Chapter Text
“What?” Moiraine managed to choke out, even as her jaw wanted to tighten and never open again.
“Treason. And conspiracy, misuse of the One Power, embezzlement, and the breaking of a sacred Oath.” As Cadsuane listed off the charges, she almost frowned. Almost. Moiraine’s head was spinning far too much to make sense of that. “How do you plead?”
Moiraine spared a quick look around at the Sitters; some looked uncomfortable but she didn’t know whether it was the nature of the charges or the fact that they were being made. Alanna was the only one to have the audacity to stare daggers at Cadsuane while the Reds all smiled to themselves. “What is this? A trial?” She put effort into keeping her voice even, confident, but didn’t know how good of a pretense she was making.
“Yes,” Cadsuane said simply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it was if she had her head screwed on properly.
“I was not informed there were charges standing against me.” She knew the law. Formal matters of trial for crimes such as treason, whilst rare, required notice, time to prepare a defense. Light knew she needed it.
“There was an attempt, many, but it seemed that no one quite knew where to find you. Some may call that evading the law.”
Moiraine swallowed. There was an effort to find her? She hadn’t been advertising her location since the Last Battle, but it didn’t take a tracking ward to find her either on her estate or in Malkier. And… well she had memories of being in the Tower after the Last Battle, but that must have been a trick of her memory. “I would have to know the law wanted me in order to evade it, Mother.” She added the title with some difficulty.
“Indeed you would. Now your plea.”
“Not guilty.” She spoke the words perhaps before she thought them through. Considering each of the charges, well some were obviously false — she never broke any Oath — but others… did they really know about the embezzlement? She could feel the Sitters shift behind her though no one dared to speak above Cadsuane.
For what it was worth, the Amrylin Seat herself looked on almost approvingly. What game was she playing at? “Very well. I will leave the Ajahs to conduct their questions before a vote and sentencing.” Moiraine was almost irritated at the need for detail. She did know how a trial worked in the Hall, though she didn’t particularly like how Cadsuane said sentencing as if her guilt was already determined.
Cadsuane nodded at the Reds to begin the questioning. There. That was confirmation as to where these charges came from. Unsurprising.
Viria Connoral stood as their speaker. “You pledged your loyalty to the Dragon Reborn over the White Tower, do you deny this?”
Moiraine relaxed slightly. This was an easy answer. “I pledged my loyalty to the Light, the ultimate power that the White Tower is bound to serve.”
“We are not questioning whether you are a Darkfriend, Lady Damodred.” Moiraine burned at the use of that title. She ought to be ‘Moiraine Sedai’ in the Hall. It caused outrage and rumor the first time Siuan called her that, which was exactly the point, but now the Hall was silent. “We are questioning whether you have committed crimes against the White Tower,” she paused, near enough to hesitating, “and whether you are held to the Tower at all.”
“What do you mean?”
Viria’s smile was full of poison. “Forgive me for pointing out the obvious, but you are not all that you once were. The Tower is unaware of what could cause such a dramatic reduction in strength other than to be stilled and Healed.” Moiraine pressed that bubble of anger inside of her down and down. Imagine the bud of a flower… “And if that is the case then you are not held to the Three Oaths, you have not sought re-entry into the Ajah you purport to be a member of, and you are not Aes Sedai.” Viria sat down, obviously pleased with herself.
Moiraine didn’t give into the sputtering and pleading that the Reds, possibly others, so dearly wanted. It didn’t surprise her, it shouldn’t have with the titles and her short treatment as if she were an outsider. Of course it was an appalling accusation to make, even in times such as these, and one that was certainly untrue. “I was never stilled and I am bound by the Three Oaths just as you.”
Both the speakers from the Grey and White Ajahs race to their feet, but the White — Ferane Neheran, a woman Moiraine considered old when she was first raised to the shawl still retained her quickness and cleared her throat first. “We cannot take your word for truth as if you were stilled, you could lie, could you not?” Moiraine nodded, albeit reluctantly. Light, her life would be substantially easier if she could lie. “And more to the point, you are breaking an oath by being in this very Hall.” As she paused, for something of dramatic effect — how very unlike a White — but Moiraine realized her line of argument and her mouth went dry and her head was sent spinning again. “You swore upon the sacred Oath Rod pledging your absolute obedience to the Amrylin Seat and yet here you are, returned from an exile that was never commuted in the Amrylin Seat’s very presence.”
Moiraine dug her fingernails into her palms harder still as she searched for an explanation. The bud of a flower. “I…” she began, but there was no amount of mental clarity that would allow her to say anything but the truth. And the truth might be more incriminating than anything. “I never swore my obedience to the Amrylin Seat.”
Ferane looked at her and frowned. She had cold eyes. “It was recorded in the Hall records and several sisters here could vouch as witnesses. Would you ask us to ignore the evidence of our own eyes?”
“I took an oath but those weren’t the words I spoke,” Moiraine forced the words out before her tongue froze in indecision. “I took a personal pledge to the then-Amrylin Seat, Siuan Sanche, not to the Seat itself. The Oath died with her.” As good as a vow of wedlock she thought back then, perhaps better, but admitting it aloud…
The Hall fell silent with nary a twitch among the Sitters. At the very least, Moiraine didn’t think anyone seriously believed she wasn’t held by the Oaths because why else would she ever admit such a thing in a court of law? Yes, most Aes Sedai knew that she and Siuan were never enemies as they pretended, most probably assumed something near the truth, but admitting it…
Ferane sat down, her face still fixed into a frown. She clearly wished to continue her questions, but Moiraine could sense the hunger in the room. Everyone clearly wanted a bite out of her today. Lelaine Akashi of the Blues stood. After Alanna, Lelaine was probably the Sitter she knew best, false memories and all, but with the tone of this trial, Moiraine wasn’t naive enough to think her own Ajah, or her former friends, would protect her from this. Perhaps she had the most reason to be upset with her and Siuan both being from the Blues and their conspiracy leading to the Blue Ajah being scrubbed from the Tower, and a not inconsiderable number of lives lost. Light, Moiraine was a fool for thinking she would be spared the consequences of her actions because of something as paper thin as her deeds and reputation.
