The Grey Tower

What a bloody awful man! He does absolutely everything to piss me off! He could teach lessons to a bloody rock, the way he just sits there, all silent, as if his presence alone wasn't enough to-! The thought ended as Elia seized saidar and hurtled a book with Air at the man in the armchair. He lowered the book he was reading, and cast a glance at his assailant just as the book smashed straight into his chest. Elia felt the flare of pain as if the book hit her own chest, and she immediately regretted the action. For his part, Ravak leaned forward in his chair and retrieved the book. With an eerie calm, he inspected it. "You've put the spine out."

"I'll put your spine-!" she yelled, then stopped, her upraised arms flopped down to her sides in despair. She sunk into her chaise longue face down, as tears of frustration started to stream from her eyes. She felt her brother stand up, and cross the room to sit by her feet.

A large, gentle hand rested on her ankle. "Are you going to tell me what's wrong, El? I can... well, you know I can feel what you're-" he grunted in pain. "Why are you shutting me out?" Just leave me alone! she screamed in her head. She kicked his hand away, but after a moment he replaced it. She thought to kick it away again, but what was the point? Obstinate man!

They stayed like that for some time. In the calm, Elia began to feel her brother's emotions pushing through her own. He was hurt. Not physically (although the book impact still hurt), but he was in pain. She felt the sour knot in his stomach. He ached for something. Ravak was also tense, the way he was in training. Elia didn't have the strength of will to figure out what was going on.

Eventually she rose, her feelings depleted. She bent her legs so she ended up close to Ravak, face-to-face. With the same gentle nature he had shown, she placed a hand on his cheek. He looked as stoic as ever, even if he wasn't underneath. Elia cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, brother."

He frowned slightly, unaware of the weaves of saidar that danced around him. She was weak in Earth and Fire, but all five parts of the Power mixed together. They settled into the Gaidin in a well-learned pattern, even she hadn't performed them before. When it was done, his eyes flashed in... She couldn't tell. Her face split into a smile.

An hour later, and Elia Darrow walked with trepidation through the Grey Tower. Her orders were clear - oh so crystal clear. There was no disobeying them. "Report to his quarters after midday. He will be expecting you."

The he in question was what frightened Elia. Emmond Asha'man was one of the most formidable negotiators in the Grey Tower. It would have surprised her that he wasn't a Sitter, if she wasn't aware of his other role. Emmond stood above Mirin in the hierarchy of the Black Ajah. She wasn't certainly how far above, but it was significant. And he was powerful, easily powerful enough to end her life. That was one of her many concerns. Her deeper concerns was that he would do something far, far worse.

Her slippered feet brought her to Emmond Salere's door. Nothing to denote the danger that lurked behind. She paused on the threshold. What injuries had he sustained in the attack on the Tower? Was this simply a ploy by Mirin, or a ploy by Emmond. It was entirely possible that this was simply Mirin delivering her errant student to be disposed. Oh light, please say it isn't Murdock. He had his angreal now. Would that make her death quicker or slower, or just more painful? Would anything be left?

Her hand was knocking on the door before she could stop herself. Would the Oaths have even allowed her to stop? She lowered her hand slowly, making herself seem as deferential as possible. She'd dressed as conservatively as her wardrobe allowed, anything to make her seem the willing supplicant and caretaker.

It was unlike him to sleep until noon. In fact, it was unlike him to sleep until past dawn. A typical day began with an early morning stroll, a few swings with practice lathes, and a warm drawn bath, all before breakfast. Emmond rolled over, pulling his sheets to curl around his body. It had only been a week since the Seanchan attack, but it felt much longer since he'd had a typical day.

Today, he had spent his morning asleep. True sleep, not Tel'aran'rhoid. Ever since he had discovered his Talent for Dreamwalking, he had adopted it as his realm. But even there, he found no solace. How could he manipulate that world if he could not see?

