The Grey Tower

Elia's eyebrows rose in surprise. That was not at all what she had expected to hear.

She decided to release the weave and let Tristram's mind return to normal. It had nothing to do with the threat, not precisely. The Andoran had said nothing that frightened her in the least bit. She had trained killers with grudges nipping at her heels; the man before her was a kitten by comparison.

"It's unwise to threaten an Aes Sedai," she said softly. "Even if you had little control over your tongue, that sort of thing would normally merit a strict punishment." Elia gave him one of those considering looks that made a man feel fitted for their funereal pyre. "But in this instance, I think we'll just mark this off as a part of your education."

Elia let saidar fade away. Everything in the world seemed to dim, including the sensation of her heart beat, slow and regular.

"I apologise for the distress I caused you," she lied. "It's not one of the Talents I normally demonstrate, as it is heavily discouraged by the Hall. We dissuade those wilders who learned it naturally from using it, due to the upset it can cause." She smiled regrettably. "I hope you won't hold it again me. It's just, you mentioned a man would do anything for a beautiful woman. I thought you may be interested in the lengths that 'anything' can be stretched to."

She drew herself back, lowering the arm propped on the back of the bench, and folding her hands in her lap contritely.

"I should let you go. Maybe we should leave learning about your untapped potential for another time."

It felt as if a weight had been lifted off him and he could finally breathe again, and he did, drawing in a deep breath and relaxing once more, the tension all but dissipating. He could tell she was no longer channeling, could feel that she had released the source, but it felt as if she still had a hold him. He couldn’t look away. She couldn’t do that. She couldn’t just do that and walk away, show him, let him see, and do nothing more. If it was that easy, could he do it? He could just imagine what he could do if he could. He’d never have to argue with another lord, would never have to fight to make sure that House Baryn was heard. He couldn’t just leave that behind. He reached out and grabbed her hand, stilling her.

“Please don’t apologise,” he said with a small smile. “Maybe a little warning would have been nice, but you did say say what was on my mind, and, well, some habits die harder than others.” He gave another grin. “I’ve always been rather protective of myself. And when I said anything…” He let his gaze wander over her again. “I tend to like to know the person a little more first…

“But,” and the smile was gone, the seriousness back. He’d always been able to switch from one mood to another quicker than it took to blink. “How would you… How do you go about learning how? And why show me if you normally dissuade wilders? There has to be more of a reason.”

Elia shook her head slightly as if only now realising the path she'd accidentally led Tristram down. "Oh, you just mentioned doing anything, and I thought..." She shook her head again. "You will have other Talents to discover, I am sure."

She felt the increase of pressure on the back of her hands. Elia gave the soldier a considerate smile. "But if you are insistent, we can see if you're able to learn. But this must remain between us, Tristram. As I said, the Hall discourages this Talent; strongly discourages it." There was no need to her to give feigned emphasis on just how bad it would be. "But all Talents must be preserved in living memory; it is our duty -- the Indigo Ajah's duty -- to record and examine all of the Talents."

Once more, she ran that malachite gaze of hers over Tristram. Was she really going to entrust such a secret with this neophyte? The slight risk taken so far seemed to be worth the potential gains. Any traces of her weave would be gone before dinner, and then it would be the word of an Oathsworn Aes Sedai against a soldier's. Yes, it was worth a small gamble. She'd come to recruit for the Indigo, but the Great Lord was her true master.

"We cannot speak any further about this now." Her voice was pitched up a few semitones, enough to convey concern, if not the fringes of panic. "But come to my chambers later tonight, after the last bell. If you think you're capable of sneaking out from the Soldiers' Quarters, that is." Capable or not, she would wager a gold crown he tried regardless. "My rooms are on the highest floor of the Indigo Hall." Elia glanced away from him, calculating things in her mind. "I can't teach you, of course, but I shall find a man who can."

She looked back at him, her gaze intent. "And then we'll see what you can do."

There were other Talents, yes, but would they be as useful? He had to wonder how being able to forecast the weather help him. Oh, if he was a farmer then that would be absolutely delightful, bloody fantastic, the bestest best thing that could ever happen, but he wasn’t one. He was someone who had spent half his life trying to push his family back to the top, and no doubt he would spend the rest of his life doing the same. It would certainly make things easier if he had a little help; easy enough that he could focus on spending more time with his son and remaining family. Learning whatever she had shown him was, therefore, a win-win situation. There was no way that Tristram could lose, and maybe, just maybe learning it would also mean he could stop it from happening to him again. That had to be a good thing, too, being around so many Asha’man and Aes Sedai. Anything to protect himself and his family from them.

