The Grey Tower

Fiona turned to look over her shoulder at the ship that had carried her from Andor to Illian.

The luck that had spirited her away from the Trakand estate without discovery had held through the long ride to Whitebridge, granting her clear skies and plentiful game to eat along the way. Once across the famous bridge and in the city proper it had been a surprisingly simple matter to find a ship. The captain of the Speedy Dove had been deep in his cups when she walked into the tavern’s common room, and only too happy to grant passage to a pretty thing like herself- at a discount, because she reminded him of his daughter. When she arrived at the docks the next morning and saw the line of people waiting for a chance of passage south, it occurred to her how very fortuitous that meeting had been.

It had not taken the crew long to determine that the “merchant’s daughter” they carried was more than she claimed, although thankfully nothing had shaken their belief she intended to join the Great Hunt. She couldn’t imagine what she had done to give her true station away. She had emulated her fellow passengers to the best of her abilities, after all, although some of the things they said made her blush. No matter- although the sailors’ formality annoyed her, at least they had not bothered her any further, and one of them had even produced a warmer blanket for her to use.

Now she stood with both feet planted on ground in a nation she had only heard stories about, further from home than she had ever been. The people and faces that surrounded her seemed distant and alien- bare upper lips, broad-brimmed hats, and fanciful weaponry filled the streets. She felt more alone, standing with her bag clutched against her pale blue skirts, than she had since she left home. I have money and I have my wits, she thought impatiently, scanning the crowd, and if those fail, I have my bow. She let go of her bag to reach behind her to the slender length of wood strapped to her back.

The stream of pedestrian traffic seemed to move in the same general direction. After a few more minutes of simply watching, Fiona tucked an unruly curl behind her ear -she really had to find time to tame the mess that the river air had made of her hair- and fell into step with them. She made easy conversation with those around her as they walked, learning something of their pasts and a lot more about their hopes for the future. She had no intention of actually becoming a Hunter, but the common thread of wanting to do something more resonated with her.

Eventually the winding streets opened into a huge square. Fiona’s breath caught as she surveyed the splendor before her, her feet growing roots as she took it all in. Facing each other across the pavement stood two great buildings -the King’s Palace and the Great Hall of the Council, Synthia had told her- and marching between to either side were white columns, taller and wider than any Fiona had yet seen. A shifting sea of vibrant colors, shining metal, and glittering jewelry covered the space those features surrounded. People from every nationality and every walk of life had gathered there, ignoring their differences in the face of a common task. Noble rubbed shoulders with farmers, warriors with gilded weapons spoke comfortably to artisans and merchants.

“Hey, get out of the way,” a male voice said, shoving roughly past her. The Andoran glanced around her uncertainly, suddenly desperate for a comforting touch or a kind word. No such opportunity presented itself, and the faces around her suddenly felt hostile. Feeling oddly light-headed, the archer worked her way through the crowd to stand near one of the massive pillars, facing the King’s Palace. At least there no one could approach her from behind. She focused on her breathing. Slow breath in, slow breath out. Imagine emptiness… Gradually her odd panic subsided, and she dropped her bag to the ground at her feet, relaxing as the weight fell from her shoulders.

Blue eyes alive with curiosity once more, the young woman looked around. Her gaze alighted on a woman with the distinctive look of Saldaea. She seemed both younger and more self-assured than Fiona, her dark eyes surveying the crowd dispassionately. That gaze turned to Fiona, and the Andoran smiled warmly in return. “Light shine on you,” she said in a light tone. “I am Fiona. Are you here to join the Hunt?”

Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin, third child and eldest daughter of Makari t'Bashere Hayadan, sat in the corner of the Silver Dolphin's common room, observing and judging the other patrons of the inn. Slender fingers ran up and down the stem of the glass set before her, still mostly filled with red wine. It was a little too sweet for her liking, but it would suffice. Since leaving Saldaea, there had been too much subsisting on what she could find in backwater villages. At least it didn't taste of rotting fruit.

Sabine coolly inspected the other patrons of the Silver Dolphin. They were not her peers. No matter what angle an observer stood in, she would stand above and apart from them. Her dress was as dark as ink, intentionally matching her hair and eyes. Lace frills set around her high neckline and wrists softened the austere look, but only by a small margin. Her eyes held an intensity that made most rethink speaking to her, as did the long dagger by her waist. Even Illianers were aware that Saldaean women knew how to handle steel. Laying out an appropriate amount of coin for the wine, the noblewoman rose graciously to her feet. Her look stayed fixed upon the tavern's door as she crossed the room, unwilling to run the risk of meeting eyes with one of these wretches. She made her way out of doors, and took a now familiar journey through the city streets.