A knock on the door echoed from the sitting room. He groaned, the sound muffled by his pillow. It was not Mirin - it did not sound like her knock - and anyways, the blasted woman had sent a message earlier. The young soldier who bore the message had been rather confused as he had recited, Remember Kaisin Pass. A river lily blooms at midday seeking answers.

There was really no need for encryption, but it was something they liked to do. Mirin loved history. Kaisin Pass was a battle fought a thousand years past and won with reinforcements from an Amyrlin of the White Tower. He should expect help, then, though he had no idea what form of "help" Mirin thought he could use. The river lily was a symbol for sisters of the Indigo Ajah - and the rest of the message was obvious. He crawled out of bed and stood. Where were his pants?

He stuck his head out into the sitting room. "Who is it?" he called out. Then he dropped to his knees to search the floor, maneuvering carefully around the corners of his bed.

A female voice replied. "Elia Sedai,” she said.

His hand touched cloth. Ah, there they were. He hopped toward the sitting room on one foot, then the other, pulling up the pants around his waist. Then he reached for saidin. Emotions faded as the Power rushed into him, locking him in its eternal, violent battle for control.

With saidin within him, he could sense more of the world. He pressed his ear to the door and listened to her breaths. They were quick and even; the young Aes Sedai was nervous, but collected. Much like myself, he thought. His heart pounded within his chest. He smiled wryly, and then felt for the handle of the door.

The door swung open. Emmond leaned against the doorframe and tried to face where he thought her head would be.

"Elia Sedai. Pleasure to have you visit. Though I'm afraid that Mirin has sent you on a fool's errand. I will let her know that I do not require your assistance."

He smiled politely and cocked his head to the side, hoping that he would hear an apology and soft footsteps padding away. Then he could get back to thinking of ways to get the bloody meddlesome Mistress of Novices to leave him alone.

The last time Elia had lain eyes on Emmond Asha'man, he had been immaculately dressed, the perfect gentleman, and charming to a fault. The Emmond Salere that greeted her seemed to be missing most of these things. For one, he was shirtless. Elia glanced without thinking at his chest, a formation of lean, hard muscles. As before, she thought he was a man that looked after himself. Which beggars the question, why would he need me? The worry that this was leading towards a punishment for her verbal transgression once again struck her, but Mirin's commands were driven into her by the Oaths.

Emmond leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly, almost inviting her to stare at the exposed flesh, but she affixed her eyes to his. His rich brown eyes seemed to focus slightly beyond where she was, as if he was thinking of something. "Elia Sedai." His voice was honey, sweet and enticing. Her cheeks began to warm. "Pleasure to have you visit. Though I'm afraid that Mirin has sent you on a fool's errand." The knots of worry began to unravel at his words. "I will let her know that I do not require your assistance." He tilted his head slightly, with an endearing smile. Elia blinked slowly, attempting to rid herself of the confusion that was fogging her mind. The man emanated charm as if he was born into it. This contradicted the Friend of the Dark he truly was, likely a man who had ordered the deaths of several Aes Sedai or Asha'man. How did he keep the two halves of himself apart?

Elia tilted her head. She had an out, but could she take it? Mirin's instructions were to report to Emmond's quarters, as she did. "He will be expecting you." And he had, but now he didn't want her? Maybe Mirin had hoped that Emmond would deal with Elia's tongue, but the Grey Asha'man clearly had no desire for it. You've gone too far, Mirin. A refreshing thought.

The Shienaran made as if to speak when she noticed that Emmond was still staring into the space beneath and beside her head. She watched him closely, remembering something else the Mistress of Novices had said. "His injuries are mildly concerning." Did that have something to do with the way he wasn't quite looking at her? Is this a weakness I can exploit came the parallel thought.

