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DRAGONMOUNT

A WHEEL OF TIME COMMUNITY

Writing the old tongue - attention Rossa


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It was a bright day outside. The desk just lay in the shadows, but there was more then sufficient light for reading and writing. Aeveryn had decided to do her work here in the library as most books seemed to be rather big and heavy and she saw no point in carrying them all up to her room and then back down again, especially not since the texts she needed was spread over a hundred books, more then two dozen of them held in the old tongue. Half her years as accepted she had spent learning that, and it had been hard. In fact she was spending so much time in the library some were calling her a brown already.

 

Sometimes it was just a single passage she was after, an important reference to some subject, to back an information up or dismiss it, often a page or two, but sometimes twenty or more pages contained what interested her. For a long time she had thought she could remember the content. She was good remembering things that interested her or she thought important. Maybe it was the old tongue, but she had found that she kept missing important details and running back around to reread them just delayed her studies immensely.

 

Hence the only solution was to copy those sections she needed. She had specifically had a book made for that purpose. Her own hand was clear and neat. But she wasn’t a very fast writer. So one day she finally found the courage to ask the Mistress of novices for help. Aeveryn was certain her request would be permitted. It was just that she did not like to fill other people in on the subject she was researching. Just thinking about it herself gave her the creeps, but she had never had a doubt about her choice of field. It was the shadow. She could not deny that she had a bizarre fascination with the dark one, his creatures and minions. Years ago she had started her studies trying to work out a way to better fight creatures like trollocs and fades. But now her interest had broadened. Oftenen it seemed one single phrase could make her mind jump from one subject to a completely different field. Reading about trollocs made her wonder about the state of mind of someone breeding the creatures, a scene of battle lead her to make assumptions about the organisation of darkfriends. The long and short of it the more she knew, the bigger her desire became to know more. It was like a drug that had taken hold of her.

 

Not that she was worried of ever becoming fond of the shadow. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could tempt her to forsake her soul or serve the dark one. But what would others think of her if they knew where her interests lay? She knew people were quick to come to the wrong conclusion. Her studies left her little time to socialise as it was, and therefore she preferred to stay isolated completely, only occasionally meeting some of her friends from novice days, especially when she had been unable to sleep, haunted from what she had learned, troubled by her past and the knowledge that the evil ones never slept and were pressing their plans every passing hour. She knew too well, she had been a victim herself, and on some days it seemed the events taking place more then twenty years ago had occurred just a few days past. At least the horror had been taken from her, along with the guilt and shame. The last fraction of troubled emotions had been washed from her with passing through the arches.

 

But she had found a new source of troubling thoughts. Her hand shook, the pen was blotting the paper, as she was remembering details she had read the night before. Gruesome details about the trolloc wars, recorded from someone who clearly was not following the light any more. She could nearly see what she had read, it kind of became real before her mind’s eye and had she been a fraction softer she would have wept then. She had cried last night. She often did when reading particular volumes.

 

It was motion that pulled her back to the present. She was still shivering besides the pleasant warmth filling the room, but then no heat would be able to make the chill she was feeling go away. She had not seen the girl standing before her previously. She was young, very young, maybe fourteen or fifteen at most, but there was seriousness in her features that did not match her age. Slowly Aeveryn considered her, taking time to memorise her features. She was a pleasant sight, but the word “stunning†did not come to her mind. Maybe she was beautiful if she smiled, or with growing age, when the girl fully turned into a woman, but then Aeveryn did not care for looks much. Aeveryn knew she herself was far from stunning, thinking of herself more in terms of special, or unique when she cared enough to actually look at her reflection.

 

The other girl kind of looked odd in the novice dress, as if it did not fit her yet fully. To Aeveryn it looked as if she has not yet totally understood what it meant to wear the white. Aeveryn knew it had taken her until the day of her arches to understand it fully. She would come to terms with it, or the tower would come to terms with her.

