“Are you sure about this, Rodric Asha’man?” Fiona inquired, flexing her hands on her reins nervously as she forced herself to look the man in his one good eye. Rodric had pulled her from an early morning class without so much as an apology and brought her to the Citadel immediately after. She had spent the preceding three hours observing the Green and others of his Ajah, as well as Warders and other local battle leaders, confer about a recent invasion of Shadowspawn to the north. Now they were preparing to ride to battle and the Accepted still did not understand why she had been the one summoned.
“I can shoot as well as any soldier, but please believe me when I say I am not a strong channeler, and the only thing I do well is Heal,” she said carefully. And whatever I did to that bandit. She didn’t want to think about that. Not yet. Not ever!“At best I will be a hindrance, at worst a liability. With all due respect, I think I would be of better use preparing to receive the injured.” Despite her words some part of the small Andoran’s heart fiercely wanted to go with the company. She prayed silently that her desire did not show too much; there were so many others better suited than she!
The grizzled Asha’man gave her a shrewd look over the stem of his pipe. She had not expected him to be at home on a horse, but he sat his saddle as if he were born there, mace and all. “If I thought you’d be a flaming liability, I wouldn’t have bloody asked for you, girl,” he said. As usual, his voice sounded as if he had swallowed several bags of gravel. “By all accounts you have the luck of the bloody Dark One, so what is your concern?”
Fiona struggled to keep her face still. If only you knew! He could not hear the dice skittering and bouncing through her thoughts, and she had no intention of telling him. “You are risking an entire company of men on the fact that I have had some odd luck here and there?” she asked. She only had to fake her incredulous tone a little, and it deflected rather nicely, she thought, from having to think about her real fears.
“Some odd luck, is it?” Rodric asked in a profoundly try tone. Fiona opened her mouth, then closed it again, trapped in the older man’s one-eyed gaze. Smoke poured from his mouth before he spoke again. “I may not be the Captain flaming General anymore, but I look into every goat-kissing man or woman who has the balls to walk in and out the bloody Arches,” the Asha’man continued. “I look for certain...features, you might say.” She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flickering away to study her horse’s dark mane.
“You killed that boy Morgan.” The Andoran’s hands perceptibly jerked at the unexpected statement, only a lifetime of habit causing her to release the reins as she did so. “The Seanchan caught him, you couldn’t free him, so you killed him to save him from a fate worse than death. It took some flaming work to get that information; don’t insult me by denying it.”
Fiona wet her lips, then nodded slowly without looking up. “I did,” she whispered.
“You made it your personal crusade to end bullying in the yards. You are small, and yet you never hesitated to stop a fight, and you turned down help from on high when offered. You also managed to get home from your Survival Test on a broken leg, against all odds and without assistance.”
Fiona flushed, nodding silently. Compared to what had happened to Morgan, that particular series of events felt trivial, barely worth mentioning, and yet… Light, in both cases she had been terrified.
“You defied the M’Hael’s direct command and took your friends to find Zeen because you knew no one else could be spared.”
She hesitated a moment. Defying Jaryd’s command had been dangerous, and she had never yet openly admitted to doing so. Would it go poorly for her if she did? Lying to an Asha’man seemed like a bad idea, however, and Rodric did not seem the sort to use such a ruse to get a confession out of her so long after the fact. “Yes,” she said finally. “We could do nothing but watch anyway, and his life was at risk.”
“You saved his life, and Jaryd’s, by putting your own safety in jeopardy on multiple occasions- first facing multiple sul’dam and then a company of the Seanchan army.” That was an extreme oversimplification of events! She started to open her mouth, but he lifted his hand. “I know there’s more to it. It took some doing, but I know practically every step you took that day. That is, in essence, what you did, is it not?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice had grown even fainter and her head spun. Where was he going with all this?
“You faced a Bubble of Evil and Trollocs on your first foray to the Borderlands...on your feet and fighting.”
“Not without Asha’man Murdock’s assistance,” she said softly, her integrity insisting that credit go where it was due. “They were terrifying. I froze, and he had to wake me or they would have eaten us both.”
Rodric didn’t seem to acknowledge the correction. “When faced with bandits in the wilderness you taught your friends how to fight and continued to fight yourself, even when you had no reason to believe help was imminent.”
“They wouldn’t have been there if not for my stupidity!” she snapped, her chin jerking upward finally. “Morgan wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t asked them to go out with me, either!” She scrubbed at her eyes angrily. “I made stupid decisions, and people were hurt. An innocent man died. Because of me!”
The Green snorted. “People made their own decisions to follow you, Accepted Fiona,” he said. “You did not hold hot irons to their hands or blackmail them into joining you. You bloody asked and they bloody followed, because you know how to flaming inspire loyalty and lead once you have it.” Fiona stared at him, mouth half open. This is not at all how I expected this conversation to go! It occurred to her only then that for most of their preceding exchange he had not spoken a single profane word. Was that a measure of his sincerity, or a sign of a rehearsed speech?
“My contacts tell me you’ve been spending an awful bloody lot of time in the Infirmary; that you are considering the flaming Yellow Ajah,” the Asha’man continued. He kneed his horse closer, reaching across the intervening space to grip her shoulder in a gloved hand, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t flaming atone for one bloody bad decision by making another you will ruddy well regret for the rest of your life,” he told her. “I know those who belong in my Ajah. If that bloody list we just went over didn’t convince you- perhaps the Shadowspawn we’re about to fight will.”
He released her and straightened, facing forward with a grim smile on his ageless face. “Are you ready to shoot more Trollocs, Accepted Fiona? The Blight awaits.”
