Few souls have put themselves entirely beyond the Light. All of the blasphemies and crimes which humanity commits may be forgiven them and they may return to the Light, with three exceptions:

 

Those who have sworn themselves to the Dark One. No redemption for such is possible, and they may not be suffered to live.

 

The witches of Tar Valon, those who would blasphemously use the True Source, light beyond light, for their own mortal ends. No redemption for such is possible, and they may not be suffered to live.

 

Those who would pledge themselves to serve the witches, giving up their humanity to enter into an evil and unnatural bond with them. No redemption for such is possible, and they may not be suffered to live.

 

--Lothair Mantelar, The Way of the Light

 

A wind arose on Dragonmount, stirring up the black columns of smoke that constantly issued forth from the mountain's jagged, broken peak. The wind made its way down through dark, secret crevices in the rock, dislodging little pebbles that rattled their way downwards, crashing into larger stones which were in turn shattered or knocked out of place, opening steaming new fissures across the slopes of the mountaintop, on heights that no climber had ever reached. The wind carried on down and soon reached the plains below.

 

It blew across the plains  -untended, fallow ground thick with weeds close by Dragonmount. Beyond it was farmland. This had been the site of the last and bloodiest conflict of the Aiel War and even now, when the farmers ploughed they sometimes dug up skulls, spearheads, rusted helmets. The wind blew cold, passing by the yellow-lit windows of many farmhouses. Dozing dogs in the yards suddenly looked up as it passed by, eyes shining yellow like their wolf ancestors, and snapped at the air as if the wind were an unwelcome intruder. In the warm inside, their owners for a moment, felt a similar premonition. For better or for worse, the wind bore change.

 

The wind rippled the waters of the Erinin and tugged at the sails of passing river-ships, making their way to or from the great port of Tar Valon, whose legendary Shining Walls gleamed in the moonlight to the east. It ran along the river and blew down into the village of Alindaer, and through an open window into the common room of the Sister's Gift.

 

Kit Galond, sitting in a chair close by the window, shivered in the breeze. It was not just the cold that suddenly caused goosebumps to rise on his arms but a sudden feeling of dread for the future. His face going pale, he got up to shut the window.

 

"Hey you! Hey boy!"

 

He did not look around at first. The warm common room was busy tonight, with a wagonload of Andoran traders stopping through on their way back from a successful venture in Tar Valon's markets. They were showing their appreciation for their luck by buying everyone in the room many rounds of ale, and many toasts had been drunk to the Amyrlin Seat and the Queen of Andor. Kit had politely accepted the first, and kept from emptying it for the rest of the night, gently covering it with his hands when any of the serving girls tried to refill it. He cut a sombre, quiet figure, still in his long unrelieved black coat with his straw hat shading his eyes. Most of the other customers in the high-ceiling, brightly-lit room had already stripped to their shirts, the better to dance in the centre of the room to the gleeman's fiddle. There had been songs as well -at first just the gleeman, but later the Andorans had insisted that everyone join in. Some of the songs, like 'Water in the Well' or 'Master Aemon's Three Drunken Days', were new to Kit. Others he knew from home, although the words were often somewhat changed. The man who had been signalling was one of the locals, a balding, redfaced tailor.

 

"Didn't see you there before! Give us a song there, lad!"

 

Kit protested weakly.

 

"Oh, I don't really sing..."

 

"Wha'? Everyone sings! C'mon! Give us a song! A song!"

 

Others took up the chant.

 

"A song! A song! A song!"

 

Everyone was staring at Kit. He gave a nervous, reluctant smile.

 

"Well... all right then"

 

What's the harm?

 

There was an appreciative cheer and the tailor clapped him on the back, shoving a glass of Baerlon whiskey into his hands.

 

"There you go, lad! Swill it down and let's hear it!"

 

Kit tried to take just a sip but the tailor used one beefy finger to uptilt the glass above his mouth, so that the fiery spirits coursed down his throat in one gulp. Kit coughed and spluttered while a roar of laughter went up from the common room. Recovering his poise a little, and wiping the back of his hand with his mouth, Kit took up his stance.

 

"This is... this is a song from my homeland. It's called 'Serna Sadi's Last Ride'"

 

Even this got a roar of approval from the common room. Kit began tapping his foot to the rhythm and, gradually gaining confidence, launched into the first verse. His voice was strong, clear and pleasant.

 

"As I rode down Bellon way

Seeking for diversion..."

 

The crowd was listening with pleasure, some of them even joining in on the chorus on the second verse. Kit began to enjoy himself.