The Great Square of Tammaz stood by one of the many canals in the grand city of Illian. It was hard to miss, flanked on either side by the near identical King's Palace and Great Hall of the Council, and surrounded by a colonnade of pillars. Sabine did not look up at the olive branches that wreathed the top of each pillar, nor did she spend any thought as to their meaning. But it was to one of the pillars she took up her vigil, peering out into the sea of revelers and foreigners, Hunters and locals who jostled and crammed in amongst one another. For three days since taking the oath of a Hunter of the Horn and receiving the blessing from the King, the Saldaean had been scouting and surveying. It was not uncommon for Hunters to travel in groups of two or three, and she was meticulously on the lookout for suitable travelling companions. Hopes had dwindled on the promise of finding other Saldaean ladies, or even suitably-born Saldaeans, especially amongst the Hunters. At the very least, she was now wishing for any presentable travelling companion. As a noble, she would have preferred a lady-in-waiting; as a Hunter, anyone else with proficiency in a weapon would make do. It was disagreeable to make do. A few more days without success and she would become desperate enough to hire ruffians to escort her onward. Sabine repressed a scowl. If she held any stock in luck, she would consider that her's had run out. Frustration made her pace from one column towards another, although she doubted the distance would have any effect on the quality of the Square's pedestrians.

Sabine's sight fell upon another woman who had her back pressed against one of the columns, looking very much like she wished the marble would swallow her whole. The other woman was short, only a little more than five feet, with pale milky skin and the cheekbones to rival her own. Her blue dress marked her clearly from Andor; those fashions had not caught on in Illian yet. And she wasn't common stock, from the jewelry tastefully placed around her neck. Alluring wide blue eyes met Sabine's ink black, and a warm smile passed over delicate lips. "Light shine on you. I am Fiona. Are you here to join the Hunt?"

The Saldaean took in Fiona, with a longbow slung across her back, and a bag gripped in two hands. The weapon did not look ornate or ornamental; the older woman would likely be accomplished with it, if she was here for the Hunt. But from the smell of salt spray, she was freshly off a boat from somewhere. "Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin." Sabine inclined her head slightly, only enough to be respectful. "I am afraid that you are too late to join the Hunt. If that had been your intention. One would have had to be here three days ago to take the oath and receive the blessing." She paused a moment to consider. A lady-in-waiting or a peer with a weapon. "Are you new to the city? I can suggest lodgings, if you are not meeting anyone?"

"Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin." Fiona could not hide her surprise. Her new acquaintance was not only younger than she, but married....and of significant standing in the upper echelons of Saldaean nobility. The young Andoran's mind ranged back, remembering what her mother and Synthia had taught her about foreign politics. When had a Masin and a Hayadan wed? Surely that would have been discussed at some point? Apparently not. Sabine had moved on, explaining that the Hunt had already been called. The captain of the Speedy Dove had hinted it might be so, but Fiona made a disappointed noise anyway. Seeking an object that may or may not even exist did not appeal to her in the slightest, but the tales made the call for the Great Hunt seem a wondrous thing.

"Are you new to the city? I can suggest lodgings, if you are not meeting anyone?" The blonde girl blinked at that, realizing as Sabine spoke that she had not even considered where she would stay that night. Illian overflowed with people from every nation- surely every establishment that offered housing would be occupied. How exactly did one find a place to sleep in such circumstances? Did they sleep on the streets? She was thankful that Sabine's offer solved that problem.

"I would be happy to take you up on that offer," she said carefully, meeting the other girl's eyes. Momentary wisdom reared its head, and it occurred to Fiona that she had no proof that Sabine was what she said. Surely someone so young could not be a thief? No. It was not Sabine's youth that made Fiona so certain she could trust her new friend. It was the natural way the Saldaean held herself, the manner with which her eyes scanned the crowd, and a certain note in her voice that resonated as Lady Madene's had. As mine should, she thought, remembering Synthia's lectures. As if on cue, Sabine peremptorily motioned for her to follow, and started walking.

Amused, Fiona gathered her pack and stepped quickly to join the younger woman, matching Sabine step for step. "I am from Andor," she admitted, rubbing at her nose with slender fingers, "my family lives east of Whitebridge. I did not wish to join the Hunt myself, but I had hoped to witness the pledge." She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "What I have seen so far of Illian has made the journey well worth it regardless. I hope someday to see all of the major cities, and visit all three of the Towers."

She fell silent just long enough for them to navigate around a large crowd of men who stank of beer. "What about you? I assume you are a Hunter, since you knew when the pledge occurred. Why? Do you have plans for where to look?"

