The Grey Tower

Mael listened in silence as the Red spoke. Marle had already told him about some of the things — the Oaths, and Ajahs, if not the procedure with the Hall — but somehow this made it all seem more real. Light, he was really doing this? Not that he had a choice, not truly. In a way, he’d been heading towards this point for the past sixty-odd years; the only way he could have had a future in the Black Tower would have been to turn against Alastair, and that had never been an option.

There was no way he was going to swear the Three Oaths, though. Alastair’s words about children playing at being Aes Sedai repeated in his head again… He banished the voice, forcefully. He was going to be a member of the Grey Tower; he couldn’t hold on to old prejudices.

Anyway, Kosari was right. He didn’t care what people might think about him.

Looking at the other man, it occurred to him that that was likely something they had in common.

“I have indeed,” he replied. He’d had little chance to do much else than think, over the past two days, and thinking about the future beat the hell out of thinking about the past. “I won’t pretend that I know everything about your Ajahs—” and that was another Aes Sedai thing “—but as far as I see, there is only one real option for me.” Big words, he thought a little wryly; it would be bloody embarrassing if he’d miscalculated and was about to be rejected outright. Marle had seemed optimistic about his chances, but then, Mael suspected that Marle was hardly an unbiased judge when it came to Jaryd Kosari.

“I wish to join the Red Ajah,” he said. He raised an eyebrow and flashed a slightly crooked smile. “And I gather it’s you I need to convince.” The only other option he’d given brief consideration was the Green — just weeks ago he had been content with throwing himself at the Shadow in open battle, practically living in the Blight — but now it didn’t feel… enough. “You seem unsurprised. So did Marle, when I spoke to him. Was it that obvious?”

Jaryd had known it was coming even before Mael opened his mouth to confirm his premonition. The Wheel wove as the Wheel willed, and in this the Asha’man could see the Pattern weaving itself very tightly indeed around Jaren and Mael. The odd twinge he felt at that thought surprised him, but he dismissed it as quickly as it occurred. He had accepted Johan's bond and Tristram's friendship; he could certainly handle whatever Akashi brought.

Except the man wanted to join the Red Ajah and that required an entirely different kind of personal involvement. The Altaran disliked feeling the weight of the Wheel on his back as he considered his response.

The Stairs aren’t real, a part of his mind whispered. It was the same part that insisted the Forsaken were bound at Shayol Ghul until the end of time, the part that ignored fact in order to tend to his comfort. In another corner of his mind, like the faint whisper of a dream, he remembered a conversation he had had with his mother in the final stage of his own Great Stair. Her words had seemed outrageous, but as time passed one point after another had proven true.

Jaryd sat back in his chair and studied the Kandori man in silence for an uncomfortably long time. His mind traveled over every detail he knew about the man, and he found precious little to indicate another Ajah would be a better fit. Alastair probably would have gone Blue or Green had he come to the Grey Tower, but Mael was his own man.

“I saw the look you gave me when I introduced myself. You did not know my Ajah existed prior to arrival,” he commented finally. Mael nodded. Jaryd scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “Before I give you any kind of diatribe about what my Ajah does or why we exist or what I look for in a candidate, I’ll ask you a simple question: what makes you so certain you belong after a mere two days?”

The words could have sounded scornful or dismissive, but Jaryd’s tone was one of genuine curiosity, his dark eyes intent as he waited for a response.

The silence stretched on for long enough that Mael began to wonder if he’d said something wrong. The look on Kosari’s face betrayed nothing about what was going on behind those dark eyes. Though he didn’t wear the uniform, the Red was very much an Asha’man… a true Asha’man, not the watered-down, Oath-bound, tame channellers who bore the title here, or the bullies who were in charge of the Black Tower.

Not for the first time Mael had to wonder what might have been if Kosari had stayed, allied himself with Alastair… Would things be different? But that was useless speculation of the worst kind. Mael might not know what exactly had led to the Altaran leaving the Black Tower in the manner that he had — the Black Tower did not like to talk about its failures — but he did know that Kosari must have had his reasons. And if there was anything he’d learnt the hard way, it was that he had no business judging how a man chose to follow his conscience.