“What exactly was the nature of your relationship to Siuan Sanche?” Lelaine asked and Moiraine might have cursed her for asking it. She bloody well knew, everyone did. Why did she have to suffer the humiliation of saying it aloud.
“Is this strictly relevant for an inquiry?” She knew it was useless to ask. The humiliation was the point. Love could be a strength, but it became a weakness more often than not. Admitting love from afar was one thing, admitting that she would have planned public spats with the Amrylin Seat in public and then crawl into her bed hours later was quite another. And that was setting aside any information sealed to the Flame, or the Hall, that Siuan slipped to her over the years. Not that she could remember half of it anyhow. For once, her loss of memories might be a boon.
Lelaine at least did her the dignity of keeping her voice even. No doubt the Reds would have managed to mock her for it. “You have been charged with conspiring to hide the Dragon’s Rebirth from the Hall and Siuan Sanche was your co-conspirator. The details of this relationship are relevant for an inquiry.”
“We were lovers.” Moiraine stared ahead, focusing on a spot to the right of Cadsuane’s shoulder to avoid what were surely gleeful smiles at the admission.
“For how long did this affair last?”
The swirl of memories swam up again.
Moiraine was dressed in white, Siuan dragging her by the hand through the Hall. “We’re not supposed to be in here,” Moiraine hissed.
“The door was unlocked.”
“If you start going through every unlocked door, you’re going to get into more trouble than when Elaida caught us sneaking down to the city last month.” Predictably, Siuan only rolled her eyes. “And,” Moiraine added emphatically, “the doors won’t be unlocked when we need them to be.”
A wicked smile crossed Siuan’s face. “Now you’re learning.” They slowed in the center of the room, right before the grand marble chair that dominated the room. Moiraine had seen its likeness before in Cairhien when she went about her own snooping through the Sun Palace’s storerooms. The sight of it made her shudder as if the woman herself was watching them. “Do you want to touch it?”
Moiraine’s eyes widened at the mere suggestion. Sneaking through the Hall of Servants was one thing — they could always pretend they were taking a shortcut — but touching the Amrylin Seat itself? “It’s probably warded. We shouldn’t— Siuan!” As Moiraine spoke, Siuan was already going to sit in the bloody thing!
“It’s not warded. Just stone.” Siuan tapped the Seat with her knuckle to demonstrate. She leaned back, looking more regal than any nobility Moiraine ever knew. The illusion was ruined by a giggle. “Come on.” She scooted over and patted the empty space.
A few months ago, Moiraine might have fainted at the suggestion of actually sitting in the Amrylin Seat, but Siuan always had a way of encouraging her to do the unthinkable. With a glance to the door, Moiraine joined Siuan. It was hard stone, harder than the Sun Throne and with none of the gold or jewels, but it held an awe to it that other thrones lacked. Even though it was wide enough that they could both comfortably sit side by side, Siuan draped herself over Moiraine, wrapping her arms around her shoulders, and pressing soft kisses to her neck. Moiraine blushed red, but she hardly thought they could get in any more trouble as it was. She kissed her back.
Moiraine blinked in the present, her blush from decades past still red on her face. “We were pillow friends as novices,” she said before anyone noticed her drifting. That was never much of a secret anyhow, but most relationships of the sort ended when women were raised to the shawl. That wasn’t where the scandal lay. “And that relationship continued until her death,” Moiraine finished. The intervening years were a confusing muddle, but she knew that much. It was certainly enough to convict her of something.
Lelaine almost looked sorry. “Would you care to change your plea?”
“No.” Moiraine retained her calm, but inside she fumed. How dare they? How dare they ask questions about the things that hardly mattered, the things closest to her heart, and not of her actions. Yes, she smashed some customs, broke a few laws, but surely that didn’t truly matter compared to the result.
Lelaine sat back down and the speaker for the Greys stood. It took Moiraine a moment to recall her name. She gripped her palms tighter. A flower. Stay present. Andaya Forae, she recited to herself, from Tarabon. Her appearance could hide her sharp tongue and sharper wits. Moiraine knew her… she knew her…
“You have been reported using several forbidden weaves, among which are balefire and Compulsion. Do you deny this?” Andaya asked, distracting Moiraine from her silent recitations.
Moiraine blinked. Balefire. She rediscovered the weave in an old book. But did she? It didn’t quite… fit. And when did she use Compulsion? “I have done what I needed to in service of the Light,” she said which was confession enough.
“But you do not deny it?”
“No.” How could she deny something she didn’t remember? The Grey sat down as if the matter was solved. Moiraine knew it was left between the Yellows, the Browns, and the Greens to ask the next question. She wondered if Alanna would join in with the questioning, what supposedly ‘easy’ question should could be given from her. But more crucially, Moiraine had a feeling what the Yellows would ask if they got even a whiff of her illness. She was close to relaxing as the questioner for the Browns stood instead, her name slipping out of Moiraine’s mind. She didn’t bother forcing herself to try and remember.