"Emmond Asha'man," she replied, using just as much sweetness as he had. "Maybe we should speak inside?" Coming from a Sitter, even one of another Ajah, that wasn't technically a request. Still, if he rebuked, she wouldn't push him. Outwardly she may be the senior of the two, but outwards rank had no bearing in the Black Ajah. Still, if he relented, she may be able to ferret out how much Emmond knew of her encounter with Mirin. That would attest to Mirin's ambitions and loyalties. At most, Elia could discern exactly how to bring the man down. With Murdock's assistance. The man had an angreal, and he was damn well going to use it to her benefit.

Almost he refused. No we should not, he would have said, biting off his words with the ferocity of a wolf defending its den. And then perhaps she would have gone away without the need to attract unnecessary attention from the rest of his Ajah. But something about the sweetness of her voice gave him pause. Maybe he had misinterpreted Mirin's message. Elia made ter'angreal, and perhaps her Talent could do something that the best Healers of the Tower could not. Maybe she could help him restore his sight.

Emmond hardly dared to let himself hope. The emotion skittered across the surface of the Void and quickly faded back to calm.

"Very well," he said, and angled his body to gesture towards the sitting room. He kept ahold of saidin, trying to use it to supplement his other senses as much as possible. As she passed by, he caught a bright, resinous scent and involuntarily he inhaled sharply. Juniper, he identified, plus something spicy, like pine or rosemary. Something soft brushed his side. Silk sleeves, long. He turned to follow the sound of her footsteps - as she moved toward the left, he shifted toward the right. Four measured steps and his hand touched the armrest of a chair.

How long could he keep up this facade of normality? He eased himself into the chair and leaned back, relaxing into the firm cushions. His sitting room was clean and rather austere. Dull shades of grey and brown predominated, though a large painting hung on one wall to add a splash of color. A small collection of blades hung opposite. The doors to his study room and bedroom stood open, exposing a bare writing desk and an unkept bed - with a wrinkled linen shirt thrown over the bedside table.

"Please sit," he said. There was a rustle of silk against the upholstery of the seats. He ventured into small talk. "How have you been, Elia Sedai?"

Elia glided into the room, the cuff of her dress accidentally brushing against his exposed torso. She mentally bit off a curse at that, but it was minor consequences against any of the other sins Emmond may be aware of.

The Grey's quarters were drab. Grey and brown dominated, in a way that may have been aimed at earthly, but didn't appeal to her sense of style. Nor did the weapons arrayed on one of the walls. She didn't recall seeing Emmond in the Yards any time she had passed by, but it was entirely possible he had been. He clearly exercised to keep in shape, so it would be no surprise to her if Emmond was as deft with a sword as any of the Gaidin. She avoided peeking into the other room, although the door was flung wide open, instead taking a seat at his command.

"How have you been, Elia Sedai?" Again that voice. It was a cruelty that anyone could produce such a gratifying sound just by talking.

"I am doing well, Emmond Asha'man." She tried to respond in kind, layers of honey and caramel. Her talent was in the mimicry of accents, though. Still, she'd had her run of the boys back in Fal Dara. "Mirin Sedai suggested-" commanded "-that I come to you-" not even commanded, it was a bloody dismissal! "-and offer my aid." I'm going to enjoy watching Murdock work his magic on her someday. "She said you were injured."

The Asha'man didn't look injured, at least not bodily. Unless it was below the waist, and nothing that hampered his movement. Something of the mind? Elia knew that her ability with Healing was only of moderate ability, but she was a better Delver. Maybe there was something she could find wrong with his mind. Maybe that's why Mirin had sent her? Aah, too many questions, and not enough answers!

Mirin had said that much? Well, there was little point in trying to hide it forever.

"Here's a puzzle for you," he said. "Do you know of a way to help a blind man see?"

"That depends what on you mean. Are we speaking literally or metaphorically?"

"Literally."

There was a long pause before she replied.

"It may be possible."

Emmond pushed down a swell of irritation. "And what would make it possible?" he asked.

"I'd have to look into it. It's possible that there is something in the Vaults that can suit such a purpose. If not, I could look into making one."

