The Grey Tower

Emmond leaned back in his chair and fingered Mirin's square note in his hand. Even without reading it, the note told him several things. One, that Mirin had sent Elia for a very specific purpose. Two, that Mirin herself did not want the job. And three, that Elia’s intrusion in his life much more intentional than he had realized. What was Mirin planning? Was she trying to bring down two birds with one stone? Or did she intend on replacing him with Elia? Perhaps the two women were working in tandem. Should he even bother reading her note? Would it change anything?

He frowned at the paper. Abruptly, he flung it across the room. Blasted Seanchan attack! If he hadn’t lost his sight, then Mirin would have never dared to pull something like this.

It was past midday before Elia returned. After the normal pleasantries, they entered his study. Small, neat stacks of letters covered his desk. Emmond picked one up and turned it in his hands, judging the weight and feel of the paper. Then he tossed it towards her.

“Anything you learn here must be kept secret," he said. A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “More for your sake than mine. Read this. Out loud, please."

They began with the ordinary and mundane. It was a letter from an old childhood friend in Caemlyn.

“There is paper and ink in the drawer. Can you fill my pen for me? Thank you, Elia.”

They opened letter after letter. Emmond scrawled his responses as Elia spoke. He asked after families, recalling perfectly the names of children and partners. He inquired into businesses and commented on recent laws. Hours passed as they worked. Gradually, the mood of the letters darkened. Some were encoded in half-innocent gibberish. Others were straightforward and grim.

“Attempts to capture her have failed,” read Elia.

Find her brother, he ordered. His writing was quick and neat. Kill him.

Another letter. "If the hound answers not to the master, then the hunt may be lost to -" Elia did not finish before Emmond snarled and snatched that one out of her hand. With a weave of saidin, the paper turned to ash. Silently, he reached for the next note and pressed it into her palm.

He explained nothing as he worked. Why waste his breath? After all, he told himself, this was a temporary arrangement.

Soon, it was dinnertime. A servant brought in two trays: meat, bread, with vegetable soup and two slim glasses of water, accompanied by a small bowl of fruit for dessert. Emmond stood and stretched.

“Hungry?”

The switch was immediate. Emmond turned on the charm - though it was really simply a shift in his attention. He asked her about herself: her life, childhood, and interests. He seemed fascinated by her, as though she were the most interesting person alive. Conversation and laughter flowed easily. If she hesitated, he politely turned the conversation to avoid uncomfortable topics. Questions about himself were deflected with long-practiced grace (“I’m from a small town in Andor that isn’t even on a dot on the map. Quite dull. How about you?”), and he responded warmly to her (“I’ve never been to Fal Dara. Not much negotiation with Trollocs, ha! Though I’ve heard it is a beautiful city.”)

He was telling her an amusing story about exotic foods (“You have to taste it to believe it!”) when his hand accidentally knocked a glass of water off the table.

CRASH!!

The glass shattered on the floor. Emmond froze.

Elia had found herself relaxing into this new duty of hers, even if Emmond flashed intermittent signs of rage. When he snatched the first letter from her hands and ignited it with the Power, she had jumped. By the third time, she'd seen enough reaction from Emmond to know it was nothing personal, and thank the Light for that. She still didn't feel comfortable, not by a long stretch, but at least all of his anger was directed at others.

And there was the other thing as well: he'd taken her into his confidence. She tried desperately to ignore the voice at the back of her mind that said "this is because you're expendable". Even if there were layers of code and misdirection and straight out nonsense in these messages, they indicated the size and scope of Emmond's influence. She honestly had not realised just how much Emmond - if not the Black Ajah - did. Her part in the machinery may not have been a finger, as Murdock had said, but more of a pinky toe. Maybe just a toenail. That didn't make her feel in anyway more pleased by her former role, however. The Black Ajah, for all of Emmond's operations, still wasn't doing anything in relation to the Tower.

The break came just as Elia was beginning to get hungry, not that she would have said anything to hint that it. The meal was, as always, good, as was the conversation which was a surprise. He had switched back into a voice that could have melted a hundred women's hearts. If it wasn't for knowing just how dangerous he was, she may have been the hundred and first. She supped on the meal as he chatted about everything. The Indigo thought she was doing the bulk of the talking, but if that was the case, Emmond showed no sign of boredom. He deflected some questions about himself, she realised, but she didn't catch on to most of them. If she thought herself good, the Asha'man was far better.