“It has come to our attention that you have an angreal in your possession that was never registered with the Tower or dispensed into your care. You do know that this is a crime, yes?”
Moiraine gritted her teeth. “I won it fairly.”
“Angreals, sa’angreals, and ter’angreals are not things to be won.” Out of all the lectures today, this was perhaps the least important, but it was no less irksome or insulting. Why should the Tower have any more right to this angreal than she did? Try as they might, they were not arbiters of everything to do with the Power. “Could you detail how this came into your possession?”
Moiraine blinked. In the minutes since learning she was called for trial, she had considered what questions might be put to her when her head wasn't spinning. The exact intimacies of her and Siuan’s relationship, their conspiracy, the web of not-quite-lies she weaved around the Tower, her recollection of events at the Eye of the World and Shayol Ghul… There were plenty of questions there that made her nervous, that she knew she couldn’t answer with any degree of accuracy, but this one…
To say it wasn’t relevant wouldn’t satisfy anyone. And, well, she knew what happened; she could answer the question and leave out the sordid details. The Tower might even honor the bargain she had made with the Finn for the angreal. But… her tongue wouldn’t move.
It wasn’t a lie. She had told the story before, in brief. So why did her mouth remain frozen as if she were bound by her Oath?
The Brown Sitter’s eyes narrowed at her.
Moiraine tried to take a breath, but she couldn’t, as if the air had been taken from the room, and her lungs were burning and—
Acrid smoke filled the air. The half broken cart Moiraine laid beneath offered little refuge from the flames. She wondered whether the fire or the lack of air would kill her first.
No, no, she shouldn’t think like that. She was alive so she would continue the fight. She tested her arms and legs. Nothing broken, but her side was sticky with blood. It didn’t matter. Pain was for later.
She ignored the burning in her lungs, her eyes, her skin, and crawled forward to the narrow opening of light. The Source was there, just, and the Sakarnen still wrapped in her pocket, but Lanfear likely thought her dead and buried in the explosion and Moiraine didn’t want to ruin that illusion just yet. Lan was there too, in a corner of her mind, laying a dozen paces away, too dazed to rise. Good. He might be safe yet.
Moiraine blinked at the daylight, still drowned in grey by the smoke, and weaves of saidar dashed through the air, faster than she could have ever thought possible to channel. She stayed on her knees, out of sight, and caught her breath. Screams flew threw the air as every weave hit their targets. Aviendha… Egwene… The laughter of a madman cut through the chaos of all else, and stung far deeper than any scream, any wound. Moiraine did all she could for Rand, but she couldn’t cure madness.
Finally she looked up. Lanfear stood resplendent in white at the top of the cart filled with ter’angreal from Rhuidean, the twisted doorway to the Eelfinn framing her like a painting. She held an angreal bracelet carved from ivory. Moiraine knew it, she placed it in the cart herself. It was one of the strongest angreal she had ever used, but far weaker than the Sakarnen so she put it back, and now…
Moiraine had seen this before. In the Rings in Rhuidean, in her dreams: one of the futures spun out before her. Most faded to vague memory, but now, here… she knew the time had come.
Her body moved as if it were held on strings, fate directing her to make that final sacrifice. She rolled the Sakarnen back under the cart. It would be found later. There was a price to taking it from Avendesora and Moiraine had always been prepared to pay it. Its use would far outlive her. She stood, brushing the dirt and soot out from her skirts because even as times such as these, appearances mattered. Lan worried. She hushed him. It was too late.
In every turning she had seen, Lanfear killed her. The circumstances changed. Sometimes it was a sacrifice, sometimes a murder, sometimes alone, sometimes in a crowd. Light, once she was in bed with the woman! There were few turnings indeed where it had ended in mutual destruction, and none where Moiraine survived.
Another explosion darted through the sky. It was time.
Moiraine darted around the back of the cart; Lanfear’s eyes were on Rand, they always were in the end. She didn’t care to listen to whatever madness she was whispering in his ear. Moiraine only prayed that she had done enough to prepare him.
Lan had gotten up, she noted distantly, he was looking for her through the smoke. And he would never find her, not even a body to bury. Moiraine hoped she had done enough to prepare him too.
She was within nearly an arm’s reach of the woman, balanced precariously on all sort of ter’angreal looted from the lost city. The flames licked them, burning boxes and supports and the soles of her boots. Fire crept up the doorway at her side. She knew it would burn but not by mortal means.
In one deft move, she embraced the Power and flung herself at the Forsaken, confusing Lanfear long enough to weasel the angreal bracelet out of her grip, putting an end to her attacks and wedging a shield around the woman. It wouldn’t hold long. It didn’t need to.
It was then that Moiraine made her only mistake: she hoped. She hoped there would be another way, that it wasn’t all over, that someone would miraculously come to her rescue. And with hope, came hesitation. She could make out Lan’s face through the smoke, his expression frozen in horror as he realized her intentions. He ran towards them.
When she first learned of her imminent death, Moiraine allowed Lan to choose whether he wanted to remain her Warder. She always knew his answer. She hoped that she might make arrangements to pass the bond to Nynaeve upon her death; Lan deserved love as much as anyone, more in fact, but there wasn’t enough time.
Moiraine allowed herself the luxury of two last acts. With that angreal in hand, she wove something forbidden, something she learned how to do long before she ever came to the Tower. Compulsion. One simple command to her Warder: live. Do what she could not.
