Days of Future Passed - Rossa's Arches

[Winter Mist]

~Rossa~

 

She pondered. Rossa thought about lots of things sat on the edge of her bed, her gaze flickering out of the small window of the room she shared with two other girls. Nerome was probably doing his training about now … why did her thoughts keep returning to him rather than concentrating on what she knew best – politics? Schooled from the time she could stand upright, Rossa Venye knew that one day her entire world would revolve around the Great Game, and playing one rival against another for personal advancement. In her time at the White Tower, Rossa had noticed that it was not really that much different within the walls of Tar Valon to those of the Tarasin Palace in Ebou Dar for intrigues and other plots. Forcefully putting Nerome out of her mind, Rossa concentrated on the text that lay beside her, a page or so that she had found in the library about food preservation techniques – dry fodder for learning indeed, to some, but to Rossa it was a very clever tool in a very involved game. Politics. The Lord or Lady that was able to provide for those he or she cared for when times were hard, the one that taught those methods to others so they could look after themselves, was far more likely to be popular than someone that lowered taxes. Possibly not in the short term, but in the long run someone that offered food and education was a better leader than one that wanted pure popularity and profit. In Rossa’s opinion at least… Picking up the sheets again, she studied the text and picked it apart.

 

The most common preservation technique is salting. Salt draws moisture from the food and creates an environment that will stop it from spoiling. Food is cut into smallish pieces and laid on top of a layer of salt, spaced apart from each other so that it does not touch and then has more salt packed around it. This is particularly common in barrels. Another fairly common method is smoking. Some woods, when burnt, will create a protective layer around a piece of food and dry it out, making it last longer…

 

This was fairly basic housekeeping information that at least one person would know about. In coastal areas, such as Altara where Rossa herself hailed from, it would most likely be fish that was salted or smoked. Further inland, she knew it would be meats that were salted or cured. She’d heard how tasty salted pork was supposed to be, and Andoran cured hams, but had yet to have the privilege. Maybe when she was raised to the shawl she might go travelling the countryside trying to find these things out first hand… A peasant might bend knee to accept food, but he or she might well revolt if the food was revolting too. Channelling keeping weaves, that was what Rossa really interested in learning more about, but her training was progressing at the same slow pace as the other novices. It surprised her that her goals in life had shifted slightly. Her aims of revenge were still in place, but now it was surpassed by a desire to shine as an Aes Sedai and restore glory to her family name by that method. Rossa dwelt on her training and progression, as well as her parents and siblings, and put her head in her hands because she could scarcely remember their faces without resorting to pulling out the figurines of them she carried at all times in her belt pouch. A knock at the door heralded the end to her musings. Putting aside the paper and straightening her hair, Rossa got off the bed and opened the door, expecting to see an Accepted to give her another chore. She was wholly unprepared to see the Mistress of Novices.

 

“Novice Rossa Venye, you are to take the test to become an Accepted, follow me please.”

 

Nodding her acquiescence, Rossa fell in step behind the stately Aes Sedai and immediately her mind started working. The measured pace of the Mistress of Novices was indicative of something, as though this were a special occasion. Watching the fabric of her dress shift subtly, the hem brushing the polished tile floor, Rossa speculated. And noted that the woman wore her shawl, so the occasion had to be official. She must have been deemed ready or else the woman would not be here, guiding her to the next part of destiny. They stopped outside a door deep in the bowels of the White Tower, and for the first time Rossa felt a pang of worry. Would it be painful? Would this test hurt? Why else would it be so far removed from where others might hear? The doors opened on well-oiled hinges, and the Mistress of Novices ushered Rossa into the room.

