The Grey Tower

As he arrived back at the Farshera Estate, his mount's breath misting the air around him, his own breath also sending up a cloud or two, he laughed to himself at his own foolishness. He knew that he should be more serious, he had returned to deal with affairs of business and housekeeping, hardly the easiest of tasks. Still he liked the idea of his friends returning to their room and finding parcels for them, parcels he had left upon their tables without telling them and then leaving for Arafel without telling them either. They had been busy somewhere and he had needed to leave. Not the best of circumstances but at least he had managed to get the items which he had wanted to get.

Klarick has proven quite useful hasn't he Alrim? Never thought you'd be running a business or having a partner for it did you? Strange times he told himself as he set about dismounting and rubbing the horse down, making sure it had food and water.

The house had been prepared for him and Klarick had made sure guards had watched it every day to make it safe. Alrim still hadn't figured the man out fully but his fondness for the father and now for Alrim was a small mercy. He hadn't the first idea of how to be a merchant. Or how to invest coin. He had never really thought much past the stealing it phase. Now he was making it and more than he would ever have use for. Far from a lordling but more than he had ever had before. Even had he started a family - and he saw no sudden children looming - he'd be comfortably well off. Pushing the door open, forcing it slightly as it had stuck from rare use, he pulled off his newly acquired Fancloak and draped it casually upon a chair.

"Home sweet home" he whispered to himself, still finding it difficult not to see the ghosts of the past, of his family playing games or having the bitterest of feuds. He smiled sadly and set about lighting the fire and from that what candles and lanterns he required for now.

He settled into a comfortable, high-backed chair before the fire and read the note he had been left by Klarick. It was partially business that needed to be dealt with but mostly it was warmest greeting and came along with a bottle of brandy and a case with what he had asked for. He poured himself a drink and flipped open the case to see the contents dance in the light from the hearth. A fiddle, a rough and half-bettered one, a relic from another time. How in the Light had the man found it, he wondered. Still, it was most assuredly the one he had asked him to look for. Another ghost but at least he had the remnant from another life to inspire fond memories.

Patricia's fiddle. Sold so long ago now but he had so enjoyed his youngest sister's playing and had a mind to learn it himself. He had been given some lessons many years ago and knew the basics but then again he had so much time now and little to do with it. He closed the box and looked into the fire as he sipped his drink, slowly working up the courage to look at the item above, in its wall mounting.

"Home sweet home..."
******************* Back at the Grey Tower Fiona and Nate would find parcels in their quarters whenever they returned to them. Each with a note:

Nate

Spoiler: show

Brawn,

I am sorry that I have not spent much time with you since the Citadel siege. I am no longer angry and I am sorry for being so. You were brave, if also your usual foolish self. I just wanted you to know that I have not intentionally avoided you. I have gone home to oversee the Farshera holdings temporarily. Please find enclosed some gifts from me. I have no use for any money made, never did. I hope that you like them.

Alrim

Spoiler: show

A set of gauntlets [insert fave material here] with Mayene sigil motif...thingy, one leather shoulder guard, one war hammer holster thingy, pair of leather boots, a bottle of oilfish oil (yay taste of Mayene), two sets of dark blue clothing of [insert favourite fabric and cut here] and a steel foraging knife with shaped wooden handle and the words 'Brawn' on the handle, with sheath. Additional note on the armour - 'If you're going to jump over walls at least wear these, for my sake'

Fiona

Spoiler: show

Princess,

I know you will probably have some choice words for me for the name. I am quite far away though so I should be safe. I think. You have been kind to me, beyond anything that could have been asked. You have a good heart and I can never repay you for that but please accept some small tokens. I know you don't see it that way but you were always too fierce to tell you so. I wanted to thank you, for being you. Don't ever change.

Alrim

Spoiler: show

Riding gloves trimmed with fur and with roses surrounding a lion on the back of the hand, green [insert fave lining] cloak, a most stabbity steel dagger and sheath, fine crafted quiver filled with Arafellin arrows (not necessarily with bells on), one Book - Collection of Cultural Observations of the Kingdoms, pair leather boots, two green dresses and shoes [insert favourite cut, embroidery, fabric, etc], one set of fancy dice and cup. Additional note attached to the cup - 'You won last time'

It was morning as he approached the tavern's door, one of the largest in Shol Arbela though not the most popular. That was more down to the location and the patrons than for lack of effort or service. He looked up at the sign as he fingered the hilt of the blade which stuck up over his right shoulder. The dreaded item. The beloved weapon. His father's sword. Or, more precisely, the family sword. He had never been told its origin, not the real story, and all he had to go on was family hearsay and the fact that the pommel had a well worn engraving of a two roses crossing a bear. Perhaps one day he would look into it, he reasoned as he pulled the Fancloak closer around him and looked up at the sign.

