The First Taste of Poison [Attn: Craig] COMPLETE

[Jenny]

The Three Oaths had restricted her for only two days before the Black Ajah had freed her. But even so, Mirin had not yet proved herself to the Black Ajah. She had expected it, of course. As an Accepted, the Black Ajah had approached her and given her minor tasks. To pass notes, hidden in crevices and tucked behind tapestries. To leave hints, some as small as lighting a single candle. But none of these tasks held any real responsibility. The loyal servants of the Great Lord were too clever, too secretive, and too paranoid to be trusting of a mere Accepted.

The initiation ceremony, during which she had sworn new Oaths to the Great Lord, was only the first step to gaining true power. New members were tested for a year and a day. Mirin found that the tasks set before her proved to challenge and test her loyalty; and they also served as lessons on the secrets of the Black Ajah.

Before, she had delivered messages without knowing anything of what the notes might have meant. Now, she learned that the way the paper was folded meant as much as the words themselves. For example, a note folded slightly crooked was to be passed on without looking; and Mirin knew better than to peek. A square note was to be opened, read, and burned. And a diagonal fold meant that the instructions were to be obeyed immediately without question.

Those were just the simplest folds. There were also various seals, and envelopes, and creased corners, and colored strings tied around the papers... the list of hidden meanings stretched on and on and on.

The same went for the lighting of candles, or the location of messages, or the secret hand signals that were used between the Black Ajah and their spies. The Black had many secrets to divulge, but did not have the luxury of teachers or lessons. Mirin learned on the fly. She was a clever and driven woman, and she picked up on the secrets quickly - but still, she made mistakes.

And in the Black Ajah, a single mistake could be deadly.

-----
The note came in an envelope, wrapped squarely with a white thread. White, the color of mourning. Mirin found it tucked in her belt pouch. Although she carried her pouch everywhere and kept it wrapped around her waist, she still had no idea how the note had found its way to the pouch. She opened it in the privacy of her rooms, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the message.

A single name was printed in plain black ink. She memorized the name, and then carefully burned it in her fireplace, including the envelope and thread. For a moment she paused. But her hesitation only lasted a moment. Failure was unthinkable; her name could easily be next, with a quick death delivered by an anonymous hand.

She went to her tea cabinet, a sturdy yet elegant mahogany cabinet in her sitting room that displayed her modest collection of teas, with stained glassware containing dried leaves imported from all over the continent. From one of these, she scooped a spoonful into a small linen teabag.

-----
A few days later, Mirin sat at her desk, working in her office. Her hair was tied up out of her face with a white ribbon, a symbol of respect for Claerissa Sedai's recent death. Abruptly, she threw her pen down and buried her head in her hands.

She had been the Mistress of Novices for about two months. Her duties took up much of her energy and attention, with an ever-changing roster of Accepted and novices to manage. With over two dozen Accepted and nearly three times as many novices, she didn't know many of the girls as well as she would like and instead relied on the Accepted to provide her with insight and reports on their students. But some slipped through the cracks; Sinead, for example, had worn novice white for over seven years. Yet these seven years had seemed to make very little impression on the Aiel girl. Mirin thought that perhaps assigning her a roommate - and potential friend - would help provoke a change in attitude.

And of course there was the matter with Astoria, one of the Accepted. Mirin and Astoria had never gotten along, and now Mirin found it difficult to let go of her dislike of the girl. Especially after she found that Astoria had been spreading rumors about her, oh, Mirin could barely control her temper. Even worse, the Supreme Council had suggested that Astoria could perhaps be turned to the Shadow, but Mirin couldn't bring herself to agree...

A sudden knock on the door distracted Mirin from her thoughts and she lifted her head. She controlled her expression and allowed her facial muscles to go relax, feeling the strain melt away from her face. Mirin was far too new to have the ageless appearance - that wouldn't come for at least another year - but she could still appear as calm as any Aes Sedai.

"Come in," she called. She rearranged the silken skirts of her white mourning dress, wondering who would step in.

[Craig]

Ravak

Ravak Darrow walked briskly through the halls of the Grey Tower with a letter in hand. Today, he had been assigned the pleasing chore of being a courier. There was a small voice grumbling in the back of his mind, wondering why this task hadn't been handed off to a Novice or a Drin, but it was only a small voice. Having the relative freedom to wander around the Grey Tower and its grounds on errands was strictly better than mucking out the stables, or polishing endless rows of weapons he'd never personally use.

Brushing white motes from the darker grey of the Ji'alantin's uniform, Rav stepped around two Novices who were scrubbing the floors. He was entertained to realise that they both had red hair just as he did. Red hair was an oddity, and the confluence of the three of them all being in the same place together quirked his lips into a smile. Neither of them looked up or spoke as he passed them by.

