The Grey Tower

Natlya She couldn't take it anymore!

It had been months since Nat had last seen or spoken with Morgan. Rumors had drifted into the Yards about his altercation with an Asha'man, but she had heard more recently that he had been spotted free once more. Yet he hadn't come by to see her, and her own attempts--feeble as they could be in her trainee situation, and not a favored one at that--fell flat.

Something was wrong. For some reason, he was avoiding her...but she couldn't imagine why.

Her thief's mind got to work. When being straightforward didn't work, try lying and conning. It was, after all, what she was best at in this life and it was always refreshing to get back to it. For this one, however, she needed a compatriot. In her past life, that has always been Morgan of course, but now she needed someone new.

It would only be a little con, after all.

The truth was, however, that Nat didn't have many friends. She did have a roommate, however, susceptible to bribery...

...and that was how Drin'far'ji Lili found herself hunting down a Soldier during one of the few free periods that they all shared. Natlya had given her as much information as she was able about where and how to find him, under the idea that when it was someone else, that same information would be of more use than it had been for her.

Life was not exactly easy for Morgan Cade, especially after his release from that infernal cell.

He avoided certain areas of the Warder Yards like the plague and was all but ostracized by his fellow Soldiers.

The young man didn't care so much about the latter. He had been on his own for longer than he could recount, with only one other person to share the road and his heart.

And then there was the peculiar feeling of being watched at all times. In any other time he would have dismissed it as a bit of paranoia, but given the stories surrounding his current leash holder, it wasn't as far-fetched as he could believe.

Morgan's mist-colored eyes flashed as he made his way down the halls of the Indigo Ajah, away from his current work assignment. When he wasn't in lecture or at meals, his time was spent in the First Seeker's office.

The man was unyielding, not giving an inch for the slightest mistake he made, and always ensuring he wasn't pulling the wool over his eyes. If the man had been a thief in a past life, he surely didn't appear to be so now.

The man had more the soul of a soldier and nobleman than he did of a man who would steal for a living.

Morgan made his way from the hallways, through the Tower grounds and toward the Soldier Hall when he found himself in the Gardens.

It was a slight detour (okay, a major one), but he wanted some seclusion before he headed back to an odious Soldier's room, devoid of anything except a few personal belongings.

He found a quiet bench and closed his eyes briefly. Morgan wasn't one to normally reflect on things — life happened, people died and the world moved on. But the last five months had changed that.

He hadn't eaten in days when the door opened and the tall Green came in, a sneer on his face. He held a satchel in one hand, filled with the rusty implements that he would use on the prisoner.

Morgan sat up and attempted to stand. He wanted to strangle the man, to destroy him for all the torment caused. But an invisible hand shoved the young thief down and restrained him.

As he unrolled the bundle of tools, the Asha'man hummed before looking at him. “Today, we'll be talking about what matters to you the most. That way you'll know what it feels like when the one light in your life is snuffed out …”

There was a shift in the air, the sound of footsteps nearing. Morgan's body tensed slightly in the afternoon sunlight, his hand moving toward a concealed knife.

He saw a young Drin'far'ji approach and he eyed her curiously. And cautiously. “May I help you?”

Based on Natlya's description, this was the young man that Lili had been bade to find. As the young woman had been a Drin long enough to internalize her lessons, she recognized the tension that came to his posture at her approach and the minute movement toward his weapon, so she did not approach any closer than was necessary to speak without shouting.

"Are you Soldier Morgan?" she asked. At his acknowledgement, she said, "I come behalf of a friend," and pulled a piece of folded parchment from her uniform pocket and held it out to him. Like she would with a deer in the forest, she did not move any closer to him and let him approach her to take it. "She bid me wait until you had answer."

The parchment, when opened, revealed a letter in a mostly legible, literate hand:

M--

I don't know what's going on. I have tried to find you, but I can't. What's happened? Why are you avoiding me? Please let me know what it is going on, my heart.

--N

Morgan frowned slightly as the Drin'far'ji inched closer. She seemed to sense he would likely attack if she made a move he didn't like.

He couldn't blame her. And if the trainee in front of him knew what had occurred over the last five months and the life he had lived before, perhaps she wouldn't blame him either.

The thief had killed for less.

Morgan only inclined his head in silent acknowledgement when the Drin'far'ji called him by name. He snatched the piece of parchment from her hand and rose from the bench, his mist-colored eyes watching her carefully before unfolding the parchment.

A small smile slipped across his lips before it vanished.

His orders were clear: steer away from one particular Warder trainee and do not attempt to initiate contact with her.

However, there was nothing in those orders that prevented him from responding, if at least to inform her to forget about that.

But then he could never forget about her impish smile. Or the nights they shared together after a big heist or con. Yet, this Tower had eyes and ears that could make their way back to several different people.

He reached into the satchel he wore at his side and retrieved a piece of paper and a stick with a charred end. Not so fine as quill and ink, but it would suffice.

N

The darkness came and a rat tore flesh from bones. Freedom was offered at a price after a purple cat killed the rat. That price, my love, is no contact, and in exchange, your freedom and safety is ensured.

