A New Novice in the Ranks
Candance Sedai, Mistress of Novices, Written by Jeremy
Posted on Tue, May 18, 2010 09:20 am
It had taken her awhile, but Candance finally felt like everything was right in her new office. It was a given, of course, that with the way she had taken her position that she would have to make the office her own whilst tidying out any remains of her predecessor – Zaria had almost been forcibly removed from the White Tower, and she was said to be on the verge of hysterics – but she had not expected it to take her nearly as long as this. Granted, she was overly particular about the way she liked her things and adding her own touch to the room, given that she would probably be spending a lot of time in here in the years to come, but still, the state of disorder that Candance had discovered said something for Zaria.
The novice book itself was a prime example, with personal notes such as ‘overly weak – a tendency for the tears, must be beaten out!’ written in its margins, which Candance had decided to ignore, instead of carefully rub out of the ancient tome. There were many interesting things written in the book that she remembered herself being entered into by the various Mistress of Novices in the White Tower’s history, but none as personal and petty as those that Zaria had written down. Despite herself, Candance had let her curiosity lead her astray and had turned the heavy pages to the year in which she had been enrolled in the novice whites, amused to find the comments written about her by Madina Sedai, the then Mistress of Novices.
“Candance Melhir seemed to resent the White Tower dragging her away from her parents, and seemed to be rebelling against the discipline we provide her. But her new and recent dedication is impressive, she is striving for the banded hem and has bowed to the will of the Wheel.”
Oh Light, how she had changed from the young girl she had first been when she’d first entered the White Tower, trying to exert her independence from the Aes Sedai who had been so quick to jump into her life and interfere. It brought back a memory of the first night she had heard the voice of Melina Damir whispering words of comfort to her through the walls of the novice quarters. If it weren’t for her – Light, now the Amyrlin Seat! – her life certainly wouldn’t be where it was today. Possibly she wouldn’t be Aes Sedai, and she certainly wouldn’t be Mistress of Novices!
The conversation she had had in the study of the Amyrlin Seat still seemed surreal, despite being over three days ago. Light, it had come to a surprise to her, but she felt that the position he had been given would be one that she would fill quite well. Ever since her arches, her loyalty to the White Tower had been put before anything else, and now she felt that she truly was in a position where she could make a difference to the establishment that she had dedicated her life to. She firmly held the belief that those that donned the white were the backbone of the White Tower and that their initiation and further training and education determined the quality of Aes Sedai that the White Tower would produce, and it must produce the finest quality possible.
It was an interesting time to be the Mistress of Novices, as males were beginning to be enrolled in the novice book, but Candance felt that she was up to the challenge and the controversy. When the Hall had first announced it decision to allow male channellers to enroll themselves in the novice white, Candance had decided that she needed to carefully consider her own position on the new policy before being able to confer with others about it, so she had locked herself in her room for several hours, carefully following her train of thoughts regarding male channellers. It had taken her a long time, and several cups of tea, to determine that she thought that male channellers in the White Tower were the best way to proceed with the changes that the Dragon Reborn was forcing on the world.
Above all, she respected and upheld the dignity and image of the White Tower above all else, and wanted to project a strong image of the Aes Sedai throughout all the nations. The White Tower must be the image of strength that it had been throughout history, and the Black Tower threatened the image that it had carefully established for itself. Now that saidin was cleansed and male channellers were no longer a concern, the only logical choice was to include males within the ranks of the White Tower, and use them to boost the Aes Sedai ranks. The only other option was that they boosted the ranks of the Black Tower, and helped the abomination to grow and prosper, set apart from the White Tower. Yes, it was much better that the males came to the White Tower to learn, instead of the Black equivalent.
Which is what brought her to one of her first charges; Jasire had sent word ahead of the pending arrival of a new male with the potential to channel, who would make one of their newest male numbers. He would not be the first, but he was certainly going to be one who stood out in the hallways as he wore the white breeches and shirt that had hastily been designed as soon as the males had come a-knocking at the doors of Tar Valon. And he would, from her accounts, be a somewhat difficult initiate to introduce to Tower life and the idea of seizing saidin.
