To Falter is to Fail (Gianna's Test for the Shawl)

[claireducky]

Gianna woke early, as always.  She rose, did some quick toning stretches and balance exercises, and dressed to face the day.  A soft cotton shift was followed by the lightweight white wool of an Accepted's dress with its banded hem.  A belt pouch went at her waist.  She splashed her face with cool water from the basin and combed her long, dark hair at the stand mirror.  The comb went into her belt pouch.  She sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on knee-high stockings followed by solid shoes of leather.  She left the room right on time and headed straight towards the Accepted's eating area near the Kitchens.  It was just another day.

 

As she walked, her thoughts dwelled primarily on the Novice class she was teaching this morning.  Some of the girls were near to touching the source for the first time; she hoped today would let them experience that wonder.  She smiled as she thought back with pleasure on her first experience with Saidar; Cemarillinin had practically had to drag it out of her.  Gianna had not been very good at surrendering in those days.

 

She was nearing the Kitchens when she felt a tug on her sleeve.  Gianna turned in surprise, and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Larindhra Sedai in front of her.  The Mistress of Novices was wearing her shawl; Novices and Accepteds in the corridor slowed to watch the exchange with interest.  The world seemed to slow down for Gianna as well, her heart denied what was coming but her mind knew better.

 

"Gianna su Riatin, you are summoned to be tested for the shawl of an Aes Sedai.  The Light keep you whole and see you safe."  Larindhra managed to sound kindly even with such serious words.  Gianna opened her mouth and then promptly closed it again.  She remembered the ritual.  She could not speak until addressed.  She nodded and followed as Larindhra turned on her heel and strode down the corridor.  The others in the hall parted before them, their expressions varying from commiseration to awe.

 

As they went below ground into the endless passages under the Tower, Gianna had much time to spend in thought.

 

I must be calm.

 

She breathed deeply as they winded their way down through wide corridors free of dust.  The way had been prepared, it seemed.

 

Calm, composed.  I cannot break.  I will do this.

 

Down they went, into the bowels of the Tower.  They finally arrived at the end of a passageway.  It was blocked by a double set of gigantic doors.  They were as large as the gates of a town, of a dark wood polished to a soft shine.  Larindhra channeled Air and they swung open silently.  She stepped inside the room beyond and Gianna followed.

 

The room was wide and circular, all of a gleaming white stone that reflected the light from stand lamps placed around its periphery.  A vaulted dome climbed upward from the walls.  As Gianna took in her surroundings, her breath caught.  There it was, the ter'angreal.

 

In the precise center of the room stood a gleaming oval.  It was a few feet taller than Gianna and perhaps three feet across at its widest point.  The material it was made of shone with an inner light that cycled through different colors, blue to green, silver to gold.  Gianna had almost forgotten about the Mistress of Novices when she suddenly spoke.

 

"Attend."

 

Suddenly, Gianna became aware of the other women in the room.  One Aes Sedai from each Ajah walked slowly forward to form a circle around her and Larindhra.  Gianna realized with displeasure that one of them was Nastascia.  Only two weeks had passed since Gianna had found out from Elyssa that Nastascia was the one who had been so cold at Gianna's test for Accepted.  She kept her face empty of emotion at the realization; any loss of composure now would be a failure.  When the circle was assembled, Larindhra continued the ceremony.

 

"You come in ignorance, Gianna su Riatin.  How would you depart?"

 

Gianna answered calmly.  "In knowledge of myself."

 

"For what reason have you been summoned here?"

 

"To be tried."

 

"For what reason should you be tried?"

 

"So that I may learn whether I am worthy."

 

"For what would you be found worthy?"

 

"To wear the shawl."

 

Gianna spoke the last words of the ritual with the same outward calm she had begun with.  Inside, she was a bundle of nerves.  She immediately began to remove her clothing, as the ceremony required.  While she was undressing, the Mistress of Novices continued to speak.

 

"Therefore I will instruct you.  You will see this sign upon the ground."  Gianna watched as the woman channeled and used a finger to draw a six-sided star in the air in front of her.  She continued to undress, working on the laces of her shoes.  Gianna felt a sister in the circle embrace Saidar.  A strange weave touched the back of her head lightly, and the sister murmured, "Remember what must be remembered."

 

Gianna was surprised; this was not part of the rituals that she had learned.  She tried to not let her surprise show and moved on to removing her stockings.  Larindhra spoke again.

 

"When you see that sign, you will go to it immediately, at a steady pace, neither hurrying nor hanging back, and only then may you embrace the Power.  The weaving required must begin immediately, and you may not leave that sign until it is completed." 