They moved away from personal details, and somehow found themselves on the topic of cuisine. Elia plucked a slice of apple out from the bowl with her fingernails when the shattering of glass broke her focus. She glanced up towards Emmond, who had one hand outstretched as if frozen in gesticulation. Beside the table lay shards of glass - Emmond's glass of water - which he had just knocked off with his arm. Elia looked back up into Emmond's face, and saw something she'd almost forgotten about.

The Asha'man was staring down towards the broken glass, but focusing on a point through the floor. He didn't move, as if he'd been a child caught sneaking a cookie from his mother's kitchen when his parents walked into the room. After a few seconds, Elia decided to act, and take an opportunity to edge out some control. With practiced ease she embraced the Source, although she only held onto a small amount of the Power. Just enough to gather up the pieces of glass and return them to the tray. As the lines of yellow saidar moved the shards, Emmond continued to just stare at the ground. When she channelled Water to clear up the mess and dry out the carpet, his stare did not change.

Elia's heartbeat sounded loud in her ears as exhilaration flooded her body. He is blind. There was no question about it now, none at all. A slight smile of satisfaction danced across her lips unbidden, but she couldn't muster the will to stop. She did, however, keep her voice calm when she next spoke. "I have cleaned up the glass, and dried the carpet. Here, take mine." She lifted her glass - with her hand this time - and placed it where Emmond's had been. Needlessly she wiped a mark of red from her side of the rim.

It was probably too far to say he relaxed after that, but at least there was no wild transformation into the darker side of his personality. Elia placed her half-finished bowl of fruit onto the table, and stood. "I'll get us another letter." She crossed over to the study whilst Emmond put his confidence back together.

The mound of correspondence had been significantly depleted, but there was still at least a day's work to go. She rummaged through the stack out of interest, so see if anything stood out. When it didn't, she slid a message from near the bottom of the stack out, and returned to the sitting room with Emmond. The letter was a perfect square - most unusual - with Emmond's first name written on the front. She broke the unmarked wax seal and read. "Dear friend. Isn't the river lily the most fragrant of all flowers? Though I'm afraid its roots are poisonous. I hope you don't think less of me for sending one to you." There was no signature, no initials. Elia looked about the room for a flower of any sort, but saw nothing. It was to no surprise that this was another code.

"Bloody woman," Emmond muttered. He had recovered from his shock, running a hand self-consciously through his hair. He pushed himself to his feet, his bowl of fruit untouched. "Not you Elia," he replied softly, making his way unhindered to his study. It was quite incredible how well he masked his blindness.

"Shall I fetch some fresh ink?" His inkwell was basically empty, and the pause for dinner had likely rendered the rest of it useless.

"No, not yet." Some messages didn't merit a reply, and this was one. She placed the letter on a pile at the edge of his desk, likely all to be used as tinder for a fire later. "Continue," he gestured, indicated the unread messages.

They continued on beyond the fourth bell, when the novices and soldiers would be settling in for bed, and the Accepted and Dedicated would be completing any personal tasks and studies. It was a time when the Tower came to a pause, between the cessation of the day's activities and the beginning of the servants' overnight chores. Some nights Elia liked to stroll through the courtyards of the different Ajahs, making polite conversation with whomever she crossed. Occasionally she watched Gaidin train from a distance, careful not to be spotted watched in case they became self-conscious. That same feeling of quiet contentment came over her even in Emmond's study. That just happened to be the way of things around the Andoran. They were two Darkfriends, one more than likely capable of crushing the other without a second thought, yet Elia could almost see herself coming to genuinely appreciate Emmond's company. Once more there was a small voice in her mind telling her that she was being lulled, but her resistance had ebbed away over the hours spent working together.

When the fifth bell rung, Emmond raised his head. "I've kept you for too long, Elia." Once again he was back to warm honey. Or caramel? That was a silly thought, but it came unbidden. "You should sleep. We can follow up on this in the morning."

Some foolish, almost reckless notion of asking after his bed popped into her head briefly, but she knocked that away without a second consideration. "Thank you, Emmond. In the morning." She gave a slight bow, even knowing it would go unnoticed, and started her way towards his door.

"Remember Elia," he called from his study. "Everything you have learned here must be kept secret." Caramel, but with a layer of something dark underneath.