The Murdock Principle

[Chris]

Murdock Mather, Keeper of the Archives
The office was clean, organised and proper, as if Murdock was expecting company. The truth of it was - the place was always in this condition. The paperwork in the appropriate slots. The plants properly watered. The rug placed centrally beneath the desk to catch the blood from the most recent body that acquainted it.

Not that Murdock conducted his research on this desk. There were no grooves to catch the blood, the grain was all wrong, and it simply wasn't long enough for the average man to lie upon without their feet dangling off. But still - there was a rug underneath, just in case. Much easier to replace a rug than scrub a floorboard.

It was late, and the candles burned low as Murdock read in his comfy chair, not at his desk, but in the corner of the room. It afforded him a view of the rest of his spartan space and made him feel safe, like a cat in a box, but in a place where he could still be productive. Reports of activity at the former grounds of the White Tower were his current interest; he read everything meticulously, left little notes to himself in the margins with a pencil, and all in all looked quite at peace. Soft lighting smoothed out the few wrinkles, the crow's feet and the line of worry or possibly irritation on his forehead. Unbothered and uninterrupted, he could almost be considered pleasant.

The shadows in the room deepened in the corner of his vision and with an inward sigh, Murdock got to his feet and set the paperwork on his chair. He picked up the handy walking stick, a gift from Elia in a time long gone by, so he could remain standing for more than a minute. It also made it easier for him to kneel before the wisp of shadows that formed a humaoid pillar in front of him, treading mud into his clean rug. Inconsiderate.

"I live to serve," Murdock intoned, but perhaps his manner was a little too much of a drawl, a prayer said too often to hold any real meaning any longer.

"You believe you do." The shadow's voice rumbled low and tinny, no natural human sound. The tingle along Murdock's arms suggested Saidar at work. Interesting. Hopefully a ward on the room and a lock on the door. "We have reason to believe otherwise. Since your... upheaval... with finding your daughters, there are quite a few people unhappy with you."

"They took my family, so I removed theirs," Murdock said glibly. A swat of air across his back made him wince.

"I was not looking for feedback Murdock," the person hissed. "We have agreed that you may keep your daughters; your behaviours in finding them were commendable, but too many people died in your efforts. Including the Green was also something we prefer to avoid."

"Me too," Murdock muttered.

"However, this kindness does not come free. You are going to do more, Murdock. Be more." Air lifted the Keeper's head so he met the non-eyes of the shadowy figure. "Your ambition is going to match your competence. Now listen well; I will not repeat these instructions."

Ugh. Couldn't a man experiment on bodies in peace?

[Craig]

Kaira Darrow

In her experience, which admittedly was from some few years ago, people did not flounce in the Grey Tower. Surely a Novice would be switched for taking such liberties with their appearance, and how it reflected upon the Grey Tower. She guessed that an Accepted wouldn't dare, due to how she would be perceived by others. They acted like Aes Sedai, but they also needed the sisters to progress and find an Ajah. As for actual Aes Sedai, she hadn't seen a besotted Green giddy in the corridors, but perhaps?

So when Kaira flounced up one of the circular staircases of the Grey Tower, she had to be an unusual sight. If her dress had been white, someone certainly would have stepped in front of her to send her to the Mistress of Novices, if only for the mud well-caked around the hemline. Instead it was a bright blue, a touch lighter than the Cairhienin flag. She suspected the seamstress would have preferred if the cloth had been a true Cairhienin blue, as it was in the Cairhienin style. Well, Kaira was happy enough with it, off-colour or otherwise. The true winning quality of the dress is that it wasn't for formal occasions, so the skirt was narrow enough as to not interfere with the sheathed estoc around her waist.

Footsteps ahead gave her a moment's pause, and she slowed to a regular ascent. A Soldier appeared on the stairs above, and he scanned her up and down twice before passing her. Kaira paused, hoping for a third confused look back over his shoulder, but he swiftly disappeared beyond sight. What did he make of this fair maiden donning sword and dress? She wouldn't get an answer. With a slight pout now set on her face, she continued upwards, curious to see how far she'd get before someone actually questioned her presence.

