The Grey Tower

Alric was surprised to find that Asha’man and Aes Sedai gossiped like anyone else. According to scuttlebutt, there was a young woman, a new Drin, who was rather hopeless. A charitable definition. It wasn’t her lack of combat skill, or even much of a warrior’s mindset that had caught the attention of the Browns, and by extension Katrie Sedai. The young woman, Afanen Vallen, was illiterate. Some went as far as calling her dim witted. Alric would reserve judgment on that account.

If truth be told, Alric hadn’t expected to be caught in the middle of this. Katrie Sedai had been going on in her energetic way about what she called, “The curious case of Afanen Vallen.” It didn’t dawn on Alric until he’d agreed that a tutor might help the girl, that she’d been briefing him. So here he was, sitting in one of the private study rooms, with a stack of children’s books. He’d brought a book on grammar just in case, but he hoped he wouldn’t need it.

He’d never taught somebody how to read before. Starting her with the alphabet seemed reasonable. Then move on to identifying common words. Alric was thinking back to the way he’d learned, sitting on his mother’s knee. He was pretty sure that knee sitting in any form would be frowned upon today.

His musing were cut off by a timid knock at the door.

“Enter,” he called, standing and straightening his coat. You only get one first impression.

The door cracked and Alric could see a dark almond shaped eye peeking through. Slowly the door slide open all the way to reveal a short girl with dark skin and a mass of hair that was almost as curled as his. The way she stood in the doorway drawn in on herself and seeming to almost down in her Drin uniform reminded him of countless green recruits and conscripts he’d met in the Army.

For a moment, he was twenty again, wearing a uniform that clung in all the wrong places and was too large in all the others. He hadn’t wanted to be there. Thoughts of home pulled at him as he awkwardly knocked on the tent post. A gruff voice from inside bade him enter. Inside he found an older man with a blocky face and massive biceps.

Alric Aurella, reporting as ordered, Sir. he’d stammered out. Javier, his former master had to have said something too, but he couldn’t remember.

After an appraising look, the man said, Havar Demoux, and it’s not ‘Sir’, It’s Sergeant. I work for my living.

He’d been so wrapped up in his own fear in those days, that his memories of Javier, who had also been pressed into service that day were all rather hazy. He’d been too old for the battlefield, but they hadn’t cared. Mayene lost one of its greatest scholarly minds in that war.



Back in the present, Alric reminded himself, he had a task to do. Smiling warmly, he strode around the table with an outstretched hand, “Ms. Vallen, I presume? Alric Aurella, Soldier.” As he held out his hand to shake, Alric noticed one more think about timid Ms. Vallen, under her mousy demeanor, she was actually rather stunning.

Scarred hands grasped and tugged at the fitted cuffs that would not budge from her wrists no matter how hard she pulled. Affie kept her head bow, refusing to look anyone in the eye. She wanted to cry. Her motions were curt, jerky, her agitation clearly visible to anyone that bothered to look. She cursed ferociously, the unending barrage of verbal garbage rattling around in her skull as the small Drin made her way reluctantly through the Yards, every step taking her closer and closer to the Grey Tower itself.

It had never mattered before!

Fingers folded against her palms and the Altaran watched her feet with single minded purpose. Nobody had cared whether or not she could... read the squiggly lines and strange symbols; nobody had cared that she couldn’t write the stupid things either! Not here though. It was necessary to be... what was the word the scandalized channeling woman had used... Literate.

I’ll literate her! Affie thought angrily. It was bad enough that the busy body Aes Sedai had made her feel about an inch tall; being pointed at and humiliated followed. The words weren’t new... she had been called a street rat before. Worse. The burst of ice that constricted her chest... that was unexpected. She had wanted to crawl into the nearest hole and hide. When the smug woman finally dismissed her, the Drin did just that. She had grabbed her pillow and blanket and spent the next two days in an out of the way place in the gardens.

She had been discovered by none other than Ravak Gaidin. Somehow, he knew what had happened. He didn’t speak of it, merely walked her back to the barracks, frowning. Affie had expected some kind of... well anything but silence. When her pillow and blanket had been returned to her room, he told her of certain arrangements being made. She would know soon. The Master of Training set her off to the kitchens for some food. Before she had finished her meal, a Novice had delivered a message that she was to go to this specific room. Nothing further.

The halls that she slinked through were so bloody bright and crowded and noisy - why couldn’t they be like the ones Nate had taken her through? Those had been empty and quiet enough. She inhaled sharply through her nose, giving her cuffs another yank and began counting her steps. The dark skinned woman didn't want to go... but she wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to look at Ravak’s frown again. She got lost and had to retrace her steps. Still lost. Finally, she was forced to ask where she was.

