The Grey Tower

Kaira followed her father to a corner of the Warder Yards. Though she walked at a measured and steady pace, she couldn’t help the bounce in her step nor the wide grin on her face. Her hair hung in two neat braids down her back, courtesy of Katrie Sedai - she hardly had the patience to sit still enough for braids, much less ply them herself!

The previous day had been spent in miserable solemnity as the Tower remembered the anniversary of the disaster that had taken the lives of scores of young channelers. Her father had attended the annual ceremony by the memorial statue in the Tower gardens. A very dull affair or so Kaira imagined; and she was glad that her father had not made her attend. Especially because she preferred to remember the day by a far happier occasion - her birthday! She had turned nine years old and asked her father for a very special present.

“Can you spar with me? Not a silly, dumb lesson, Daddy. I want a serious lesson, like you do with the Drin and Ji. Please, Daddy? Please?”

His face had been inscrutable. But she knew that he would give in. He always did.

Kaira was too nervous and excited to notice the onlookers who had stopped to see what the Gaidin Captain would be doing with his daughter. The Warder Yards were not a place for children - not even for the daughter of a Tower official. This was her first time stepping on the packed ground. Her reverence for this previously untouchable plot of land only added to her energy. She nearly buzzed with unrestrained happiness.

Ravak chose a small, marked-off area. Then he stopped and turned. His arms crossed as he looked Kaira up and down. Her bright blue-grey eyes mirrored her father’s steely gaze, though her expression was far more lively than Ravak’s serious countenance.

“What do you know?” he asked. His voice seemed torn between the rough growl he used for trainees and the warm tone reserved for his daughter.

For an answer, she gripped the hilt of the short ter’angreal sword that she wore on her left hip and unsheathed it in smooth arc of Unfolding the Fan. She brought the blade up to her waist in a steady guard stance. Then, she stepped forward and balanced on one foot while bringing the sword above her head. She pivoted on the balls of her feet, keeping the sword steady and demonstrating her balance with Heron Wading in the Rushes.

Finally, she demonstrated the two simple attack forms she knew. The first drew her blade from left to right in the controlled strike of Parting the Silk. She followed it with a powerful diagonal slash that smoothed out horizontally in The Boar Rushes Down the Mountain.

Kaira had been learning from Uncle Dax in secret lessons. Not much, but enough for her to begin carrying the ter’angreal sword less like a toy and more like a weapon. She snuck a glance at her father and was disappointed at the blankness of his expression. Perhaps Ravak knew of Dax's lessons; but if he didn't, he did not look surprised. Nor did he look impressed.

She brought the sword back to the guard stance and chewed the inside of her lip nervously while she waited for further instruction.

Heavy rain smacked against the window, leaving the sky an indistinct murk of grey and silver. Days at the Tower usually started with a mad rush of students forcing down a quick breakfast and looking up their daily tasks. That would not be the case today. Nine years ago to the day, someone entrusted with the care and protection of the learning ranks took it upon herself to slaughter those same novices and soldiers in the dozens. Today was a day of remembrance, marked by a ceremony that would last half of the day.

Ravak looked past the glass into the haze beyond. His hands were crossed over the bed blankets as his mind drifted in a similarly indistinct way. That day nine years ago was something he had experienced first-hand, from a completely unique perspective. Almost for the entire length of the time the Hall of Sitters were hunting down the guilty party, Rav had been sitting by her side, feeling a sense of pride that curdled his stomach now, looking back. It was also unique in that he gave equal weight to the fifty-two lives lost as he did to the one life gained. No-one else sat on the knife's edge between sorrow and happiness, hope for the future against the devastation of the past.

The sounds of someone jumping out of bed in the room besides his prompted the Shienaran into action. Sullenly he swung his legs over the bed, and got to his feet before his bedroom door was pushed open. The smile on his face felt a little less feigned when he saw his daughter's look of love beam back at him. Scooping her up, he asked a very simple question: what do you want for your birthday? Kaira received presents all the time from her father, but each birthday she got to make her own choice.

The answer had come as quite a bit of a shock.

