The Grey Tower

Upon his arrival in the Grey Tower, Jaren had been tested for the ability to learn to channel, and when he passed, he’d promptly been assigned a room and issued a uniform. There had been but a minimal amount of questions about his past. He supposed that if anyone felt the need to check his story, it would be easy enough; his family was not quite world-famous but reasonably well-known, and Jaren himself had made something of a name for himself in the recent years if one knew where to ask. The practitioners of any given trade tended to be aware of each other, at least those operating internationally.

Thus far, everything had gone exactly as he’d hoped. Now, however, he wasn’t sure what was supposed to happen next, and he was beginning to admit to himself that he was perhaps a little out of his depth. It was not that the Tower itself was intimidating — though it was, he had to admit — or the unfamiliar feel of the stark black uniform, which did look quite dashing, but simply that until now he’d had a plan. Get to the Grey Tower, get tested; simple as it was, it had been something. Now, from here on, he was improvising, and that had never been one of his strengths, not in an unfamiliar setting anyway. Despite his years of travelling and doing business far from the watchful eyes of his father, he’d never quite learnt to just throw himself into new situations if he had no way of predicting the outcome.

Maybe he had inherited more of his father’s controlling tendencies than he’d imagined, he thought with a grimace. Fancy that...

Jaren resisted the urge to fidget as he waited. The officer in charge of students of the saidin-channelling variety had told him that there would be someone along shortly, to get him acquainted with the Tower and life therein. Someone called Alric Aurella; a Dedicated, which Jaren thought sounded like a rank. He was fairly sure he’d heard of the Black Tower having Dedicated. Would the Grey Tower use the same ranking system? Then again, its inhabitants did call themselves Aes Sedai and Asha’man, like those of the White and the Black Towers, so it stood to reason that the middle ranks might be named similarly, too.

Finally one of the people going about their business seemed to be heading towards Jaren with a purposeful stride, and Jaren perked up. Was he supposed to stand at attention? Maybe salute? The other man wasn’t full-ranked Ash’man, though. Jaren stood up a little straighter nonetheless. “Excuse me, sir, might you be the Dedicated Alric Aurella?” he asked, sticking out his hand before he could think better of it. He had no idea, after all, if people generally shook hands around here. “I’m Jaren Marle,” he added. “Soldier. Well, that much was probably obvious.”

Freedom was always a little overwhelming for Alric. In the army his life had been all about marching and fighting or preparing to march or fight. He had had all the time in the world living in Trissalles, but it had nearly killed him. Life as a Soldier had been a return to form of sorts. Now, as a Dedicated, with the ability to create his own schedule, he worked extra hard to prevent himself from languishing. He filled his schedule with predawn sword practice and morning channeling practice. His afternoons were devoted to the study of philosophy, history, rhetoric, and science. These days he spent most of his free time working on side projects of his own or with the Novice Affanen. He preferred to combine the two activities, but it didn’t take a sage to see that he was wasting his time trying to study.

One one such free stretch, when he couldn’t find Affie, he sat huddled in the library working on a position paper. A cold wind blew outside and rattled the windows. Alric settled deeper into his armchair, not envying any poor sod who would have to go out there.

A shadow fell across his chair and he looked up to see Accepted Elise standing over him, leaning against his chair. “Jhanic’s got work for you,” she said in a Foregate accent.

“Oh really now?” Alric said, unenthusiastically.

"Don’t worry, Mayene, you don’t have to go outside. There’s a new Soldier, some kid named Jaren,” she paused, eyes drifting to the side as she queried her memory, “I think his family name was Marle, out of Andor.”

“Bloody Northerner’s probably standing around in the sleet then,” Alric grumbled, loath to leave the comfort of his armchair. He stood packing away his books, “Fine then, lead the way.”


The pair found the young man waiting in a common room. When they entered, the youth jumped to his feet and stood at “attention.” Well, the overly stiff exaggerated pose most civilians assumed to imitate the posture. “Sit sit,” Alric said with a offhanded wave. He was a military man himself, but the Tower didn’t ask it’s initiates to salute and stand at attention. That would be one of Solder Jaren’s first lessons then.

