Roomies! (Attn: Austin)

[Craig]

Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin

Sabine sliced off another bite of the evening's meatloaf as she listened to her friends converse with one another. The four novices sat together at the table, two arrayed on one side, with Sabine and Mavin on the other. Mavin pressed herself hard against Sabine's shoulder in an effort to get closer to Yaisu, who sat at the opposite end of the group. Sabine pushed back with her bony limb, and preened inwardly when the Kandori barked a harsh yelp. "One is not a leaning post, Romavin," she chided.

"Light," Mavin scowled, rubbing at her side. "I was just saying that apparently they're going out every day with one or two Drin. Maybe the Mistress will start pushing through more Accepted." She ended in an excited squeak. The Kandori was entirely too excitable in Sabine's opinion, but she was a constant source of enthusiasm.

"Don't be so keen," Yaisu observed. "It's not some given that if you go for your test you will come back as an Accepted. You may not come back at all." The Arafellin shook her head dismissively to the tinkling of bells. Her pragmatism was the only thing that kept Sabine from being the priggish one in the group. "Mirin Sedai will not test any one of us until we are ready, and not a moment sooner."

"Or she will tire of us," Sabine opined forlornly. She was carving another piece of meat off her meal, and failed see the three stares of disapproval aimed at her head. They each knew about the Saldaean's desire to leave the Tower. When they first formed this circle of friends, most of them longed for home, but one by one the desire to become Aes Sedai trumped those concerns. Aside from in the case of Sabine.

"Seonin was raised, yes?" Annora announced. "She's was a damane, so I heard?"

"She was captured during the siege?" Yaisu asked.

"No, before then," Annora replied. "Used to serve their Empress, do you believe?"

"I do not think I know her," Sabine stated. She wished to change the subject away from the siege. Anything but the siege. "Have you heard about the new novice yet?" That drew their attention. Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin was not simply a source of begrudging upset. "I heard Mirin Sedai met with a new girl earlier today, brought in by one of the Accepted. By the Amyrlin's granddaughter."

"Great-great-granddaughter," Mavin squeaked. "Oh, another novice! I can't wait. Maybe she'd like to meet us."

"You may have yourself your new roommate, Sabine." Yaisu suggested. "Maybe you can keep from scaring this one off?"

Sabine's jaw dropped for a moment, before she composed herself. "I did not scare my last roommate off." She drew herself up defensively. "As I understand it, she flung herself at Dax Gaidin, professing her undying love to him." Her tone told just how little she thought of that display. "I know not if it was Dax or someone else who reported her, but Mirin quickly sent her off to the farm. I have not heard a word since."

"I would throw myself at Dax," Mavin beamed. Annora and even Yaisu nodded in approval.

Sabine rolled her eyes. "He is married. And bonded. I do not know what the girl was thinking."

"She was thinking of his abs, I reckon," Annora grinned. "I would do uncouth things to that body, given half a chance." All of the novices started to laugh at that, even Sabine.

Thoughts of Dax Gaidin followed Sabine through into the evening. She understood the attraction of the muscular Tairen on an intellectual level, but never anything beyond that. If she ever did become an Aes Sedai, Sabine wished for someone like Dax as a Warder. He seemed like the sort of man who could handle a group of Darkfriends by himself, but the day for picking up Warders was many years off. Thoughts of Dax turned to thoughts of Tarrin, someone with whom she could fawn over. She touched the small velvet pouch nestled between her knife and her dress, feeling the smooth curved form of her wedding ring inside. She wondered how he was doing without her. She wondered if he understood - would ever understand - the reasons for her leaving. Sabine missed him. It was impossible not to, but at the same time she knew she was better without him. At least for now.

She pressed open the door to her room and pushed the door closed with the back of her heel. Sabine dropped a couple of books thoughtlessly off at the end of her bed, then knelt beside it to pull out a long trunk from underneath. This contained near to everything the Saldaean possessed, excluding A'vrom and the few bits and pieces in his saddlebags. Unbuckling the clasps, Sabine produced a cittern from the top.