He finally let go of her hand and sat back, though he didn’t look away. There was a hint of suspicion there, a question of why, why an Aes Sedai would be willing to show him something that was so greatly discouraged, unable to really believe the reason she had given, but he suppressed and ignored those thoughts and doubt, shoving them aside and far, far away to the back of his mind. In the end, it didn’t matter. It was simply a means to an end. He’d never shied away from having to do something that he probably shouldn’t in order to get what he wanted. You didn’t get anywhere if you didn’t. That was just how life worked.

It would be easy enough to sneak out and find his way up to the chambers. It seemed like the Aes Sedai and Asha’man expected their students to be good little boys and girls and obey the rules, but he had never been one to follow them. Rules were made to be broken, and, well, he couldn’t think of an easier rule to break.

He stood, then, and smiled, not bothering to keep his voice low. The quieter you talked, the more people tried to listen in. There was no surer sign that you were plotting something than whispers. “It’s a date.”

Elia smiled.

It was not one of those winning smiles that drew men (and the occasional woman) to her. It was sinuous, like the line that divided the Flame and the Fang. Just a little bit of teeth showed, where her full, scarlet lips parted.

When the knock on the door came, Elia waved at Malth to open it. He was a portly fellow with the ruddy-cheeked features of an Amadician. He had eschewed his black jacket and cord for a gaudy long coat. It was a florid array of reds and yellows, something Elia would have expected to see on a Tuatha'an instead of a Green Asha'man.

As Malth opened the door, Tristram came into sight. Elia's smile grew bolder. "Come in. I am glad you made it."

The Indigo sister stood at the far end of a square room, her hands resting on the top of a tall-backed chair. Two smaller chairs faced it at an angle, one each for Elia and Malth. The boy was to be the centrepiece for this evening's explorations, and Elia wanted him to feel comfortable. "Come, sit," she gestured, before moving to her own seat.

Elia wetted her lips in anticipation. She was playing a number of games here. Tristram was here under the partially false pretence of learning a secretive weave. Malth thought he was aiding in the recruit of a new Darkfriend, which was true, but he had no idea who Elia really was. To Malth, Elia was simply someone more powerful within the Ajah.

Stones on a stone board.

Her attention returned to Tristram when he and Malth had both taken their respective seats. "I hope you had little difficulty in getting here." In truth, Elia didn't care. Servants didn't talk and weren't to be believed in the first instance, and anyone else would have dragged the soldier back to his room by the ear. She continued in a placid tone. "Now, I did mention before that this has to remain a secret. If -- and it is an if -- you are able to learn, you cannot show this Talent to others. We are here to retain the knowledge, not to use it." Both the Aes Sedai and the Asha'man's eyes flickered towards one another in silent amusement. "At least, not until you are properly trained." And on my leash.

Elia opened herself up to saidar, casting a ward against eavesdropping across the room. She was far from adept at this, but it would do some good. If she didn't feel a woman attempting to spy on them, then Malth would detect a man's weaves.

"Also for safety," she continued, "both of you will be made to forget one another at the end of this meeting." Malth seemed taken aback, but Elia just stared him down into submission. "We do this to maintain one another's anonymity, so that if anyone seeks to eke out the bearers of this Talent, they cannot erase it from all living memory." Malth reluctantly nodded at that. He understood the structure of the Black Ajah, and it was much the same here.

"Right, well, with those formalities out of the way, let us begin. Malth, do show Tristram here how to form one of the simpler weaves. Tristram, all you need to do is try to follow what Malth shows you. We are both here should anything go remiss."

There were certain advantages to being forced to wear black, and one of those was that it made you harder to see in the dark and the shadows. He’d had no problem leaving his quarters and reaching the rooms of Elia Sedai. There had been no one about. In some ways, it had been rather disappointing. Dodging Aes Sedai and Asha’man was at least somewhat exciting and got the heart pounding that little bit more. It didn’t quite meet the exhilaration of the battlefield, where death could strike at any moment, but it was ten times better than the monotony that was most of his time at the Tower.