Sabine worked at the muscles in her right hand as she led the shorter woman back through the city. Tension had worked their way into her body each day, and each night she took a hot bath simply for the pleasure of working the knots out, if for no other reason.

The Trakand had a much clearer plan for her life than the Saldaean, even if it was both ambitious and foolhardy. Was the Black Tower any more than an unorganised rabble of male channellers? At least the White and Grey Towers had a semblance of order about them, the latter maybe more than the former. It was only mere coincidence that Fiona's plans aligned with Sabine's. She had chosen the city of Hama Valon as her first destination as a Hunter of the Horn. Both the Grey and White Towers had to hold a repository of knowledge. That no-one had already stumbled upon the Horn of Valere clearly indicated that the answers to its location would need to be researched. Some farmer would have as much chance of calling back the heroes of the Wheel before any roaming Hunter did.

The black-haired noblewoman nodded her head curtly in response to Fiona's question. "Yes, I am a Hunter. I wish to put my talents to my own use, and not find myself beholden to anyone. A Hunter has that freedom." She peered imperiously at the crowds around them. "As for my destination, I would rather wait until we were in private to discuss that." As a group, Hunters were not a trustworthy sort. Nor were commoners. They would do or use anything to their advantage to raise themselves above their appointed station.

As they crossed a bridge over one of the Illian's many canals, Sabine watched her newfound accomplice from the corner of her eye. Trakand was one of the noble houses of Andor, with a number of holders of the Lion Throne to their acclaim. Was this Trakand positioned near or far from the throne? Whitebridge was a place Sabine was aware of, but it was not Camelyn. And Fiona's dress and jewelry spoke of wealth, but that was different from status.

"What business finds you in Illian, Fiona Trakand? You are far from Whitebridge, and unaccompanied besides."

The petite Andoran mulled over Sabine's words as the dark-haired Saldaean led them through the city. I wish to put my talents to my own use, she had said. That had resonated with Fiona, a clear reminder of what had drawn her away from the predictable safety of her family's estates. Her companion had also mentioned something about not wishing to be beholden to others.... Fiona's fingers tightened around her pack, and her fair brows drew together. She would find a way to accomplish those goals without seeking the Horn. There had to be a way to become something more than just another lady in a ballroom. There had to be!

"What business finds you in Illian, Fiona Trakand? You are far from Whitebridge, and unaccompanied besides."

Fiona jumped at the question, a blush of embarrassment seeping up creamy cheeks as she looks sidelong at Sabine. How was it that someone younger than she could make her feel so much like a child? "If I had sought companionship on my journey, I would not have departed at all," she said after a pause, her free hand toying with the messy curls that lay over her shoulder. The humid air really was making a mess of them. "I left my home rather abruptly." She saw the incredulous look the darker woman gave her, and sighed, realizing she would have to elaborate.

"My parents spoke frequently of freedom, justice, compassion... the traits that transform a person from merely having power, to truly being noble." Her fingers froze in her hair, remembering Lord Loran's voice as he spoke to her about the importance of having regular times in which their people could bring them matters for judgment. "And yet they felt it appropriate and right to arrange for my marriage while I was still an infant in arms, to strengthen my mother's ties to-" She cut herself off, glancing around, only then realizing that bitterness edged her tone. She continued as if she had completed the sentence. "If they had told me, perhaps it wouldn't have been as awful, but I found out on my own. The boy in question is not so bad, but he is just that: a boy, and not one of my choosing."

She met Sabine's eyes. "I refuse to be bought or sold like a cow or a length of fine fabric. I left that night and boarded the first boat I found in Whitebridge. It just happened to be coming this direction, so I decided to stick around and see what the fuss was about."

Her words had carried them to the door of a place that looked considerably more classy than the tavern in Whitebridge. Sabine led them inside, and Fiona followed, looking around curiously. She and Sabine exchanged a few words with the innkeeper, and then Fiona dug in her purse to place coins in the man's chubby hand. The two of them went upstairs, then, and Fiona happily slung her pack onto the small bed in the room she had rented.

Then she turned back, her face thoughtful. "You wish to travel to seek the Horn, and I wish to travel to see the world. Would you care for a companion?"

Sabine listened with heartfelt interest at Fiona's tale of her flight from Whitebridge to Illian. It seemed like they had both been instilled with some of the same education, although the Saldaean assumed that hers had been the more rigorous. Her marriage to Tarrin Masin had not been arranged shortly after her birth. Power and alliances moved and shifted, even in the Borderlands. Very few people engaged in the Great Game in the North, and only those very talented at the Game were aware of how far and deep it spread. Someone in her family had the foresight not to barter over her or her sisters' freedoms so soon. Was this a fault of Andor, or a fault of Fiona's parents?