M

He folded parchment and then pushed past the drin'far'ji. “Thank you for the message, Drin'far'ji, but I fear I must be going. Good day.” However, he didn't go without slipping the response into the woman's hand.

"Good day to you, Soldier," she replied with respect, not making any gesture towards the note but she kept it securely in hand. After he had departed, she turned and returned to her room where Natlya waited.

* * *

The fire-haired Drin sat on her bed with the note in her hands, chewing furiously on her lip. It was so like Morgan, she thought, to protect her. He had been doing it since the moment they came together, even before their hearts had connected. But it still pissed her off, because he was making choices for her without even talking to her!

Jumping up, she hurried to the desk and began her next note. Although it couldn't be delivered for three days, which was when her roommate and temporary partner-in-crime was able to get away and find Morgan again.

M--

What use are my freedom and safety if I don't have you? I might as well just flee the Tower all together, and then maybe we could find a way to be as we were. I appreciate your care of me, but my life is vacant.

--N

Three days passed since the last time Morgan delivered the note into the Drin'far'ji's care to take to Natlya. The young Soldier had since settled into a repeat pattern of chores, classes and more chores.

What little time he had he used to spy on the mischievous young woman from afar. Light, but she had been pulling one of their favorite — albeit simple — cons on other trainees.

Not a nice thing, but one that earned him a grin. It tore at his soul not to be near her, let alone touch or kiss her.

No, this was better.

He was returning to his room one night to an empty room (he yet lacked a roommate since apparently a few Soldiers considered him unlucky given the death of a Green and the “unfortunate accident” of his friend by his warden), when the same Drin'far'ji that delivered the first note pulled him into an empty side room.

Morgan nearly reached for the concealed knife on his body and jab it through his assailant when his mist-colored eyes landed on the person's face.

The note was thrust into his hand just as he uttered, “Light, girl, but are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He unfolded the letter then and absorbed its contents like a last meal.

A small smile touched his lips before turning into a frown. Once more he found himself reaching for parchment and charcoal and thinking quickly about what to write his beloved.

N —

Your safety is more important than anything to me. What little joy there is in this world is knowing you go on, switching one thing for another among your fellows. Were we to flee in the wind, our time would be short-lived. Fill your life with something new and remember that I will always love you.

– M

Morgan quickly folded the piece of paper and pressed it into the Warder in training's hand before moving away without a muttered word.

This time, a week and a half passed before Lili came to find Morgan.
* * * Finally freed of the punishment of the rocks, Natlya had spare time again. She didn't know what she wanted to do with it, however. She felt different, and didn't know how to handle it. It was like one moment had rearranged the pieces in her head, and she wasn't really sure what was left or what to do about it.

The crumpled paper was still under her bed. She fetched it and spread it out on the small desk before her, flattening it as best she could, and then pulling a fresh sheet that she began to write on...
* * * Lili didn't say much as she handed him the message, although she looked somewhat...uncertain, or perhaps uncomfortable. She took a step back, waiting either for a return message or to be dismissed. She somewhat knew the contents of this message, and so she wasn't entirely sure what would come of this.

M--

As you wish, then. I suppose you know best.

I love you always,
--N

Morgan frowned as he concentrated on the small flicker of flame that the Indigo held in front of him. He reached for the One Power, like a hundred times before … and found only emptiness.

He growled and reached for it again. But nothing.

“Try again,” the gold-green eyed Indigo said again. “You must overcome this block to be effective.”

He eyed his keeper and anger slowly seeped into his mind. “Easy for you to say ...”

Saidin rolled through him like a storm and he barely managed to seize control of it. Color, sound and sight increased and the world became more potent.

A second later, a flicker of flame appeared in his outstretched hand.

“Aye, there was a time when I was like you,” the Indigo said. “So I know the need to overcome such a block.”

Morgan sighed as he was told to release saidin, and the world suddenly returned to normal.

“This lesson is over for the day, Soldier Morgan,” the man said. “Return to your quarters until your next chores begin. We will continue this time tomorrow.”

Morgan nearly growled again but instead merely inclined his head, grabbed his satchel and left the man's study.

It had been like this for nearly two weeks. And it had been increasingly frustrating since he cut off all communication with Natlya.

Part of his mind considered leaving, just running and taking his chances. He was ten times the thief that this Indigo claimed to be, and could slip from this Tower's net without much effort. She would be safe and the target of whomever might be after him would be on his back.

And news of Natlya apparently became harder to find out about. It appeared as if the Asha'man was keeping him away from the Yards and was filtering information. Most Soldiers and Novices kept a wide berth of him.

He missed her. And felt the fool that he didn't buck the rules. Wasn't that what Nat and he had done for so many years? They had overcome more stringent obstacles, after all.

Before he could answer his own thought, he was once more beset upon by his flaming shadow.

The Ji'dar wordlessly handed him the note and his eyes went over it, absorbing the words.

A multitude of emotions overcame him: relief, regret and every one in between.

Finally, she had taken the hint.

But one emotion surfaced above all else. Anger. Saidin seeped into it as he considered writing a farewell note. It was always the plan, should one of their lives be cut short or they be forced to part: a message of some sort.

