The Grey Tower

Venturing into Tremonsien was like strolling through childhood memories. On either side of the dividing dirt road, buildings comprised of thatch and wood rose up in an uneven arrangement. The Square was a barren little patch of dirt in the hilltop’s center, its ground trodden smooth over the course of years. As the soldiers led Valadin and company towards the largest building’s stables the boy remained inseparable from Nykk, hand never straying far from the hem of the Sister’s skirt.

Dismounting with a groan Val rubbed soreness from his back as boys not much older than fifteen winters past their name day emerged from nowhere to attend the horses. There was a mechanical lack of emotion as they took the reins from the new arrivals, but anyone who lived in a small town understood such things. Life can’t be excitin’ fer all o’ us. Be thankful to have yer peaceful days. Turning from the roan who happily accepted the transfer of ownership Val surveyed the settlement and its people as the weight of his packs rested firmly on his shoulder.

With harvesting time coming on there were few idle hands about. The inn, which was named The Nine Rings by an ancient looking hanging post, housed the town’s few horses, but was otherwise sluggish despite the homely ambience its exterior design projected. The busiest establishment was fronted by a fairly large gathering of people with various infirmities and the elderly.

“That’s the Wisdom’s hut. Lately the Tar Valon Sisters have been providing ministrations and Healing for the more dire cases,” one of the soldiers supplied after noticing Val’s gaze. “Good timing too. Our elders and young had been hit hard with some ill a few months back. Aid from the capital was…slow with the ascendency of the throne in question.”

The bitterness behind the words brought Val’s head around to find that it’d been the ranking officer speaking. The question on his tongue died as the man’s attention abruptly shifted towards an oncoming unit from the far side of town. These were off-duty or at least were dressed in casual military attire. Most were unarmed, but a few donned short swords at their hip. Their laughter was a stark contrast to the grim silence of the villagers. One of the group noticed Val and the others from afar just as the last of the steeds was stabled. Immediately Val began considering the long sword holstered amongst his things. Through the Emptiness he envisioned how quickly he’d be able to bring his blade to bear should the need arise.

Not fast enough. The conclusion left him on edge and his mood had already been foul from the cloying jealously of not getting to be at Nykk’s side for a majority of the trip.

“Greetings Under-Lieutenant Gamal!” a stocky man brayed affably when the two parties were within striking distance of one another. He stood at the forefront of the men and his bald pate reflected the dull light of the midday sun. “Who might our guests be? Some of ‘em are rather fetching…” the fellow murmured, a general agreement from the men at his back supporting the statement, as Miahala Sedai and the Lady Gaidar were noticed. “…others not so much,” he finished as he looked to where Nykkolaia and the boy stood.

Red rimmed Val’s vision and the drum beat of war thumped in his ears, making his heart quicken. Nykk would weather the insult—he was sure of that—but the calm of Aes Sedai and Asha’man was a skill that yet eluded him. Only the Under-Lieutenant’s timely intervention spared a fray that might have done the mission’s success harm. From Gamal’s rigid stance and tight-lipped visage it appeared he had no love for this lot.

Turning his back on the bald man and his cohorts, he addressed the Grey Tower group. “For the night you’ll stay here at The Nine Rings. Your expenses and arrangements will addressed by Officer Torsh. Please explore the village and acquaint yourselves with its good people as you will. If you have any Healers among you it would do us a great service if you could provide our Wisdom with additional aid. Otherwise I can be found in the left rear room of the inn. Innkeeper Madwen will show you the way.”

Without so much as a glance at the grinning gathering of men, the under-lieutenant headed towards the inn’s entrance. Just before stepping into the common room, which from where Val stood looked as desolate as the rest of Tremonsien, Gamal stopped.

“Forgive my forgetfulness. I neglected to explain that these are guests from the Grey Tower of Hama Valon. They’ve been requested at court on the morrow along with the White Tower envoy. I’m sure a mercenary commander of good standing will receive our guests with the utmost grace. Correct, Commander Assur?”

Whatever the exchange implied it seemed that Gamal had gotten the best of it. As the officer stepped into the inn, Assur studied Val’s group quietly a moment before signaling to his men that it was time to leave. Where they contrived to go was a mystery in such a small town like this, but Val was just grateful they were gone. Letting out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding he pondered the mission’s scope and his usefulness, A mercenary commander in a village? Light…what else awaits us on this bloody mission?

Torsh, the soldier who had drawn the Lady Gaidar’s arrow fire now called everyone’s attention with a cough. “If you wish you may rest for the remainder of the day. In that case simply follow me and I’ll ensure that you’re needs are met. If not you’re…you’re free to do as you please. Take care not to stray too far from town. Assur’s men tend to drink heavily to pass the watch hours during patrols.”

Leaving them with that advice the young man headed into the inn.

The Lady Gaidar’s observation brought a myriad of responses, Sister Miahala and the rumbling giant exuding impassive apprehension. Even Nykk seemed unfazed by the news.

Valadin blinked away his confusion as the Gaidar’s course was set and everyone began drifting towards their interests—which he noticed steered away from the inn. Curiosity pulled him after the Warder who had already stalked towards down the hill after her quarry. Hand already clutching the hilt of the longsword at his waist, he was in mid-decision about whether to follow suit when Nykkolaia’s voice brought his attention to her and the child once again.