 

“So you are Rossa Venye, I assume? And the Mistress of Novices has sent you to help me?†She knew the answer before the other nodded. “Good. Take a seat and show me how you write. I hope you have a neat hand?†With that she handed the girl pen and paper. “I am Aeveryn by the way. Aeveryn Yewlis. I am pleased to meet you.â€

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~Rossa~

 

There was never enough time. How was she supposed to learn everything she needed to in order to avenge her parents and family if she was forever doing chores? In the week Rossa had spent under the roof of the White Tower, clad in Novice White and curtsying to everyone that looked remotely higher in status than herself, she had learnt nothing. Despite the brightness of the day outside, she knew deep down she would not get to see it, having a day spent in undertaking chores for a seeming procession of Aes Sedai and Accepted. Her heart wanted to go outside, even if only for a moment, so she could smell the air untainted by grease from the kitchens and feel a tiny piece of freedom once more. Having been on her own for what felt like most of her life; regardless of where her family were, they had always left her alone as long as lessons were attended, and successful, she was finding Tower life a little… confining. Irritating, sometimes to have every move planned for her and the times that were not full of lessons or chores, she was trying to find out little things on how to get ahead, and trying to memorise every Aes Sedai’s face she was introduced or exposed to so as to not put a foot wrong. It was also how Rossa had been expected to behave at home when a trip to the Altaran court at the Tarasin Palace was planned. To know by sight everyone of rank: their names, their titles and lands and anything they were interested in, in order to make pleasant conversation. Their father had drilled them well in such things, and it had become a habit that was not lightly forgotten.

 

Dropping a hasty curtsey to those she met along the way to the library, Rossa paid attention to everything. One never knew when something might be useful, particularly not somewhere as full of intrigue as Tar Valon was made out to be. Given an instruction to meet an Accepted in the library to help with some scribing that she wanted doing, Rossa had scurried through the corridors until she came to the large doors before her and quickly saw an Accepted sat at a writing desk littered with books that made her think of her father’s study when he had lost something. It made her want to smile at the memory, but then the remembered scream brought a lump to her throat, and she stood rooted to the spot before the older woman. She brought herself back to the present, remembering she should curtsey but the Accepted did not seem to notice it. At the lowest part of the curtsy, Rossa brought her head up to try and surreptitiously study the person she had been assigned to do chores for, keeping the gesture respectful but still trying to learn all she could. Pale hair, highlighted by the sunbeams that came through the window made it appear to glimmer softly like gently cascading water by moonlight. She could see very little of the other girl’s face, only that she seemed pale and not as beautiful as some she had seen in her time here, but there was something about her eyes that intrigued her. Even though they were shaded, they seemed to have a depth, and a past. Rossa remained standing in front of the Accepted until she noticed her and starting talking, at which point she dropped another respectful curtsey.

 

“So you are Rossa Venye, I assume? And the Mistress of Novices has sent you to help me. Good. Take a seat and show me how you write. I hope you have a neat hand. I am Aeveryn by the way. Aeveryn Yewlis. I am pleased to meet you.â€

 

Saying the correct responses in the right places, Rossa took a seat as indicated and picked up the pen and dipped the nib into the inkwell. Lessons had been strict back in Altara, with their father insisting that each and every child learnt how to read, write and speak well, so as not to reflect badly on the family name. She was her only hope of anyone even remembering her family name now, so she had to succeed at this. She took the book from the Accepted, Aeveryn, and thanked her before copy the letters exactly as they had appeared on the page. Not that she could read it, it appeared to be in some older script that Rossa had difficulty in reading, let alone copying, and as a result some of the initial letters bore no resemblance to that which had been written down previously.

 

“Accepted, what language is this, if you don’t mind? I could write it better if I knew what it was. I’m sorry for not having written that first word correctly.†Rossa blushed, not wanting to admit she had made a mistake in front of someone so obviously superior to herself.

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As the girl copied what she had given her Aeveryn studied her in the attempt to figure out where the other might be from. Again she realised she knew too little of the world, but she was quite certain the other was an Altaran. She was polite, at least that was the impression she was making on Aeveryn, and she seemed to try to please. It was a pleasant change from some of the brats she had to deal with usually.

 

Either her mind had trailed again or the girl was a faster writer then she, but she seemed to be done:

 

“Accepted, what language is this, if you don’t mind? I could write it better if I knew what it was. I’m sorry for not having written that first word correctly.†Taking the sheet off her and studying it, she nodded finally. “You do write neat. And it is an unusual variation of the old tongue.†Rising she stood behind the girl. “You are having trouble with two letter. Here. This one is written like this.†Slowly she demonstrated the motions of forming the letter with her hand. “And this is how you do the other.†Again she showed. Unconsciously she knew her voice carried some irritation. She was irritated with the old tongue, not the girl, but she would not explain herself now. She knew she wasn’t a good teacher and would never be one. “Try it.†She ordered, again a little snappish. Damn her, but deciphering the old tongue was hard. And annoying. At least the novice did as she had shown her and immediately the letters looked right.