 

"I saw the men in white

Loyal, true and faithful

They'd brought back Serna Sadi

To die for what she'd done"

 

A large part of the room went silent. Those who had drunk the most were still happily tapping their feet but others had gone still, and their faces were suddenly white with anger. Uncertainly, Kit launched into the chorus.

 

"Serna Sadi! Serna Sadi!

They shook her, they beat her

Then they hung her up to dry"

 

Few people joined in the chorus this time and those who did faltered as they saw the looks of their fellows, and trailed off into silence. Kit stopped singing. The tailor was glaring at him, his drink-flushed face contorted.

 

"Is something wrong?"

 

"That... song is what's wrong", the tailor said, his words choked with rage.

 

Kit frowned.

 

"What's wrong with it? It's just a silly tavern song. Why should it matter to anyone?"

 

The tailor advanced on him.

 

"Because it's about Serenia Latar. 'Serna Sadi' -Serena Sedai. The only Amyrlin the thrice-burned Trolloc-spawn Whitecloaks have ever killed"

 

Kit closed his eyes, tried to hear beyond the sudden pounding in his ears.

 

"I didn't know that it was about that"

 

"And what did you think it was about?"

 

"I'd just never really thought about it. It's just a song. I wouldn't have sung it if I'd known what it was about. I won't sing it again. Please accept my apology and let's have done with this"

 

"Not good enough". The mood of the common room was against Kit, and the tailor sensed it. "You're from Amadicia, aren't you, boy? Should have known from your sour face and jackdaw coat. Your kind aren't well-liked around here"

 

Kit didn't say anything. He was tensed. Some of the more sober customers caught something about his pose, and quietly slipped away for the door, sensing violence.

 

"You're on your horse and out of here tomorrow morning", the tailor said. Kit nodded, carefully. The tailor continued:

 

"But in Alindaer we love the sisters, and we love the White Tower, and we think there's not a Whitecloak born who wasn't a bloody murderer. And to give you something to remember that by..."

 

The tailor's fist was stretched back, his eyes fixed on Kit's face. And that was why he didn't see the quiet youth's hand go to his sword hilt and draw it out, resting the point on the sweat-stained shirt stretched across the tailor's belly. His eyes went down in shock to the length of gleaming steel between him and the young man, and then up to Kit's eyes, which suddenly seemed much harder and less afraid.

 

"I don't want trouble here"

 

"Well, you seem to have found it, haven't you?"

 

The new voice was that of the innkeeper. He leant across the bar with a crossbow in his hands, its wavering bolt aimed at Kit. A hush fell over the crowd. The still, silent tableau seemed like it might last forever.

   Anwashawn Ellasser had returned to the Yards nearly three months ago and he still didn't feel as comfortable as he once did.  Before, he had been surrounded by friends, preparing to propose to a fellow Guard, enjoyed being mentored by a Master of the Path of Water.  It was a peaceful and joyful time in his life.  But that had all changed.  Dene was gone and her leaving had sent Shawn on a hiatus of his own for six months.  Now in addition to Dene nearly every friend he'd made was gone, his mentor as well, and truth be told he was feeling lonely.  He was surrounded by people that knew him, but none that knew him well.

 

   Which is why he found himself returning to Alindaer instead of a local Tar Valon tavern when he needed to escape the confines of the Yards.  During his time away he had lived in the wilderness outside Alindaer, and while he spent most of it on his own he had come to know the people of the village well during that time.  They accepted him with compassion and did not judge him for leaving the Tower.  He had even proven himself useful to them on occasion and they had come to think of him as one of their own.  Strangely he felt more connected to the people in this small village than he did to those that served in the Yards.

 

   With no work to do in the forge, no trainees to whip into shape, and a reprieve from duty on the wall Shawn found himself with absolutely nothing to do for the first time since his return.  He'd arrived at the Sister's Gift in the early afternoon and spent a few hours chatting with friends and playing games of chance.  As the dinner crowd started filling the room Shawn slipped away to sit by himself in the corner where he could watch his friends enjoying themselves.  A few of the young women of the town tried to persuade him to dance but he still wasn't ready to enjoy such frivolous dalliances and they knew well enough not to push him too far.

 

   So he enjoyed one of his favorite past-times, people watching.  Shawn loved to sit back and observe the interactions between one individual and another and all the many and varied ways they could respond to one another.  He found he learned more about mankind through these patient observations than by any other method he'd discovered.  He was becoming an expert at correctly reading someone's character in mere moments, a skill that he knew would serve him well in his training and career.