No-one did. The stairs came to its conclusion, and Kaira paused on the threshold. The corridor before her ended with two sets of doors facing one another. She knew the layout of the rooms well, symmetrical along the length of the corridor, two identical offices in shape and scale. Not the spiralling confluence of the fang and the flame. She gave a second's thought to whether the architects could have made that work, before focusing on the next question. What am I doing here? She had no reason to stand before either of these offices. Kaira had a nostalgia for visiting her aunt up here, but that was the same nostalgia she had for the Grey Tower as a whole.

She looked down at her right foot, the brown boot planted on the carpeted hallway at the tower's zenith. Her left boot was hidden by the dress, but it was still on the penultimate step. The muscles in her calves flexed slightly as she rocked on the spot.

"Well, no-one's stopped me yet," she said breathily. Kaira pushed off on her right leg, making the short walk to the doors. Instinctively she moved away from the familiar door and found herself rapping her knuckles against the other door. She pursed her lips to stop from smiling mischievously. Someone was about to be hit by the greatest sense of incredulity. At least, that was assuming the Keeper of the Archives was on the opposite side of the door.

[Chris]

The instructions were clear. They were fairly straightforward and Murdock repeated them back to the shadowed figure with word for word accuracy. They nodded just the once with their non-head, which Murdock supposed to mean they approved of his ability to repeat information back like sinister wedding vows.

"We will be watching you," the figure said in conclusion, as Murdock remained on his knees with his stick to hand. "We-"

There was a knock at the door. Well timed, possibly? Murdock wasn't expecting a late night visitor. Multiple in one evening, how fortunate for him.

The shadows shifted, and in the blink of an eye the original of the intruders on his time dissipated. The candles resumed their efforts in lighting the room and everything felt much less heavy; Murdock didn't realise he'd been holding his breath, as if breathing too heavily would deplete the room and catch him out. Now he exhaled, partly glad at the interruption, partly irritated that his reading was interrupted by something interrupting the original interruption. Still. At least the shadow saw itself out. This one he would have to deal with himself.

Murdock put the thoughts of the shadow to the back of his mind as he stood up properly, turned his neck to get the crick out of it, and limped on over to the door. There was no point in distractions; he had work to do in what he idly referred to as "the day job", even at night.

The visitor was not one he immediately recognised. She looked familiar, in a way Murdock couldn't quite discern at first. The polite "what can I help you with" face Murdock wore gave way to bemusement as the tall Keeper took in the whelp of a girl. Dirty hem. Dirty boots. Not a trainee, surely? But then she was wearing a weapon, so perhaps she was one of the women interested in the Warder training. Strange time of the day to be about it. Leaning on his stick, Murdock tried, and failed, to be friendly. "You're in the wrong place for the Master of Arms," he said, not offering any further information on the correct location either despite its incredible closeness. "What are you doing up here at this hour? Don't you children have a curfew?"

There was a pause as Murdock looked at the girl more closely. Unlike a number of Browns, who acted vague and took in information sideways to make a dramatic reveal at their secret awareness of their surroundings, Murdock did not bother with such displays of subtlety. He inspected her face, the insolent shape of her nose, the defiant look in her eyes, the gleam of her hair against the light from the hallway. Then it occurred to him who his visitor was, and the man just let out a very simple:

"Ugh."

But he did limp back into his office and leave the door open, so she could enter as she so pleased.

[Craig]

Kaira was smirking at the Keeper's back before she knew it. She justifiably should have been insulted at the outburst, but the absurdity of it got to her. The admonishment that preceded the Asha'man's distaste was the reaction she'd been waiting for all day. No-one in her position should have been able to get this far without being stopped, or even questioned. Yet she had made it to the Keeper of the Archives without event, but that reaction - oh! - this day of foolishness got to continue on.

She hovered in the corridor for only a moment before taking a step in, pushing the door shut without looking with her boot. This Keeper may be willing to entertain her being here, but the Keeper behind her may not have the same sense of levity. The door closed with a quiet slam.

She had several choices before her. Some would definitely land her in hot water quicker than others, but she wanted this farce to last at least a little longer. The room offered little insight into the man in front of her. The plants were a nice touch.

The Keeper reached a point in the office and turned towards Kaira. She needed to say something or this was going to end.

"Well, it's been quite a while since I was last ughed at." She put her hands behind her back, and gave a bow. "I'm honoured that you would receive me at this hour, Keeper." Despite the circumstances, she was being serious. Straightening out, she relaxed, habitually placing one hand on her sword's hilt. "My name's Kaira. If I'm not mistaken, I don't think we've met before, so can I ask, why the ugh? Is it because you know my father, or because you knew my mother? Unless it's just that you just don't care for pretty girls who show up at your door?" The insolent grin was back. She couldn't help it.

