The Grey Tower

Noticing the absence of the heavy coat’s weight for the first time, Valadin gently rested a hand upon Nykk’s.

“S’long as yer willing to put a kind word for me, I’m sure the Mistress of the Kitchen won’t mind me being a bit late. I am attending a Sister after all,” Val replied warmly. The anxiety that troubled him moments ago faded into the background. Once again she was the focus of his attentions. Gesturing towards the eating table which looked suitable enough despite the night’s events he added, “Perhaps just sitting an’ talking at the table would do…if that’s pleases you of course.”

It was at this point that Val saw that he hadn’t removed his hand from her own. Like a warm hearth, heat flowed from the spot and again an urge strongly gripped him to draw nearer to her. A moment’s hesitation threatened his rationality, but he recovered quickly as withdrawing to take his place upon the stool once more.

Most of the candles had gone out by now allowing the darkness to reign over most of the room. Dark shapes danced along the stone walls where the weak flames’ light still flickered stubbornly. For the time being it was appreciated. Anyone that entered the room might have deemed the situation inappropriate. Not only for an Aes Sedai to be in such a setting with a Soldier, but any woman to be alone with a man in a poorly lit room. Servants scurried about the Tower and rumors were quick to catch the tongues of many—a phenomena he knew well from experience.

Yet…

The cover provided by the night supplied courage to those that found the light blinding at times. Val almost laughed imagining how Cyn or Daven would take what he was considering. Am I still only considering it? Light, if I weren’t a milk-hearted sop I might’ve already took her in my arms. Foolish, but better than sittin’ here wishin’ she’d dandle me over her knee like some light-skirt. A small sigh escaped him as he rest his hands on his lap. With the lamps dimming, the air began to cool and Val was happy to have worn his heavy wool Tower-issued tunic. Despite its unremarkable grey color, it had proved useful on the strange evenings when the Shadow’s Touch didn’t heat the night until it proved difficult to sleep.

“Nykk,” Val breathed, but pausing to let the taste of her name linger on his lips a bit before continuing. “When I was slave I wasn’t allowed to have anything. To care for nothing. To want for nothing. It wasn’t that it was denied to me…the Master, he…he often would supply me with many gifts. Girls, ale, and trinkets—as much as any boy could’ve have wanted.”

Somewhere within a dam was breaking. The flood of anger that had been suppressed by necessity now rose to the surface, its ferocity black and hostile. Saidin’s beckon became ever more seductive as he thought of the things he would do to the fat slop who’d taken so much from him! Focus on her. Don’t…don’t think about it. Just talk to her. A bitter laugh preceded his next words and again Val thanked the Creator for the obscurity. He didn’t want Nykkolaia to see the wetness sliding down his cheeks. How long had it been since he’d told anyone about what he’d endured all those years? How long had it been since there had been anyone who would understand?

“Everything, Nykk, everything was given to me and yet none of it was mine. There was a little Murandian tavern maid I was sweet on in the beginning. Back then I didn’t understand the hopelessness of my situation; I believed my handler a decent enough fellow.” Even with all of his training in taking in the Void, the sneer at the end of statement was the hate shattering any serenity he tried to hold in that moment.

“She had big, brown eyes and a halo of black hair that seemed to catch all the light in the room when she stepped by. I actually thought I was in love. Fool that I was. Master quickly saw her to my bed and s’long as I remained steadfast in my service to him, she was allowed to visit me as much as pleased us. Of course one evening she pleaded with Master, telling him that she’d give up everything she owned for my freedom. When he refused she threatened to find a way to free me.”

The night that followed the argument came back to him with scintillating detail. He remembered attending to one of the Master’s clients. An ugly women of middling status. Thin as a stick and had the snout of a horse. The things she demanded of him that day were…difficult, more so than many other requests he received. He recalled sharing a brief exchange with the Murandian slaver, the man’s teeth glimmering in the pale luminescence of the moonlight. It had been in the thick of winter and the moon hung like a new silver mark beaming down on the land. Master gave mention that Lieta had visited and was waiting for him in his tent. Next Val saw it.

Entrails and poorly shorn limbs were strewn all over the fine sheets that had been laid upon the ground. Her blood had dried long ago, crusting against everything as the fetid stench of death was belched into the night behind him. Her head was at the foot of the entrance, her wonderful canted gaze now the lifeless gawk of the dead staring into the afterlife. Valadin had slept there amongst the gore that night and the next day the Master asked after Lieta, commenting on how she was trouble and Valadin agreed; that was the last time he had spoken of her.

“Master didn’t value my life or anything I took interest in. The girl’s life was lost—ripped away from her because she wished to have something that wasn’t hers. She believed that I was my own man. That I could make my own decisions…she didn’t realize that slaves ain’t people; just wares to be sold. Since then I’ve wondered whether I could ever be a man. Perhaps I’m just playin’ at being alive…waiting until my last handler is done with me…whether it’s fate, the Tower, or even some nobleman who wishes me to die for him; maybe once they’re done with me…maybe then I can finally stop pretending and just fade away.”

