Coming to a Resolution

[Natalie Grey]

 
Nythadri & Ellomai, Green Ajah

Nythadri didn’t miss the city, a revelation she found both strange and melancholy given all the years she had longed after its memory. Despite her commitment to time, she walked the distance from the seat of her family’s House to the gilded gates of the palace, glad for the moment to feel the stir of fresh air – and for the opportunity to be alone. Her thoughts revolved slowly, roused by the conversation with her father to brutally pensive ends. She rarely looked back, not even on the worst parts of her life. Even the Arches only prompted a resigned dedication to ignorance, despite how the things she had been forced to do in the test tightened in her stomach. Light, it could have been so different.

She would not trade her life now for what was gone. The things she had wanted then were not the things she even wanted now. But that did not loosen the claw of loss from her soul. And light she had lost.

The steps to her destination were all the time she would allow herself to dwell, but for that time, she let herself consider the locked doors of her pain. At least until the ghosts within quietened, and she might leave them to settle once more into nothing but ruthlessly distant memory. Both of them.

Nythadri’s face was young, not even close to ageless, but it was unusual to see a noblewoman traversing the city walkways completely alone. She was aware of the ripple of respectful distance that opened around her. The denizens of Caemlyn were not unfamiliar with Aes Sedai, especially not this close to the apex of Elayne’s power, and they reacted accordingly. As she drew closer the red lion fluttered from white spired turrets high above. Soldiers roamed on regular duties, crimson cloaks fluttering in their wake. Formalities marked her entrance beyond the Queen’s Plaza, but she encountered no difficulties.

The royal library held the robust and distinctive scent of parchment and ink to it. After the bright daylight outside, its hallowed shadows touched her skin cool, even beneath her ocean-stitched cloak. Nythadri’s pale eyes adjusted slowly. The woman working studiously at the desk was clearly Aes Sedai, and though her busy fingers were stained dark with ink, Nythadri knew she was no Brown. Her hair was pinned neatly to her head in grey waves, unadorned with trinkets or jewellery, and she was dressed in stately green velvet worked through with old-fashioned gold detail. Among the stitched motifs flew the proud crane in a repeating pattern.

This woman had shaped much of Nythadri’s recent life, and yet they had never met. Among her other Ajah duties, Ellomai had been tasked with watching over the Vanditera’s movements in the city. Like as not she was already aware of Nythadri’s visit, as was the intention in being here at all of course, but it was information she came for now. The appointment had been Lythia’s, and if her Captain-General trusted this woman, then Nythadri was reassured of the same. Plus, she would far rather pass the Tower’s threshold armed with some knowledge of what she might find. Talin’s doubts permeated. They made Arikan’s demands a little easier to stomach, but blood and ashes she hoped they were not true.

The sister’s wide, smooth cheeks were a pleasant and unusual mix of regal and jolly. She did not look up from her papers, though she must have been aware by now of the waiting presence. Something spoke to Nythadri of amusement more than a play of power or annoyance. She threaded her hands patiently in front of her, and finished her open appraisal of her Ajah sister before she spoke. “Sister. I believe I am in some debt to you. It is nice to place a face to the name.”

“Sister. I do believe you should not be here.” Those merry dark eyes still did not glance up, though a smile tipped her lips. Definitely aware, then.

“I like to see things through.”

“Hmm. I think you simply enjoy playing the rebel, my dear. But I expect that is part of the charm, no? Some of us are not so old we cannot remember what it was like to be young.”

Nythadri smirked. You’ll like her, Lythia had said, and it seemed she had not been wrong in the assessment. Ellomai paused long enough from her scribblings to wave her hand for the attendant archivist, whereupon she pointed at the text and regaled some instruction as she stood. She proceeded to excuse herself from her duties in favour of a light refreshment – though really, Nythadri doubted the man would dare offer a single judgement on the schedule of Aes Sedai, especially in the royal palace. He quietly took her seat and began frowning down at the various parchments, a pair of tiny round spectacles perched perilously close to the edge of his small nose.

