Merits (attn: Natlya/Bella)

[Jack]

Jerid Walker Asha'man Jerid’s mind was spinning as he walked, his thoughts a constant maelstrom of emotions and calculations. He was considering the number of men to leave behind at Camden Correle, the distance it was between Walker Manor and the hold of House Tyeon in Andor, and all the information in between.

He was also aware of the Dedicated who was struggling to keep pace with the First Keeper. The poor lad, a brown-haired stringbeaned of a boy from the Two Rivers, was perhaps the best candidate on paper. But Jerid knew from the moment he saw the Dedicated he wouldn’t measure up to Soldier Morgan Cade, his previous aide.

He was the closest that the could be offered as such, however, and Jerid would have to make do.

At the moment, he was planning something far removed from the business of the Indigo Ajah. He was planning an invasion of sorts, supply lines, the number of men, the reactions of the Lion Throne and Tar Valon.

A son and grandson were held hostage at House Tyeon. Granted, they were family he was estranged from, but no one held Jerid Walker’s family hostage. The former High Seat of House Walker would ride with more than a thousand armsmen against a house who dared thumb his nose against the Lion Throne, House Walker and Tar Valon itself, of which had one of its nobles hostage.

His mind drifted over the every detail, including the objections Sojin Gaidar, his own son and the twin of the man held hostage, had imparted on him. Sojin had wanted his father to be more careful, but at this point Jerid wanted to show one thing: strength.

A part of the Indigo Asha’man admired his son; he showed signs of leadership beyond the battlefield. But in this case, it was war.

You’ve gone through one war now, why risk another? a voice echoed in his mind. Jerid suppressed it as he rattled off numbers to the Dedicated. But the thought persisted. The city was only recently rebuilding from the recent Seanchan invasion, and he was risking the possibility of another war by simple proxy of his association with the Tower.

He was in the midst of considering such things when he saw the Ji’dar coming toward him. The red-haired trainee might have been above most channelers’ notice, but she was immediately recognizable by Jerid.

“Dedicated, you’re free to go for the next two hours,” Jerid said simply. He caught the boy blinking before he bowed, forfeiting the ledger he had kept and moving ahead without a word.

“Ji’dar Natyla, with me,” he said as the girl passed by him. She was alone and he didn’t expect anything but following orders. He handed her the ledger, with the quill and ink quill attached to it.

He didn’t expect her to write, only follow him. Jerid remembered this young woman very well, for she was connected to Morgan Cade. He’d used her as leverage to keep Morgan in tow, noting that there were death warrants in their names in Lugard. Jerid had seen potential in Morgan, perhaps in ways that exceeded the First Seeker himself.

And he had kept tabs on the trainee, for she showed potential as well, and could be the perfect Warder to one like Morgan.

“You are alive, he is dead,” he said after a moment. He didn’t look at the Ji as they walked. “Why are you still here? Morgan is dead, and your obligation is at an end. If you need blessing to leave the Tower, I will gladly write the Mistress of Arms and Master of Training to accommodate such an arrangement .”

[Bella]

In all truth, there was only a small number of people that Natlya would have wanted to see less than the First Seeker.

With Morgan's death still too fresh in her mind and her heart, Jerid Asha'man was a name and a face that she did not have happy associations about. He had been the ones that dragged them to this forsaken place, and then tried to keep her and Morgan apart. Yes, he'd relented, but still, she hated him for all the rest. If they hadn't been brought here, Morgan would still be alive.

And it wouldn't be her fault, her inadequacy, that he was dead.

Still... She maintained enough of her self-preservation instinct to keep from showing that when he pulled up alongside her and gave her his ledger from the young man. She hoped he didn't expect her to do anything, since then she might not be able to maintain her current neutral facade. She didn't feel like being roasted alive today. If she was going to dive head-first into the Pattern after Morgan, she'd find a better way.

His question, however, was unexpected. No platitudes. No condolences. No orders. When he said what he said, she just stopped walking, and when he turned back to her, she stared. Slightly dumbfounded. She blinked her hazel eyes and knit her red brows. "Because, Asha'man, I have nowhere else to go." It was more plainspoken and honest than she had perhaps ever been with someone but Morgan.

