The Grey Tower

The Tarondred estate's garden had been the centerpiece of Caedal's life back in Cairhien. The flowers and trees from across the nation and beyond had been inviting and comfortable. The Grey Tower Gardens were neither of these things for Caedal. The Gardens were certainly beautiful but they were vast while the Tarondred Gardens were cozy, and the sights and scents of the greenery confused his senses. While he could certainly picture himself taking advantage of the tranquility here, he doubted it would ever feel like home to him.

Caedal hadn't come to the Gardens for rest and relaxation, however, despite the good such would do him after the whirlwind the past days had been. He hadn't been in the Tower for a full hour before he had been thrown into the thick of things and he was only just beginning to get his bearings. After days of being passed around by various Dedicated for classes on subjects far more eclectic than he could have imagined today was to be his first one on one meeting with one of the Asha'man.

It had only been a matter of minutes since Caedal had been caught in the halls by a foul-tempered Dedicated—looking even more in need of sleep than Caedal—and directed to come to the Gardens in lieu of his first class to meet with some Gareth Asha'man. He flexed his left hand absently as he wondered what specifically the Asha'man would be teaching him. Caedal hadn't been in the Tower long enough to know Gareth Asha'man's Ajah or even what that would mean in terms of teaching material. His thoughts darkened as he reflected on the comments from the Dedicated that had carried out his lessons until now, perhaps he's just going to ask me why I haven't been successful in seizing saidin...

Caedal fixed his gaze forward and cast those thoughts from his mind. He was not a child, to worry about things that he couldn't influence. Out of the corner of his eye, Caedal caught the approach of a powerfully built man with dark blond hair. The man wore a handsomely tailored coat similar to his own, though as the man approached he noticed the glittering pins on either side of his collar marking him as Asha'man.

"Light shine upon you this afternoon, Gareth Asha'man," Caedal said formally as he bowed, careful to avoid putting his ruined hand on display.

Caedal sighed in relief when it was revealed that this sort of mentorship was fairly common, and had nothing to do with his performance—or lack thereof—thus far. Perhaps he can help me with my issue... or perhaps he will declare me a lost cause, he thought to himself as he joined the imposing Asha'man in his stroll through the Gardens, effortlessly slipping into position—one step behind and to the side—as had been drilled into him.

If Gareth noticed Caedal's easy subservience he said nothing, continuing through the Gardens in silence. Perhaps he's waiting for me to ask some questions? Caedal's mind worked with difficulty, trying to decide how exactly to introduce his problems without betraying weakness. Soldiers were supposed to be strong, weren't they? Or would showing weakness strengthen his position somehow? Did his position even matter in the Grey Tower? Caedal was beginning to feel dizzy from all of the mental gymnastics and was thankful when Gareth stopped long enough to exchange some words of greeting with a passing Asha'man.

Rather than continuing forward Gareth turned to Caedal, almost as if he sensed his turmoil. Caedal's mind caught mid-thought and the words spilled out before he could even consider them. "I still can't seize saidin, I've tried and tried and I'm not getting anywhere. The Dedicated teaching my classes told me that seizing saidin was like a battle but it's more like drowning, or fighting some sort of sea creature and thendrowning, or maybe-" Caedal stopped mid-sentence to breathe and his face grew hot in embarrassment. "Gareth Asha'man," he added sheepishly, "I need help."

Caedal used the time it took to sit to settle himself—ensuring, of course, that Gareth was seated before him. He had half expected the Asha'man to formally reprimand him for his unseemly outburst, but instead he had detected... understanding in the large man's calm voice—at least he hoped it was understanding. He realized with a minor start that he had taken his seat to the Asha'man's right, with his ruined left hand hanging between him and his mentor. Caedal forced himself to slide his hand into his coat with careful slowness, hoping that the Asha'man wouldn't notice. Something flickered behind Gareth's eyes for a brief moment, but he made no comment, thankfully.

Taking one final breath to steady himself Caedal launched into his story, "Several months ago I was in the midst of one of my daily lessons—something to do with trade relations between Cairhien and Illian, I believe." Caedal paused for a moment to reflect before saying wryly, "Looking back on it, I believe I was only weeks from being married off by my uncle to some merchant's daughter...but I suppose that has no bearing on this story," he added, slightly bashful. "Near the end of the class, my uncle's steward fetched me to meet with an 'important guest.' I was led to one of the estate's many guest chambers—specifically the one that had last seen use with King Laman himself. Therein was an unfamiliar woman, Tairen if I had to make a guess. This woman wore a Great Serpent ring on her hand and in that hand was clutched a strange glass globe filled with swirling red smoke that seemed to swirl faster as I approached—a ter'angreal, I believe. The woman—who I know now was an Aes Sedai—glanced up at me and down at the globe several times before marching out of the room, cutting me off before I even had a chance to finish my introductions..."

