The Familial Mutt

[Eidolon]

Malaika

It was something of a shock to return from lessons with Dayanne Sedai on the art of Travelling the next day to find one Kasimir Nevaren sprawled out on her sofa. She had never gotten into the practice of locking her door - the idea of property was still raw and new to her - and apart from servants she didn't usually have visitors... and certainly not ones who let themselves in. Quelling any concerns over this impromptu visitor - what, the Light forbid, if it had been someone who meant her harm? - she let the door close behind her with a little more force than normal.

The noise did its job.

Startled from his relaxed posture, Kasimir made some effort to look more polite - he took his feet off the table and her paperwork, at least, and smiled sheepishly. "I didn't think you'd mind, Aes Sedai, being fami--"

She waved her hand, slipping a wool shawl of cream and gold (not her ajah one) onto the back of a chair. He shut his mouth quite promptly, but regarded her with black, intent eyes as though she were a viper that might strike at any moment. Truthfully, she was surprised he had come back all, for when she had seen him off yesterday with instructions that they would speak again, she had half expected him to disappear and never return. Or at least be late.

"There could have been wards on the door. You might have been hurt," she said, settling in to her favourite chair by the hearth. The words had more impact than she'd intended, because he went quite pale at the thought. He fears channelers she reminded herself. And yet he was still here.

"I ..."

Kasimir scrubbed a hand through his hair. He still looked tired after a night's rest, but then he had been travelling the road for weeks, and with a head full of burdens to fret over. Malaika softened. No harm had been done after all. Rather that he had barged into her rooms than that of another sister's - and while he was here, at least he wasn't causing trouble elsewhere. After her talk with Eithne the previous evening, she had unearthed a little of why Kasimir had earned himself a gaidar escort to her rooms...

"Have you eaten? I don't suppose you've had time to acquaint yourself with the layout of the Tower yet..."

---

Once the food had arrived, Malaika realised that she was actually quite ravenous. She never intentionally skipped meals, but more often than not she was too wrapped up in her work to notice the needs of her body. When was the last time she had sat down for such good, hearty fare as this? Kasimir looked no less sincere in his appetite, so it was a while before either of them spoke.

Eventually, Malaika placed her empty soup bowl to the side, brushing a few of the crumbs scattered on her skirt. She'd thought a long time of what she intended to say, but was still unsure. In all her years, she had never felt responsible for another person, as she did now. A nephew. Light above, of all the complications. "If you plan to stay," she said, catching Kas' eye as she lifted a glass of water to her lips, "then the only thing I insist on is that you write your parents."

She had expected the way his expression grew suddenly solemn; a childish, sullen anger that could only be reaction to the thought of his father. "And where exactly would I even go? I won't go back there, and don't have so much as a copper bloody penny to my name." Abandoning his empty plate, he sat back and folded his arms. The muscles worked in his jaw, grinding his teeth, and his black eyes fell away from hers.

How can such a rift ever be fixed? Malaika supressed the urge to sigh, and reminded herself once more not to get involved; she would only complicate matters, and effort would only be a waste of precious time.

"I receive a monthly stipend. I would give you coin enough for your travels. But I will still write your parents, Kasimir," she warned. "They have a right to know where you are, that you are safe." That much she could do, though she doubted news that their son had come to Tar Valon would ease her removed family's mind.

Kasimir didn't speak, only glared down at his empty plate. Am I missing something? Malaika pursed her lips, and wondered why people had to be so ... difficult. I offer him passage to anywhere in the world, and he still sits there and sulks? He made no attempt to mask the emotions that flooded him, but she found that it only made him harder to understand. Light, I don't have the skill for this.

She stood, and his gaze snapped up. His expression was not so much anger as... worry? Apprehension? He sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I can stay, though? If I wanted to, I mean."

"Of course. You don't need permission from me."

He nodded, but his expression remained unusually pensive. "I know," he said softly. He stared at her for what seemed like a long while, as though waiting for her to speak. When she did not, he finally looked down, then got to his feet. Approval? Does he want approval? A welcome? Not more than a few months back he had been bundled in restraints of Air and blasting all Aes Sedai for witches. He'd come all this way looking for answers about Chakai - answers she didn't have - not to greet a long lost, and before recently unknown relative. Or had he? His family was not dead, just disgruntled with him, and he too stubborn to reconcile ... but he acted very much as though he thought himself alone.

And him a man grown, as well. She sighed softly. "Sit down, Kasimir, I will get us paper and a quill."

---

Kasimir dictated the letter while Malaika penned it. Her right hand was clumsy from nerve damage, but still neater and more legible than her left. It was not a long message, just enough to let Kasimir's parents know he was not dead in a ditch somewhere or otherwise in serious trouble. They would not be happy to learn that he had come to her in Tar Valon, but she imagined his mother at least would be relieved to learn he was alive and well. She thought briefly of sending her own letter along with this one, to write down the feelings Chakai had been so resistent to hearing, but it seemed a futile exercise. He would not read it.