 

Slowly she nodded. “Good. Here, another sheet. Try the page again.†Aeveryn had really already made up her mind that the Altaran would do, but she wanted to be certain that the girl would deliver perfect results. She did not want to have errors in her book. Sitting back down she waited until the other had finished. Reading it, comparing it to the original, she found herself mumble: “Remarkable.â€

 

Putting the sheet carelessly aside she considered the girl before her. “You are a noble, right? Or a merchant’s daughter? Tell me more about yourself. What brought you to the tower?â€

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~Rossa~

 

It was a good thing the Accepted had not been mad at her for making an error. Aeveryn seemed to be more rational than some of the Accepted Rossa had already met, having been given chores for every seemingly minor infraction of the Novice rules. And there were lots of rules. It was difficult to live without breaking some of them, and each time Rossa attempted to do the right thing, it had turned out to be wrong. Still, she never made the same mistake twice thank the Light. With deliberate care, Rossa practiced the outlines in her mind before committing the ink to the paper. So this was the Old Tongue? Her father had taught her what a few phrases of the Old Tongue meant, trivialities meant to impress when they were presented as the talented little darlings they were supposed to be. Her brothers had had problems. Had… Light how cruel the flames are… They lacked the artistic streak that Rossa had possessed, preferring instead to work with weaponry and defending themselves, or in learning about how to rule as a High Seat in their father’s stead. She was the only one left now, alone and in the White Tower with nothing with revenge for her friend.

 

This time, the characters appeared just as they had done in the book, repeating the page again, without error and earning praise from the blonde Accepted. The banded dress suited her, clinging to her slender form and showing the distance between herself, as Novice, and Aeveryn, as the rank above her.

 

She had just picked up the pen to start scribing again, as directed by the other girl when she started asking questions about her past. Her origins, and where she had come from before arriving at the White Tower. Inside, she was rent by uncertainty and felt her throat constricting and tears forming in her eyes. She was still unused to talking about her family; the memories were too sharp, too fresh. Tears had been spilt in the privacy of her room before she had fallen asleep, exhausted, yielding to dreams of choking on smoke and trying to escape an uncertain future that consisted of darkness or light by turns. Her head bent to her task of writing to avoid looking the older girl in the eye. She couldn’t cry! Not in public! Her family honour would not allow it, but she wanted to revel in her grief, to let it flow through her and for someone to look at her and see just how much she was hurting. Another time perhaps. No one would understand…

 

“I am the daughter of a noble house in Altara, Accepted Aeveryn. My family were…†She trailed off, knuckling at her eyes to clear them of the suddenly blinding tears that filled them. “My family died… every last one of them. Our house was burnt down. I was the only person to escape.†Her voice wavered and Rossa tightened her grip on the pen, watching her knuckles turn white. Her head remained looking down at her writing, trying to make sense of the words. She had to concentrate on something other than her memories!

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Aeveryn‘s question had been careless. She had expected to hear some simple tale of a homesick girl new at the tower and maybe a little confused about her new life. But within seconds she knew she was facing a different situation. The girl before had no resemblance to her own appearance, but suddenly she felt strongly remembered of her own past, her own first days and months at the white tower, where her wounds were still open and hurting, wounds that were invisible but tormenting her deeper then any cut ever could. And she knew instinctively it wasn‘t homesickness that was troubling the other. The first days were always the hardest. But this was not a peasant girl intimidated by smooth faces and fine silk.