Shocked, bemused, and yet feeling oddly proud of herself, the Andoran gathered her reins once more. “As you wish, Asha’man,” she said with a slight smile. Oddly enough it wasn’t her past deeds, her future Ajah, nor the battle she currently faced that filled her thoughts, but rather laughing brown eyes and the tinkle of bells.
“I can shoot as well as any soldier, but please believe me when I say I am not a strong channeler, and the only thing I do well is Heal,” she said carefully. And whatever I did to that bandit. She didn’t want to think about that. Not yet. Not ever!“At best I will be a hindrance, at worst a liability. With all due respect, I think I would be of better use preparing to receive the injured.” Despite her words some part of the small Andoran’s heart fiercely wanted to go with the company. She prayed silently that her desire did not show too much; there were so many others better suited than she!
The grizzled Asha’man gave her a shrewd look over the stem of his pipe. She had not expected him to be at home on a horse, but he sat his saddle as if he were born there, mace and all. “If I thought you’d be a flaming liability, I wouldn’t have bloody asked for you, girl,” he said. As usual, his voice sounded as if he had swallowed several bags of gravel. “By all accounts you have the luck of the bloody Dark One, so what is your concern?”
Fiona struggled to keep her face still. If only you knew! He could not hear the dice skittering and bouncing through her thoughts, and she had no intention of telling him. “You are risking an entire company of men on the fact that I have had some odd luck here and there?” she asked. She only had to fake her incredulous tone a little, and it deflected rather nicely, she thought, from having to think about her real fears.
“Some odd luck, is it?” Rodric asked in a profoundly try tone. Fiona opened her mouth, then closed it again, trapped in the older man’s one-eyed gaze. Smoke poured from his mouth before he spoke again. “I may not be the Captain flaming General anymore, but I look into every goat-kissing man or woman who has the balls to walk in and out the bloody Arches,” the Asha’man continued. “I look for certain...features, you might say.” She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flickering away to study her horse’s dark mane.
“You killed that boy Morgan.” The Andoran’s hands perceptibly jerked at the unexpected statement, only a lifetime of habit causing her to release the reins as she did so. “The Seanchan caught him, you couldn’t free him, so you killed him to save him from a fate worse than death. It took some flaming work to get that information; don’t insult me by denying it.”
Fiona wet her lips, then nodded slowly without looking up. “I did,” she whispered.
“You made it your personal crusade to end bullying in the yards. You are small, and yet you never hesitated to stop a fight, and you turned down help from on high when offered. You also managed to get home from your Survival Test on a broken leg, against all odds and without assistance.”
Fiona flushed, nodding silently. Compared to what had happened to Morgan, that particular series of events felt trivial, barely worth mentioning, and yet… Light, in both cases she had been terrified.
“You defied the M’Hael’s direct command and took your friends to find Zeen because you knew no one else could be spared.”
She hesitated a moment. Defying Jaryd’s command had been dangerous, and she had never yet openly admitted to doing so. Would it go poorly for her if she did? Lying to an Asha’man seemed like a bad idea, however, and Rodric did not seem the sort to use such a ruse to get a confession out of her so long after the fact. “Yes,” she said finally. “We could do nothing but watch anyway, and his life was at risk.”
“You saved his life, and Jaryd’s, by putting your own safety in jeopardy on multiple occasions- first facing multiple sul’dam and then a company of the Seanchan army.” That was an extreme oversimplification of events! She started to open her mouth, but he lifted his hand. “I know there’s more to it. It took some doing, but I know practically every step you took that day. That is, in essence, what you did, is it not?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice had grown even fainter and her head spun. Where was he going with all this?
“You faced a Bubble of Evil and Trollocs on your first foray to the Borderlands...on your feet and fighting.”
“Not without Asha’man Murdock’s assistance,” she said softly, her integrity insisting that credit go where it was due. “They were terrifying. I froze, and he had to wake me or they would have eaten us both.”
Rodric didn’t seem to acknowledge the correction. “When faced with bandits in the wilderness you taught your friends how to fight and continued to fight yourself, even when you had no reason to believe help was imminent.”
“They wouldn’t have been there if not for my stupidity!” she snapped, her chin jerking upward finally. “Morgan wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t asked them to go out with me, either!” She scrubbed at her eyes angrily. “I made stupid decisions, and people were hurt. An innocent man died. Because of me!”
The Green snorted. “People made their own decisions to follow you, Accepted Fiona,” he said. “You did not hold hot irons to their hands or blackmail them into joining you. You bloody asked and they bloody followed, because you know how to flaming inspire loyalty and lead once you have it.” Fiona stared at him, mouth half open. This is not at all how I expected this conversation to go! It occurred to her only then that for most of their preceding exchange he had not spoken a single profane word. Was that a measure of his sincerity, or a sign of a rehearsed speech?
“My contacts tell me you’ve been spending an awful bloody lot of time in the Infirmary; that you are considering the flaming Yellow Ajah,” the Asha’man continued. He kneed his horse closer, reaching across the intervening space to grip her shoulder in a gloved hand, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t flaming atone for one bloody bad decision by making another you will ruddy well regret for the rest of your life,” he told her. “I know those who belong in my Ajah. If that bloody list we just went over didn’t convince you- perhaps the Shadowspawn we’re about to fight will.”
He released her and straightened, facing forward with a grim smile on his ageless face. “Are you ready to shoot more Trollocs, Accepted Fiona? The Blight awaits.”
Shocked, bemused, and yet feeling oddly proud of herself, the Andoran gathered her reins once more. “As you wish, Asha’man,” she said with a slight smile. Oddly enough it wasn’t her past deeds, her future Ajah, nor the battle she currently faced that filled her thoughts, but rather laughing brown eyes and the tinkle of bells.