His calm shattered and saidin roared as he struggled to regain the Void. He stood, slammed his palms on the sitting room table, and leaned forward threateningly.

"I don't appreciate guessing games," he hissed. "When I ask you a question, I expect clear, concise answers. You are useful, Elia, but don't overvalue yourself. Understood?"

He took a deep, ragged breath and noticed again the sweet and spicy notes of juniper and rosemary. His head spun. He hadn't eaten all day. Slowly he returned to his seat. What should he do with this girl? He suspected that Elia was to serve as a spy. Why else would Mirin send her to him? Beautiful, sweet Elia, who spoke of secrets and promises. Her ambition reminded him of Mirin in her youth. Yet Mirin had always been more predictable and less brash, while Elia seemed a touch too eager. But he had few options. He clutched the Void around him. When he spoke again, his voice was calm.

"Look in the Vaults for anything that may help the blind see. And do your research on making such an object. I will expect a complete report tomorrow."

He knew that he set high expectations for the young Aes Sedai - but he was too angry to care. Elia would find a way to make it happen or face his displeasure.

"Questions?"

"Here's a puzzle for you," Emmond said. "Do you know of a way to help a blind man see?"

Elia mused on that. Help a blind man see? Was this some sort of indictment on her actions, or was he referring to someone else? He bore a patient look. "That depends on what you mean," she said carefully. "Are we speaking literally or metaphorically?"

Some of the honey ebbed from his voice. "Literally."

Elia frowned in thought. Something that can literally restore sight, or at least allow some sort of mimicry of sight? It was an odd request, although not one she was about to laugh away as absurd. Not when she was sat across from Emmond Salere of the Black Ajah.

She mentally worked through all of the ter'angreal that she'd come across in the Vaults. There were a lot of objects down there that didn't have a known purpose, or had failed to bear any fruit when brothers and sisters had been investigating them. And then there are the mishaps. It was doubtful anything that had gentled or stilled a person would have anything to do with restoring sight to a blind man.

A blind man... Malachite green focused on rich brown. Again he wasn't quite looking straight at her. A blind man. She moved in her seat, adjusting her torso so she was leaning to the right. Nothing changed in his focus. She then adjusted left. Again, nothing. Her brow drew down a little deeper.

"It may be possible." That wasn't exactly a lie - anything could be possible when it came to the One Power, but Elia had very little idea of how to go about exploring that possibility. She thought it more likely that the Yellows would know of some way to Heal the eyes before a ter'angreal could be found or made for such a purpose.

"And what would make it possible?" All traces of the endearing diplomat had gone. His voice was flat and commanding.

"I'd have to look into it," she replied, moving yet again in her seat and noting no change in his focus. She was actually becoming convinced that he was focused far too close to his own face. That façade isn't going to last for long. Maybe there was a chance the Hall would dispose of him. What good was a blind Asha'man. Can he even channel any more? Now that was a promising thought.

She continued. "It's possible that there is something in the Vaults that can suit such a purpose. If not, I could look into making one."

The change in Emmond was immediate. His face contorted into open fury as his hands crashed into the table between them, toppling the small trinkets atop it and knocking the whole thing askew. He rose to his feet, leaning over the small gap between them and glaring down at her with a baleful glare. "I don't appreciate guessing games!" he hissed. A shudder ran through her as she remembered who she was dealing with, blind or not. She wasn't even sure if he was blind now, the way his gaze was affixed to her face. "When I ask you a question, I expect clear, concise answers. You are useful Elia, but don't overvalue yourself. Understood?"

He drew in a long, angry breath before he slowly slipped back into his chair. Those eyes had no problem finding her face now, which no doubt looked equally shocked and scared. She didn't even bother to try and hide the fact she was terrified. She gripped the arms of the chair tight in a vain effort to still her trembling arms.

When he next spoke, Emmond was as calm as a spring day. "Look in the Vaults for anything that may help the blind see. And do your research on making such an object. I will expect a complete report tomorrow. Questions?"

