Finn appraised the distance between himself and Alrim with a critical eye. He certainly had not put half the street between them, but conversation would certainly be easier if he were closer. His new acquaintance might be lying, but...truly, a few steps would not make that much difference. Carefully avoiding acknowledging what he was doing in any way, the Seanchan warrior took two measured steps closer.
As he continued to speak, Finn could not help but compare the Westlander to Kimuko. His old drill instructor had had odd ideas, or so his other masters had claimed. No matter how odd,the grizzled old soldier found worth in every new recruit, guiding, instructing, and pushing them forward until they achieved greater skill than they had believed possible. He had said odd things about threats and swords as well. A slight smile crossed the young man’s face and he stood a little taller at the memory, but his companion soon brought him back to the present.
“The Court of the Nine Moons has better agents than I, should the Empress, may she-” he cut off. It was less about the indiscretion regarding his country’s abilities as it was realizing, once again, that he had abandoned that life forever. A headsman’s axe was the best he had to hope for should he return. “I would not be the one they send,” he corrected himself, his voice measured and steady. “I am clumsy with words and awkward with strangers. Poor material for a spy, don’t you think?” His wry smile could not be feigned.
Alrim continued to speak, and Finn listened quietly, at least for a time. The White Tower or the Black? Better to go to Shayol Ghul itself! The thought had an edge of hysteria he did not like. The soldier clamped his lips shut and walked in silence for some time after the Westlander finished speaking. Dark eyes studied first the ground, then the buildings to either side, anything to avoid looking at the glass tower ahead. It had to be better than the other options presented. I will ask my questions and then I will leave, he told himself with firm resolution he did not truly feel.
Eventually he grunted and looked at Alrim. “It is a generous offer,” he said. “I have heard that this Tower trains men and women to fight for them, is that what you mean me to do?”
When he turned to look ahead, he realized they had nearly reached the gates. He could no longer see the top of the tower, only the long, tree-lined boulevard leading up to it. People in clothing both fine and work-ready hurried along the white marble path, apparently oblivious to anything but their own business. He saw a dark-haired woman in pure white in their midst, and a slim, pale-haired man in stark black. Another man, tall and broad-shouldered, wore a cloak that seemed to disappear into the trees behind him; he hurried along next to a round woman in green who did not seem to walk so much as float. Beyond the crowd he could see a tall, arched door that led into the Tower itself. Light glinted off the glass walls even here, giving everything an odd, ethereal glow, as if they floated underwater.
“It is...not what I expected,” he whispered. Only when he spoke did he realize he had stopped short as he stared. For once, he could not make himself care overmuch what the other man thought. “Channelers will break the world," he reiterated. "That’s what they told me. They have to be collared or they will destroy us down to the youngest babe. Have to be!” he inched closer to the gate, mind unwilling, but heart more hopeful than he dared admit.
“How can it all be a lie?” He blurted finally, swinging around to face his companion. Their eyes met for the first time; Finn wet his lips, but did not look away. “Do they really live here in peace, Alrim? If they do, I- I-” He could not find the words. A child-faced Meilen ran through his mind again, giggling as she blew flower fluff in his face, and he thought his heart might crack in two right there in the middle of the road.
"If it is true, if you can prove it is true, I will accept your kind offer." He said finally.
As he continued to speak, Finn could not help but compare the Westlander to Kimuko. His old drill instructor had had odd ideas, or so his other masters had claimed. No matter how odd,the grizzled old soldier found worth in every new recruit, guiding, instructing, and pushing them forward until they achieved greater skill than they had believed possible. He had said odd things about threats and swords as well. A slight smile crossed the young man’s face and he stood a little taller at the memory, but his companion soon brought him back to the present.
“The Court of the Nine Moons has better agents than I, should the Empress, may she-” he cut off. It was less about the indiscretion regarding his country’s abilities as it was realizing, once again, that he had abandoned that life forever. A headsman’s axe was the best he had to hope for should he return. “I would not be the one they send,” he corrected himself, his voice measured and steady. “I am clumsy with words and awkward with strangers. Poor material for a spy, don’t you think?” His wry smile could not be feigned.
Alrim continued to speak, and Finn listened quietly, at least for a time. The White Tower or the Black? Better to go to Shayol Ghul itself! The thought had an edge of hysteria he did not like. The soldier clamped his lips shut and walked in silence for some time after the Westlander finished speaking. Dark eyes studied first the ground, then the buildings to either side, anything to avoid looking at the glass tower ahead. It had to be better than the other options presented. I will ask my questions and then I will leave, he told himself with firm resolution he did not truly feel.
Eventually he grunted and looked at Alrim. “It is a generous offer,” he said. “I have heard that this Tower trains men and women to fight for them, is that what you mean me to do?”
When he turned to look ahead, he realized they had nearly reached the gates. He could no longer see the top of the tower, only the long, tree-lined boulevard leading up to it. People in clothing both fine and work-ready hurried along the white marble path, apparently oblivious to anything but their own business. He saw a dark-haired woman in pure white in their midst, and a slim, pale-haired man in stark black. Another man, tall and broad-shouldered, wore a cloak that seemed to disappear into the trees behind him; he hurried along next to a round woman in green who did not seem to walk so much as float. Beyond the crowd he could see a tall, arched door that led into the Tower itself. Light glinted off the glass walls even here, giving everything an odd, ethereal glow, as if they floated underwater.
“It is...not what I expected,” he whispered. Only when he spoke did he realize he had stopped short as he stared. For once, he could not make himself care overmuch what the other man thought. “Channelers will break the world," he reiterated. "That’s what they told me. They have to be collared or they will destroy us down to the youngest babe. Have to be!” he inched closer to the gate, mind unwilling, but heart more hopeful than he dared admit.
“How can it all be a lie?” He blurted finally, swinging around to face his companion. Their eyes met for the first time; Finn wet his lips, but did not look away. “Do they really live here in peace, Alrim? If they do, I- I-” He could not find the words. A child-faced Meilen ran through his mind again, giggling as she blew flower fluff in his face, and he thought his heart might crack in two right there in the middle of the road.
"If it is true, if you can prove it is true, I will accept your kind offer." He said finally.