The Rose's Thorn

An apt name given that it had the strongest drink in the city. He pushed open the door and stepped through into warmth. Few patrons were around at this time of the morning but the ones that were went momentarily silent as they looked at him. Some knew him and turned away with scorn, though softer than before. Gaidin commanded respect wherever they were. The rest merely looked at him with interest, fingering the rims of their cups as they tried not to seem as if they were looking at him.

"Alrim Farshera! My boy!" came the warm greeting of the owner Klarick as he hung up his apron and stomped around the bar to pick him up in his spine crunching hug, "and a Gaidin now! I told your father you'd d it. I did. I said to him 'Havrick, he's got the potential'. I did!" he all but overwhelmed Alrim with words as he steered him to a corner table, the largest and most sheltered he noted.

"Larissa! Light blind me lass where do ye be?"

"Yes Klarick?" she said from behind him and startling him.

"Preserve me lass don't sneak up on an old man now! Ale and food lass, come come now. And that ledger, you know the one don-"

"I know, it will be done" she shook her head and eyed Alrim with a small blush to her cheeks before vanishing to do as bidden.

In short order they were both seated with steaming food upon a platter before them and a mug of stout ale to match. Klarick was thumbing tobacco into his pipe and thumbing his moustache as he opened the ledger and muttered to himself as he flipped the pages. A small bag had been put on the rough table top too and Alrim had the vague wish that Larissa had stayed to sit upon hi lap and pass the time but he was not so lucky. He let his thoughts wander as he picked at the food and sipped his ale. Business required a level head after all and he didn't want to let what little respect he had gained since his last trip to Arafel to slip away through his inebriation.

"Took my advice then lad?"

"Sorry, what?" he blinked and focused upon Klarick once more.

"Family blade. Good and strong it is. Seen more years than the lives it's taken I'd wager" he pointed the stem of his pip at Alrim's shoulder.

"I almost didn't. Felt...wrong. I've not earned it"

"Nonsense lad. You're more fighter than there's been for generations in the Farshera. Hope it bites back at the Shadow for their names," the man nodded and looked sad suddenly, looking away and blinking back tears.

Alrim put his hand upon the man's shoulder.

"Damned shame. Good man....good man"

"Yes he was"

Silence for a few moments as Klarick puffed away and drew hismelf together again, he had known Alrim's father for years and clearly the death and grief still weighed heavily upon him. How many years had they spent every week haggling and talking together? How many visits back and forth? How many adventures? Alrim couldn't begin to understand and that saddened him deeply. That a family friend would have had a deeper relationship with his father than Alrim had had. No resentment, just sadness.

"Leave your lass behind did you?" the words cut through his thoughts.

Lass? Oh...must mean Fiona he told himself

"She isn't my lass Klarick. Just a friend and a good one at that"

"Shame, pretty one she is. Not getting younger you know, rebuild the line you know an-"

"Peace Klarick. I can barely deal with the estate let alone anything else" he stopped the conversation before it could get much further though his reddened cheeks were clear enough and the man laughed uproariously. and dabbed at his eyes.

"Business Klarick" he reminded him tersely.

"Ah yes lad....business. Now, few matters to think on first lad. Funny enough it's about dresses and..."

Alrim was rubbing his temples as he sat at the table and tried for the umpteenth time to wrap his mind around it all. It was numbers to him, scratching upon a page of parchment that may well have added up but went beyond the actual page. Klarick had been trying to teach him but he had never had much of a head for numbers. Sweet talking a better price he could do. Light preserve him he could even smile and be affable to a complete bastard if it was required. Bt number and ledgers? He shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

""So those numbers there are the outgoings, right?"

"That's right lad, told you that before now"

"And we want them to be less than the incoming?"

"True"

"But they are"

"Possibly, possibly. But you want to always try and get them down lad, never too low in this game"

"And you want the incoming high as possible?"

"True, means more coin to re-invest. More to keep. Profits lad, profits"

"And we do that by cutting wagons and handlers?"