She was still trying to get herself together, feeling foolish to have considered Emmond such a minor threat. He was probably wrestling with saidin just now, and had the capacity to rip her apart handily. Saidar called reassuringly from a distance, but it was well beyond her to consider reaching for it. She had difficulty enough working up enough moisture to reply to his question. "I shall do my best, Emmond Asha'man." There was no hiding her worry.

She had her orders. Technically, she had two sets of orders, but Emmond's command definitely run roughshod over Mirin's suggestion of 'keeping up appearances'.

The Vaults comprised of a great number of rooms under the Grey Tower. There was one that Elia had more or less claimed as her own, and it was into that dark alcove that she secluded herself away. The annoying buzzing that had been Ravak was gratefully no longer with her after this morning, allowing her to concentrate on the task at hand.

She was caught up in a bit of a bind. Emmond's instructions were clear and non-negotiable. She would look for a suitable ter'angreal or look to make one, and in the morrow, she would report to him. It didn't matter how much, now that she was away from him to think clearly, she didn't want to help him. She'd been right before: if he was blind, he was less of a threat. And the desire to actually do still burned in her. She was a slave to Emmond's will at the moment, but that was not the progress she was hoping to make. If he directed some of that fury at the Tower, maybe I wouldn't be grovelling in the Vaults looking for trinkets. Her mind screamed even as her body acted out the mechanical actions of looking through pages of notes and research, bringing different objects to her desk and bringing towards weaves of saidar. She idly wondered if this was what damane felt like.

Hours passed in the darkness. She ran through three candles whilst researching, and had to retrieve some lantern oil from a storeroom two floors up. Elia only passed by servants, and very few of them at that. That meant the hour was late, or early. She stopped one of the men with a hand to his shoulder. "The time?" He seemed a little taken aback, but responded. Two hours after the last bell. Was it that late already? She thanked them, then descended back into the bowels of the Tower.

She knocked on his door twice. She raised a hand to her hair, then grasped around. Where are the moonstones? She swore she'd put them in this, no no, last morning. Hadn't she? She rubbed at her eyes for the umpteenth time. Somehow she had to get breakfast.

"Who is it?" came Emmond's voice.

"Eliaaah-" she raised a hand to stifle the yawn that came unbidden. It went on for long enough that she decided 'Elia' would do, instead of going to repeat herself.

Emmond opened the door in a much better state than he had been in earlier. For one, he was actually wearing a shirt. And he was smiling. Elia yawned again, unable to keep it in. "I'm here," she said in a beleaguered tone. "I did as you asked." He invited her in before she could get much further on with her report.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

Emmond found three throwing daggers sunk blade-first into the wooden target that hung on the wall. Only one had come within a foot of the center. Pathetic. Perhaps it would be easier with sound, he mused.

A knock echoed through his quarters. He plucked free the knives and slipped them into their hidden hilts. A few quick strides took him across the room and he pressed his back to the door.

"Who is it?"

"Eliaaah-" She yawned. Emmond grinned in amusement and swung open the door.

"I'm here. I did as you asked," she said tiredly. An unsought picture of the Shienaran beauty appeared in his mind with her red hair mussed and her eyes blinking sleepily. For a moment, Emmond felt uncharacteristically uncertain. If he'd had his sight, he would've taken her hand and led her where she could rest. A happy assistant was a productive assistant - and as long as they remained useful, Emmond took care of his people.

"Come in," he said, hastily. He stepped aside to let her pass. "Have you eaten? Sit."

He poked his head out the door and summoned a servant to order breakfast. Then, he turned back and.... blood and bloody ashes, he hadn't noticed where she sat. Should he look to the left, or the right? He settled for walking into his study to gather up the pile of letters that had arrived earlier that morning.

"What did you find?" he asked, trying not to sound too eager. His voice carried into the sitting room.