By the time she arrived at the designated place, she was completely flustered on top of everything else. Oh no no, what if... Affie squeezed her eyes shut and knocked on the door. Her knuckles barely made a sound. She had agreed to become a Gaidin; the Master of Training hadn't kicked her out yet. Her eyebrows lifted at the sound of the male voice calling for her to enter. She pushed open the door hesitantly, peering into the room cautiously. The first thing that she noticed was the black uniform. A Soldier. She stared. What was a Soldier doing here? Did she have the wrong room? Nate was a Soldier too but sometimes it was difficult to tell since he seemed to enjoy running about in nothing but his small clothes.

This Soldier was fully clothed at least. He smiled at her and she realized abruptly that his skin was even darker than hers. He had an unruly curly mess of hair that was like hers... Affie felt her toes shifting in her boots as she fought down the urge to cringe back as he approached her. Gaidin didn’t flinch.

“Ms. Vallen, I presume? Alric Aurella, Soldier.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment, then gave his outstretched hand the same blank look. Who...? What...? Was he talking to her? They... hands... shaking hands? She tentatively grasped his hand and then her arm moved up and then down, guided by his. That... seemed like the right thing to do?

“No need for the miss,” she found herself repeating. Ravak had referred to her as ‘miss’ once. It was as surreal now as it had been then. “My name is Afanen, but they’ve started calling me Affie around the Yards.” She withdrew her touch, her fingers attempting to pull the cuffs down over her hands again. Unsuccessful. She glanced around the room, noting the books, the wide table with two chairs. Alric was a Soldier, so... maybe he needed help carrying something? Though he seemed quite capable himself... Having no earthly idea as to what she was doing here, she peered up at him. “What... what can I help you with?”

Wait, nobody told her? he thought, eyebrow shooting up momentarily. He’d noticed things could slip Katrie Sedai’s mind when she was excited about something. Usually they just ended with him being lit slightly on fire. She’d probably been so happy she had a readymade tutor for the girl, that she’d forgot to have the messenger tell her exactly what she was being summoned for. Well that was life.

Taking note of her awkward hand shake, and general standoffishness, Alric withdrew to his side of the small room giving her another polite smile. Gesturing her towards her chair, he answered, “Actually, Afanen, Affie? Which is better?” After pausing for an answer, he continued, “Actually I’m here to help you. I’m your new private tutor. They say you can’t read or write. There’s no shame in that,” he quickly added, watching her face darken.

No shame in his eyes at least. His grandparents had come to Mayene unable to read or write the local language. They had learned though, and became rather wealthy in their new home. Some here would consider her illiteracy a great shame. They’d push her aside, or worse try to use her. He remembered his grandmother’s stories well enough. Watching the way, Afanen tried to sink in on herself and hide those scarred hands, Alric knew, they’d try to eat her alive here. The battle field was different, so were the tactics. One thing didn’t change though, he’d do the same thing he’d done for countless scrawny, terrified recruits he’d been given. He’d give her a fighting chance.

Steely determination masked by a polite smile, Alric began their lesson. Writing out the alphabet on a sheet of paper, he explained, “Each word is made up of different letters. Once you learn each letter, how it sounds, and what sounds it makes when you put it with other letters, we’ll be able to teach you to read words. Thankfully we’re not actually having to teach you to speak the language as well.” He remembered long candle lit hours, trying to learn vocabulary in the Old Tongue, as a younger man. Pointing to each letter in turn, he said the name out loud, looking for a hint of comprehension in the young woman’s dark eyes.

Shoulders still hunched and drawn in closer to her body, Affie settled next to the Soldier and watched with a mixture of awe and dismay as he began writing those strange shapes and squiggled lines that hurt her eyes to look at. He made it look so easy!

Letters, Alric called them, each with a corresponding sound. Each symbol was different. Every word was made with just these letters? The small Drin looked dubiously down at the sheet of paper, then up at him. How did that work? There were so many words - and so few letters. But... if she learned, then she could find out the truth for herself.

She stared as hard as she could at each of the different symbols and repeated the sounds after the Soldier.

---

Affie recited the letters back to Alric, a faint smile coming to her face as he told her she had gotten them all right. He held a stack of... cards?... in his hands. He took one off the top and flipped it up towards her so she could see it. She promptly identified the letter and named it. And the next, and the next, and the one after that. So on and so forth, until the stack was exhausted.

The Altaran shared another tentative smile with the Soldier, though his was wide enough to split his face. Dark eyes glanced away and she busied herself with her cuffs again.