“Come then, sister. Your timing is fortuitous, I really am quite famished.” Ellomai beckoned, and Nythadri fell into step. The heavy fall of the woman’s skirts swished around her wide hips as they walked her kingdom. Vast cases towered in ornate displays to either side, each containing rows upon rows of books with pristine spines bound in expensive leather and gilt. As the stacks passed them by, some contained tightly furled scrolls instead. Others were fronted with protective glass with gold chased handles. The ceilings were vaulted high above them. Nythadri did not look to see how far up the rows of volumes rose. “I do so miss the welcoming of new sisters. It has been many years now since I have been in attendance. Did Maylis present you with her usual gift? She does so find it funny. I hope you disappointed them all and did not blush.” The Aes Sedai chuckled to herself, her eyes twinkling a sidelong glance in Nythadri’s direction. “Somehow, I think you did not blush.”

A hum of surprised laughter left Nythadri’s throat, pressing upon her the first flush of ease she had felt in days. She tipped her shoulder with a sly smirk, leaned a little closer, and confirmed the suspicion conspiratorially correct – on both counts. Ellomai gave a delighted burst of laughter in return, visibly startling a liveried girl rearranging shelves in an alcove.

The Green led them to a small reading room with tall arched windows that looked out onto a small and full-flowering courtyard garden. A large winterwood table took most of the interior space, lined along its centre with covered lamps, each of them currently dark without use. The attendant chairs were plush with rolled arms of studded leather and velvet. She thought it was Ellomai’s warder who presently delivered the tea, a stout and greying borderlander with long moustaches, but he did not stay. Ellomai patted his hand distractedly before he left them, turning inwards to softly close the gilt-worked doors behind him and so ensure their privacy.

Little bowls of honey and cream accompanied the strongly-brewed smell of fresh tea. A silver tray contained a plate of small knotted pastries and delicate cakes, and another of savouries and wedges of cheese. Nythadri had barely eaten this morning, just some of the scant leftovers from their Illianer dinner the night before: some shrivelled olives and dry bread, a gulp of spiced wine – and only that because Elly had insisted. Her stomach had been in knots after Talin’s surprise revelation anyway, but it churned more under the pressure of discovering whether or not she could actually create a Gate to where they needed to go. Not something she could admit to Elly so soon after leaning on the values of trust. Fortunately, the endeavour had gone smoothly. Probably because of the stubborn pressure that refused her to wait for the Yellow’s release from Arikan’s questioning. To have to ask.

She realised she was hungry, but as much as it infuriated her, all she could think of then was what Arikan had said about tea and poison. Ellomai seemed to have no such compunctions, for she had already bitten into one of the pastries and begun to bemoan furiously that the kitchen had sent the crumbly ones again. Saidar bloomed to divest the offending crumbs back onto the porcelain plate before they could escape to wreak untold havoc. Then it looped around them again, in the shape of a ward. Nythadri did not comment on the need for that much privacy, but she did glance briefly at the woman’s serene face. In the meantime she poured for them both. Nythadri was stronger in the power, but she was here in deference – and the fringes of her newly acquired shawl had barely stopped swinging. The solicitation would be obvious, but she didn't think it would harm.

Afterwards she sat back and took a belligerent sip of her own, brewed strong and left dark. She didn’t even bloody well like tea. Ellomai favoured honey and a sparse dollop of the cream. Her delicate spoon rang tunefully against the rim of the cup before she placed it in the saucer. In the moment of quaint and ordinary domesticity, the sting of the last few days began to catch up. Nythadri balanced the weight without thinking, but it was heavy enough to crush when she became aware of it. She wanted to sag, to lay the burden down somewhere, but realised Ellomai was watching her with enough shrewdness to remind her she could not.

“So, Nythadri. Is this visit about your Asha’man?” They all called him that, and Nythadri was never sure how it made her feel. She did not answer, but the Green did not pause as though she expected one: it made no difference, clearly Jai was exactly who they were going to talk about first. But that was fine – useful even. It made things easier in the long run if Ellomai made assumptions, and Nythadri only waited patiently for the sermon that was bound to come next. “Those were great lengths he went to in order to right a perceived wrong. A woman might be flattered by it. But it was an ill-conceived design.”

One Ellomai had been recruited to help remedy, and in doing so had tied Nythadri’s allegiances to the Ajah. Lythia had said much the same thing. Nythadri accepted the debt, but also understood there was a question being asked. “You’re wondering what he might do next time.”

“A little.”