He glanced at the letter again, although he already knew his next destination. He knew there was a new Mistress of Novices, or had been some time ago. It felt like months, but that was only because his survival test had occurred shortly thereafter. He scratched at the rough hair around his chin. He didn't know why he had continued growing this irriating beard after the test, but at least it had grown out properly; there had been several laughs at his expense when it was still short and scraggly.

Rav was better versed with the Tower than most of those in the Warders Yard, or he suspected as such. He still hung around the Library, and had found himself on personal errands for various Browns, thus expanding his knowledge of the endless corridors and staircases. Finding the Mistress of Novice's study was not so challenging after all of that. Coming up to the door, he glanced for the seventh time at the letter. The name hadn't changed. He knocked on the door, and waited for the perfunctory "Come in" before pushing down on the handle.

The first thing Rav noticed was the smell. Normally, the Grey Tower didn't play with his senses the way the Warders Yard did. The air always hung heavy with the intensity of the damage being wrought. The intent behind that was to practice, but it was violence all the same. The Tower was serenely scent-free, most of the time. But this room. This room had the tang of something different, something new. He wrinked his nose all the same.

The next feature he perceived was the woman sitting behind the desk. He didn't recognise her at first. She was short, and wore that aloof expression that most Cairhienin did. Despite that, there was an arresting quality to her, although he couldn't put a finger as to why. Nothing to do with Aes Sedai agelessness. To his surprise, there was none of that look of agelessness. He noticed the white of her dress, but her visage of composed calm couldn't have come from any other than an Aes Sedai. The white dress... That got him to the memory of the woman. An upbraiding in the Library, when he was still new to the Tower.

He processed all of this, the sights and the smell, in the space of a few heartbeats. He composed his own face, schooling his features into slight deference. He couldn't quite master a better expression with that smell. He saluted, right hand on heart, as he proffered the letter to her. "Mistress." He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say, or "Mirin Sedai", but the former seemed to better fit. Those light grey eyes gave nothing away. Briefly, he wondered if she would recall their previous encounter. Maybe he looked different enough for her not to realise. Under that penetrating look, he doubted it.

[Jenny]

A man stepped in. His face was vaguely familiar. Perhaps she had seen him around the Tower...

Then suddenly she remembered.

Her jaw clenched down, nicking the side of her tongue. But she stared unflinchingly at the man, ignoring the taste of blood that filled her mouth. Saidar, flowed into her, and she filled herself with the Power until it hurt, feeling as though one more drop would kill her. Every detail of the room jumped into focus - the grains of wood flowing down the dark panels lining the walls, the flecks of white on the Ji'alantin's uniform, the light of recognition in his eyes. His nostrils were flaring, and a wrinkle had formed across the bridge of his nose.

Strange, she thought. He looked as though he were sniffing a bad odor. She quickly dismissed the thought - there were other more pressing matters to attend to. Holding the Power was a joy. Beneath that emotion, she felt only fear. It was a miracle that her Compulsion on him had not been discovered. How could she have been so stupid as to forget about him?

She reached for the letter and gently plucked it from his hands. "Thank you," she said smoothly. She glanced at it - it wasn't urgent - and tossed it carelessly on her desk. "If I remember correctly... your name is Ravak? Actually, may I speak with you for a few minutes? This won't take long. I just have a few questions. Please, take a seat." She gestured toward one of the cushioned chairs, and then seized upon the first topic of conversation that came to mind.

"You may call me Mirin Sedai," she said. "Since I've been in office, I've had a little time to peruse my predecessor's notes - the former Mistress of Novices, Illyria Sedai. Anyways, she sometimes liked to speak with young Ji'alantin about their... intentions. I've heard that you like spending time in the Library, Ravak. Why is that?"

As she spoke, she looked for the weave of Compulsion that she had placed on his mind, all those months ago. It had weakened considerably with time, but the nerves of his mind had filled the gaps with new memories. Yes, perhaps she could remove it without any residual effect. Carefully, with meticulous detail, she wove the first layer of the weave in reverse. It settled into his mind... and then disappeared, taking with it part of the Compulsion. She started immediately on the second layer, knowing that she had a dozen more to go.

She stared intently at him as she spoke and wove simultaneously. A bead of sweat trickled down her spine. She hoped to remove the entire weave, leaving no trace of her forbidden talent. All she had to do was keep him occupied and distracted.

[Craig]

Ravak

Rav glanced down at the two chairs in front of her desk, and moved one slightly in order to take a seat. The chairs were extravagant compared to the one in his room. Someone had clearly taken a great deal of time making this, carving intricate scrollwork into its back and arms. Even the embroided cushions were finely made. Aes Sedai and Asha'man easily held the same level - a higher level - of respect than nobles, and these would have fit in any manor house. He was happy to oblige her request, not least because it got him off his feet for a few moments.