This was the civilian world so Alric extended a hand to the young man to shake, “Jaren Marle, welcome to the Grey Tower. I’ve heard the name, Marle, before, back in Mayene. I think my grandfather and his employees used to work with a merchant by the name. You’d have been a boy back then. Maybe it was a father? Uncle? Either way if you have any questions, need help getting situated, want to swap theories about how bird’s wings work don’t be afraid to speak up. That’s what we’re here for.”

At a polite throat clearing from behind him, Alric added, “Where’re my manners, this is Accepted Elise. An Accepted is basically the female equivalent of a Dedicated. We’ll do what we can to get you settled in.”

Jaren hesitated for fraction of a second when the Dedicated told him to sit; he had expected a more strict approach from someone of a higher rank, but he certainly had no desire to argue. He was no military man despite his current rank of ‘Soldier’ and he didn’t think he would ever really become one. Of course, he had yet to see what training around here was like. Maybe he’d be surprised.

He gave a courteous half-bow when Alric introduced the woman — the Accepted Elise — and flashed his best disarming smile. “Thank you. A pleasure to meet you both.” It occurred to him a little belatedly that he probably didn’t want to look like he was trying to flirt with her and the smile froze for a second, but he brushed the doubt aside and directed the smile at Alric instead.

“That’s quite possible,” Jaren continued, in response to the comment about his father. “My father does have business associates in Mayene, among other places. Though it would be mainly my brother in charge of the business nowadays.” Of course, with their father pulling the strings behind the scenes. He doubted the old man would stop trying to control everything as long as there was life in him. “And if it is quality wines you desire, I’m sure I could still help you as well,” he added, “though on second though that may depend on how publicly I’ve been disowned since my failure to return home... My father’s associates may not want to do business with me if they know.”

Realising that he was rambling — and apparently trying to cut a deal with his superior, of all things! — he cut off with a slightly awkward laugh. “…Pardon. Some habits die hard. Anyway. Yes. Questions. I do have a few, if you don’t mind. Will you be also teaching me to channel or will I be assigned another teacher for that? When can I start lessons? How would one best prepare for said lessons? And, ah. I suppose that ‘is there anything else I should know?’ is probably too broad a question?” He might not be afraid to speak up, exactly, but sometimes he thought he'd look overall more intelligent if he knew when to shut up...

Elise met the new Soldier’s easy grin with a shy smile of her own. Alric managed not to snort, instead casting his gaze out the window for a moment. He didn’t blame the young man. Elise was pretty enough. He knew he might have tried flirting with the Accepted himself if his own situation had been different. That said, he probably should let the new kid know not to flirt with Accepted and that fraternization was rather frowned upon. Alric knew he’d feel like a hypocrite issuing that warning, though. Maybe he’d just pull the kid aside later and give him a quick man to man about the rules, and the risks and rewards of breaking them.


After pulling up chairs of their own, Alric and Elise set about the task of orientation for the new Soldier. Keeping his voice friendly and unassuming, Alric said, “That’s ok, I’m more of a beer man myself. A word of advice, when you’re talking to an Aes Sedai or Asha’man, or a Gaidin for that matter, try not to ramble too much. Their time is valuable and they’ll probably set you extra chores. Just get to the point, and try not to speak unless given permission.” Truthfully, Alric had little love for officers who couldn’t spare a moment for the people in their command. That said, he also didn’t believe in fomenting discord in the ranks so he kept his mouth shut. He wouldn’t complain about the Full Ranks to a new Soldier.


Sitting in a chair to the left, Elise leaned in to talk, “You’ll be in large classes for most of your lessons. Sometimes when they think you need extra help, or you show special promise in an area, you’ll do a one on one class.” She smiled again, brushing back a dark ringlet, “Sadly I can’t help you with Saidin. Birds teaching fish to fly and all. A Dedicated like Alric or a full Asha’man will teach to Channel.”