As the weave set in place, she could feel Lanfear straining the bonds of her shield and there was little Moiraine could do to keep her in place. Lanfear’s arms wrapped around her tightly, straining for the angreal so Moiraine bucked her back, both of them, through the twisted red doorway wreathed in flames.
White light swallowed everything.
“Moiraine,” a voice said sternly.
She snapped back to the present and breathed out. No smoke. No explosions. No Forsaken. No Lan.
Moiraine still couldn’t quite focus on what she was seeing. The Hall of Servants certainly, but the architecture was all wrong, it twisted and bent at strange angles, never quite meeting, like Sindhol. The light was all wrong too; neither day nor night. And the woman speaking to her: the Amrylin Seat. Her face shifted. Cadsuane. Tamra. Siuan. Sierin. Elaida. Colors bled into one another as the clothing changed, but the stole always remained the same.
Moiraine blinked. Pinched herself. This wasn’t real. It was her mind, her illness, she was hallucinating. Stress could do that, Nynaeve had once told her, make people imagine things, even if they weren’t mad.
Nynaeve.
Moiraine could feel her worry, her fear, just outside the door. She tried to focus on that; the only thing that didn’t shift and turn.
The room slowed. Angles fit together, faces stopped swirling, but that light-headedness didn’t.
She looked upon a vision of herself, one that never was, wearing the stole, sitting in the Amrylin Seat.
This Moiraine was everything she wasn’t. Collected. Beautiful. Dignified. In control. The very picture of an Aes Sedai. And her lip curled in disgust as if looking upon a rotten meal. “What happened to you?” she sneered.
And Moiraine finally crushed that flower bud in her mind’s eye.
“What happened to me?” she hissed. “What happened was that I won! And it cost me everything. What have you done? What have you ever sacrificed?!” Her voice echoed across the Hall and as it did, Moiraine realized the shifting had stopped. Light… Cadsuane leaned back in the Seat as if she was finally interested in the proceedings. And everyone else… well Moiraine knew how to read a room. Surprise, shock, as if they hadn’t expected her to still have teeth.
Because they didn’t.
The reason for this sham trial finally hit her and she could have laughed with relief. They were afraid of her. The Tower needed to restore order, normalcy, and they didn’t like Aes Sedai who were too rebellious, too independent. They saw Nynaeve’s position as weak so they threatened to send her a teacher to keep her in line and she so dutifully obeyed. They thought Moiraine was too independent, too much of a hero, so they drew up charges that would keep her busy with penance for a decade or two to remind her of her place. This was all a show of strength, a reminder that no one was not above the Tower, not even a legend.
Moiraine suppressed a smile. Cadsuane was the first Aes Sedai the Hall reined in, with a stole around her neck to boot. Tower politics always were a battle of wills between the Hall and the Seat and perhaps for the first time, Cadsuane was losing her footing. She didn’t approve of this anymore than Moiraine. She wanted the Hall to feel afraid. She wanted a show. And Moiraine would give it to her.
“My confession is this, and please, feel free to transcribe this into the records,” Moiraine shot a look to the Keeper before continuing, “I worked for twenty years as part of a conspiracy to undermine the White Tower. I hid secrets before the Hall. I embezzled coin. I disobeyed orders. I had an affair with the Amrylin Seat. And I’ve had a rather generous interpretation of the Three Oaths. And despite all of this, you are going to grant me a pardon, an apology, and follow my demands.”
“And why should I do that?” Cadsuane’s tone hadn’t changed; serious, outraged, even mocking, and every ounce calculated. Moiraine had set the stage and now it was time to perform.
She smiled sweetly, but that didn’t lessen her bite, “Because the White Tower has lost its grip. Try as your predecessor might to unite us, there remain the Wise Ones, and the Windfinders, and the Kin, and the Asha’man, and all the wilders who don’t want to be Aes Sedai. We are not a Tower that stands above this new world, or even apart from it. And you need me a lot more than I need you. People tell stories about me, they seek my advice, my approval, they know my name. Do they know yours? Any of yours?”
Moiraine glanced around the Hall, taking her time with it, but she knew there were no smug smiles at watching a once powerful Aes Sedai brought down. There were downcast eyes, grimaces; they knew she was right. But Moiraine wasn’t done yet. No, she had been beaten for too long, she wanted to savor victory, she wanted everyone in the Hall to know exactly what their place was in the order of things. “We all fought in the Last Battle, but have any of you fought the Dark One yourself? Have any of you killed a Forsaken? Did you spend more time hunting Black Ajah or dining with them? How long did any of you spend searching for the Dragon Reborn? Have any of you ever given your life for such a cause?” A pause, to let the question sink in. “Would you?”
Again, there was silence. “That needn’t be a rhetorical question if anyone wishes to answer.” Silence. “You question my loyalty, my commitment, my character, and yet I am the only woman here who has fulfilled my duty as Aes Sedai. A servant of all. Not a servant of the Tower, not of the Amrylin Seat, and not of my own selfishness, but of all. You slight me by implying that I am no longer held to my Oaths, and indeed, I will swear them again if that’s the proof you require, but does anyone here truly doubt that I am Aes Sedai?”
The silence was so jarring that Moiraine wondered if this was a dream too. She pinched herself under her lace cuff. She was flustered, her heart beat fast, and there was no doubt she would suffer for this stress later, but in this very moment, Moiraine hadn’t recalled feeling so exhilarated, so confident, in years. Even Cadsuane looked a trifle taken aback and Moiraine didn’t think it entirely an act.