Admittedly, Tristram did feel some excitement at the thought of learning this new weave, but not much. Too much and he’d inevitably end up disappointed if, and maybe when, he could not learn the weave.

He looked at the Asha’man with some interest as he took the indicated seat, for once not lounging but sitting completely straight. This was something he wanted to learn, and so both channelers had his complete attention, though he still wondered why he couldn’t tell anyone else. If it was a discouraged weave, but one that they wanted to keep alive, then surely only full Asha’man and Aes Sedai should be the only ones learning. Why a Soldier? It made no sense. There were a lot of questions, a lot of things that had him raising his eyebrow, but, again, he stamped down on any and all of them. In the end, he didn’t care. It was a means to an end. Just like most things were.

He seized saidin as soon as he was told, still surprised and taken aback by the sheer force of it and the control needed to take hold of it. It was like being in a battle, and worth all the crap he had to endure. In fact, it was so much better. Everything was sharper, keener, that bit more alive. Whenever he seized it, he was always reluctant to let go.

It took a moment for him to focus on the Asha’man, but, as soon as he did, he followed the complex weave of Spirit streaked with Water and Air. His first few weaves dissolved into nothing as he made mistakes, twisting the threads when he shouldn’t, not bringing one enough forward. It was like weaving a tapestry, and he felt almost like he was trying to do it with his hands tied together…whilst blindfolded. The weaves were clumsy, and he let out a growl of annoyance. It took several more tries until he achieved the delicate net shimmering in the air. Or, at least, a decent resemblance. He grinned.

“I don’t suppose,” he said, concentrating on the weave and not on Elia, “that you’re going to be the test subject? Or maybe him? Make him bark like a dog.” He shot the Asha’man another grin, “Just joking, of course,” before his attention returned back to the Aes Sedai, “You have to tell me how you actually embed the suggestions within the weave. Some of them, surely, you can’t say aloud if you don’t want the person to be aware of it? Because I know I could feel it… and, well, you told me what I should tell you.”

Now that is a good point. When the dead chit Mirin had been instructing her, having a supplicant to practice on had done wonders for her education. She could remember that meeting as if it were yesterday.

[font=Lato name=Lato]Elia watched the man, Henrick, closely. She understood why he was here, and it thrilled her. Oh, she kept her excitement buried inside however. But still, he was here because of her. Because of what she could do. Those malachite gemstones took on a hard look. He would remember little, nothing to incriminate herself of her teacher.[/font]She smiled, green eyes looking warmer in the present. The Andoran was looking at her expectantly. What had Tristram said? Oh, right.

"There are different complexities when it comes to the use of Compulsion. At the basic level, you can manipulate a person's actions. If you want Malth here to bark like a dog, it requires very little work." The Asha'man looked more than displeased at the suggestion, but he wisely kept his peace. "When you manage to make more complex weaves, you can influence a person's memory. Perhaps you need someone to forget your presence, or to think of you as an old acquaintance, that sort of thing. Finally, there is the control of motivation, but we shall leave that for another time."

[font=Lato name=Lato]Elia brought her hands together in the centre of her lap, very much the picture of a dutiful pupil, as she listened intently. "When Compulsion is used for simple instruction and recent memory - the first two levels - it fades very quickly," Mirin explained. "Within an hour or two, and certainly within a day. This is because the weave is not necessary to constantly monitor and modify behaviour. As soon as the mind accepts its new reality and shifts those thoughts into long-term memory, it continues on as normal. But when we move on to manipulating core motivation and personality, the weaves remain behind. They are usually made to influence the person - forever."[/font]Strands of silver lace formed in the air in front of Elia, visible to her eyes only. The delicate lattice-work of Spirit, spiked with thin flows of Air and reedy streams of Water, started to wrap around on itself. The all-too-familiar whip-like form of her weave materialised, ready to lash out at either of her compatriots.

Elia made a seemingly nondescript gesture with her hand as she explained. "Certain instinctual commands can be conveyed through the weave. Malth, explain what it is you do."

The Amadician straightened as his opinion was called upon. "If you optate to drive an individual into a fury, one can victual their own resentment into the weave."

