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by Dania Sedai Beverlae was born to a merchant family of moderate wealth in Mayene and had a very happy childhood, full of laughter and warmth. Her father was the son of an Andoran tradesman and had been born in Caemlyn; her mother was the daughter of a soldier in the Illianer army. They had spent many years traveling before settling down in Mayene. At 16, when her mother died to illness, she began spending all of her time with her beloved father who was stricken with grief. As the business began to suffer, she begged her father to take more interest before they lost everything. Soon, she began to fear she would lose her father too, to sadness and a broken heart. To her surprise he simply stopped weeping one day. It was as if he had never been sad at all. He simply said, "The time for crying is over." He turned the business around and after just one season, they had paid off their heavy debts. Beverlae continued working with her father, her fast mind and his selling instincts drew more and more gold. It seemed the all of Mayene could not get enough Snowmint to add to their Tabac. After two years, they had gained much wealth and power in Mayene, even invited to dine with the First herself on several occasions. Everything seemed to simply fall into place. Her father had even begun speaking of women again! At the end of the 4th season since her mother's death, her father suggested a trip to Caemlyn. He had relatives there, and he believed they both could use a rest. When his ship put into dock in Tear to unload some of it's wares, they entered the city to find a comfortable inn for the night. The trip to Caemlyn would be a long one, and one final comfortable night's rest would do them good. At the "Anchor Moon's Inn", they sat in the expansive common room, talking of her mother and the past. There was no real sadness, just fond memories that brought both smiles and tears. As the night wore on, Beverlae noticed an odd young man watching them. He had a group with him and she could tell was the most important among them. All the men in the group deferred to him, and the other patrons noticeably avoided looking at him. His hair was dark and wavy, cut short in the modern style, with a small pointy beard, making him look like some sort of wicked demon. His cheekbones were high and exaggerated by his icy blue eyes. He was an attractive man if not exactly handsome. His name was Rafayael, the son of a High Lord of Tear. The next day, a messenger from the High Lord arrived with an invitation to dine at his manor that eve. Being from Mayene, she and her father were naturally reluctant to trust any High Lord or his son, but they knew they could not refuse. The Lordling Rafayael's manor was lavish but for all his riches, he needed a wife and he desired Beverlae. Beverlae kindly refused him, but he would not be put off. Finally, he threatened to put so many restrictions on her father's business, it would surely fail. He said the First of Mayene would never upset the delicate balance she maintained with Tear to protect one Snowmint merchant, no matter how powerful he had become. As he sneered the last words, a loud crash was heard from the adjacent room. Running to the parlor of the garden where they stood, Beverlae beheld her father lying amid the broken glass of small sitting table for tea. He looked to be simply lying on the ground but when Beverlae ran to him to help him stand, she realized it was far worse. As she pulled her hand from his back when it was clear he could not rise, it came away covered with blood. She cried out in horror and fell backward to rest on the rich scrolled red carpeting and simply stared. "Find a healer!" she screamed at no one in particular. Rafayael stared at her for a moment and finally leaned in to whisper something to a servant who nodded quickly and ran out. For what seemed like hours they sat, Beverlae cried, staring only at her father who was barely breathing, Rafayael staring only at her. Finally an old woman, clearly a healer or wisdom, entered, quickly taking in the occupants in one long sweep of the room, but instead of approaching the fallen man, she stepped to the side of the doorway. A second later, another figure entered. A moderately tall figure, clearly a woman though her deep hood was pulled up and covered her face. She moved quickly and surely, the steps of youth. Almost on her heels came a man, but not just any man. This man exuded danger. He stepped like a stalking panther, each movement fluid and deliberate. While the old woman's eyes swept the room in an appraising glance, his eyes engulfed the room, seizing it and pulling up every shut lid, opening every closed door. Both figures stopped several feet from Beverlae's father. Rafayael moved forward, an indignant frown on his lips and outrage in his eyes but before he could speak, the woman pulled the hood from her face in one confident movement. Beverlae's eyes widened in surprise. The man with this woman was too young to be called middle aged, but still, was not a child. She put him at 35 years. He had brown hair with a reddish tint and was clean-shaven. He had the look of a soldier who had seen many around him die. He had the look of a soldier who had killed. The woman was beautiful with thick, straight hair of spun gold. Her eyes were the dark blue of the Sea of Storms. She had delicate features, slightly flushed from the thick hood, though she seemed untouched otherwise from the warmth. The most striking feature about her was her apparent youth, belied