It was… tempting, in some overly simplistic way, to find in this man a target for some of his anger and grief. Why did you leave? Why did you not fight with us? We might have had a chance, Alastair might still be alive… Or they might all be dead just the same, not just Alastair but Mael and Kosari as well. To pursue that trail of thought was an exercise in futility.

And, besides, he didn’t want to resent Kosari. The man very likely had every reason to react with hostility when faced with a reminder of the Black Tower, and yet he had shown kindness to Mael…

The Red’s words, when he finally spoke, jolted Mael back to the present. He took a moment to regroup his thoughts before replying. “I’ve been fighting the Shadow all my life,” he said at length. “As a Borderlander before I ever found out I could channel. Then, as an Asha’man of the Black Tower, with the ability to do so much more than I ever could by my sword alone, it seemed the natural thing to do to continue fighting that battle.” He paused for a second, but it was impossible to tell what Kosari was thinking. “I’m tired of just treating the symptoms of a disease that runs deeper than what most people can see. Protecting villages and farmsteads near the Blightborder, while important, is but damage control. It doesn’t fix the problem. The world is not going to run out of Trollocs, no matter how many channellers you throw at the Blight.”

If he hadn’t been so keen on throwing himself at the Blight, he might have picked up on whatever Alastair had been up to, he might have noticed things sliding out of control… He shut that thought down before it could fully form. Blaming himself would be as useless as taking his grief out on Kosari.

“I need to be doing something more,” he went on, looking at the Red again. “For Alastair. For myself. For those we may yet save.”

I’ve been fighting the Shadow all my life. Words Jaryd had spoken himself, more times than he could count, paired with a history that might have been his own had he been born in the north rather than the south. The Red had thought before of Mael coming to the Grey Tower, but what if Jaryd had stayed at the Black? Where were you when I was there? How different it might have been had he found a friend in his misery...but then again, perhaps it was just as well that “hope” had remained fleeting during his stay in that establishment.

That was terrible, Jaryd.

Amused at his own inner dialogue, the Altaran nodded slow acceptance of what Mael said. “My entire life is spent fighting that disease,” he commented. “Each member of my Ajah approaches our purpose in their own way, but as a group we pit ourselves against the Dark One’s corruption no matter where it appears, to whatever degree it may take itself.”

He paused with an odd expression on his face. “Forgive me if I ramble, Mael. I am rarely given the opportunity to speak frankly of my Ajah. I am usually required to frame our work so it will not frighten children.” He chuckled.

“Unlike the Gray, we do not seek to make peace with our enemy. Unlike the Blue Ajah, we remain devoted to our group purpose rather than splintering off on our own agendas. Unlike the Green, we could not possibly care less about a bloody army or a battlefield. We get the job done -alone, more often than not- and then we move on to the next.”

Unseeing eyes drifted to his hands for a moment. “I fight monsters in human form far more frequently than Sightblinder’s spawn. Women who do terrible things to protect their children. Men who commit atrocities for gold and power. Dreadlords. Darkfriends. Whitecloaks. The decisions I make can be heavy and it takes its toll. My partner tells me if I do not sleep he will put valerian root in my tea.”

The Asha’man channeled, pulling a crystal wine decanter and glasses toward them. “Drink?” As he poured a glass for himself, the Red continued, “You spoke of wanting to do something more with your life. Does what we do still sound like what you’re looking for?”

Oddly enough, Mael no longer felt like he was being tested. He was certain Kosari knew what his answer would be, and he was fairly sure the Red wasn’t displeased. And like the man said, the work they did wasn’t something you could discuss with just anybody. Mael had seen what carrying such burdens alone had done to Alastair, and Mael had only ever been able to share a fraction of it; to the very end, Alastair had never quite let go of trying to protect him from the consequences.

He wondered briefly whether it was the same between Kosari and his partner. He couldn’t say he knew the man yet, but he thought Kosari was more like himself than Alastair; he would want to shield those he loved from harm but he would have enough respect to not shut them out… And if Mael’s suspicion was accurate and the partner in question was Marle, Kosari might find it difficult to do so even if he tried. For all his soft and gentle manner, the Healer had threatened to have his Warder sit on Mael the very first time he’d opened his eyes in the infirmary.

