training yard. A million years ago she’d snuck along these dirt paths as a novice. The novices she trained with looked down their noses when Lythia was caught with a warders in training behind a bush or in the weapon shed. She could still see the smug looks on the faces of Mierelle, Kekura, and Devane. They all ended up as Gray, Red and Brown – the most insufferable Ajahs. Even Whites were more lively. Just thinking of Devane tightened old angers in her chest; their fights were legendary. She’d give anything to face that self-righteous Brown now. Maybe after she was Keeper, she’d find where Devane ended up…
Lythia trailed her fingers along the training ring fence centered in the yard. Of course, she’d drawn attention simply by being there. Any Aes Sedai would be cause to stop an exercise and bow, but Lythia Sedai could disrupt the entire program. She smiled and waved away the accolades, much preferring to watch the men sweat and work to bowing and scraping.
After a few minutes watching a Shienaran AotS spar against two WiTs, Lythia decided that even if she found a Darkfriend among them, the boys were far too young. Her age was irrelevant, but she knew she wanted a man.
It was a different sort of noise that pricked her ears next. This was clacking of wood on steel, and it was coming from a sparring circle featuring the artistry of sword-forms against the tenacity of a quarterstaff. Vladamir himself was overseeing the match. Lythia joined him with a familiar nod, but no amount of waving aside could dismiss his bow. It had been some time since she’d seen him last. Caia’li didn’t often leave the Tower, which meant her gorgeous warder was left alone.
“Lythia Sedai, it is an honor to have you with us,” he said with a bow. He’d aged more than she remembered these past few years. His attention turned back to the spar.
“Peace, Vladamir but you look about as content as a hungry jumara,” she said and instantly cringed inside. Blood and ashes but she had to watch her tongue with the jokes. Sarcasm and lies were two sides of the same coin and catching herself blatantly shirking the three oaths was a recipe for disaster. Of course, the stoic borderlander did not take to her joke well, which was all the best since he was too block-headed to even notice the faux pas. As a means to smooth wounded pride, she touched him on the arm as a sort of comfort, noting the reflexive tension quiver beneath the sleeve (and the rock of a dense bicep as well). As a WiT he was just as jumpy, especially around the girls, and it seemed nothing had changed all these years. Light but he was a waste on Caia'li.
She sighed and turned her attention back to the spar. Vladamir was a long-ago lost cause with weaknesses up to the top of his remarkably anti-shienaran hair. Caia’li was loyal as ever to Lythia. There was no more to gain than the whimpers of a sad puppy from pressing his buttons.
“Who is the quarterstaff?” she asked of him, hoping the change of topic would elicit some response. The man was unknown to Lythia, much to her disappointment as he brandished the staff with all the confidence of one accustomed to flailing around a long rod. Nor was he bad on the eyes with a mop of hair and sleek body. “By the scars, I’d say he’s lost more fights than won,” she added.
“You’re probably right,” Vladamir said even as he continued to study his brother in the ring. “That’s the gleeman.”