The Grey Tower

"But... do I know about fearing something you don't understand." Terric tensed slightly as she rested her head on his shoulder. "My mother was a novice at the White Tower, a channeler. She left to be with my father, who fears Aes Sedai. She never told him." Wait. "And when I showed the Talent, he was livid. He hated us. He wanted both my mother and I dead, and probably wanted my brothers and sister dead too just so that there's no possibility of them being channelers." She sighed. We just met why is she telling me this? "I thought... I thought he might actually hurt us. But he left, without even looking back," she finished in a small voice.

Where had this come from? His thoughts raced in a panic and he was at a loss for words. He had never been good at these sorts of things. People liked to confide in him. It helped him as a Red Shield, but sometimes it was just unnerving. Ok, Terric, don’t be a fool. Say something comforting. That’s what she wants right? Maybe she just wanted somebody to listen to her story. No judgment just somebody who would listen. She seemed incredibly tiny in his arms.

He squeezed her in an attempt to be comforting. Wetlanders like hugs right? Those displays were extremely personal for Aiel but Terric would do his best to adjust to his surroundings. It was like putting green in your cadin’sor when you are in the Wetlands.

“What happened next?” He used the soothing voice he used with the families of murder victims. Eyes frantically searching for an escape route, he noticed, the cafeteria was just one more floor down.

“I can’t really imagine you hurting somebody,” he said softly. “No, that wasn’t a comment on your size.” He carried her down the final set of steps and gently put her down.

Terric was sure she’d changed the subject for his benefit. He gave her a genuine smile and decided to go with it, “So Wetlander’s aren’t totally ignorant. Yes water is one of the three most important things to an Aiel. We’ve brushed on the first, Ji’e’toh. Then there’s water. We fight wars over water, we make pledges by water. Water is symbolic and it’s necessary, but you Wetlanders like to splash around in it. How do we survive? We conserve. We lay claim to even the smallest spring we find, sometimes we even build permanent settlements near water. Also plants. There are some plants whose insides can be drunk like water. Back home, it is completely natural and justified, to fight another Clan if their herders encroach upon a water supply. We don’t just need water for our people but our flocks as well. I’d have to take you to the Three-fold Land for you to truly understand.”

Even with this bounty of water around him, he missed his home. The people here were soft. It wasn’t their fault. It was the land. The land provided for them. In the Three-fold Land, the Aiel had to fight for every breath.

He led the way through the cafeteria doors. “Do you think they’ll let us have extra sweet buns?”

Terric wasn’t sure if he’d take her advice. That would technically be a lie. Maybe if he said it in a certain way. It was there fault if they believed him, but no. He didn’t want to incurtoh over sweet buns.

"I also hear you don't use horses?" the little Novice asked. She was incredibly curious about his home.
“You heard correctly. We don’t.” He suspected she wanted more but it was simple, an Aiel’s legs worked just fine.

As the line edged along, he scanned faces. Terric hadn’t made any friends among the Drin’far’ji yet, or among anybody at the tower. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for but it was habit. Some habits kept you alive. Avyra seemed to be hiding in his shadow. He tried to remember, was she not allowed in here by rule or by custom? Sometimes both could be equally important. He hoped the cafeteria staff would give her food.

“You’ve asked a lot about my home, but I don’t know much about yours.” He had heard stories about the Cairhienin from some of the older Algai’d’siswai who crossed the wall for the Treekiller’s King. He wondered how many were true. From what he’d seen when he passed through the land and now talking to Avyra, they were indeed short. He’d been sure that was just a nasty rumor.

"Well, I'm not sure what would be interesting," she obviously had rarely had to think about this. "Well, for starters, we are very short. But I'm incredibly short for one. Usually we're about four or five inches taller." She paused. "My people are pretty... reserved. I fall on the more wilder side of the spectrum." She paused again, thinking. "However, we are affectionate around friends and family. Hugs, that sort of stuff. But my people can be ruthless. I am glad I did not grow up in a noble background, for the nobility is cruel and unforgiving."

He nodded as he received his tray. He turned to the cook, “May I have an extra sweet bun?” He gave a decent facsimile of his old mentor’s rakish grin.

The women just raised an eyebrow, “One dessert per Drin, you know the rules.”

Terric shrugged and turned back to Avyra, “If you weren’t a Wetlander noble, what did you do before?” His eyes scanned the cafeteria for a place to sit. One of the long tables towards the back had open bench space. He thought it could fit the two of them. He detested Wetlander benches but this wasn’t his land. He would have to do things their way. To a point. He’d still rather not sleep in a bed.

Their seats placed their back to the wall, allowing them to watch the entrances. Terric had noticed that many Warders were quite uncomfortable when they could had to sit facing away from the door. Warders, he was coming to see, had more sense than any other Wetlander he’d met.

He listened to her story. "I didn't really have a set job; my family were jewelers. Well, are. We were in good shape financially; we weren't poor but we weren't rolling in money. I never really did any of the jeweling aspects. I worked, mainly, with running the shop and doing inventory, money, that sort of stuff. It wasn't glamorous, that was for sure. But it wasn't bad either."

“There is much honor in the work of a craftsman,” he said before attacking his food. The high calorie food was not particularly tasty but it was filling.

His eating companion had more questions. “What did you used to do? And how does an Aiel end up at the Grey Tower?"

He swallowed a mouth full of food before answering, “Both of your questions have the same answer. I am Aethan Dor.” He went back to eating. He glanced down and over noticing that she wasn’t eating much. Really Terric? Wondering why she isn’t eating. You’re starting to sound like your Greatmother.