Arms crossed, the Master of Training looked down at his latest student. His face was caught halfway between the smile he reserved for Kaira, and the frown that everyone in the Yards knew and expected. The youngest name in the roster was a thirteen year old girl, but Kaira outstripped that by four years. He had little clue how to balance his usual style of training against his love for his daughter. Kaira would be expecting a proper lesson, but leaving her with a series of educational bruises would amount to no small amount of completely justified screaming, and not just from the plucky nine year old.

"What do you know?" There was little that Ravak did not know about Kaira, although she probably thought there was plenty. He knew what happened under the roof of the Mar a'Mael, just as he knew what adventures Kaira would get up to with her 'Auntie' Katrie and 'Uncle' Dax. Elia was a little more circumspect, but he could read enough from what she said (and did not say) to know that their secrets were not important in the grand scheme of things.

Kaira moved awkwardly through a series of forms, or a good approximation thereof. She drew out her sword with a slight curve, then straighten the blade too far towards the sky. Her attempts at Heron Wading in the Rushes were actually quite graceful, but as she came out of it into Parting the Silk, her footwork was forgotten about. Her feet were in line, both facing forwards. If she was one of his Drin, she'd push her over with the tip of a practice blade. One of us is going to be rather unhappy if you end up covered in mud.

As she bit her lip, Ravak couldn't help but break into a slight grin. It was utterly adorable, although even mentioning that would bring down the Creator's wrath in the form of a nine year old's tantrum. He made the amused look into a pleased one.

"Not bad," he stated earnestly, "but we can make improvements. Feet." He gestured to the placement of his daughter's shoes. "Watch me." Rav stepped into a reverse guard stance, his right foot forward and pointed towards Kaira, his left angled to the side. "Now, do you why do we stand like this? Do you know what is wrong with the way you are standing just now?" He waited for the answer before continuing.

"Footwork is the key to everything. It's the plate which you pile your food on. No plate, the food goes everywhere, and you don't eat." He smiled at the strange metaphor. "Now, watch me again, see how I move backwards and forwards." It occurred that Dax had already taught Kaira all of this, but she'd forgotten in the heat of the moment. If she wanted to become a Gaidin, and Rav knew that was a distinct possibility, she had to get these fundamentals drilled into her head.

He stepped backwards. That involved moving his rear foot back a couple of paces, followed by his front foot. Moving forwards was the reverse; leading foot stepping towards Kaira, with the back foot following afterwards.

"Now, copy what I did, then we can start thinking about swinging swords again."

Kaira flashed a wide smile and leapt into action. She bounced onto the balls of her feet, and then shifted her weight as she imitated her father - right foot forward, left foot back. Her posture was excellent. Aunt Elia had made sure of that. She held her head high with shoulders rolled back and relaxed, like a proper lady. She adjusted the grip of her hands on the sword and turned her body to the side to compensate for the position of her feet.

But his question took her completely off guard. Her mind went blank. Kaira wanted so badly to impress her father that the pure desire drove her thoughts straight out of her head. She was rarely shy or uncertain, yet suddenly she felt a twisting in her belly and a quickening of her pulse. She squirmed under his gaze.

"Er. Um. Maybe?" Her eyes brightened as a new idea bloomed in her mind. "Is it to protect my left side?" she asked. Then her brow furrowed. Wait, that didn't make sense. Sword strokes could just as easily go from right-to-left as left-to-right. Heat rushed to her cheeks. She looked up at Ravak with a slightly lost expression.

-----

Kaira giggled at the mental imagery of trying to eat food without a plate. As her father showed her how to move back and forth, she followed along, back and forth, stepping carefully and lightly. Her sword remained at a middle guard as she moved. Slowly, she brought her sword across as she stepped, trying to figure out how to move both her arms and legs in coordination.

Ravak smiled down at his daughter. It scared him and invigorated him, knowing how much she relied on her father for guidance. He was only human, yet she treated him like a legend from the stories. It wouldn't last. She was fast approaching an age that would put the fear of the Dark One in him. A few more years, and Kaira Darrow may be another name in the Novice Books, or his own ledger of trainees. Either would mean her moving out. That was what really scared him: being alone.

He snapped back to the present. There was a blushing beauty to be taken care of. "Nope, not really. Here, come here." As Kaira came nearer, he planted his feet together. "Now, I want you to give me a good shove." Grey-blue eyes looked up in brief confusion, then glee. Running up, she pushed against him hard, both hands hitting him on his stomach. With an "oof!" he staggered back, then had to drop into a crouch to catch Kaira. She evidently hadn't expected her shove to such a huge effect.