 

“I am the daughter of a noble house in Altara, Accepted Aeveryn. My family were…†She had faced her past until all her emotions, all her sadness had faded, but still she felt compassion for this girl. “My family died… every last one of them. Our house was burnt down. I was the only person to escape.â€

 

The girl was crying, but instead of giving way to the tears she was fighting them. Oh she was as proud as she had been. Rising slowly she walked around the table, softly pried the novice‘s fingers from the writing tool before she broke it in two and then she made her rise gently. It was just a short way to the park. Silently she guided the other out the library, past brown sisters that would not notice if her charge blurted loudly, and still she understood that they were a distraction, a bar that would possibly hinder the other from opening her heart. Aeveryn came here rarely, but she still remembered certain places. Leading the clearly unsettled novice softly, but with determination, she guided her along. Moments later she had directed the still shaking girl to a wide stone bench. Trees and bushes surrounded them and provided a kind of shelter from nosy eyes. Not that there were any. But here a natural silence enclosed them. It was a placid place. The grass was soft, only a few butterflies danced in a corner, but there were no birds singing. Solitude. She herself had cried here until her entire body had aching when she had been a novice. She had cried until her mentors silken skirts had been soaked as she had her head covered in her lap. Oh she had cried until she had been able grow strong enough to live with what she could not change.

 

Making the other sit, and sitting close to her she looked her long in the slightly reddend eyes. Her voice was soft then. She realized it was rarely as soft. In fact she had forgotten it could be as soft, but her voice was soft and low now. „Tell me more. Tell me all if you like. Tell me what you like. And take your time.“

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~Rossa~

 

For the first time, anger was starting to rise in her. Herded from the room as though an overprotective hen, the blonde Accepted girl that reminded her of a waterfall had ushered her to a quiet garden where no one would likely hear the berating she was probably going to give her for crying in public. Rossa could almost hear the words falling from her lips. “That is not dignified. No matter what has happened in your past, you must not let it trouble you here. You are of the White Tower now; your past is behind you, dead and gone, and you should get accustomed to it!†It surprised her when the softly spoken words came from her, urging her to divulge more of her story to her and to take her time in doing so. The softness momentarily lulled her into a calm, feeling the relaxation from the park; the absence of sound and the smell of nature, flowers and grass combined to remind her of the gardens of her childhood. A calm that had rapidly dissipated as Rossa’s mind turned over the possibilities of why the Accepted wanted to know about her history. And her family! What right had Aeveryn to know Rossa’s private memories? They belonged to her!

 

Her gaze hardened as she stared back into the Accepted’s eyes. Light, the older girl had a piercing stare! Everyone had always told her how mature she was, and how much older than her years, but she felt vulnerable and weak as she gazed into Aeveryn’s blue stare, and it angered her. No noises intruded on that perfect moment as she felt her spine stiffen along with her resolve not to cry, not to tell the girl anything and to keep it all to herself. The famed Altaran temperament was beginning to manifest itself once more after nearly a week of suppression and despite all of her father’s training to keep it in check. Her mother had always said it would be her downfall one day, if she could not think coolly and rationally and to use her emotions wisely. She couldn’t let her mother down, and Rossa knew it.

 

“Thank you, Accepted, for your kind words.†The mask was back, temper held in check externally although she appeared very tight around the eyes. Some of her dark hair had escaped the simple band that held it back and now hung loosely around her face, framing it against the pale olive complexion and setting her eyes to flashing. Dignity returned. Composure. Inside, she twisted and turned like a mouse trapped in a maze, unable to find neither the way out nor the direction she really needed to go in. Could she trust her? The face seemed earnest enough. All Rossa wanted was a comforting, motherly hug and to be told it would be all right.

 

No! She couldn’t let herself trust anyone; they would likely try to bring her down as well. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered if she were being paranoid, too distrusting of anyone that had the potential to do to her what had already happened to her family. All the time Rossa realised she had been staring straight into Aeveryn’s face with a somewhat harsh expression on her own. “I’m sorry, Accepted. Her eyes flickered respectfully down as she stared into her lap, trying to make sense of the painful and confusing feelings that resided like a fist of ice in her stomach. Maybe the heat from her temper would melt it. Unlikely. The confusion would not go!

 

“I… I don’t know. What right do you have to ask? Oh…†There. She’d said it now. She’d likely gone and mentioned something to the Accepted that she wouldn’t like. More trips to the Mistress of Novices that she did not need! As well hang for the sheep as well as the fleece! Fingernails tore at her palms as Rossa dug them deeply in to stop her from saying anything else that she might regret, alone as they were in the secluded part of the park. No Aes Sedai to witness her outburst. Maybe she could cry… a little…

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For a moment she thought she had the other follow the right path, the road that would lead her to face her horrors and overcome them. But then something hardened. Again Aeveryn was reminded that she wasn’t the most skilled woman in the tower when it came to human relationships. The barrier that had been lowered slowly firmed again.