She was focusing on the wrong issue. An arranged marriage was not agreeable in any way. Tarrin had courted her for months before any formalities of marriage had been settled upon. As Fiona had said, to be treated like a crate of ice peppers was galling. Sabine started working the muscles in her hand again. Tarrin's father had possibly seen his daughter-in-law in such a way, but she would not stand for it. Nor did she stand for her husband's idleness and indifference to her concerns, pressed over far too many months. How could he had been blind to the subjugation they both had been placed under?

Sabine ran her hands carefully over her dress as Fiona deposited her possessions into her room in the Silver Dolphin. They were quite alike in a few important ways. Both of them had slipped away from their homes and their families. They each had run from a marriage. And they resisted the world that tried to make women into possessions instead of people. Thus, Sabine's face lit up when Fiona said "Would you care for a companion?"

"Absolutely!" Sabine expressed her sentiment by embracing the shorter woman in a firm hug. Such a show of childish affection would have been frowned upon in public, but two noblewomen far from home, alone, in the relative privacy of a inn's upstairs corridor? That the blonde beauty reciprocated was all the validation she needed. When they parted, Sabine held Fiona's shoulders, looking down at her with a firm expression. "You will need rest before we depart tomorrow. But we should also talk as well. I shall leave you to get settled in for now. Meet me downstairs when you have time?"

A short while later, Sabine and her newfound associate sat at a table in the Silver Dolphin's common room. A pitcher of Tairen wine sat in the middle of the table, Sabine nursing a half-filled glass between slender fingers. "Hama Valon," she stated, answering a question. Her dark eyes surveyed the other patrons, all outside of earshot, but she lowered her voice anyways. "The libraries of the Grey Tower will hold some sign as to the Horn's whereabouts. If the libraries are not accessible, some of the inhabitants of the Tower shall be. A few days' spent inquiring, and we should have a clearer notion of where the Horn may lie. Should that fail, you will at least have seen one of your three Towers." Sabine exchanged a smile with the Andoran as she brought the glass of wine up to her lips.

Fiona stared after Sabine in bemused silence. First a friend, then place to stay in a city bursting its seams, and now a traveling companion of similar intent, who also happened to be close to her own age. Though she seems to have seen more than I, the Andoran thought as she leaned over her pack. A quarter hour with mirror, brush, and lamp-heated curling iron ensured that each hair fell perfectly in place, and a dampened towel removed the worst of the travel stains from her dress. A few touches with her brushes and face powders and she turned away from the mirror satisfied that she had improved her appearance as best she could.

She made her way down to the common room to find Sabine sitting alone at a small table in the corner, facing the door that led out. Other people sat alone or in groups at other tables, but none near her. Fiona dipped a respectful curtsy to the innkeeper, then joined the Saldaean, sliding into the chair that faced her and eyeing the pitcher of red liquid curiously. After a moment she reached for the empty stemmed glass and poured herself an amount of wine a little less than what Sabine had.

They spoke of inconsequential things at first, but finally the younger woman shared her plans, and Fiona did a poor job of hiding her glee. "Hama Valon? I have always wanted to go there!" She said excitedly. The wine was bitter on her tongue, but an enjoyable wamrth had bloomed in her core.

"You know about Mar'a'mael, right?" Sabine tilted her head curiously, and Fiona smiled. "It means "House of Hope," and it is Hama Valon's second greatest pride after the Grey Tower." She paused to take a sip of wine, then continued. "It houses the Sharom, which is an enormous university, and the M'sanndane, which is a museum that houses a vast collection of historic and cultural curiosities. I have obviously not been so lucky as to visit, but my mother did, and she said it was well worth the journey. The Grey Tower's library is vast, but that may also be a good place to look for information on-" she caught herself just in time, and finished with "your problem."

She swirled the wine in her cup, realizing abruptly that a hole was attempting to eat its way through her spine. She raised her hand, and after a short delay, ordered a simple platter of bread, cheese, and other finger foods. Then she turned her attention back to Sabine. "If we go to the Grey Tower, I might....see if I can join them," she admitted, her cheeks pink.