"Well done, Muscles," he joked.

“Sorry, Daddy,” said Kaira. She giggled and steadied herself against her father.

"No need to apologise, sunshine." He stood and then planted his feet in the guard position. "Now, I want you to try again. No running up, please." He grinned. "Just stand in front of me, and give it your all." The result was quite different this time. Again two hands pressed against his stomach, shifting about slightly when that had no effect.

After half a minute, he straightened up, pushing his daughter's backwards. "And that's why we stand like this. When you're fighting, you don't want to fall over. So when your feet like are like so, we're solid. That's why how you stand is important."

Kaira nodded solemnly.

"Shall we get onto the fun stuff now? Step back, and take up your sword." When Kaira was a safe distance away, he drew his own sword. "Now I can see that Uncle Dax has been teaching you some Forms already, but I don't start there. You want a proper lesson, right? Well, let's begin with some basic strikes."

Rav raised his Tower-forged longsword high above his head, then brought it swiftly down until the tip of the blade was at eye level. He went through it slowly for the first two demonstrations. "This is the Strike of Wrath, as it is called in Shienar. It has two goals. The first is to intercept a thrust or a cut coming towards you. The second is that it threatens your opponent." Rav watched his daughter's face to make sure she was following along. "When your sword stops, you want it pointed at their face. Your sword is going to want to come down further, towards their chest, but you've got to stop that. You are targeting their face, not their body, yeah?" The Gaidin demonstrated for a third time against an invisible opponent, very careful to make sure his weapon got nowhere within Kaira's reach. "Now you try. High above you, then come down and stop at their head. Keep the sword centred as you attack, as that will keep your blade clearly pointed at your opponent."

"Shall we get onto the fun stuff now?"

Kaira's face split into a wide grin and she nodded eagerly. She stepped back and watched with obvious fascination as Ravak drew his sword. Light, how she wanted to be just like her father! He was strong and confident and brave - everything she wanted to be and more. She rose her ter'angreal sword above her head in careful imitation and swung.

"Slowly," said Ravak. "Again."

Then he reached out with a hand, his golden dragon tattoo glimmering in the sunlight. She grimaced in confusion when he readjusted her motion and lowered her sword. Lips curled into a pout.

"Didn't you tell me to point my sword up around the head?" she asked.

"In real combat, you will have to adjust for your opponent's height," he said. "But right now, I'd like you to pretend that you are facing an opponent the same size as you. It will help your body learn the proper motion."

Kaira looked up at her father and nodded as understanding dawned. She had not yet hit her growth spurt and was smaller than most of his students. Again and again, she repeated the strike.

An idea came without conscious thought and she grinned mischievously. Before her mind could consider whether the idea was good or not, her body acted on impulse and she darted forward to Ravak's right. She stepped with her right foot, twisted on her toes in a pirouette and swung downward in the Strike of Wrath, leveling her weapon at Ravak's head. The ter'angreal wouldn't hurt him - she had poked, prodded, and stabbed her father many times and never left even a bruise - but she liked to keep him on his toes!

Thought vanished as the cool focus of the ko'di enveloped Ravak. Emotions and rogue thoughts fleeted to the edges of his mind as he reacted to the threat, Shienaran steel sliding out of the scabbard on his right hip. A silver arc parried the blade coming towards him with a ring of metal on metal. Something caught in one of the notches on his sword-breaker, and with a twist, the thin and light blade flew out from his opponent's hands. In the same fluid moment, his longsword slid back into its own scabbard, and he caught the slender sword at waist height.

"Not a smart move," he stated in a dispassionate growl. "Attacking the Master of Training without permission is a punishable offence." A growing storm front confronted the child before him. "Would you care to hazard a guess what the penance is?" Despite the moment of violence only just avoided, Ravak handed Kaira's sword back to her.

Kaira's face fell and she looked up at him wide-eyed. She tucked her hands and weapon behind her back as if she could sweep the previous moment away if only she hid her sword. "Please don't stop the lesson, Daddy," she said, contritely. She stared into his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to break any rules. I was just pretending."

