Snakes and Foxes [attn: Bethelynne]

[Sirayn]

Icy winds drove rain against her window panes. It cascaded down the leaded glass in an endless stream; behind her candles danced and their pinpoint reflections wavered, pale as ghosts, in that wash of water. Blackness had gathered in the sky like the sweep of an immense wing … perhaps that of a raven, the Dark One’s spy, whose vast shadow turned Tar Valon dark. The sight of the famous ivory walls shrouded by the raging storm struck her as too ominous for comfort. She drew the curtains together, sealing out the hammering rain, and closed herself into an island of warmth and golden silence.

 

Comfortable disorder ruled across her quarters. She had removed anything a novice should not see, she was expecting a visitor after all, but enough remained to paint a truthful picture of its occupant; dozens of books, papers in various states of disarray, a bottle of something that looked black and toxic, a dagger whose dark blade bore a stylised rose, maps and ink and half-finished work. The desk she had cleared, or at least pushed all the papers to one end exposing the polished dark wood, to lay out something she rarely removed from a drawer. Black lines and arrows covered a piece of red cloth; pale wooden discs stood stacked up on either side, one wave-marked stack for the snakes, one triangle-marked stack for the foxes, plus a single ebony black piece for each player.

 

Centuries ago she had spent many a lazy afternoon playing this game in warm green woods far from here, just a child herself, and more recently her own children had puzzled over the same seemingly simple game. Most people gave it up when they realised that the only way to win was to cheat. Courage to strengthen, fire to blind, music to dazzle, iron to bind! Her life was too busy for children’s games now … but she suspected that Snakes and Foxes might open up a way to a larger game, one of far greater interest to her, the Great Game of Houses. So the board game lay arrayed on her desk, counters at her fingertips as she settled into her chair, awaiting her visitor.

 

Like a thief, she had sticky fingers where it came to novices who caught her interest, as the beautifully behaved and otherwise fascinating Rossa could attest. Initiates were the Tower’s future, of course, and so much easier to catch than Aes Sedai; they thirsted for knowledge, hungered to prove themselves, not to mention the obedience schooled into them by life in whites. In a way she liked their innocence even as she knew it would never survive -- a transient sense like the brief life of a flower. But novices had other qualities and ones which charmed her much better.

 

Intelligence, for example, and discretion. The ability to lie. Soon enough the First Oath stilled lying tongues and took away all their deceitful promise; they clamoured for use before they could be silenced forever. Independence … but not too much, of course, lest they turn traitor as quick as certain Tower Guards she had had the displeasure of knowing. All skills she had read into Bethelynne a’Raposa during their interesting little lessons together. That class had shown little promise on the whole, infested as it was with Estel’s sulking spawn and various ill-mannered children, but other than Rossa and her Cairhienin shadow it was Novice Bethelynne who had drawn her attention.

 

Not wanting to arouse comment, she had spoken only briefly with the girl after the last lesson, but long enough to arrange a meeting tonight. In the meantime an interesting little visit to the Mistress of Novices had stoked her curiosity further. However successful her gambit proved, she thought Bethelynne might provide a night’s diversion from her work, and perhaps further-reaching consequences beside. Hence she waited for her guest to arrive so the games could begin.

 

Sirayn Damodred

Retro Head of the Green Ajah

[raposa]

She was dripping wet and shivering. Slippers in one hand, hair plastered to her skull, indecently transparent dress clinging to her body, Beth raced through the hallways like a mad woman. She must have looked like a sewer rat running for its life, but she had no time for proper behavior or dignity. She was going to be late and could not afford to be so. Burn that evil Brown and her insistence that Beth run a message to the Master at Arms’ office at the far end of the Tower Grounds in the rain!

 

Her room in sight, she called out for help and a mousey girl she'd only seen in passing poked her head out of the door to her own tiny room, eyes widening at the sight of a near frantic Beth. "I'm late! Help me change?" The girl--Geira?--giggled, but fell in with Beth and they both exploded into Beth's sorry excuse for a living space. Two slippers struck the wall, one white dress was thrown onto her roommate's bed, one shift--soaked all the way through--and one set of undergarments were all shed haphazardly and exchanged for a fresh set of blessedly dry clothing. She breathed a thank you and dashed back into the hallway, leaving the wet clothes where they were.

 

Although Beth knew where to find them, she had never visited the Green Ajah quarters. She didn't know whether to count it good or bad fortune, but she had met only a handful of Greens and only one had taken more than the most casual interest in her. That one of such curious repute would require a private audience with her after a very curious interaction in an otherwise ordinary class required punctuality, if not every last wit the poor girl could muster.

 

Rounding a corner, she grabbed a passing novice. The girl squeaked in surprise and then pulled away sharply, off-put by Beth's state of urgency. "I'm so sorry, my dear," said Beth in a rush, "but I am afraid I may be late for a very important engagement!" The girl, snooty beyond imagining, smoothed her skirts as if to wipe away some filthy residue that Beth had left on her and said nothing. Beth, having no time for games, ignored it and the impression she was surely making. "Please."

 

The girl smiled--sneered, really--and made much ado about the fact that “silly new girls” like Beth really should be more mindful of the time before asking how she could be of service. "Sirayn Sedai. Where are her rooms?" Light, but Beth wished she could revel in the way the girl's sneer turned into a look of puzzlement before she sent Beth running off in the right direction.

 

She arrived at the tall, wooden doors just as the bells announced the fifth hour past high noon. Running a hand through her still-wet hair, Beth took a deep breath and knocked timidly on the door.

 

OOC: Not sure how they tell time in RandLand, but I thought it sounded close enough. :)

[raposa]

*nudge*