5

Late that night, Cor Dazar sat with Sorhan in the Gaidin's quarters and poured a small amount of oosquai from his leather canteen into a glass. The two were about to take a goodbye toast when the door opened without warning, and Iliana walked in as if the room were her own. One nod and a meaningful flicker of her eyes sent Sorhan trotting out, setting down the glass with its untouched inch of oosquai and making excuses about coming back later.

"I have been looking into the Tower Library annals," she said peremptorily, crossing her arms and standing above him as he sat on the floor in the Aiel way, "and it seems to be well documented that you enjoy going off on vacations to the Blight. It seems I have bonded either a suicidal maniac, or a man with the sense of a Kandori crescent nut." Here she looked rather pleased with herself, much to Cor's bemusement.

Then she walked right up and glared straight down at him, and told him firmly, "There is to be no more of that." Cor opened his mouth to protest, but she talked right over him. "It took every ounce of saidar a sa'angreal could draw to save you. I don't know what possessed you to Travel right to the doorstep of Shayol Ghul. Nor what possessed me to follow you there! But if you do it again, you can be sure I won't bother next time! Do you understand me clearly?"

"You make perfect sense, Iliana," Cor assured her blandly.

"Good." Iliana looked suspicious for a moment, but finally acknowledged, with some reluctance, "Perhaps you're not quite as bad as a crescent nut, after all." An expression of smug self-satisfaction crossed her face. Then she seemed to recall herself. "What did I mean to say? Oh yes." Muttering about water, she picked up the glass Sorhan had left on the floor.

Cor's eyes widened. "Iliana, that's not--"

A finger poked Cor hard in the chest. "Don't argue with me!" Cor clamped his mouth shut and winced as Iliana tossed the inch of liquid down her throat. Dropping to her knees beside him, she put the empty glass down and looked seriously into his face. "Cor," she said quietly. "The Lord of the Grave breeds Myrddraal by the thousands. What does it mean to destroy one Fade, or ten, or even a hundred? We must choose our battles."

"I understand, Aes Sedai."

"Good," she said, nodding in satisfaction.

Cautiously, Cor peered at her from the corner of his eye.

"It seems a trifle warm. Do you have any more water?" she asked.

"Ah, no, Aes Sedai," Cor said hastily. "That was the last bit."

"Well then. Perhaps I shall take a walk in the Grove." Rising to her feet, Iliana went on her way, closing the door to Cor's quarters behind her.

Humming to herself, Iliana stepped out of Cor Dazar's quarters and began to walk down the hall. For some reason she felt rather warm and light-headed, and found herself remembering late tavern nights in the Rahad.

She was halfway down the hall of the Gaidin's quarters when the door opened again. "Are you all right, Iliana?" She turned around to find Cor looking at her in anxious concern.

Iliana blinked. "Of course."

"You are certain?" If anything, Cor looked even more worried.

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Oh! No reason," Cor replied quickly. "No reason at all. If anything needs to be carried aboard the ship--"

"I will let you know," Iliana finished, with a smile.

"Yes," said Cor, nodding vigorously and going back in.

Iliana continued out of the Gaidin's quarters and toward her own chambers. Such a nice Gaidin, so thoughtful and considerate of his Aes Sedai! She would remember to thank Jascha in the morning for being so generous as to let her keep his bond. She shook her head. For some reason, she felt as if she had consumed an entire pitcher of wine. Perhaps she was coming down with something. She made a note to ask Jascha about that, too.

Many hours into the night, when it was perhaps closer to sunrise than to sunset, Dawnrider walked the empty streets of Tar Valon to the Tower. Hushed in a silence that made men feel small, the avenues rose and hovered over him. The three-quarters moon appeared sharply white in the sky and cast shimmering streaks of illumination over the city. The only other light visible was in the windows of the Tower. Tonight even more remained lit than usual.

His eyes falling upon the lone building that rose high above Tar Valon, Dawnrider smiled slightly, a touch of irony twisting his lips. Upon the shoulders of the White Tower rested the weight of the world. What right had Aes Sedai to sleep? In the Tower, they were rushing around shouting orders, detailing plans and making visits. Dawnrider turned aside before he reached the gates. He had never been one for prolonged farewells.

Entering the Ogier Grove, he breathed the cool air and drew close the dark hooded cloak he had worn into the city. Looming high over the brush, the Great Trees of the Ogier shut out all but a few stray patches of moonlight. Nevertheless, the Waygate rose before Dawnrider with a strangely silver glow that seemed to emanate from its own intricately carved face. Stopping directly in front of it, he raised his arm and looked in wonder at the pallid light that seemed to reflect on his sleeve. A stirring in the leaves made the pale sheen waver.