"Not yet lad, getting ahead of yourself. Only do that if you're desperate and no other way. Those wagons be what makes you the incoming. They go down that goes down. Bad business that"

"So..," Alrim continued doggedly, clearly trying to grasp at the previous instruction, "we want new...markets? Things that are cheap but...not currently sold by many round here?"

"Possibly. But don't forget the tra-"

"Trading, yes. Don't need to buy goods, can trade for them. So..."

"So if we take ice peppers from-" Klarick encouraged him gently.

"Saldea. Then we can...trade them...in Andor for lots of fabrics..."

"And?"

"Bring them back here...where you have tailor friends who will turn them int dresses"

"And?"

"Triple the value invested and sell them"

"For?"

"Half stake of sale for us?"

"That's my boy! Good lad. Bit slow but we'll get you there. All told that scheme'll net up some pretty gold to do it again and again...until the prices fall. Even after paying the wages and upkeep. Then something else"

There was a silence for a while as Alrim tried to process the logic and the pattern. Tried to relate it to something that he found familiar. He had always learned by doing rather than being told. Had always thought in terms of tricks and things like that. Schemes Klarick had said and that resonated inside his skull and bounced around until it hit something of an old friend. He scowled and turned it around until it fit enough for him to grapple it properly.

"So it's like a trick? We turn something into something else. Like we're turning a glass stone into a diamond for someone. And sell it to them. For ten times what it's worth?"

"Now where'd you ever get an idea like that lad?" Klarick flicked his grey braid over his shoulder and puffed upon his pipe as he leaned back into his chair.

"Long time ago. I got kicked out remember? Used to do many things"

"Just as long as you don't sell dodgy goods lad. Reputation is everything. Yer father made coin not because of the selling. He made it because people trusted him to buy from him. Trust lad. Everything. You can turn proper goods into whatever proper goods you want but they got to be proper. No fake ice peppers or passing linen off as silk eh?"

Alrim nodded but he was satisfied that at least he was starting to get the gist of it.

"But that's enough business for one day lad. Never did think you'd be taught everything in one day and like as not it'll take years to perfect it. Now...I got something else for you now. Something a bit more interesting"

It had been two days since he had spoken to Klarick last, he had been in Arafel for almost a week now. They had thrashed out more details whilst he had tried to teach Alrim about being a merchant. He wasn't sure why he wanted to know. Perhaps, he reflected as his mount kept up its walk, it was a deep desire to try to know his father. To understand him and somehow keep part of him alive. That had been why he had asked the man to get the fiddle too. A few other trinkets served for his mother and other sisters. As for Klarick, he assumed the man kept his old friend alive by forging a similar relationship with his son - Alrim.

It might be enough reason to last until he closes his eye too. What I do then...cross that bridge... he told himself as he eyed the landscape, he was close now.

Old haunts, old memories, they never really died. They found ways to live on in others. He was beginning to see that now and each day hammered it home to him ever more deeply. He heard them before he saw them, the little job Klarick had asked for his help with. Boisterous youths, singing and drinking, probably attracting Shadowspawn from the Blight itself with the racket. As he dismounted and secured the reins of his mount to a sturdy tree he did the final check, just in case he was missing something. Then he breathed deeply and sighed it out slowly and made his way through the brush, cloak tight around him.

Coming to the edge of what passed for cover he crouched down and simply watched for a little while. As he did so the past flooded back and even smaller moments he had thought lost to his mind forever flickered light candle flames within. There was Jasper, scuffling with Matrim and Cook often as not. Fingers was sat just there...no there...and always doing that knife thing he liked to teach them. Made a lot of coin he did though he had so many scars you couldn't see skin on his left hand. Isabel the other side, usually telling a story. Sometimes she played her flute. Garret...he still couldn't think of him without anger. They had fought so often, had clashed over everything from women to wine. And finally, the ever lovely and irrepressible Olive. Not her real name, her skin colour. How many night had they spent in each others arms before the end? He could see them all there, as if he had been outside of his body all those years ago. It flickered, faded and was replaced by the new.

"All the old faces...gone now. Mere memory. Might be the only one left alive and free. Sad...isn't it Alrim?" he asked himself as he brushed away the small trail of tears he hadn't known he had made. He had loved them, Olive especially, "right...might as well get started"

With that he stood and approached the fire, pushing his cloak back over his shoulder and holding his arms up as they finally noticed him and start to fall over each other and looked to scatter.

"Run for it!"

"Whoa! Easy...easy now children. I'm not here to harm you"

"We ain't children! And how comes you got that fancy cloak?"