He shifted now to look where she was. By the time he’d finished speaking the last of the candles had died out and the room was completely dark save for the light that streamed in from beneath the door. Nykk might’ve moved to sit down across from him at the table or even at her bed, but he couldn’t be sure. The retelling of that tale had completely consumed him.

Now he just felt tired. “I’d been wonderin’ that…until I met you.”

Her admission had been equal parts frightening as it had been enticing.

Val blinked at the brilliance of the renewed light. Every inch of the room shone in stark detail and her…something had been ignited when she spoke those words. The woman sitting across from him now burned with a new confidence that hadn’t been present before. A hundred tongues of fire burned behind her and her frame was blessed in the firelight. Her words were a secret confirmation of something she’d known and might’ve forgotten; something she was reaffirming for herself as much as she was telling him.

That grave certainty tore at him for it was a truth he longed to know for himself, but loathed the bitterness of it. He held her gaze with his jaw tightening, the ridges of the muscle jumping beneath the skin as confusion met with the wish to be free of doubts.

No.

The answer came to him clear and simple. His eyes dropped to study the scars that ruined the ageless Aes Sedai face only this time there was a story etched into the crude signs of mutilation. They told of the carelessness of one human for another. They whispered of crafted torture of the flesh that was designed to break down the spirit. They spoke of a woman, a Sister, who after years with these afflictions had fought to recover what she could of her life and developed her own solution. I can’t do that. I ain’t that strong. She found a way to live with it. That’s why her nose isn’t held up high like the other Aes Sedai. Is that the only way to move on? Accept that there’s nothing for it?

“Maybe…” Val finally murmured. Wiping a hand across the dampness on his cheeks he chuckled lightly at himself. “Light, look at me. Weeping like a small girl in front of a new friend; a Sister no less.”

Again that word brought to mind the small few that had held the title. Studying Nykk’s face he wondered if he could be satisfied with that in this case; to have her only as a friend. History had proven such things were impermanent arrangements. Losing her would drive him mad he was certain of that and a question hung on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be given life. He leaned forward with the want to ask it, but at the last moment other words formed and he spoke those instead.

“So Caemlyn, eh? I’m from just down the road, born in the Four Kings…or at least I lived most of my life down the road. I never knew my da or mum so don’t rightly know where I was born.”

As always, it was surprising to him that the statement came with little solemnity. This at least was something Valadin was familiar with. Tussling with the question of who his parents were and whether they had loved him was a matter he’d resolved in his youth. Now it seemed insensible to become emotional about it. “Always wondered what it’d be like to have folk to call yer own. Have you ever been to the Inner City? Or the Royal Palace? They say the Queen’s gardens are larger than any two villages put together! Can you imagine what that’d be like? Wouldn’t want to live there mind, but wouldn’t mind laying eyes on it just once.”

Val considered her words before saying anything.

The Tower was easily the most majestic place he’d ever seen, let alone lived. Those early days when each morning felt like imprisonment he remembered finding solace in the well-made buttresses that rimmed each level of its height. Functionally the structure lacked for nothing. Aesthetically the building commanded attention. Sunlight caught on the surface like countless drops of honey glistening in the early hours of day. The surrounding terrain that comprised of the Warder Yards and Gardens offered much for the eye to feast upon. That inlaid stonework of the walking paths, the likes of which Valadin had never seen before, were as much a marvel as any flower that could be found in Andor. Gold and ivory were abundant in social rooms were the local nobility would often be reminded of the Tower’s influence.

Grandeur aptly defined the Grey Tower.

“I guess yer right about that.” Val admitted finally, his tone thoughtful.

Home wasn’t a word he would use to describe the immaculate keep. He’d already been an inhabitant for almost a year now, yet some days were as though he awoke in a strange land. Faces that he’d come to recognize by the uncanny smoothness granted by prolonged use of the One Power, sent shivers down his spine until he remembered that he had conscripted to serve alongside those that could channel.

Accepting that it was his duty to learn to control his power hadn’t made living amongst peers like himself easier. “So I guess the Tower’s been yer home for a bit now. Have you ever thought about finding a good man to settle down with? Yunno, get away from all this Aes Sedai business and start a honest family?”

That was as close as he’d dared to ask what really tremored in his heart. Dots of sweat snaked through his black forest of hair and slid behind his ears before falling onto the back of his neck. Being able to share his life with another had been a dream of his since youth. There had been little hope with his being an orphan; none of the village women would allow their daughters to be married off to a bastard regardless of his gentle manners. Although he usually kept to himself village girls were curious creatures and by the time they flowered they itched for the attentions of a man. More than once Val found himself secreted away in a barn or stable sating the curiosity naturally born to children in their middling years. After growing older and suffering the wrath of more than a few angry fathers, he learned it was best to avoid such things; too much risk involved.

Now his heart rammed against the sides of his ribs and his palms were clammy as he laid them on her modest dining table. The conversation seemed to be proceeding easily enough now, but inwardly he cursed himself for lack of experience. Val worried that a moment would arise when he would need to take action as a man and prove himself bold or suave. At least that was how Arlen said he’d gotten ole Hilde to lift her skirts despite her paw’s threats of shipping her off to Tar Valon; not that I believed him then. Or now.