A knock at her door found her finishing the arranging of her books so that they were found in a logical order – alphabetical by author – after which she took a seat in the comfortable yet firm armchair she had brought down from her own quarters. Arranging her skirts quickly, she called out for the knocker to come in.
It was a young man, who shuffled awkwardly into the room, one of his legs dragging behind the other in an obvious display of stiffness and discomfort. His Cairhien roots were obvious in his small stature, and darkish brown hair that was tied behind his face, although his eyes that sought out Candance were a green bordering on a blue. Her new novice, maybe?
“Jasire Sedai sent me, Aes Sedai.”
“You will be Theon, then. It is custom, child, to bow before an Aes Sedai, and not speak unless spoken to. I understand the position that you have come into is quite a difficult one and different to what you are used to, but the best way to learn is by throwing you atop the razor at full gallop, so I expect you to keep up with me. You will bow to every Accepted and Aes Sedai you encounter, and follow their word like law. As a Novice you know nothing, and will follow the guidance and tutelage offered to you, willingly and thankfully. Now tell me, before we get you enrolled in the novice book, Jasire talks of a block, or a bar as you might know it – what is it?”
OOC: So I figured that his limp would be more pronounced because he’s stressed. Certainly in my experience with my limp it’s more obvious when i’m stressed, tired or angry. Yaaaay, roleplay =)
In reply to City of the Shining Walls[show]/[hide]
As a child, Theon had witnessed the port of Tear rise up against a distant shoreline while plying the southern coast on his father’s cog. The imagery was so powerful that it prompted an intense exhilaration every time he boarded the vessel, all the way until he was tossed overboard. After the shark attack—and the subsequent amputation of his leg—much of that exhilaration was replaced by loathing and dread, but the memory of the image never changed.
It began with Haddon Mirk, bedecked with bare branched trees and masked in rolling fog that leaked beneath the wattle and daub huts and clog-wearing commoners of the Maule. Beyond them the walls of the inner city, constructed from rustic stone and wrought iron, defended by the conical helmed soldiers of the Tairen guard. Next the tall granaries, modest warehouses and mild stone structures of the Chalm, where merchants and hawkers clamored about in the hopes that wealthier men would spot their wares. The marble palaces and steepled manor houses stood on the highest ground, but above them all was the stone: impregnable, unyielding and some said, eternal.
It was a hovel beside Tar Valon.
The city that made the topless towers of Cairhien mute and tidily boring. Whose colors were so flagrant that they shamed Ebou Dar itself. The city where a striking sculpture and reputable enterprise were often one and the same. All around him, bridges made of marble and redstone spilled across parapets and riverside rooftops like strings of delicate lace. Birds angled around wind-sculpted bluffs or lofty spires that stood only a few spans beneath billowing clouds. The White Tower, so deceptively tall that Theon could not say whether it was vaulted or flat, dominated the skyline like an ivory flute against the stark profile of Dragonmount.
He found himself constantly craning to look upward, his eyes thirsty for more of the flawless beauty that the city bequeathed upon all who beheld it. For once, he was oblivious to the way his stump had begun to grind and jostle against his wooden leg, rendered speechless by his own sense of wonder.
“Well, child?” Asked the Aes Sedai. “What do you think?”
“How do you ever grow weary of such a sight?” He breathed.
“You do not.” She answered. “It takes the breath away on the fiftieth sight as easy as the first. Look upon a thousand times, however you please. You will find no equal in all the world.”
He had to anchor himself in the present just to draw his neck toward the Cairhien road, but he couldn’t precisely say he was bashful for it. The small fleet of ships surrounding the island filled him with a variety of mixed emotions, most of which he suppressed before the Aes Sedai. He did not believe she could read minds–at least, not all the time–but he had little doubt that her eye for even the barest hint of sentimentality was sharper than any other. He still had not puzzled out how she knew about his missing leg, and he had no intention of offering up anymore of his secrets.
I’ve lost my objectivity, he thought sourly. She keeps poking at my emotions, tripping up my sense of balance so that I am always off-guard. I need to be clear-headed.
The Aes Sedai continued to drone on, a low buzz over the marvel that stood before him.
“Are you listening, child?” She asked.