She passed Kasimir the quill so that he could sign his name, standing from the desk to allow him room ... and, she supposed, a bit of privacy to add anything else he wished. While she waited she paced the small study and paused to draw the drapes and shut out the falling dark. What a long day. Her back ached, she realised, and her lengthy lesson with Dayanne had taken it out of her. A bath would not be unwelcome, but the hour was growing late and she was reluctant to bother the servants. She ran her hands through her hair and blinked back tiredness.

"You can leave the letter there to dry; I will arrange its delivery tomorrow." Pigeons would be useless since she had none trained to the Nevaren household, but the Brown Ajah had other, more reliable methods of long distance communication. It was one of the gifts every new sister received upon her raising. Actually, it might be wise to consult Eithne first, since it wasn't a weave she had tried before; she didn't want to damage the poor animal. "Make sure you stopper the ink, too," she added distractedly.

"You're a strange one, do you know that? Are all Aes Sedai so ... closed?"

"I'm... sorry?" She had moved to the doorway without thinking, and used saidar to light the sitting room beyond. Her thoughts had already begun to drift, and the words wrenched her prematurely back to reality. Such things always disorientated her a moment; she really wasn't used to company at all hours, especially in the evenings when usually she spent the time alone and her musings meandered uninterrupted. She turned back into the shadowed study where Kasimir stood in the gloom. His arms were folded.

The young man sighed and looked extremely frustrated. "Look, I'm curious, okay? All of a sudden I have this aunt I knew nothing about until a couple of months back, and I want to know about her. You act like you don't care, but you make me send some stupid letter home. And I can tell I irritate you or whatever, but you haven't told me to leave. I haven't got a clue what goes through your head. It would be nice to know where I stand."

"It's not... you're not..." Yes, actually, she did find him tiresome at times, and yes her life would be much simper if he had never turned up at her door. Her lips pursed. "I do not dislike you, Kasimir, I am simply ... unaccustomed to company." She gestured a hand to the lit room. "If we're going to talk, let's at least sit down. I've had a long day."

Kasimir

He followed the Aes Sedai to the sitting room in an agitated manner and flopped down in a chair without much grace. She took her usual chair, but sat rather stiffly, as though she were expecting an interrogation. Last night she had said she'd returned to see his father because of love, but looking at the sternness of her expression he wondered if that were really true. He'd heard the witc--Aes Sedai couldn't lie, but rumour spread many things and twisted more truths than it told pure. He wondered if he was just an obligation to her. A duty. But for all that she seemed tense this evening, there was also a softness to her. Not vulnerability, exactly, but something almost melancholy. Did he remind her of something bad? His mother had often said he took after his father in looks. He tried to recall some of the subtleties he had observed of their interactions in Ebou Dar, but all he really remembered clearly was the moment his father's knife had sliced through her hand. Guilt lowered his gaze.

He did not find himself entirely comfortable here, in the White Tower, for all his cool acting to the contrary, but the mistrust had begun to ebb away, with her at least. She was family, Aes Sedai or no, and pretty much the only thing he had unless he swallowed his pride and reconciled with his father. The realisation startled him. Family. He had tried to coax her into telling him he could stay earlier, though at the time his sullen, childish mood had blinded him as to why. He wanted to stay, but more importantly, he wanted her to want him to stay. She wasn't his father ... and yet, they were united in their rejection. He wanted her approval; he had known her all of five minutes, and he wanted her approval. Kas massaged his temples. Light, here a single day and already I am dancing to the the Aes Sedai's tune.

His temper had calmed, and where a moment before he had been angry at her, he felt sort of pensive now. I shouldn't have snapped. He bet she was just waiting to tell him to sod off to back to Ebou Dar or wherever else he cared to go. 'I don't dislike you,' she had said, which really didn't make him feel any better. And why should I bloody well care what the witch thinks? Light, but the woman had offered him free passage to anywhere in the world, and coin enough to start a new life - his wildest dreams, in fact, and suddenly all he wanted was to stay here, in Tar Valon, centre of all the world's troubles.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "I shouldn't have ... ah ... called you strange. And I didn't mean to snap. You just ... don't make it very easy for me to try and understand your point of view. I'm only a man, after all." Wait, was that a hint of smile? Or maybe the flickering play of lamplight, who knew? "I suppose you want to know why I just turned up here out of the blue, right? I'm not sure I even know myself. Shall we just call it the fault of the pattern?" He flashed a charming smile, but realised such things would probably have no effect on an Aes bloody Sedai. Black eyes flickered to the empty dishes on the table; he frowned. "And I know I said it before, but I really do mean it when I say I don't want to be a burden to you. But I do want to stay here, if you'll let me. Only if you'll let me."

He couldn't read her at all; her expressions were usually unemotive, and he noticed that she rarely smiled. She was not unfriendly, though, and there was a certain warmth in her demeanor that put him at ease. If she was going to send him away, at least she probably wouldn't do it as harshly and inexplicably as his father. Well, there it was then, his fate set free in the hands of the Tower, a place he'd never ever dreamed of willingly placing it. The Wheel Weaves and all that horsecrap.