Bryn groaned slightly as she made her way from the Library, preparing to head back to the Novice Hall. Her back ached after having to lug very heavy volumes back and forth from the Library during her chore times. Much like the book she carried now. A tome on the Battle of the Lights and the ensuing conflict around it, as officially recorded.
And that was just her normal chore time, as the Brown Aes Sedai who had laid talons into the redheaded Novice had claimed her.
The penance the Mistress of Novices had handed down from on high for running away was much more grueling, such that she didn't want to think about it.
Bryn Riverstone Walker had been back in the Tower for nearly a week now, and she hadn't had a chance to breath. What little free time she had was now taken up by chores. Her lessons came hard and it appeared she was being singled out and drilled.
No one apparently liked a runaway, no matter the justification.
At least her Novice dresses fit properly now. The bloody garment had never quite fit her figure in the past.
At just two inches shy of six feet, most might have mistaken Bryn for an Aiel, if not for a few subtle differences. Her otherwise curly red-gold hair was done up in a single braid and her gold-green eyes held a deep intelligence. Her slender form moved with a delicate grace, as if expecting to dart at a moment's notice. In days past, when she had lived in Cosamelle, men had a hard time averting their eyes; most had trouble looking above her neck until she swatted them.
She didn't look a day past 20, despite the decade that had passed since she returned here. Or was rather unceremoniously dumped back here.
What few friends she had made here were either gone, Raised or moved on from this place. She recalled one Novice whom would have kept her here if not for the news that had caused her to up and vanish.
Memories flooded her mind, ones that made her tingle and face redden slightly. Ones that had caused Bryn to cry herself to sleep at night at times for more than two years.
And then there were the dreams. Light, but the last week she had seen flashes, ones so intense that she swore might mean something. She had only begun to explore that when she had left the Tower, and now she had regrets for doing so. During her time away, there had been times when she sought to avoid dreaming by drinking way too much wine.
It only worked once and her splitting head was over the privy the next morning.
Bryn pushed the memories from her mind as she looked at the book. Idly she flipped through the pages, and her eyes landed on one passage in particular.
Among the heroes of the Light, who defended against the Whitecloaks and later the Fiery Serpent were then-Dedicated Jerid Walker, who defended the still unfinished city of Hama Valon from the Dreadlords …
Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the name, and the rendering of the man. It held a brief list of his accomplishments during the struggle.
“Well, if it isn't the little savage returned to the Tower after so long,” a familiar voice said dead ahead. It was one that sent alarm through Bryn, enough that she looked up to see a flaming fool in front of her.
Dedicated Jonath Cerwyn had not changed one bit in the last decade. He was lanky, two fingers shorter than her. His black hair dull and his sunken brown eyes had a dull, lifeless intelligence to them. He had a strong chin, but his lips were thin and curved in a sneer. He leered at her and she was suddenly on edge.
She recalled all too well an incident 10 years ago, in these very halls, when she had made a fool of him. And kneed him.
“Dedicated Jonclynn,” she said automatically, almost on instinct. Then she silently cursed herself. Exactly like 10 years ago.
Only his response was much simpler this time. She felt an invisible force cross her face, almost like a slap. It was enough to sting, not bruise.
The man had channeled. At her. Her blood boiled now.
“It's Jonath, you milk-brained savage,” the man sneered, his voice cracking slightly. The man called himself an Andoran noble, but he swore and spoke like a commoner. The egos of some men.
But he was fast, and was approaching her, one hand reaching behind him. Like 10 years ago, the man would likely pull a knife on her.
Three options: Run, fight back or channel. All three would likely end in punishment.
The book slammed the man in the face with such a ferocity that he staggered against the wall in a shout of surprise.
She bolted, her hands still clenching the now bloodstained book.
Bryn rounded a corner, only to stop short when she ran into another woman. She only had a glimpse of the woman (a stunner part of her thought).
She saw a serpent ring and a simple white dress and immediately opened her mouth.
“Help ...”
Then she heard swearing.