Growing up in coastal Mayen, Alric had seen plenty of swimming birds and flying fish. He’d eaten a fair number too. Whoever came up with that expression must have lived a sad landlocked life. That said, Elise was right, she could not teach the new Soldier a thing about Saidin. “We don’t just teach you to Channel at the Tower. The idea’s to make well rounded individuals. I don’t think even the Greens or Yellows have use for somebody who only knows how to Channel. You will learn history, math, philosophy, natural sciences, mythology, weapons and tactics pretty much anything you can think of. You can take specialized classes about everything from Daes dae’mar to the creatures of the Blight.” Sometimes the amount of readily available knowledge available at the Tower astounded him. Even now, he found himself almost bouncing like an eager school boy.


Realizing they had left several questions unanswered, Alric sat back and thought for a moment, “How to prepare for lessons? Well how would you prepare for any lesson? Read the text, visit the library for related texts. Talk to the instructor. Maybe join a study group. It’s not quite as easy for Channeling classes. Lower ranks aren’t allowed to Channel without supervision from at least a mid rank.” That could be stretched to mean that they could channel to their heart's content as long as he was in the room with them, but that was an offer he’d only make to somebody he already trusted well enough to channel on their own.


“You asked if there’s anything else you should know. Well yes. Don’t be afraid to actually talk to us. Mostly the Dedicated because you Soldiers are our responsibility, but I mean talk to an Accepted or a Ji’Val if you need ot. If something is wrong, if something’s right, talk. I’ll make time to hear you out. I don’t quite have an open door policy, but I do have a ‘Don’t ba afraid to knock’ policy. I know some of my fellows might have a bit of an ego going, but in the end, we’re here for you.” It was a philosophy he’d been taught as an officer and that served him well at the Tower. As an leader you are always training the next generation to fill your shoes and surpass you. You also must make sure you never abuse your subordinate’s trust.

Jaren nodded solemnly at the warning not to ramble away at his superiors in the Tower; that was plain common sense, really. It was just that his background and training in the field of business had taught him to never freeze and go silent in an unexpected or unfamiliar situation, and nothing about the Grey Tower was exactly familiar to him yet.

He smiled back at Elis as she spoke about channelling and not being able to teach him due to the differences between saidin and saidar. “Well, that’s a pity,” he said, then remembered that Alric was there, too, and added, “No offence, Dedicated.” The Accepted really was quite pretty, though. He wondered how long she had been studying channelling already; she didn’t look like she could have been studying for many years unless she’d started very early. He couldn’t help feeling that he was getting to this whole channelling thing a bit late, being closer to thirty than twenty and only just starting out.

He listened to Alric’s explanation about studying in the Grey Tower with great interest, especially the part about classes that had nothing to do with channelling. Jaren thought he was a fairly ‘well-rounded individual’ already, but the list of subjects was far wider than his education had covered — things like mythology and philosophy were subjects you could actually study here? He’d never even thought of that! He had expected that channelling would be the only interesting thing to learn here, but suddenly really wanted to see the library.

At the end of Alric’s speech, Jaren nodded. “Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.” He chuckled a little. “To be honest, I prefer knocking, anyway.” An open door policy was all well and good for those extroverted enough to make use of it, but it was a bit like an invitation to ‘drop by at any time’; in Jaren’s case, that usually ended up not happening at all. At least unless he knew the other person well enough.

“You mentioned weapons training, Dedicated,” he said then after a moment’s thought. “Do all students also learn to use a weapon?” He looked at Elis, eyebrows raised. “The women, too? Not that I don’t think you could, mind. Just, I’ve never seen an Aes Sedai carry a sword. At least I don’t think so.” He didn’t have anything against the idea, in fact he thought he’d like to be more proficient with the sword — as it was he knew enough not to stab himself in the toe but not much more — but how on earth was he going to have time for all of that?

“Don’t let the Mistress of Arms hear you talk like that,” Alric said with a wry twist to his lips. “I understand where you’re coming from but we’re not the White Tower, we take a more egalitarian approach to these kinds of things. You don’t have to learn a weapon, well unless you’re a Drin. That goes without saying though.”

Alric’s eyebrows shot up as Elise leaned in, placing her hand on the new kid’s knee. “I can teach you how to shoot a bow.”