---

The pen fit awkwardly in her hand. It kept slipping out of her grasp. Alric had suggested she use her ‘dominant’ hand. She didn’t know what that meant and had instead grabbed the pen with whichever hand it was closest to.

The pad beneath her thumb and the edge of her palm were cramping. The letters she was making were crooked and misshapen and they looked gigantic next to Alric’s uniform, neat script. Affie grimaced and switch hands, picking the pen up with her right hand and continuing down the line.

Every few letters she switched hands again, the writing feeling no better or worse. It all looked ugly and lumpy; both of her hands cramped the same, in the same places. The only difference was, when she wrote with her left hand, she smeared ink across the page.

“Done,” she said quietly, refusing to meet his eyes as she pushed the messy paper at him.

He was encouraging and too soon, Affie was making ugly letters again and smearing ink across the paper.

---

She practiced writing in the room that was hers before going to sleep. Five sheets, at first. Then ten. It seemed to be helping. Her letters no longer looked unrecognizable; they almost matched Alric’s at times... but hers were fat and rounded, lacking the precise corners and angles that his had. She still couldn’t finish one entire sheet using the same hand, and changed part way through. It went faster that way... even faster if she turned it into a game. The letters she’d written with her right hand for one sheet, she wrote with her left. She letters she’d written with her left hand, she wrote with her right. Sometimes, she alternated every other letter.

When she entered the classroom, two weeks had passed. When she finally presented Alric with her stack of practice sheets, left hand bearing the perpetual smear of ink on it, Affie did so with a tiny little flourish.

As he thumbed through the stack of papers, Alric’s face brightened considerably. Affie’s handwriting had improved considerably. Her triumphant flourish when she handed over her homework, had caused the beginnings of a smile, but now a full white toothed grin split his face. He was reminded of his first assignment as an officer. As a newly minted lieutenant, he’d been given a squad of fresh recruits who barely knew which end of a pike was the dangerous end, and told to turn them into a competent group of soldiers. After two months of endless drill, classes, and hard discipline, he’d proudly presented his captain with a squad as sharp as any in the army. Many of those soldiers went on to become some of the most respected in his company. Alric doubted he’d have to shout cadence at Affie in the rain, but the feeling was all the same. She was improving. It was a great feeling as a teacher.

Sitting in their customary seats next to each other, Alric said, “Your letters are coming along well, you’ll have plenty of time to get better with them as we move forward. Now, we’re going to start turning the letters into words.” Positive reinforcement never hurt. While she was warming up to him, he could tell she hadn’t had much in the way of positive human contact in years. He filed that away for future attention, and continued with the lesson.

“Do you remember our first lesson? Each letter has its own sound, but when you put some letters together they have different sounds. I’ll teach you the simplest way I know how. Every rule has an exception and if I try to teach that we’ll be here all day. Or I’ll just jump out that window. Just know, these are general cases not hard rules.” On a fresh sheet of paper, Alric wrote out various letter combinations explaining the sounds they made.

Together they sounded each combination out. Her occasional stumbles were met with confidence and reassurance. Alric knew she could do it, he couldn’t let her become discouraged though. She was getting more right than wrong so Alric decided to try teaching her to read and write simple words. Using a child’s picture book he’d brought for the occasion, he pointed at pictures of things like balls or doors or animals and asked her to do her best to write the name. He vowed to stay away from trickier words such as weight or that debacle that was though, through, and thorough as long as he could. He’d just confuse the poor girl, and probably reduce himself to tears in the process.

Watching her write, he noticed she was still struggling to form certain letters. Writing them backwards or to similarly to other letters. “May I?” he asked, as he carefully reached out with a callused hand to guide hers.

For a while, things were normal. Affie watched Alric write, still in awe at how easy and effortlessly he made it look. It still took all of her concentration, and even then, she couldn’t go even half as fast.

She fidgeted in her seat as she struggled to sound out the words that Alric pointed to. Ones like ‘dog’ and ‘cat’ were fairly simple. Ones like ‘squirrel’ and ‘pigeon’ gave her fits and she had to finally have the Soldier help her. The Altaran muttered something about the words being liars, much to his amusement. Well it was true. Where were the ‘k’ and ‘j’ sounds? That was when she learned about silent letters and exceptions. Not so good.

Despite her frustration, she was... enjoying herself. It wasn’t so bad. And it baffled the small Drin. She... liked what Alric said to her... it was nice. He was nice. Her mouth kept twitching upwards. No matter how hard she tried to stop, she couldn’t. Whenever her tentative gaze met his, and he wasn’t speaking, she ducked her head and stared intently down at the words she was trying to sound out. Flustered, her tongue would trip over itself and the syllables would come out wrong. It was easier to write them out... then she didn’t have to try and talk.