As the Indigo sister spoke, he sorted the letters. Thin paper covered with the dust of travel with bent corners - personal correspondence from his eyes-and-ears from somewhere far away. Thick, hefty paper that smelled faintly of medical paste and ginger - that would be from one of the Yellow sisters, most likely Liliandra Sedai. A note folded into a precise square - that would be Mirin, who certainly liked to keep her communication tidy. How strange. She was one of the few who knew of his blindness. Once sorted, he placed them into drawers filled with the letters of the past week. Normally he would burn them all and scatter the ashes; but since the accident, he lacked the ability to read them. When he filed the last letter, he frowned. Something was missing - the short, weekly note from Orin. A mystery for another day.

Elia's report was unfavorable. Unsurprising, though he was impressed by her thoroughness. Her voice trembled faintly as she delivered the bad news, which he found amusing. Another knock sounded on the door, and then the smell of freshly cooked breakfast drifted through his quarters.

"Leave it on the table," he called. After the servant left, he moved back to the sitting room to face Elia's general direction.

"For you," he said. A broad smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Elia. I appreciate your work. After you eat, please feel free to sleep here. We can talk after you rest." He gestured toward the open door to his bedroom, where the sheets had been tidied, though they laid a little crooked.

"I... I would rather sleep in my own bed," said Elia.

Emmond imagined the blush creeping to her cheeks. He pretended to be offended.

"What, my bed isn't good enough for you?"

"I wouldn't know," she said. Emmond laughed. She continued, "I can sleep in my own bed and come back later, if that suits you?"

"Lighten up, Elia. Just thought that I'd save you a trip through the Tower. But it's fine. Come back as soon as you wake."

He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his study. She could do as she liked. As for him, it was time to think.

Elia unceremoniously slumped into the same chair as she had earlier - was that only yesterday? - once more abandoning any pretence of being anything other than tired. She had a hand close to her mouth to cover the various yawns she unwillingly emitted. Maybe I should look into getting someone to bond me. I could do with some of that Warder endurance. Then again, she hoped she wouldn't be ordered about like that again, but it was almost inevitable that she would be. At least it didn't grate quite so much being under Emmond's command than Mirin's, if only by a sliver.

She gave her findings to Emmond, who sat in his study off from the main room. Despite her efforts, she hadn't got anywhere towards obtaining what Emmond had requested. There were fundamental problems that needed to be overcome, and some were potentially outside of her expertise to try to answer. She would have to visit the Library for some texts on human biology to try to begin puzzling out those. The Shienaran tried, but it was impossible to obscure the sound of worry from her voice. She had exhausted some avenues of inquiry, which was progress in a way. But that wasn't the sort of thing a man like Emmond wanted to hear.

Elia was interrupted right at the end by a servant coming in with a tray of food. The smells of apple and cinnamon penetrated the thin cloth that covered the tray. Her stomach protested loudly at the unwelcome reminder that she hadn't eaten in the last few hours. Emmond came back into the living room for his meal, and genuinely surprised her when he said "For you." The thanks as well was a shock. She didn't anticipate the same palm-slamming event that happened before, but she had expected a dressing down. She thought he'd see her day's worth of work as a massive failure. It seemed the opposite was true.

Two surprises came in the same breath. "After you eat, please feel free to sleep here."

The different connotations of that suggestion wound around her brain like a noose. He was back to warm honey just now, but she'd caught a glimpse of the other side of Emmond Salere. She could wake to find him looking over her like his favourite daughter caught napping, or surrounded by several dark-hooded figures, shielded and bound by threads of Air. "I... I would rather sleep in my own bed." That was plain and simple truth, but there was still a note of trepidation when she spoke.

"What, my bed isn't good enough for you?" There was mock offence in that. At least, she thought it was feigned. He could command her to his bed, she realised. That brought a terrified shudder she mostly kept hidden. What would happen to me if he did? She'd seen the light of depravity in a man's eyes before, as he spoke amiably about his exploration of the human body as he ripped searing pain from her veins. She couldn't imagine how she would react if that same light shone in Emmond's brown eyes. I'd confess everything to him, she realised. Anything to stop such barbarism.