She relished in the stunned silence a moment longer, and gathered herself once again, packing that anger and resentment up under control. Moiraine had taken her time to be free with her tongue, and now she needed to collect on her terms before anyone had either the confidence or the stupidity to challenge her. “If no one has anything more to add then shall we start with the apologies?”
It was a struggle for Nynaeve not to pace up and down the corridor as she waited outside the Hall, but she managed to stand still and hopefully wear an expression that didn’t reveal all the fear she was feeling. Without the bond, she might have been able to convince herself that things were all going according to Moiraine’s grand plan, that maybe this was perfectly normal for an interview, but Nynaeve could feel her panic. It subsided a few minutes ago, but it had been strong enough that Nynaeve wanted to curl up in a dark room and cry. She didn’t know how Moiraine kept herself standing. There were a few moments where Nynaeve was sure Moiraine was about to faint in front of the entire Hall. Now a burning anger replaced that fear but Nynaeve wasn’t convinced that was any better.
Nynaeve rubbed at her head. It was useless trying to figure things out through a bond. She would find out whatever the Hall decided in a few minutes time and it would look suspicious if she knew too much. Besides, there were things for her to focus on out here.
“So are you sick of marriage yet?” Maksim asked, tossing an apple up in the air and catching it as he had been doing for the better part of ten minutes now. The man was worse at standing still than she was.
“Sick of Alanna yet?” Nynaeve quipped back, maybe a bit too harshly but as much as Maksim usually helped her feel… normal, she didn’t much have the energy for him right now, and certainly not for the sort of gossip he usually wanted.
Maksim didn’t seem to notice, that was something at least. “Ah, but Alanna and I aren’t married.”
Nynaeve snorted. “Yes because being a Warder is so much less of a commitment.”
“Well I’m not tied down. Still a free man.” Maksim spun the apple over his head and caught it in his other hand.
“Still just the two of you?” Nynaeve forced herself to take on a gentler tone. It had been over three years since Ihvon died and as much as Maksim could talk about being free, she didn’t think that he so much as looked at another man since. Nynaeve was uncomfortably familiar with grief these days.
Maksim looked as his apple as if finally contemplating eating it before tossing it up again. “For now. Alanna’s been poking around, but I don’t fancy any of them so that’s that.”
“Is that important for you then? That you all…” Nynaeve cleared her throat instead of finishing the sentence. Maybe ‘love’ wasn’t exactly what they were looking for.
“Fuck?” Maksim finished for her. Nynaeve nodded weakly. Light knew how most of the world still thought Aes Sedai were celibate with half of the Greens having orgies every night. Maksim shrugged to himself. “Just seems easier if we’re all on the same page. I mean, imagine having a second Warder while you and Lan are off in the bedroom.”
Nynaeve blushed and cursed herself for it. She could imagine that only too well. She searched for a change of topic, but didn’t find one before the doors to the Hall creaked open and Moiraine strode out, head held high, looking the very picture of victory. She felt anything but.
She nodded to Nynaeve as she passed, “No need to thank me,” she said without stopping. Nynaeve breathed a sigh of relief. Light knew what went on in there but if Nynaeve wasn’t being dragged into the Hall for a trial and penance then things ended as well as they could have. It took effort not to follow her, but if Moiraine needed to be alone, Nynaeve would give her that space. She only hoped she wasn’t about to do something regrettable.
“She never changes, does she? Always in a rush somewhere,” Maksim remarked as Moiraine rounded the corner and Nynaeve didn’t have the heart to correct him.
The rest of the Sitters began to file out of the Hall and Nynaeve prepared herself for a lecture from any of them, or at least some snide comments about all her bloody failures, but none of them seemed to so much as look her way. Most gathered into clusters, whispering quietly as they walked off, and a few were grimacing as if they had come out of an uncomfortable meeting with the Mistress of Novices. Blood and bloody ashes, what did Moiraine say to them?!
The sole exception to the whispers and grimacing was Alanna who marched towards Maksim and Nynaeve in a huff. “Where did she go?”
“Left,” Maksim handed Alanna the apple and stood straight, clearly readying himself for business.
“Wait,” Nynaeve stopped them before they headed off in pursuit, “maybe you should give her some time alone.”
She tried to phrase the suggestion as a well meaning friend, not someone intimately aware of the tears Moiraine was holding in and the anger that still burned in her, but Alanna still gave her a strange look. She looked to Maksim and then relaxed, “You’re right,” Alanna said, not sounding pleased about it at all.
“Would have thought she had enough alone time already,” Maksim grumbled.
Nynaeve prickled at that but ignored him. She thought the same thing once, it wasn’t anyone’s fault for not seeing what Moiraine was trying so desperately to keep hidden.
Thankfully Alanna ignored him as well, but Nynaeve didn’t savor the intensity in her voice being turned on her. “Where has she been? I wrote to her months ago telling her to stay away from the Tower and she clearly didn’t know a thing about the Hall’s ambitions so—”
“Months ago? But…” Nynaeve frowned. That didn’t make sense at all. “What was all this? I thought the Hall wanted to question me. Moiraine only came for an appointment to nominate herself for—”
“Yes, well she did quite a bit more than that.”
“What do you mean?”
Alanna looked around, drawing Maksim to attention. “Let’s find somewhere more private.”
Moiraine found her way back to her quarters without stopping; people seemingly took one look at her and moved out of her way. She missed that in her time away, even if they were only hurrying because of her expression and not her name. She had to look angry. Because if that anger slipped off for one moment then the tears would start and she was not about to cry in front of the group of novices hurrying out of her way.