Sabine had forgotten about the Mar a'Mael. Or at least the name seemed familiar, so she suspected that she had forgotten. It was good to hear someone else speaking the Old Tongue. This house of hope would be a lot easier to visit than petitioning the Aes Sedai and Asha'man of the Grey Tower to see their library. She did not know how the Sharom would compare to the Grey Tower's repositories of knowledge, but time would answer that question. Maybe there was something in this M'sanndane that others had dismissed as a mere curiosity, but she could discover was a key to finding the Horn. Or any lost relic. Anything to prove that she had something to give to the world beyond suffering as an indentured servant.

Ink black eyes lit up in wonderment at Fiona's revelation. Saldaea had no great like nor dislike for Aes Sedai, as some nations did. Asha'man were tolerated a little less, if only for the damage false Dragons had cost the Borderland nation in years long past. Still, Sabine would have been complacent if their visit to Hama Valon excluded any face-to-face encounters with Aes Sedai or Asha'man alike. It seemed now that was not to be the case. She concealed part of her surprise by sipping on more wine, glancing at her own guarded reflection in the incarnadine liquid. "One assumes you mean to become a novice, not a Warder?" Fiona could have fit into either of those roles, although a budding Aes Sedai seemed a better fit with her good looks and refinement. She looked a great deal more womanly, now that she had the opportunity to freshen up. If the Andoran had the resourcefulness and common sense to leave behind a distasteful existence for the rigours of a life on the move, she could go far as an initiate of the Grey Tower, or the White. However, Fiona clearly knew how to use her bow, and it seemed of fine manufacture. The Grey Tower took in female Warders, for their Asha'man she suspected. Although a life of servitude to an Asha'man sounded worse than a life under an arranged marriage. "Have you been tested yet? I guess not, otherwise an Aes Sedai would have brought you to a Tower already." Those words triggered a sudden realisation. She had never been tested either. In her sixteen years, she had never even met an envoy from the White or Grey Towers. But, of course, there was near to no chance she could become a novice. Not that she would want it, even if she could. Being stuck performing a role someone else had chosen for her? That had been the exact situation that had made her leave Maradon in the first place.

"Have you been tested yet? I guess not, otherwise an Aes Sedai would have brought you to a Tower already." Fiona looked up; Sabine had been nothing but smooth confidence since they met and the note in her voice as she spoke of testing intrigued the Andoran. While the One Power and Aes Sedai were heavy subjects indeed, it surprised her that Sabine would show hesitance.

"I grew up some distance away from any major city," she admitted. "House Trakand owns a vast amount of land, and I grew up in the middle of it. Aes Sedai had no reason to visit our manor, and when I got old enough to visit the palace, the Aes Sedai advisor had business elsewhere." The thought had crossed her mind that perhaps the woman had simply not wanted to speak to an insignificant adolescent girl, but she preferred not to dwell on such an idea. Instead, she smiled. "I suppose it's for the best, however; the advisor to the Queen belongs to the White Tower, but I have always been more fascinated by the Grey."

The serving girl returned with food. Fiona gestured for Sabine to eat if she chose then unabashedly helped herself to large helpings of everything. "Will you come with me to be tested?" She asked as she spread soft cheese onto a piece of bread. "I would not blame you for staying away given your purpose, but….wouldn't you want to know, even a little bit?"

The young woman took a sip of her wine, grimacing at the taste. "Also, how are we getting there?"

Sabine's lips thinned as she considered Fiona's questions. Carefully, not meeting the blonde's eyes, she cut a slice of cheese for herself. Could it be any harm, to accompany Fiona into the Grey Tower to be tested? At least she would have an answer. Yet, she had never asked the question. And if she could channel, would the Grey Tower latch onto her? Women who could channel were taken to the Towers despite any number of protests, as she understood it. She nibbled on the cheese and sipped some wine, wondering if becoming an Aes Sedai would be so bad.

She sniffed at herself and her fool fancies. Fiona eyed her curiously, so she returned a mild smile to appease her. "I shall accompany you. I should know if you are to become a student of the Grey Tower, and thus know not to wait for you on the hunt." Plus, it may give the Hunter an opportunity to garner information straight from some Aes Sedai or Asha'man, if they could be trusted. An Aes Sedai never lies, but the truth she speaks may not be the truth you think you hear. They were all masters of Daes Dae'mar, and that had nothing to do with the Power. Just hundreds of years of manipulating the nations of man.

Long, carefully shaped nails clicked against the side of the wine glass. "I rode most of the way to Illian. The roads are safe enough, if you keep your head about you, and only ride hard as a necessity. A'vron could carry the two of us, but you may be more comfortable on your own horse." Sabine lifted the pitcher, and slowly refilled her glass. "Will you be needing help to acquire one? I trained and helped breed horses in Irinjavar, so I know what to watch for." There was also the question over how much coin the Andoran had.