A coniving woman passes through the arches...

[Phelix]

OOC: Gera's finally getting the bands on her dress!

 

IC: Gera felt like she was going to faint with boredom, if that was possible. She saw opportunities everywhere to create connections, to buy people into her service, and she could do nothing about it. Natasia Sedai had been very clear... if she even thought she saw Gera’s fingers on any situation she would haul the novice before the Hall of the Tower to explain all of her actions. Today, she was assigned the unenviable task of teaching new novices how to write complete thoughts. Some girls came to the Tower with a complete, thorough education, while others barely knew how to write their own name. Class often was a poor indicator for which novices would need the most help. Some girls from farms in the middle of no where could read and write as well as noble daughters, while some pompous, spoiled brats couldn’t put a coherent thought on paper.

 

When the girls all looked up, some gasping, Gera turned toward the door wondering what could startle her entire study group. There stood Talina Sedai looking dire.

 

“Gera Mondwin, you are to be tested.” The old Aes Sedai stood there waiting, and Gera was shocked. Was she ready? Yes, yes she was.

 

“Girls, please finish working on your essays. I will be back, and we will continue our work at our next lesson.” With a final nod, Gera stepped to the door and curtsied to Talina. “Yes, Aes Sedai, I am ready.”

 

Talina lead her deeper into the Tower’s base than Gera had ever been. A part of Gera’s mind noted that down here no one would hear what happened. Down here, anything could be done, and no one would be any the wiser. The room that Talina lead her to was cavernous, at its center stood a trio of arches. There were four Aes Sedai in the room, one at the points where the arches met, and one standing at a table where a silver chalice sat.

 

Gera followed Talina to the table and stood there, waiting for Talina to speak.

 

“Gera, two things that no woman hears until she enters this room. Once you begin, you must continue to the end. Refuse to go on, no matter your potential and you will be very kindly put out of the Tower with enough silver to support you a year, and you will never be allowed back.” The Cairhienin novice was shocked that they would think she would turn back. Hadn’t she surmounted every challenge they’d set her? Hadn’t she fought to succeed? She’d even given up the habits of a lifetime to bend to their will.

 

“Second. To seek, to strive, is to know danger. You will know danger here. Some women have entered, and never come out. When the ter’angreal was allowed to grow quiet, they – were – not – there. And they were never seen again. If you will survive, you must be steadfast. Faltering leads to a failure.” That made sense to Gera... faltering in the real world lead to failure too. If you were not sure of your purpose, others who were would snatch your victory from in front of you. Apparently it was the same in these arches.

 

“This is your last chance, child. You may turn back now, and you will have only mark against you. Twice more will you be allowed to come here, and only at the third refusal will you be put out of the Tower. It is no shame to refuse. Many cannot do it their first time here. Now you may speak.”

 

“I am ready Talina Sedai.” Gera spoke the words knowing they were true. If she wasn’t ready now, she would never be ready.

 

The sister beside the table suddenly came to life, “Whom do you bring with you, Sister?”

 

Talina gave the customary reply, “One who comes as a candidate for Acceptance, Sister.”

 

“Is she ready?”

 

“She is ready to leave behind what she was, and, passing through her fears, gain Acceptance.”

 

“Does she know her fears?”

 

“She has never faced them, but now is willing.”

 

“Then let her face what she fears.”

 

Talina arched an eyebrow at Gera, who suddenly realized she was supposed to strip out of her novice dress. Once she was clad in the Light, Talina lead her to the first arch. “The first arch is for the past, what was. The way back will come but once, be steadfast.”

 

As Gera stepped into the arch, a bright white light blinded her for a moment.

 

With a jerk of her head, Gera woke herself back to full alertness. She had to finish these reports before going to bed. Her lieutenant in the Foregate, Jean Maire, had found several of her informants dead in an entirely gruesome manner. The vertebrae in their necks had been pulled apart. Not twisted the way one would expect if their necks had been snapped... but pulled apart, as if they had been held by their heads while someone pulled down on their legs. The joints in their legs showed signs of tearing too.

