The Grey Tower

“May I ask what your next penance will be?” As Tris went on, Jaryd was once again reminded strongly of Zeen, though the soldier’s eyes were brown, not gray, and his was a different flavor of arrogance. Perhaps what I sense really is a kinship between nobility. The air of privilege, perhaps. That was an odd thought. Did Asha’man gain the same feeling? That was a thought for a rainy day of self-observation, really.

“The next time you are brought to me for anything resembling what brought you here today, you will spend a month as Asha’man Taesh’s manservant,” Jaryd said, his tone overtly cheerful and his mouth stretching into a positively evil grin. “Or someone like him. I can think of a dozen right now that would suit my purpose.” That idea he had gleaned from Jhanic’s notes. He had not had much opportunity to learn much about the Aiel, but he knew enough to be fascinated by their honor system.

Jaryd’s eyebrows went up at the last bit of the soldier’s commentary. It was nearly...flirtatious. Well then.... He settled back into his chair, elbows on the armrests, fingers steepled in front of his chest, his dark face benign, though beneath the surface curiosity continued to roil. “Which part of the Red Ajah would you like to hear most of?” He asked. “The part where we spend most of our lives reading lots of books and working to improve ourselves, the part where we receive little respect or recognition for the hard work we do in service to the Light, or the part where our messy lives could end,” he snapped his fingers sharply, “without a moment of warning?”

His eyes crinkled. “I am happy to answer your questions,” he concluded. “You won’t find any books on the subject in the Library just yet.”

Tristram just laughed. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t sure whether or not the Master of Soldiers was being serious, but the thought of him acting as an Asha’man’s manservant was a hilarious one. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what such a thing involved, but more the fact that it opened up many opportunities for him.

“I think,” he said after a moment, “that that would probably be more of a punishment for them than me. Having to deal with their socks not being ironed, their shirts wrinkled, me watching over them whilst they sleep. Accidentally spilling their tea which will, of course, be absolutely foul, all over their precious papers…” He grinned, shaking his head. “I’m afraid I know nothing about being a manservant, and I’m an extremely slow learner when it comes to things I’m not interested in. I’m sure you don’t want one of your Asha’man to commit murder, but I have a feeling that that’s what will happen if you make me their manservant.”

On the other subject, he hadn’t actually thought much about each individual Ajah, about which he was suited to –that was why he was here - but he wanted to know as much as he could, even if it was things he didn’t want to hear. The decision would probably be one of the most important in his life, and there would be no going back once he made it. He straightened a little in his chair, looking back at Jaryd, his expression, for once, serious.

“And I’d like to hear everything that you have to tell me. The good, the bad... Even if,” and he allowed himself a small smile, “what I hear makes me want to run away screaming.” He paused. “I already know how fickle life is. I lost two of my children and my wife without warning. I don’t think losing my own would daunt me or scare me away.”

Sometimes, he thought, he’d actually welcome it.