[Chris]

"Well, it's been quite a while since I was last ughed at," the girl said.

"Hmm? Have you not seen anyone for a while?" Murdock asked without really thinking about it. He had his back to the girl now as he had hobbled over to one of his bookshelves, looking for something that he figured may be of interest to the girl. He glanced over his shoulder at the introduction, seeing the endings of a bow, and supposed that she could certainly be worse, so she had that going for her. He didn't invite her to sit, though the desk proper had a perfectly adequate chair for such things (his comfier corner chair still remained occupied by his readings earlier).

"You may ask, Kaira," he replied without looking back.

Then he carried on looking for the book he was after, offering no further explanation in that immediate moment.

A slightly awkward amount of time later he did take out a tome that was once dusty but had been hastily scrubbed clean, and moved to put it on the desk. Only then did he deign to answer her question. (The fact he knew where the book was this whole time is neither here nor there.) "I am familiar with both of your parents," he said, which technically counted as a double ugh. "In fact - come observe this piece of history, written before your parents were such." He nodded towards the open book.

Some time ago, he and Miahala had an adventure in Saldaea which resulted in surprising and dramatic revelations. The Keeper himself was not Saldaean by birth, though the hawkish nose did lend itself to his Borderlander heritage and there was no reason to make any further connections based on that. However... He opened the book on the desk to the bookmarked page he had kept for, seemingly, circumstances such as these; on it was a neat and well written family tree, though it was not recent enough to include Ravak in it. Still, as Murdock took up a pencil and pointed it dramatically, it was clear to see - Miahala's name, clear as anything. Up the tree from her, along for a bit, and then back down again, was Murdock's mother, and then Murdock Mather himself. The line, curiously, included Giselle and his daughters. He made no mention of those.

"We are distantly related, you and I," he told the girl. "My commisserations." He didn't know if this was something Miahala had mentioned before, or indeed if Ravak was even aware. Murdock supposed there was no reason to keep it secret, but then he got the impression the Green didn't care to share it out either. Since he'd retrieved his daughters, Murdock had had precious little to do with the woman - her usefulness was much less now there wasn't anything to set on fire.

"How old are you, and can you channel?" he asked.

[Craig]

Kaira

Kaira stepped deeper into the Keeper's office with a furrowed brow. He wasn't in the least what she expected, not that she knew this Asha'man at all, but broadly she understood how people conducted themselves in the Tower. He was irreverent, which ought to be a positive quality when so many of the full rank channelers walked like there was a rod along their spine. The sardonic tone when he spoke somehow made him seem worse rather than better.

Regardless, he had taken out a book for her to look at, so she got closer to the desk and the Asha'man. Piece of history? She couldn't imagine what she was about to see. As far as she knew, her father and her aunt were the first members of the family to make a name for themselves. This must be about mum... As the Asha'man gestured with the pencil, Kaira felt a bit peculiar.

"Miahala?" It was barely a whisper, a thought given voice without conscious action.

"We are distantly related, you and I." Kaira stared down at the open pages, starting to read up and down the family tree. She recognised a good number of names: Caden, Sadira, Haeden, Darien. She wasn't there, nor was her father. He did say before my time. Looking up the tree, all of the names were unfamiliar. Scanning across the pages, she didn't see anything else that jumped out. Clearly there was some name she was meant to notice.

"How old are you, and can you channel?"

Kaira looked up at the Keeper, an eyebrow raised. In the moment she wanted to just show him exactly how much she could channel, but she quashed that adolescent impulse immediately. Instead she gave herself pause to think. Why are you asking these questions? You should know the answers.

She ceased leaning over the desk and straightened, placing her boots slightly apart. It was a stance the Drin would take in the Yards. Why she opted for this position, she couldn't easily say.

Stiffly, she responded. "I've seen thirty summers. And yes, I can channel." Sometimes.

Her gaze fell upon the Keeper's book, and she made a nod towards it. "To be honest, I'm not sure if we are related. Am I meant to know which of those people you are? You haven't said your name yet."

Then she decided to push the Brown a little more. "And are you sure you know my parents? Because that book reads Miahala, and she's just my stepmum."

