He thought all of those things until the day came when he climbed out of a bowl-shaped divot in the ground, still scratching sand out of his hair, and turned to face a certain cliff high in the Mountains of Mist. He didn’t cry or fall to his knees when he saw Hama Valon spread below him. The Grey Tower rose far above the terraced rooftops of the city. The early morning sun caught on its glass facets, light reflecting in every direction like a beacon.
He didn’t move, or speak, or do anything of particular note. Such action would require presence of mind the Gaidin didn’t possess. All he could do was stand still, chest rising and falling far too rapidly, and stare. Somewhere far below, two children ran and played in the sun while a beautiful women engaged in intrigue too dark to contemplate.
Did she wait for me? In brutal honesty, Dax couldn’t imagine Elia had. He knew her to well to expect such loyalty when he hadn’t so much as said good-bye. But if she did... His chest hurt, but the thought gave the Tairen strength. He gathered himself, scrubbed at his face (he was not crying, the wind had just picked up), and turned his feet toward the nearest likely game trail.
--
Dax’s stride lengthened when he passed the Tower gate, carrying him swiftly to the Tower proper, through the Green Ajah’s courtyard and into the central antechamber. From there he turned his feet to the Indigo quarters. He felt a hand on his shoulder and yanked himself away. “Dax-!” He ignored the call, instead making for the ramp that would spiral upward to take him -eventually- to the Indigo quarters. To Elia’s apartments. Home.
Some distance up those shallow steps he saw a crowd of women approaching, speaking quietly among themselves. Through bright gowns and the shift of colorful fringe he caught a glimpse of a flame-tipped staff, and beyond that, eight stripes looped over slender shoulders. As the Amyrlin’s entourage approached, Dax bowed, his offhand resting on his sword hilt.
To his surprise, the group filtered past, then abruptly stopped, the Amyrlin turning to face him. The Tairen’s eyes traced over delicate embroidery on the hem of a gown that shimmered faintly in lamp light, vaguely wondering that the fine material wasn’t the blue Ninya preferred. His gaze traveled upward slowly, traced over curved hips, a delicately worked belt, and finally up to meet the Aes Sedai’s gaze.
Blue eyes met green and he straightened immediately, shoulders squared and brows drawn together in confusion and shock. This is bad. This is very, very bad. Despite the gabbling in his mind, he managed to push words through his reluctant lips. “Light shine on you….Mother,” he said. “May we speak privately?”