 

Oddly, the focal point of the room was not what Rossa thought it should be. The ceiling was large and domed, disappearing to a point only dimly visible and to her it was very curious indeed. It was strange that something was built so deeply underneath the White Tower itself should have a domed roof. A dome would open upwards – did that mean there was some hidden space between the outside of the roof and the next floor? Was it solid stone? Was there someone listening up there … or watching? It gave her cause for concern and curiosity, but her attention was diverted by the ter’angreal in front of her mahogany gaze. Three rounded silver arches that appeared to be just tall enough for a person to walk through comfortably were sat on a silver ring, thick and metallic, shining back into the room. At each juncture where silver met silver, sat an Aes Sedai with a look of concentration on her face. Another Aes Sedai attended a small table on which three silver chalices rested and seemed to contain water. Like the Mistress of Novices, all the Aes Sedai present were wearing their shawls, another telltale sign of the importance of what was. Leaning to speak into Rossa’s ear, the Mistress of Novices began the ceremony.

 

“There about to occur are 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. 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.”

 

“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, Aes Sedai.” She had to push the words up from a throat choked with a sense of emotion and tinged with fear. Rossa had never feared physical pain or discomfort since the day her family’s mansion had been burnt to the ground and she had barely escaped with her life, but not being able to survive to see her goals fulfilled daunted her. It scared her more than she cared to admit. A voice, female, clear and true from behind the table began to speak. It begins…

 

“Whom do you bring with you, Sister?”

 

The Mistress of Novices responded. “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.” The look on the Aes Sedai’s face was blank, but there was a faint hint of compassion around her eyes. She had been there herself; she had been through this already. If this one had overcome it, so could Rossa. Determination welled in her as the Mistress of Novices turned to her and asked her to undress fully in order to begin the test. She pulled dress and shift over her head and left them in a small neat pile to one side, with stockings and her belt pouch on top. Hoping no one would go through it and see the figurines, Rossa felt more naked without her familial presence than she did without the dress. But then she’d always thought she had funny notions of modesty… A gentle pressure on her shoulder indicated to Rossa that now she had to be ready. The first Arch beckoned to her, filled with a soft white glow…

 

“The first time is for what was. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

She stepped through, and was enveloped by light.

 

The tutor droned on and on about the different types of fish you could put in ponds and ornamental fountains. Apparently it kept the water cleaner if it had certain kinds of fish in, which meant you didn’t have to change it as often and therefore saved coin. Rossa yawned, and realised that something wasn’t right. For a start, she wasn’t wearing her white novice dress, but a gown of seawater silk. It gleamed pale greens and blues, shimmering in waves about her ankles when she shifted position and impossibilities sat all around her. Her two sisters sat talking about dresses in hushed whispers that they were certain the tutor couldn’t hear, and her brother paid rapt attention to a small insect that crawled across the top of his small desk. This isn’t right! Dismissing them to homework and further study on the various cost-cutting methods a landowner could employ, her siblings drifted away, chatting as they usually did and ignoring Rossa, as they usually did. It hurt to see her family alive.

 

Oh, Light.

 

Mother.

 

Tall and elegant, with a steely look in eyes she knew were a mirror for her own, her mother stood at the door having allowed her children to pass. The russet silk she wore accentuated her colouring perfectly. And brought tears to Rossa’s eyes. A thousand unsaid words, a simple “I love you;” everything Rossa had ever meant to say but had never got the chance caught in her throat and filled her eyes with tears. Why now? Why such intolerable cruelty? Words were falling from her mother’s lips that Rossa clung to, and whenever she tried to get a word in edgeways, her mother silenced her with a single look. It seemed she was always going to defer to the woman, in spite of her attempts to talk. Something twigged at her memory that this was very, very, wrong, but she could not put her finger on it. Dismissed by her mother with so many questions on her lips, Rossa went to her room and prepared for bed, but she could not find sleep.

 

It didn’t touch her all night. Lying there, she imagined the clock on the mantelpiece chiming the middle of the night, the hands turning to complete the wheel of time. Acrid smoke filtered under her door and made Rossa’s eyes water, constricting her throat and making her cough. No! Not again! Crackling noises caught her ear, and a deep bass rumble permeated the atmosphere. The air was thick. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast. She could hear it in her head, echoing, grating in her ears. Mother! Father! Scrambling, she pushed back the covers and fell to her knees, trying to find some air that wasn’t full of the smoke. Dallying would be deadly, to be either trapped in this burning building or trapped in the ter’angreal, and Rossa knew she should not feed fuel to the emotions that would make her stay. It was death – madness – to stay.