He wheeled round and drew his sword, raising it in an instant.

Very carefully, Iliana moved a slender sword up to give two light taps to Dawnrider's. He raised an eyebrow. "So quick to point without looking," she said in amusement.

Dawnrider smiled and sheathed his sword. "It seems a late night for you."

"Your name belies you, Dawn." Iliana looked at him with a straight face. "With the hours you keep, more often than not you miss the sunrise." She glanced back toward the Tower. "I thought to get away from the well-wishers," she explained, making a wry face. "A walk outside the Tower can be quite pleasant."

"With that?" Dawnrider raised an eyebrow again at the sword.

"It is different for me," Dawnrider answered dryly. "I assure you, Iliana Aes Sedai, I would not make so grave an error as to deprive you of your head." He fell into step beside her walking aimlessly among the Trees, his eyes flickering between the brush-entangled ground and the Waygate with its ancient, strangely beautiful designs. "Not by accident, at least," he added, with a deliberately benign expression.

"Your skill exceeds mine by far," Iliana replied primly. "If you were to try, it is likely I would accidentally deprive you of yours."

A vague detachment touched the end of her jest, allowing its sharpness to slip away. Standing in a spattering of moonlight, Iliana turned the slender weapon over and ran two fingers down the flat of the blade. "Where I am going, I have little need of this." Suddenly she aimed the handle away from her body and tossed it. Dawnrider's hand came up and caught the sword by its grip. "Keep it. It belongs in Tar Valon, and I think it might serve you well."

It was lighter than he expected. Rotating it, he grinned as he recognized the blade that had hung behind Iliana's desk outside the Amyrlin's study. She had tried to run him through with it, after he had made an especially choice innuendo. The incident had cost him a moderate amount of blood and a great deal of persuasion to convince Jaimyn he had slipped while sharpening Meriam's axe.

"It makes an excellent tongue clamp for unruly novices. I've even poked it at a few Sitters," she added, with a half-jesting smile.

Dawnrider laughed. "Sitters and a few others, it seems. Thank you." He paused, and then spoke again. "I remember you saying that only fools leave the Tower in order to change it."

Iliana smiled. "It is not the Tower that needs change, Dawn," she said seriously. "The people want treaties signed, ballots cast, declarations made. They want the Amyrlin to veto this and that. It is the only language they know, Dawn. You and I, perhaps a few of the others, we are the bridge between the vote and the task. We raise and lower tariffs, survey funds, allocate budgets. We speak another tongue. And if we raise the levy on tea and lower the levy on kaf by the same amount, there will be those who cannot comprehend the difference."

"One might say," Dawnrider replied blithely, "that there is no difference."

Iliana crossed her arms and looked at him levelly. "Just accept it."

Dawnrider raised an eyebrow. "That is quite a technique for winning arguments."

"Not getting bogged down in trivial details is, yes," Iliana replied crisply, trying valiantly but not succeeding in hiding a smile.

Resuming a strolling pace, she walked ahead of Dawnrider to the edge of the Grove and stared up at the Tower with its windows lit like red stars. "Tar Valon forgets this," she said conversationally. "I told all my staff, Dawn. Kyira probably remembers. The Tower is here because it serves Aes Sedai. Not because Aes Sedai serve the Tower, though even the Hall may not believe it. If there ever comes a day when the Tower no longer serves you…" She looked intently into Dawnrider's face. "That is the day you must give it up, and board a ship and leave. Promise me. What I have just given you… pass it to another or destroy it, but do not carry it with you."

Inclining his head in a half-nod of promise, Dawnrider glanced eastward. The edge of the night sky was beginning to lighten. The sun would rise in an hour. "You won't stop by from time to time, then?" he asked. "To see how things are going?"

"Write to Renaiya Dorhan in Ebou Dar. She will pass your letters to me." Turning away, she went up the paths to the Tower, drawing her hood as she walked.

Mingar, warm from a good draught of oosquai, was efficiently winning a bet against Rillian, Madic, Grond, and Kalin when he heard the voice in his head. Thankful it was only Qirien, speaking through the double bond, he sighed. He had been expecting the summons all day, so it was with only mild regret that he lay the bow upon the ground and aligned his arrows neatly beside it.

"Finish the game," he said gruffly to his brethren standing quietly around the painted wooden target. "Whichever of you wins, take the prize."

"Is it time, then?" Without waiting for an answer, they stood up and warmly grasped hands with him and Rillian.