 

“Thank you, Accepted, for your kind words.†As the other spoke, Aeveryn realised she had been wrong about something else, Rossa was pretty, at least when she was angry, or trying to suppress the anger that was burning within her. Her hair, some strands escaping the hairdo she had created, underlined that fierce beauty. Or was it just something she conceived that way? It did not matter, that moment Aeveryn considered the other pretty for the first time. Maybe even stunning. Did others think her stunning when she was angry? Damn her, her mind was travelling again!

 

Deep inside part of Aeveryn was amused at the stare the girl was shooting her now. She knew the other was not aware of it, or at least not doing it intentionally. She assumed the girl was waging a war with herself. Maybe some years ago it would have unsettled her. Maybe some more years before and she would have been intimidated. Now it only produced mild amusement. Then the girl’s features smoothed some more. “I’m sorry, Accepted. I… I don’t know. What right do you have to ask? Oh…â€

 

The other did not see it, but that did make Aeveryn’s brow climb a fraction. Of course the memory of her own initial reaction of being questions of her past upon reaching the tower was still fresh on her mind. She had never been able to suppress what she was feeling as successfully as the girl before her did now. She had often allowed her anger to flow freely. She remembered throwing an expensive vase at her mentor… damn, she even remembered trying to hit the woman… well at least she had tried but not succeded. Amongst other things… And she had paid a dear price for her lack of control. Was she still like that? Well the recent years had not given her a chance to explode… or was her composure truly better now?

 

Allowing the silence to build for a moment she finally continued with that same, soft, comforting voice. “Once a novice came to this tower, a girl only a few years older then you. She was very proud and she thought she could ignore the hurt and pain she was feeling until it would vanish one day on its own. But unfortunatly it does not go away on its own. Luckily that girl had a very understanding mentor for otherwise, I assure you, that girl wouldn’t be here any more. Sooner or later she would have run off and done something foolish, like trying to seek revenge using what she had learned of Saidar. And you know what that would have probably lead to? To her burning herself out. Or her getting killed. And another talent would have been wasted useless.†Aeveryn realised she had just spoken more then she had the past week. Damn and it even felt good.

 

Softly pushing the strands of hair back behind the girl’s ear she lifted her chin so that the other had to look her right in the eyes. “I was that girl. At first I hated my mentor, because from that point on the mere mentioning of someone’s past, of someone’s parents would make me sob uncontrollably. But eventually I was able to face the past. Eventually I grew stronger then the past.†Taking the girls hand and pressing it she added. “I am not your enemy, Rossa. I want to help you. You are not some foolish man. It is ok if you cry. It will help.â€

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~Rossa~

 

Foolish man? Did the woman have no pride at all? Yet, it felt reassuring to believe that Accepted had undergone similar emotional experiences to her own and had survived. She didn’t like the idea of throwing away anything she had learnt in a foolish quest of revenge, which made Rossa wonder. Aeveryn had her own history, which she had somehow managed to put behind her and become focussed on her future. As yet, Rossa remained unsure as to how she would proceed once she had learnt enough to not kill herself, or burn herself out, but it would not be in a useless battle of revenge. Not a hope. Her father had taught her how to manipulate people subtly, so they would eventually plot their own demise, hoisted on their own petard and to Rossa; that was far more satisfying than a knife in the back. Everyone knew Aes Sedai could weave webs more twisted than the most experienced spider, so she knew her goal was set. Getting there could be the difficult part though… pent up emotions made her tremble, particularly when the blonde girl had gently tucked her hair behind her ear and looked meaningfully into her eyes.

 

There was something about that gaze that held Rossa, an intensity that spoke volumes of experience as though she had undergone the same experiences as her, at least to a certain degree if not the same level as herself. Clearly, the Accepted wanted her to unleash her feelings in some way. At least secluded in this private garden Rossa would be able to cry, to grieve, as she had not yet allowed herself the chance to, and the comforting squeeze from the older girl’s hand made her feel welcomed. It was a gesture her mother had habitually done when trying to calm her as a young girl in public, when a more outwards display of reassurance and comforting might be… improper or show to rivals that there were weaknesses to take advantage of. That was the one thing Aeveryn hadn’t considered, that she might not want to break down and assuage her grief through tears because the memory remained that they should not show weakness for fear it would be exploited, and turned into something it was not. Even at her young age of fourteen she had been drilled in such politics and by the age of ten if she could not detect a plot she would have been considered ‘slow’. Conversations at the dinner table talked of current events, although Rossa did not know which subject they had been discussing had been the cause of the fire. That was one thing she would find out as well. What had caused one of the family’s rivals to take such an action, and it also raised another disconcerting possibility… had her parents been involved with something that would have been seen as being less than honourable?