 

It didn’t stop her wanting to though.

 

Her heart ached as knees grazed and bleeding dragged her body out of the room onto the landing, where she had to promptly stand to avoid catching her nightdress on fire. The roiling sensation in her stomach deepened as she saw the silvery arch at the end of the landing, past doorways filled with flame and pain. And her ears heard a voice that tore her heart to pieces…

 

“ROSSA!”

 

No! Anything but this! She could be strong, she would be as iron to the world, but Light, don’t make her face this! The voice, her mother’s, seemed to be emanating from the third doorway down, and it was a world of grief and hurt. Over and over, it called her name, Rossa … Rossa … ROSSA! And the doorway at the end of the landing stood implacably, reminding her of future and a life on her own, alone. A hand became visible, followed by her mother’s dishevelled face, soot and ash marring her beautiful face and a cut above her left temple seeming black where blood ran in the darkness. Flames crackled all around them, etching a fiery tableau into her mind that would never fully dissipate. Not that she’d want to. It made her backbone stiffening, feeling resolve creep back into her, Rossa started moving for the doorway with tears rolling down her face. Their eyes met, and the blood and life drained out of her. So much despair, so much pain – she’d never forget this moment. The doorway … she had to get to the doorway. If she could get help… Rossa ran. It was the hardest thing she had ever had to do; harder than escaping the building the first time, harder by far than any grief in the knowledge of what had happened to her family and far harder than anything she had done as a novice. She reached the silvery arch, and light engulfed her.

 

The chamber greeted her, along with the unfathomable faces of the Aes Sedai and the Mistress of Novices greeted her. From beside the table, the sister holding a chalice walked forward and stood right in front of Rossa. As the tears rolled down Rossa’s grief-contorted face, crystal clear water rolled over her head and slicked her hair to her head, rolling over her body. She had completely forgotten her nudity, but did not care. How could they do that to her? How? One thing was certain to her though. She would not forget this. Revenge had been what had brought her to the White Tower in the first place and it had remained a rock to cling to through the hardest times. Rossa still fully intended to shine as an Aes Sedai and restore glory to her name! Words accompanied the dripping water, forming a puddle around her feet.

 

“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.”

 

She would never be clean of what had happened. Her mother’s eyes would haunt her until the day she died. Dimly, Rossa was aware of a hand on her shoulder, urging her towards the second arch. And so began the second trial…

 

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

 

Pain filled Rossa, her heart in pieces and her soul despairing. She screamed her defiance to the assembled Aes Sedai and ran through, angry and bitter. Light claimed her.

 

The familiarity of her novice dress greeted her, along with a sense of contentment. A pencil fit her hand like a sword in a Warder’s, and it flew across the page. A smile, so alien to her somehow yet so … right, painted her lips. She gave her work the appraising eye of an artist and surveyed her model once more, and then giggled. Nerome stood in one of the forms with a rolled up piece of paper as a pretend blade, a heroic expression on his face and the sight of him performing Lizard in the Thornbush. As though mid-pose, Rossa sketched him, wanting to capture a little piece of him that she could also carry around with her in her belt pouch. Genuine joy filled her eyes as he shifted his position to Heron Wading in the Rushes. He did look funny in that, and Rossa giggled again. Nerome looked sternly at her and she bit her lip.

 

“I’m sorry.” She apologised contritely. Something wasn’t right about this situation either; it felt too idyllic, too perfect. Rising, Rossa’s novice dress brushed her ankles. She laid a hand on his shoulder and tucked the pencil behind her ear, looking up into his eyes. And wished she were taller. Here was one person that Rossa felt she could rely on above all others, and that had nothing to do with the fact that, quite frankly, she considered him to be gorgeous! It was unfair that a man should have such long eyelashes – they nearly brushed his cheeks, whereas Rossa had been known to smudge on a fine powder on occasions when she wanted to impress. Feeling truly happy, she smiled.