Light you two, Alric thought suppressing a groan. Foregaters were much less reserved than their countrymen on the other side of the wall, but this was ridiculous. Clearing his throat, Alric said, “Maybe you can show Soldier Jaren to his quarters later, but now we need to make sure we do our jobs as mid ranks.” Looking back at Jaren, he continued, “So, are you interested in learning to fight with a weapon? You won’t have as much time to train as a Drin, but the Warder Yards are open to anybody who wants to learn. Oh yeah, if you want somebody to spar with, I’m your man.”

Jaren looked at Alric, frankly a little alarmed, when the Accepted Elise put her hand on his knee. He wasn’t sure what passed for harmless flirting around here — or among the Cairhienin, which he suspected the woman had to be — but surely this was going places where students probably shouldn’t be going, grown up though they might be. He briefly entertained the thought that the Dedicated and the Accepted had cooked this up between them, playing a joke at his expense, but the look on Alric’s face suggested otherwise.

At this point, however, the safest approach might be to play oblivious. Jaren grinned, an expression he might have aimed at his little sister when she did something amusing, and patted Elise’s hand casually. “I may take you up on that offer, Accepted; the shooting lessons, I mean, once I’ve had a chance to look at my options. And figured out how much time I’ll have for optional activities. I imagine that won’t be a lot.”

Turning to Alric again he continued, “Actually I would be interested in learning the sword, yes. I had some rudimentary instruction while growing up, but I’m afraid my skills are only such that I’m not directly a danger to myself or those around me while holding a sword. I wouldn’t be much of a sparring partner as it is.”

Alric gave a small shrug. The offer to spar had been mostly a courtesy. “Don’t feel too bad, half the kids here don’t know which side of a sword to hold. You can learn though that’s what matters. There are some people who come to the Tower who never bother to learn.”

Standing, Alric extended a hand to shake, “We can escort you to your rooms and settle any other issues you might have.”


With Elise in the lead, they made their way through the Tower halls. Servants rushed every which way on various tasks as day moved into evening. The Accepted chatted about this and that, filling Jaren in on the history of the Tower or who different Channelers and Gaidin were. Alric let himself become lost in thought as they walked the familiar halls. So much so that he almost collided with Elise as she staggered back.

“Oy watch where you’re going!” she yelled over her shoulder.

At first Alric thought she was berating him. Opening his mouth, a reply half formed on his lips he looked over his shoulder to see the back of a servant as he rushed off without a word of apology.

“Don’t worry, he probably has some Aes Sedai hounding him,” Alric said, nodding for them to keep going.

They were descending a flight of steps when Elise staggered. Alric reflexively grabbed for her, but the white dress slipped through his fingers. He could only watch impotently as she tumbled down the stairs. Taking the stairs three at a time, he rushed to her side.

“Elise,” he called, as he slid to a stop next to her. Deftly he checked her over for injuries. Blood was everywhere, Light there was a lot of blood. She wasn’t moving. Her face was covered in it, but she didn’t appear to have any gashes. It seemed to have leaked from her nose and mouth, but her mouth and nose both appeared uninjured. No missing teeth or cuts to her lips. What had caused all the blood?

He felt at her neck, then her wrists. No pulse. “Mother’s milk! Soldier, go find a Full rank, now,” he said, falling into his command voice. Not checking to see if the Soldier obeyed, he rolled the Accepted onto her back. What kind of lethal injury had she taken? Her head looked ok. She didn’t seem to have broken her neck either. He didn’t think a spine injury would have out right killed her. Though he knew a fair amount about anatomy and about injuries, he wasn’t a healer. This was outside his wheelhouse. Something did catch his attention. What was that sticking out of her leg? Something metal. Carefully, he reached down to touch it. His finger darted back as he realized something. It wasn’t a hypothesis worth testing with his life so he reached in his pocket for a handkerchief. Protecting his bare skin, he pulled a bloody needle free.

Without an expert’s examination, he couldn’t be sure, but his gut was telling him, this was no accident.