But when the door shut and locked behind her, Moiraine fell to the stone floor and let go, tears streaming down her face. Burn the Hall, the Tower, everyone! Should be free of this bloody place after everything and yet here she was! Called on to be humiliated by the Hall and the Amrylin Seat wrapping her into schemes she didn’t want any part of. Maybe she escaped today, for awhile until the Hall or Cadsuane decided she was disposable after all, but it was the point of the matter! She just wanted… Light, Moiraine didn’t even know anymore.
She wiped the tears from her face, and was struck with another horror of the day. She always kept her quarters sparse, but now her rooms were empty; nothing but stone walls and… Moiraine looked up against the wall she was leaning on. It was plain, marred by a black scorch mark. More dotted the other walls and floor.
It shouldn’t surprise her. She could about imagine Elaida coming down here in a fit of rage and burning all that she could see. Out of everything Elaida took from her, furniture and dresses meant little. Moiraine had few possessions that mattered to her and she took them all out of the Tower before her so-called exile. Well, all except…
Moiraine’s eyes couldn’t help darting to the far wall. She hadn’t seriously expected that ter’angreal to still be here. Even if it had been, it was unlikely the other half was intact and both were needed in proximity to enter the hidden room within, but still… it would have been nice to see it. Maybe it could have sparked a good memory or two with the way Moiraine’s mind had been jumping around today.
She pushed the memory of the doorway out of mind though Lan’s face was harder to get rid of. It was necessary, Moiraine told herself, all had worked out in the end. But she wasn’t such a fool to believe it was right.
She tried to focus on the room. She must have arrived here when first raised to the shawl, with Siuan in tow. She remembered complaining about the frills and lace Anaiya covered the room in as a ‘gift’ but Moiraine couldn’t picture any of it.
Moiraine pushed herself to stand and made herself walk along the empty walls. She knew that she hardly spent much time here at all during her hunt for Rand, but surely this was her primary residence for most of her life. Even empty, it should bring back some memories. She stood where her bed had been; she must have made love to Siuan right here but it might as well have been another life for all that she remembered of it.
By the time her hand brushed where that ter’angreal hung, she was crying again, but her sobs sounded, felt, as if they came from another woman. Again Moiraine felt less like a person and more a husk of death and grief that once cradled a full life.
She thought dimly about how easy it would be to toss herself off the Tower, how Nynaeve couldn’t do anything to stop her in time, how apt of a metaphor it seemed. But she only thought. Moiraine supposed that was progress.
A knock on the door shook her out of her thoughts and Moiraine wiped her tears on that Light-forsaken lace, ordering herself to stop crying. It worked after a fashion, her eyes ran dry, but she likely looked a woman who spent the past hour crying on an empty floor. No matter. Moiraine knew who was knocking; Nynaeve wasn’t near and that left only Alanna who would be brave enough to talk to her after that display in the Hall. Moiraine weighed her options. She’d have to talk to her sooner or later, she might as well get it over with now.
The already forced smile on Alanna’s face strained even more as she looked Moiraine up and down. Alanna was a friend, probably, and a skilled channeler and general in her own right, but she was never very gifted at Daes Dae’mar. Maybe that was why Moiraine became her friend in the first place. She really didn’t know and only hoped Alanna wouldn’t try poking those old scars of memory.
“I brought wine,” Alanna said, holding up the bottle.
Moiraine sighed with relief. That couldn’t mean she was that angry with her. She stepped aside to let Alanna in. “I’m afraid I’m all out of glasses at the moment.”
Alanna looked around the room, her gaze looked as hard as the stone she stared at. “I wish I could have had Elaida strung up and screaming myself.”
“If you ever find her—” in Seanchan, she almost said, but that wasn’t right. Why would she think that? Elaida was dead. Light, she was getting tired. “—in the next life,” she covered smoothly, “then be my guest.”
“I think I’ll leave her for you.” Alanna sat down on the floor and uncorked the wine. “I’m not going to ask how you are because I think I know.” Moiraine breathed a shaky laugh at that. Alanna didn’t know a bit of it. “But I have missed you.” She offered Moiraine the bottle as she sat next to her. Moiraine shook her head; she never used to drink much and as recent days have proven, picking up the habit now wouldn’t do her a lick of good. Accidentally attacking a girl in Tear was one thing, letting her clarity slip even a fraction in the Tower was far, far more dangerous.
Alanna looked disappointed at the refusal. Moiraine put on a sad smile. “I am sorry for keeping away. I just… I needed some time. And space.”
“Hardly the first time you’ve ran away without a word,” Alanna took a sip of the wine. “So long as there isn’t another Foretelling you’ve been keeping secret.”
Ah. That. Moiraine didn’t know how things ended with Alanna, if they ever talked about… everything. Evidently she didn’t blame Moiraine too badly; she was the only Sitter in the Hall not looking to humble her today, but if their positions were reversed, Moiraine didn’t think she would be quick to forgive a friend keeping so many secrets. “No. Fortunately not.” And she didn’t even have to lie about that.
But the silence between them dragged on. Moiraine knew it would continue until she made some form of apology. She took a shaky breath. “What I said in the Hall… It wasn’t directed at you.”
“You were right. And you were right to say it.” Alanna took another sip, well more of a swig, of the wine. “Of course you were a fool to say it, and to make those demands of yours, but… you deserved it.”
“It’ll come back to bite me, won’t it?”
“Certainly,” she patted Moiraine on the back and Moiraine forced herself not to flinch, “but enjoy the victory for now.”
“It doesn’t feel much like winning.”