 

   Which is why, despite his own deep and personal hatred for Whitecloaks he found himself rising to the young man's defense.  The room was deathly silent as the citizens of this small village waited to see what the young Amadician would do.  He had his sword at Travis's chest, but Dorn had a crossbow bolt aimed at his heart.  The tension in the inn was thick and Shawn calmly rose from his seat and walked toward the three men, the crowd visibly relaxing when they saw who it was, trusting him to handle it safely.

 

   As he approached he removed his hood and shrugged his cloak away from his arms to give himself access to his knives.  "Dorn, why don't you put that away, I don't think you'll be needing it tonight."  Shawn reached out and grabbed the blade of the sword, moving it away from Travis's chest.  When the tailor looked to try and renew his attack Shawn held out his arm to stop him.  "Travis.  You are one of the few here that  know my story and you know better than most that I would be the first to enforce the exile of any Whitecloak from this fair town.  But, this young man is no Whitecloak.  Look into his eyes, there is pain and loss but there is no hatred."

 

   Now, with most of the tension evaporating but with all eyes still on them Shawn turned to the newcomer, "So tell me true, did you know the meaning of the song you sang?  Why are you here?"

 

OOC: Welcome to the WY!!  If you want to know what Shawn looks like check out his bio.

There was an aura of power and confidence to the young man who had intervened, despite his troubled eyes. The crowd responded to it, with the tension slowly dissipating.

 

Kit also relaxed, holding his scabbard with one hand while he slid his sword back into it. He frowned at the stranger's question -was that the trace of another Amadician accent he heard?

 

"I swear by the Light", he said, "I did not know what the song was about"

 

The tailor grunted, accepting this now. He turned aside and moved over to the bar, picking up his mug of ale. Kit continued.

 

"My name is Katran Galond. I've come here to become a Warder"

 

The tailor spluttered on his mouthful of ale.

  The young man's answer, and the oath he gave with it, seemed to satisfy Travis and he moved back to his regular seat at the bar, trusting Shawn to handle the situation.  For Shawn's part he was glad he'd decided to come here this evening as things might have gone much worse without his friendly influence to convince the crowd to calm themselves.

 

  "My name is Katran Galdon. I've come here to become a Warder"

 

  Many of the patrons of the inn laughed at the audacity of a man with such an obvious Amadician accent coming to serve at the Tower.  Shawn grinned with the rest but he knew what it was like to face your own fears and he imagined the man must have quite a story to tell.

 

  "Well, I might be able to help you with that.  My name is Anwashawn Ellasser and I am a Tower Guard, we serve the Tower as Warders serve individual Aes Sedai.  For now I will take you at your word as far as the song is concerned, but I must caution you to be similarly wary of any other ballads from home.  Now, before I bring you to the Yards and introduce you to the Mistress of Trainees, why don't you have a drink with me and tell me what brought you here."

The gleeman, who had been watching the commotion in silence, now struck up another tune -the cheerful, mildly bawdy and entirely unpolitical drinking song 'Tinker in the Kitchen'. Satisfied that the situation was resolved, those who were left in the common room returned to their drinks.

 

Kit nodded in gratitude and sat down at Shawn's corner table. It seemed to have been chosen with surprising care -it commanded a view of the entire common room. Without waiting to be asked, a servant girl brought them a pair of ale-mugs on a tray, depositing them on the table with a fond smile at Shawn.

 

Kit gave a cautious sip. The ale was sweeter and creamier than the dark brown Amadician bitters he was used, and it was served warm the way they had done it in Andor. It was not unpleasant, however, and as he told his story, he was thankful for its presence at his side.

 

"Everyone calls me Kit", he began. "I come from a little village called Torn in Amadicia, maybe some fifty miles west of the Eldar. As long as I can remember, I've wanted to be a Child of the Light"

 

Despite Shawn's previous intervention, that calm admission earned Kit several surprised looks and a few glares from neighbouring tables. Kit did not appear to pay them any heed.

 

"Then one day a woman came to stay at my father's inn..."

 

He went through the details of the story with calm, unruffled honesty. The sacrifice that the Aes Sedai had made for him still moved him, but it no longer pained him. He had made his decision and hit upon a way to honour and repay her. For Kit, that cleared his conscience.

 

"And so", he finished, "I knew that I had to come here and join the Tower Guard. I want to defend the Aes Sedai, from the Children and the Trollocs and all of their other enemies. It's been quite a journey. I met Dragonsworn who thought I was a spy for the Children in Altara and I was robbed in Lugard. Outside Four Kings in Andor I met a girl who wanted me to stay with her and take over her father's farm when he died, and she tried to kill me with a pitchfork when I refused. I've seen more things than I ever would have in a lifetime in Torn. It's been exciting and it's been frightening, but the end is in sight now..."