[Chris]

As someone with a gaggle of daughters Murdock really ought to be able to tell one's age, but... he could not. He wouldn't have said thirty. Somewhere between... eighteen and eighty? He did not profess to understand the particulars of the fairer sex. Still. Her age, and her ability to channel, were useful to know for Reasons.

Oh, he hadn't given his name had he? Part of Murdock simply assumed people who visited his office knew who he was. Perhaps that was his ego at play, but seriously, this was his official office? And she simply knocked on his door and walked in? "You... came to my office... not knowing who I am?" he asked, though his tone was on the edge of amused. That did take a certain amount of gumption, after all, and there was something to be said for spirited youth facilitating change. He couldn't imagine simply swanning up to these offices as a trainee. Then again, Kaira was not strictly a trainee, from what he could tell. Whatever her rank, he was relatively placid when people he didn't consider a threat had a bit of a tongue, so he pointed out his name in the book with the pencil. "Murdock Mather. Keeper of the Archives. Brown Ajah. Oathsworn."

Also, it seemed, she was not who he first thought. Murdock had been so certain she was the offspring of the Green and the Grump that he was, for a moment, taken by surprise. He wasn't imagining her being with child, was he? Or was it simply that it had happened so many times he had lost track? The Keeper forced a smile and went to sit back on his comfy chair, letting the family tree remain on his desk for now. He moved the papers from his comfortable seat, set them neatly on the table next to him, then settled himself down with his bad leg propped up on a small stool. "Have a seat Kaira, if it so pleases you." He gestured to the chair facing the desk, so she'd have to turn it, but she was surely capable of that. "I sit at that desk all the time and this is better for my back."

From where she stood, Kaira was in pretty much the same spot as the shadowed visitor had been mere moments prior. Honestly, between precocious women and agents of the Shadow, Murdock thought he might prefer to deal with the latter. "Perhaps my facts are wrong," he agreed, because he was not so prideful as to be like 'stepmother is basically a mother' or 'that's what I meant'. Besides, neither would have been true...

"So tell me then Kaira, if Miahala is 'just' the stepmother, who are your actual parents? Folks of the Tower, I suppose; I had Ravak penned for the father. I hope you appreciate the confusion of an old man and his texts." Not that he looked particularly old, nor did he ever try to come across as confused. Murdock leaned back in his chair and rested his cane across his lap. "In any case, I am related to Miahala, so you can downgrade me to some sort of in-law should you like."

[Craig]

Kaira

Kaira peered sideways at Murdock as she moved his chair to sit upon. She didn't love his question. It would have been far easier if he'd just known the answer, or been content with knowing her father. Light, she should have just let him think Miahala-- No. Even if it was a white lie, she didn't want to have an awkward conversation somewhere down the line explaining why someone thought Miahala was her mother.

She unbuckled her belt, sat on the chair, then rested her weapon across her lap. She wanted to glance at the paperwork upon the Keeper's desk but thought better of it, so she smoothed her skirt out instead. That gave her a couple of moments to think. Am I just going to tell him? Maybe we just go back to the family angle. How would he react if she ran with his relationship to Miahala. Was it worth peppering in an "Uncle Murdock" just to see how this curious Asha'man would react? No, probably not. I could be the one regretting that move for centuries. Ugh.

Kaira looked up from her dress to meet Murdock's gaze. A lump was forming in her throat, but she tried pushing past it. "My mother was an Aes Sedai of the Grey Tower. Blue Ajah. She was er, she was, um, Cairheinin. Um." She looked away. Pressure was building up in her chest. The lump hardened. Kaira felt tears coming on. No.

"Mirin Sedai," she blurted too forcefully. "My mother was Mirin Sedai." The physical maladies vanished, just like that. I do this to myself. There's nothing for me to be ashamed of. She raised her eyes to meet the Keeper's. "That Mirin. The one who--" She mocked an explosion with her hands.

Her hands settled around the scabbard again, and it was an effort not to clench them. The truth was out, the worst was in the past. She sighed before trying to smile it away. "So yes, Ravak is my father. Miahala is my stepmother. And Mirin was my mum."

[Chris]

There was a strange feeling in the man's chest that he hadn't felt for some time. Oh the satisfaction, the smugness, those weren't new sensations. But this other one, what was it?

Empathy? For some young upstart who he'd never spoken to before?

Of course, it was a little more complex than that.