 

No… surely not. Anger rose in her once more, squeezing the Accepted’s hand hard without even thinking that she might be hurting the girl. Dark eyes flashed their dark fire once more, and the errant strand made its way across her cheek again. There was no taming it when she was angry. Sorrow overlaid the anger, turning nigh into despair and a low wail escaped her throat. She felt so alone! There was no one here for her, not a single person left to help carry the burden of being the last of her line, the name and honour of her family called into question, not to mention the fact that they had all died not two weeks before. It was all too much for her to bear. Her hands clenched into fists that nestled in the skirts of the white novice dress, pulling away from Aeveryn’s hand from her own, her dark head lowering so no one could see her face. Her shoulders shook with the effort of her crying, tears falling on her skirt, over her hands and staining the white fabric slightly darker. Why am I so alone? Huddled in on herself she kept rocking backwards and forwards, moaning in between sobs about the fire, how hot it had been and why had she been the only one to escape? What had started it? Who had started it? It settled to an insensible blur as the tears thoroughly flowed down her face. Reddened cheeks would take some time to calm down, but no one paid any attention to novices…

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For a moment Aeveryn was worried Rossa would throw a fit before her. She was indeed worried. But then the tension changed and tears started to flow. The girl still tried to hide them, but she did cry finally. She was inclined so sigh in relieve. Of course she would not know well how that would sound to the novice and that it would deeply hurt what little trust she had earned. Looking at the other for a moment she then pulled her softly closer so that she could cry against her shoulder.

 

It was a strange sensation. The last time she had been in a similar situation it had been when she was a novice and then she had been crying just as hard as her friend Vera. This time however she clearly stood about the grief. It was something she was involved with, but it did not affect her. Had she become that much of an Aes Sedai already?

 

As she whispered soothing words, unconsciously smoothing the dark haired girl’s head she tried to count how many years had passed since reaching the tower. And how many since she had become an Accepted.

 

Stunned she blinked, but her motions and words did not falter a moment. If she was right, then she had been here for 26 years. A cold sensation washed down her spine. She must have made an error. If that was true, she would have been 43 now. Unconciously she ceased her soft motions for a moment to touch her face. It was still as taunt as it had been upon her arrival. It still was a taunt as she knew it would be. But for a moment she had not been certain.

 

Continuing to sooth the girl she counted again. But the result did not change. It was strange. She had lost count at some point. Days faded into weeks, weeks became months and before you knew it half an average life was over. Where had time gone?

 

Dismissing the thoughts she returned her attention to the sobbing novice. Damn her, but the girl could truly be her daughter. No, she could almost be her grandchild! Well not quite.

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~Rossa~

 

Slender shoulders pressed against her, an arm going around her own and before she realised it, Rossa was being physically drawn to the other woman’s comforting embrace. Fingers faintly smoothed her hair down, flattening the locks that had escaped clasp and thong and holding her head, vaguely reminiscent of her mother. The maternal gesture was not lost on Rossa, collapsing in loud sobs onto Aeveryn’s chest, her tears spilling down the front of the other woman’s banded dress. Thoughts of the faintly remembered screams of pain and anguish, mirrored with the desire to get out of the burning building were at the forefront of her mind, myriad other thoughts battling for supremacy in that troubled arena. She did not know how long she remained, clinging to the other woman while it felt as though she pored her heart out through her tear ducts, but they shudders started to subside after a time, growing weaker as Rossa started to run out of energy.

 

“Oh, Accepted Aeveryn, I’m sorry.†Tremors still ran through her body as an occasional sob caught her unprepared, her hands still clenched in impotent fists. Light, how she had dreaded this moment, pouring out her deepest feelings to someone. She would owe them now; Rossa never forgot a debt. Her hands unclenched and she knuckled at her eyes to try and remove some of the obvious tears from their dark depths. Now, she felt like talking. As she had unburdened herself of the lump in her throat, the words were following naturally.