 

Again the other sister murmured, "Remember what must be remembered."  Gianna was fairly sure the voice was Zeveria's, and she wanted to smile.  The Aes Sedai had been her roommate in their Novice days; she had only been raised to the shawl in recent months.  She kept her face still and started working on her buttons down the back of her dress.

 

"One hundred times will you weave, in the order you have been given and in perfect composure."

 

Gianna's hands worked steadily down the row of buttons when Zeveria spoke a third time, "Remember what must be remembered."  She felt the weave the sister had been creating settle into the back of her skull.  All of the sisters save Larindhra moved away and took up positions around the ter'angreal.  They knelt, and as one embraced the Source.  The ter'angreal began to shift colors faster til it was a whirling kaleidoscope of hues.  Gianna forced herself not to stare and continued to undress, even when the ter'angreal's opening filled with a sheet of flat white and the oval began to turn silently on it's base. 

 

She had reached the last buttons and pulled the dress of the banded hem over her head.  It was carefully folded and placed upon her shoes and stockings on the floor.  Her shift followed, and finally she was naked.

 

Well, not quite.

 

Gianna removed the Great Serpent ring from her finger and placed it lightly on top of the pile of clothing.  She truly felt unprotected, now.  Her face remained a mask of calm.  Gianna turned toward the slowly revolving oval and walked forward steadily.  Without hesitation, she walked through its center and the world turned white.

 

 

 

 

[claireducky]

Gianna looked around herself in confusion.  Where was she?  And why was she naked?  She glanced down at her nakedness, but made no move to cover herself.  She knew somewhere deep inside that she must remain absolutely calm, no matter the cost.

 

She took in her surroundings carefully.  A corridor of dark grey stone stretched in front of her.  The architecture appeared vaguely of the Borderlands.  She was Gianna, and she had traveled to the Borderlands before with her father.  She vaguely wondered where her father was.  Suddenly, she noticed a set of clothing on a table next to her.  It was strange; she could have sworn that neither table nor garments were there a moment before.

 

Gianna moved to the table and dressed steadily.  A dark grey woolen dress was followed by thin stockings and sturdy shoes.  As Gianna straightened from pulling on the second shoe, she saw an exit at the end of the corridor with an arched top.  Inset in the archway was a six-pointed star of white stone.  She moved toward it.  As she passed under, she entered a courtyard of the same dark grey stone.  Several paces away, Gianna spotted a larger version of the six-pointed star set in the cobblestones beneath her feet. 

 

As she began to walk toward it, she heard the tolling of bells in alarm. 

 

Yes, definitely a Borderland town.  That is a raid alarm if I have ever heard one.  I must remain calm.

 

Trollocs appeared, spilling over the crenellations in the walls of the courtyard.  Gianna fought the urge to channel or to hurry to the star.  The smelly creatures voiced a wordless roar at the sight of her and began to charge.  Calm.  She finally reached the star and immediately began the required weave.  A simple weave of Air, it only required a portion of her attention as she wove other forms of death and sent them speeding at the Shadowspawn.  Razors of Air and Fire decapitated the Trollocs several at a time.  Earth erupted under the second wave, exploding in wreathing flames that caught the creatures alight instantly. 

 

The smell of burning hair and flesh filled the courtyard as Gianna completed the required weave and a small silver-blue disc of Air dropped into her outstretched hand.  All of the Trollocs were dead or dying.  Gianna released Saidar and took a look around her.  At the north end of the courtyard was another arch with stairs heading down to a lower level.  Above it was the six-pointed star.  Gianna calmly walked to the arch, lifting her skirts to step lightly over a Trolloc in its death throes.  She reached the arch and passed under...

 

...and was somewhere she had never been before.  She knew that she had just completed weave number one of one hundred that she must make, and that she must go on.

 

But go on where?

 

She gazed down at herself first and realized that she was in dishabille.  A faint cry of embarrassment sounded from somewhere inside her, but she stomped on it.  She must be the essence of composure.  She was in the bedroom of a manor house; its decorations were in the style of Cairhien.  Gianna could hear sounds of loud voices in the streets outside.  She moved toward a dressing stand and put on the ankle-length robe and fanciful mask there.  It must be the Feast of Lights.  She pulled the robe around herself and made her way out of the manor.

 

On the nighttime streets, revelers for the festival were everywhere.  Gianna walked calmly, even when a draft of wind caught her cloak and whipped it out of her hands, revealing everything underneath.  She had participated in this Festival before, what matter if she was exposed? 

 

Gianna probably walked for near to twenty minutes down the arrow-straight roads and alleys of Cairhien.  She was kissed several times by men and even a woman as she walked.  The noise of the festival began to take a strained tone that Gianna didn't like.  She thought she heard screams of pain mixed in with the mirth. 