Disregarding the disheveled child Val kept met Nykk’s request with a resolute nod. As he moved closer to Nykk and the boy, the small urchin clutched ever tighter to the blue skirts of the Sister fueling Val’s vexation. The mercenaries had left him ill-tempered…but as far as he was concerned this little whelp was the source of all the mission’s woes thus far.

Mid-day had passed, the sun making its slow descent towards the horizon. The square had become somewhat lively as the townsfolk—mostly the firstborns seeking a treat—took a break from harvesting. With the arrival of people came hawkers. These were gentlemen dressed in slightly finer clothing than the worn hide skins and cotton the farmer’s children donned. Soon the air was heavy with the scents of spice and meat. Even with the seriousness of the earlier events the thought of food tugged at Valadin’s attention; it had been some time since he’d had a decent meat pie. Sahml usually got donations from the town wives so the inn’s larders were usually endowed with more than could be peddled in the course of the day. Usually the leftovers went to stable boys, summer proving to be the best times.

Taking a final look at the retreating forms of Lady Miahala and the large Asha’man Val held the door for Nykk…as well her ward, who leveled a suspicious glare his way; the sentiment was shared between them.

Once inside they were welcomed by a wide-hipped, thick-armed woman. An apron soiled with grease spots draped done her front and the sleeves she wore were rolled up to reveal brawny forearms from the day-to-day activities of a small town inn-keeper. It all might have been intimidating had the impish grin beaming from her round face not been so disarming, “Ho there, travelers! Welcome to the Nine Rings!”

“Maglin Madwen…Maggie, if you would. Torsh told me ‘bout the guests visitin’ Cairhien. Told ‘im sounded good to me s’long as it’s silver in my pocket! Please come on in! Seat yerself…well anywhere really. Most folk won’t come in until after sundown anyway.”

With that the innkeeper busied herself with the distractions of running an inn despite the desolate atmosphere that loomed in a ball of pent-up worry and exhaustion. Carefully picking his way through the forest of unoccupied seats, Val headed towards the back of the common room where a curtain marked an entertainment area for more prominent guests. Well-to-do merchants and nobles holding out of the way gatherings would use such room at the Dancing Cartman. More than once Val and the lads had gotten their hides tanned for trying to steal a peek inside.

Nerves set on edge, Val held the Emptiness close to him. His senses tingled as he took in the surrounding environment, Saidin’s beckon promising to offer him even greater clarity if he only he took it. Ignoring the One Power’s temptation he turned to Nykk…and the boy while probing the room, “Not many people in here, but if I know farmers an’ the like they’ll be lookin’ fer a drink soon. Best take a private room or head to our personal quarters upstairs.”

It felt odd voicing his opinion to an Aes Sedai especially Nykk. She remained unflappable in all thinks, but instinct urged him to do…something in this situation. When his arm brushed against his sword he couldn’t deny the comfort the weapon’s presence gave him. Away from the Tower on his first mission besides Nykk it was the only thing that felt like home.

A lithe young man emerged from a backroom, hair disheveled and eyes bleary as they roused to wakefulness.

“Maggie, some warm wine…something with taste this time.”

Val didn’t hear the innkeeper’s heated barb instead looking to Nykk while the conversation continued.

Huffing through the stalks of tall grass along the countryside Garm swore as sweat stung at his eyes. Had discretion not been important he’d have sawed off the whole of these farmer’s crops on his way to meet the mercenary, but the Lady had impressed the importance of drawing no attention while in Tremonsien. So far he’d been careful. Overhead the sun had dropped considerably low and would soon be setting which meant he’d been circling about for more than an hour since he left the village. While it was unlikely that anyone would take an interest in following a low-ranking officer, caution was why he’d been chosen to act as a liaison for a Cairhienin noblewoman and the Under-lieutenant. That an’ a unscrupulous moral character, he laughed inwardly.

Bitemes had nearly picked him clean by the time he came to a clearing well-off the road. Faded outlines of stars above signaled the evening’s beginning and Garm was glad he’d made it to the meeting ground before night had fallen. The mercenaries were bloodthirsty lot and while they respected the Lady’s orders it wouldn’t take much for them gut him like a goat. Peering over his shoulder one last time he walked around to the backside of a cottage placed seemingly in the middle of nowhere.

“Rather late, aren’t we?” a viperish voice said to him when he rounded the corner. Frozen in place the officer searched about the voice’s owner and reached for his sword when the thud of feet landing behind turned him around. “Too slow.” Radagin tutted, knife point already pressed against the underside of Garm’s chin.

Radagin was a lean man whose skin stretched painfully over bones. More sinew than flesh nearly tall as an Ogier and took wearing loose-fitting hunting clothes no matter the occasion. What Garm found most disturbing about the villainous looking fellow was his face. Where bony described the rest of the man, Radagin’s head was the perfection imitation of a skull with loose bits of skin pulled around it. Sunken eyes and slits for nostrils made him seem as inhuman as he behaved. Of the bloodthirsty dogs that most of these mercenaries were, this man had insatiable taste killing that was apparent to any who met him.

