Outside lessons, being a novice wasn’t all that different from being a Drin. Fiona did chores, ran errands, hopped when Aes Sedai said toad...the list went on. Differences included not knowing how many years she might spend wearing the drab shapeless white gowns she had been given, not being allowed to choose her own course of study -Light, but history was boring- and being constantly surrounded by women whose sole purpose in life seemed to be political advancement. Also incredibly boring.
Once the women in her corridor learned about her background the pandering had begun, and Light, but that was a special hell of its own. Their games had begun almost immediately, and she had had to resist the urge to punch them all in the teeth. What was it about dresses that turned women into vultures? She missed Avram’s dry humor, conversations with Muireen, laughing hysterically with Paks after light’s out...
She had wanted to be able to channel. Against all odds, it turned out she could...and now she wanted to be back in the Yards. Any time it all got to be too much, the irony of her situation would creep up on her and she would begin to laugh. Sooner or later she would become Aes Sedai or they would kick her out. Either way, she would not be there forever, and she could move on to better things.
That didn’t mean she spurned any possible chance to get away from the scheming. Thanks to her training she could run faster and further even than much taller novices, and thus she frequently got sent on errands to all parts of the Tower. On one particular day in the fall, she was sent from the Garden to the Library with a stack of books for an Indigo who was studying there. She delivered them in record time and turned to go, but abruptly a Brown with the jowls and body of a walrus grabbed her shoulderand spun her about.
“You, girl,” the woman said. “I need a message taken to the Keeper of Archives.” She didn’t wait for acknowledgement, but twisted to her desk, jotting a message that seemed to be five times longer than it needed to be on a piece of parchment, her other hand still firmly wrapped around Fiona’s shoulder. Finally the Brown turned back and jammed the paper into the novice’s hand and released her. “Be quick about it, I haven’t all day. He’s in his office, or should be. Tell him I’m waiting for a response.”
Fiona curtsied, resisting the urge to rub at her shoulder, and fled. Climbing stairs took effort, especially nineteen floors of them, but eventually she reached the top. There was a mirror on the wall -no doubt because even Aes Sedai would be winded by that ridiculous climb and would want to be fresh when speaking to their leader- and Fiona took advantage to straighten her curls before walking into the Keepers’ office.
The only person there was a gangly man with heavy brows, frowning at something on the desk he sat at. She had never actually see the Keeper, but there was really only one person the man could be. He didn’t seem to notice her, and she looked about uncertainly for a moment before finally clearing her throat and speaking. “Asha’man Murdock? I was given a message for you.”
Once the women in her corridor learned about her background the pandering had begun, and Light, but that was a special hell of its own. Their games had begun almost immediately, and she had had to resist the urge to punch them all in the teeth. What was it about dresses that turned women into vultures? She missed Avram’s dry humor, conversations with Muireen, laughing hysterically with Paks after light’s out...
She had wanted to be able to channel. Against all odds, it turned out she could...and now she wanted to be back in the Yards. Any time it all got to be too much, the irony of her situation would creep up on her and she would begin to laugh. Sooner or later she would become Aes Sedai or they would kick her out. Either way, she would not be there forever, and she could move on to better things.
That didn’t mean she spurned any possible chance to get away from the scheming. Thanks to her training she could run faster and further even than much taller novices, and thus she frequently got sent on errands to all parts of the Tower. On one particular day in the fall, she was sent from the Garden to the Library with a stack of books for an Indigo who was studying there. She delivered them in record time and turned to go, but abruptly a Brown with the jowls and body of a walrus grabbed her shoulderand spun her about.
“You, girl,” the woman said. “I need a message taken to the Keeper of Archives.” She didn’t wait for acknowledgement, but twisted to her desk, jotting a message that seemed to be five times longer than it needed to be on a piece of parchment, her other hand still firmly wrapped around Fiona’s shoulder. Finally the Brown turned back and jammed the paper into the novice’s hand and released her. “Be quick about it, I haven’t all day. He’s in his office, or should be. Tell him I’m waiting for a response.”
Fiona curtsied, resisting the urge to rub at her shoulder, and fled. Climbing stairs took effort, especially nineteen floors of them, but eventually she reached the top. There was a mirror on the wall -no doubt because even Aes Sedai would be winded by that ridiculous climb and would want to be fresh when speaking to their leader- and Fiona took advantage to straighten her curls before walking into the Keepers’ office.
The only person there was a gangly man with heavy brows, frowning at something on the desk he sat at. She had never actually see the Keeper, but there was really only one person the man could be. He didn’t seem to notice her, and she looked about uncertainly for a moment before finally clearing her throat and speaking. “Asha’man Murdock? I was given a message for you.”