 

Upon finding the third such informant, Jean had sent orders to all of her informants in the Foregate, requiring them to give a full accounting of anything and everything they’d noticed in their district. She’d read most of their reports, and none had noticed anything worth her time.

 

Finally she set down the last report and locked them back into the secret compartment in her desk. As the lock clicked shut, she heard another sound. All of her servants were in bed, and had been for hours. Footsteps in her house meant an intruder. Intruders who actually made it within the walls of her manor meant either her guards were dead or they’d been bought off. On her desk was a twelve inch stiletto that served as her letter opener. She hadn’t had to use it for anything other than reports and letters in years, but before it had served that purpose, it had been her last line of defense.

 

Her black dress was slashed in the colors she had claimed for her empire, blue and purple. One of the slashes was the perfect length to hide the dagger. A small loop of ribbon held the hilt while the tip tucked into a small pocket, and now her dagger was within easy reach and perfectly hidden.

 

She stood there, in perfect view of the windows and door, calmly waiting for what would come.

 

It wasn’t long before her door slowly swung open. There stood Jean Maire, quietly panting.

 

“You have to come, now Gera. They’ve got Luc.” Those words were enough to put her legs into motion. A small part of her mind said that this couldn’t be right. Luc had been taken by a rival spy master years before she left for the Tower. That didn’t matter though, Jean Maire said there was still time.

 

He helped her into a carriage, and then they were racing through the streets of the city out into the Forgate. When they arrived at the Golden Dawn Inn, an inn owned and operated by a man loyal to Gera down to his bones, Jean lead her up the stairs to a private dining room where three of her men stood around the open door. One held a small crossbow, the others daggers, though none could apparently get a clear strike into the room. Gera took the crossbow from the one and took her stiletto into her other hand.

 

“Bring us the Spider-bitch and no one else needs to be hurt,” called a voice from within the room.

 

Striding into the room, Gera flung her dagger with lethal accuracy, and suddenly there was only one man holding her lover hostage while his accomplice bled out on the floor. Luc wasn’t the father of her son and he certainly wasn’t her husband, but he made her happy. The knife at his throat definitely did not please her.

 

Aiming the crossbow’s bolt squarely between the villain’s eyes, Gera spoke. “The Spider-bitch is here, and I’m sorry, but someone else does need to be hurt. You need to be hurt. Currently, you have a knife held to a rather pretty throat that matters quite a bit to me, and you’ve lost the strength of numbers. So, you can release Luc or I can shoot you right between your beady eyes, in the middle of your sweaty forehead.”

 

Her lover began to laugh, just a small chuckle. Luc knew that she could pin a man’s ear to the wall behind his head. Shooting a man between the eyes shouldn’t be much of a problem.

 

Being a merchant of information, a dealer in secrets, could be a quiet business, when one didn’t have rivals. The same small part of her mind that knew Luc had been dead for years told her she hadn’t had a real rival, or a need for soldiers or enforcers in years. She had moved into a gentrified kind of dealing in secrets. But the evidence of her eyes told her that a rival was working against her and they had Luc. They had him dead to rights, and unless she did something now, she would lose Luc again.

 

She released the safety on the crossbow, holding it firmly level. The bolt would fly faster than the fool could twitch aside. It would kill him. The man pushed his knife so it actually dug a quarter inch into Luc’s throat. The red blood poured down Luc’s pretty throat, and Gera was about to pull the trigger when she saw a bright flash of silver to her right. With a quick glance, she saw the silver arch... that didn’t make sense in the Inn. The way back will come but once, be steadfast.

 

Her eyes stuck to it like metal filings to a magnet. Luc cried out, and when Gera looked, the knife was digging deeper. The arch began to flicker, and Luc screamed, the villain laughed.

 

Venting her rage in a howling scream, Gera stomped through the arch, only to find herself naked, standing in the basement of the White Tower. The water poured down cooling her anger, washing away her tears.

 

“You are washed clean of what sin you may have done and of those done against you. You are washed clean of what crime you may have committed, and of those committed against you. You come to us washed clean and pure, in heart and soul.” The Aes Sedai with the chalice seemed to have no personality other than the need to say cold words and pour colder water over the heads of women.