“Come back here, you savage Aiel lightskirt,” the man shouted. He wasn't being discrete about it. “When I'm finished with you, you'll wish you had never crawled out of your mother's belly ...”
That was the final straw. She rounded, saidar flowing inside of her by its own accord. She knew enough to set the man on fire. She wasn't thinking any more.
“That flaming white-livered son of a goat, I swear …” was all she muttered.
Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
-
Bridget
- "Lord of Chaos"
- Posts: 340
- Joined: October 2nd, 2014, 4:57 am
- PC: Haxia do Catalan a'Coralle
Re: Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Rhykana could not help but stagger as the tall, red haired novice barreled right into her. Instinctively, she reached out to steady the girl, a scolding already on her tongue. But the girl’s words and the Dedicated racing around the corner halted her tongue. Help? What did a girl have to fear from a man in the Grey Tower?
The vitriol that spewed from the man’s mouth made her grow cold with icy fury. But there was no time to dwell, not as the glow of saidar surrounded the girl, threads of Fire- Rhykana reacted without thought, embracing the source and weaving a heavy ward of Earth and Water between the girl and the Dedicated. It sprang into being just in time to absorb the ball of flames that the child had sent hurtling at the foul-mouthed little bastard. Quickly, just to be sure, she shielded the girl. It was obvious the novice would be stronger than she in a few years, but the girl was still untrained. The shield would hold, though perhaps not as long as she’d like if the novice tried to fight it. “If you try to break that shield and channel, I will have you strapped.” She said in a low voice, staring into the novice’s face.
Then bloom of red on the girl’s check caught her eye, and her fury burned anew. Rhykana wove another ward of Air, quicker than the Dedicated could reach them, around her and the girl. He would have to fight her to get through, and that would certainly catch a great deal of intention. “Jonath,” she started, her tone cold enough to freeze, “Did you just have the audacity to strike a novice? The Master of Soldiers will have your hide.” It was not an observation, but a threat. She fully intended to see him punished. She had never lied to Illyria, although her disdain had always been clear, and Rhykana was quite certain that the Mistress of Novices would believe her about the outrageous events currently unfolding.
She would not allow any man to take such liberties with a woman. Never again, not after what had been done to her and her sister. Not after the horrible things she had allowed to occur in her Arches. The memory of that first Arch had not faded, not even in three years. Rhykana breathed harshly, her hands curled up into fists at her sides.
“Do not think that you will escape punishment.” Rhykana commented in a low voice to the novice beside her. “What were you thinking? Attacking a Dedicated with saidar was idiotic, no matter how unpleasant he may be.” No matter how much she burned to have him under her Compulsion, to have him under her knife. A man that would strike and chase a woman was not a man who deserved to live. But this was not the time for her particular brand of retribution. It was not yet the time.
The vitriol that spewed from the man’s mouth made her grow cold with icy fury. But there was no time to dwell, not as the glow of saidar surrounded the girl, threads of Fire- Rhykana reacted without thought, embracing the source and weaving a heavy ward of Earth and Water between the girl and the Dedicated. It sprang into being just in time to absorb the ball of flames that the child had sent hurtling at the foul-mouthed little bastard. Quickly, just to be sure, she shielded the girl. It was obvious the novice would be stronger than she in a few years, but the girl was still untrained. The shield would hold, though perhaps not as long as she’d like if the novice tried to fight it. “If you try to break that shield and channel, I will have you strapped.” She said in a low voice, staring into the novice’s face.
Then bloom of red on the girl’s check caught her eye, and her fury burned anew. Rhykana wove another ward of Air, quicker than the Dedicated could reach them, around her and the girl. He would have to fight her to get through, and that would certainly catch a great deal of intention. “Jonath,” she started, her tone cold enough to freeze, “Did you just have the audacity to strike a novice? The Master of Soldiers will have your hide.” It was not an observation, but a threat. She fully intended to see him punished. She had never lied to Illyria, although her disdain had always been clear, and Rhykana was quite certain that the Mistress of Novices would believe her about the outrageous events currently unfolding.