But Jai was leagues away. He was as safe as he could be for a man who wore the pins. Assuming her message had successfully made it through to Araya, then the light send it would stay that way too – even if he’d first returned to the city following news of Andreu’s death. She was not sure that he would, but she did know duty would drive him back again. It always did, and he had no fondness for the city of his birth either. She’d rather have been there to know for sure, but there was little point dwelling on what had ultimately been beyond her control. Or worrying about how he might have interpreted her absence, should he have gone to the Tower. He wouldn’t have done that, would he? He didn’t know she had been Raised.

Arad Doman was as stable as circumstance would allow, and she took comfort in that. Maylis curled her lip often with tales of coastal skirmishing, but that was a natural test of an uneasy peace. No one wanted it, but there was little choice in the long run, and if anyone actually could enforce and sustain it, it was Daryen. There was also the concerning implication Talin claimed; that in endorsing the treaty, Kaydrienne’s support had suffered in the Hall, but Liridia had been at the hunt, and Daryen’s own sister was Aes Sedai – and a Sitter too. This truce with the Seanchan might not be comfortable, but it was necessary. Light, beyond that it was the Dragon’s flaming will. They couldn’t afford war to pincer on two fronts. Elayne seemed to understand it; she’d sent men north to answer Shienar’s desperate plea against the Blight’s crawl forward. Perhaps Ellomai herself had had a hand in that. It seemed very few eyes were pointed in the right direction.

In any case, Jai was safe because he bloody well had to be. Seanchan must wait. The peace must hold.

The certitude quieted her. She reasoned Lythia would have told her if anything had changed in the Domani capital, and there had been nothing of undue concern in the days before she had left the Tower. For now Nythadri’s anxieties were all aimed in an entirely different direction. She laced her fingers, resting her chin on her hands. Her pale gaze was thoughtful. But when she posed her next question, it was not about Jai as Ellomai would naturally assume. “And do you have advice, sister? The Ajah must have some wisdom. Light knows I would hear it gladly.”

It was one of the reasons she had come here, the hope that Ellomai might be able to shed more light on useful Ajah secrets. Nythadri would need all the aid she could get in facing the challenges to come. Arikan might not be mad as she had initially feared, but he would prove difficult to manoeuvre in the right ways, and not all of Elly’s lecture had fallen on deaf ears. The question of Elsae’s involvement circled her thoughts too, not just the why of it, but the morality of it. Could she really deliver the girl not knowing what Arikan intended? And with no way to protect them both either, should it all fall awry.

For an incongruous, fanciful moment, Nythadri considered sharing more with the woman opposite. Talin was already committed to the exchange, and Elly was a soldier; her thoughts were blunt and righteous. Neither could offer impartiality. What would Ellomai make of it? She tried to picture it. Thirteen sisters seemed an impossible mountain to climb in so short a space of time as she had, but Ellomai could be trusted as one of the circle, surely. There could be no Black Ajah allegiance lurking beneath that merry smile.

“Oh my dear, I have tricks I might share with you.” The woman laughed salaciously, pausing for a sip of her sweet tea to stem the amusement. Above the edge of her cup, her gaze glittered. Nythadri’s lips flickered in return, and another time she might have jested in kind, but she was too intent on the answer to truly respond to the ribald humour. “The Ajah never thinks to send new sisters to me,” Ellomai continued, nestling her tea between her hands and leaning in. “Most of them would be disappointed at the thought, I believe – for what can a librarian know of battlefields and war? Though ours is not just an Ajah of glory, of course. It is an Ajah of living.” She laughed again, arched a brow, and added, “And what indeed may a librarian know of that, either?

“But I have a great wealth and breadth of knowledge at my fingertips, and an excellent memory if I do say so myself. Yes, Nythadri, there are certainly a few things I can share with you before you leave.” She smiled warmly, and reached to pat Nythadri’s arm in fond motherly fashion. That was something at least. The relief did not unfurl very far, but it felt like the steadying embrace of belonging, and for now it was enough to feel she did not stand entirely alone. The Ajah must have knowledge she could use somehow. Besides the obvious of course, a resolution she was neither willing nor prepared to enact beyond last resort. The idea made her skin crawl.

She nodded, relieved.