 

“He died years ago. My Luc did. They found him bled out in an Inn, his throat slit with a note for me. Why did the arch bring that back up?” Tears filled her eyes, and she looked at Talina, hoping for answers.

 

“No one knows child. Perhaps it shows alternatives to our lives, had other choices been made. Perhaps it rifles through your mind and creates a situation that is best fitted to you. Do you wish to continue on?”

 

Wiping the tears away, Gera took in a deep breath. Tears would not bring Luc back. Quitting would only put her back out into the world with no plan and no options. She would continue.

 

“Yes, Talina Sedai, I will continue.”

 

“The second arch is for what is. Remember, the way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

The white light felt cold, but it seared her to the soul as she stepped through the arch.

 

The full Hall of the Tower was an impressive sight. The Amyrlin was regal as any Queen on her throne, and the Sitters barely a hair’s breadth less so, while the Keeper looked much too bookish to be a Queen, though she could be the Queen of Librarians. Each of the 23 women in the room wore a frown that marred their ageless faces.

 

“Gera Mondwin, you stand accused of operating a spy ring here in the heart of the White Tower. The only reason you have not been stilled and sent from the Tower in exile is that you claim to have found evidence of a greater crime.” The Amyrlin’s voice was laced with scorn. “What claims will you trot out to defend yourself?”

 

Crimes? I haven’t found anything criminal... or have I? Gera’s mind raced, hoping for something that could save her. Suddenly, it came to her. One of the kitchen girls had taken a tray up to the quarters of a Yellow sister, and the girl happened to see a book of codes with a note lying next to it. The girl had read the note, which ordered the death of a noblewoman in Tear, explicitly by apparently natural means.

 

The girl hadn’t understood the importance of the note, but Gera had when she heard the words. She had immediately gone to Natasia Sedai, who was as good as her word and hauled Gera to a small group of Sitters first. Gera had tried to explain, but the Sitters doubted her. They wanted to take the word of a sister.

 

“Mother, some of the kitchen girls and servants have been sharing information with me. One of them found a note ordering the death of High Lady Faisel in Tear in Tiorana Sedai’s room. It was near a book of codes. She did not bring the note to me, but I trust her. As soon as she told me of the note, I brought the information to Natasia Sedai.” Gera curtsied at the end of her tale and clasped her hands at her waist, waiting for the Amyrlin’s judgment.

 

“Such a convenient tale, child. A mysterious threat without a shred of proof. We will investigate the claims though.” She was as stern as any executioner or judge, and Gera knew she could be both to her. “Natasia, since you feel this girl is trustworthy, you may take two sisters with you to Tiorana’s rooms to look for the alleged note and book of codes. Child, you will stand there while you wait to see the will of the Hall.”

 

After a long fifteen minutes, Natasia and the sisters with her returned, Tiorana held between them, shielded and glaring murder at the room, Gera in particular.

 

“Is this my accuser? A jumped up novice?” The scorn in her voice rankled Gera’s pride, but she kept silent.

 

“Yes, Tiorana, this is your accuser. This novice claims incriminating evidence was found in your room. Let us all hear her words again.” She gestured to Gera.

 

As she opened her mouth to lay the tale out again, but before the words would form, she saw the silver arch. That arch was more important than anything.

 

“Gera Mondwin, Novice, I want you to share your story with us again.” The Amyrlin’s anger was rising.

 

Swallowing, Gera turned away and walked toward the arch.

 

“See, the girl is lying! She won’t even accuse me to my face!” Tiorana’s voice was filled with triumph and yet more scorn, but Gera fought the urge to turn back to answer her charges. She kept the steady pace and walked through the arch just as the Amyrlin spoke again.

 

“Your lies have come home to roost, spymistress.”

 

The light blinded her as she stepped out of the arch, and felt the cool water sluicing over her.

 

“You are washed clean of false pride. You are washed clean of false ambition. You come to us washed clean in heart and soul.”

