The Grey Tower

Avram casually strode into the kitchen, hands in his pockets. He had made a point of getting to know just about everyone in the kitchens, with the exception of the Mistress of the Kitchens. She interacted a little too closely with those in charge for his purposes. He wanted access to the rumors and blind eye turned to him stealing food, not closer attention from the people running the show. But today it didn't much matter, so long as he wasn't turned out. He had teased out what seemed to be a very intriguing truth from some scattered morsels of information that had come to his attention. As far as he knew, he would be one of a very small number of people who had access to all the information and would take the time to figure it out.

He saw the person who had brought him here sitting in a corner, seeming to almost blend into the wall. He was dressed simply and bent to make himself seem small and unimportant. Avram knew, because it was almost exactly what he would have been doing in the man's place. He held a knife in one hand and a potato in the other, turning to remove the peel in one long, smooth spiral before dropping it into a bucket on the left and reaching for a new one from a bucket to his right. Avram watched out of the corner of his eye for a few repetitions as he chatted with one of his more frequent correspondents, waiting for something to give away the man's disability. It was tough to spot, but there was a consistent brief hesitation as he reached for a new potato to peel, his hand brushing against them and readjusting to grip every time. His movements were smooth so long as he could use his sense of touch to compensate, but Avram was sure about it now. He was definitely blind. This was the man he was looking for.

He made his excuses and walked over to the man. Light I hate this part. The approach to someone new, or an unknown situation, was the worst part of every operation. His nerves faded as he got into it, but starting it was never okay. He couldn't use the Void for this, couldn't risk sounding flat and emotionless. This needed to look casual, and sound it to anyone who couldn't actually hear the words about to come out of his mouth. He leaned up against the wall just out of reach of the man and looked out over the room, for all the world like he just wanted to be out of the way. The bustle of the room would cover his words well enough that he probably couldn't be heard much further away than the blind man.

"Weland, I'd like to introduce myself. My name is Avram. I'd hold my hand out for you to shake but I think that would be cruel." Let's get this over with. Right to the point. He kept his voice steady through force of will and long practice at quelling shaking words and trembling hands. "I've heard an odd story lately, and I thought you might appreciate the coincidence. It happened before your time here, but a man, an Asha'man in fact, was caught in one of the recent attacks on the tower." He shook his head. "Terrible, terrible stuff. No one quite seemed to know what had happened to him, but he retreated to his quarters for quite a while. A couple of people say that one of the worst things that could happen to a channeler was his issue, that he had lost his sight. It doesn't matter too much though, since he suddenly retired quite recently."

He paused for a minute before continuing. "You know, it's kind of a funny thing. Just shortly after he left, a new servant came to work at the Tower. No one seemed to know where he came from. I mean, there were a few stories, but they all seemed to trace back to a very similar dozen or so." He whistled softly. "It took quite a bit of work to figure that out. A planted rumor always leaves its fingerprints if you know how to look, and do so long enough. It really was some very, very good work though. Anyway, so this servant is immediately accepted to work in all sorts of places that, unofficially, someone has to be here a while to earn. Aes Sedai and Asha'man quarters, carrying messages, that sort of thing. And it's a bit of a crazy coincidence, but this servant just happens to be as blind as Emmond Salere Asha'man was rumored to be."

His words seemed to hang in the air between them for a moment, despite the noise masking them.

"It's a funny thing how coincidences work out, isn't it?"

It was an ordinary morning for Weland, servant of the Tower. As usual, he woke up at before the first bell and practiced his daily exercises. After he dropped by the kitchens for a quick bite of breakfast and brought a tray to Elia Sedai, he sat down with a tub of potatoes and set to work. As he peeled the potatoes, he listened to the talk of the kitchens. Servants complained about their spouses, boasted of their children, and gossiped about their neighbors. Learning ranks usually kept silent, especially when the Mistress of Kitchens was present, except for occasional exchanges of homework or giggles over the most attractive Gaidin.

Although it may have been mind-numbing to anyone else, the daily flow of ordinary folk fascinated him. Weland had lived a life far from normality; and despite himself, he felt a twinge of envy.