Saldaean noblewomen were taught many skills and crafts. Sabine could play the cittern, recite poetry, engage in Daes Dae'mar, regale the histories of various nations, and still have the time to place a dagger where it would incapacitate a foe. She enjoyed the first two enough that she continued on with them whilst at the Tower. After pulling free a few more possessions from the trunk, Sabine folding her legs beneath her on the bed and started to play The First Rose of Summer. She hummed the words instead of singing. She had a pleasant enough singing voice, but the other novices liked any excuse to complain.

It was into that scene, with Sabine sat on her bed playing the cittern, that the door to her room opened. There had been a knocking, but the Saldaean did not hear it over the sounds of the music being played. Sabine halted at the end of the bar, looking at the novice who so timidly poked her head into the room. She tilted her head at the newcomer. "It is rude to enter a room without knocking first. Can I help you?"

[Austin]

The moment the dark-haired girl spoke in the cut-glass accent of a foreign aristocrat, Casey prickled up with rage.

This was not what she had expected when Mirin Sedai had assigned her to room with another novice. Not that she objected to the spacious room with its window looking out over the gardens, the neatly made beds with their wooden frames, the rug with the black-and-white symbol of the Tower—that was nothing but luxury to Casey, who had slept in many ditches on the way here. But this highborn girl sitting cross-legged on the bed with her instrument? With those delicate features? Wearing these stupid novice whites as if they were the finest silks? No. This would not do. Not at all.

Back home, the gap between them would have been a million miles wide. They would never have roomed together. Casey would have been slapped for even speaking to her. In fact, packs of young sons of rich families used to prowl the dockside slums looking for local girls, whom they considered nothing but whores. They would offer money, and if their money was refused, take what they wanted anyway. Why not? A common girl couldn’t even bring a noble before the magistrates, no matter what he did to her.

Last year one of those sons had taken an interest in Stacia, who had been just turning thirteen, pretty and shy. And the memory still heated Casey up with seething hatred.

All of which led Casey to the conclusion that she should murder this girl while she still could. Maybe with that gilded and bejewelled dagger that rested on top of a diary at the girl’s feet.

You should cut her up a little bit. Her imaginary Rylan kicked back on the other bed, boots propped up, examining her fingernails. Maybe scar her face. That would show her who’s in charge.

No. That would only get her booted out of the Tower or worse. Casey’s face had become so blank, she could feel its stiffness as she thought hard.

Maybe this was a tradition in the Grey Tower—assigning a lowborn servant to a highborn girl. Maybe Casey was supposed to fetch and carry for her, wash her clothes and polish her shoes, bring her books, copy her letters. A fine lady couldn’t be expected to do her own laundry, after all.

But this girl seemed to have managed just fine by herself so far. Two or three white silk scarves hung down from the sides of her table mirror; a pair of white velvet gloves sat on the washstand table along with a number of long white ribbons, maybe for tying into her hair. Everything else was immaculate.

So maybe this girl really didn’t need a servant. In fact, maybe Casey didn’t have the first clue who this girl really was.

Her rage had cooled. Instead of lunging for the dagger, Casey played dumb. “Gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I did knock, but maybe you didn’t hear it while you were playing that beautiful music. What is that instrument? I don’t really know anything about music, but it sounds awful nice.” She tested out her biggest smile on the girl. “Oh! I almost forgot. I’m Casey. I’m brand new here and Mirin Sedai told me I’m going to be rooming here with you. I’m so excited. It’s like a sleepover, right? I bet we’ll be best friends.” She dropped her new dresses on the end of her own bed. “I really don’t know anything about the Tower, so like, am I here to be your maid? I can sweep and clean pretty good, I guess. But I’m not so good with stitching stuff up. I’d sure make an awful mess of your pretty gloves.”

[Craig]

The Lady Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin

The novice stared through the doorway for a number of long seconds, face as blank as her mind clearly was. Sabine enlisted her coolest look, orbs of jet searing into the short and rotund girl's forehead. Did she have no manners, gawking so flatly, not to mention letting the heat out of the room. In a moment, Sabine was going to go for her sheathed dagger and watch the little vagabond jump.

