The Grey Tower

“You need to see the Keeper of the Archives,” the old man turned back to his studies, scarcely hiding his irritation at the interruption. Fen might have said more, might have asked just who this Keeper was, but the old asha'man clearly was finished with the conversation, could it even be called one.

Keepers and Sitters, Ajah heads and M'Haels, Masters of this and Mistresses of that; you can hardly turn around in this place without bumping into a title! That old man, Rory something or other, had seemed to Fen Garlan to be the obvious choice to ask about the Brown Ajah. Instead, he now had to find out who and where this 'keeper' was. Flaming waste of time is what it was!

Fen made his way from the library to his room, muttering all the way, those he passed avoiding him as if he had the plague. No doubt it was the smell, the odor that seemed to be following him. Entering his room, a room he had visited only infrequently of late, he caught sight of himself in the mirror... the look of a madman. Long, greasy locks falling about his face, a face covered by a growth of beard several days old. His jacket, rumpled and food stained, the result of too many nights spent in the library. And the odor! If he looked a madman he smelled a beggar. When last had he bathed? It certainly wouldn't do to seek out this Keeper looking as he did. Definitely a bath and shave were in order.

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Fen adjusted the the silver sword pin on the collar of his best black jacket and admired himself in the mirror. Keeping the beard had been a wise choice he decided. It lent an air of maturity previously lacking in his appearance. The hair was trimmed but still long, as was the style in parts of the Westlands. In fact, he might even be considered handsome if not for his nose, that asymmetrical appendage that had caused him so much grief in his childhood. A gift from his Saldean mother, it made him an object of ridicule at the hands of the children of his Altaran village. But that was in the past, gone and, well, not quite forgotten.

He checked his image one more time before exiting his room. The mad look of earlier was gone, thank the Light. Perhaps he wasn't going insane, perhaps his dream mistress truly existed. And yet, after guiding him here, showing him weaves, leaving instructions, she had suddenly vanished. Fen had not dreamed of her in weeks. They said the madness that overtook male channelers was no longer a threat, yet he questioned his reality. It was for this reason he had abandoned all else and spent all his time in the library, researching, reading tomes both ancient and modern, attempting to learn as much as possible about those called the Forsaken. He was positive the Mistress was one of that party, if she existed at all, but which one?

As he made his way through the halls and towards the stairs which, he had been told, would take him to the Keeper's office, he wondered again about his sanity. The last he had dreamed of her she had instructed him to remain a Dedicated for a while, to blend in, become almost invisible, and to seek out the Black Ajah. How was he to do that bloody thing? Did they even exist? If so, they certainly wouldn't go about advertising themselves, nor could he. The whole blasted thing was an impossibility!

No, his decision was better. Forget about this woman of his dreams, seek to pledge to the Browns, and spend his life in study. After all, he had always loved to read, the isolation of his childhood had contributed at least that one positive aspect to his character. He still maintained a deeply buried desire to become a dreadlord. That could still happen. Research, Fen, research!

So entranced was he in these thoughts Fen barely realized he had reached his destination. Hesitantly he knocked on the office door and was told to enter. As he made to do so surprise and recognition stopped him in his tracks.

“Murdock?” for Fen immediately recognized the thin, morose looking figure behind the desk. Memory of his conversation with the man, then but a relatively newly arrived soldier, flashed through his mind. By the Dark One's toenails but he had been an ass that day, trying to appear mysterious yet knowing. Would the man remember?

Stumbling a bit as he tried to regain his composure, Fen blurted “I've come to ask about the Brown Ajah. I was told you were the man to seek. But, call me a wooden-headed buffoon, I was not expecting that man to be... you!”

Murdock Mather Life as a Keeper was not always exciting, but it was constantly busy. The Brown found that even with his finely arranged system of doing things, he always had a pile of papers to attend to, and that at some point he had become a glorified secretary to some big bumbling Green who he doubted could even hold a pencil, never mind write a coherent sentence. Keep your head down and get on with it, the man thought to himself, but it was difficult. He had little reason to at this point, as his latest setbacks in his own research had left him completely lacking. No signs of Giselle, no respite in spite of what had been promised to him.