[Jack]

Jerid cocked his head as Natyla stopped in her tracks. Most thieves looked for every avenue of escape but this one appeared to be frozen in fear or surprise.

His gold-green eyes evaluated the young trainee. Jerid knew she had been a constant in Morgan Cade’s life, and one who brought out strong emotions and instincts. That was why he had initially barred any contact between the two. Morgan had turned things around to some degree, enough that Jerid had made the Soldier his aide. When keeping the two apart proved impossible however, he relented, knowing the two would make a good teams.

And then the second Seanchan Siege came, with all the horrors attached. He recalled his brief encounter with his aide while heading toward the Keeper’s Hall and a meeting with the Amyrlin Seat and Keeper of Chronicles. Morgan had asked a question and Jerid had responded.

[i”]They took members of this Tower's family. Now attend your business and do nothing I wouldn't do. And remember the lessons I taught you.”[/i]

Perhaps Jerid should have chosen his words more carefully, for he didn’t think Morgan would be so foolish as to attempt a rescue mission with other half-trained initiates. Based on the reports given and collected from the survivors of that ill-gotten attempt, Morgan had died a hero, buying time to allow others to escape.

But Natlya’s comments made him wonder if it was as a simple a matter for her continued presence or not.

“You’re wrong, Ji’dar,” Jerid said simply, motioning to the ledger he had handed her. He nodded for her to flip through the sheets of parchment until she found one particular piece.

A fine piece of paper, thicker than most, with his own personal seal on it. It was a letter granting safe passage and pardon by the will of the lord of Camden Corelle, a member of House Walker of Walker Manor of Andor, for all previous crimes committed. It bore Natlya’s name ... and Morgan’s.

“Letters have been sent to Ebou Dar, to all cities within Murandy and Andor, so that you might start your life afresh,” Jerid said cooly. “He was born in Mayene, so it should only make sense that his remains should be returned there to rest beside his parents and brother. He died in service to this Tower, and it should be fitting that someone who cared for him should see him home, even if that person failed to protect him in the end.”

[Bella]

Slowly, almost like she thought the paper was a viper that would bite her, she took it in her hand and drew it close enough to read. She had been taught how to read and write at the orphanage, and it was a skill that she had kept up through the years because it came in handy. She was not too bad at forgery as well, but she kept that little skill to herself.

The words did indeed echo all that he said. She stared at it, dumbfounded, as she re-read the words several times.

Could she bear being with his body for that trip? The idea was chilling on some levels, but appropriate on others. The pair had never really talked all that much about where they'd come from, because why did it matter? There was no need to worry about the past, when the present and the future were all around them.

A new life...but what sort of life would it be without Morgan? Alone. She bit the inside of her lip and then lifted her hazel eyes on him again, her suspicion making her blunt, perhaps to the point of disrespect but she didn't care. "Why are you doing this?"

[Jack]

Jerid raised an eyebrow at the girl’s question, as if visibly surprised by it. His gold-green eyes told a different story, as if he knew a very skeptical Ji suspected a potential dropped shoe or double cross somewhere down the road.

“You were swept up into this Tower against your will, and only by proxy,” Jerid murmured. “Truth be told, there was little interest in you beyond turning you over to the local authorities for an attempted con.”

The Indigo turned, walking without so much as a look back. The decision was simple for the Ji, from the First Seeker’s point of view: keep up with him or risk being left behind and sent to the Master of Training’s office.

He heard the shuffle of feet and the effort the small trainee exerted in keeping up with the Asha’man.

“Morgan had two options: be incarcerated for trying to sell what he tried to pull off as an object of the Power here at the Tower or be trained as a Soldier,” the Indigo murmured. “The lad showed great potential from the first time I sensed him channeling in that flaming tavern. You, on the other hand, were not very remarkable at all.”

