The Grey Tower

The eighth floor of the Tower held general purpose rooms for the Ajahs. One of the rooms for the Indigo Ajah had been chosen for a meeting between the First Seeker and the Master of Training. In light of the Seanchan siege, there were increased risks of leaving Hama Valon, and a need for a more time-efficient way to judge whether a Drin was worthy of the mantle of a Ji'val. Thus the Warder Yards were now looking for a ter'angreal for the purpose, akin to the Three Arches that each novice and soldier stepped through. How similar or not had yet to be decided: in fact, that was the point of this meeting.

Sitter Elia Sedai of the Indigo Ajah smoothed the skirts of her blue Cairhienin dress, with its high neckline and snug-fitting curves. She wanted to put on a good face for the Ajah, so wearing anything too provocative or out-of-place was out of the question. Beyond that, Elia had been spending far too much time in revealing clothes as of late, so the conservative attire seemed like a positive re-adjustment.

The door opened to admit her brother. His brawny frame was covered by a pale blue shirt and black breeches, the fancloak making the doorway shimmer in an eye-wrenching motion. A fresh cut ran above his left eyebrow, but otherwise he looked well. The last time she had seen him was in the Infirmary, and even then it wasn't up close. "Elia." Cool grey-blue eyes looked around the room, seemingly taking everything in at a glance. After a pause, he took a chair some distance away from her. Wariness seeped from him, more so than normal. He sniffed, which she knew was a sign that he was not pleased, and he was looking for trouble or an argument. Icy Aes Sedai serenity was all she offered in return.

"So this is how it is then?" Ravak grumbled. "Are you going to tell me why I deserve this, or do I have to guess?"

"What are you referring to?" If her tone was a little haughty, well, it probably made no difference. Ravak saw through the subtle changes she made with her voice.

"Mmhm." He nodded, as if he was hearing the answer he anticipated. "Well, once we have this done, I'll get out of your way again." And that was that, apparently. He pulled a book out from behind his back, presumably tucked in at his waist, and started to read.

Elia frowned, but she didn't tsk. Instead she rose smoothly from her chair and approached one of the side tables. She lifted a pitcher of fruit punch and poured out two glasses, picking one up in her hand and floating the other over to Ravak. He took the glass with an appreciative nod, but his eyes never seemed to leave the page.

"The First Seeker will be along presently," Elia announced.

Another nod, then "Illyria Sedai? I heard. Do you have to worry about your seat in the Hall?"

She shook her head. "I don't think so. I don't believe I would have been asked here if not for my talents. We're about to construct a ter'angreal that may be used for generations. We need the most skilled and the most knowledgable minds for this task, and those are also what the Hall needs."

Rav shrugged, still reading. Like this, he didn't look like much of a threat. Slouching in the chair, his eyes transfixed on the page, it wouldn't be much trouble to bound and gag him. But he was dangerous, all because of his sniffing. If she had access to that gift, she would have the Black Ajah working like a beautiful ter'angreal in no time. But she didn't, and she wasn't going to damn her brother the same way she was. Either the Light would prevail, or the Shadow would. Either way, a Darrow would live. Family was the one solitary thing that Elia could still set above her work for the Black Ajah. Everything else, however, was expendable.

The last time she corresponded with Ravak Darrow, it had been an angry, terse, informal missive - one of his Drin had dumped a box of insects into an already stressful lecture. At the time, the Indigo could not have begun to imagine just how vital that lecture series had been: at least twenty students were better educated and and prepared for the devastation of the the Seanchan siege. When the First Inquisitor and Head Clerk asked that she continue the series, she did not hesitate; Seandar was relentless. They now knew how many marath'damane were here and that the Grey Tower would not be easy prey.

The Seanchan would be back and ignorance was a luxury that no one could afford.

It seemed that the Master of Training agreed: his letter, penned in a surprisingly elegant hand, requested that the Indigo Ajah help devise a new first raising test for his initiates. If the Seanchan attempted to surprise them in them again, a defenseless Drin would have no chance of surviving if she found their camp while stumbling back home. There was also the matter of time: every moment had been vital in the defense of the Tower. A ten-day traipse in the woods was not exactly efficient when the Tower needed every able-bodied fighter at their beck and call.