Elia translated. "To make someone feel a specific emotion, feel the emotion yourself as you weave. Observe." The whip of saidar struck the Green between the eyes. The brief panic that had burst across his puffy visage vanished into a contented stupor.

[font=Lato name=Lato]The tingling became a prickling feeling, just on the surface of her skin. It felt hot. Not warm, but actually hot, like she was resting her arm too close to a set of candles. Murdock's lips parted, and she heard the beginning of his speech. "Now normally I try to boil the blood-." Concern raced through her. "-but that I can't restrict to one portion of the body. Yet." The heat now felt like her arm was hovering alarmingly close to an open fireplace. She squirmed, trying to pull her arm back defensively, but Murdock's grip around her wrist was tight. She yanked back against him with her body, but there was little give from the Far Maddinger. "Murdock, please! Please, Murdock, stop!"[/font]Snot bubbled in the Asha'man's nose while tears streamed unbidden down his face. His mouth gaped open to emit a cry of terror, but Elia had stuffed Air in his mouth to silence him. He writhed in the chair, head pinned by the gag. Despite the recollection of dark memories going on in her mind, Elia was able to find amusement in this.

Finally she relented, letting both Compulsion and gag evaporate. Malth slumped forward as much as his burdensome girth allowed. Elia extracted a handkerchief from her waist, and handed it to the Asha'man with a murmured "apologies". She patted him tenderly on the back as he cleaned himself up.

"Now, Tristram, it is your turn." Malachite eyes glittered darkly as she once more considered the Asha'man. "Let's see what you can do."

Tristram stared with wide eyes at the sudden display of emotion, the way the Asha’man’s expression had changed in less than a heartbeat, the sudden tears and snot. He couldn’t help but purse his lips in disgust. Oh, he knew the man’s feelings had been manipulated, but… he’d never enjoyed overt displays of emotions. You only let people see what you wanted them to see. You certainly never let them see any weakness. He wondered if it could be fought, this weave, if you knew enough about it and were aware enough of it, because he certainly did not want to be forced to feel things he didn’t want to. Other people, though…

It would have been helpful to know when he’d had to deal with that idiot of an Asha’man. One quick weave and everything would have been solved. Maybe he could have wiped the stupid man’s entire memory of him, or certainly have manipulated it enough that he thought of him lovingly instead of with such prejudice. It would certainly have made life easier for him. It would make life easier for him now. No having to pretend to be something he was not whilst having to bite down on his pride.

The uses for it were endless, and so, so very tempting. This was what he should have been learning all along and not how to bow just so for an Asha’man or Aes Sedai.

Drawing in a breath, he seized saidin once more, wrestling it into submission. The weave was easier to make now, the strands of Spirit, Air, and Water entwining just so. It was still far from being perfect, but it was enough. The feeling emotion part, though, was tougher. He’d closed himself off for so long, or, at least, attempted to that just summoning up an emotion was not as simple as it sounded. Oh, he could have added to the Asha’man’s torment, made him feel horror, despair, sadness, but that meant experiencing those emotions himself, and he did not want to conjure up the memories that would cause such feeling. Not yet, at least. They were still too raw.

Instead, there was a sudden image of laughter, his children running through the orchard at the back of the manor, the oldest helping his youngest son. The latter had only just started to walk. They were playing, chasing each other. One had stolen the other’s toy. “Daddy, daddy, make her give it back!” He’d only felt amusement. He’d been home a day, back from a campaign. He was going to take them all riding later-

He wove as the feelings of happiness and joy filled him. His eyes flicked to the Asha’man, wondering how the man would show such feelings. The stronger, less weak emotions were always less obvious. No one would be able to tell. For all he knew, the man would start laughing, and that could be down to relief at not being made to suffer, the weave backfiring, not working. How would they know it had worked? His eyes flicked instead to Elia, and he let the weave settle around her instead, holding on to it still.

She couldn’t really scold him if she felt happy, could she? He wondered if willing it so made the weave stronger.

Elia settled back in her chair, patiently waiting for some change to overcome either of the men. Malth was still cleaning himself up, casting scornful glances at her when he thought she wasn't looking. As for Tristram, his eyes seemed intent on Malth for a few moments, before he started to look at her. She wondered what feelings Tristram was trying to conjure up in his mind. Get your appetite wherever you can find it, my dear.

