The sunlight filtered down through the scarlet branches in the Gardens of the Grey Tower. The autumnal air was crisp as Velvaen took a deep breath and rose, giving her dress a quick once-over to check for grime. Novice standards were overly excessive, sometimes. After all, a little dirt never hurt anyone! Turning, she surveyed her handiwork. The stonework path, which had been choked with layers of fallen leaves only an hour ago, was as clear as a summer sky. Finished, finally! She allowed herself a small smile.
Something I can finish, at least. That thought gave her a frown, and recalled her most recent class. She had spent the whole period grasping at Saidar, discomfort growing like itchweed in a thicket–especially as the other Novices were lighting candles all around faster than a village woman on Winternight. Would she ever get past this blasted block? How would she ever become Accepted if she couldn’t touch the Source?
Velvaen reached down and picked up her broom glumly, then began making her way out of the Gardens. At least I have History, soon. Now, that topic was worthwhile. And rather exciting, she admitted to herself. They talked about everything–from the various titles the nobility used, to what battles were fought during the Trolloc Wars–and, what’s more, all of it took not an ounce of Saidar!
As she made her way down the newly-cleared path, movement in a nearby bed of flowers caught her eye. She hesitated, then moved closer to investigate. A young girl–lacking Novice white–was kneeling among the blossoms, and appeared to be trying to choose between them. She was fair, with hair of light-brown and a spot marking her right cheek. What was a commoner girl doing in the Tower Gardens? Then the girl looked up and met Velvaen’s eyes with her own pair of bluish gray. Velvaen blinked, then raised a hand and gave her a small wave.
•