She would not allow any man to take such liberties with a woman. Never again, not after what had been done to her and her sister. Not after the horrible things she had allowed to occur in her Arches. The memory of that first Arch had not faded, not even in three years. Rhykana breathed harshly, her hands curled up into fists at her sides.
“Do not think that you will escape punishment.” Rhykana commented in a low voice to the novice beside her. “What were you thinking? Attacking a Dedicated with saidar was idiotic, no matter how unpleasant he may be.” No matter how much she burned to have him under her Compulsion, to have him under her knife. A man that would strike and chase a woman was not a man who deserved to live. But this was not the time for her particular brand of retribution. It was not yet the time.
Re: Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Bryn felt the Source being wrenched away from her as the barrier slid into place. And her eyes widened at the ramifications of what she had done.
"Light ... I didn't ...," she stammered in surprise. She inclined her head in mortified understanding of the Accepted's words. Less than a week in the Tower and she had bloody nearly killed a man because her emotions got the best of her.
Jonath, likewise, had been surprised by the ball of fire. The glint of steel he had in his right hand, however, vanished quickly behind his back.
He shrewdly evaluated the Accepted. People knew Rhykana, or least knew what she was about. Jonath had been smart enough to steer clear of her, had been ordered to, in fact.
But with his prize so near and his blood running hot, he ignored common sense.
"That savage Aiel wilder bastard attacked me with that book! She deserves to be punished by her betters ... "
He hit the Ward with a grunt and nearly thought better of pushing.
"My name is Bryn Riverstone Walker, not Aiel savage," Bryn said sharply, her Ghealdanin accent thick. She nearly reached for saidar but gripped the book tightly instead, trying to calm down. She might be able to break through it, but wasn't willing to risk more punishment. "And I will gladly accept punishment by my betters as soon as I find one aside from the Accepted."
He attempted to rush, and saw the Ward ripple slightly. Was he trying to cut through?
"You flaming fool!" Bryn shouted in disbelief. The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Light but she wanted to pounce on him, but she was unsure if the Ward separating her and the Accepted from the crazed Dedicated kept her in as well. "Are you trying to get yourself locked in irons or are you just thick?!" In front of an Accepted no less.
She noticed then the Accepted's clenched fists, the cold demeanor, was clearly aware of the words the woman had spoken to Bryn. And got a look at her would-be savior. A part of Bryn actually noticed how stunning the woman was, could imagine the curves underneath the flaming Accepted dress. The other woman was shorter than Bryn. Her nose might have been a little larger than most, but it was those blue eyes that captured her attention.
Bryn's attention snapped back to the swearing Dedicated and she was fully aware of the Accepted's own anger.
This was not going to end well unless ... "With respect, Accepted," she said calmly, lowering her eyes, "I'll gladly go to Illyria Sedai's office and explain myself, but the Master of Soldiers may not get a chance to punish the Dedicated before the First Seeker has an opportunity to chat with him."
Her tone was serious, dead even. Underneath she knew it was a bluff. She did not even know if the man knew his daughter yet existed.
Jonath stopped moving, considering the thought very carefully. "I will see myself to the Master of Soldiers office for discipline," he said, turning slightly.
The words fell on deaf ears as Bryn considered what she had just said in front of two strangers. She shuddered visibly in front of the Accepted. Light, the thought of meeting him for the first time after all this ... Jonath was out of her mind as she nearly fell to the ground at the gravity of the situation, disoriented. The hall suddenly felt too confined.
"I ... I need air," she whispered. "Please ..."
"Light ... I didn't ...," she stammered in surprise. She inclined her head in mortified understanding of the Accepted's words. Less than a week in the Tower and she had bloody nearly killed a man because her emotions got the best of her.
Jonath, likewise, had been surprised by the ball of fire. The glint of steel he had in his right hand, however, vanished quickly behind his back.
He shrewdly evaluated the Accepted. People knew Rhykana, or least knew what she was about. Jonath had been smart enough to steer clear of her, had been ordered to, in fact.
But with his prize so near and his blood running hot, he ignored common sense.
"That savage Aiel wilder bastard attacked me with that book! She deserves to be punished by her betters ... "
He hit the Ward with a grunt and nearly thought better of pushing.