He tilted his head and looked sideways at the trainee. “It was an easy decision to take you along, because Morgan would likely have been impossible to manage if you were far away or dead,” Jerid said. “What I didn’t expect of him was to play the part so out of character with him: playing the hero to defend a Novice from a Green Asha’man and end up killing the man. He spent five months in a cell for that one, before I found out the truth. His bond mate, another Green Asha’man, died because of darker loyalties.”

His eyes grew dark for a moment. “I lost a good friend and I was the one who had to kill him, both for the deeds he did and for torturing Morgan Cade.”

“Keeping you two apart, perhaps was not so wise a decision,” Jerid admitted after a moment. “But it allowed him time to train and learn, when he wasn’t sneaking off to meet you.”

He motioned to the piece of paper in Natlya’s possession.

“But he is dead, and you have no further purpose to be here,” Jerid said. “He died on your watch, died a hero to cover your foolish rescue attempt of an Accepted and Dedicated who were deep in enemy encampments. If it was a choice between your continued unhappiness or a desire to move on with life, he would want you to do the latter. This is one option. The other is to remain here in training after you’ve seen to escort Morgan’s body home.

He stopped and turned on the Ji, his eyes intense and cold.

“I suggest you do the former, because if you return, you will only fail again,” Jerid said. “I have great respect for the Warders of this Yard; the Gaidin who serve are some of the finest men and women I’ve ever known. My wife is one, my oldest son is one, despite his flaming stubborn pride at times. You will never amount to what even the newest Gaidin is capable of that, and further loss of life of those under your charge will only be a detriment to your psyche. You may be a good thief, a good con artist, but you are no Warder, and I cannot in good conscience support the continued presence of someone who will fail to protect another channeler unless you give me good reason to think otherwise.”

[Bella]

The problem with Natlya was that she did not disagree with him.

Nothing he said was anything she hadn't thought of already, and yet she had determined in herself to become better and never fail anyone ever again. She had convinced herself to remain and do just that, because she did not know what else to do with herself. What if he was right, however? What if she never could be better?

Then again...she had no desire to let this bastard be right about anything. She may have said those things to herself, but that did not mean she would let him say them. "I have nothing to prove to you, Asha'man," she said, in respect and venom. "I have only something to prove to myself, and that is between me and the Warder Yards. I will not justify my existence to you. Sir.

"If you wish me cast from the Tower, speak to the Master of Training. Otherwise, I shall justify my existence to myself, and only whosoever should come to matter in the future."

[Jack]

The problem with Natlya was that she did not disagree with him.

Nothing he said was anything she hadn't thought of already, and yet she had determined in herself to become better and never fail anyone ever again. She had convinced herself to remain and do just that, because she did not know what else to do with herself. What if he was right, however? What if she never could be better?

Then again...she had no desire to let this bastard be right about anything. She may have said those things to herself, but that did not mean she would let him say them. "I have nothing to prove to you, Asha'man," she said, in respect and venom. "I have only something to prove to myself, and that is between me and the Warder Yards. I will not justify my existence to you. Sir.

"If you wish me cast from the Tower, speak to the Master of Training. Otherwise, I shall justify my existence to myself, and only whosoever should come to matter in the future."

If Jerid Walker were known for smiling, he would be doing just that. Instead, his gold-green eyes were hard, cold. Unrelenting as they met the young girl’s own hazel stare, studied her much like a hawk would its next meal.

Or a Fade its next victim. With the First Seeker, one could never be sure which would occur.

If the trainee had spoken to any other Gaidin, Asha’man or Aes Sedai like she spoke to him now, she would at best be sentenced to a month scrubbing chamber pots, at worst sent toward the Farms or some other desolate place.

“Then prove yourself that you have the fortitude to continue, Natlya Ji’val, as you just did with me,” he said cooly. “You have a strength of will inside of you that I saw from the first moment you struggled in that Tavern, and I am glad my assessment of you is both right and wrong.”

The Indigo’s eyes softened, as if to emphasize with Natlya, but only for one second before they turned to stone. If it was not obvious that he had been goading and testing her before, it was evident now.