 

“Don’t be.” The reply came back. It was strange how it made her smile wider. “Rossa?” His voice held a tinge of question to it. She loved the way he said her name. Rossa. “When you are raised to the shawl, and I am a Tower Guard, you would be able to bond me…” He trailed off uncertainly, not knowing how she would respond. Was he asking her to ask him to bond him when she became Aes Sedai? It certainly seemed that way.

 

“The way will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

Light, why now? Why, of all times, did the bloody arch have to appear just when she was finding a chance at happiness? She saw Nerome, her future, her happiness … everything, rolled into such a handsome package and he liked her too.

 

“Nerome, I…” She would ask him! She had not come this far only to be thrown back a step. Besides, if she could work up the courage to ask him here, it would be easier when she had to ask him for real. This seemed pretty real though. “Nerome. When I am raised to the shawl, I would like nothing more than for you to be my Warder. Would you accept?” Oh, Light, this was hard. Why was there never to be any light-forsaken happiness in her life? Before he could answer, Rossa looked him in the eyes decisively. “Be ready for me. I’ll be back soon.” She didn’t want to go. Could she take Nerome with her?

 

“Rossa… Where are you going?” Rossa couldn’t answer. Her throat was too constricted to talk and there was an icy lump in her stomach. It beat cruelly cold butterfly wings against her insides – she was giving up potentially the only chance at happiness in her life. A lingering touch on his hand, so warm, so alive! She pulled her fingers away and turned, her novice dress flickering up as she sped towards the silvery archway and back to the reality that would pain her so much. Reaching the frame, Rossa looked over her shoulder at the puzzled expression on Nerome’s face and shook her head sadly. She had known all her life, since her earliest childhood that her love life would be arranged, but to have her own choices removed… Was this love? It confused her. Light! She walked onwards, and vanished.

 

Water trickled over her head once more, and Rossa blinked to clear it. Remembrance flooded back to her of what had happened in the second arch. And so the Aes Sedai with the chalice spoke once more.

 

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

 

At least this was easier to deal with. The attachment, while it ran deep through Rossa, was not as deep as the one she had with her family. Again, it didn’t stop the tears from falling down her face. It was more the sense of loss and the despair of never knowing happiness without it being torn from her that caused her eyes to water. If she thought it would have done any good, Rossa would have asked why it was so unnecessarily cruel, but she didn’t. It was pointless. The same pressure on her bare shoulder roused Rossa enough back to the present to recognise the Aes Sedai still concentrating on the silvery construction, shimmering through some vague haze that might have been her own intense concentration or some effect of the ter’angreal itself. She had no questions to ask of the Mistress of Novices, whose hand it had been on her shoulder, but the respite from such infinite grief in the form of a few moments of knowing love had restored enough of her personality to look around rationally. Maybe she had grown up a little…

 

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

 

She knew the routine by now. Stepping forward confidently, wanting to get it over with, Rossa walked forward with her shoulders and her back straight, her gaze fixed on getting this last obstacle out of the way. If for no other reason than going to her bedroom and falling on her bed, and not getting up until they were soaked with her own tears. Rossa knew she would cry herself to sleep over what she had seen so far. Rumours spoke that the final arch was the worst. What would this portal portend? Stepping forward, Rossa advanced into the arch.

 

She felt exhausted, drained. There was little left inside her, not now the child was born, and that strength which remained, Rossa knew she needed to conserve and nurture in order to return to her duties and also to protect the child. Hours had passed since the birth, a time of pain and blood, and a time of life. The bundle of life held in swaddling clothes by a nearby attendant was quiet now, having bawled its lungs clear on arrival and now dozed peacefully, unaware of the controversy it was born to. Its parentage was never in question – a long-forgotten descendant of House Venye, removed from its walls at one time due to a threat to her life and sequestered somewhere safe. The father was also of noble blood, of Cairhienin blood in order to cement political advantages within the courts in both of their countries and now the heir would return to its rightful place as the ruler of House Venye. When it came of age, of course. Rossa did not even know the gender of the child she had borne, having passed out from the pain at the crucial moment. And now, coming around slowly, the room swimming back into focus, Rossa felt a pull at her heart to see the infant. An imperious hand, older than she remembered, lifted to the nursemaid and her voice called out to the woman.