"My name is Bryn Riverstone Walker, not Aiel savage," Bryn said sharply, her Ghealdanin accent thick. She nearly reached for saidar but gripped the book tightly instead, trying to calm down. She might be able to break through it, but wasn't willing to risk more punishment. "And I will gladly accept punishment by my betters as soon as I find one aside from the Accepted."
He attempted to rush, and saw the Ward ripple slightly. Was he trying to cut through?
"You flaming fool!" Bryn shouted in disbelief. The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. Light but she wanted to pounce on him, but she was unsure if the Ward separating her and the Accepted from the crazed Dedicated kept her in as well. "Are you trying to get yourself locked in irons or are you just thick?!" In front of an Accepted no less.
She noticed then the Accepted's clenched fists, the cold demeanor, was clearly aware of the words the woman had spoken to Bryn. And got a look at her would-be savior. A part of Bryn actually noticed how stunning the woman was, could imagine the curves underneath the flaming Accepted dress. The other woman was shorter than Bryn. Her nose might have been a little larger than most, but it was those blue eyes that captured her attention.
Bryn's attention snapped back to the swearing Dedicated and she was fully aware of the Accepted's own anger.
This was not going to end well unless ... "With respect, Accepted," she said calmly, lowering her eyes, "I'll gladly go to Illyria Sedai's office and explain myself, but the Master of Soldiers may not get a chance to punish the Dedicated before the First Seeker has an opportunity to chat with him."
Her tone was serious, dead even. Underneath she knew it was a bluff. She did not even know if the man knew his daughter yet existed.
Jonath stopped moving, considering the thought very carefully. "I will see myself to the Master of Soldiers office for discipline," he said, turning slightly.
The words fell on deaf ears as Bryn considered what she had just said in front of two strangers. She shuddered visibly in front of the Accepted. Light, the thought of meeting him for the first time after all this ... Jonath was out of her mind as she nearly fell to the ground at the gravity of the situation, disoriented. The hall suddenly felt too confined.
"I ... I need air," she whispered. "Please ..."
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
-
Bridget
- "Lord of Chaos"
- Posts: 340
- Joined: October 2nd, 2014, 4:57 am
- PC: Haxia do Catalan a'Coralle
Re: Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Rhykana curled her fists as the bastard slammed into her ward. Jonath was a fool to think that he could break through with simple force; she was not a silly novice, and she knew her way around wards. Her ward would ripple and push back if he tried hard enough, but he would not get through without the aid of the One Power. Still, she wove another ward, this one of Air and Spirit, behind the first ward. Rhykana managed the complicated tangles of Air, threaded with thin strands of Spirit, as quickly as she could. It was a more difficult ward than her first, but would prevent any person from passing through.
She watched in baffled anger as the two shouted at each other, equally incomprehensible. She had half a mind to simply bash their heads together and leave them be, but Jonath had struck the girl. That was not something she could tolerate, unlike the petty insults that flew between them.
And the girl’s comment to her made very little sense as well. Rhykana favored her with a sharp look. The First Seeker? What did the fool girl have to with the Indigo Ajah? But somehow, it was enough to cause the fool Dedicated to turn away. Rhykana watched his receding figure, holding her wards tight, and ignoring the shaking girl next to her, until he vanished around the corner.
When Jonath was gone, Rhykana released her wards, but not the shield that cut the girl off from saidar. If she had her way, the fool would not be allowed to channel for months. To attack a Dedicated with the One Power! It was obvious that the child did not yet have true skill with the One Power, and it was just as obvious that she would not know what to do if she did manage to hurt him, or light forbid, kill the bastard. The girl needed a lesson in how to properly fight her battles.
“Yes, yes.” Rhykana said to the girl, hauling on her arm and dragging her down the hall. “We’ll stop in the gardens for a moment, but then we must go straight to the Mistress of Novices.” It should be safe to take a moment to calm the girl down. Illyria no doubt knew that Rhykana had no respect for her, but that did not mean that she would not trust Rhykana's word. Even if Jonath’s version of the events in the hall did reach Illyria before the truth, the woman would listen.