As soon as he was seated, she answered his unasked question. It was unnerving when women did that, but from an Aes Sedai it was doubly so. He would have to ask Katrie or Betrys about that the next time he saw either one of them. Either of them may laugh at him, for male foolishness no doubt, but in a kind-hearted way.

Grey eyes considered him carefully, even as Mirin Sedai took up a conversational tone. "I've heard that you like spending time in the Library, Ravak. Why is that?" That sounded like she had forgotten about their previous meeting. Some of the tension oozed out from muscles taut with worry. That unsavoury smell was a little stronger, this much closer to her. There was nothing to be garnered from that inscrutable visage.

"I enjoy reading," came his simple reply, but he carried on without a pause under that gaze. "I didn't do any travelling before I came to the Tower, or much since, so books are the best way for me to learn about the world outside. Who knows where a Gaidin's path will take them?" He spread his hands. "I would also like to think that whomever I'm eventually bonded with-" - he only considered one person worthy of that - "-would appreciate a Gaidin who knew more than how to swing a sword and pitch a tent."

He breathed in through his nose and regretted it immediately. He was still trying to puzzle out why this room - or the Mistress of Novices - had one of those smells attached to them. Not violence, at least nothing outright. He frowned a little in frustration. Of course it isn't violence - Aes Sedai don't involve themselves in that. He licked his lips and continued.

"There's also plenty of books and manuals on how to use a sword, or on the proper way to stand when firing a bow. Treatises on tactics and troop movements. Diaries and memoirs from rulers and generals. Plenty that would benefit any Drin or Ji."

He had been scratching idly at his beard whilst answering, and had dusted his uniform with white flakes. He brushed them off without thinking, then forced his face into an unabashed look. Better to look a preening fool than an idle-minded idiot. Her face remained unreadable. Clearly it wasn't agelessness that gave Aes Sedai that talent.

[Jenny]

Three more weaves melted into his mind and then disappeared. Under her desk and hidden from view, Mirin's hands clenched with effort. She seemed to be staring intensely at the Ji'alantin, barely blinking, but in reality her view was obscured by spinning webs of Spirit.

With her attention distracted, she heard only every other word of his answer. But she noticed that he did not mention Aikaterine at all, and her lips quirked into a small smile.

"So it has nothing to do with a certain Accepted?"

At the look on his face, she nearly laughed. "No worries, Ravak. The Blue Ajah likes men well enough, as do I. And I believe that it is good for our girls to become familiar with men - not too familiar, mind you, or it might detract from their studies - but enough so that they can choose well when the time comes.

"Speaking of which... I am not familiar with the learning curriculum for Gaidin, so I apologize if these questions seem basic. But perhaps I can help you learn exactly what you're getting yourself into. What do you know about bonding?"

As another weave settled over him, the man seemed to inhale and stiffen. His expression looked a little funny. Mirin leaned forward worriedly. "Are you feeling well, Ravak? Would you like something to drink, perhaps?"

[Craig]

Ravak

So she had remembered. As well hope for a winged sheep that she would have forgotten. She had also caught whatever had betrayed him, hope as he might to maintain a neutral facade. Before he had an opportunity to respond, Mirin continued, and surprised him. So I'm not the only one who thinks initiates need to mingle. Between chores and classes and training, there was precious enough time for a break, yet alone for making acquaintances. That he had done so was luck more than design.

"What do you know about bonding?" Mirin Sedai's clipped accent snapped him back to the present.

He frowned in thought. "Principally, it connects two people together, a channeller and another, a Warder. They can sense each other's feelings, and have some understanding where one another is.

"The Warder gains a new level of resilience, able to sleep and eat and drink less than normal men and women. And they have some way to sense Shadowspawn. A shame that everyone walking in the Light didn't have that particular talent.

"As for the channeller, Asha'man or Aes Sedai, than have some... hold over the Warder?" This he was unclear on. Warders could be compelled to obey orders, but the how and why were questions he possessed no answers for. He itched his chin. "They can also transfer the bond to another Brother or Sister, or release the bond altogether."

There was more, but Rav opted to hold it back. Death. If the Aes Sedai or Asha'man died whilst still bonded, the Warder went mad and died. Not in the same way as male channellers used to, but with the same amount of assurance. Some Gaidin may think that a fair price; the Shienaran thought it a cheap escape from responsibility. Death is lighter than a feather, duty heavier than a mountain.

Conversations from his past emerged in his mind. "I've had conversations with Accepted-" - no, not just Katrie, whatever you think - "-and they all seem unsure about what sort of Warder they will look for, or if they will even look for one. For myself, I know that I wish to meet a Sister whom I share a passion with." Rav thought he caught a slight shift in the Mistress of Novice's eyes, but he wasn't sure. "Not a passion passion-" - well, possibly - "-but a common drive. I like my books, so a Brown, perhaps?"