He had already set an appointment - the fact that his twin sister was her First Sitter made it easier to collaborate - and the pair of them were waiting silently when she arrived. Elia Darrow, ageless and beautiful, was dressed in a very conservative fashion; the Cairheinin cut drew muted surprise from the First Seeker, but nothing was outwardly shown. Decades worth of practice kept Illyria's demeanor calm as an undisturbed pond. The Indigo was nothing if she was not tranquil, perpetually unperturbed, and observant: Ravak Darrow read silently, though he did not seem to be enjoying the task. His brows were pinched; he was not a man of many words and did not strike her as the emphatic type, but tension hung in the air between brother and sister.

Conversely, Elia showed no outward signs of distress; the Shienaran sister was intently focused on ignoring whatever the source of the Master of Training's tension was. Illyria was more than willing to accommodate the pair of them: she had no wish to pry into family affairs, and so long as it did not interfere with Elia's capabilities, it was none of her business. The First Seeker poured herself a glass of punch - it was a gaudy shade of red, like something that would have been more at home at a feast-day - but a chilled drink was never unwelcome during talks. She glanced again at the Master of Training, still reading with an expression made of stone, and she wondered how long he would want to discuss the specifics of what he had in mind. She had not met the man before and Warders were not exactly renown for their talkativeness. If I didn't know better, she mused as she took a seat across from the twins, I'd say that he's glowering at that book.

"Sister," Illyria began formally, and met Elia with a level look; icy grey eyes met vibrant green, and the Sitter remained impenetrable and unreadable. Illyria smiled thinly, the gesture not reaching her eyes, then turned her attention to her brother, "Master Darrow." For the span of a heartbeat, she considered smiling more genuinely for the sullen Master of Training, as if that could ease the tension in the air. But unintended consequences were variables that were too far beyond her control for her comfort: there would be no telling what Elia would make of it, what he would make of it, or what they would make of it together if this was some ploy between them to find a crack in her armor: Ravak received the same cold ghost of a smile that his sister had.

She paused to take a sip of the fruit punch that had been left for them, and was pleasantly surprised by the intense flavor. "Please," she continued in that same serene voice, "Tell me how the Indigo Ajah might assist the Warder Yards. What do you have in mind, Master Darrow?"

Ravak closed the book, and laid it down on his lap. Truth be told, he hadn't really been reading - it was the same passage about axe hafts he'd read before - but it made people less aware they were being watched. The First Seeker seemed cool, maybe even cold. It didn't quite match his sister's expression, but there was a lot more going on there. And a lot I apparently no longer need to know. Bad enough that Mirin was being distant; it didn't help that Elia was mirroring the Blue. He met the thin smile with a much warmer one - neither Elia nor Mirin were going to trounce about on his mood.

"First Seeker," he said respectfully, "I appreciate the time you are taking for me. Both of you." He cast that warm smile towards his sister, if a little mockingly. His hands came together over the book as he leaned forward, his tone friendly. "As I said in my letter, I am looking for another way to test our potential Ji'val. I think over my tenure as the Master of Training, I've seen about half of the Mountains of Mist, and I don't think there's a spot anywhere between here and there that hasn't seen the hoofprints of a Gaidin's horse or a Drin's boots."

"But after this siege by, well..." He was aware of Illyria's ancestry, if nothing else. "After this siege, it seems less prudent that a handful of Gaidin and a Drin go sauntering into the west for a few days, leaving the Tower without capable soldiers, and also placing a Drin into potential, unforeseen harm." The Survival Test was meant as just that, a test of survival. Not a precarious expedition that could lead to the Drin encountering a roaming band of Seanchan. Or Trollocs. Or Whitecloaks. Or the Creator knew what else.

Ravak watched both faces carefully. "I know of the Three Arches." Nothing touch either woman's visage. "I, of course, don't know exactly what it is that they do, or how they... work?" He touched his right sleeve irritably. "But you use it to test Novices and Soldiers. I think I am looking for something similar, if that is possible." It was time for his lips to narrow to a thin line. "I have been reliably informed by my peers that the Three Arches would not suit the Drin, which was my first thought. So a new ter'angreal would be what I'm after, I am guessing."

He sat back, spreading his hands. "That is why I have come to you. The Indigo Ajah are the keepers of many a wondrous thing. Maybe you have some insight into what can be done to facilitate my request, if it is at all possible. Something to test the Drin within the confines of the Tower's walls."

Illyria considered the Master of Training's proposal silently, sipping her punch as he spoke. Everything he said was logical, clear - there was nothing nonsensical about it - but she wondered how he had come to know of the Three Arches. She was careful to make sure that her gaze did not slip to Elia Sedai in surprise, as she did not want to openly accuse her of breaking tradition for her brother, and decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he had spoken with the Mistress of Novices and with the Master of Training before deciding this; Ravak seemed like the sort of man that was prepared for everything.