"Shut it! It's like them stories. Aes Sedai be near I bet you anything"

"How much?" Alrim asked the lass with a smile and she went to answer but instead her mouth opened and shut as she calculated.

They had frozen now. This wasn't how such things were supposed to go. He knew, he had lived it before. He'd have been just as puzzled.

"For what?" she managed finally.

"For the bet. I'd take it myself, I am alone so I'd easily win"

"You're lying"

"Could be, could be, but then if you thought I wasn't you'd have run. I should know, I used to sit by that fire"

This clearly confused them further and they looked at each other to see what they wanted to do. All the time Alrim had been stepping slowly, gently forwards until now he was perhaps a few arms away from them and could feel the fire's heat ever so slightly. He waited patiently, arms still up.

"What you here for then?" another, a lad with chocolate hair, asked him suspiciously.

"I am here," he let one arm fall and take his pack of cards from his pocket and they watched him as he fanned them out neatly, "to give you the choice I never had"

His opening gambit had not, strictly speaking, been an honest one. He had had the choice, he just hadn't known it. It took him years of failure, roguish dealings and eventual reform at the hands of the Grey Tower to peer back in time and see just how wrong he had been. Klarick had asked him to stop the current youth from doing the same, to give them the opportunity to get where Alrim was but several years earlier. At east they had let him approach and hadn't fled. Over the course of an hour or so he had managed to at least ingratiate himself.

"Wait...wait...waitwait!"

"Too late"

The thudding of the knife tip upon the cracked log was heard alongside the crackling of the fire as they watched in silence. He started slow at first, getting the rhythm and spacing just right, is hand atop a younger lad's and performing the game he had been shown and known to dabble in. Between the spaces of the hand - the key was the angle at which the tip came up and then down. Cutting yourself was easy to avoid if you had the knack. Speed was just a trick for the braver. The lad shouted his fear as the dagger blurred and then slowed, the pitch of his voice slowing and deepening with it until it was done.

"And he used to do that? Every night?"

"Oh yes, made a lot of coin from it. No one bets money more than someone who is willing to risk themselves to earn it"

"Teach us!"

"I showed you, but that wasn't the point. The point was to show you what you could do. Imagine that speed and precision, but this time aimed at something better. Fighting the Shadow. You could even use it to be the quickest and best stitcher in Arafel.

He was trying to give the sort of advice Natlya had given him, to get their minds to wrap around the idea that they could do what they had always done, just differently. Use what talents thy had for a higher purpose. He had performed card tricks and picked their pockets and told them that such dexterity could be used as tavern performers. The story tellers could have been Gleemen. The stealthy could have been trackers for the army. One was a delightful cook and could have gone anywhere to develop it. At the beginning two of the lads had tried to fight him off and had shown enough spirit that they could have been Drin if they'd return with him.

All had been met with snorts of derision and a refusal to understand. It was frustrating, talking to his younger self. He was beginning to understand just how patient his father had been. How much he had put the man through. It filled him with the deepest of sorrows.

"Still don't see what they'd want in us. We just tried to do those things and we'd be caught and locked up for we've done already. No point. Besides, we gots freedom and fun"

"And drink"

"And tricking them...makes you feel..." one of the girls shivered. He knew the high of which she spoke.

He threw up his hands and raked his fingers back through his hair, staring into the fire, lost in the depths of his thoughts. Silence reigned and he couldn't be bothered to breach it at first. He wasn't sure if anything he said would make a difference. If they would even try. How could he judge them? Had he not done the same at their age? He exhaled slowly through his nose and his forehead came to rest upon the backs of his hands, clasped between his knees.

"We have the bet lives anyway. Normal life, boring"

"Do you?" he asked them collectively, softly but cutting through their words, "do you have the best life? I used to think so, now look at me. Do you know what I learned, when everything is said and done? I learned that the only thing you will have if you carry on is loss. Loss and self-destruction"

"Oh come on Alrim, listen to us-"

"No. You listen to me. Remember Fingers?" he waited for their muttered confirmation, "well he ended up dead in an alley because he get too much coin off of the wrong group"

"Yeah but that's just one no-"

"Jasper? Matrim? Cook? They fought so many bouts in the fighting ring their heads were never right after. One never got up off of the floor after being knocked out once. The other two...they went looking for new towns. Never saw them again"

They were silent then.