Or, at least she would listen for as long as the mark remained on the girl’s face. When they reached the gardens, Rhykana guided the child to a seat on a bench, and tilted her chin up to the light with one hand. The mark was still there, but it was not likely to bruise. They would have to leave soon, then, so that Illyria could see it and understand what had truly happened. Or, of course, if the girl took too long to calm, they could always… freshen the mark. The girl would be punished by Illyria no matter what, but Jonath's own punishment was very much in question.
“I am Rhykana.” She told the girl, taking the seat next to you. “What was that nonsense I just witnessed in the hallway?”
She watched in baffled anger as the two shouted at each other, equally incomprehensible. She had half a mind to simply bash their heads together and leave them be, but Jonath had struck the girl. That was not something she could tolerate, unlike the petty insults that flew between them.
And the girl’s comment to her made very little sense as well. Rhykana favored her with a sharp look. The First Seeker? What did the fool girl have to with the Indigo Ajah? But somehow, it was enough to cause the fool Dedicated to turn away. Rhykana watched his receding figure, holding her wards tight, and ignoring the shaking girl next to her, until he vanished around the corner.
When Jonath was gone, Rhykana released her wards, but not the shield that cut the girl off from saidar. If she had her way, the fool would not be allowed to channel for months. To attack a Dedicated with the One Power! It was obvious that the child did not yet have true skill with the One Power, and it was just as obvious that she would not know what to do if she did manage to hurt him, or light forbid, kill the bastard. The girl needed a lesson in how to properly fight her battles.
“Yes, yes.” Rhykana said to the girl, hauling on her arm and dragging her down the hall. “We’ll stop in the gardens for a moment, but then we must go straight to the Mistress of Novices.” It should be safe to take a moment to calm the girl down. Illyria no doubt knew that Rhykana had no respect for her, but that did not mean that she would not trust Rhykana's word. Even if Jonath’s version of the events in the hall did reach Illyria before the truth, the woman would listen.
Or, at least she would listen for as long as the mark remained on the girl’s face. When they reached the gardens, Rhykana guided the child to a seat on a bench, and tilted her chin up to the light with one hand. The mark was still there, but it was not likely to bruise. They would have to leave soon, then, so that Illyria could see it and understand what had truly happened. Or, of course, if the girl took too long to calm, they could always… freshen the mark. The girl would be punished by Illyria no matter what, but Jonath's own punishment was very much in question.
“I am Rhykana.” She told the girl, taking the seat next to you. “What was that nonsense I just witnessed in the hallway?”
Re: Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Bryn didn't resist as she was hauled through the corridors by the Accepted. Her mind was too wrapped up in all of the possibilities of what could have happened had the Dedicated called her bluff.
No, she wasn't ready for that encounter, not yet. Not under these circumstances.
Light, but she couldn't believe she had lobbed a fireball at the Dedicated. Byrn had merely meant to to singe his eyebrows, maybe set his rear on fire.
No. If she were to have the satisfaction of injuring the man, if would be with her own bare hands. Or her knife.
How could it be Jonath was still here, and still a flaming Dedicated? Shouldn't he have moved on or risen through the ranks by now? No, some took longer to become an Aes Sedai or Asha'man than others. Not many but a few like that man persisted in the ranks.
Cool air hit her face as they entered the Gardens and Bryn snapped back to reality.
She looked at the Accepted “escorting” her. She was a stunner to be sure, but cold. And she glowed so brightly with saidar.
Bryn could probably physically break away from her, probably give her a trouncing. But the Novice knew she wouldn't get very far.
And it would be an improper way to thank her savior, however flaming bent she was on punishment.
Bryn took a seat, taking a deep breath. She closed her gold-green eyes and attempted to find some semblance of her serenity. Her hands clutched the book she held, recalling everything that had happened. Reality snapped in and she swore violently.
“You're a flaming fool, Bryn Riverstone Walker,” she murmured to herself. It was as much for almost trying to kill the bloody Dedicated as it was for tipping her own hand.