"I'm afraid that I have only average Talent with ter'angreal, Master Darrow. I understand hypothetical constructs, but lack the innate skill. Fortunately for you and for me, it is my understanding that Elia is extraordinarily gifted." Here she paused and shifted her gaze towards her Sister; it was not quite a fond or glowing gaze, and her expression was still murky, emotion walled off with cool serenity. "Between the two of us, I am sure that we can accomplish your goal." Elia's accomplishments were renowned, and now that she had access to Jerid's records, she could see that Elia was one of the most Talented that had passed through the Tower halls in decades. Creating marvels seemed to be easy as breathing for her. Muted admiration shone in her expression; though a much younger version of her would have been envious, she had grown enough to see the benefits of convergent skill.

"It is forbidden to speak of what occurs in the Three Arches," Illyria said dryly and a wry smile made itself at home on her features. She placed her glass on the table and folded her hands. The Master of Training already knew of their existence, and barring him from key information for the sake of secrecy was pointless, especially when one considered he was commissioning a similar item for his Yards. "But no one is barred from discussing what the Three Arches are." Her tone was light and less formal, now. She would not say that she was comfortable with the pair of them, but it was good to be useful again and among the living again. "They are ter'angreal that involve alternate dimensions, tied to key points in an individual's life, and they involve a choice." Zaephra Wyrd's voice rung in her head, bouncing off the inside of her skull"What was, what is, and what will be. The way will come back but once." Illyria glanced at Elia, wondering idly if the First Sitter thought she was being too free with her tongue. If she takes an issue with it, I'm sure we'll have plenty of quality time to discuss the matter...

"The Arches test one's commitment to the Tower," she said finally. "It would take a great deal of study to replicate, but I believe that it can be done. What would you like to test in your candidates? And... I am not sure if you are aware of this, or if I am allowed to say, but considering the circumstances... Students can become trapped forever in the Arches. Would you like a similar arrangement for your Drin?" No one enjoyed considering losing viable students to fickleness, but it was worth asking: the Master of Training was orchestrating this effort and if she and Elia were to work for months on end, it would be vastly disappointing to find too late that they had missed a detail.

The First Seeker expected the contractual negotiation to last into the afternoon. If they needed to call for a meal, Illyria would happily do so. What he was asking was no small undertaking. A new ter'angreal of this nature would require precision and planning, even with Elia's skill.

Her legs wanted to give out from underneath her, but she forced them to hold. She could have been clad in the thickest folded steel for the look she levelled at Mirin Sedai, instead of as naked as the day she was born. Fury blazed within her and hatred was painted on her face. "This is a wicked thing. Wicked." She directed her scorn not just at the Mistress of Novices, but at all of the sisters. Nine of them - nine! - and all of them let this monstrous thing happen.

"No."

Two pairs of eyes turned towards the junior Indigo sister, one as cold as stone, the other of ice. Illyria clearly had some comment to make, but it was Ravak who spoke first. "No?" That was a question, not the command that she herself had proclaimed, although his hard gaze didn't seem at all uncertain. He turned his attention back to the First Seeker in short order. "That makes a certain sense. That's why novices and soldiers don't return." He nodded to himself. "I will... have to think on it." He stole the briefest glance back at Elia. She felt like a novice caught by two Accepted doing something she shouldn't. Embarrassment reddened her features as much as anger did.

The premise seemed simple enough, but the execution? Rav felt like he was fumbling about in the dark. All of his years working and studying at the Grey Tower did not cover alternate realities, or how to make the weaves to construct a ter'angreal, or about vacuoles. That was the Old Tongue, and he didn't venture to ask what under the Light that was; he felt uneducated as it was, between the two Indigos.

He rubbed at his bearded chin, peering at the notes that the three of them had come up with. Some servant had come with parchment and quills and inkwells, and Rav had made a bloody mess, so unused to normal quills as he was. But the last thing I'm going to do is hand over my ter'angreal to the Indigos. He made small excuses for the mess, hiding the rest of his discomfort behind his title. If the Master of Training wanted to ruin parchment then he was an idiot, but at least he was the superior idiot in the room.

"Let me see if I get this straight..." It wasn't the first time he had to clarify something out loud, for his own sanity, but the two women are getting accustomed to it. "So it is possible, at least in theory, to build some sort of object that my students can step into. Like an archway, but not necessarily an archway?" Rav saw no looks correcting him, so he continued. "And when they enter or cross under this arch, they find themselves in some sort of dream...?"