It was starting to make him rather angry, something Emmond might have picked up on in the bond. Not that Murdock cared for what he thought. Sometimes he just wanted to grip that small bud of consciousness that was the former Grey and squash it between his hands until all that was left were the screams of Elia and that foolish baby...

“Murdock?”

The man snapped out of his irritated reverie to look at the man who had interrupted him, finding that he dimly recognised the voice if not the appearance of the fellow before him. Murdock had spoken to a great many people, had been his own man as an Asha'man for a while, and generally had little interest in anything outside of his research and the people immediately appropriate to it, so one could not blame him for failing to properly recognise a Dedicated he had one drank with. The fact that the man had referred to him by name, with some sense of familiarity, did tug at his memories as he thought do I know this fellow? but alas, a black coat was a black coat right then.

The man attempted to recover, adding “I've come to ask about the Brown Ajah. I was told you were the man to seek. But, call me a wooden-headed buffoon, I was not expecting that man to be... you!” This made Murdock's eyebrows lift.

"Did you not think me suitable for a position of research or authority?" he asked, his voice low and soft like a finger drawing across a blade, too careful to draw blood. "I can be asked about a number of things, Fen." The name came to his tongue just in time, and the Brown was grateful for that. The beard was new, relatively speaking, and Murdock had forgotten the finer points of the man's features, but they weren't things he particularly cared to remember either so he took them back in with a humble acceptance of their renewal in his mind. "The Grey Tower is many things, not all of them good, but it has been good to me so far." He vaguely recalled a sense of dissatisfaction in their conversation before, but not the exact details. Just that Fen hadn't been all that thrilled, and Murdock hadn't been either.

"So you want to know about the Brown Ajah. Then take a seat and let's get talking." The Brown didn't sound very interested as he finished up writing his notes and set his things aside on his neat and tidy desk, but his dark eyes swivelled to the Dedicated's and it was clear he was now paying attention. Normally he looked as if he was thinking of something else, so settling his eyes on someone was often more uncomfortable for them due to its rarity. "Are you interested in research? Are you looking to further your knowledge of a particular subject, or perhaps to go exploring and finding out new things about new places? There's more to the Brown Ajah than books, though those are rather important as well."

Taking the proffered seat, Fen composed his thoughts before answering. True, he had not expected such a lofty seat to be held by a man he had known only as a Soldier. But, then, did he really concern himself with the politics of the Tower? How long had he holed himself up in the library, caring for nothing outside his research? For all he knew, the M'Hael and the Amyrlin Seat could have exchanged occupants several times while he was obliviously pursuing his own fanatic quest.

As the Keeper's gaze bore into him, Fen recalled an uncomfortable feeling from their first, and only, meeting. What was it about this Murdock Mather? He had seemed old for a Soldier, Fen recalled thinking that at the time. And he had played with a ring, had that been significant. He thought perhaps since the man was from Far Madding his abilities might have developed late. Did it matter? Fen wasn't here because of Mather, he was here to find out just what advantage the Brown Ajah might provide.

“Well... er... what do I call you? Keeper? Asha'man? Your excellency?” he sniggered at the last, Mather didn't strike him as the type to care much for titles, “To answer you as succinctly as possible, research, both here and out in the wide, wonderful world!” Wonderful? Right.... “I have a particular interest in the so-called Forsaken. The more we can learn about them, the better chance we have to defeat them, if they ever resurface.” Oh, a bon mot! 'Resurface'! Fen, you are too clever by half!

“I have spent weeks making use of our library and it was there that I suddenly received the inspiration! The Brown for me! So, what do I have to do, hmmm?” Fen folded has hands neatly in his lap and awaited the Keeper's reply.

"You can call me Asha'man, or Keeper." Murdock was not in the mood for jokes, and as much as he didn't particularly mind what title was used normally, he did have a front to uphold when he was sat at his desk receiving guests. It was unprofessional to have casual acquaintances visit him at his place of work. Murdock had no trouble telling a man who used to be superior in rank to him, what to call him - Murdock had always been an old soul.