 

For the first time since he had begun telling his story, the darkhaired Amadician youth showed a hint of nerves. His near-empty mug trembled slightly in his hand, and there was a faint flush on his cheeks as he concluded. Kit was thinking about entering Tar Valon, home of the wi- home of the Aes Sedai. He knew that he had been taught lies and poisonous half-truths about them growing up. He had seen so much more of the world since then, far more than his father ever had. All the same, it was hard to uproot certain firmly fixed instincts. Every instinct he had was urging him to stay away, to go back to the girl in Four Kings or wherever else the road might take him, and to leave this stronghold of the Aes Sedai far behind him. 

 

(ooc: hope you don't mind if I join in)

 

Life was a blur the first few days he was bonded.  There was so much to do, so many people to see, especially his friends and comrades still in the Tower Guard.  Visar knew he might not be able to see any of them again for certainty, so he took advantage of the fact that Rasheta Sedai had two warders.  He made sure Dante was going to be available for "duty" for most of the day, and went about saying his farewells.  He made sure he left his cloak back in Rasheta's rooms.  His eyes were still not used to the way its color shifted around him.  Somehow, while he had seen warder cloaks for a long time, wearing one was totally different.  Dante told him he'd get used to it.

 

There was business to attend to today that wouldn't require the cloak, thankfully.  His only sword, the one he had chosen three years ago as a trainee, was turning rusty near the hilt, the tang probably coated in it. The once finely honed edge was dull and badly nicked in several places to make Visar wary of sharpening it.  A weapon in such poor shape was certainly not worthy of being an Aes Sedai's shield!  While he was fond of his long sword, he knew it had been through a lot.  He needed to see if it was worth repairing, though he already suspected it was high time to have another made.  He went straight to the forge after having finished at the barracks.  It was time to ask Shawn for his opinion.

 

Visar had not seen his smith friend for a long time.  It had been at least a year, and Visar was surprised to learn that Shawn had been gone for half of that.  When he arrived, he mentally cursed himself for not knowing his old friend's schedule.  Today was Shawn's day off, and he was most likely just outside of the city in Alindaer somewhere.  Visar vaguely remembered that he and Shawn had gone to a tavern or inn in the village after they were off duty.  He couldn't remember what the name of the inn was, however.

 

At least getting to the bridge and into Alindaer wasn't too hard.  Tar Valon hadn't changed too much in a year.  Visar walked to where he thought the inn was.  He passed some people walking quickly the other way, angrily muttering about bloody Whitecloaks and about someone getting an iron welcome they deserved.  Whatever that meant, it smelled like trouble.

 

When Visar entered the inn, he stood just past the doorway and scanned the room.  Whatever it was that made people leave, things had settled down.  The innkeeper stared warily at the weapons Visar wore at his side.  Visar gave an almost apologetic shrug, as if to say it was in the business.  He scanned the room again.  It seemed oddly familiar.  Had he been in this inn before?

 

He had!  Visar stared at a familiar face, and after a few moments recognized Shawn sitting in the corner.  And he wasn't alone; a young man was with him, talking to him about something.

 

"Shawn!  Is that you?!"  Visar said loudly as he approached the table.  "It's been flaming close to a year, hasn't it?!  By the Stone! How have you been, you bloody great lummox?" he laughed, oblivious to narrow eyed stares at his course language.

 

"Ah. . ." Visar's smile froze, feeling like he had suddenly ran right into trouble without a helmet on.  The youth looked rather nervous about something. Visar did his best to say something polite and friendly to him. "Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt.  I'm an old friend of his. Might I join you both for a drink?"  He took a seat by Shawn, not waiting to hear for the boy's permission.

 

"Name's Visar Falmaien. What's yours?" he asked the young man.

  Shawn couldn't help but laugh at his friend's colorful language.  He stood to shake Vis's hand and welcome him to the table.  "Hey, Vis, long time no see.  You just missed quite the bit of entertainment.  Our young friend here seems to have made the unpleasant mistake of seeing a folk song from his home town in Amador without realizing that the lyrics of the song celebrated execution of an Aes Sedai by Whitecloaks.  You can imagine how our friends here in Alindaer reacted.  But, here's the best part, he's here to join us at the Tower."

 

  Shawn turned his attention back to Kit and reassured him of his good will, "But don't worry kit, we won't hold your past against you.  If you swear your service to the Tower we'd be glad to have you."