He had been working quietly for about twenty minutes when a soft voice began to speak.

“Weland, I’d like to introduce myself…"

The man talked far too much. Weland let the stranger’s voice wash over him, noting the swift precision of a Cairhienin accent. Avram. He was not familiar with the name. One of the Learning Ranks, perhaps? Though he had a hand in selecting new recruits into the Black Ajah, others usually performed the filtering process.

His face stayed calm; the movements of his knife remained steady. Impressive that someone had tracked those rumors he’d planted. Annoying that his tracks had not remained hidden. Unfortunate that this apparently bright young man may have stumbled upon something that Emmond preferred to remain secret. Grim determination replaced his boredom, and the change drew Elia’s attention. He sent her calming thoughts. All is well. I don’t need you, nor your Talents in Compulsion. At least, not yet. Not until I learn what he wants.

"It's a funny thing how coincidences work out, isn't it?” finished the man.

Emmond smiled pleasantly.

“Very funny indeed,” he said, blandly. He turned to look up at where the man’s voice came from, though his hands did not stop their work. “My pleasure to meet you, Master Avram. What do you want?"

What do you want?

Well. That was a little unexpected. He had fully expected to have to deal with at least one or two rounds of denials. But he had wanted to get straight to the point.

"My reading of the situation is that, one way or another, you have lost most of what you worked hard for a long bloody time to gain. But while I assume something happened to your strength in the Power, I very much doubt you lost any of your wit or skill. As I said, the rumors were masterfully planted. If you'd had more people to work with I never would have realized and that's all I really do these days." He smiled slightly. "If you've heard any of the recent gossip about the ever interesting Zarius Asha'man, destroyer of the Armory and weapon of choice of our recent invaders, that was mostly mine." His voice hardened. "I don't think those details should be forgotten."

He shook his head. "But I forget myself. I'm looking to expand my horizons a bit. Maybe peddle some of the information I've gathered. Drop a hint or two where it could do good. Convince some of the learners and guards and good people of Hama Valon that they should act in what is surely their own interest. Provide a game of chance or two for the students of the tower who need a good break." A shrug. "The list goes on. I tell you this not because I trust you, but because I think you need to know of my ambitions before you hear my request."

"Emmond Salere was one of the most respected members of the Grey Ajah. He was a byword for diplomacy and tact, for bringing people around to positions that were barely in their own interest. If I could have his ear, even sometimes, for some advice and perhaps support among the servants, it would be well worth almost anything he could ask."

"What I could give, however, is a way for you to exert your will where you want it without whoever is trying to pull your strings now knowing. You would hardly be peeling potatoes in the kitchen of your own will. Perhaps one day you will find a way to wrap those strings around the puppeteer's neck and do a little pulling of your own. But for now, just a chance to affect things here the way you want to, not the way they want to."

Flattery, preening, and nonsense. Though disguised by pretty words, the message was clear. Avram wanted to start an illegal gambling ring - and perhaps sell some information on the side. As far as Emmond was concerned, running a gambling ring was good for only one thing: making money. And the two people who held his bonds - the Keeper of Archives and a Sitter of the Indigo Ajah - would be unlikely to be touched by simple coin. He would hardly be gaining an advantage on them.

But the idea still intrigued him. Crime attracted criminals, and Emmond was no exception. The idea had a few problems, of course. Soldiers, novices, and Drin had no money. Even if they had outside funds, they were not allowed access to the banks in Hama Valon. The higher learning ranks, on the other hand, were given a small stipend by the Tower. If they were caught laundering Tower money...

Problems and consequences had never stopped Emmond.

He gestured to the bucket of potatoes. "There is some comfort in simple tasks," he said. "Want to help? Take a seat."

A simple paring knife appeared in his hand as if by magic. He flipped it around and offered it hilt-first. They sat in relative silence for a few minutes. Then Emmond spoke, his voice low and barely audible over the noise of the kitchens.

"You seem to know a lot about me, Master Avram," he began. "But I don't know you. If you don’t trust me - and if I don’t trust you - then this relationship of ours will not fare well, understand? If this is to succeed, then you must not hold anything back. Neither will I. If at any time either of us distrust the other, then this is over. I am not an easy man to persuade, Avram. If you want my help, then my price will be high. But first, I have a few questions. Why are you doing this?"