The Chosen were a curious subject for a man to study, but Murdock wasn't too concerned. He felt like Fen was too frivolous in his response to take his research very seriously at all, though the proof of that would be in said documentation. He was quite sure that the Chosen would not appreciate someone looking too deeply into their work. Burn it all, Murdock was going to have to do something about it, wasn't he? Though as long as said information never left the books Fen found, was there really any harm in letting him research it? Well actually, yes. Any Brown worth his salt knew that information was a powerful thing. He was going to have to put the man off or send him on a wild goose chase.

"Studying the Forsaken is a thankless, difficult task." Murdock was entirely serious as he spoke, "the simple fact of it is that not much is known, and that which we do know, is shrouded in mystery and half truths so who knows how accurate it truly is?" Murdock was pretty sure one of the smarter Chosen actually had books written on them intentionally, giving out false information. It was all rather clever actually. "Are you sure you are not more inclined to go and, I don't know, set fire to everything in a passionate rage of justice? Or would you rather hand over the map to the Greens and point them in the right direction?"

Maybe Fen would change his mind in a few weeks and move on to something else. If not, Murdock could take a look at his work and see if there was anything the Black Ajah needed to do before he came across anything too useful. Ugh. As if Murdock didn't have enough to do without stalking Dedicated who couldn't mind their own business. A lofty sentiment, to think that books would help bring down the Chosen. Murdock almost envied his optimism.

“So, that is it, uhm, Keeper,” An eyebrow arched involuntarily. The man had not told him what he should do, or how he should proceed with the studies he had already pursued. Instead, Murdock seemed to assume Fen would either foul the entire business with his incompetence or else allow others to do the actual physical investigating. Ha! But then, how could the Keeper know of Fen's true intentions. Justice was the least of his concerns, unless, that is, one could consider it justice if Fen Garlan gained the power to take vengeance upon those who had wronged him in the past, and that was a bloody long list indeed. He was positive that, if only he could locate his Mistress, she would reward him handsomely.

Fen peered over his steepled fingers, “So you have no qualms about my research? Would it be something that might make my acceptance into the Ajah more likely? Might it even help me fulfill a requirement for advancement?” Not that he was overly concerned about the latter. After all, hadn't he been told to remain a Dedicated for the foreseeable future... at least until he made contact with the Black Ajah? And, if his research did somehow lead him closer to the Chosen, perhaps that would be the trigger that would bring the Black Ajah to him.

There was a moment where Murdock just looked at the Dedicated, heavy eyebrows raised ever so slightly, expectantly. What did the man want from him? Some validation, a pat on the head, a 'well done you're nosy enough to be a Brown' sweetbun? If that was it, then that was it. Murdock had more to do than indulge some curious Brown aspirants, wasn't this what they had a Library for?

The Keeper just made a small snorting noise at his next questions. Validation it was, and Murdock had no time for it. But regardless of whether he was interested or not, in the interests of the Black Ajah and their safety he had to keep an eye on this. He just didn't have to be all too happy about it. "If you want to chase shadows and try to catch fog in your hands, then by all means attempt it. You are not the first, nor will you be the last, to spend your time doing such. Why would I have any qualms? It is of no interest to me what you research." Here the man gave a small sigh, breathing through his nose and giving the Dedicated a flat look.

"It isn't what you study," he said slowly, "but your passion, your interests, your way of working, that do the talking for you. If this is something you are truly invested in, then that is what you must show the Aes Sedai and Asha'man. Not me personally. That being said, if you like, I can take a look at your findings. The Forsaken are a delicate subject and approaching this appropriately is no small feat. I am willing to assist and make sure you put yourself in good standing, rather than jeopardise your chances of being Raised." Sigh. That seemed the only way he could keep an eye on Fen and his findings, and report them to the Black Ajah. What happened after that, who could say? Murdock was only doing his job, well more than his job really, as a messenger. He was only interested in his own research, not that of some idealistic boy.

Though given the discussion that they had upon first meeting, perhaps there was more than just research on the Chosen that Fen could offer to him, and the Black Ajah as a whole. He would gauge his next move on the information Fen provided for him.