Whatever the soldier was trying, it was slow going, or had yet to make a visible impact. Elia let her mind wander as she waited. Compulsion wasn't a tool that just anyone could use. Even the simplest of weaves required a certain deftness and strength with Spirit. She had tried with other recruits and watched them fail. They had failed, not her. Only those with talent deserved the gifts she could teach them, and that talent would help her reap greater rewards. Eventually. Once she determined what the next step was.

Oh, it was simple enough to cause general chaos. Anyone with a knife and a bit of guile could kill someone, but that wasn't going to bring down the Tower nor make it fall into her hands. If the only thing that was needed was Ninya to drop dead, the Domani would already be in her grave. Elia smiled. She had sent actual threats to their graves. Her great triumph was in the manipulation of her own teacher into damning herself. Oh, the Hall lapped up Mirin's lies about being the sole architect behind the deaths of fifty-odd students. The Cairhienin chit had nothing to do with it. Elia grinned. Mirin had died, leaving her former lover Emmond to Elia, and keeping Ravak free from her evil seductions. Aside from dying, Mirin had left her one other gift: Kaira.

Light, Kaira was a blessing from the Dark One himself. She was the most tender, intelligent, and loving child under the sun. Such a wicked temperament, such fire in her belly! Her niece had a bright future ahead of her, and Elia intended to help her get there. Her brother seemed relentlessly focused on picking out the girl's every fault, but all Elia saw was promise and potential. She just needed love to help her growth, and a gift or two from her favourite auntie to keep her inspired.
---- The Indigo sister wasn't aware of just how openly the joy she felt was visible to her guests. Malth saw the weave that was sending Elia into a rapture, but he had no intention of stopping their new supplicant. Elia was a tyrant; Malth saw that clearly now. If the soldier had this much raw strength, maybe he could some lasting damage. Push Elia off from her perch above him, giving himself a chance to move up. Anyway, Tristram needed a man's tutelage -- there was nothing Elia could actually teach the boy.
---- Elia saw the dark look in Malth's eyes. Hunger, ambition; the Amadician wanted something, and he thought she was the way to achieve it.

She lashed out with her own weave of Compulsion, blissfully uncaring about the damage that two different weaves could do. Whilst Tristram attempted to meddle with the blue Asha'man's emotions, she imparted a command. "Leave us, and forget about this meeting Malth." The ruddy-face man nodded slowly, before he pushed himself up from his seat and walked out the First Seeker's apartments.

Elia shifted her attention back to Tristram. Despite his lack of progress, Elia had a very good feeling about him. She gave him a genuinely tender look. "I can find you a better teacher," she offered in consolation. Malth had been a bad choice; Tristram deserved better. "Is there anything I can get you, in reparations for this failure? Anything I can do for you?"

The look on the Aes Sedai’s face told him that the weave had worked, and Tristram couldn’t help but smile at that. She seemed to be unaware of the whole thing, but that didn’t matter. That, in fact, only added to his desire to learn. He’d thought that she would at least be aware of the sudden change in emotion, that anyone would be, but it seemed that wasn’t the case. If he could change people’s emotions without them realising…. Well, the possibilities really were endless, even just here at the Tower. If he could make everyone feel positive around him, it would certainly make things easier.

He made himself stop smiling as he finally released the weave and let go of saidin. Instead, he forced his face to be blank, disappointed almost, like he really had failed. His eyes flicked back to the Asha’man, watching as he obeyed the command. That, too, seemed too easy. Making someone forget was simply a case of telling them to do so?

He’d begun to think that perhaps learning the One Power wasn’t as advantageous as he had first thought, but this was showing that that wasn’t true. Even if he didn’t learn how to make things erupt into flames, or how to make the earth explode beneath his very feet, it was worth it all for this. He could go far with such a weave. It wasn’t all about fancy displays of power. Sometimes it was all about working in the background, keeping quiet about what you were doing, not letting people know what you wanted or desired. He’d had experience of that.

“I’m really sorry,” he said, looking back at Elia, letting his eyes widen ever so slightly, the look of disappointment becoming more evident. “I swear I’ll try harder next time.” He looked down at his hands, biting his lip, and a hint of bitterness entered his voice. “But I can’t ask anything more from you. You’ve done all that you’ve promised. It’s not your fault that I couldn’t do it. Just,” and he glanced up, “Please don’t make me forget.”