 

The crowd parted, and Gianna saw the six-pointed star drawn in the muddy street.  She moved to it and became aware of a smell of burning that triggered a mild sense of deja vu in her.  She reached the star and stepped lightly onto it.  Gianna immediately began to weave, a complex web of all Five Powers.  Air, Fire, and Earth were placed just so, followed by Spirit and Air.  Earth and Air together, then Air, Spirit, and Water.  It was already a hopeless snarl, and it wasn't even halfway done.  As she continued to weave, the smell of burning was much stronger.  She registered the glow above the buildings' roofs for what it truly was.

 

Cairhien is burning!  Oh Light, the number of people who will die if they are caught by it!

 

She kept her face calm and began to split her weaves.  She watched the sky out of the corner of her eye, keeping the required weave in her view at all times.  Water, Air, and Spirit fanned out in a weave across the sky, a weave as intricate as the required one.  As she continued to work on both weaves, the heavens darkened and clouds blocked out the stars.  Lightning streaked the sky, and she adjusted the weather weave with more Water.  It was rain she needed, not lightning! If she failed to set the required weave correctly, she would get a painful electric shock herself.  Finally, blessed rain began to fall on her upturned face and she let go of the web in the sky.

 

The rain started to downpour; Gianna's hair became soaked and plastered to her cheeks.  She gently moved a lock of hair out of her eyes and laid the final strands on the required weave.  It fell into place, and Gianna let the whole weave dissipate.  She suddenly saw the sign of the six-pointed star above the door of a thatch-roofed Inn.  Gianna left the star in the mud and walked steadily toward it.  As she passed into the Inn the world went blindingly bright...

 

...and was somewhere she had never been before.  She knew that she had just completed weave number two of one hundred that she must make, and that she must go on.

 

She was in the Aiel Waste, or something akin to it.  She was naked and the sun beat down on her, making her fair skin feel like it was being roasted.  Her feet were scorching on the hot sand and she fought down the urge to dance on it to save the soles of her feet from the pain.  Calm.

 

A light tunic and breeches were on the sand in front of her, and soft lace up boots of leather.  She donned the items and looked around.  In the distance was a small round object sticking up from the sands.  Gianna made for it.  As she neared it, it appeared more and more to be a raised platform of stone, standing perhaps 18 inches above the sand.  How it came to be here she did not know.  On the platform was set the star; that was all that mattered. 

 

She mounted the platform and began.  This was another intricate weave like lace, so many of them used all five of the powers.  This particular one only used Air, Earth, and Spirit, yet it was still as complicated as any other. 

 

Suddenly Gianna became aware of figures in the sand, surrounding her.  They were two men, identical in stature and the black coats they wore.  Their facial features were blurred but for piercing, ice-blue eyes.

 

With part of her concentration, Gianna wove a solid wall of Air in a circle around her and tied it off.  She sent a fist of Earth (sand, really) flying toward the man directly in front of her.  Gianna reeled as she felt something slice through her weave.

 

Impossible!

 

She stifled her fear and kept her face still as the realization of what these men were came to her.  Male channelers; there could be no other explanation.  Well, Gianna would give them a surprise.  She was very strong in Spirit; and could shield a person already holding the Source.  Continuing to work on the required weave, Gianna sent a razor thin blade of Spirit toward the man.  He staggered and Gianna realized she had severed him accidentally instead of shielding him.

 

Well, perhaps that is for the best, anyway.

 

The man had managed to get off attacks at her, and Gianna was dreadfully hurt when one of the attacks struck home.  Blood ran down from her scalp into her eyes, yet Gianna held on to the weaves.  The other man had not attacked her yet, and he had a look of sorrow on his face.  Again, Gianna felt a pang of pity and something akin to love deep in her heart.  She told herself it was impossible, she didn't even know these men.  It was with only a little regret that she slid the severing blow of Spirit home above the other man, and he sank to his knees as he was cut off from the Source forever.  Gianna finished the required weave and felt like staggering as she let it dissipate.

 

She turned toward the second man, who hadn't attacked her.  He held an outstretched arm to her and she felt the pang of pity and love again.  "I'm sorry," she said.  "it really is better this way."  She walked past the man and toward a rock formation near by with the sign of the star upon it's face.  Gianna passed under the rock formation and the world shifted...

 

...and was somewhere she had never been before.  She knew that she had just completed weave number three of one hundred that she must make, and that she must go on.

 

Gianna wove ninety-six more times, in different locations and scenarios.  She faced more Shadowspawn, creatures from the Blight that were the stuff of nightmares, snakes and predatory cats and all manner of unpleasant things.  She was cut, beaten, kissed, attacked and hurt in so many ways.  She wove in the Blight, and in the Land of Madmen.  She wove atop the highest mountain and from the deepest swamp.  She wove ninety-six more times, and it came to this.