The newcomer, a Tairen by his looks and accent, did not wear the infamous colour-shifting cloaks of the Warders (Kit found it hard to picture them) but somehow Kit knew instinctively that he was a bonded Warder. He moved with the slightly eerily fluid grace and economy of movement, discussed widely in Amadicia as proof of the unnatural bond between man and Aes Sedai.

 

"My name's Katran Galond", Kit told him, moving his chair aside so that the newcomer could sit down. "But everyone calls me Kit"

 

He smiled a little sheepishly as Shawn related the story and nodded as the Tower Guard, laughing, explained his ambition to become a Warder.

 

"But don't worry Kit, we won't hold your past against you.  If you swear your service to the Tower we'd be glad to have you."

 

Kit bowed his head. "Thank you. I know I'll have to prove myself and I know not a tenth of those who come here for Warder training end up qualifying. I just want to do what I can"

 

He looked about him. The last few guests but them had already gone, either to their homes or their rented rooms upstairs. The serving maids were wiping down the tables and clearing away platters and mugs. Trying to repress a shiver and a last chill of fear, Kit said, striving for nonchalance:

 

"Well, I was going to stay here overnight but if you can get us past the gates after nightfall... shall we go? Shall we go into Tar Valon?"

 

 

 

Visar listened to Shawn tell about what the boy had done.  Visar could only shake his head, amused but relieved that the offensive lyrics had not resulted in any bloodshed.  At the remark that the boy wanted to join the Tower, Visar raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure whether to be incredulous or outright amused.  Neither would be very polite, though, so he took Kit seriously.  After all, he had done far worse than sing a song, had come to the Tower with the most cowardly intentions, and he had still been allowed to start over at the Tower.  It was not in his place to judge anyone else who wanted that chance.

 

"Well met, Kit." Visar replied briefly to his introduction.  Shawn reassured Katran that he would be welcome.

 

"Thank you. I know I'll have to prove myself and I know not a tenth of those who come here for Warder training end up qualifying. I just want to do what I can"

 

Visar nodded with approval at Katran's solemn reply.  Kit had a good attitude to start with; he was humble and not overconfident of himself, and that would help him succeed where dozens of haughty noble-born youths had failed.  Visar considered telling Katran just how difficult the training was, and that most trainees either dropped out in their first few months or weren't allowed to go beyond anything but rank and file guardsmen, but that would be a most discouraging thing to say.  The boy looked nervous enough as it was.

 

"Well, I was going to stay here overnight but if you can get us past the gates after nightfall... shall we go? Shall we go into Tar Valon?"

 

"Of course, whenever you're ready.  Have no fear: We'll vouch for you at the bridge gate. We know most of the guardsmen there by name, anyway, and if they refused us I'm sure they would not dare suffer the wrath of an Aes Sedai if she had to come all the way down there to let us back in," Visar said with a rueful grin, dropping the hint to Shawn that he had bonded.

 

They got up from the table, finished their drinks, and let the serving girls finish up.  While Kit went to go get his things from his room (ooc: I'm assuming he had a room there? can edit if you want me to), Visar wasted no time to tell his friend why he had actually come.

 

"Shawn, it's about my sword..." he winced as he said that.  He glanced at the servers, and decided not to draw it out of the sheath here; that would only scare them.  "Not sure if it's worth repairing in the shape it's in now.  Took quite a beating while I was away in Shienar. I'll let you take a look at it when we get back.  I'm thinking it's high time to have a new blade forged anyway, I've had this old thing since I was a trainee.  Might you be interested?"

  Once more Shawn was surprised at all that he'd missed during his time away from the Tower.  His friend Vis had gone and gotten himself bonded.  Well, she was a fortunate woman whoever she was.  Kit left to collect his things and Visar broached the subject that had him searching for Shawn.

 

  "Of course I'm interested Vis.  Tell you what we'll do; let's escort this youngster," Shawn couldn't help but chuckle at that since Kit was at most two years younger than himself, but they were separated by a gulf of experience that was much larger than that, "to meet Thera and then I'll take a look at your sword.  Judging from the damage it had the last time I repaired it for you, and given how long ago that was, you're probably right about needing a new one.  If that's the case you can come by the smithy tomorrow and we'll talk details."

 

  Kit must not have had much, or he was just fast, but either way he had returned by the time they'd finished their short private conversation and announced that he was ready to go.  Shawn laid some coins on the table to cover their tab and led the way out of the inn and to the bridge.  The bridge was in fact located at the very center of town.  The guards at the top recognized the Guard and Warder and waved them through without a word about the man walking between them.

 

  OOC: I deleted the rest of this--took us all the way to Thera's office--because I thought Kit might want to give his impressions of the city or that Vis might want to continue the tour.  But if ya'll want me to go on I can, just send me a PM and I'll tack the rest of this post back on.