Jaren was walking half a step behind Elise when it happened; one moment she was fine and the next, tumbling down the stairs in a flurry of white fabric. With a muffled oath, Jaren dashed after her, landing next to her seconds behind the faster Alric. He watched helplessly as the Dedicated examined the woman’s injuries — blood, there was so much blood, and Jaren wasn’t squeamish at the sight of blood but the thought of all that blood flowing out of a person he’d just been talking to — no, he didn’t want to think about it.

“Is she—?” he started, only to be cut off.

“Mother’s milk! Soldier, go find a Full rank, now!”

The edge of command in the Dedicated’s voice was unnecessary to speed him on, but a distant part of Jaren’s mind appreciated the illusion that Alric was in charge and had everything under control. Jaren couldn’t mess this up if all he had to do was find an Asha’man or an Aes Sedai. Holding on to that desperate thought, he dashed down the hallway.


The first black-coat he approached — or nearly crashed into — turned out to be a Dedicated. Muttering apologies, Jaren rushed past the man, nearly tripping over his own feet once or twice. Finally, he caught a glimpse of a green dress vanishing around a corner — hopefully an Aes Sedai and not a visitor — and picked up his pace.

“Excuse me! Ma’am! Aes Sedai!”

He rounded the corner — and skidded to a halt as he found the wearer of the dress standing there, ageless features staring back at him with open disapproval. “What is it, child?”

Any other time, Jaren would have had something, a great many things against being called a child. Right now, however… “There’s been an accident,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath. “An Accepted fell down the stairs.” Thankfully, the Aes Sedai didn’t seem to need more prompting to follow, though she did bid him tell her more as they started back towards the scene of the accident. “A Dedicated is with her, Aes Sedai, but it looked bad.”

As they approached the place where he’d left Alric and Elise, Jaren felt increasingly anxious. He tried not to think about how much time had elapsed. Would going some other way have been faster, would he have found somebody sooner? No; it was no use thinking like that, and besides, an Aes Sedai was on the scene now and, oh Light, please let Elise be alright…

“Here, Aes Sedai,” he said, redundantly as the Aes Sedai was already kneeling down beside Elise, addressing Alric as she did so.

“Dedicated. Tell me what happened.”

Jaren hung back, knowing there was nothing he could do to help at this point, and trying to demand an update on Elise’s status might only distract those who knew what they were doing. There was a crowd gathering around the scene, mostly young men and women in black and white uniforms, respectively. Jaren’s temper flared; morbid curiosity drew people to the sites of accidents and disasters, but surely this was not the occasion to gawk! He looked around to see if anyone else was going to disperse the crowd, but the only full rank in sight was still fully focused on Elise. With a mental shrug, Jaren turned to some of the Soldiers standing nearby.

“As you can see, the Aes Sedai has the situation under control,” he said. “You can go about your business.” Technically he had no authority over them — they were his peers at best, and the Dedicated and Accepted in the crowd outranked him, but regardless some seemed to think following his suggestion as prudent and scurried off, thinning the crowd a little. Nodding with grim satisfaction, Jaren turned back to the scene of the accident.

Please, Light. Please let her be alright.

Jaren seemed the type to step in and take charge regardless of official rank. Alric respected that, that very trait had taken him far in life. He didn't have time to be impressed. The needle in his hand held his attention. Somebody had stuck Elise with a needle coated in something vicious.

“Serine Sedai, I don't think she made it,” he said, crouching next to the Aes Sedai and showing her the needle.”

“I know, I delved her,” the woman said with a sad sigh. Eyes going wide, she snapped, “Where did that come from?”

“It was stabbed into her leg, Aes Sedai. Some servant bumped her a few minutes ago.”

“Show me where it happened,” she said standing and straightening her skirts.

Gesturing for Jarren to follow, he lead the way back up the steps. “I didn't get a good look at him, but he's probably long gone.”

They stopped in the hall where the bump happened. Bloody hell, the guy could be anywhere. It was all Alric could do to not draw his sword as they they searched through the halls. Damn this block. He felt so helpless. He assumed Cat Crossing the Courtyard, and readied himself.