A quarter of an hour passed before she got her nerves under control. ‘Deer’, ‘bee’, ‘mouse’, ‘fish’... Her expression was thoughtful as she glanced at the indicated picture, then back at the words she had written. Then to the correction Alric had made. It was ‘bear’ and not ‘bare’ though she still thought the way she’d written it the first time seemed better.

“May I?”

Affie froze and went completely still as one of Alric’s larger hands closed around hers. Her right hand. She jammed the pen tip into the sheet of paper and a giant blob of ink spurted out in response to the jerky motion. Dark eyes swung up to the Soldier as she tensed, but he wasn’t looking at her or their joined hands, but down at the paper. He was... doing something... guiding her hand...? She fidgeted in her seat again and watched as he helped her regulate and smooth out her letters, quietly explaining that she had made some of them backwards or too similarly to others.

It wasn’t until after he had released her hand and gone on to teach her how to write out and read simple sentences that she peered up at him cautiously during a lull. The small Drin shifted in her seat, half turning, and her knee bumped against the side of Alric’s leg.

“Can write with my left hand too,” she told him solemnly, holding said hand out in front of her before nudging at his fingers. She then rolled his hand over and placed her palm against his. “Earlier, you showed one and not the other. This one needs help too. It smears ink a lot.”

Teaching somebody how to read and write was both rewarding and frustrating. Even the words Alric chose as “simple” words refused to follow any sort of pattern. He just hatted not being able to explain why something was the case. He was a man of learning dammit, he should be able to explain why you can drink to beers but you shoot two deer. Why had Katrie even thought he’d be a good choice for this? He’d always been more interested in the natural sciences, rhetoric, and philosophy. Linguistics weren’t his strong suit, other than lessons in the Old Tongue, Alric had never really given to much thought to the “whys” of language.

If there was a bright spot to these lessons, it was Affie herself. She attacked the work with such determination. He couldn’t help but smile at the gleam of pride in her dark eyes when she grasped a concept. Even for all the confusing rules and exceptions of their language, she seemed to be enjoying herself. Might it be an innate love of learning? She’d have to be careful, or she’d wind up becoming a dusty old scholar. He was about to say this, when she muttered that words were liars. He nearly choked on the words, broad shoulders heaving in mirth. She was right though. Words were liars. Once he managed to stop laughing, he said, “Wisdom for the ages, Affie. Keep learning though, you’ll find out the depths of their lies.”

Their lesson continued rather smoothly, at one point, he had to reach out and help her as she struggled with her sentences. He didn’t think much of it as he guided her hands through the various lines and loops, but as he released her scarred hand, he was reminded of the way she’d consistently tried to hide her hands, in a way that actually drew more attention to them, in their earlier meetings. Alric decided not to mention the change and instead forged ahead in their lessons.

Eventually, the young woman turned to him, her knee brushing against his leg. Looking up at him with inscrutable dark eyes, she said, “Can write with my left hand too.” She nudged his hand with her own. In a manner that reminded him of his old cat when he had wanted his ears scratched, she pressed her left hand into his own. “Earlier, you showed one and not the other. This one needs help too. It smears ink a lot,” she said giving him an insistent look.

Alric froze, giving her a look that was somehow both astounded and amused. Looking down at her fine boned face, Alric said, “Um, Affie, most people can’t write with both hands.” Raising his right hand, he said, “This is my dominant hand. It’s my ‘sword hand’ as well. I’ve learned how to fight with my off hand, but I’m not as good. Most people tend towards one hand or the other, usually the right. If you can write with both hands, that’s quite the talent.” Dipping his own pin, he tried writing his name with his left hand. It was a slow and painstaking process but the letters were probably worse than hers. The angles were off, they were oddly cramped and spread out in all the wrong places. With a rueful laugh he said, “Maybe once you’ve practiced more, you’ll be able to teach me.”

He paused, wrestling down certain errant thoughts and stabbing them for good measure. Back to the lesson idiot, he chided himself. The moment hung in silence. After an awkward pause that seemed to last for an age, he managed to pull his gaze away from her inscrutable dark eyes and her high cheekbones. “So,” he said in an over casual voice, “punctuation.”

Dominant hand. Sword hand. He didn’t go on to say how it was a talent to write with both hands. She just... did. It hadn't taken her any extra effort or lessons or bribes of gold... Just being able to didn't make it anything special? Affie peered up at Alric dubiously as he slid her palm gently off of his, already beginning with some kind of demonstration. The small Drin watched as he wrote with his left hand; the letters looked like hers!