"Isabel did well for a time. She played beautifully. Even taught some I think. She got into a bit of a fix whilst running from guards. Trampled by a horse. She lived but her hands were so broken...never played again. Garret got caught robbing and beating, still think he's alive but never found out what became of him"

"And Olive, my dearest Olive. She got disowned like me but her parents were crueller. She begged for scraps and lived in rags. I found her in the end, looked after her best I could but she was half-starved and illness was in her. She gave me my cards, she taught me the tricks I know. She's buried near here" he trailed off, he realised he had tears once more.

"I loved them all, even the idiots. They were my family. And what did we get, in the end? We had some good times but now they are gone or I will never see them again. That's what you have to look forwards for. Maybe you're right," he said as he pushed himself up and rubbed at his face, "and maybe you'll do better. But those before us didn't. And I'd wager those before them didn't either"

"World is filled with have's and have-not's. I hope you decide to be the right side of that truth. I never had one of the old guard come to tell me to be better. If I had I might be a better person for it. If you change your minds find Klarick in the The Rose's Thorn"

"Wait!" one of them stated as he walked away from the fire.

"No. The Wheel does not wait for your choosing. You must make the choice. All of our names are scratched into the wall behind you. Do you want to be like them? Your choice" he told them in parting before wrapping his cloak around him and slipping away to find his mount in the gathering gloom of the evening.

Another two days had passed since he had talked to the rebellious youth, had tasted that bitter medicine that seemed to only come with age and a sense of the irony of all things. He had taken the time to begin learning once more the instrument that he would try to keep the happy memories alive with. He was far from good with it but he had managed to remember enough that the notes came without screeching and rasping at the very least. He had more time now than he had ever expected himself to have and he would use that.

He had reflected, also, that what he had thought was a callous act of bitterness from his father - his exile - was likely an attempt to save his only son. He had run with the scamps and thieves himself, had Alrim's father, and had gotten out before the judgement had been rendered. As time passed and he thought more upon it he knew that had he not been sent away he too would have died. Or been broken beyond repair. He owed his father thanks and had spent some time sat at the tree they had played on when he had been but hip high, talking to the ghost that was no longer there.

It had helped, if only slightly. He had cried too, more even than his first trip back to Arafel. He had wailed and moaned and gnashed his teeth. Still they had not come back. He had gotten so drunk one evening that he had regretted it the next day. Both for the hangover and for the slight madness he had felt seeping into him, flickers upon the wall and in the corner that he felt sure were people, standing there and staring at him. It had passed of course but he had felt the weight of the place bearing upon him until he wondered if he would still breathe.

"And yet it makes no difference" he told himself as he made his was through the streets of Shol Arbela once more, towards The Rose's Thorn.

He wondered if he had just condensed everything into a handful of days. He had not really had much time to grieve initially and then came the siege of the Citadel, the arguments, the scare seeing of his friends. The raising test. Not to mention the Arches before all of it and the twisted, almost prophetic visions it had shown him. His lips twisted slightly at that thought. Had he just never really dealt with any of it? Petting it build...until there was no reason left to hold it all in. He had won, had achieved his goal. He was Gaidin.

Feels a hollow thing now he told himself bitterly as he pushed the door open and strode into a bustling establishment almost full to the brim. In the middle of the day at that.

"Alrim lad, shake my bones if you haven't gone and given me more work than I know what to do! Come now, drink!" he guided Alrim through the throng when he saw him and to an ever so slightly clearer corner.

"Klarick...what in the Light?"

"Happened? I know! Yesterday lad. Some of those strays I told you about. Well they cam rolling in here like they owned the place. Almost had to beat some sense into 'em you know. Fool children," his face darkened slightly but lit up again quickly enough, "and they wanted work! Work! What did ye say to them lad?"

"I-I-I just...well...told them to...choose" he almost stammered.

"Bloody well didn't. Ah well keep yer secrets. But that lass with the flame hair, wispy one, she's a cook by half and is out back with Mischa right now. Cooking up a storm. And that other one, the lad with those scars across his face, if he don't half know how to entertain between serving up drink and tables"

Klarick went on but Alrim had ceased to listen, a couple more had come too. That made four. More than he had dared to think would come but less than he had hoped. Still, some was better than none/. Alrim was left to himself after that, a bowl of broth fixed up by the cook in training before him beside a flagon of fine ale. He just blinked at them, wondering if they would vanish and if it were another mirage. Some twisted illusion that would lure him in and take the feeling of achievement away at the last minute.