How do we deal with them when they’re unstable? When they’re dangerous? Those were the questions she would ask, though it felt disingenuous to lean on Jai for the manipulation. She had never been afraid of him, even as she respected that the volatile eruptions of his paranoia had the capacity to harm her. He’d warned her himself of the danger he presented when they’d first walked that beach, but by then she had already seen the evidence with her own eyes. Her instincts lay with protection nonetheless, as they had when she’d confronted Imaad Suaya for his provocations on the hunt. She would not savour the inference of seeing only what everyone else saw in Jai, even when it was a necessary concealment. With an Ajah Sister in particular it felt like the uncomfortable edges of a betrayal.

She ate a little in the quiet before Ellomai spoke again. Assurances of aid could only be surpassed by assurances she was doing the right thing, but she was unlikely to get those. This promise was enough. It had to be.

Ellomai’s tone took on a kindly and confidential air. “He is touched by the madness, is he not? That is certainly what the rumours say. The boy nearly snapped my arm clean off when I disturbed his study, though he was quite contrite after. The old blood is strong in him, no? Malkier lives on.” Her plump cheeks took on both warmth and pride, but an inconsolable sadness too. Light he almost attacked an Aes Sedai? It didn’t surprise her, but she hadn’t known either. Nythadri tried not to think of the sword; of the legacy melted in a single cruel act. Honour was a reflex in Jai that never ceased to take her by surprise given how he buried it so often, yet when it surfaced it was so indomitably him she was never quite sure why it felt that way. She missed him so strongly then it was like an actual pain in her chest.

But she ought not be thinking of Jai. He couldn’t become tangled in any of this, and certainly not before she had a handle on it herself. Ellomai was right to question what he’d do. She didn’t know for certain either. Follow her to the ends of the earth, probably. Or beat her there to shove her out the way and take the plummet himself. That was what she feared anyway.

Arikan couldn’t be trusted. But she must play the game he insisted upon until she was sure if he could be used for the light’s purpose.

“-- we have a duty to our Brothers,” Ellomai was saying.

“Such it becomes our place to coax our brothers back when they drift toward insanity. Because we can handle it." Those were Lythia’s words, scalded in the back of her mind the moment she had heard them. She murmured them aloud in faint surprise, but only because something occurred to her then. Did a dreadlord count? Light of course it didn’t, but she couldn’t get the image of his fear out of her head. Or the desperate way he had shaken at Talin.

Whatever justification she settled on, Nythadri knew well what she must do, but blood and ashes she wished someone could simply tell her how to do it. Preferably without a loss of limb or life. It wasn’t a pledge of redemption; she’d been honest with Elly about that. It was a balance she vowed to her own soul. If Arikan strayed too close to the line – not to insanity, but to relapse – then she had to be the one to drag him back, willing or not, because there was no one else to bloody do it. Else she had to be the one to end the rampage. But she knew she'd first take the risk.

“Oh yes, indeed,” Ellomai continued. By the surprised pride in her tone, she recognised the quote and from whom it had come. She helped herself to another cake. “It seems I am not the only scholar here; how delightful! I have no great experience of the Black Tower, and it is a different thing, a partnership with a man who can channel. Lythia could certainly tell you more about what you wish to know,” she added gently.

“But my advice would be that you must either cut the cord entirely, in a clean and gentle fashion of course, else you must claim him. It is not fair to allow him to languish, Nythadri, and certainly not when he has already acted on your behalf. It is quite clear he will move mountains to protect you, perhaps whether you wish it or not. Better the direction comes from you, than from others who might wish to use the connection already between you to their advantage. Though I am not displeased to see you, sister, I will admit I am surprised you came here first.”

She blinked at that. Felt the drift of the conversation she had thought bent to her advantage suddenly settle about her shoulders like a vise. It held the tone of an admonishment, and after a moment Nythadri realised that was exactly what it was. Lythia had spoken to her of responsibility before, and she’d considered the lesson learnt the hard way given all Jai had suffered as a result. When he softened the walls of her heart with promises of anything, she’d known immediately she would ask nothing at all that might pull him into the riptides of another scandal.

As such, of the options available to her in Illian she resolved easily that heading to Bandar Eban was a frivolity of the heart, and dismissed it as an indulgence she could not afford to give herself. But Ellomai made it sound like she’d left a flank open – not just for her, but for him too.