Avram accepted the knife and pulled a stool over, adjusting his posture as he sat to be as unassuming as possible. People's eyes didn't tend to stop unless something stood out, and he shouldn't right now, despite his slightly unusual clothes. Lots of servants wore grey, and the uniform wasn't obvious from the back. He wasn't nearly as proficient in the ancient art of potato peeling as the great Emmond Salere, but the peeled potatoes mounted steadily.

Trust? Avram snorted quietly. "Master Weland, I trust you almost exactly as much as I think you trust me. I trust you to do whatever you are forced to and whatever you think is in the best interests of Master... Weland. Just as you know I will act in my own best interests. So long as we can be of use to each other, I don't see any reason for distrust. As for why I am doing this..." he sat for a few moments, the knife blade removing skin from the potatoes under his fingers.

"I don't particularly care about money, beyond being well fed and able to lay hands on what I need. I don't particularly care about titles or airs. I care about power. I want to be able to affect the world, to make things change. So I start small. A few Novices and Soldiers who owe me favors doesn't matter much right now, but I can work with it." He laughed softly and bitterly. "I've made the mistake of starting too big too many times to do it again."

Avram looked up at Emmond and smiled wryly. "I suppose that more than answers your first question. Let me put one to you. What would your price be?"

Emmond tossed a potato into the bucket.

"Just Weland," he said. Then he leaned forward. His voice rose incredulously, though still hardly above a whisper. "Hold on. You have done this before - and failed? What is different between then and now? I can tell you already that the size of your operations isn't the problem. By their very nature, your business necessitates a large network. No one throws money in the ring for a small pot. No one trusts facts from someone with no connections. You can't tell me that you need help reaching out, while insisting on 'starting small.' To succeed - to really succeed, we will need to push the boundaries of what's possible. Growth - rapid growth - is inevitable."

As he spoke, he kept his posture carefully relaxed. They were just two working men peeling potatoes in a busy kitchen.

"You tracked me down," said Emmond. "You're a man who knows what he's about. No, your operations were not the problem. But if you count favors, if you care only for influence, if you don't see your people as individual human beings instead of avenues for power, then you won't get far. If you think that you can only trust me to act selfishly - then you should find another man. If that is what you think, then I am not the man you want. You want a man who will watch out for you, Avram. A man you can rely on.

"Imagine this. What if one of us gets caught? What if a competitor tries to kill us? Trust becomes very important in hard situations. I suspect that you've been in your share of those - a reasonable man like you, surely you understand. If this is going to work, then I do not intend to be one of those you use and betray at the right opportunity. If this is going to work, then we will need to protect each other, even if it costs us. If this is going to work, then I will need to know everything you know. As you've noticed, I am blind. I will need you to be my eyes. It is the only way I can provide you with the correct suggestions.

"And here's my first suggestion. You need friends, not debtors. As I said, if at any time either of us distrust the other, then this is over. Until then, I demand your absolute trust. Consider it part of my price."

He allowed the man to think for a moment before continuing on to answer his question.

"I want your trust, loyalty, honesty, and respect. Oh, and a small stipend, I suppose. There can be no secrets between us. You can ask me anything you wish and I will give an honest answer, though I strongly recommend that you ask of me no more than you want to know. My personal life will remain personal - you will respect that, as I will respect yours. And in return, everything you know will be mine."

Emmond grinned at his potato-peeling partner, showing a brief flash of charm - and then just as quickly, it was gone.

"Scale wasn't the problem." Avram sat for several long seconds of silence, brooding over the harsh memory. "The problem was that I went after a bad target. House Damodred wasn't the best place to start. And using myself as the agent, without any real leverage, wasn't the best way to start. And as for the other time - House Damodred has a long memory. And House Nolaisen doesn't forget quickly either. After my family disowned me to avoid retribution, setting up in the same city under their noses was setting myself up for failure. Which was a real shame, since I was doing fairly well until they managed to notice me again. And bought off the magistrate judging my crew. There's something special about watching the people you care about die in front of you because of a screw up when you were fourteen."

