It Begins

What was there to say?

In her youth, as her band trekked through the forested depths of the Braem Wood, Cardiff once came across a small object lodged in a swell of mud. As any small child might, she yanked the object from the mud with a satisfying squelch and, with quiet wonder, examined it. It was a spoon unlike any she’d ever seen, crafted from soft, pale wood with an obviously skilled hand. The handle was ornate and woven, spindly and delicate, and Cardiff was immediately taken by its beauty.

“Cairhienin merchants pass through these woods to peddle their wares in Tear,” her father explained when Cardiff showed him the object. In the shady recesses of a knot of trees, she held the spoon up so the fragments of light streaming through the foliage speckled it with shadow and luster. “They exchange these goods with wealthy individuals for gold, Cardiff. It must have fallen off a merchant’s wagon.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she whispered, wiping the layer of pasty loam off the spoon with great care. “It’s the most beautiful spoon in the world, Father! Why don’t our spoons look like this?”

Her father laughed in a deep baritone that evoked earth and sediment. “There’s a lesson in these things, Cardiff. This spoon is gorgeous to the eye, child, but dreadfully impractical. Ornamental spoons like these cannot be used for eating—not without damaging the spoon, anyway. It’s best not to fascinate oneself with objects like these. Keep it if you wish, but I’d suggest you leave it where it was found.”

Cardiff, however, had no interest in returning such a beautiful spoon to the filth and the muck. Instead, she vowed she would eat every breakfast for the rest of her life with the spoon and she would keep it on her always.

The next morning, no more than three spoonfuls into her porridge, the ornamental spoon snapped in half.

This memory bubbled up as she passed through Tar Valon. She wondered if the maker of that spoon had had a hand in designing the city, as every inch of it reminded her of that object. The city was a medley of grand archways, pointed towers and ostentatious walkways that stretched between what looked like small palaces but were really inns and shops and houses! As her party passed through the city, Cardiff was enamoured by the sights, her head flicking every which way if only to drink in the beauty of the architecture. She’d only once ever been in a city as Tinker generally steered clear of manmade settlements, but this was simply too much. Above the buildings and bridges she could see the tip of the White Tower scrape the cloud cover.

“Now if only I were as taken by the company,” she murmured, her gaze fleetingly passing over her traveling companions.

Sollany and Euma didn’t have much to say, but then again, the girls were a little short on personality, weren’t they? On their trek down from the Borderlands, they’d passed near an Ogier grove. Cardiff had wryly commented to the girls that the only thing more exciting than an Ogier grove was a clod of dirt, which prompted Euma to tilt her head and say, “I don’t get it. Clods of dirt aren’t very exciting at all.”

No, Sollany and Euma were definitely not Cardiff’s first choice in traveling companions, though she didn’t really have a say in it, did she? The Aes Sedai had simply informed the three of them that they had the potential to learn to touch the True Source and, well, that was that. Still, while Sollany and Euma were a bit on the boring side, at least they weren’t as frigid and the Aes Sedai. Light! Those women were as perky as a couple of Fades, weren’t they? They claimed to be of the Red Ajah, whatever that meant, and were rather dogged and defensive as they sort of half-explained their Ajah’s purpose. Still, for the most part, they were condescendingly quiet and serene and made Cardiff long to be back with Ogiers.

However, not Sollany nor Euma nor the two Aes Sedai could compare to the sixth member of their party. He was a tangled mess of brown hair that fell before his face and, Light, he smelled awful—like sweat and feces and something else she couldn’t quiet put her finger on. Had he never bathed?  He was shackled and followed the Aes Sedai as though bound by some invisible rope, with his eyes fixed so resolutely on the ground. Cardiff couldn’t understand how someone could pass through Tar Valon and not look at all the marvelous sights, though he seemed perfectly satisfied keeping his eyes on the cobbles.

Of course he is, she thought. He’s a False Dragon! A lunatic! He’s lost his acorns!

Barely a year older than Cardiff, and that’s all he was. She was equally reviled and saddened by the man. He would never know the Way. He was too far-gone to learn of it.

“Now,” the shorter of the Aes Sedai said, “we’ll soon be arriving at the Tower. We’ve sent word ahead of your arrival and there’ll be another sister there to induct you and guide you to your rooms. You remember what we told you about interacting with Aes Sedai, yes? You know how you will greet her?”

“Curtsy,” Sollany said.

“Speak only when spoken to,” Euma said.

“Strip naked and scramble to the floor and kiss her bunions and say that we’re not worthy,” Cardiff mumbled.

The Aes Sedai’s eyes widened like a flash of dark fire. “I beg your pardon, child?” With that, something invisible nipped Cardiff in the behind, something sharp and painful. She clasped her hands there and her heart began thundering in her chest. Had this woman just…? Oh, Light! She had! Sollany and Euma looked as though they’d just witnessed murder before fixing their gazes on the ground, much like the madman. The two Aes Sedai’s eyes moved in unison from the girls’ shocked expressions to Cardiff’s shaking hands and they smirked.

“You’ll find,” the other one said quietly, “that we do punishment a little differently than you Tinker folk do. We’re not afraid to be a tad more direct.”

Cardiff was wordless and her thoughts were gone from her fellow Tinkers, from the madman, from even the beauteous city. They’d… they’d used violence on her. Oh, Light, Light, Light. They had not said she was going to a place where acts of violence were part of the daily regimen! No, they’d conveniently omitted that little detail, hadn’t they? What was she getting herself into? What would become of her?

Before she could weigh this question in her head, the White Tower came into full view. In the wake of what had just happened, it looked suddenly cold and foreboding. Its colourless walls contrasted with her yellow shirt and violet britches and Cardiff suddenly wondered if this had all been some awful mistake.

It was too late to think on this, however. It had already begun.