Turnings of the Wheel, or Gera finds her purpose...

[Phelix]

Weaving the power still gave Gera a thrill, though she didn’t let it show. Today, she was practicing with weaves of Air and Water. It still chagrined her a bit to be so typical. Women were, by and large, stronger in Air and Water... Gera had spent most of her life thinking of herself as exceptional, and to find herself as being just like most other women was a blow to her ego. Still, she was fairly strong in those powers, and while she had her strengths she wasn’t what anyone would call weak in the others.

 

It helped to let her mind wander as she let the power flow through her. If any novice tried to do so, she’d snap them back to attention quicker than they could worry about the Mistress of Novices. Being Accepted had some perks.

 

She was practicing weaving solid objects from air and water, then testing them against each other. So far, a blade of water would break into mist when it struck her blade of air. Of course, she wasn’t weaving anything that could actually be used as a weapon... these were just experiments on her part. She could make the air more solid, forcing the flows to be as tight as possible, which made the water crash off it much like a wave would. Though, if she tightened the water’s flows, it almost formed a rigid blade of ice.

 

The messenger found her sitting there in the garden, staring intently at a blade of solidified air that looked like crystal and its pair made of ice. The novice handed her the envelope, curtsied and left. It was rare for Accepted to get messages, especially ones that were hand delivered. Releasing the weaves for the blades, Gera broke the seal on the envelope, and read the message over and over again.

 

Mistress Mondwin,

 

I regret to inform you of the death of your son. He was found this morning, dead in his bed with his woman. Their son was found dead in his room as well. Of course, the crown’s city guard are looking into these vicious murders, but as of yet there is scant evidence. Please accept our condolences.

 

Baron Faighan

Captain

City Guard

 

Below the signature was a mark. To anyone else, it would be an ink stain or a blotch in the weave of the paper, but not to Gera. It was a small circle with a tiny thorn darting out to the left. It was the real signature on the page. Baron Faighan surely signed it, but whoever sealed and sent the letter was bought and paid by someone else.

 

The thorned circle was a sign she hadn’t seen in almost a decade. Then it had belonged to a man whose information gathering business was as extensive as her own. She had obviously countered him at every opportunity, eventually driving him out of business. She thought he had left the field, graceful in defeat. She thought that she had covered her tracks well, leaving with a quick, clean break.

 

She was wrong on both counts.

 

Apparently her boy couldn’t run the family business as well as she had... as well as she had thought she taught him. Did he grow lazy when his mother wasn’t there to ensure his obedience? Did he trust the wrong advisers?

 

He’d had a son... and apparently liked the boy’s mother well enough to keep them both around. She was a grandmother... or she had been.

 

Suddenly, she felt a desperate need to have the Power filling her. She didn’t even notice the tears falling down her cheeks as she clawed for the source. It wouldn’t come. She couldn’t force it to fill her, and she was as far from calm as a woman could be.

 

With a snap, it was all gone. The burning rage and enormous waves of sorrow were tamped down into her soul, and she was planning.

 

She stopped at her room to clean up her face. A tear-streaked Accepted attracted notice, even if most assumed she’d been sent to visit The Old Biddy. Once she was presentable, she went down to the gates, and quietly walked out into the city. After a decent amount of time, she hired a litter to carry her to visit her banker.

 

The woman was unfailingly polite, and she handled the transaction quickly. Gera simply wanted five hundred crowns, in gold. A bank as successful as this one always kept that on hand, just for situations like this.

 

Once she had the money, Gera drank a glass of wine with the banker and made polite chatter. It wouldn’t do for the woman to think Gera was planning to leave her for another banker.

 

Outside, she borrowed a dark cloak to cover her white gown with its banded hems, and quietly walked to the less reputable part of town, after instructing her litter bearers to wait for her at the bank.

 

In a small, seedy tavern, she found what she was looking for. A man. A very deadly man. In her previous life, she had only had to use this man once... and that was to remove a High Seat who had gone to war against Gera. Since then, he had left Cairhien to spend his days in Tar Valon. He was part of the reason she had decided to take up the Tower’s offer. If he was here, she wouldn’t have to watch over her shoulder, in case he was paid to come for her.

 

“Jetin, I have a job for you.” She spoke quietly, but knew he could hear her across the table.

 

“Well, Gera, I see the rumors of you taking up with witches are true. I didn’t think they were... good thing I didn’t bet on it.” He looked her in the eyes, “I am fairly certain the women of the Tower frown on their initiates hiring out for murders.”

 

“Whether they frown or not, my boy was killed.” She passed the bag of gold across the table to Jetin, withdrawing a single crown. “I want you to kill the man that killed my boy and my grandson.”

 

Before he could speak, she drew on saidar, weaving fire and air, she smoothed out the image pressed into the coin’s sides, and replaced them with a large spider. Her enemies had always called her the Spider-bitch... it would serve as her calling card. Jetin watched her with the wary eyes most men wore when dealing with channeling women.

 

“When he’s dying, shove this down his throat and tell him that Gera watches over her own.”

 

Jetin merely nodded, which was enough for Gera to climb to her feet and leave.

 

Weeks passed, and her lessons faltered. It was damnably hard to study knowing her assassin hadn’t reported back yet. When he finally did, he came back to report a successful mission. The man who had destroyed the last of her blood kin was now dead himself.

 

Sitting alone in the same garden where she first received the letter, Gera wept again. It had to happen sooner or later. Working with the Power extended your lifespan. She was always going to outlive her son and his son, and even his son... but she hadn’t thought it would happen so quickly. So soon.

 

Something inside her twisted then, growing harder. She had reached out, from within the Tower’s walls, this time to avenge her last blood kin... but it would not happen ever again. Now the Tower was her kin. The ageless women would be her sisters, and she would have to use her less scrupulous skills to care for this greater good.

 

The Tower cared for the world, and the world needed it with the Last Battle coming so quickly. All she had left was the tower, and she would do right by it. She would take her dirty, bloody hands and use them to build up the stainless White Tower. If her readings in the History books had taught her nothing, it was that the Tower used the skills each sister brought, and used them as thoroughly as possible.

 

Women who were strong negotiators were sent to broker treaties, which favored the Tower of course. Those who could weave battle weaves were stationed near the Blight to help the Borderlanders defend against the Trolloc hordes. There were thinkers, researchers, and librarians... all dedicated to building up the Tower using what skills and talents they have.

 

The Tower would use Gera’s skills. She could gather information, see the ripples it would cause, and manipulate those same ripples. She knew how to find the right man to do the right job... if that was seeking out information or killing another man, she knew who to hire.

 

While these skills were far from the public face of what an Aes Sedai should be... the Tower would still use her and her skills. She would still be part of saving the world as it hurtled toward the Last Battle. Now that her son was dead, that was all she could really hope for.

 

Kneeling there, her face blotchy with tears, Gera began practicing her weaves again. She had to pass the test to become Aes Sedai soon if she was going to be any good to the World.