by the wisdom in her eyes. Beverlae could not put an age to this woman really, but she would have guessed mid twenties if not for those eyes. The effect was unnerving and she probably would have been more frightened if not for her father. Clearly she was not the only one who was unnerved by the woman. Rafayael took an involuntary step backwards and stammered, "..You..you cannot be here! I summoned the herb-woman, not you! It is against our laws." The striking woman calmly studied him, her eyes every bit as appraising as her escort and apparently reaching her decision, she moved past him and knelt in front of Beverlae's father. She glanced up at the weeping Beverlae after seemingly concentrating over the man a moment. "Help me child. Turn him over, we must remove the glass if I am to do any good." she said gently. Her escort removed his long forest-green cape and quickly spread it out on the carpet next to the fallen man to cover the broken shards. "Child, quickly! We do not have much time." Beverlae had been simply staring in wonder at the woman but at the commanding yet calm tone, she moved to do as she was told. They turned her father over onto his stomach and Beverlae cried out as she saw the gaping wounds and thin slivers of glass slid beneath the skin at irregular angles. The old woman by the door hurried to help. She pulled Beverlae gently but firmly away and began cleaning the wounds. After all the glass was removed, her father was turned over onto his back safely on the cape. Beverlae crawled over and laid a hand over his. The woman with the strange eyes, placed her hands on her father's chest and closed her them as if praying. Beverlae did the same, willing him to live. She thought of all the things they had said to one another, good and bad. She thought of her mother and begged her to help him live. She thought of the places they had been when she was a child, the things her father had shown her. She thought of the times he had wept like a baby in her arms when her mother was gone, and how she had hated her mother for leaving him, for leaving her. She thought of the struggle to keep her father's business alive when he was barely alive himself. She swore to herself that if he could only be allowed to live, she would make sure that never happened again. If his life is spared, she will marry this man. She will marry him, she promised! "Daddy, please live!" she cried out in her soul. Her breath caught in her throat as shivers ran through her body. She looked up to see the woman grasping her hand in a firm and cool grip, staring at her with those terrifying, knowing eyes. Beverlae tried to pull her hand away but the woman's grip was iron and the eyes just watched her, delving into her soul. Beverlae reached into herself, and pulled at the blanket of fear to cover her. She pulled at the darkness inside of herself to shelter her and hide her. She willed herself to lose consciousness and fell backwards, floating in a haze of distant voices, she was floating. "What you did was illegal in my nation, in my home!" a strong, deep voice demanded, echoing in the fog. "..He is healed, but will need food and rest." a soft flowing voice replied coolly. "It was illegal for you to do this here." the dark voice insisted. "Many things are illegal; perhaps the other High Lords would like to hear about your father's latest fishing expeditions." The flowing voice countered, becoming ice. "That will not be necessary...Aes Sedai." The deep voice growled, sounding far away. Aes Sedai...the name whispered to her of mystery and power, horrifying and awesome power of the Aes Sedai, even in her semi-conscious state. She awoke the next day and was married to Rafayael within a week. Three weeks after the wedding, Beverlae stood at the docks, watching her father's ship shove off. She waved and smiled at him, an assuring smile that she was happy and it was as she wanted it to be. As he was finally lost from sight, she sighed heavily but with relief. Relief that he seemed well, she had never found out what had made him collapse and relieved that he had not seen through her act. Surprised as he was, he would honor her wishes. He had only ever wanted happiness for his daughter. As she turned from the docks, a hand caught her arm. She looked up in surprise at the sudden grip. It was the man from the parlor, the man with the Aes Sedai. He must be her Warder she realized now. He nodded to her in polite greeting. "A friend would like a word with you, Miss," he said in a deep and raspy voice. As afraid as she had been, she was resigned now. She was married to a cold man, a tyrant who would never change. This Aes Sedai could do nothing to harm her. She nodded slightly and beckoned him to lead. She followed him through the streets of the Maule, finally used to the large wooden shoes worn by everyone to allow for movement through the perpetually thick mud in this district. They arrived at a small inn, out of the way of regular through traffic but comfortable and clean looking. Inside, she removed her shoes and followed the man up some steps to the second floor. He took her to a small cheery room, probably the inn's best and left to stand outside the door. The Striking woman was here, standing at the window, watching the street. She wore a long white dress of almost gossamer silk. Her hair was long, stretching almost all the way down her back and it flowed as she moved. She turned to Beverlae as she came in, a warm smile on her lips. "Sit, Beverlae, I would speak with you." Beverlae moved to a small chair in front of a