Sighing inwardly he admitted that all he knew were horses. They were honest creatures, their feelings evident in their behavior if one watched closely enough. Watching Nykk as she sat before him calm as summer breeze rolling through the fields, her face perfect and imperfect in the same sitting, Val felt as if he were staring into a clear lake. The only emotion he could see was the Aes Sedai serenity that the woman seemed to practice as easily as breathing.

I wonder if she likes flowers… he wondered distantly.

“Burn any fool man that wouldn’t take a fine woman, Aes Sedai or no!” Val snapped back.

To some degree her words held an inkling of rejection in them in his mind. Of course it would’ve been foolish to admit the light he viewed her in—she was his better—but for her to say that no one would have her was a smirch against his feelings that he couldn’t tolerate. “Nykk, I’d have you in my bed faster ‘an any lordling would a lady! Treat ya like a man should too! None o’ that…dancing about and the like; I’d whisk ya off yer feet and we’d get right to the baby-making!”

Emphasizing his words with a bang on the table Valadin released some of the tension that had been building gradually through the evening. His eyes pointedly wandered away from Nykk though it didn’t stop his mind from filling in the details of her expression. He could see her thin lips drawn in a tight line that would barely veil the discontent with the familiar manner he addressed her. Meanwhile her shoulders would suddenly straighten the air about her darkening like a thunderhead. The image of her stringy, flaxen hair being tied into a proficient bun even came to mind; a sign that his flogging would could begin at any moment.

Light, what I wouldn’t do for some ale…maybe a quick pass through the Creek would be right enough for tonight. Creator knows I could do for sweet Meg’s smiles. She can’t turn me into toad. Hopefully.

The thought of drink and the gentle if affected attentions of a tavern maid only served as a brief distraction. Soon curiosity pulled his gaze back towards hes. Slowly he took in each feature again, absorbing the details as best he could. By tomorrow morning the conversation would have faded from memory like aged ink on an ancient parchment. The feelings…the way her presence made him feel small and grand interchangeably was something that was ingrained in his skin; his first friend had become as much a part of him as the One Power or his love of flowers. With a sigh he folded his hands together and rested them upon the tabletop.

The night’s abuse had finally taken its toll causing the table to tilt threateningly onto one side before standing firmly on its three remaining good legs. Napkins, tray, and pitcher alike slid towards the floor, but Val managed to snatch the pitcher and platter before more cleaning was required. The ruined kerchiefs landed soundlessly onto the ground and he to Nykkolaia once more. “You fancy some more sweetberry tea?” he offered uncertainly.

“Tis a bit warm now, but…well it’s just that sort of night ent it?”

The firelight blazed around Nykk, lighting the small shape of her body with matchless intensity. Captivated by the sight, Valadin's tongue failed him. Her curious stare drowned him in its wake and for the first time since touching Saidin he understood what it was to be swept up in a force much greater than himself. Cruel masters and noble degenerates he'd come to understand; their power was tangible, easily witnessed and felt. As a slave there had been no greater influence in his life than Master. Now...

Rising to his feet, Val approached in slow, heavy steps. His paid no mind to the mars that trailed along one side of her face and disappeared down the neckline of her gown. Swallowing as modicum of sanity pulled him from his trance he hesitated when she was inches from him, her wonderfully ruined agelessness studying him impassively. It could be an Aes Sedai trick. What could she want with slave boy; half a person who'd never once stood up for anything?Not even love. Don't be fool.

What shadows remained in the room whispered doubts in his ear. The truth in the words clouding his heart. She was so small. It was odd that Nykkolaia, this Sister he'd come to know, was one of the famous witches that made the world tremble with their every whim.

Back home he'd not thought twice about making a pass at her, his village boy charms and physique proving irresistible to girls at the time; he was far larger now and he'd learned many ways to pleasure a woman. Now, a woman stood before him, half his size and curious about the forbidden indulgence they danced around at this late hour, but he was held speechless by her mere presence. Master would've have taken a stripe of hide for such foolishness. Even after more than a year passing the sensation of horsetail braided whip tearing into his flesh was a harsh deterrent to reckless behavior.

Finally Val opened his mouth to speak, his reservations roaring for him to stop, but something greater than his fear compelled him to speak and move. His hand rose up to touch her face, thumb gently gliding across the scars before stopping at the dainty chin which wasn't entirely ruined. Like night and day, his callous hand took in the contrast between the imperfect and the perfect; relishing in its general wonder.

“I'd want you because like any rose you've got thorns. Your's are just a bit sharper than most," he breathed, his words deliberate in inflection. “Flowers are know to do that when protecting a particularly precious flower. I love flowers," he added drawing close enough to feel the heat of the Sister's breath upon him. He couldn't tell if the sharp exhale was at his bold advance or at his touch. Fear rippled the odd confidence he felt, but it was forgotten as the words tumbled from his lip like rainfall.

“...their unique beauty can be harsh and misunderstood, but breathtaking all the same. Much like you, Nykk...Sedai."