That was a misstep, from the look on Elia's face. "An alternate reality. More akin to a portal world, brother."

He spread his hands, although he didn't feel like apologising. "A portal world then," he added uncertainly. His grasp of Tel'aran'rhiod was shaky at best, but portal worlds? He would have to find a book on that subject to read through. "But it can be tailored to my needs, and to the particulars of the individual involved? Alright, I think I see." Light, if we didn't need this, I would very much like to get back to real things. Like swords. And other things that make sense. He lifted his cup of punch and supped on it whilst pulling thoughts together. This was all words at the moment, with nothing concrete written. The patience both Aes Sedai showed was commendable.

"Is it possible to... experience an example of this? To see the sort of challenge one of the Drin may face? Or am I asking for too much?" He shook his head dismissively, as if he already had his answer.

The next few hours were surprisingly cordial, despite the veneer of tension that decorated the conversation. Illyria conducted most of her research in solitude and silence, and while the additions that the Darrows made were invaluable - more instrumental in the Master of Training's case - it took time for her to adjust. After all, one could only hide behind a glass of punch for so long. Thankfully, she was not entirely maladapted, and Master Darrow's lack of knowledge helped her to ease her way into the conversation; she enjoyed the compulsory teaching that Aes Sedai and Asha'man were assigned.

It was unsurprising that the Warders were not taught more than they absolutely needed to know about the One Power and Tel'aran'rhoid - and that was to say, they were taught to let the channelers handle it. She and Elia both hypothesized that the Arches were linked to the World of Dreams, and that in order to manipulate the the variables that the Master of Training wanted present that they would need to create a bubble of their own. He ruined several sheets of parchment taking notes and making sense of it all, and the First Seeker had to hide laughter behind a smile. The lovely handwriting in his letter had not been his.

For all his fumbling, she was pleased with his progress: this had all meant less than nothing to him when they arrived, and now he wanted to launch himself into something that he understood more than he had before. Even if it did not come easily to the Master of Training, no one could say that he was not eager and committed - and those were admirable things in a student. Well, not a student, she corrected herself, as she watched him scratch out more notes. But someone willing to learn. His enthusiasm was not matched by many Accepted and Dedicated that she taught who had been innately skilled with the ability to touch the World of Dreams, and she could not quite chalk it all up to the responsibility that he felt for the Yards. The Master of Training had not simply handed off a concept to the adept Indigos and let them handle it; he wanted to understand what he was asking for.

Elia was more of a mystery: she spoke little since her interjection, securely wrapped herself up in her knowledge, and seemingly sealed herself off from the pair of them. Illyria was tempted to prod the Sitter, gingerly poke at the unknown and see if it could be unraveled, but she sensed that it was not the time. Her gaze flicked back to the Master of Training. There was something heavy between the two of them. Family was always complicated; perhaps if they spent time away from Master Darrow, opportunity would present itself, and she would come to know the woman that Jerid had picked. The First Sitter was in no danger of losing her seat, but Illyria disliked uncharted waters. Her recent promotion meant that she could no longer afford to live in solitude.

"Call for dinner," Illyria said, looking at Ravak with a small, cautious smile. "I will have to lay a little groundwork before it can be tested. I can launch you into raw Tel'aran'rhoid with no training if you wish to master that, but if you have no need for the skill, it’s only a waste of precious time." She looked at the small collection of items around them, wondering what would be best to shape into a ter'angreal - it would need to be something that both the Darrows could hold while they slept. The best would have been a necklace, but she was not willing to relinquish the two trinkets that hung around her neck for this.

"Elia," she said, offering the same smile to her Sister, though it wavered slightly with uncertainty, "We'll have need for materials. Dreamwalking ter'angreal for the both of you. If you would like to learn more of Dreamwalking, I could use your help crafting the Dreamshard..."

Rav rose smoothly from his chair with a courteous nod. "I'll see if I can't acquire some more punch whilst we're at it." He moved to the door, colour-shifting cloak swirling behind him. Illyria watched the door shut behind him - the latch had not quite latched into place when Elia spoke.

"I actually possess a Dreamwalking ter'angreal," she said with a cautious tone, "but I have no desire to enter Tel'aran'rhoid." Her lips thinned to a small scowl. "My first and only time in the World of Dreams was unpleasant, to say the least." Elia’s dislike was palpable. Illyria blinked, looked towards the door that the Master of Training had disappeared through, and folded her hands.