"This isn't pretend, Kaira. This is what I do." The ko'di slipped away as Rav watched his daughter behind a mask of stone. "You asked for a lesson. Remember what I've told you of honour and duty? I fight not because it is fun, nor because I want to, but because I have to. In order to keep you safe. To keep everyone safe." A conciliatory smile appeared on his face. "Now if you want to have fun and play-pretend at sword fighting, we can do that. But if you want a proper lesson..." He stepped back, returning his sword-breaker to its scabbard. "...then show me again what you can learn."

Her father's words struck Kaira with sudden clarity. This isn't pretend. She had asked for - and received - a serious lesson. Really, it seemed that she had asked for more than she had bargained for. Yet she wanted it all. She thirsted for Ravak's attention and his knowledge. Encased within her innocence and the desires of youth, she still wanted to grow up just a little faster. Faster, faster! It seemed to her that her father knew everything, and she wanted to be just like him. To understand as deeply, to know as much, to be as wise.

And to do so, she had to take this seriously. A thrill shot down her spine. She nodded.

"I understand," she said, though her understanding was only partial.

She knew that her father fought for a greater purpose and that he spoke often of honor and duty. Sometimes he went away on long journeys for the Tower, but she never doubted his return. Of course he would return! His presence in her life was as constant and undeniable as the rising and setting of the sun. He always returned safe and whole. So what could she possibly know of war and sacrifice and the struggle against the Shadow? What had she ever truly suffered in her short, blessed life? All she saw was the strength of Ravak's arm and the respect of his students. All she knew was that her modicum of skill garnered her attention from adults like her Uncle Dax and made the lack of acceptance from other children easier to tolerate. All she felt was rising excitement when she learned something new, the flush of pride when she was praised, and the passionate drive of ambition when she made a mistake and was corrected.

Though transfixed under her father's stern gaze, there was no place in the world she would rather be. And that alone, whatever Ravak said, was enough for her to still think that fighting was fun.

Even lacking understanding, however, she desired very much to make her father proud. She watched as Ravak's sword-breaker disappeared back into its scabbard, sheathing those threatening teeth that had so easily wrested her blade out of her grasp. She returned his smile with a bright grin and eyes steeled with determination. Then she brought her own sword to a neutral guard position.

The lesson progressed rapidly from there. Ravak demonstrated different strikes. High strikes, like the Strike of Wrath, struck at the opponents head or neck. Middling strikes targeted the chest and torso. And low strikes aimed at the pelvis and upper thigh. He kept her moving, shouting out the strikes, and insisting again and again that she perfect her footwork and basic strokes. Again and again he spoke of having a solid foundation and of mastering the basics. Again and again and again and again. Her muscles ached for rest. She wanted to complain as he made her repeat the entire exercise for the tenth time because she had stepped just slightly out of balance. But then she bit back her tongue, remembering that she had asked for this. Light help her, this was truly a Very Serious Lesson!

Finally, they took a break for water against the shade of a nearby building. As she sipped from her waterskin, Kaira collapsed on the ground with a satisfied sigh. Her plaited braids were mussed from the exercise, and stray strands of hair stuck to her damp forehead. She blinked up at the sky and noticed that her father was outlined against the brightness of the day. He appeared to be a towering figure. She lifted an arm to prod at the sheath of one of his twin blades.

"When can I be as good as you?" she asked.

As soon as it was crystal clear that this was a lesson, Rav slipped back into the comfortable role of being a teacher. He could train a neonate and an expert, young or old. He wasn't unaware that Kaira was his daughter, nor the youngest person he'd ever trained, but he decided to expect no less from her than anyone else. He'd raised her himself, instilled her with his better values about duty and honour, service to the Grey Tower and the importance of its existence. Time would play out as it did, and Kaira could become a Gaidin in time, or an Aes Sedai, or go off and be her own woman elsewhere in the world. Whatever the outcome, there was no harm, and plenty to gain to be found, in teaching her how to protect herself. The Light shine that the day she was outside of his protection would be years off yet.