“Light, he hasn’t done something else has he?”

For the first time, the Green’s cheeks flattened into seriousness, and Nythadri felt her heart begin to both sink and pound with alarming ferocity. The knot of Elly’s emotions stirred in response, but she pushed the distraction away. Clearly, this was why Ellomai felt the ward against listening ears necessary.

“He has not yet – not that I know. But King Daimon is something we must speak of. Arad Doman’s negotiations have finally reached fruition, and terms of the treaty have been agreed. However, Mother has forbade any Sisters to attend the proceedings. We are to turn our eyes away.”

A public withdrawal of support? Now? “Why would she do that?”

“You or I may see that this endeavour is a necessary evil, but it is deeply unpopular, Nythadri. The treaty will still stand. It has to. But the Tower must be circumspect in the ways it is involved. I trust you understand now how this will affect you and your interests there.”

Circumspect? Discretion would be damning. Daryen was not just a king, he was an Asha’man.

She internalised it quickly.

The Tower wanted peace; blood and bloody ashes, it needed peace. If it turned its support away now, then it was because of something Daryen had planned. Her blood cooled. Whatever it was, like as not Jai would not be informed; Daryen twisted the chains of trust and knew Jai would twist with them. He’d not even seen fit to warn him of the Blood’s invitation to the feast and dancing after the hunt; Nythadri had read it plain in Jai’s reaction. Even Liridia had been disturbed. Maybe it was because Daryen understood the truths he could and could not share, but Nythadri only saw a dereliction of trust in those he ought to hold closer. The game he played hurt those around him.

Memories of the night replayed with alarming clarity. Daryen and Trista had arrived together in a glitter of pomp and flourish that she’d seemed decidedly unimpressed by, though she had still been dressed like a consort, the accents of gold on red very clearly complimenting his kingly attire. He’d even called her his gaidar, yet by what Nythadri had seen from afar, Jai had seemed perplexed at who she even was. He wasn’t the only one. While Daryen had paraded her before his court the rumours had flown swiftly behind hand-shrouded lips. A lover? A protector? He even introduced her in the very same breath he’d used to reveal the High Lord Sivrikaya and his Voice. Araya had been there that night too, she recalled, the concern awash on his unguarded expression while he looked up at the dias like it had all meant something to him.

Only one other thing of note had transpired after. Later that evening Trista and the Voice had fought a contest of skill at the High Lord’s request. A quick and bloody affair, to the gaidar’s immaculate victory.

Light.

Nythadri paled, but couldn’t voice her suspicions. They were too dangerous. And surely too impossible. Daryen’s own sister was Aes Sedai. The Tower would never have allowed an Accepted into such danger as she now began to contemplate.

One thing was plain, though. Whatever Daryen had planned, and whatever the Tower’s true place in it, she knew for certain he’d keep Jai in the dark. And when Jai was in the dark he invariably stumbled towards the cliffedge.

“This ceremony, when is it supposed to take place?”

Did she even have time to get there? She half scraped the heavy chair back, hands braced on the table to rise. The tea still in her dainty cup sloshed the sides, but she paid the inelegance no mind. Her face narrowed into stillness, a well practised emptiness. Dark hair fell over her shoulder. Her jaw drew tight; she was already making calculations. Ellomai watched her rise. Nythadri thought there was sympathy in the woman’s kind eyes then, but it only burned like acid in her stomach to witness.

“Unless you plan to defy the Amyrlin’s will – and I would not suggest it, Nythadri – then you are too late now. You must wait.”

She stood the rest of the way, too restless to allow herself the stillness of a defeat implied. A quick pace took her to the windows, where beyond the carved, high-cresting arches bright sunlight coaxed colourful plants in the small garden beyond, oblivious to the way her world was slowly burning. She closed her eyes against it. The Amyrlin’s will be damned. She ought to go anyway.

After a moment she glanced back at Ellomai, but did not voice the temerity. She folded her arms and turned her attention resolutely away. There was one more thing she must know. “How does the Tower truly fare, Ellomai? I’m almost afraid to ask. I’ve heard ill tidings.”

She heard the Green sigh quietly behind her.

Then it was why Kaydrienne had faltered. It had to be. Talin was right.

The Tower really was crumbling.