Then she was forced to look up at the other woman and she noticed those pale eyes more clearly. They were almost like ice, angered and … other things Bryn couldn't discern. The Accepted appeared more concerned with the mark from where the blasted Dedicated had smacked her with Air.
And then the Accepted was sitting down next to her.
“I am Rhykana.” said the Accepted. “What was that nonsense I just witnessed in the hallway?”
“Bryn Riversotne Walker,” she murmured. Bryn gripped the book she held and murmured, “I smacked him proper after he channeled to hit me and after he reached behind his back.” It was a knife, she was sure of it.
She looked at the Accepted. “He tried the same stunt with me and another Novice years ago, only that time it ended slightly different. I kneed him properly the first time, ran, pulled another Novice into a room, got caught, he destroyed a rare book, I smacked him proper again, the other Novice saved my life when he pulled a knife on me and well … there's been bitter feelings apparently ever since then.”
She shrugged. “I had only hoped to singe him a little, enough to ensure I get close to land another blow so he wouldn't ever dare touch another woman again, not enough to kill him.”
As for the breakdown … Light, how could she explain that?
“He had a change of heart because of who the First Seeker is at the moment. Jerid Walker Asha'man would be the man I know as my father,” she murmured. “Except he doesn't know I exist. And that's something that would take too long to explain.”
Her breathing had calmed, as did her heartbeat. “How would you react if you were warned your victim would notify a father who was once the Master of Soldiers and Keeper of Archives — a man rumored to have killed Dreadlords?”
No, she wasn't ready for that encounter, not yet. Not under these circumstances.
Light, but she couldn't believe she had lobbed a fireball at the Dedicated. Byrn had merely meant to to singe his eyebrows, maybe set his rear on fire.
No. If she were to have the satisfaction of injuring the man, if would be with her own bare hands. Or her knife.
How could it be Jonath was still here, and still a flaming Dedicated? Shouldn't he have moved on or risen through the ranks by now? No, some took longer to become an Aes Sedai or Asha'man than others. Not many but a few like that man persisted in the ranks.
Cool air hit her face as they entered the Gardens and Bryn snapped back to reality.
She looked at the Accepted “escorting” her. She was a stunner to be sure, but cold. And she glowed so brightly with saidar.
Bryn could probably physically break away from her, probably give her a trouncing. But the Novice knew she wouldn't get very far.
And it would be an improper way to thank her savior, however flaming bent she was on punishment.
Bryn took a seat, taking a deep breath. She closed her gold-green eyes and attempted to find some semblance of her serenity. Her hands clutched the book she held, recalling everything that had happened. Reality snapped in and she swore violently.
“You're a flaming fool, Bryn Riverstone Walker,” she murmured to herself. It was as much for almost trying to kill the bloody Dedicated as it was for tipping her own hand.
Then she was forced to look up at the other woman and she noticed those pale eyes more clearly. They were almost like ice, angered and … other things Bryn couldn't discern. The Accepted appeared more concerned with the mark from where the blasted Dedicated had smacked her with Air.
And then the Accepted was sitting down next to her.
“I am Rhykana.” said the Accepted. “What was that nonsense I just witnessed in the hallway?”
“Bryn Riversotne Walker,” she murmured. Bryn gripped the book she held and murmured, “I smacked him proper after he channeled to hit me and after he reached behind his back.” It was a knife, she was sure of it.
She looked at the Accepted. “He tried the same stunt with me and another Novice years ago, only that time it ended slightly different. I kneed him properly the first time, ran, pulled another Novice into a room, got caught, he destroyed a rare book, I smacked him proper again, the other Novice saved my life when he pulled a knife on me and well … there's been bitter feelings apparently ever since then.”
She shrugged. “I had only hoped to singe him a little, enough to ensure I get close to land another blow so he wouldn't ever dare touch another woman again, not enough to kill him.”
As for the breakdown … Light, how could she explain that?
“He had a change of heart because of who the First Seeker is at the moment. Jerid Walker Asha'man would be the man I know as my father,” she murmured. “Except he doesn't know I exist. And that's something that would take too long to explain.”