His mind was sharper than most, his memory more lucid and powerful than any person he'd ever met. His sense of direction and mind for calculation were equally absolute. And his ability to multi-task was quite nearly unparalleled. Of course he'd heard her! The witches words shifted into focus like a city on the other end of a spyglass; he examined them, assessed them, and dismissed them in equal portions.
“My apologies, Aes Sedai.” He said calmly, lying through his teeth. “I was distracted.”
“An understatement.” She decided. “I am aware of the beauty of Tar Valon, but you cannot afford to dismiss my words so easily. Now, once the matter of your initiation has been settled, you will be granted a living quarters all your own, a stark place . . .”
He pretended to listen carefully and nodded at all of the appropriate pauses, but he suspected that she would be able to tell he wasn't devoting the whole of his attention to her words. He rarely devoted the whole of his attention to anything. He'd never been in a position where he had to, before saidin.
How many times has she delivered this speech, I wonder?
"Which of the bridges are we approaching, child?" She snapped.
"The Alindaer." He said calmly.
"And how many bridges are there?" She pressed.
Six, he thought. But you didn't say that the second time.
"Three?" Asked Theon, recanting only what could see with his naked eye.
"Are your certain?" She asked. "Tristan told me about your 'golden mind', child. I must say, I'm rather disappointed."
"You didn't say how many bridges there were when you repeated yourself, Jasire Sedai."
"Oh?" She asked. "And what about the first time?"
"It is as I told you, Aes Sedai." He said politely. "I must have been distracted."
"I see." She said dryly.
You'll get no more from me, witch. I am not a specimen, to be studied . . .
One of the first things she'd mentioned was that his room would have no windows. The second was that novices were not granted the privilege of departing the Tower grounds. That meant that this memory was all the more important; he would need to draw upon it, both for strength and peace of mind in the years to come. The mind was a tricky creature, and the art of remembering things hardly an exact science. Images were trickier than sounds, sounds were trickier than sensations, those were trickier than words, which in turn were trickier than songs, and so on and so forth.
His attentions, divided as they were, found interruption as they reached the foot of the redstone bridge, where a chiseled man in brightly burnished chain mail bowed low as they came upon him. In spite of the cool spring breeze, the man looked vexed. A few beads of sweat trickled from his brow, and his breath was slightly labored.
“Jasire Sedai!” He proclaimed. “Light, but you’re a sight for sore eyes. Is he another one of, erm. Well, what I meant to say was whether or not this fine lad is . . . "
Whether or not I'm a madman? Go on. Ask.
“How is the city faring, Officer Caron?" Jasire interrupted him, perhaps mercifully.
“It's a mess, I fear." He said. “One of those fool Whitecloaks was escorted into the city proper, and I can't even begin my paperwork until I get proper relief.”
“I’ll see about sending for someone.” She said, affecting a smile.
“Where are my manners!” The guardsman said, quite startled. “I’m as grouchy as a bear with a sore tooth is all. So, shall I escort this fine young man into the hall?”
The goosebumps came back, but Theon kept his calm.
He furrowed his eyebrows as the guardsman began to nod in comprehension, but it was not until the fellow's lips began moving soundlessly that he realized what had happened. When he turned to regard the Aes Sedai, he saw that she was gesticulating with her hands, explaining the situation perhaps, or else making smalltalk. A quick glance between the witch and the guard showed that the man in the brightly burnished armor was becoming rapidly more apprehensive of Theon, but little more. When he stopped speaking, Theon looked back to the witch and tried to read her lips.
She was probably asking for an update regarding the Whitecloak, and possibly for scouting reports as well. At least, that's what his best guess told him. She made no facial expressions, and her lips were nearly impossible to read. Many of her gestures could have been made specifically to throw him off. He tried to shift his attention subtly to the Officer in hopes that he would have better luck. This Caron fellow should be a bit easier to read.
Something clouted his ear. Hard. With a wince and a hiss, he scrunched up and reached for the side of his head. A wasp would have been less painful, but apart from being frightened and grumpy, he was in tact. The gelding huffed as if in aggravation, craning it's neck to examine its mistress as Theon had.
"Child, if you do not relax your legs, I will allow that gelding take you across this bridge at a full gallop, and the city will have your hide for foolishness."
