The Third Age
Continued From The Gift and the Pledge
Sitter of the Red Ajah
In the far north of the ocean was called the Dead Sea. It was far from the lifelessness of a corpse, but so named for the casualties it incurred. The Atha’an Miere had maps that chartered as far as their ships could sail. Enormous ice caps ended voyages north. She once poured over those maps, inquiring after the tales of the destination. She never beheld the ice walls herself, but she had sailed far enough north to see the ice floats for herself. When enormous chunks of ice broke away and floated on the currents, they made for the most dangerous of headings, hiding bulbous undermounts and jags sharp enough to rip a ship apart. The first time she saw the spire of ice bobbing up and down, piercing the surface of the sea like a knife, she did not think it was so bad. Then the Windfinders upturned its shape so to sweep it out of their heading and the wide underbelly was revealed, like a toothy cragfish intent to swallow them whole, she was terrified. The lesson was learned, too. Not to trust only what was seen on the surface.
That was how she felt when she was forced to deal with the men who channeled. She never trusted what they hid below the skin. She could not sense nor see saidin, not for all the ter’angreal in the White Tower. How she wished she could create such an object. Her life would be decidedly easier as if she could see beneath the surface of the waves and avoid an icy death.
Lacking one useful object of the power did not mean she lacked in others. The Red Ajah signaled secrets like doves, and it was a white stone dove that she picked up to examine just then. The eyes were black beads, but the wings moved on hinges. She did not push them back, not yet, and instead re-read the page an open ledger on her desk.
It was an accounting of the Tower’s holdings of the Objects of Power; what were officially on record, anyway. The Reds managed their security, an extremely important task, but Kekura felt their Ajah was wasted on bookkeeping better suited to Browns. She wanted to protect the world of errant channelers, and tie them to the White Tower as they should. Being Atha’an Miere, she might once have protested to such a claim on independence, but ties to the Tower did not mean deference. There were three groups in the world she was going to prioritize when she was Amyrlin. The Seanchan topped that list. The army of the Dark One, dreadlords, came next. Then they had to investigate these tales of the people beyond the Aiel Waste. With the rediscovery of Traveling, an army of mad channelers could flood the land over night. If that happened, the White Tower would be utterly unprepared. They knew next to nothing about the people of the far east. Even her own people kept to their ships when taking port in Shara. The Mistress of the Ships would see reason when she found an Amyrlin Seat came from her own people. So many priorities. For now, the ledger contained a very important line that was going to play an important role in this night’s unfolding situation. The Oath Rod had disappeared from right under Kaydrienne’s grasp. That or the Blue had it smuggled out. Either way was just as bad.
The moment she felt the glimmer of the One Power, Kekura swept from her study and came into the main suite of her quarters. She glanced at the two women speaking quietly over tea as she entered. Her gaze was haughty, she was aware, but it was deserved. She had promised this would happen, and now her providence proved right, she stood to meet it head on.
The Asha’man filled the round of the gateway, casting it swirling light upon his face. In the background, she glimpsed Lythia, but only barely. The Sitters at her side would not have been able to see the Green. Kekura bid that he enter. When he did, he would find the White Tower as it always stood. Her particular quarters had a few silks draping its edges, but the furniture was sparse as it was for all Sisters.
The gateway rolled away after he passed through. The two Sitters in her company were nonplussed by what Kekura invited into her quarters, though they had not been prepped on who exactly would be coming. There was the risk that none would at all, but Kekura believed the Wheel wove as it willed, and that this was the will of the pattern. Kekura did conceal a sigh of relief, though. Much depended on this man.
She nodded her head upon his introduction, but it was only a small measure of respect. At her side, the Sitters were still as the namesake of the Sea. His was not a famous name among the Black Tower so much as Kekura knew, nor was he a player of power that courts recognized and rulers greeted - save one.
He was remarkably formal, Kekura thought with great approval. When last she saw him it was at the graves of Moiridrosin, where the families of Tar Valon often buried their departed in the earth. She knew enough that he was of that line of people. Hailing from the city itself. It was why he would have such great faith in the White Tower and seek answers here, or so she had hoped when she laid the letter on the hillside.
“I am Kekura Sedai. This is Esenya Sedai and Reloane Sedai,” she gestured to the two women nearby.
“I am aware you are put in a difficult position, Asha’man Kojima,” she said. She invited him in, though he did not seem like the sort to want to sit and speak. It felt strangely tense to stay on their feet. Kekura was the first to sit, and with it, the two Sitters deferred and followed. Of the three, she was the strongest in the One Power, although the Hall had traditions that may overrule such considerations. Neither Sitter came close to it, though. They would follow her lead in custom, but it was her goal that they follow her designs by vote.
Reloane spoke first. Perhaps it was a sign of the Gray’s eagerness to determine which side of the law she was going to take.
“You are assigned to the palace at Bandar Eban, are you not?”
There were other questions that followed. Simply wanting to hear for themselves that the Asha’man was who he claimed to be.
How long have you been there? Did you attend the signing of the treaty today? Who else was attended? Were there sul’dam and damane?
Kekura let them speak. She only participated when she felt the need to guide the conversation to the matter at hand or redirect the Asha’man should his impulses tear him away. At the graves, she saw the madness in him, but tonight, he was as calm as the Sitters. Perhaps she had misjudged.