Zarayne pressed the door shut behind her, sealing off the world of the Grey Tower from her spacious room in the Novices' Quarters. The room was dark, with the curtains still drawn. That small square of glass was the only natural light for the whole room, but it also allowed others to look in, and Zarayne more than appreciated her privacy.
The bed on the right was perfectly made up, ready for a roommate should the Mistress of Novices ever assign her one. Zee's own bed also seemed unslept in, except that the top sheet and pillow were on the floor. Like most Aiel, Zarayne eschewed the softness of a bed for the firm ground beneath her feet. She did use the small desk set aside for writing, but only for holding her books and notes. The floor also made for a good writing surface.
Zarayne lit the stand lamp on her desk with a small piece of burning charcoal, saying it was forbidden for apprentices to channel. The temptation to reach out to the Source was always there though. She struggled to see how a Wise One could live a life without channelling, but then Zarayne had only ever known one Wise One, and she was a thousand miles distant.
She removed her slippers by the side of the door, grateful for the cool touch of stone beneath her heels. Next she removed her dress, marked at the knees from scrubbing floors in the morning, and spotted with fine black spots from an earlier class. An Asha'man's apprentice gesticulated too wildly had sent an inkwell flying halfway across the room. Ruined dress was thrown into a corner, followed by her shift. It was unmarked, but still dirty from a day's worth of labour. In two long strides, Zarayne was in the middle of the room, wrapping the bedsheet around herself for warmth and modesty. It wasn't even a poor substitute for the cadin'sor, but it ranked higher than the white wetlander dresses.
Sitting where she stood on the large impression of the sinuous white and black disc, Zee pulled a small set of drawings from underneath her bed. They were floor plans of the Grey Tower, all hand drawn and covered with various notes. Somewhere amongst the hallways and corridors was her mother's study. No-one had asked her to find it, not even her mum, but it gave the Aielwoman a purpose above and beyond the need to understand and control her powers, and potentially to also become an Aes Sedai.
There was an unexpected knock at the door. Zarayne rose quickly, looking into the corner with her dirty laundry. How long did she have to get back into the damned dress before the person got impatient? Half a minute? She dropped the sheet, bolted for the corner, and had her shift pulled on before the latch clicked open.
The first thing Zarayne checked was the hem of the newcomer's white dress before she took in any other detail. She tugged the shift down around her thighs before giving the novice a hard glare. "I did not invite you in. Are you not meant to be invited?" An Aiel would not waltz in unbidden, and she thought the same was true for wetlanders. It was only that invasion of privacy, and not her state of undress, that brought crimson to her cheeks.
Fortunately the unnamed novice closed the door behind her, otherwise Zarayne would have gripped her by the wrist and thrown her out into the corridor. Instead the Aiel just rounded on the woman, using her additional height to glare down at the dark-haired youth. "Who are you? Do you have a message?" The Tower was all about sending messages, but never in person. That was one of the odder chores she had to attend to. "And can it wait?"
The bed on the right was perfectly made up, ready for a roommate should the Mistress of Novices ever assign her one. Zee's own bed also seemed unslept in, except that the top sheet and pillow were on the floor. Like most Aiel, Zarayne eschewed the softness of a bed for the firm ground beneath her feet. She did use the small desk set aside for writing, but only for holding her books and notes. The floor also made for a good writing surface.
Zarayne lit the stand lamp on her desk with a small piece of burning charcoal, saying it was forbidden for apprentices to channel. The temptation to reach out to the Source was always there though. She struggled to see how a Wise One could live a life without channelling, but then Zarayne had only ever known one Wise One, and she was a thousand miles distant.
She removed her slippers by the side of the door, grateful for the cool touch of stone beneath her heels. Next she removed her dress, marked at the knees from scrubbing floors in the morning, and spotted with fine black spots from an earlier class. An Asha'man's apprentice gesticulated too wildly had sent an inkwell flying halfway across the room. Ruined dress was thrown into a corner, followed by her shift. It was unmarked, but still dirty from a day's worth of labour. In two long strides, Zarayne was in the middle of the room, wrapping the bedsheet around herself for warmth and modesty. It wasn't even a poor substitute for the cadin'sor, but it ranked higher than the white wetlander dresses.
Sitting where she stood on the large impression of the sinuous white and black disc, Zee pulled a small set of drawings from underneath her bed. They were floor plans of the Grey Tower, all hand drawn and covered with various notes. Somewhere amongst the hallways and corridors was her mother's study. No-one had asked her to find it, not even her mum, but it gave the Aielwoman a purpose above and beyond the need to understand and control her powers, and potentially to also become an Aes Sedai.
There was an unexpected knock at the door. Zarayne rose quickly, looking into the corner with her dirty laundry. How long did she have to get back into the damned dress before the person got impatient? Half a minute? She dropped the sheet, bolted for the corner, and had her shift pulled on before the latch clicked open.
The first thing Zarayne checked was the hem of the newcomer's white dress before she took in any other detail. She tugged the shift down around her thighs before giving the novice a hard glare. "I did not invite you in. Are you not meant to be invited?" An Aiel would not waltz in unbidden, and she thought the same was true for wetlanders. It was only that invasion of privacy, and not her state of undress, that brought crimson to her cheeks.
Fortunately the unnamed novice closed the door behind her, otherwise Zarayne would have gripped her by the wrist and thrown her out into the corridor. Instead the Aiel just rounded on the woman, using her additional height to glare down at the dark-haired youth. "Who are you? Do you have a message?" The Tower was all about sending messages, but never in person. That was one of the odder chores she had to attend to. "And can it wait?"