“I come with news for your Captain,” Garm sneered trying to keep the terror from his voice, but the words had come out shriller than he would’ve liked. “Important news,” he insisted.

“You could tell me, friend. I’ll be sure to get it to the Cap’n.”

“No. The Lady will want to know his plans when I return on the morrow,” Garm answered hotly. A small yelp followed a tear of crimson slid down his neck and dotted the color of his tunic.

Just when it seemed there was no avoiding bloodshed, the knifepoint was gone and Radagin was heading towards two horses stabled not far from where they stood. “Fine,” he sighed, waving Garm forward, “Take one of these horses. The camp’ll be where the smoke stack is rising.”

“Your company is bloody camped in the countryside and you’re lighting fires?!” Garm snapped incredulously. He still held his short sword in hand. If he thought it’d have been any use he would ran the filthy degenerate through right there before razing the rest of his ilk within the evening. Unfortunately their forces were needed for the Lady’s plans. Of late Garm knew less and less of what this meant of the promises that were made to him.

“Don’t worry that little head of your, Officer. Most people’ll assume that it’s hunters or farmers out for the evening. Not to mention we’ve got scout across the countryside enough to warn us of anything serious…such as a group of channelers visiting the little hilltop village.”

The smile that graced that cruel skeletal face was enough to instill nightmares. Garm readied for a fight when Radagin turned to him, but the man raised his hands in submission. “No tricks. Promise. Head on out to the boss. I’ll have the boys make sure you weren’t followed.”

“I wasn’t…” Garm growled as he pulled himself into the saddle.

“Then we’ll have little work to do for the night.”

Eager to be away from cutthroat and his edged words, the soldier took off on the provided stallion at a gallop, making for the east where a tendril of smoke was barely visible in the setting sunlight.

The boy glanced at Valadin once earning a glower, but released Nykkolaia’s waist enough for the Aes Sedai to remove her cloak. A ready-made table awaited them in the room which was lit more candlelight that seemed necessary.

Memories of another candlelit evening drew Val’s eyes to Nykk, a hunger in them that he couldn’t hide though he said nothing before stepping outside for a brief moment to have dinner brought to the chamber. The waiting servant was professional in his bearing, bowing carefully before disappearing down the hallway that they’d come by. When Val came back to the room, the child was seated at the small round table, legs swinging from his too-tall chair.

Though light brightened the room as if daylight were trapped in with them, there were dark corners and it was to these the boy’s eyes focused on uncertainly before looking down at his filthy hands. “A drink, then,” Val said after a time.

Along the walls were shelves stocked with earthen pottery and bejeweled goblets that were likely only used when entertaining guests of some import. A rug sewn with filigreed spools were at the feet furthering his suspicion that Tower envoys received the best of everything while away on missions. Grabbing three simply made mugs he set the table for three though he didn’t ask if Nykk wanted a drink. A pitcher of wine sat in the middle of the table and it was the sort of day that made drinking all the more appropriate.

Pouring the Aes Sedai first, Val filled his mug then sparingly added some drink to the final mug before sliding it to the miserable brat. The wine was rich. Not fruity like the Tower’s, but there was still a taste to it that made him appreciate the sophistication of it even if he wasn’t much of a connoisseur. Not the kind o’ drink a man can get right on, but it’ll do for the time bein’, he decided.

The silence felt as though it would stretch on forever and Valadin had no patience for games. “So this woman, ya gonna tell us what that’s all ‘bout, boy?” he questioned over the rim of his mug, brow arched expectedly.

A sound in the room made him think that perhaps Nykk didn’t appreciate his methods so he didn’t press further though the show he made of removing his sword belt and setting it close by—all while holding the boy’s eyes—seemed to make enough of an impression to get things moving.

“L-l-like I said. She says she’s…she’s from Ter…Vamon? Where the Eyes City come from,” the boy explained face shadowed by the straggly mane of hair that defied any semblance of order. “She come from there sayin—sayin’ that she’ll help us.”

“Help you how?” Val asked out of pure curiosity. This time he was certain Nykk was about ready to box his ears for cutting in.

“See, the old folk ‘round here were gettin’ all sick like this past winter. Most o’ ‘em dyin’ an’ the Speaker he…well he lost his wife. Weren’t much he could do, but he tried. Then them e-eye city? The Woman an’ her kind came an’ offered us Healin’ an’ such.”

The boy fell silent after this, tears choking his next words. Val should’ve felt guilty, but all he felt was annoyed. He took another sip of wine before finding a place by the door. Might be better to have Nykk sit at the table with the lad than him hovering menacingly.

“Me mam…an’ da…oh, da,” came the sad whimper after a time. “They got sick…so sick. They went to the woman hopin’ she’d help them. Everyone knew what was happenin’ to most people that went to her for help. So many children were left without parents an’ carted off to the city. To that new…new…poorhouse!”

An orphanage? Val wondered though he kept silent. Only the boy’s muffled cries filled the room now, but there was no room left in his heart for such suffering. Too much of his own hurt still lingered too close to the surface.