As if the thought had spurred her, the girl began to babble. It was tiresome at first, and Sabine failed to hold back a mental commentary. If you were sorry, you would not be gapping like an idiot. Yes, of course it was beautiful music, some of us were educated. How can you not recognise a cittern? It was then that the girl got onto the point. "I'm Casey," the brunette beamed. "I'm brand new here and Mirin Sedai told me I'm going to be rooming here with you."

Oh. The Saldaean stole a glance of the other side of her room. That was where her former roommate had been. She too was an idiot, but at least she was not a babbling one. This could get very burdensome, very quickly. Ink-black eyes slid back to Casey, the verbal onslaught still in full swing. Soon she was in the door, dresses dropped on the edge of the other bed. This is the new novice? What did I do to earn Mirin Sedai's displeasure. The Creator shelter me, I hope she does not think I will mentor the girl.

When silence finally - blissfully - descended on the room, Sabine placed the cittern aside, moved the books of poetry out of the way, and stood up from the bed at a calm and collected pace. Sabine looked down, lips pursing together. The Saldaean was not sure what had riled her so, but it was unfair to take it out on Casey. She was new here, with no concept of what being a novice meant. Maybe with no idea that Sabine herself was a novice. There was an opportunity here to make something of Casey, just so long as she understood her place. And is charity not a virtue one should strive to have? Just as long as that did not extend to borrowing her riding gloves.

"Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin," she said by way of introduction. Would the Tairen know of Saldaean noble houses? Probably not. "The Lady Sabine Masin," she emphasised. That would garner the correct level of respect from the girl. "Casey, yes? Well Casey, no, you are not here to be my maid." Oh, Sabine would have loved to have had a maid. The only issue would be that the instant anyone else heard, she would be straight to the Mistress of Novices' office without her feet touching the floor. "But if you wish to keep our rooms clean, I would appreciate that." The Saldaean nodded as if it had been agreed upon. "As for the rest, I would be appreciative if you can please leave what is mine alone. And I shall do likewise." Not that anything a commoner had would interest her.

Well, the rules of the house had been laid down, and Sabine hoped for agreement. If Casey opted to be light-fingered instead, she would be punished both by herself and Mirin. "Casey, you have a second name I take it?" She did, unsurprisingly. "Why are you here? Did you come willingly to the Tower?" Maybe she could find someone else who agreed with her that this place was a prison.

[Austin]

The girl stood up. And up. She was unnecessarily tall—maybe five inches taller than Casey, even barefoot. And that little lip purse was so infuriating it could have started a full-scale war.

Lady Sabine ni Hayadan t’Masin. Seven hells. No wonder there had been a spare bed here. Sabine’s previous roommate must have thrown herself from this third-floor window.

Sabine clearly had no shame about taking advantage of the gulf between them, because her tone as she told Casey not to touch her belongings was nothing short of autocratic. Casey fought to maintain her fixed smile. Apparently there was one rule for fancy ladies, who got to keep all their ribbons and gloves and jewelled daggers when they joined the Tower, and another rule for servant girls, who had to give up everything they owned.

“I’m Casey Frey, my lady,” Casey said in her brightest voice. “Um, your ladyship. Your fancyness? Forgive me, I just don’t even know how to address such a highborn lady. My mistress never had visitors so fine. I’m sure she’d make me get out the good silverware for you and everything.”

Sabine did not seem interested in the good silverware. "Why are you here? Did you come willingly to the Tower?"

As if. “Oh, my mistress sent me here. I’m a servant, you see. Not the fancy type who’d serve you back in House… uh… House Sabine. My mistress says I’m too clumsy to handle her fine crystal stuff. She says I’m only good for sweeping and cleaning. Sometimes she puts me to work mucking out the stables. But I can pour tea, I guess. And I know my letters, sort of.” Casey furrowed her brow right there, as if she wasn’t too confident. “Anyway, she got tired of me, so she sent me here and if I couldn’t become a novice, I was to work as a servant in the kitchens. Gosh, it’s thrilling here, isn’t it? Mirin Sedai said I could channel. Imagine that—me, an Aes Sedai some day! It’s just like a story. How long have you been here, your fancyship? I’m sure you have lots of stuff to teach me. I hope we’re in all the same classes. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? I’m so glad we’re becoming friends.”