“I see.” Her voice was smooth, free of accusation, but laced with surprise. “I assumed that you and I would create the Dreamshard, but I would not want to burden you with an unpleasant task. My skill would assure your safety, but.. I would prefer that you’re comfortable. I can find and train someone else.” The First Seeker looked to the empty chair that the Master of Training had occupied only a few moments before. He clearly wanted to be involved, and though it was not what she had expected, Illyria imagined that Ravak Darrow would not object, so long as everything was properly explained.

Elia considered her offer for a short while, then gave a suprising answer. "I shall assist you,” she said, still wearing a concerned, pinched expression. "I will collect the ter'angreal from my rooms, if it pleases you?"

Illyria considered Elia’s deference: the Sitter made it clear that she was not only untrained, but also uncomfortable. That in itself was a lurking danger. Fear made real in Tel’aran’rhoid was difficult to reign back. “It would please me if you’re comfortable working with me, Elia.” her tone was light, weighed down only by dry humor. “I would take no joy in cornering you and demanding your obedience. I can shape the Dreamshard myself, then pull you through when there’s no danger at all, or you can remain in the waking world. There will be plenty to do here as well.”

Alliances were such pesky, tentative things among Aes Sedai, but Illyria had no desire or need for a disgruntled lackey when there were hordes of Accepted and Dedicated who still had time to sleep or eat. She wanted respect, and more than that, she wanted companionship. The First Seeker knew little of the Shienaran twins, but from the short time she’d spent with them, she had formed a lukewarm appreciation for the both of them - perhaps in time, she would find a friend in one or in them both.

The First Seeker's words seemed like a test or trial. Most of the words that came from an Aes Sedai's lips seemed to prod and poke at things, looking for meanings in intonation or the length of pauses or any other matter of foolishness. Elia was guilty of that herself, and wished for a simpler system. Being First Sitter should have been enough, but apparently not. Elia wasn't Illyria's First Sitter, was not Illyria's choice. Maybe her position was more tenuous than she had thought. That kept her lips thinned and bloodless, but her answers were limited. The Three Oaths prevented outright lies, and too much time spent alone had made her freer with her tongue. It was occasions like these where she thought keeping at least one of the Oaths may have been more advantage than determent.

"I find little discomfort working with you, Illyria. It is just Tel'aran'rhiod that concerns me." Like being subject to a waking nightmare and being powerless to prevent it. She failed to fully suppress a shudder, remembering the hellscape in Jalisa's mind. Elia had never been to Shayol Ghul, but she imagined it was very close to what she'd seen in the Accepted's dreams. "I understand that the World of Dreams is malleable and dangerous to the untrained. I have no desire to place you or myself in any danger."

The Shienaran rose from her chair, pulling her blue silk skirt straight. She knew there were more diplomatic answers to give, but she went for blunt honesty. "I do not feel cornered nor demanded upon." Maybe that's what Illyria expected, being a new First Seeker, having been Mistress of Novices previously, a veritable force for change within the halls of the Tower. Elia had no idea how much older or experienced Illyria was, but the gap had to be sizeable. Still, the Sitter did not like being under the behest of anyone. Emmond's rule was bad enough.

She made her best curtsey, respectfully deep as suitable from a Sitter to the First Seeker. "It is a pleasure to help, to work with both yourself and my brother." She turned to leave, before stopping and returning to face Illyria. "I am grateful that you reached out to me." It didn't require the Oaths to make the truth of that statement clear; her tone said it all.

Pulling the door closed, Ravak stood in the hallway for a moment. All he could hear were muffled voices from the other side of the door, both Indigos continuing the conversation. He gingerly touched his left brow, feeling the scab that was forming over the cut. Nothing to bother a Healer with, unless they offered.

He made his way towards the kitchens. Stopping a servant was all well and good, but his legs had gone stiff from sitting for so long. Plus, he felt a touch exhilarated from the discussion. Energy to burn put a spring in his step as he descended down one of the staircases of the Tower, athletically sidestepping the more graceful Asha'man and Aes Sedai.

It wasn't long thereafter when he was climbing back up towards the fourth floor, taking two steps at a time in his haste. He pushed open the door to the study room without pause to knock. Only Illyria remained.

"I assume Elia will be rejoining us?" inquired Rav with a frown. He slid into his chair soundlessly. "I have questions; personal questions if you will indulge me?" He read ascent in the First Seeker's slight nod. "Someone told me once that they were able to use Tel'aran'rhiod to look into a person's dreams. How would I go about doing that, if I wanted to?"