 

“It was a few weeks ago. I could smell something horrible, like the fire had been lit without the chimney having been swept. Thick smoke lay everywhere and I could hear people screaming faintly over the sound of crackling flames. Someone had set fire to our house, and I was beset by a blind panic. I didn’t know what to do! I thought that if I could get out of the place, I could get people to help, but I collapsed at the inn in the village nearby. I woke up and was told that they were all…†Her throat thickened again, unable to hold back the tears that had been building since she had began telling her story. Tears enveloped her anew.

 

“I will find whoever did it though.†The vow was sincere, and strong, so fresh the memories were. The garden stood as silent as the blonde Accepted had remained throughout the storm of her weeping, wind faintly rushing through the grass and sending fresh scents to her. It made her think of new beginnings, and she cursed the fact that she now had to start again, alone. There was nothing she could do about that though.

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Slowly Aeveryn nodded. But from one moment to the next the tender tone of her voice was gone. “But first you will promise me that you will complete your training before setting out on your revenge, yes?â€

 

Rossa was still occasionally shaking from her tears, but she no longer made the impression of a girl that had just cried her eyes out. She looked hard as iron and easily as determined as she brought her head up and looked straight back into Aeveryn’s eyes. “I can’t do that.â€

 

Later that evening Aeveryn was very pleased with herself that her face did not change a bit that moment. Inside however a turmoil of emotions was set loose. Also her voice did not hint at what she was feeling. “Will you repeat that form me, please?â€

 

It seemed Rossa was bright enough to realise she was on edge. The girl took longer to reply this time and Aeveryn had the feeling she had carefully chosen her words. But still, she had lost nothing of her pride. “I am sorry, I cannot promise that. The White Tower my demand my allegiance until I am ready, but what if I refuse to learn past a certain point? They will send me home, and I can start from there.â€

 

Slowly her head started to shake. She had started to like the girl before her, but this did deeply disappoint her. “You must have talent to wear the novice whites. Are you conceited to think they were given to you because of your titles? Or because of your pretty eyes? Or because the white tower feels sorry for you?†How many years was it ago that her mentor had an similar discussion with her? Deyalyn Sedai had been far more understanding though then she could have ever been.

 

“You fate is hard. But the pattern weaves as it wills. And I can not tolerate that you make plans of not doing your utmost to reach the shawl. In fact, the way you sound I nearly feel you don’t really intend to stay.â€

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~Rossa~

 

Tears were building again; she could feel them in her already upset state that they weren’t far from the surface. She had let her guard down and she had let herself down. At least it had only been one Accepted that had witnessed it and not an Aes Sedai – that would probably have meant her being frogmarched to the Mistress of Novices office for a stern talking to and more chores. Rossa felt her mother’s disapproval radiating from the core of her memories and her father turning away from her, as though in tableau she saw a remembered view of her four-year-old arm stretching out to her father’s back as he walked away from her. That was how she felt. Abandoned. And she was sulking like the little child she was. Her face flushed crimson at how she had preached of pride in her mind one minute and was now cringing. Aeveryn’s words seared into her brain, causing a near physical pain as her confusion and emotion battled one another.

 

“Your fate is hard. But the pattern weaves as it wills, and I cannot tolerate that you make plans of not doing your utmost to reach the shawl. In fact, the way you sound I nearly feel you don’t really intend to stay.â€

 

This Accepted sounded like one of the majestic Aes Sedai Rossa had already met. Her grief had overwhelmed Rossa; she had meant to keep her words a secret, but in her direst need to tell somebody, anybody, how she was feeling, more came out than she had intended. Yes, they had been her feelings, but how much of it was the need for revenge speaking, Rossa no longer knew.

 

“Forgive me, Accepted.†Scrambling to her feet, she managed to acquire a grass stain as her knee sank into the soft turf and put a mark on her white dress. She curtsied to the still seated Accepted. “You have been good to listen to my problems, and I appreciate that. I feel as though I need to avenge my parent’s deaths, and those of my brother and sisters.†Her eyes lowered to the ground, making a study of her shoes as she tried to think of what to say. In spite of her forced into a much more mature role than her years dictated, she was very much a young woman. “Someone is responsible for it, and there is nothing I can do. I feel so helpless.†Tears threatened again at the prospect of having messed up a chance at a potential friendship, even though such things were frowned upon between novices and accepted. Dignity was needed. She had to pull herself together. No longer the daughter of a noble house, even one that no longer existed to the rest of the world. Nobody would see her now as nobility, only as a white-clad novice learning to become an Aes Sedai. And she had forgotten her place! Deep in her heart she vowed that the name of House Venye would live on with her and she would restore prestige and honour to her line, not to mention discovering what had caused the blaze with such treacherous results. Wondering what the Accepted would do next, Rossa tried doing a breathing exercise her mother had grudgingly taught her to calm nerves and was impossibly relieved when it worked.