It did not take Kit long to throw his handful of possessions into his saddlebags and sling them over his shoulder. There were a few changes of clothes, his money pouch and knife. Lying at the bottom was a single oddity, a battered copy of The Way of the Light by Lothair Mantelar. Kit could not have articulated precisely why he had kept it, except that part of it was to do with not wanting to let go of some part of his past self and childhood, and another part was needing to remember how he had thought back then.

 

He headed downstairs and the two Gaidin led him out of the village and up the graceful arc of the bridge underneath the legendary Shining Walls. Kit had seen them as he rode down into Alindaer that afternoon, but this was the first time he had seen them up close. They were breathtaking -rising impossibly high, white stone streaked with silver without stains or cracks anywhere. The cool, sleek and glassy material offered no grip or handhold for a climber. Kit had been to Amador once, as a child, and seen the Fortress of the Light but that grim place had offered nothing in terms of such scale and grandeur.

 

Recognising Kit's escorts, the guards on duty, their breath vaporous in the cold night air, waved them through without a word. And beyond the gates was Tar Valon.

 

Later on, Kit would try to recall his first sight of Tar Valon. He would try to remember how it had seemed to him on that strange first night, his head still fuzzy with alchohol and adrenaline from the confrontation, his body stiff and sore from the weeks of hard riding, his heart racing with fear and excitement. The city beyond those gates seemed like a dream, so much so that he wondered if perhaps he was asleep in bed at the Sister's Gift in Alindaer, or perhaps even still gripped by the killing fever in his own bed in Torn, with everything since then -his saviour's death, his new decision, the journey and the clash with the tailor and his meeting with Shawn and Visar, just the delirious visions of a dying boy. And Kit saw the city of Tar Valon many times afterwards, and learned to appreciate its subtle beauties as well as its immedietely visible magnificence, but he never once again experienced the sheer, humbling sense of awe and excitement which he did walking its streets that night.

 

In the moonlight, the city glowed in a thousand pastel colours, all supported by a rich base of pure white. No two buildings looked the same but each was built with the same peerless technical skill, eye for beauty and sheer joyous imagination. Buildings were carved into the shapes of birds and animals, rearing up or curled around each other. One building was shaped like a flower, each perfectly-formed petal opening out to the sky to a different degree, as though a single moment of the flower's life had been preserved in stone forever. The polished, deep blue facade of another building, a town hall of some sort, was carved to resemble a waterfall, each droplet of inlaid white foam on the crests of the water frozen in time. Slender, graceful bridges arced over the street, joining one fantastic structure or tapering tower to another. Kit had heard stories of Tar Valon before now, even if they were mostly just the settings for new accounts of the witches' lies and perfidy. He had never been able to understand how a city built like that could really resemble anything other than a chaotic mess, oversaturated with colour. Now he was here, he understood. Every building was different but every building had also clearly been fashioned by builders who shared the same vision and the same genius, the mysterious and reclusive Ogier.

 

As they walked along, Kit noticed another and more subtle difference of Tar Valon to every other city he had travelled through. This late at night, there was little traffic on the streets but those who did walk abroad moved confidently down the middle of the street, passing through the alleys, under archways and across lonely bridges as they willed. When they became aware of Kit's party, they glanced at them but with frank curiosity rather than fear, curiosity which changed to respect as they somehow recognised his escorts as Tower Guards. It took Kit some time to realise what it was. They had no fear of thieves or any other violence by night. Here in Tar Valon, it was safe by day or night, safety guaranteed by the Aes Sedai and their Warders. As that realisation sank in, Kit began to feel more and more content with his decision.

 

Dominating the horizon at the end of every street was the White Tower, a shaft of pure pale fire stretching up into the clouds. It had been visible for leagues before Tar Valon, of course, far higher than even the Shining Walls. But from the foothills around Dragonmount, it had looked slender and fragile, a white needle seeming almost in danger of blowing over in the wind. Here in Tar Valon, it was a monumentally broad and high structure, the largest Kit had ever seen. It was visible from every street corner in Tar Valon, a constant reminder of the power and authority of the Aes Sedai. For a moment, looking at it, Kit was once again seized by dread and a sudden uncertainty. Living in a place like that, so high above the mortal world, could these women help but start to consider themselves more than human?

 

He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. As much as he might want to, there was no turning back now. He dutifully followed his guides towards the White Tower itself.

 

 

OOC: Okay, I vote we go on ahead to the White Tower, now Kit's done playing tourist, so the poor boy can finally be registered and starting trainee-ish things. Take it away, senor!