Rillian gathered his scimitar and harp from their positions against a tree. Mingar spun around slowly, taking in the dusty training ground, the squat wooden barn built by Siswai penalty labor that served as a barracks, the Tower he had thought so graceful when he had first seen it, the ever uncompromising Shining Walls beyond. Gazing through the dust, he swallowed a lump in his throat, but somehow his eyes got wet.

Opening his canteen of oosquai, Mingar poured one more swig for each of them. "May you always find water and shade, brothers," he said formally. "Till shade is gone," he intoned, raising his leather container and meeting with Kalin's glass, Madic and Rillian's tin cups and Grond's chipped mug. "Till water is gone. Into the Shadow with teeth bared." They brought the innocuously bland-tasting liquid to their lips and drank deeply.

Mingar grinned suddenly as he finished. "To spit in Sightblinder's eye on the last day!" Swallowing his oosquai, he spat demonstratively, and with a fierce warrior's halloo he hurled his three spears high into the air, so that their tips caught the sun's gleam, and catching them deftly he gave one of those leaping kicks that no wetlander could ever learn.

With that, he and Rillian shouted exuberant goodbyes to the training ground and broke into a run, and their brethren raised their swords and called, "We'll be there with you!" as they dashed off to the harbor.

Davian sat in his chair restlessly, nervously sipping his glass of water.

"They will be leaving soon," he thought to himself. Taking a look up at the sun to judge the time, he sighed. "High noon. The end is near."

He reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of parchment, quill, and ink. Wetting the quill with the dark ink, he began writing furiously.

Finishing the letter, he folded it twice, and gently laid it in a pocket in his dark cape. Gathering some things in a bag, he flung it over his shoulder and began rushing to the door, but stopped suddenly in the middle of the floor. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he thought to himself.

Anger welling up, he released it suddenly, picking up his Master of Arms desk with an Air weave and throwing it into the wall. It crashed loudly, spilling wood chips and papers all over. Soon enough the whole room was trashed. He knocked the door open with a swift kick and stormed out of the room.

Two guards came running down the halls to see what the noise was, but as soon as they opened their mouths to talk to him, he summoned another air weave and bashed their heads into the walls.

Reaching the Halls of the Gray Ajah (which seemed oddly empty now with Jarin's departure, and rumor had it Alethahea was leaving as well) he reached Jaimyn's door and paused to think. He cursed himself for not having the guts to go in and tell her himself.

Sliding the note under her door gently, he rose to face the great wooden door again. Admiring the golden plate on the door, he read it to himself. "Jaimyn Porall Sedai , Sitter for the Gray Ajah." Rubbing over it with his fingers, he sighed to himself. He'd miss her dearly.

Turning away suddenly he wove the weaves for a gateway and opened one right in front of himself. A port lay beyond one in the city of Tar Valon ... and where he would board a ship and never return to the White Tower.

Admiring for the last time the place he had called home for so many years, he stepped through the gateway and watched the Halls of the Gray Ajah disappear just as he heard Jaimyn's door opening.

Reaching the ship he would be sailing on, he took a momen to absorb all the activity around him. Sailors tied ropes and loaded the ship, and people flew past him shouting commands and carrying loads.

Reaching down to feel for his coin purse, he discovered it still there to his relief. It was fairly easy to get ripped off in large crowds … one could never be too cautious.

He didn't take much with him from the White Tower, just some necessities. His longswords were strapped to his back in an "X" fashion, his angreal was in his pocket (he managed to sneak it by the Violets), and the small sack he carried over his shoulder contained some clothes and some rations.

Hearing a sudden whistle, he turned in its direction and saw a person wearing a wide straw hat and yellowish robes approaching him. It was Iliana Sh'mur, former Keeper of the Chronicles.

Politely bowing to her, she stopped him halfway. "No need Avi, I hardly carry any past authority I once had," she said with a grin.

"You're still MY Keeper of the Chronicles, Iliana," he replied.

Smiling to him, she turned around and motioned him to follow her.

She led him up onto the ship, and onto its busy deck. There he saw the other members of the White Tower who were travelling as well. Rillian, Shaft, Selante, Cor Dazar, and the former Amyrlin herself, Qirien. He was sure there were more as well, but he did not see them.

Interrupted from his thoughts by Iliana talking, he focused back on her.

"Where will you go Avi? Anyplace in particular?" she said while adjusting her hat, which almost blew off countless times in the wind.

Taking a moment to ponder the question, he finally answered. "Tear," he said. "More than likely Tear. Some family is there, and who knows, perhaps with some of my political background I could even become a High Lord!"

Sharing a laugh, they walked over to where they others were standing and began conversing with them.

Written by Davian, Iliana

Characters Cor Dazar, Davian, Dawnrider, Grond, Iliana, Kalin, Madic, Mingar, Rillian, Sorhan