Reconnaisance

Some things were just so self-evident that there was no sense lamenting them.  As her new partner in crime hemmed and hawed, Tahmelah could read his innocence on his face.  He had no 'diabolical plan.'  No matter.  She did.  Narrowing her eyes at the crowd, milling together like a herd of sheep on the plains, flocking around its dubious shepherdess, she lost a pleasant moment considering what she could rain down on them.  There was bound to be a latrine on this floor…and there was a balcony up above.  What better combination would she ever find for a way to express her hatred at this imprisonment?  Of course, the punishment would make her eyes pop, but she almost thought it would be worth it.  Although, she would settle for revenge on just one Aes Sedai…Shooting her companion a bright, wholesome grin that he would soon enough learn to equate with "run! for the Light's sake, run!" she saved his brain from overheating as he tried desperately to think of something to distract her with.

There were some questions to be probed there, that was for certain: important ones such as why her, and whether or not he had decided that she would be an intriguing victim of whatever madness he had.  Although she was engaged in a permanent vendetta against the Novice Rule Book, she did hold one rule sacred: the one that specifically warned against "inter-gender contact."  There was no way in Shayol Ghul she was going to spend her free moments lingering over the fence, staring at boys doing what she wanted to do herself, and the ones wearing white – or black – were so far removed from her idea of "masculine" as to be ungendered.  When you got right down to thinking about it, and Tahmelah tried not to, it would be safer to kiss a pit viper with a toothache.  There was just the declaration that saidin was cleansed, not the personal guarantee that every male channeler in the Westlands had personally been examined for creeping dementia.

But for some mad reason she couldn't begin to explain, the giant lummox, now welded to her arm by her own fingers, made her feel safe.  Perhaps it was his very slowness: he plodded along behind her obediently as she led him down the short corridor that led to the adjoining Hall of Petitioners.  It was still early in the event, and so no one had yet crept into the dimly lit hall for "a spot of privacy."  The fact that she might have been seen and considered the first to do so crossed her mind, but she tossed the idea and her hair alike.  Although he was a pretty specimen, he could channel – no woman would ever want to kiss him.  He should be dead, although he seemed rather a nice man now.  Later, of course, when this entire experiment went belly-up, as Tahmelah expected it to, he likely would die. 

Perhaps that was why she took a little pity on him.

Leading the way as she twisted aside priceless tapestries and peered behind precious porcelain, she took the closest ramp to the next level, and began her search again.  In the end, her door wasn't even hidden, not properly: staring at it as though it led to certain doom, she reached out.  The doorlatch didn't turn: of course, if it were easy enough to enter the little balcony, half the Novices would be up here snogging their trainee counterparts into a state of uncertain bliss.  Snorting at how stupid that would be, Tahmelah plucked a pin from her hair and twisted it into the lock.  Being an innkeeper's daughter had its little rewards.  Pulling him into the dark vestibule beyond and down the narrow flight of steps, they reemerged into the party.

From above, it looked almost inviting.  Wishing that she had thought to bring food up here to her lookout, as the scents rose on the air, making her stomach growl angrily, Tahmelah glanced down.  Aware that she was visible from below, as was he – their white clothing might blend in, but her hair always gave her away – she gestured him down, and they knelt on the marble floor, staring through the stone balustrade.  Although the reprieve from the party was welcome, she had no desire to lose face at all: she'd have to manufacture a reason why her balcony was so "perfect."  Frowning back over the top of the wide stone sill, she cast her glance along the long tables situated below them.  As unkind fate would have it, they were situated only over the drinks. 

Well, people drink all the time to forget things that happened to them, she reasoned.  Why not us?  Or, more particularly, why not herself?  Elbowing the boy beside her in the ribs, noting as she did that he was skinnier than he looked in his bulky Novice whites, she whispered, "It's probably better if you channel it up here."  Every Aes Sedai or Accepted in attendance could see saidar, but saidin was invisible.  Musing that she'd rather hurl a series of fireballs into the hateful faces in attendance, she whispered, "So are you doing it?  In or out?"

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Apologies for suckage.  I left it half done, went to take a shower, and Adia discovered that clicking twice in the box makes it all disappear…so I reconstructed so I could go to Costco.  I might fix it later.  For now though, I think they ought to get drunk.  They're good at that.