 

(ooc: sure thing, I'll set you right up to meet the Mistress)

 

The young Kit's jaw was slack, awestruck at the many sights for most of the short journey.  Visar was somewhat amused, having seen such things a hundred times already, but knew he had felt something similar when he first saw the city.  And he had not had such a breathtaking view; Katran came just when the city was at its best; the air was cool, the night sky was clear, and the moonlight reflected off everything with a soothing glow.  His own arrival had been during a shivering, cloudy winter's day, and during less fortunate circumstances.  Yet he would not do anything to take that wonderful, refreshing feeling of arriving at a paradise from Katran.  Tar Valon was certainly better than most other cities, especially in terms of safety, but it was not perfect.  And life at the Tower, while generous in providing for a trainee's needs, could be strict and harsh to even the strongest young men.  Visar only hoped that Katran's desire to serve the White Tower was strong enough to endure through the grindstone.

 

They passed the smaller gates to the Tower grounds, and Visar and Shawn, knowing the way all too well, guided Katran to Mistress Thera's office.

 

"I hope she's still in her office at this time of night..." Visar mused to Shawn.  He quickly reassured Katran.  "If not we'll find you a place to sleep and you'll report to her first thing in the morning."

 

They arrived at the familiar oak door.  Visar wondered how long it had been since he had stood before them as a trainee, fear trembling in his legs.  Was it two years or three?  Nostalgia aside, he did not envy Katran's position of having to meet the formidable Mistress Thera Trakelyn one bit.

 

Visar and Shawn waited to see if the Mistress was in as Kit knocked on the door.

Thera was doing, what she was always doing when sequestered in her office for any length of time; pouring over paper after paper, all of which required her judgment or signature.  Though, like many of the days, her mind was not on her work. Her eyes kept drifting to the window, where she could just see the edge of the Tower proper if she craned her neck just so. Somewhere within those walls was Serena, and Thera was desperate to see her again.

 

Her thoughts and emotions were still a snarl when it came to the woman, but she knew that the only way to untangle them was to talk. Back when they had been bonded, it had been so easy to know what Serena was feeling and she longed for that again. She longed to be able to point on the woman in a crowd, or to close her eyes and know exactly what she was feeling. But it was so complex…

 

She was a mother now..and a wife, and above all always the Mistress of Trainees. How could she ask Serena to share her with so many, when she was unwilling to share Serena at all?

 

A knock sounded at her door and those problems became thoughts for another time. Duty above all, except Lyss. “Come.” She bellowed, wiping off the nib of the pen and lighting sanding the page

 

Kit looked uncertainly to his escorts on either side at the voice's call, but they made no move. Kit reluctantly realised that the last step in this journey had to be his alone, just as the first had been. Swallowing, he opened the door and stepped inside.

 

He barely looked at the woman behind the desk, keeping his eyes trained on the weave of the carpet, while making a low bow.

 

"My name is Katran Galond, Mistress. Of Amadicia. I wish to join the Tower Guard", he mumbled.

Another new trainee for the books, Thera could have sighed had she been less controlled. ‘What have you brought me now Visar? Another boy who wishes to be a hero?” Leaning back in her chair she studied Katran from Amadicia. “He seems too timid for such grand dreams. Well come here boy I don’t bite.”

 

The boy shuffled forward, and Visar departed with a small smile. He knew that much of her gruff nature was a facade, but this trainee would not learn that until he advanced to the rank of Tower Guard…if he ever advanced at all.

 

“If you can speak at more than a mumble boy, tell me why I should allow you to enroll?”

 

Kit swallowed, summoning up all his reserves of strength. For the first time, he met the gaze of the Mistress of Trainees fully. He had rehearsed this moment a hundred times on the road, never knowing what it would really be like when it came to it.

 

"I've travelled a long way to be here", he said, his voice now clear and resonant. "And I've sacrificed a lot to be here, as well. My father probably hates me now, and he may never forgive me. Almost no one I knew back home will ever want to have anything to do with me again. In Amadicia, they say Tar Valon is the Dark One's second home on earth. At home, my aunt used to make me behave by telling me that the witches came and took wicked boys away and made them their slaves with the bonds of a warder. I am very frightened right now, yet I am standing here and asking to enroll as a trainee at the Warders' Yard"

 

For the first time since he'd came to Tar Valon, a smile -slight and wryly playful, crossed Kit's lips.

 

"None of that makes me any qualified in any way. But surely it must make you at least a little curious?"

 

He squared his shoulders, looking straight ahead again.