Flushing, he realized that the horse was fixed in place with the One Power, and his shoulders slumped. The guardsman gave Theon an angry glare as he hitched a lead rope around the horses bridle, scratching the gelding behind the ears as he did.
“How much did you make out?” Asked Jasire.
“Hardly anything, Aes Sedai.” Said Theon.
"Eavesdropping." Growled Officer Caron, leading Theon's horse toward the redstone path. "Hardly a polite thing to do in any situation, if you ask me. And only a downright fool would eavesdrop on an Aes Sedai."
"Most unwise." Jasire agreed nonchalantly. “Had you actually been in novice whites, I would see you turned over my knee for that kind of insolence."
The words stirred more than frustration and shame, but anger. He was no toddler, to be threatened with switches and straps! He quite nearly said as much before he remembered the scope of the witches power; she might not have been an Asha'man, but he doubted that he could break her Shield before she had him helpless at her feet. The thought of how much pain and humiliation she could inflict was overwhelming in the best light.
"...as you say, Aes Sedai." He said dryly.
"I mean it, boy." She continued, her voice firm. "Next time, you will pay more heed to what you should be doing and less to conversations that are clearly not intended for your ears. Do not give me cause to reprimand you again."
“I wouldn't, Jasire Sedai." Said Theon, his voice as flustered as his face. "Please, forgive me."
Caron grunted, a strange mixture of sympathy and satisfaction. He wondered if the man would continue to smile after a lightning bolt struck him. When he realized what he was contemplating, he shivered and shoved the thought from his mind.
The crowd parted and gave them wide berth, but he suspected it would have done so with or without a Tar Valon guard. His gelding walked easily across the city grounds, no longer at a trot or canter. He could feel his shame, more pronounced now than he'd ever remembered it. He resisted the urge to burn it into the candle; the red-faced embarrassment would show that he was properly chastised, and an attempt at a calm, stubborn demeanor would only aggravate his escort. No matter how he fidgeted about, the horse kept at an easy walk. Had it not been for the guard, he might very well have created the impression that he could sit a saddle.
“Officer Caron." Said the witch. "Take this boy to the stables and see that he reaches the grand hall. One of the novices should take it from there."
The man nodded, his eyes shifting to Theon as if he was some kind of wild dog. Theon had considerable trouble coming from off his horse, but what else was new? If the officer had any comments, he certainly didn't give them voice. When both feet — such as they could be called — were finally beneath him, the Aes Sedai reached down to stroke the boy's hair, and he repressed a shudder. Perhaps it was meant to be a maternal gesture; Theon couldn't help but feel like a gelding with its ears getting scratched.
“When you reach the Mistress of Novices," She said, "Be respectful in every way. She will be far less lenient than I have been, and for good reason. If you are lucky, your name will be in the novice book before the bell strikes full.”
"As you wish, Aes Sedai." Said Theon.
“I’ll try to have a good scribe waiting for you.” She said to Caron, almost fondly. "Give your wife my regards!"
When the Aes Sedai departed, Theon walked almost in lockstep with the Tar Valon guard. He chanced to look up at the man's face, which was taut with frustration. Clearly, he was not looking forward to the rest of his afternoon.
“You know,” Theon began, “I have very nice penmanship.“
“Not on your life, sir.” Said Caron. "If you would be kind enough to keep walking, I would be greatly obliged. No mad-witchery on your part, either. Truly, I don't want to hurt you . . ."
The man must have thought he was quite mad then, because his unfinished warning forced the boy into an easy, mirth-filled chuckle. The noise was lost over the din of the crowd, but Officer Caron didn't appear to take it very well at all.
He thinks I'm just as much a witch as she, he thought. Oh, Light. What is the world coming to?
He thought he heard the man grumbling as they walked, but he didn't care. He knew he wouldn't have many more opportunities for laughter.
For once, there was no reason to be ashamed.
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Replies to A New Novice in the Ranks
- A Welcome, Of Sorts — Candance Sedai, Mistress of Novices, Sun, May 23, 2010 06:13 am
- Initiation — Novice Theon Mavidante, Sun, May 30, 2010 13:51 pm