[Craig]

The Lady Just Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin

A servant? This... this... uncultured clay-brained mudmucker? What sort of mistress had such an air-headed, infantile, preening sop of a girl for a servant? Sabine wanted to strangle Casey. She wanted to stab Mirin! What sort of penance is this? What in the Creator's good graces have I done?

Sabine dropped back onto her bed, feeling a touch numb inside. This was happening. This was really happening. First trapped in the Grey Tower against her will, now trapped with this... waste of air and water. She reached back for her knife and gripped the sheath tightly. Maybe I can just chance it on A'vrom. Even if I can get into the city, maybe I can hide somewhere for a bit until... No, the Grey Tower were fastidious when it came to rounding up runaways. A foolhardy escape attempt now would just hand her in Mirin's lap. Pig's swill...

She looked back up at Casey, smiling simpleton Casey, with her pretty green eyes the only highlight of her plain face. I imagine there was a carnival celebrating her birth, because her mother had a daughter instead of a lamb. Sabine squeezed shut her eyes and deflated inside.

Five... She breathed in. Four... And out. Three... And in. Two... And out. One... And in.

The Saldaean's eyes popped open. The Tairen was still there, and looking a mite concerned. Well, this was no waking nightmare, it was actually happening.

"Please, just call me Sabine." There was a little too much pleading in that, but the girl drained the life from the room. "No need for any Lady Masins," she corrected, "nor your... fancyships?" Did they actually say such tripe down in Tear? A blessing I was born in the north. "Maybe you can just pretend I am not a lady, as to avoid any... embarrassments." Principally on Sabine's part. Her father would never have kept such a girl on the estates. For truth, she would not have had the girl serving in her husband's estate. It was a waste attempting to educate some people when the gulf to bridge was so wide.

"I have been... stuck at the Grey Tower for four and a half years," Sabine replied politely. She thought it was polite. One could not be blamed for sounding a touch terse under these conditions. "I came along with a friend, who looked to be tested. She was unsuccessful, and to my... displeasure, Mirin saw that I could be taught. Thus here I am."

Sabine slid back onto her bed, legs curling up under her, as she lifted her cittern. Maybe that would satisfy the girl's curiosity and she could go back to much more worthwhile endeavours.

[Austin]

Sabine sat on the bed. And reached for the dagger.

Whoops, Rylan said, still admiring her fingernails. Didn’t see that coming, did you?

Adrenaline hit in a massive rush. Casey had let herself move too far from the door for a quick escape. If this girl with her greater height and reach drew that ridiculous jewelled dagger on her, this was only going to end one way. Casey should not have put those stupid dresses down. At least the fabric would have tangled up the knife and provided some meagre protection against slashes. Now empty-handed, she had only one tactic: go in hard before Sabine could draw the dagger from its sheath.

Her next move flashed through her imagination in seconds. Go in with a roundhouse kick to the face that would flatten Sabine on the bed. Then drop with a knee in her stomach and lunge for the dagger, assuming it wasn’t already buried in her own throat. And then it would be kill or die. Close quarters, no mercy. Just like that last fight against Rylan.

Sabine’s grip tightened, and Casey shifted her weight a fraction, heart racing, ready to spring.

Then the girl shut her eyes—for long seconds. It seemed Casey was wearing on Lady Sabine ni Something t’Something’s patience. That made Casey almost smile.

Fine. Apparently she wasn’t getting stabbed today after all. Casey let go a slow breath and relaxed, pricklingly aware that Sabine still held the dagger.

It intrigued her that the world’s most superior girl was no more eager to be here than Casey was. Casey knew exactly what it felt like to pass that test unexpectedly—the stutter of panic, the swoop in her stomach, the drop in her heart as her future wrenched itself out of her own hands.

