Crimsonthorn

[Eidolon]

Malaika Sedai

She passed Tenuene in the hallway beyond Calathea’s door. The small dark-haired sister was wrapped in her shawl and offered a subdued smile as she passed, eyes pensive. Malaika inclined her head in response, relieved the woman did not stop beyond that. Tenuene was quieter than most, a considered and astute Brown whom Malaika never much minded sharing a study space with, but grief was a wedge between herself and her sisters she was increasingly finding herself avoiding. The burden of sharing consolations only tightened up her chest, burning it all too real. Inescapably so. It made her wonder how the Kojimas must have felt when she returned their son’s blade.

The Accepted knocked for her, but did not pause for an answer, simply opening the door and gesturing Malaika within – presumably as she had been instructed. She had already bobbed a curtsy and hurried to her business before Malaika had so much as set a foot upon the threshold. Her arrival interrupted mid-conversation those within, and it did not stop on Malaika’s account as she quietly clicked the door behind her. The Aes Sedai were industriously involved in their discussion: Arymis, with her braid-bound puff of blonde hair, was neatly transcribing into a ledger, while iron-haired Fiad reclined with a steaming cup of tea as she considered Sivia’s proclamation that it was “--too early to hear from Liridia, and too early to yet worry.”

“That’s as it may, but how will he react once he hears the news? Light send Larnair keeps a better command on his boys this time. And not a word from Yui?”

“This could go very poorly,” Arymis agreed above the curl of her quill.

“And with a Red at the helm now?” Fiad clicked her tongue and sipped her tea.

Calathea paced by the unlit fireplace, absorbed in a note held aloft in one hand. Her eyes flickered up, but she said nothing, just pursed her lips back at the paper. Her gold-brown curls were half-pinned, the rest tumbled down her back unfinished, and a heavy robe adorned her shoulders, lace spilling at the elbow. Perfectly demure, yet Malaika suspected it was a house-robe, and Calathea had been orchestrating the Council’s crisis meetings since before even sparing the time to get fully dressed.

“Welcome, Malaika dear. There is repast on the dresser over there.” Her free hand made a gesture, yet her gaze moved up with a warm empathy that cast Malaika’s attention away. Plates and trays did indeed adorn a sideboard, mostly untouched. She was not hungry, but she lingered over pouring herself tea anyway, uncertain of her place here. Meanwhile, Calathea moved to behind Arymis’ shoulder, and laid the note before her. “I trust our Ajah will continue to stand behind Daryen, as ever it has,” she said.

After a moment the other Aes Sedai’s eyes widened around the edges. Her quill had stopped moving, and she looked first at Sivia, then at Fiad.

“Thea,” she said, but Calathea only squeezed her shoulder and straightened.

“Discuss it a moment while I speak with our sister. I must finish getting dressed if I am to keep to my appointment.”

---

Calathea’s maid shut the doors to her dressing room once they were within, and the murmuring conversation of the Browns diminished. Malaika made no effort to listen, and she stood just far enough away to make it clear. Her hands clasped softly onto one another, and she watched quietly as Calathea seated herself at the vanity. With thoughtful concentration, the maid swept past and began pinning up the rest of the Aes Sedai’s curls.

“Unfortunately, some occasions call for formality.” As she spoke, Calathea watched Malaika through her large gilt mirror, and while it was an inscrutable look, it was not an unkind one. She had stood on the Council longer than Malaika had been alive, yet she was not a sister Malaika knew well beyond a general understanding that she was both warm and unusually worldly for a Brown. Watching her for those few moments amongst the others, she began to consider that Calathea might pull far more strings in the Ajah than she had ever been given credit for, despite never sitting in the Hall. “More than I would naturally like. But we must choose who we are – or at least how we wish to be seen. Rhadamanthus would have laughed at me, though.”

Malaika did not look at her own reflection; her black hair loose, her cheeks hollow, her eyes tired. She did not keep a maid of her own, having no need for the assistance nor the gossip. Brenna often extolled the virtues of her girl Daniol, but Malaika preferred the familiar comfort of her solitude. She had been surprised to miss Kasimir when she returned him home, for all his loud exuberance, yet even that had not changed the habit. If Calathea was making such a comment, it would fall on deaf ears, though she at least considered that it might be prudent to better conceal the evidence of her mourning from her appearance.

“It was not an admonishment, sister. At least not to anyone but myself. It is always wise to remember who we are beneath it all. Ring and shawl and all, no?” She smiled a little, but did not pause in the expectation of a response; fortunate, since Malaika did little more than absorb the words. She was not sure she truly had that understanding of herself, even after all these years, but it was a humility that put her at ease. A release from judgement – or any but her own at least.

“I wanted you to know that your work with Brenna Sedai will be put to good use. None of us could have foreseen the great toll to be taken on our Ajah -- I do not like to see the divide it causes, and it grieves me that we must act so decisively now as to appear unfeeling over our loss. Which was why I wished to speak to you personally. Fate Sedai was a mentor to you. As was Eithne.”

“I accept my duty, sister. If that is what you are asking me.” She spoke her answer carefully. For all the conflicts inside, and for all the way she felt recently unrooted, she never considered anything else. Her life was an expenditure she gave willingly, and if she felt guilt or shame for any of her choices, those were personal afflictions. Her loyalty remained, as it ever would -- to the Ajah, and to the White Tower.