She ventured very carefully forwards. Her voice was unnaturally still. "I wouldn't know." Nor do I ever wish to. "I can sleep in my own bed and come back later, if that suits you?"

Honey again from the Asha'man. "Lighten up Elia. Just thought that I'd save you a trip through the Tower. But it's fine. Come back as soon as you wake." With that he rose, departing back to his study.

Elia thought to leave immediately, but her stomach growled again, and he had fetched the meal for her. If Emmond wasn't planning on letting her leave, then it didn't matter whether she ate the meal or not. With that decided, she lifted the cloth and began to work her way willing on the oatmeal provided.

She returned to Emmond's apartment a few hours later. When her head had hit her pillows, she went to sleep immediately. In her dreams she found herself thinking of her fellow Darkfriends. At first she was back in the Vaults, working at a ter'angreal for Emmond. A heavy manacle bound around her ankle locked her to the table. That had been Emmond, desperate to restore his sight so he was free of his rooms.

After that nightmare came one with Mirin. She had her, much as she thought of before, shielded and pinned to a bed. Several hooded figures sat on the edges of vision, but the Blue sister was always in the fore. There were no intelligible words, but Mirin spoke. She was jealous of Elia's talents. Jealous of her beauty, and of her station. Mirin wanted to sit in the Hall of the Tower and know the innermost workings of the Asha'man and Aes Sedai. She wanted Emmond's attention and affections, that in this dream Elia had whisked away from her. The scornful words were accompanied by shallow cuts, administered by a dagger in Mirin's soft hands. She sliced with verbal barbs and physical ones. She relished the pain that came screaming out from Elia, as the Shienaran thrashed uselessly against her bonds. Eventually, with murder in her eyes, Mirin plunged the dagger deep into Elia's heart.

That should have been the end of it. Some part of Elia's rational, waking mind realised that such a shock, even imagined, should have awoken her. Instead she was somewhere she didn't recollect, and everything seemed real, even as indistinct as it was. Slowly she recognised the shape of the chamber as a facsimile of Emmond's room, if it had been stripped of furnishings. The walls were not the earthen tones she would have expected. Furniture began to flicker into being around her. Tall bookcases moved around unnaturally, sometimes filled with books, sometimes empty. A chair moved across the room as well, although it mostly hovered near the fireplace. A sidetable came into view, books lain atop it, propped near the chair. She stepped towards the table, and grabbed a book just before the table vanished. She ignored the confusion going on around her, and flipped open the book. Biological diagrams greeted her, all drawn out in exquisite detail. The inner workings of animals, she came to realise. She only had a brief few moments with the book when it and the chamber and the world all disappeared into black.

Elia woke to bright sunshine pouring through her bedroom window. It took her several long moments to embrace saidar and close the curtains from her bed. It took significantly longer for her to motivate herself to stand, her bare feet finding her slippers on the sheepskin rug. After about an hour of conscious thought, Elia Sedai was once again looking like a Sitter of the Hall, instead of a wild-haired Accepted who'd been up all night cramming in late homework. If yesterday had been about making herself seem the perfect student, today was a return to normality. Her dress was crimson, in a Taraboner style but of a much thicker cut. It clung in all the right places, but didn't reveal as much as most men would have liked. But then, the dress wasn't for them, it was for her. She'd actually received a veil with the dress, but she wasn't about to make a mockery of Tarabon culture. "Even if I can do the voice, yes?" she chimed to her own amusement.

Elia received the customary greeting from Emmond. Even if he had to notice the sudden shift in her attire, he was a gentleman about it, keeping his gaze firmly at eye level. At least, he was when her back wasn't to him. Instead of gesturing to the chairs as before, he invited her into his study. With some hours of sleep behind her, Elia was able to keep any fears in check, and led the way.