Entrance, Stage Left, pursued by furies

[Ashfalcon]

al'Syl Bederin rode into Hama Valon at a steady pace, grateful that he had reached the city ahead of his pursuers. He hadn't expected the city to be so large; when he'd left Arafel, rumors spoke of a Grey Tower in the Mountains of Mist, but nothing so established as this. It was better to blend in, now that the city itself was likely to give the Whitecloaks pause. Then again, this batch was arrogant with victory, and might well follow him in. They'd already slain an Aes Sedai, after all. Fortunately, the Grey Tower was not hard to spot. He turned his horse toward it, and soon enough found himself at the gates.

"Sanctuary," he called, as he approached.

"M'lord?" asked one of the two guards at the gate, eyeing the hadori that held his hair back. "How may we help?"

"I'm being hunted by Whitecloaks -- they're down to about a dozen, now, but they've murdered everyone I was traveling with. In addition, I am able to Channel but have no training whatsoever. and so came here for instruction."

The guard eyed him, but the other one nodded immediately. "Whitecloaks, eh? Bel, I need you to run -- not walk -- to the halls of the Green, and let them know as there may be Children of the Light in town."

A child, maybe twelve or fourteen, rose from a bench inside the shade of the gates, and dashed off into the tower.

"How close behind you were they?" asked the first guard, coming forward.

"I'm not sure. No more than a handful of hours. I've bloody near killed my horse trying to keep ahead of them."

"Blood and ashes," said the second guard. "Let's get you inside, and let the Greens deal with it. Lirr, are you back there?"

Another child emerged from behind the outer wall.

"Let the Master of Soldiers know we have another Potential. You can walk, though -- we'll need to get this poor beast settled, and the man should be safe enough for now."

The child nodded and walked off, not hurrying but not dallying either.

"I'm in your debt," Syl said, and offered a bow from his saddle.

"Not for us doing our duty, you aren't," the first guard disagreed. "Follow me, and I'll get you to the stable. Lord or not, you'll still have to get your mount settled in on your own."

Syl hadn't slept in two days, and Dai'daiden desperately needed food and rest. He swung down, and walked the horse behind the guard. "Probably better that way."

[Ashfalcon]

It took more than a few minutes to properly curry his horse, and fill the feeding trough with a mixture of oats and hay. Syl was staggering by the time he was done, though still too proud to use his blade a crutch or cane. He forced his body into The Cat Crosses The Courtyard. Technically, it was a fighting stance, but in this case it mainly served to keep him moving lightly. Dai'daiden could rest now, and once he was sure he was safe Syl could as well.

"Well met, young man," said a small, dark-featured man who moved like a cat -- or a panther, if such beasts actually existed. He wore a black jacket, with sword and dragon at his collar, and a dagger at his belt; Syl wondered what it would be like to cross blades with him, aside from... well... being a mistake.

Syl bowed. "Asha'man, I presume?"

The man smiled, amused. "Indeed. Malkieri?"

Syl nodded sadly. "One of the few. Fewer, now."

There was shouting outside the gate, then silence. The dark-eyed man ignored it. "Would you do me the courtesy of channeling for me?"

Syl sighed. "I don't know any weaves. I can do a few things with direct strands, but..."

"Just grasp the One Power and hold it."

Syl shrugged, shoved his exhaustion down, and reached. For a moment the Power fought him; then he mastered it, and filled himself.

"Good. As much as you can, but cautiously -- don't burn yourself out."

"I don't know where that line is," Syl growled, but pulled in more of the power until he felt his control starting to slip. He stopped there, riding the edge, and waited.

"Strong," observed the other man. "Good. Can you safely release?"

al'Syl Bederin nodded and turned loose of Saidin. "That's about as much as I can do," he admitted.

"Well," said the man, whom he would later come to learn was Jaryd Kosari, Master of Soldiers, "Your pursuers are well in hand, and you are... quite strong. Welcome to the Grey Tower. Follow me, and I'll get you signed in -- and you can have a hot bath, a good meal, and a solid night's sleep after. The stablehands will take care of your mount."

"Dai'daiden-- Syl began, but the Master of Soldiers cut him off.

"They know how to deal with a warhorse," he said simply. "How loyal and picky they are, and how to work around that."

[Ashfalcon]

Of course they do, Syl reminded himself. No few Warders would ride proper war-horses, and likely some of the Asha'man did as well. Idiot, he chided himself, but kept his face still.

It was harder than he expected. The tower itself was impossibly huge, and the grounds around it... Over there was a set of training yards, familiar in their aspect, but over there was another set, where one young woman seemed to be juggling fire, and a young man was alternately dissolving and reforming crude stone statues. There were indications of other things as well -- other buildings, something that might have been the outer wall of a hedge maze around the back...

The Master of Soldiers was as good as his word. In short order he had Syl placed in a room, with directions to the bath and instructions to make use of it. Dinner, it seemed, wouldn't be for several hours -- but he could easily ignore his hunger that long. Once he'd bathed and returned to his room, a young man roughly his own age came to fetch him again, this time taking him down to be sized and fitted with a black coat of his own.

Nobody objected when he belted his blades back over it; the sartor who'd adjusted the coat nodded approvingly, and the young man in the matching coat who'd brought him there looked impressed.

Syl was more impressed by the efficiency than anything else. He held his tongue as the young man led him back, pointing things out along the way and explaining what he could of the way things work here. al'Syl Bederin was now a Soldier of the Grey Tower; with work, he would become one of the Dedicated, and eventually an Asha'man. Yes, he would concentrate on the One Power, but he needn't give up the sword.

Uncle Alit would have been pleased.