 

“You there. Bring my child to me!” Light, her voice sounded weak. This wasn’t right … as far as she remembered she had barely even kissed Nerome, let alone … Rossa blushed. The woman, tall and upright as though an iron rod held her spine in place, turned and gave Rossa a cold, clinical stare.

 

“It isn’t wise to let an attachment form if you’re going to be giving her up.” Rossa opened her mouth as a tiny pink fist rose from the bundle of clothes and almost rose in a salute to her mother. A daughter of her own, that she would never know or be able to teach. The family she was going to though would raise her daughter as their own and teach her the real history of House Venye so that would not be forgotten. The “parents” were from the village looked after by her family – they knew Rossa and would make certain the heritage was preserved. But couldn’t she hold her daughter just once?

 

“Please. I want to hold me daughter.”

 

“I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t.”

 

Rossa had had enough of this woman. She was strong enough to get out of bed, so she could hold her daughter. Fiorina… I was going to call you Fiorina. She had some determination when she wanted to. Rossa pushed herself to her feet and walked on towards the nursemaid who looked at her with shock. And she held out her arms to the woman. A cold, level stare greeted her in response. Light, Rossa knew she had put plans in place to make sure her child would be cared for with as little disruption to her life as Aes Sedai as possible, but she had hoped for more time than this! Building her strength up, she pulled her daughter, her Fiorina, away from the woman and turned to walk out of the chamber.

 

“The way will come but once. Be steadfast.”

 

No! This was too cruel, even by the White Tower’s standards. Now there was no choice – she had to leave her daughter behind because she could not take her back with her. Rossa did not know what would happen if she tried and she was not about to risk her daughter’s life on a maybe. The corridor passed her by silently, her own feet making the only noise until she saw a pair of legs. Nerome. She could stay here with him, a family! She could play her own part in a family that she had never had the chance to enjoy.

 

“Oh, Nerome!” Rossa cried, near stumbling, but his capable hands held her and his face softened as he saw the grave little face that peered from blankets in her mother’s arms. The silver archway was right beside him, tearing her heart in two directions at once – to stay and be a mother and be with those she loved, or to face untold hardships in a reality she knew was right. What choice was this? “Here, please, help me, Nerome… Take … Fiorina … make her safe. Don’t let…” Tears choked her, she could not see for them now. “Don’t let her forget me. Don’t you forget me, please?” She kissed him then, pressing little Fiorina into his hands and, her heart breaking painfully, plunged into the archway, where she was absorbed by painful light…

 

Rossa stumbled and fell to her knees, sobbing. More figures were in the room with her, more than the original Aes Sedai seated around the silvery ter’angreal and a figure she had not expected to see. Even through the blur of tears, it was impossible not to recognise the seven-striped stole of the Amyrlin. Blue, Brown, Green, Gray, Red, White and Yellow shawls adorned each woman not sat around the object of her torment. Remembering what she was taught, Rossa pushed herself to her feet and walked to the Amyrlin Seat and knelt. The ground felt alien to her; her entire being was shaking with the pain of her loss. And more water cascaded over her, tumbling over sweat-soaked dark brown hair and plastering it to her head. She blinked to clear some of the water and the tears, and heard the words sealing her fate.

 

“You are washed clean of Rossa Venye of Ebou Dar. You are washed clean of all ties that bind you to the world. You come to us washed clean in heart and soul. You are Rossa Venye, Accepted of the White Tower.”

 

“You are sealed to us, now. Welcome, daughter.” The silver goblet is passed on to the Aes Sedai to the Amyrlin’s left, and a Great Serpent ring appeared, only to be pushed onto Rossa’s finger - the third finger of her left hand. A careful hand pulled her to her feet, and the Amyrlin leant towards Rossa, kissing first one cheek and then the other. “Welcome.” The fact that she had survived the trial of becoming Accepted and on to the next stage of her training was scant consolation to what she had seen. Such a price…