 

"I'm fast and stronger. I can keep a cool head. I can handle a sword, and I want to learn how to excel at it. I won't run from any fight, but I'm also not a fool and I do not pick fights or look for trouble. I can work very hard. But I'm sure you've often turned away canditates who are all of those things. The important thing about me is this: I'd die to save the life of an Aes Sedai, any Aes Sedai"

Thera’s lips quirked into a small smile quickly concealed. She had to admit that the child had gumption. He was obviously so scared his knees were shaking and yet he faced her with a steady gaze. Others who faced her that way were often stubborn, or thought themselves better than they were, but she didn’t see that as the case with young Kit.

 

“We all have given up much to be in the Tower. For some of us it is family, or others a lover or a friend, but whatever it is you have lost Kit..I assure you that you will gain all that you seek and more.”

 

Kit shifted under her intense stare, but she held his eyes with the power of her own. “There are rules to govern your life, and they are all set in place so that you can fulfill your dream of saving an Aes Sedai and perhaps one day being bonded. I want you to know this, it is a long road to travel and I expect you to see it through to the end once you begin. You may not end up as a Warder, you may only be  a Tower Guard, but you will know the honor in that service as well.”

 

“So, tell me Kit of Amadicia, can you adhere to all my rules and give up the last ties to your home to tie yourself to the Tower?”

 

OOC: Welcome! RP Out Kit saying yes (I am assuming her does) and RP Thera showing him to his room and around the yards and you are set.

 

Kit paused for a moment, but his decision had already been made.

 

"I can and I swear to do so"

 

He considered swearing by the Light, but it seemed unnecessary somehow.

 

 

After that, it was a trip across the Yard, lit by cold moonlight. The Yard was overlooked by old, long and narrow stone buildings on all sides. The same elegance of design had gone into them as the city and Tower, but they had been designed with more austerity. The place was entered from the direction of the White Tower by a pair of wooden gates, and from Tar Valon by various narrow, arched passages through the buildings. Many windows looked down on the Yard. The various stairways up on the outside were narrow and steep, curling around the buildings' exteriors. The yard itself was a wide pitch of grass and sand, perhaps twice the size of the village green in Torn. Under the eaves of the buildings were rows of practise dummies and target ranges.

 

Kit studied the grounds, trying to learn as much about them as he could. He had already noted a certain quality in all three of the Gaidin he had met -Shawn, Visar and Thera, a quiet but intense air of being entirely aware of their surroundings. While not seeming troubled or ill at ease in any way, they were constantly studying everything and everyone around them. Self-consciously trying to think like them, Kit examined the Yard again. He noticed the way that all of the ways into the Yard were dominated by iron bars -iron bars that could presumably drop down to block the way if necessary. All of the entrances were narrow, except the gates that connected with the White Tower -a whole force of men could ride through there with great speed. All the windows looking down on the Yard -a bowman at each of them could turn the place into a killing field. The narrow staircases leading up could each be held by one man against a great many enemies. Kit realised that the entire barracks compound had been designed for a siege -a handful of well-trained men could hold an army off here for days. At the same time, if the White Tower itself should come under attack, the Warders could charge in to defend the Aes Sedai in moments.

 

The Mistress of the Trainees led him inside one of the buildings and up a narrow, dark flight of stairs. It terminated somewhere just below the roof of the building, and Kit was now shown along a narrow and dimly hall lined with doors on either side, to a small and cramped room. There was little room for anything beside a bed, a stool, a washstand and a small chest for personal effects. Wishing him good night, Thera departed.

 

Kit did not immedietely go to bed, although he was exhausted and his muscles ached from the long ride behind him. He sat on a stool, next to the window, and looked out into the darkness of the Yard. He wondered what his neighbours would be like, and what their stories might be. He wondered how his father was doing, what all his friends and family in Torn were up to now and what they made of his disappearance. He wondered what kind of hardships and challenges he would face in the Yard over the next few years. He wondered, although he tried not to, whether any of the Amadician stories about Aes Sedai and the Tower were true. Finally, he prepared himself for bed. He had to break a thin veneer of ice in the basin to wash himself, and the water was cold and stinging on his face and shoulders.

 

 

And it barely seemed like Kit had closed his eyes before the bell of morning exercises woke him -the harsh, interminable clanging he was soon to grow all too familiar with. Hoarse shouts from someone striding past outside in the hallways informed him that he had better be up and down in the Yard in quarter of an hour, or he'd be doing laps until midnight.

 

Yawning, Kit reached for his clothes and pulled them on, then hurried downstairs into the new life waiting for him.

 

 

 

OOC: Sweet! Thanks for taking the time. Excelsior!