He accepted the offered glass with a nod of thanks and poured himself a drink. “Yes,” he simply replied. Then he smiled faintly. “Not to sound overly corny, but I’ve never been so certain of anything in my life.”

Morning light streamed through the window in the outer area of Jaryd’s quarters. The Altaran sat cross legged in the chair by his desk, scribbling hasty notes in one of his journals. A cup of tea and his breakfast sat forgotten next to a stack of books he had been referring to through most of the morning. The Red needed to get everything he had learned about Mael, the Black Tower, and even the Grey Tower itself onto paper before he forgot. Sustenance took second place next to the urgency of that task.

He supposed the meeting with the Sitters the day before could have gone worse. He had seen wide eyes in the assembly when he placed his faith in Mael’s good intentions and accepted the man’s request to join his Ajah. Those people knew his history and thought they knew him; they could not imagine why he would invite one of them into his inner sanctum. Then again, most of them didn’t entirely understand why his Ajah existed at all, so their opinions hardly mattered.

Something else had flickered as well, although in different eyes. On those faces he saw old suspicions brought back to life as they eyed the intruder in their midst. One of those had been Ninya, and Jaryd could not quite dismiss the idea that the Amyrlin had an entirely unpleasant future in mind for the two of them.

Imagine the fire and blood if Akashi had asked to join the Blue Ajah? He snorted softly. They likely would have rejected him on principle, even without Ninya’s silent encouragement...and Light, the cracks that altercation would have created in Tower harmony! In the end, however, the Hall had accepted the Kandori man into the Tower as Jaryd had known they would.

And I have accepted him into my Ajah. He had known Marisa for eighteen years and she betrayed him; why did he trust Mael after less than a week? I don’t suppose I have a choice. The workings of the Pattern could hardly be ignored, after all.

A soft knock brought the Asha’man back to the present; a moment later Mael himself walked in. Somehow the man managed to look meticulously neat and like he had just rolled out of bed without combing his hair. He also didn’t look nearly as tired as he had the day before.

Jaryd immediately closed his journal and rose to greet him. Once pleasantries had been exchanged, he gestured for Akashi to have a seat. Then he sank into one of the armchairs, positioning himself to face the other Red head on.

“I believe I offered to help you find answers,” he said. “The question now is: what are your questions?”

So now he was officially an Asha’man of the Grey Tower. Mael wondered idly if he should feel any different. He’d been given quarters in the Red Ajah section of the Tower; the place was bigger than what he’d had in the Black Tower, but then, he had ever spent little enough time there. Looking around, he wondered if this place would ever feel like home. The Black Tower hadn’t, not really.

His gaze fell on the flowers in a delicate vase on the tea table. That had been Marle’s doing; the Yellow had simply flashed an enigmatic smile when Mael had — very politely — tried to protest that he didn’t need flowers. Mael had placed a Keeping on them, anyway, once the Healer had gone.

He’d spent most of the night staring at those flowers as though they could answer his questions.

They didn’t.

Oddly enough, though he’d only got a couple of hours of sleep in the end, he felt well enough rested this morning. Rationally thinking, he didn’t imagine the flowers had anything to do with it… Or maybe they had, if not in a medicinal way. There had not been too much… kindness, in his life in the Black Tower, and he didn’t quite know what to do when faced with it now, but he did know that if the Grey Tower was an environment that could nurture the kindness inherent in people like Marle instead of killing it… He still wasn’t sure he belonged here, but he wanted to try.

And that was why he headed out to meet with Kosari as soon as he was done with his breakfast; he’d joined the Red Ajah for a reason, and unlike most of the rest of the Tower at present, Kosari was willing to work with him.

Mael couldn’t say he was much impressed with the man calling himself M’Hael around here — Feroce Liendin reminded him too much of Artan Sandhill, a petty bureaucrat, but perhaps there were hidden depths to the Cairhienin if people like Kosari tolerated his leadership. Liendin’s female counterpart, Ninya Evoneigh, seemed a beast of a slightly different nature, perhaps, and not much different from what Mael would have expected of an Aes Sedai of any Tower. As for the Gaidin who made up the last third of the Triumvirate, as they called it… Ravak Darrow was a Borderlander and Mael was sure he could find something to respect in the man, but at a glance he seemed like someone better suited to the battlefield than politics and his presence in the Hall had felt a little jarring.