Maybe this girl with her dagger and her dreams of escape was more than just a spoilt brat. After all, Sabine was a northerner. She had probably grown up trudging through snow to strangle ice wolves with her bare hands.

Maybe they had more in common than Casey thought.

Maybe they needed each other.

Letting the mask drop would be an extreme risk. And right now, even though she had been cursed with a sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued roommate, she was willing to bet Sabine was so certain she was a milksop that Sabine would ignore her from now on. On the other hand, staging a one-person assault on the Tower was also something of a risk. It was just a matter of which blade she wanted at her throat.

Well. Northern steel it was.

Casey shut the door with a click and leaned against it, arms folded, just the way Rylan used to. Her expression was closed, her tone crisp. “Let’s cut to the point, your fancyship. I’m no more a servant than you are. You want out? So do I. And I’m willing to keep your secrets if you’ll keep mine.”

[Craig]

Sabine

Sabine chose not to raise her gaze for the door closing; it was all the same if Casey was on one side of the entrance or the other. But when the girl spoke in a completely different tone from the simpering fool she had been a moment thence, Sabine took notice.

“Let’s cut to the point, your fancyship." Casey leaned all too casually against the shut door, arms crossed in front of her chest. "I’m no more a servant than you are. You want out? So do I. And I’m willing to keep your secrets if you’ll keep mine.”

If Sabine was shocked by the revelation, she hid it well. No-one could be that stupid, she chided herself. The ruse would have been plainly obvious if only she had been paying attention. She had not gone through several years of education to be outplayed so easily in the Great Game by a Tairen. If she was even Tairen; the accent could be a falsehood too.

The cittern was lowered, the dagger taken up in its place. "Not your fancyship," Sabine coolly corrected yet again. "Just Sabine. And what is your name? Is it actually Casey? And why are you here at the Tower, if not to become a novice? What secrets are you hiding?" The Saldaean may be 'just' Sabine, wearing an uncomfortable dress on a lumpy bed, but she was as calm and collected as a queen on her gilded throne. "And what secrets? My desire to leave is well known."

[Austin]

Once again, the girl reached for her dagger. Casey didn’t bother tensing this time. Having her back to the door gave her confidence. And this Sabine girl didn’t seem the type to stab her unprovoked.

“Oh, no, your fanciness. If you introduce yourself as Lady Fancypants, that’s what you get. I’ll save the first names for somebody who isn’t so keen on ranks and titles.” Casey peeled herself off the door where she’d been leaning and crossed to pick up the stack of folded dresses on her bed. It wasn’t entirely obvious to her why she had such a big chest of drawers if all she was ever allowed to wear was novice whites, but she tucked the stack into one end of one drawer anyway. “You can call me whatever you want. Casey is as good a name as any. And my business here is private, save that it ends with me leaving the Tower. Just like you.”

She headed to the washstand next, dangerously close to Sabine. Her spine prickled. But she didn’t even look at the jewelled dagger. She just washed her hands, then splashed her face with cool water, as if nobody ever got stabbed. “It was counterproductive to let everyone know you want to leave. A known escape risk will be more closely watched. You could have been out of here long ago if you’d kept your head down and your tongue still. But you have a little too much pride for that, don’t you. Lady Fancypants can’t stand to be ignored. Maybe that’s why you’ve been cooling your heels here for four and a half years.” She dried off with a soft towel, resisting the urge to use Sabine’s white gloves instead just to annoy her. “That’s not going to cut it any more. I have a job to do and I don’t have much time. I assume you assessed the perimeter security? What’s your progress on that? Do you have a physical map or do you keep it all in your head?”

Time to find out what this Sabine was really capable of.

[Craig]

Sabine

Sabine's hands quivered on her dagger, the thinnest sliver of steel showing as the Saldaean considered whether this 'Casey' was worth the fight. Once steel was bared, the challenge had to be answered, and if answered, fought until there was a victor. She trusted in her own skill with blade and fist, but 'Casey' was an unknown. She had successfully lied her way into the Tower, unless this 'Casey' was an invention just for her. That seemed unlikely. How many lies have you told? Does Mirin Sedai know? The Blue sister would make quick work of any girl looking to break the rules.

