Light, Amaranie was from Amadicia? No wonder the other girl had squirmed so at her question. It took a moment to master herself, but Haxia managed to shut her mouth before Amaranie looked up and saw. How had she made it to the Grey Tower? Haxia could only imagine, and she was certain she had no true idea of the trial it must have been. Swallowing, Haxia reached out to grasp the other girl’s hand for a moment. “I am glad you are here, Amaranie.” She told the other girl, before withdrawing her hand. Suddenly nervous that she had said and done the wrong thing, Haxia returned her attention to the game.
She explained their hands, her voice too loud and excited for the topic, and lead the two of them through the first few rounds. Light, Amadicia? Altara separated Murandy and Amadicia, but Haxia still knew enough about the nation to be horrified. Whitecloaks had come to Lugard once, although Haxia had only seen them from windows, and never actually encountered them. Still, it had been frightening, and her father’s words on them had been anything but admiring. And Haxia knew very well what Whitecloaks thought of Aes Sedai- witches and darkfriends. She could not comprehend what Amaranie might feel, to find herself a novice. At least Haxia knew she was not a darkfriend, even if she had no desire to be Aes Sedai.
Suddenly, it did not seem enough that she had only traded her nationality for this knowledge. “My father forced me to come to the Grey Tower.” Haxia told the other girl, as she played the ace of clubs. Her hand was better than Amaranie’s, and unless the other girl drew something truly miraculous, she was about to win. For once, it brought her no joy. “I kept having dreams. Dreams where I was at home, only no one was there with me, even though it felt like someone was watching me. Doors would open with no one behind them, a vase might disappear and reappear somewhere else...” Haxia shuddered, drew an arm about herself. “Something happened in those dreams, so father sent me here, for the Aes Sedai to fix me.” She smiled, grim, and could not bear to tell Amaranie about what had happened. She rubbed at the scar on her forearm, hidden by her sleeve, and looked away. “But apparently there is no fixing me, and they were only too happy to see me sign the novice book.”