The room he entered was bright and elegant, consistent with what Mael had already come to associate as Kosari’s style. Mael noted the untouched breakfast on the desk, and it took him a second to identify the odd twinge of pain the sight brought; nothing else about the space or Kosari himself reminded him of Alastair in any way, but Mael couldn’t count the times he’d found Alastair so immersed in his work that his food had gone cold untouched. Mael had commented on it, once or twice, only to have his concern brushed irritably aside.

He pushed the memory aside; he wasn’t ready to deal with that yet. Investigating his death was one thing, even avenging him if it came to that… Remembering all the little details of living and working with him, quite another.

He took the offered seat and looked at Kosari. “My questions are simple enough,” he said, “though I suspect finding the answers will be anything but.” He’d thought about this a lot in the past couple of days, and he still didn’t see a way to proceed that wouldn’t end in a disaster. And even bigger disaster. “I want to know what happened. I want to know what triggered a confrontation now, when the entire time I’ve known him… knew him… Alastair took care not to upset the balance too much. He always said he wasn’t tired of his life yet.”

He shook his head with a slight grimace. Wild, black curls fell forward over his eyes and he brushed them back with an impatient gesture. “There’s a theory,” he began slowly. “One that I’m almost not sure I should suggest out loud… But,” and he leaned forward a little, eyes intent on the man before him, “I expect you’ve seen and heard worse in your time. There’s one thing that could have made Alastair take action, no matter how desperate it seemed. And that is if he found evidence that the M’Hael of the Black Tower was a Darkfriend. Hells, maybe they found out that Alastair knew and decided to take him out before he could act.”

“That is a theory worthy of a lifetime of nightmares,” Jaryd commented as Mael fell quiet. “And yet, I agree. From what I know of Alastair, he would not throw his life away needlessly, which implies something larger occurred. Given that knowledge and the circumstances of your arrival here, the prospect of a Darkfriend M’Hael cannot be discarded.” How freely we speak of things that would make a common man’s blood run cold.

The Red drummed the fingers of one hand on the arm of his chair, thinking rapidly. “Unfortunately my research will not be as useful as I wish it could be,” he admitted grudgingly. “My records were destroyed some years ago, including most of my information on the Black Tower.” Light, what an asinine decision that had been! The Red did not look forward to explaining the specifics to his new Brother when it inevitably came to light. Such things always did, usually at inopportune moments.

“I haven’t re-established my lines of information in that area yet,” he continued. “While I may seem to have a deathwish, it is not so strong that I would go into a snake pit alone just to ask questions." Certainly not when he knew a pair of blue-gray eyes would be worrying the entire time he was gone. Not when there had been plenty to do elsewhere...only, now Alastair was dead and Mael was grieving. No. That line of thought would get him nowhere. "What I can offer you is a companion in your search, should you choose to return to learn for yourself. Perhaps two may succeed where one should not travel at all.”

Mael gave the man before him a contemplative look. Going back to the Black Tower, even with Kosari, might still be suicide… and he might only succeed in getting the other man killed as well. Mael wasn’t disturbed by the notion of his own imminent death; he didn’t actively want to die, but his life at present was worth only as much as he could contribute to the fight against the Shadow. Jaryd, it seemed, had far more to lose; a life worth living for its own sake…

…But he was offering to help, and he knew precisely what he was getting into. Mael would have done no less himself, and it was perfectly consistent with everything he knew about Jaryd.

“I expect I’ll have to go back sooner or later,” Mael said finally. He hesitated for a heartbeat; he wasn’t used to offers of help, certainly not genuine ones… But it was a relief to have Jaryd on board, to not be facing such a monumental task alone. “Thank you. I would be glad to have you with me.” He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. “Too bad about your records; I will of course provide you with any information I possess.” Not for the first time since the fateful events he regretted not paying more attention to the internal workings and power struggles of the Black Tower in recent years, but things like names, connections, who routinely worked with whom; that kind of things he should be able to help with.