Murdock and Mirin's relationship had been somewhat tempestuous, but it was purely in a professional capacity. Had neither of them been in the Black Ajah, they might well have gotten along just fine. But hey, he broke her arm with Rending, she tried to kill him a few times, and then he and Elia joined forces to bring Emmond down. Oh, what a time that was! Mirin's ambition was her undoing, ultimately. As was Emmond's. And Elia's. Did the shadowy figure not wonder why Murdock was happy to do exactly what he was doing? He wasn't interested in blowing up the Novice quarters or taking over the Black Ajah.

Anyway. Mirin and Emmond were relics of the past. Why, Murdock hadn't even thought about them in a long time, so no wonder he didn't pair Ravak with her. (Was there any Aes Sedai who hadn't mothered a child by Ravak? Honestly...) But yes, he could see it now. The eyes of a woman long gone who had stared daggers at him as he held her shield, his second specialty outside of Rending. This one would be spirited.

The Brown was not aloof, and he'd tended to enough sad daughters to see what was happening across from him. To his own surprise, his response was not entirely out of amusement at Mirin turning in her grave at what was happening in his office right then. "The Grey Tower is no stranger to loss," he told her in a low voice. "The walls have a history of struggle. No worse than the White Tower, when that stood, or the Black. But we've seen conflict, and we've suffered losses of our own."

"But know this." Murdock leaned forwards slightly, "wherever we come from and whoever our parents were, the Grey Tower is also a home. And I am sure that Mirin Sedai would be thrilled to have you here now, mingling with the likes of this old Keeper." Alright, he couldn't resist a little bit. But his words were sincere.

"My daughters are here at the Grey Tower. A little older than you now, but all able to channel. They lost their mother when they were younger. The Black Tower..." the Brown faltered a little. Giselle was not someone he talked openly about where he could help it. Even now, so many years later, that hole in his heart refused to fill, and he wore his wedding ring to this day. Murdock cleared his throat, "nobody should go through that. You are fortunate to have a step-mother like Miahala."

"Perhaps you would be interested in making some like minded friends at the Grey Tower? My daughters came into Novicehood at an older age, and could help if that is the way you decide to take your training." A smile, a little rusty from lack of use, spread across his face like a slow-waking sloth. But it was genuine, and it warmed his words. Whatever he might think of Mirin, and how much she would hate this conversation happening between them, the man did find himself drawn to offering this support. It was most unbecoming.

[Craig]

Kaira

Kaira found herself unnaturally becalmed by the Keeper's words. She couldn't recall if she'd ever heard her mum's name come from another person's mouth without a barb attached to it. "Mirin Sedai would be thrilled to have you here now." She didn't think her father had expressed such sentiments.

She even took the kind words for Miahala to heart. It wasn't that Kaira had any animosity towards her stepmother. It's just that Miahala was this living legend, and they'd mostly interacted in a strict Novice / Aes Sedai context. Now that she was back - if she was back - that relationship may have an opportunity to grow. It was probably unavoidable. Light, I ought to embrace it.

As for the rest atop everything else, this would have been entirely too saccharine if the Brown wasn't being so sincere. Her, Father, Miahala, Murdock, his daughters: all one happy family in the Tower. Oh, and don't forget her half-siblings and all of Miahala's children. They could build a second Mar a'Mael for them all to live in.

She scoffed at the thought. This was all too much, a bit too fast. Her future at the Grey Tower wasn't certain, and all of this would be things to follow if she stayed.

Kaira peered downwards, shaking her head. "This is all a bit much," she mumbled. "I don't wish to be rude, it's just..." She took a hand off her scabbard to gesture vaguely in the air. "I've been back less than a day, and I don't know if I'm staying. I don't even know if I'm allowed to stay. I ran away as a Novice." She paused, squinting at the ceiling. "Well, I stopped being a Novice, then left Hama Valon. It wasn't quite a full-fledged rebellion. But I don't know how that plays in the Tower. Like, who's the Mistress of Novices? And is she just going to hear Miahala's name and suddenly everything's smoothed out. I don't know."

She slumped back into the chair, chin in her chest. One hand held the scabbard, the other was raised to her forehead. It shielded her from having to avoid Murdock's gaze. She thought back to everything he'd said, trying to regain that calming feeling. Yet again, her mood was spiralling. At least she wasn't acting on them this time.

"It would be good to have friends," she stated simply.