He shrugged. "Growth needs a seed and fertile soil. This will be my seed, and the Tower," he started to gesture before realizing it would serve no purpose, "the soil."

There was another pause as Avram picked up yet another potato to peel. "Absolute trust is an easy thing to ask Weland. I would certainly trust you for any number of things. But while there are some things I know, there are many that I don't. I managed to puzzle out a sequence of events. What caused those events is a different matter altogether. I won't ask, since I doubt you would tell me, but I have no doubt there are other things going on that I know nothing about." There was a significant pause. "Yet."

"I trust that you will do as you say however. And I will not lie to you nor press you for answers you are not willing to give. I have been very open in my answers to you. Your price lies very much in line with what I see as my "crew". I do not work with people who owe me. If anything, that is what my work is. The people I work with, my crew, are the family I claim as my own. The house that birthed me threw me from its doorstep as soon as pressure was applied. The family that I found I will fight to my last breath to protect and uplift. I failed to protect my family before. It will never happen again."

Avram took a breath, calming himself once more. The flash of cold rage had seeped into his voice more than he meant it to.

"The stipend will be yours, as soon as operations can cover most of it. I will not ask about your personal life and you will not ask about mine." He flashed a grin out of habit. "Unless we become friends of course. And just as you will answer my questions truthfully, I will answer yours and keep you appraised of relevant information. I don't guarantee you will know everything I do, but I will not keep information relevant to our business from you. Fair?"

Emmond noted the shift in Avram's stance. It did not surprise him. Once he understood the man's goal, he simply reframed the argument to improve his own interests as well. For example, Avram had approached him with a secret. Perhaps he had expected Emmond to deny it. But there was no point in denying what the man clearly thought of as fact. If he had argued, then perhaps Avram would have tried to use the information as a bargaining chip. It would have ruined the entire mood of the encounter.

Instead, he found out what the man intended to do with the information and positioned himself on the same side of the table. This did not go entirely smoothly, since Avram had shown some slight resistance to "trusting" him. Yet Emmond had already realized that Avram sought his advice - and that meant he was trusted, to some extent. So he forced Avram to admit that he wanted more from Emmond. He wanted Emmond's loyalty, respect, and trust - and to add Emmond to his motley "crew".

Perhaps he even wanted Emmond's friendship. It was a simple matter for Emmond to claim and reflect those desires. Then he allowed Avram to make the offer himself.

Thus a partnership was born.

It was all very reasonable. Emmond approached his diplomacy with nearly as much calculation as a White. But unlike the White Ajah, he embraced the power of emotion and cared about worldly affairs. And he was not so concerned with seeking truth as with advancing his own interests. Some people believed that he could work miracles. Those people were fools. He relied on the basic tools of negotiation and persuasion, just like anyone else. Only a few things made him stand out. One, he had a calm and patient temperament. Two, he had honed these skills for a long, long time. And three, he was an excellent liar and actor.
--- He picked up the last potato from the bucket.

Old memories were beginning to rise, memories of a young boy left to fend for himself in an unkind world. A desperate time when he had learned to steal and kill and lie and do anything he had to do to survive. And now it comes back again full circle, he thought darkly. He had no intention on truly joining Avram's "crew" - because in life, as with anywhere else, alliances were temporary.

But he smiled pleasantly.

"Fair. We understand each other," he said.

"Is there any way you can be forced to betray me?" asked Avram. "I am not well versed in the Power. How likely is it that me and mine, or I suppose ours, will be affected by whatever caused such drastic change in your circumstances?"

Emmond's jaw tightened. His voice changed almost imperceptibly, its warm baritone slightly muted. "I highly doubt it will affect you," he said. He tossed the last potato into the bucket a little too forcefully. It clattered against the metal. "In fact I'm certain of it."

He rose to his feet and held out his right hand. "Thank you for your assistance, Master Avram." He felt Avram's hesitation and laughed warmly. "You did not insult me," he said. He clasped Avram's hand firmly. Then he bent to lift the bucket.

"Don't write any messages to me. Just set a date, time, and location. We can speak then."