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“Forgive me, Accepted. You have been good to listen to my problems, and I appreciate that. I feel as though I need to avenge my parent’s deaths, and those of my brother and sisters. Someone is responsible for it, and there is nothing I can do. I feel so helpless.â€

 

Slowly Aeveryn nodded, but she was feeling far from relieved at hearing those words from the other. She really knew little of Rossa, but from her own words she was a noble, and Aeveryn could feel little trust in their kind. In her experience they lied as they liked and betrayed anything as long as it furthered their own ends. Glumly she remembered the fact she carried a noble title herself.

 

“Is that right? Then explain to me what you meant with your prior words about you not caring to reach the shawl and you thinking you can get along without it on your own.†Where Rossa’s words a little too smooth? "I do not know what came over me, Accepted. I will never learn all I need to before I reach the shawl."

 

Aeveryn sighed. She did not even know why she cared so much. There was a mentor and a mistress of novices for this matter. „When we are done, you will go to the mistress of novices and tell her exactly what you have told me. Everything. Well I leave it up to you to explain to her about your family. But you will tell her, exactly as you told me, your considerations about not… being able… to learn past a certain point and being thrown out the tower and so on.“

 

A moment later she added: „And you don‘t need to thank me for listening. It was an honor to be worthy of your trust and I am pleased that you shared your troubles with me. I am not upset with you because of that. Not the least and what you said will not be shared.“ Damn her for not finding better words to say that, but she did mean it.

 

„Before we go back inside, two last things: I don‘t want to hear you ask ever again what rights I have.“ It had only annoyed her slightly, she knew next time it would annoy her rather strongly and she wanted to give novices a warning before going mad at them. „The other, in addition to anything the mistress of novice decides upon, I want you to contemplate what advantage you personally could have as an Aes Sedai in comparison to the disadvantages you will have of not attaining that status. I want you to write your thoughts down and bring that along when we have this chore the next time. Will you do that?“

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~Rossa~

 

Rossa winced. An essay? When was she going to find the time to fit that in? They would scarcely allow a novice more light than necessary and their schedule was so rigorously managed that it would be nigh on impossible to complete it without getting up earlier than she already did. That was before almost everyone else anyway, given that she barely slept. It was one thing going to bed exhausted and waking up tired, but to exist on precious little sleep? No, she could not cope with it for much longer. Rossa vowed to write the list as soon as she could have a spare moment today so she had it with her for the next time she was called to scribe for Aeveryn the Accepted. She swallowed.

 

“Accepted, I have already told both the Mistress of Novices and my mentor of my plans and they told me not to be foolish. Both seem certain that in time I will grow out of it, yet my days seem to be filled with chores so I assume they mean me to forget my grieving with chores.†Rossa resumed the study of her shoes, still blushing with embarrassment at what she had done. She sounded repentant, yet there was still a doubt in her voice as to whether she would actually forget her cause. Not likely, and Rossa would not give it up in her heart of hearts, but she could suppress it. The blonde Accepted seemed to accept her explanation and, although far from content, the woman looked as though she would allow her only to complete the notes. At the very least she would not tell anyone of the exchange of words.

 

“I will write this for you for the next time you need me, Aeveryn Accepted.†The blonde girl nodded her acquiescence and then dismissed her with a strange expression on her face. She had no more time before her next lesson, neither did Rossa and it would have to be reconvened at a different time. Stepping hurriedly along the paths, Rossa knew she would have to work hard to avoid showing anyone the grass stain, and if she were late there would be trouble. Hurriedly, Rossa dropped a curtsey and headed away for her next lesson, wondering if she would learn anything more about herself, as she had done today. Aeveryn had shown her that she was too mixed up to plot revenge – better to wait until she had calmed, so her thoughts were rational. And also, to keep it hidden so no one would know.

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