The Point of No Return

[Natalie Grey]

Esenya Sedai
Sitter for the Yellow Ajah

He answered Reloane’s questions efficiently, and Esenya watched him the entire time. Kojima sat straight-backed. He remained calm. He spoke clearly and confidently.

He told them Daryen Daimon was caught between the Towers, and the suggestion threatened a frown she did not indulge, though she did turn her dark eyes to Kekura. Was he saying that the M’hael had sanctioned this heinous act? Relations between the White and Black Towers had been favourable since Kaydrienne’s own brother Michael Whiteraven, but a great many men had held the title since then. Esenya was loath to think of the Mother involved in such a conspiracy. Perhaps the withdrawal was a tactic disapproval of Daimon’s own poor practices, condoned by his own foolish brothers. But then why was a gaidar there at all? What hold did the Asha’man king have that pushed Trista’s feet with such slow intention as was described? Esenya knew the shape of an answer to that, but she did not like it.

A plot of such nature was a very serious matter. The potential involvement of the M’hael was not something she had considered, and yet should it be true, it was worrying. The Black Tower ought to be arming itself for Tarmon Gai’don, not interfering with the politics of nations. An Asha’man for a king had been a dangerous choice; she had thought it at the time, and she thought it again vehemently now. It had given them ideas. Elayne would not be so utterly witless.

Perhaps a Red Amyrlin would be sensible, in those circumstances.

For a moment Esenya considered her position. And Kekura’s intentions. The Greens and Whites were absent, which perhaps meant the Red Sitter was assured of their support already. The Blues would have no say in the matter, and the Browns had Daryen’s own sister among their Sitters. She wondered how Reloane’s opinion was forming. The Gray asked a great many questions, but her serene decorum did not give much away as to her judgement.

She held the Asha’man’s gaze. He implied the White Tower was poised to abandon Arad Doman entirely. That this treaty was a gateway to Seanchan practises on their very shores. A very dangerous accusation. One that bristled.

“You were wise to come to us,” she assured. Servant of all. Perhaps he did remember then. “We are indeed Servants of all.” Esenya’s face was serious. It did not contain an ounce of warmth, and yet it was the very foundation of strength. “You must be plain, Asha’man. We do not need to know what is assumed or what you think. Do you mean to tell us the king of Arad Doman has sold a gaidar of the White Tower?”