“We all suffer, Ji’var, all of in some fashion or another. We’ve lost loved ones or had the very things we care for stolen from us at one point or another,” he said matter-of-factly, but with an undercurrent that he knew what he was talking about, more so than most. “It’s how we move past it that defines us. That pain can either weigh us down until you are nothing more than a self-loathing soul who long for nothing more than a cup of poison or a sword in the belly. Or you can let it strengthen you, and you can wear it like armor so that when the day comes, words like mine and the self-doubt created from them will not penetrate so easily.”

A hand faster than her comprehension snapped the ledger he had pressed in her grasp away, and he quietly detached the pardon written in her name before passing it back to her.

“As I said, you have a strength in you. Find that strength, Natlya, and I feel that when the day comes when danger threatens the person who you are sworn to defend next, not even Old Grim would be a match for you,” he murmured, with some pride. “Now I’d suggest you wrap up whatever business you have, for you have a long journey and a lot of thinking to do on your way to Mayene.”

[Bella]

As he stared at her, she stared at him. She wasn't sure, at that moment, she cared what he did to her. Cast her out of the Tower. Had the Master of Training punish her. Burnt her to a cinder...

The words he did speak were not what she had expected. Her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed slightly. The soft gaze in his eyes, if only for a moment, did not go missed by one staring at him as intently as she was. What was this... Words poked inside her mind. A test of some sort? This flaming man...

In that moment, she wished that he and his warder had killed them in that tavern instead of bringing them here.

She took the papers in her hands when he handed them back, now with just permission to take Morgan's body home. Natlya almost laughed at the irony of being made so angry at this place just as her exit from it was removed. But she was glad for these, as it seemed the least she could do for her beloved. If she had been able to do nothing else.

Looking up at Jerid again, she again stared at him. His words now were kind, but not enough to remove how she felt about the ones that had come before...which he had not even meant. Hadn't there been a time when Asha'man and Aes Sedai could not lie? How had she come by the misfortune of one who now could?

Once upon a time, she had played games. Perhaps she was losing some taste for them, or maybe she just didn't like them being played on her. To what end this one? What did he really care about her? She didn't trust it.

"Yes, Asha'man," she said, bowing her head slightly. Perhaps she should have thanked him, but she did not want to. "If that will be all?"

[Jack]

Jerid would have smiled knowing that the words would sink in, but he wasn’t that person most days. With the exception of a very few people, whatever warmth he displayed was fleeting at best.

His eyes were cold once more, the gold flecks standing like frozen fire against a forest backdrop as he lifted a finger.

Though he didn’t show compassion much more these days, that did not mean he was without some.

“Morgan Cade was the best aide I had since perhaps Balen Ashe was Raised from Dedicated to the Grey Ajah,” he murmured as he retrieved an item from a pocket. “He could have risen high, even as high as the Master of Soldiers. His passing left ripples that impact all of us.”

He held out a simple river stone, in shades of blue and green, worn smooth by its time in the water. Engraved in it was a simple word in the Old Tongue: Remember.

“This was the last ter’angreal I crafted, and may be for some time to come,” the Indigo murmured. He spoke the phrase in the Old Tongue, and the engraving lit.

A small image appeared in the air between Asha’man and Ji’var. It was that of a slender man with blue-grey eyes, the color of mist, and mousy brown hair cut short. Those eyes sparked with mischief. Every detail, every curve of his face, down to the faint scar on his chin was in place. He was dressed in Soldier black, working at a desk almost nonchalantly when he smiled warmly.

After a brief moment, the illusion faded.

“My biggest mistake was keeping you two apart, because it stole precious moments that should have belonged to you two,” Jerid said. “The cruelest thing that one can do, however, is to force you to forget. There will come a time when you may not remember his face, despite how hard you might try.”

Jerid was not so fortunate. He remembered every face, every last look. He placed the stone in Ji’var’s hand.

“Speak the word I just spoke, and the illusion will appear, but for only half a candle mark before it needs to go dormant and restore itself for the next day,” the Indigo said. “And should desire to keep on disliking me as the overall reason Morgan is no longer here, do so. I will not be here much longer as a resident of this Tower. Now go and return to your duties, Ji'var, and as I said, put your affairs in order. You have a long journey ahead.”