She gave him another dubious look, the very idea of her teaching him anything at all to do with reading or writing... strange. She banished that thought immediately and studied the sheet of paper with the cramped, crooked lettering that wasn’t hers. As they moved on to something he called punctuation, Affie touched the dried ink and began tracing over the marks.

A week later and she still didn’t understand half of what Alric was trying to teach her. The basics, she grasped. But what was the point of a semicolon? She still had no idea when to use one... or how... and the same could be said for the colon and a few other things. Her frustration was nearly palpable and the walls of the classroom were making her restless. The Altaran fidgeted in her seat and shifted back and forth for several minutes. She wanted to go back to reading and writing. That made sense, for the most part.

“I don’t understand,” she said finally, breaking through Alric’s strained encouragement. “Don’t think I’ll ever understand.” A finger went to indicate the semicolon and all the other small marks around it, her eyes going up to look at the Soldier. “Can we go back to reading and writing? Or go outside.” Her face brightened a little. “Reading and writing outside?”

Maybe she was right. He had dived into topics far above her head with semicolons and colons and the like. She’d picked up everything else rather quickly; it had been worth a shot. At this point, it was good that she understood periods, exclamation points, and question marks. Maybe Affie was right though, a change of scenery wouldn’t hurt them. After packing up their supplies, Alric led them to one of his favorite study spots. A sheltered clearing in the gardens with a large oak tree. The tree had long since starved out anything larger than grass and golden sunlight shone down through the branches catching moats of dust. He’d always been surprised that he never saw to anybody else back here. It was so far off the beaten path, that he wondered if anybody other than him had set foot here. The place had a still feeling, like a shrine, or maybe a museum during the day. Almost reverently, Alric lead Affie to the base of the oak tree to take a seat.

Fishing around in his bag, Alric pulled out another book. This one a collection of fables and children’s tales. While the stories were for children, this collection had been composed to be read from by an adult. The book itself was beautifully illuminated and included illuminations from each story. He had a suspicion that most Browns would have a conniption if they knew he’d just wanted the book to teach somebody to read. He could have chosen any other children’s book, but this was the only edition of “The Tales of Martin” the Tower Library had. His mother had read him stories from an admittedly less ornate copy as a child.

“Thumb through it,” Alric said in the voice of a man in a library. To speak in a louder voice would have felt somehow indecent, or even sacrilegious. “If you see a picture you like, go to the start of the story and read me the title.” He settled in, with his back against the oak and one knee drawn up, positioning himself so he could watch over Affie’s shoulder as she thumbed through. “Careful though, if you mess up this book, the Browns will have my head,” he added with a soft smile.

The nape of her neck prickled as Alric settled in behind her. The small Drin shifted until she could see him out of the corner of her eye. Better. That left her back exposed to the empty swath of ground that led out into the rest of the gardens but... it’s okay she told herself. Affie looked up at the giant oak tree and peered up at the branches. This would make a good place to sleep, if she ever needed it.

Remembering what he had said about the book she cradled it in her lap and slowly began flipping the brightly coloured pages. “Won’t ruin it. Won’t mess it up.” She glanced over at him and smiled a little. “Wouldn’t do that to you.”

Dark eyes dropped to the words and the fancy giant lettering that started every new story. Her fingertips traced over each one, gaze following the swirls and sworls of knotwork and stylized shapes of leaves and animals. She returned to the beginning of the book, studying the pictures in earnest. Her lips curved up higher at the image of a small mouse brandishing an equally tiny sword. Her finger went beneath the first word and with only a slight note of hesitance to her quiet voice, she began reading out loud.

---

Martin the Warrior Mouse wasn’t the only thing she read. The oak tree became their go to place for reading and she liked it better than the classroom. It got easier and easier as the days passed and after a while, Alric barely had to move, except to help her sound out new words.

Proving that you were a princess required sleeping on a lot of mattresses and feeling a pea underneath all of that. That was impossible. How did the pea not get squished? And there was the one with the dimwitted girl in the red cloak... and the wolf that wore clothes? How did that trick anyone? But there was bread and cheese in that story so it wasn’t all bad. And her favourite was the one about the house made out of things to eat, though if Affie herself had been in that one, she supposed the bad lady would have cooked her... but what if the entire house had been eaten and the bad lady had nowhere else to live?

The slight Altaran handed the book over to Alric. She peered up at him and then back down at the page, her finger slowly moving beneath the title. “Will you read this one to me?” It... was about someone beautiful that slept... but the pictures had red puffy looking flowers with thorns and a... snake with horns...?... coiled around the giant letters that looked to be breathing fire.