Instead, the flicker of fire that the Indigo taught him came to mind. The charred remains of the parchment fell to the ground, upon which he stepped on them.

“Tell her that her message was received, but none will be returning yet,” Morgan murmured. Without a word he turned.

~ ~ ~

Not two hours later, he found himself mucking out the stables as part of his never-ending cycle of chores. This particular horse belonged to the First Seeker.

However, his ears overheard a very distinct conversation. An older man with a not-so-refined accent described an incident with a young woman in a back alley in Hama Valon more than a week past.

As Morgan continued to muck horse manure into a nearby wagon, he listened in detail about the man's attempted “liaison” and the damage inflicted on him prior to the escape. Of course, he smiled at the notion of the man being given his just dues … but then the man made the mistake of describing the young woman who would have been his victim.

His knuckles whitened around the shovel handle.

Morgan was meticulous in his next move. He tracked the man's movements, apparently a day laborer who was working in exchange for a few coins and a meal, and in one rare moment found him alone in a dark corner while he was lifting onions.

Years of being a sneaky orphan paid off for Morgan when he slipped up behind the man, onion in hand. In a series of swift moments, the Soldier turned the man about, shoved the onion in his mouth and slipped a knife between his ribs.

“You don't touch her, ever,” Morgan whispered.

The tears that came down the thug's life could have either been from the wound or from the onion, but in seconds he slumped to the floor.

His body was discovered the next morning while Morgan was busy washing dishes.

~ ~ ~

Morgan was the one to approach the drin'far'ji this time, pulling her aside during an errand inside the White Ajah Hall. He passed a piece of parchment and a silver coin into her palm and murmured.

“Sebrina Calin Gaidar insisted that I find you and impart upon you that a message be delivered,” Morgan said politely. “It is quite urgent.”

~ ~ ~

– N

There is this pleasant glade in the Gardens that I hear that the moon bathes at midnight, far from sight and sound of others. It is great for reflection.

All my love.

- M

She almost hadn't shown up.

When Lili had brought her the message, she had read it over and frowned. In truth, she really hadn't been expecting a reply. He had made his feelings clear. She didn't doubt his heart. In fact, it was his heart that was the issue. He wanted to protect her and felt that following the rules set before him would do just that.

Natlya had chosen, ultimately, to accept that and said as much. Still, she had expected that one she agreed things were over, then they would be over. She would not hear from him again, and she would move on with her training. Since...

Since, she no longer felt like she had anywhere else to go.

Staring again at a letter in her hands, it had been a hard debate. He wanted to see her. Why? Hadn't they already said everything to one another that needed to be said? The young Drin wasn't sure that anything more could be done or said that wouldn't just make it all far more painful than it already was, and it was already painful.

In the end, though, of course she went.

It had taken some effort to slip out of her room after dark, and avoid those who watched the halls. After her stunt a couple of weeks ago, she knew that she would be in deep trouble if she were to be caught...but she wasn't. She made it out of the barracks and onwards to the gardens in the cover of darkness.

Come the deepest part of the night, she was in the gardens and waiting for the one she hadn't seen in far too long.

Morgan had managed to slip past the roving patrol of Ji'alantin in the Soldier Hall with ease.

Soldiers were always typical: throw a stone in one direction, most simpletons went that direction. This one went the opposite, as customary of good watchdogs.

Wearing Soldier black came in handy this night, allowing the thief to slip past and into the dark without much regard.

Now he stood in the aforementioned rendezvous point, hands clasped behind his back. Word had quickly been hushed about the death of a hired hand in the kitchens, and the Mistress of Kitchens had been furious that her onions were now ruined.

Thankfully, nothing had traced back to Morgan. But there were whispers and rumors abound of the dead man in the learning ranks and he was sure they eventually might make their way back to Natlya.

So now here he stood, under a moonlit-soaked glade, hidden in the shadows and waiting for the woman whom had been his partner and love for years. And he was debating whether to run.

No. He was tired of running and hiding. He had been doing that since he was released from that infernal cell. He avoided the Green Ajah Hall with a passion because of the consequences that happened, the Indigo scorned him, and the Blue … well, they were cold.

He turned then, and saw the young woman enter the yard. Moonlight soaked around her, almost like a being sent from the Creator to grace this earth. He tilted his head, observing her form. She wasn't nearly so plump as he had last seen her, though there were still subtle curves in her body.

It looked like the Yards had done her good.

But then he had changed as well, locked in that cell for months. Despite being free of it for a few months now, he was still thinner than when he had went in. His face was harder and he was much more cautious.

“We shall discuss the thing you most love, so that you know what it is like to lose it …” The words of the Green who had tortured him in silence still echoed in his mind. That was probably the one thing he kept buried deep within.

And now she was here.

“Natlya,” Morgan said as he stepped from the shadows. And things happened automatically.

He pulled the drin'far'ji close and kissed her hard, with an almost immediate urgency lest they be torn apart.

When he did break it, his mist-colored eyes took her in. “I heard what happened and I … needed to see you.”