 

She was somewhere she HAD been before.  She knew that she had just completed weave number ninety-nine of one hundred that she must make, and that she must go on.  After this, it would be done.

 

It was her old home in Cairhien, in fact it was her old room.  She was naked and moved to her bed where a silk nightgown awaited her.  She pulled the gown over her head and looked for a moment at the soft feather bed.  Her muscles cried out with fatigue and pain; it was all she could do to keep her face free of that longing and turn away from the bed.

 

She went into the corridor and headed down the marble staircase.  The last time she had been here was the night of the party, so many years ago.  It seemed an age away, but the hurt was still fresh.  There was a dark stain at the bottom of the staircase that Gianna had never seen before.  Gianna realized with mounting horror that it was scorch marks and dried blood. The pattern of blood and burned places made a six-pointed star.

 

Her feet padded quietly down the stairs and she refused to hesitate.  The stone went from cool to oddly warm under her toes when she stepped upon the grisly reminder of her father's fate.  She suppressed the urge to vomit, and began the final weave.  It seemed an ironic twist that this weave, if performed correctly, would produce a shower of tiny sparkling flecks in the air.  A miniature Illuminator's show, if you will.

 

"Well, well...look who has come back to visit us at last?"  Gianna turned slowly toward the voice behind her, not letting her face betray the sudden fury she felt at hearing her Uncle.  She made her own voice pure silk, while continuing to weave.  "Uncle.  Forgive me if I do not curtsy, but I only do that to my betters."

 

He was opening his voice to speak, but Gianna's weave of Air caught him around the waist and filled his mouth with a gag.  "I think you should save your breath, dear Uncle, for when you go before the magistrate and tell them what you did to my father."  His eyes glittered at her and he tried to smirk around the gag.

 

She finished laying the final parts of the weave in place.  As they snapped together, a shower of sparkles filled the room above her head; red and gold, blue and green.  She turned toward the portrait of her father on the wall by the staircase.  "A fitting tribute to you, father?  At least I have your killer in hand."

 

Gianna left the star made of gore and char, walking toward her Uncle.  She was almost to him when suddenly he started to fade, like mist upon the wind.  As much as she wanted to run to him, to stop the process before he slipped through her fingers, she didn't let herself.  By time she reached where he had stood, there was nothing left but for a ducal signet ring laying upon the marble.  She bent to pick it up and breathed softly when she saw what it was.  The design was of a silver star on a jet background; the star had wings stretching out from it to the sides.

 

She tucked the ring in a tightly held fist and limped toward the front doors of the home.  The sign of the star shone out in the leaded glass above the casement.  Gianna threw the doors open and passed through...

 

...and stumbled forward onto the cold stone floor of a white domed room.  Suddenly, the whole experience came crashing down on her at once.  All of it, every single hurt, every single weave, it was all laid clear in her mind-- a trail of memories that could be followed back to before she entered the ter'angreal.

 

Larindhra stepped forward and clapped her hands once, loudly.  The sound brought Gianna around sharply. "It is done.  Let no one ever speak of what has passed here.  It is for us to share in silence with she who experienced it.  It is done."  She claps her hands again sharply.  "Gianna su Riatin, you will spend tonight in prayer and contemplation of the burdens you will take up on the morrow, when you don the shawl of an Aes Sedai.  It is done."

 

The Mistress of Novices clapped her hands one last time, then turned and headed for the doors of the room.  The other women crowded close around Gianna, offering their help.  All except Nastascia, that is.  She was out of the room almost on Larindhra's heels, a sour smirk on her face.

 

Zeveria handed Gianna her clothes; she accepted them with gratitude, along with the help getting in them.  She was a bundle of hurt.  When she was dressed and her Great Serpent ring back on, the Yellow present asked if she would take Healing.  Gianna nodded, and felt as if she was plunged into an icy bath as the weave worked its way through her.  When it was done, the pain was gone but the fatigue remained.  And she was hungry enough to eat a horse.

 

The other women began to file out of the room; Zeveria and the Yellow accompanied Gianna back up to the main levels of the Tower.  They deposited Gianna at her room and murmured goodbyes when they left her there. 

 

Once the door was closed after them, Gianna sunk to the mattress in disbelief.  All of the emotions associated with this experience were still raw. 

 

I did it...I passed the test.  Tomorrow, I will be Aes Sedai!  Oh Light, Father, thank you for helping me!  I will avenge you! 

 

So then Gianna did what any reasonable person would have done when confronted with that much emotion all at once:  she laid face down on her bed and sobbed into her pillow for a long time.  Tomorrow, she would be of the Blue Ajah, and then there would be no time for tears.