Caedal paused, expecting the Asha'man to have questions for him, but Gareth simply motioned for Caedal to continue. "Well," he continued, after a few moments, "after that strange meeting I returned to my lessons, lessons I shared with some of my...nobler cousins—my uncle's legitimate children." Caedal considered going into more detail on those particular lessons, but the memories of their mocking, jeering faces convinced him otherwise. He eventually settled on saying, "I didn't do well in those particular lessons—swordplay and the like—I never did." Images rose to the surface of his mind unbidden. Overextending purposefully to take the hit he could have parried. Tripping over nonexistent rocks to fall before he could even make his move. Slumping down with fatigue before he could even break a sweat. The mantra of his youth filled his ears as he tried to shake the memories away. I have to be weak so I can be strong. I have to be weak so I can be strong. I have to be weak so I can be strong. I HAVE TO BE WEAK—

"I had to be weak so I could be strong," he murmured, raggedly. Caedal raised his eyes back to Gareth's, expecting them to have changed somehow, but they were the same as they had been, intent but understanding. Caedal sucked in a breath before launching into an explanation, "I could have been better than my cousins, I know I could have. It's just... it was beaten into my mind that I had to lag behind. I had to know my place—the bottom—and I had to reinforce that I belonged there. So I made foolish mistakes time and time again to let my cousins shine in my place, even to my final days in the Tarondred estate. I—" Caedal's face grew warm in embarrassment, "I know realize I have gone wildly off the initial topic," he said quietly, "my apologies, Gareth Asha'man.

"After my final lesson for the day, I was again approached by my uncle's steward, this time to meet with my uncle, the Lord Tarondred. He told me that our Aes Sedai guest had determined that I was a channeler, that I could become an Asha'man, and requested that I be sent to the Grey Tower. My uncle was only too happy to oblige and the next morning I was packaged up and pushed out the door with a token escort of Tarondred men that accompanied me to Hama Valon before returning," he said, finishing quickly, not wanting to risk more tangents.

A wave of relief passed through Caedal, he had worried that he had said something wrong. He spent a moment considering the follow-up question, thinking back on his experiences since arriving at the Grey Tower before he answered. "Well," he murmured eventually, "I feel the True Source only occasionally. Least often when I actively try to reach for it," he added. "The times I am able to successfully touch it are very—" ice cold needles in his mind, expanding infinitely; shards of glass/fire slashing/burning across his skin; the very fibers of his being twisting, twisting until "—painful. Both physically and," he shuddered, "otherwise."

Caedal exhaled loudly, settling himself before continuing on. "And that brief contact with the Source has only seems to occur when I have given up on the lesson at hand." He forced a smile—badly—and said, "Maybe the Aes Sedai was wrong. Maybe everyone here is wrong. Maybe I can't become an Asha'man." He looked down at his left hand and choked out, "Maybe I'm broken on the inside too."

Caedal reflexively sucked in a sharp breath when the older man nodded at his left hand. He vaguely remembered shaking the hand free of his coat moments earlier but for the moment he could focus on naught but memories. The scrape of dirt against his hand and wrist. The sight of a wheel, massive with nearness, rolling slowly but inexorably. But most of all he remembered the laughter of children. Laughter clear and cruel as broken glass.

Just as the influx of memories seemed poised to smother him they stopped. Caedal did not recall reaching out for the emptiness of the void, but he must have to have achieved this sudden calm. It was from this state that Caedal delivered his story, certain that to do otherwise would be to risk being overwhelmed once again.

"It was my first time visiting the city of Cairhien," he began slowly, carefully considering each word. "I was perhaps six years old at the time, and this was the first time that my uncle had asked my father and I to accompany him on one of these trips—believing that I was finally old enough to not cause a scene for him and his, perhaps." Caedal's expression remained blank, but his tone grew icy as he continued. "I remember not the House that hosted us in Cairhien, but the Lord of the House showed great interest in me for my heritage, going so far as to invite my father and I to take meals with him on occasion—I recall that he would call me 'Caed'... I liked that."

Caedal paused to take another breath, "It was not the Lord's fault, of course, he was only vaguely aware of my situation in House Tarondred and doubtless thought my cousins and I too young to partake in Daes Dae'mar regardless..." He shook his head slightly, "To put it mildly, the Lord's interest did not go unnoticed. My aunts and uncles fumed the entire length of our visit and eventually my father had to begin declining the Lord's invitations, fearing that any more would be one slight too many to bear for many of our House. It was at this point that my father sat me down and explained that sometimes to protect what you have you had to give up on having more... that I had to be weak to be strong," he added. "My father's words stuck with me for the rest of that visit and I made sure to defer even more than usual to other members of my House, and so the matter appeared dealt with. It wasn't until the long trek back to the family estates outside of Tremonsien that it became clear that matters most emphatically had not been dealt with.

"Our party was some days still from reaching home and we had made a stop alongside a stream to water the horses and stretch our legs when it happened..." Caedal's mouth grew dry and he swallowed, even the serenity of the void couldn't shield him completely from this. "I spotted the glint of something shiny—a dropped coin, perhaps—beneath one of the many baggage carts that remained to be unhitched from its horses and knelt down to reach for it when I was struck on the back of the head and collapsed in a heap, my hand still outstretched under the cart. I tried to rise several times but my ears were still ringing and the weight of several booted heels pressed me further into the dirt. Something roused the horses and—" the void wavered inside of Caedal but he continued on, "—they jerked the cart forward." Caedal did not elaborate on specifics of what followed, adding simply, "It was painful."

Caedal flexed his left hand, still held before him and focused in on the empty space where the index finger should have been, using it to pour his lingering emotions into. "I don't know who was involved, over a dozen of my cousins could have taken part but my father and I were... dissuaded from making inquiries."

With these words, Caedal finally released his hold on the void, confident that he could handle what came next. "So what do you think, Gareth Asha'man?"