 

Talina Sedai looked at Gera, expecting more questions, but the old Cairhienin novice kept her mouth closed and the tears in her eyes.

 

“The third arch is for what will be. Be steadfast, the way back will come but once.”

 

Stepping through the third arch, Gera welcomed the blinding light. The test was almost over.

 

She fingered the thick silk of her gown, knowing the sound of the fabric rubbing against itself would distract and irritate her opponent. Finally, he moved a black stone, and she smiled.

 

“Thank you, your highness. The game is mine.” She moved her white stone and suddenly he realized how she had one the game in a single move. Groaning, the King of Altara nodded and began clearing the board.

 

“Yes, Gera Sedai, the game is yours.” He rang a small bell, and a pitcher of chilled mint tea was brought in by a serving woman. She poured goblets for the King and his advisor, then set the pitcher aside. The King drank his in a single swallow, poured himself more, and offered the pitcher to Gera. The Aes Sedai only sipped her tea, there was an odd flavor to it. She took another sip, trying to identify the extra herb.

 

Shaking her head, Gera felt muzzy. As she tried to set the goblet down, it fell from her fingertips. She had been poisoned! Grabbing for the source, she found it far out of reach. Glancing to her left, she saw the King had fallen out of his chair.

 

She blinked, and she was somewhere else. It felt like moments had passed, but she was in a completely different room. Her mind was clear, and the first thing she noticed was that she was reclining on a settee in one of the larger receiving rooms. Sitting across from her was a Whitecloak Lord Captain wearing his armor and his snowy white cloak. At his feet was the body of the Altaran King.

 

“I’m glad you woke, witch.” His voice was deceptively smooth, like cream over poison. “I hate to be the bearer of ill news, but King Rethon died, apparently he had an abnormal sensitivity to an herb in his afternoon tea. His only remaining relative, a senior Lieutenant in my Legion, just happened to be within the borders of the country when we heard the news.”

 

“You lie, Whitecloak. Rethon had two sisters, three nephews, four nieces by blood, as well as his own acknowledged bastard daughter.”

 

“Then I have more bad news for you, witch.” His smile was pure malice.

 

He gestured, and from behind her came a pair of whitecloak soldiers flanking a man in a whitecloak uniform with the Altaran crown on his brow. Finally feeling clear enough to reach for the source, Gera opened herself up to the One Power and let it fill her. She wrapped them all in flows of Air.

 

“Lord Captain, you should not have let me wake. If I were dead, I would not be foiling your plans right now.” With another weave, she gagged them all, and then moved them to the center of the room. Opening the door, she saw dozens more whitecloak goons. Slamming the door closed, she sealed it using Earth on the lock mechanism.

 

It was times like these that Gera wished she kept a Warder, but luckily times like this were few and far between. Lifting the Lord Captain in front of her, Gera burst the door open with Earth, Fire, and Air. The whitecloaks in the hall would not shoot their crossbows at her for fear of striking their Lord Captain. At the end of the hall, Gera saw a shining silver arch. She also saw the one hundred whitecloaks standing between her and that arch.

 

Somehow she knew passing through the arch was more important than anything, even preventing the Whitecloaks from forcibly taking the throne of Altara. As she stepped forward, they all brandished weapons. She knew that they were no real threat to her, so she couldn’t use the Power as a weapon, but she wanted to. She hoisted the Lord Captain in front of her, and wove a shield of Air around them both to block any attacks from those foolish enough to think they might be successful.

 

As she reached the arch, she backed through it, and as she did, the Power was gone. As were all the Whitecloaks. Suddenly, she realized that she had her back to the room. Turning around, she saw the Amyrlin standing with sisters from all of the Ajahs. Gera came to kneel in front of the Amyrlin, and felt the water pour over her head in a trickle.

 

“You are washed clean of Gera Mondwin, of Cairhien. You are washed clean of all the ties that bind you to the World. You come to us washed clean in heart and soul. You are Gera Mondwin, Accepted of the White Tower.”

 

The Amyrlin pulled Gera to her feet, and kissed her on the cheeks. “Welcome home, Daughter.”