They lapsed into silence, hardly unusual for the two of them. As much as Alanna liked to talk, Moiraine certainly didn’t, long before she had any secrets to hide. But this silence wasn’t companionable, it was stuffed full of ghosts, and Moiraine was terrified of saying the wrong thing. She wanted to offer her condolences for the death of Alanna’s Warder all those years ago; Moiraine was partly responsible for it after all, but she didn’t know if she had said the same words she prepared. Light, she couldn’t even remember his name.
“About you and Nynaeve…” Alanna said eventually. Moiraine figured this would be coming; she could feel Nynaeve’s anger and frustration at the news from across the Tower. Though of course Moiraine doesn’t know why she’s at all surprised. “She wasn’t very pleased.”
Moiraine sighed. “It’s for her own good. You well know the Hall was already going to keep hounding her, if not sticking her with another teacher. It’s easier to do it this way.”
“It’s… a bit extreme, for a friend.”
“Well she’s not a friend,” Moiraine huffed.
Alanna burst into laughter, suddenly brightening the dour and sparse room. “You never change, Moiraine. It took you over eight years to call me a friend and we were in novice whites together.” Moiraine tried on a smile but it didn’t quite fit. “And I think you only did because that innkeeper in Ebou Dar gave us one bed.”
Now she did laugh at that. The memory crept back into her mind, comforting, not oppressing like these hallucinations. It was the first time Alanna had travelled out of Tar Valon since gaining the shawl and Moiraine offered to go with her on some business for the Greens. In retrospect it had probably been a mistake to ever agree to go with Alanna to Ebou Dar. The woman had winked at every man on the street which started at least three duels over her and Moiraine was the one who had to clean it up. And then she had to sleep on the floor to boot. “Well that was because you never learned decorum. Or personal space.” She nudged Alanna in the ribs. And she thought Moiraine hadn’t noticed her sneaking closer. “I have missed you.”
“Oh well now I know you’ve been lonely.” Moiraine rolled her eyes but the sarcasm hit closer than it should have. Alanna inched even closer to her, close enough that panic started to rise in Moiraine’s throat. Her next question didn’t help. “Have you considered finding a new Warder?”
“I see that’s still your solution for everything,” Moiraine said carefully. The secrets never ended, did they? There was always something new to hide away. Maybe that was another thing she carried in her blood.
If Alanna noticed how carefully Moiraine stepped, she didn’t question her. “You’ve spent an hour crying on the floor of an empty room. I think you could use the company.”
The suggestion shouldn’t have surprised Moiraine; Alanna told her to find a Warder for years before Lan, but Moiraine still didn’t know why everyone was so sure sticking someone in her head all day for decades on end was going to solve any of her problems. Currently, it’s only been making things worse. “I still have Lan. Not in the same way, but we’ll be working together again, living together…” Again, Moiraine saw his face as she fell through the doorway. Live. Was it real? How could she look him in the eyes if it was? She blinked it away, it was useless to worry about something she could never know for certain. And then she saw Alanna’s smile. “What?”
“Still working things out there?”
Moiraine nodded. They hadn’t. Not in the slightest. And she wasn’t such a fool as to think this new agreement with Nynaeve would help in the slightest. Moiraine cleared her throat before she revealed anything she ought not to. “Speaking of which, I should probably be off soon. Back to work.” She stood and hoped if Alanna noticed her slight stumble, she would think it because of her shoes and narrow skirts.
Alanna didn’t look pleased. No doubt she was looking for some long soulful talk where Moiraine would pour out all her worries. She should have known her better than that. “Take care of yourself,” she said after a pause. “And Nynaeve. I know you still blame yourself for what happened the last time you took a student.”
“Rand was never quite a student. Probably for the best.”
Alanna’s frown deepened. “I meant about Varya… It could have happened to anyone.”
Moiraine tried not to let her confusion show. Surely another missing memory. Though the name… Varya? It did sound familiar, but—
Moiraine slammed the door to her quarters and wove a quick silencing ward before she lost her temper entirely. Then she slammed her fist into the wall. Fool! Again. Selfish! Something cracked but Moiraine didn’t pay it mind. Murderer! Blood smeared against the white stone.
She huffed. That was enough. Moiraine should set herself a true penance before she broke her hand. She more than deserved it, but it would interfere with her work and pain was too light of a penance for what she did.
Proper teaching was as sacred of a duty to Aes Sedai as the Three Oaths. The Tower was becoming more barren every year and each novice, especially a strong one of good character, was a treasure they couldn’t afford to lose. And Moiraine pushed her. She gave her extra lessons, special privileges, praise. She nominated her to go through the Arches after only two years. And for what? To beat some silly record?
Moiraine made her believe she was stronger than she was and Varya Farliz died as surely as if Moiraine stabbed her through the heart.
Varya would be the last. That would be the first part of her penance. In the morning, Moiraine would inform Merean that she wouldn’t be teaching any more novices because of her failure, nor even Accepted if she could help it. They would do better without her.
And Moiraine blinked. It was day time. Her quarters were empty. And Alanna was giving her an odd look. She shook off the memory. Light, she hoped that would stop happening soon. “I’ve moved on,” she said. Even if it was seemingly against her will. Still, a faceless girl danced on the edges of her memory somewhere together with Lan: a collection of her failures.
“Good.” Alanna didn’t look as if she believed a word of it, but stood up to offer her goodbyes. Moiraine braced for a hug that never came. Maybe Alanna finally learned that she didn’t like hugs. Maybe Alanna hadn’t forgiven her as much as she claimed to. “I might be tied up in the Hall for awhile, but how about I visit? In a few months.”