Her breathing had calmed, as did her heartbeat. “How would you react if you were warned your victim would notify a father who was once the Master of Soldiers and Keeper of Archives — a man rumored to have killed Dreadlords?”
Jerid Walker Asha'man
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
"We all suffer. It's how we move past it that defines us."
-
Bridget
- "Lord of Chaos"
- Posts: 340
- Joined: October 2nd, 2014, 4:57 am
- PC: Haxia do Catalan a'Coralle
Re: Deja Vu and First Impressions (Attn: Rhykana)
Rhykana’s eyebrows rose as she sat through Bryn’s disjointed explanation of the extraordinary events in the hallway. A Dedicated had pulled a knife on two novices? And he was still in the Grey Tower, living without reprisal or careful observation? Rhykana already had little respect for Illyria and the Master of Soldiers, but this brought her estimation of them to rock bottom. It was sad and ironic that she would soon drag this girl to the Mistress of Novices, in order to intact a punishment and avoid a potentially worse one. Rhykana didn’t want to even consider what type of story Jonath might try and spread.
Her breath came in a sharp inhale at Bryn’s words. So that he wouldn’t dare touch another woman again? Was there something that Bryn was not telling her? Rhykana wouldn’t put rape past the man who had tried to break through her ward to get at the novice, and she wouldn’t expect Bryn to tell that sort of story to her, an unknown Accepted. Rhykana spoke of her own rapes to no one, not even Lydarian Sedai.
And the First Seeker was the girl’s father. Rhykana was glad that she was already sitting down, though her face showed none of her surprise. That this girl was the unknown daughter of the Head of her intended Ajah… was a surprise and an opportunity that Rhykana was not sure how to manage. She had never interacted with the man; Hallene Sedai was the only teacher she could possibly need in her quest to understand and create ter’angreal, and a man like Jerid Walker had no interest in Accepted such as herself. Rhykana was not certain she wanted him to take an interest in her; after all, the Indigo would not be her only Ajah.
“I see.” Rhykana said, although she hardly saw. “Then there is much that you must tell Illyria Sedai, for I certainly do not have the authority to give that bastard the whipping he deserves.” She smiled thinly, eyes stormy, although her expression did not expose her anger. If Bryn was telling the truth- and Rhykana could not imagine that it was a lie, for it was too convoluted a story to make a good lie- Jonath was the type of man that she would gladly have under her knife.
Curiosity warred with anger. “Will you be informing your father of your existence?” She asked, a single eyebrow raised in question. “Or would you ask me to say nothing of that relevation?”
Her breath came in a sharp inhale at Bryn’s words. So that he wouldn’t dare touch another woman again? Was there something that Bryn was not telling her? Rhykana wouldn’t put rape past the man who had tried to break through her ward to get at the novice, and she wouldn’t expect Bryn to tell that sort of story to her, an unknown Accepted. Rhykana spoke of her own rapes to no one, not even Lydarian Sedai.
And the First Seeker was the girl’s father. Rhykana was glad that she was already sitting down, though her face showed none of her surprise. That this girl was the unknown daughter of the Head of her intended Ajah… was a surprise and an opportunity that Rhykana was not sure how to manage. She had never interacted with the man; Hallene Sedai was the only teacher she could possibly need in her quest to understand and create ter’angreal, and a man like Jerid Walker had no interest in Accepted such as herself. Rhykana was not certain she wanted him to take an interest in her; after all, the Indigo would not be her only Ajah.
“I see.” Rhykana said, although she hardly saw. “Then there is much that you must tell Illyria Sedai, for I certainly do not have the authority to give that bastard the whipping he deserves.” She smiled thinly, eyes stormy, although her expression did not expose her anger. If Bryn was telling the truth- and Rhykana could not imagine that it was a lie, for it was too convoluted a story to make a good lie- Jonath was the type of man that she would gladly have under her knife.
Curiosity warred with anger. “Will you be informing your father of your existence?” She asked, a single eyebrow raised in question. “Or would you ask me to say nothing of that relevation?”
meble kuchenne na wymiar cennik
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