Sabine knew that well.

Her knuckles were turning bone-white as she gripped the hilt, fury sitting openly on her features. It was one thing to have to go each and every day without the respect she was due, at least from her fellow novices, but to have her titles thrown in her face was another. Saidar flowed into Sabine with a familiar ease. Everything about the room popped into a clearer focus, but the Saldaean's attentions were solely on 'Casey'. 'Casey', she sneered. What even is her name? At least I have a name!

The Saldaean leapt up from the bed with surprising athleticism, despite the restrictive novice dress. More aware of the world with the One Power flowing through her, Sabine caught 'Casey' by the shoulders, and pulled the girl backwards and down. Mid-fall they twisted, 'Casey' seizing the wrist with which Sabine held her sheathed blade. With a dual cry of pain, they landed on their sides and immediately the struggle was on.

"My name is Sabine ni Hayadaaaah!" The last was a squeal of pain as breath left her, 'Casey's' knee striking squarely on her stomach. Sabine fumbled at the hilt of her dagger, trying to shake the sheath loose, but the other girl was on top of her on the instant. One of the Tairen's legs seemed to pin both of hers, the other rested across Sabine's left forearm, keeping her from using all but one of her limbs. Sabine punched out in a yell of frustration with the dagger. The bejewelled pommel connected with 'Casey's' cheek, but that was as far as she got. Her knife hilt left her grip, and then her free arm was pinned to the ground.

It had all happened within a few seconds, from initial lunge to being paralysed underneath the Tairen. 'Casey' held the dagger in her free hand, amusement scoring her features. "How?" was all the Saldaean could manage, as her grasp on saidar trickled away.

[Austin]

Rylan cracked up laughing.

During that sudden burst of violence, Rylan hadn’t moved an inch from the far bed. Now she had to grab a pillow and put it over her own face to muffle the laughter that shook her shoulders. Tell me again about how she doesn’t seem the type to stab you unprovoked.

Blood and ashes. Casey gasped for breath, her dark curls escaping their knot to tumble into her eyes, her cheekbone aching where the dagger hilt had struck her. Her adrenaline still ran hot. If Sabine had managed to unsheath the dagger, that blade could have plunged right between her ribs. Instead she was pinning Sabine under her greater weight, the dagger now in her grip.

Casey bit down on the sheath to steady it and yanked the dagger clear, then spat out the sheath and laid the bare blade against Sabine’s throat. Their eyes locked. Sabine’s were very dark.

“If you ever try that again, I will cut your highborn throat.” That came out very soft. It would be difficult to explain to Mirin Sedai why her roommate was now a fresh corpse, but it was always better to be alive than dead. Casey leaned down, her anger heating. “I’m taking this ridiculous overjewelled dagger. You can have it back when—”

Sabine struck.

She slammed her forehead into Casey’s face with the savagery of any dock fishergirl back in Tear. Lights exploded in Casey’s head. Casey yelped. Her hand slipped and she nearly cut Sabine’s throat by accident—the dagger scored a shallow slash that came perilously near to an artery. Sabine almost twisted out from under Casey’s pinning weight before Casey cracked the hilt of the dagger across Sabine’s jaw. Hard. Hard enough to daze anybody. Casey took that moment of breathing space to get a better grip. The taste of salt lingered on her tongue where she had cut her lip.

“As I was saying”—Casey spoke through her teeth—“you can have it back when we get out of here. If you come with me.” The tip of the dagger now rested just beneath Sabine’s eye, pressing very gently into the delicate skin there. If Sabine tried to move now, she was taking her life—and her eyesight—in her hands. “Listen closely. You’ve wasted the last four and a half years prancing around like a pretty princess, accomplishing nothing but drawing attention to yourself. Amateur hour is now over. I will be in and out of this Tower in a matter of weeks, maybe even days. So if you only pretend to want to leave because it strokes your ego, fine. But if there’s anything outside this stupid Tower that’s important to you, I am your exit strategy. And your dagger will be waiting for you outside.”