Time passed and nothing happened. With a soft smile he poured a cup of ale and ate his now cold soup. It was the most delicious thing he could remember having for some reason.

He stood at the shutters now, open so that he could stare toward the horizon as the sun's light faded. The most perfect of places to view the vent from, one which made it all the more magical. He felt drained, bone tired and spent. He had returned to do business and business he had fulfilled. He just hadn't counted on the business being half money making and half self-cleansing - in as much as he could. No more drunkenness. No more tears. No more seeing them out of the corner of his eyes. Just a sense of peace - for now. A sorrowful peace but he would take it. As the light began to go purple and dim further he picked up the fiddle and plucked the strings to make sure it was at least relatively tuneful.

Will have to do, I can't damned well do it properly in light let alone dark he grumbled to himself.

He hummed a tune, a soft, slow and pretty tune if a bit sombre. A tune from long ago, when happier times had allowed for them to imagine what sorrow was before ever having experienced it. His sister by the window as he was now and the rest of them sat on the floor and listening. Silent and united for at least that one moment of the day. A tune for heroes and the ones who didn't come home. He but bow to strings, cradling the fiddle under his neck and played.

It was terrible, awful. But it was his and his alone. Hers. Ad he would improve it. He played the notes, poorly timed and every so often scratching instead of flowing. Or trying to flow. He leaned into the music, for what it was worth and for those few minutes he stepped back in time and saw what he had never seen properly before. Family. Love. Trust. Security. Everlasting companionship. And the beauty of the little song. As it came to an end he fancied that he saw some shadows flicker outside but he paid them no mind, things always moved in the night and the night held little fear for him anymore. It was hard to be afraid of shadows when you'd survived a building falling on you. Well...part of one..

"I'll remember. And be better" he told himself quietly before he bolted the shutters closed and returned to the main room to sit by the fire, staring down at the thing in his hands in remembrance until sleep overcame him.
********************** And now the last day. Just shy of two weeks he had been in Arafel, visiting and laying to rest old things. Talking business. Trying to give hope and getting some scallywags to stop being so damned annoying and criminal. He had learned much in his short time, mostly about himself. He would likely continue learning when he left. This had been more of an impetus than a fulfilment. Something loomed for him in the future, he felt it between his shoulder blades. He was sat upon his horse outside of The Rose's Thorn, a rather irritable and scowling Aes Sedai sat upon theirs a little way away.

"Sure you're not in trouble lad? You're welcome here long as you like you know?"

"Have no fear Klarick. I will be fine. Remember what I said about those lads and lasses now. You mind them and if any of them ends up wanting to head to the Tower you write me, let me know"

"Oh alright, alright! Just trying to be hospitable now"

"You are one of the best men that I know. Look after yourself," he leaned down and clapped him on the shoulder before looking at the now three young workers for the tavern, "and you lot, you look after him. I hear of anything going missing I'll come and drag you out by the scruff of your necks, no?"

"Yea yeah. We already did what you said! No need to be mean"

"Yeah! S'not fair. Should be being nice to us. Like that other time by the fire. Songs and tricks and stuff"

Alrim looked at Klarick and the man shook his head but smiled, winking up at him ever so slightly. They were all young, perhaps merely almost eighteen. Twenty winters perhaps. And not a shred of humility in them. They would go far if they had a mind to. Alrim eyed the Aes Sedai and decided that he didn't care. He already assuredly had a reputation and no impeccable manners or behaviour would ever salvage it. Not really. He sang.
There's a road calling you to stray,
step by step pulling you away,
under moon and star,
take the road no matter how far.

Where it leads no one ever knows,
don't look back follow where it goes,
far beyond the sun,
take the ro- "No a proper song!" one interrupted him as Klarick burst into laughter and was only held up by the post he was leaning upon.

"You shifty little s-"

"Now now Alrim," Klarick managed to get between wheezes, "manners lad. Go on! A...proper song!" he laughed again. ALrim scowled and then it eased away and a mischievous look came to his eye.

Oh yes, she won't like that one I reckon his flicked his gaze at the Aes Sedai who was tapping her arms impatiently.

"Very well" he said as he turned his horse to begin accompanying the Aes Sedai back to where she would weave the Gateway.
The Kandoriman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Kandoriman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.
The Kandoriman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Kandoriman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.
As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,
"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Kandoriman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Kandoriman's wife! Some things, he realised as the Aes Sedai glared at him before riding off quickly and the others laughed behind him, would never, ever, ever change.