He straightened in his chair. The growing feeling of disquiet he had was nothing to do with Mirin. Well, not directly. Father never told me how distracting this ability was. He snatched only the last few words that had come from the Aes Sedai's mouth. "No, thank you, Mirin Sedai. I'm just feeling a bit tender." He put a hand over his stomach delicately to help sell the lie.

[Jenny]

He knew more than she expected. She shouldn't have been surprised, given his bookishness and associations with female channelers. Of course he would have found out everything he could about the bond. There was more, of course - the bond held a mystery that only those who were bonded understood - but Mirin did not know much about the details, as she was not interested in forming that sort of partnership. It was a bitter decision because she would have enjoyed companionship. But that life was not for her.

"A Brown? Few of them have Warders," said Mirin. Then she stilled her tongue, keeping the rest of her thoughts to herself. It really was none of her business - she just needed to keep the conversation going while finishing her weaves. Finally, with a grim sense of satisfaction, she tied off the last weave. There. As good as new. Except the man still looked uncomfortable. Her eyes narrowed.

"Is your stomach bothering you? I hope it isn't interfering with your studies. May I offer you Healing?"

[Craig]

Ravak

“A fleeting concern, Mirin Sedai, I can assure you.” He moved his hand away from his stomach. Well, that didn’t quite work. Light lad, you’re trying to play Daes Dae’mar with a Cairhienian. Maybe we’ll find an Aielman to stick you with a spear later on.

Time for a different tact. “Mirin Sedai. Not meaning you precisely, but what does one look for in a Warder? I may only be newly raised to Ji’alantin, but you mentioned that it’s good if we can choose well when the time comes. So what makes a good fit? I’m hoping it’s more than what Gaidin or Gaidar has the best skill with a weapon?”

[Jenny]

Something was bothering the man, but he was clearly unwilling to say why. And why did he keep wrinkling his nose like that?? Mirin wished that her face already had the ageless look. It would help disguise her concern. Did he have something to hide? Her curiosity was piqued, but she could see no way to dig out his secret. She had been freed of her Oaths, of course, so torture wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but freedom didn't mean that she could do whatever she wanted without consequence. It would be foolish. She made a mental note to keep an eye on the man.

The corner of her lips quirked upwards at his question. "If you ask a dozen sisters, you will find a dozen answers. From the way some Greens look at their Warders, it's almost as though they pick the broadest shoulders and the prettiest faces!"

She was glad that he had cleverly deflected the question away from her personal life. Mirin was clearly unbonded, and she had no desire to change that fact, even if the right man - or woman - came along. The Aes Sedai had too many secrets to hide.

Mirin shook away those thoughts and continued. "Jests aside, as you said yourself, a common drive is what usually ties two people together. Perhaps my view is skewed as a member of the Blue Ajah; but from personal observation the happiest pairings are between two people who share a mission, whether it is to fight in battle, to discover hidden knowledge, or to save the world. There have been romantic pairings as well, but love is a fickle beast. It can end... poorly."

"Although it can be transferred or released, the bond is not to be taken lightly. Binding yourself, binding your life... I've heard the experience is more intimate than anyone can expect. You must be brave and trusting to bind yourself to another person like that." Traits that I lack, she thought to herself with some amusement.

She glanced at the candle marking the time and smiled wryly. "I've been told that I talk too much and can be as pedantic as a Brown. I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time."

[Craig]

Ravak

The Shienaran scanned the room openly, even as the Aes Sedai's grey eyes fixed him with a level look. His mind raced to reason out what was going on as his time in this room dwindled. He was like a child with a puzzle, frustrated and turning to turn pieces that wouldn't shift. If the room held any clues, it would not yield them. There was nothing amiss about the dark blue walls nor the windows that overlooked the Gardens. No objects of interest sat in the near-empty bookcases. He had no idea what he was looking for in inanimate objects. It's not violence, yet something wrong all the same.

"...I hope I haven't taken up too much of your time." She smiled, albeit not quite with warmth. Maybe there are things you don't wish to know, especially about Aes Sedai.

Rav rose from the seat somewhat jerkily. "Yes, sorry, of course. I mean, no. I mean," he took a deep breath to calm himself, "this was informative. Thank you, Mirin Sedai." His salute was courteous and not awkward. That was something.

The Shienaran didn't quite wait for her full dismissal before moving into the hallway and taking a few paces out of eyeshot. His left hand went to his neck, then to his nose, pinching it roughly. Light. He shuddered, the distracting smell still caught in his nostrils. If the Mistress of Novices has committed some crime, it would likely be with the knowledge of at least some other Sisters, or Blues, or maybe the Amyrlin or... Rav shook his head as if to dislodge his thoughts. Burn me, don't get involved in Aes Sedai politics. As bad as Daes Dae'mar, if not worse. Steadying his mood, he reached into his pocket for the next letter for delivery. Light, anywhere but here, please...