They sat against the east wall of the kennels around the time of the fourth bell after High. There wasn't a drop of sweat on his own brow, but Kaira looked like a Drin who'd just been tested for the first time. In a way, that was precisely what she was. She 'hefted' one of his arms up, and he moved as if to hug her, but instead she prodded at his longsword. "When can I be as good as you?" He cleared some of the matted brown hair from her forehead. She would have a bath after they were done here; there'd be no argument over that.

"Do you want to be?" he asked patiently. "I mean, I know you want to be, but you're young yet. You have plenty of time before you need to decide who you want to be when you grow up, and things happen." Kaira looked up at her father with a frown, her nose all scrunched up in confusion. "Okay Kaira, look out there." He pointed towards the Drin making their way from the Training Yards towards chores. "If you want to be like me, you need to become a Drin. That means up to five hours of practicing your sword every day. You'd have to do chores like the other learning ranks, and that's four more hours. Up before the sun raises, and in bed after the moon is high in the sky." He smiled down lovingly. "I think you could do that, one day. But the question is, do you want to do that. It also means you've got to move into a room of your own, with another Drin. You wouldn't be living with me any more." He flashed a grin. "Daddy can turn your room into a library. What'd'ya think?"

Five hours of practice. Four hours of chores. If she added another three hours for meals... Kaira made a face as she added up the time in her head. No time for playing. No time for drawing. No time for wiling away hours in the garden with Uncle Dax or lounging in the branches of her favorite tree. Was it the same for novices? They always did look so stressed.

Hmph. It really didn't sound too appealing. But then again, Ravak had gone through it. Surely she could too.

She laughed out loud at Ravak's suggestion of turning her room into a library. She was very familiar with her father's bookish tendencies, though she had never found the patience to stare down at the rows of words on paper.

"A library?! How dull! Of course you would want a place to put all of your books, but where would I sleep if I visited?"

Ravak grinned.

"I can probably fit you between the stories about brave heroes and beautiful queens," he said. "I reckon there would be enough space, just about."

"You can't stick me on a bookshelf! When I'm a Drin, I'll come bother you every day."

She swigged another mouthful of water. Then she clambered to her feet and stretched her arms up towards the sky. She hid a wince. Oh, her muscles will be sore tomorrow.

"Alright, I'm ready. What's next?"

"Next?" Ravak couldn't stop himself from grinning. "Weren't you listening, little one? Drin get four hours of chores, and this is one of those hours. So go on, hop along." He gestured towards the Warder Hall, and had to suppress a laugh from the look on Kaira's face. Eyes wide in disbelief stared back at him. "Come on, I'm not kidding. How are the floors kept clean when Drin and Ji'val are taking dirt from the yards inside all the time? They don't magically make themselves sparkle. You can help to wash the main foyer." He pushed himself up to his feet to loom over her, infinite patience sitting on his features.

Kaira’s expression went blank, before her mouth suddenly opened in a delighted grin. “Alright!” she said enthusiastically. She attempted to bounce to her feet, only to be hindered by tired muscles. Her wince was poorly hidden.

Rav waited until Kaira stood before cracking a wide grin. "I'm only joking!" She caught him by surprise sometimes, with what she was willing to do or not do. He had no idea where that trait came from.

Kaira yelped in confusion and pouted, though the corners of her lips twitched. “Daddy!” she cried.

He ruffled her hair, which only produced more sulking. "How about the gardens, little one?" That seemed to content her. Or at least, she made to turn towards the gardens, gripping on tightly to her sword.

As he led Kaira away, Rav couldn't help but make plans in his head. If Kaira really did want to become a Drin, he'd need to arrange something with the other Gaidin. Although he kept it well hidden and to himself, he did not enjoy treating her like another Drin. Because she wasn't just another Drin. She was his daughter - his only child. He couldn't do to her what he had to do to the other trainees to make them Warders.

He couldn't bear to hurt her. Was he doing her a disservice with his attempts to shelter her from the world? Perhaps. Yet there is enough pain and sorrow and suffering, he thought. There is enough of that without adding pain of his own. He was her father, not her teacher. He wanted to be a place of safety for her. The warmth that sheltered her from the cold, the light that pushed away the darkness, the voice that called her home.

The small hand that slipped into his distracted him from his thoughts.

"Daddy? My legs hurt," said Kaira.

He scooped her up in his arms. Oof, she was getting big. Her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Then let's go home," he said.