Moiraine nodded and tried to find words that weren’t lies. “Certainly.”
Alanna left, and again Moiraine was alone with her ghosts.
Nynaeve gathered up the decree in her hands, crumpling up the edge. Good bloody riddance with it, she thought, but she knew that the paper being ruined didn’t make the agreement she signed any less binding. Cadsuane had looked a little too happy as she read out the terms, read, mind, she didn’t write them, apparently Moiraine managed to do that all on her own.
Burn her! She had to know how infuriating this was! Well, of course she did, but Nynaeve hoped she knew why. It was one bloody thing for Cadsuane, the Hall, whoever, to puppet her around. That was expected. But according to Alanna, Moiraine managed to magic all of that away with a few strong words, and instead of letting things be as they were, she set her own arrangement!
Nynaeve ground her teeth outside the Travelling Grounds waiting for her, and again thought through her newly memorized orders, searching for any way to wriggle out. There wasn’t. Of course Moiraine thought them through with impeccable bloody care:
I, Queen el’Nynaeve ti al’Meara Mandragoran Aes Sedai, cede my authority in any matter pertaining to Aes Sedai affairs to the Lady Moiraine Damodred Aes Sedai. She shall speak on my behalf to the Hall of Servants and the Amrylin Seat. She shall set my orders and dictate my actions in any affair that doesn’t interfere in Malkieri sovereignty. When in her company, I shall defer to her. When not in her company, I shall act as she instructs. She shall take control of my education and my discipline. Any penance she sets shall be carried out with the authority of the Hall of Servants. This decree shall stand until the Lady Moiraine Damodred Aes Sedai judges me competent.
A plan she promised! A plan! Moiraine made it seem as if this were a ruse to throw off the Hall’s ambitions, to place herself in a more traditional advisory role. But no! She skipped straight over teacher and went right for mistress! Really the only thing worse would been if she had sworn the agreement on the Oath Rod. But even so, speaking out the lines while she was bound to tell the truth meant her intention had to be to follow the flaming rules.
Though it didn’t mean Nynaeve had to do so enthusiastically.
The bond announced Moiraine’s presence before Nynaeve could hear the click of her shoes or see the swish of blue rounding the corner. She felt remarkably calm for a woman who spent the better part of an hour crying — and that wasn’t easy to feel either with Cadsuane’s gaze on her. Moiraine should be lucky Nynaeve didn’t let anything slip.
“What’s this?” Nynaeve hissed after a quick look to ensure no one was following behind.
“You signed it, didn’t you?” Nynaeve thought her jaw might have crushed rocks as tightly as she was gritting her teeth. “Then I think you should be speaking to me with more respect, don’t you?”
Nynaeve took a very, very slow breath. “You really mean to follow this? In private?”
“If I wasn’t intending on following that agreement then I wouldn’t have written it. It’s called consistency. You should consider trying it.” A pair of Aes Sedai walked out of the sealed doors to the Travelling Grounds, and Moiraine carefully watched them pass. She lowered her voice. “I thought it seemed an appropriate penance for what you did. If you are intending on making amends.”
Nynaeve’s anger dimmed slightly, though only slightly. “I thought we were working that out.”
“We will.” Moiraine smiled. “But I don’t forgive easily.”
Nynaeve supposed it made some twisted sense; a balancing of their relationship in a way. Or revenge. “You know Lan’s not going to like this.”
“No, he probably won’t. Fortunately this is a matter for Aes Sedai, not for the king of Malkier nor your Warder. He can reject my appointment as advisor if he wishes, but it would be foolish. I’m still attached to you.” In two ways it seemed. Though Nynaeve couldn’t quite work out why. Moiraine avoided her like she was a specter of death for two and a half months and now suddenly she was appointing herself to be Nynaeve’s shadow? It didn’t make sense. Calm as she might feel right now, Nynaeve wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a choice born out of madness.
“And you know that everyone thinks you’re doing this out of jealousy. Even Alanna—”
“I’ll allow you to correct the record about my motives if you wish to,” Moiraine said casually, already seeming rather at ease with allowances and orders, and she knew well that Nynaeve wouldn’t. Moiraine was right that this was a lighter sentence than she deserved. “I thought not.” Again, that infuriating smile. To think that days ago, Nynaeve would have done anything to see Moiraine smile, to feel her satisfied, if not happy, and now… Well, apparently she had done anything after all.
But there was one matter that Nynaeve couldn’t accept in all of this. “I have a—” she swallowed. “May I make a provision in this… agreement. Privately.”
“What provision?”
Again Nynaeve looked around to ensure there was no one to overhear. “You’re ill. And I’m not going to let you refuse care because of some bloody words you’ve spun up.” Moiraine wasn’t pleased at the comment. Did she seriously think Nynaeve wouldn’t think of her illness? As if she didn’t heal her self-inflicted wounds only a few hours ago. “I won’t do anything that’s not necessary, I swear, but if I say you need Healing, or herbs, or rest, then you take it. No argument.”
Moiraine narrowed her eyes. Nynaeve knew she was already bending this agreement, but it was for Moiraine’s own good. Otherwise she might be dead in a month and then how was Nynaeve meant to explain that? “Yes, fine. Only when it’s needed,” she said tightly.
Nynaeve sighed. “Thank you.” Light, at least she was finally reasonable about something.
“Time to go, I think. And no more arguments from you today.” Moiraine pushed passed the doors and left Nynaeve to follow behind. “You may draw up the Gateway.”
Nynaeve would be lucky if she didn’t crack a tooth by the time Moiraine thought her ‘competent’.