vanity, watching the woman warily and expectantly. She attempted an indignant and challenging look, but she must have made it obvious, because the woman chuckled slightly and nodded. "You have spirit, this is good." The woman had a strong Andoran accent and her voice was cool and soothing. If a snowfall could speak, it would sound like this. "Why did you marry this man, Beverlae?" she said abruptly. Beverlae's mouth fell open a moment, surprised at the question. "I did it because I had to do it," she said, simply and honestly. The woman nodded and studied her for a moment longer. "You know what I am," she said. It was not a question and Beverlae simply nodded. The woman turned from her suddenly and moved to a large writing desk. She quickly pulled some parchment and a quill pen from an ornamented box. Dipping it in ink, she began to write. The soft scratching on the parchment, made Beverlae think of some small trapped animal. Abruptly, the woman stopped writing and sprinkled some sand on the paper to dry the ink. She rolled it up and took a green candle from the desk. A flame suddenly sprang to life on the wick, seemingly on its own and Beverlae noticed after a moment that her teeth were chattering. She forcibly stopped them, determined to show no more weakness. Beverlae turned in the chair and faced herself in the mirror. She saw herself for the first time in weeks. Her hazel eyes were sad and it seemed the shine had left them. Her long dark hair was pulled back away from her face, and up on top of her head with tiny ringlets pouring down on the sides. It was dressed in sparkling Blue-jade teardrops throughout. Her dress was green and slashed with bands of cream. Dark blue stripes adorned the garment and ended just above her knees marking her high station. She could not see the beauty that men said was there. Suddenly, she noticed the woman was standing in front of her, holding the rolled parchment towards her. Beverlae could see the wax seal with the signet of a Teardrop melted into it. A Flame, she realized suddenly, the Flame of Tar Valon. She took the scroll, looking at the woman questioningly. "My Gaidin will have sent for your carriage. Return to the manor and give this to your husband immediately. Do not delay Beverlae, it is important." Her blue eyes seemed to delve into her soul, slicing it up into little bits, weighing, measuring and recording each part and then placing them back as though unconcerned. Beverlae shivered and nodded in agreement, eager to be gone. Beverlae was antsy in the carriage on the way home, annoyed at herself and her weakness. She had always been strong, with a fierce temper but these last weeks had tamed her it seemed. Or so she had thought, but she realized now that the anger was back and she was ready to unleash it. Aes Sedai and High Lords playing with her life, playing with her mind and soul as though they were nothing! As she stood in the entrance Hall of the Manor, waiting for her husband, she contemplated her next move. Her husband thought he had married a kitten, but he was mistaken in that regard and it was time to show him. He strode into the room in full High Lord regalia. She rolled her eyes at his attire, sniffing in disdain at the opulence. He frowned darkly at her look, "What is so urgent that I had to meet you here?" he demanded. "I have a message for you," she replied in frosty tones. "As to meeting me here, no more reason than I wanted you to come to me." She held up the parchment. Rafayael's frown deepened and he snatched it from her hand. He glanced at the seal with a grunt, quickly broke it and began reading. His reaction was dramatic and certainly not what she expected. He looked up at her, eyes wide, face pale. He stumbled backwards several steps calling out for his servants. When they appeared he ordered them hoarsely to pack her belongings immediately. He would not look at Beverlae and when she asked him what was going on, he did not reply. It only took a few moments to pack the little she had actually brought with her to the home, and soon several bags were resting in front of the Grand Entryway on the gray marble floor tiles. He finally looked at her, abruptly turned away and strode off down one of the large connecting corridors. Soon another servant came from that corridor, picked up her bags and opened the large doors to the building. He held them wide for her. She walked out, more confused than she had ever been in her entire life but also more relieved. She came to the top of a long, stone set of steps leading to the Carriageway. At the bottom, was a well made carriage. It was not that of a High Lord, but one of a traveler who knew quality and had the gold to pay for it. Standing at it's door was the Warder. He held it open and simply watched her, waiting. Beverlae slowly made her way down the steps and taking one last look at the manor, climbed through the door. The Aes Sedai was resting comfortably in the far corner and smiling at her gently as she settled herself. "What is going on, Aes Sedai, what was in that letter? Am I going home?" Beverlae said loudly, fear and anger playing on her tone. The Aes Sedai held up a hand halting any further questions. "I will explain," she said softly. She locked gazes with Beverlae and slowly began, "Since before the Breaking of the world, Aes Sedai have stood as the first line of assault and the last line of defense for the Light against the Shadow. We heal the sick, end wars and attempt to bring about a peace so that all men may be united for the Last Battle, the Light send it is far off yet. Our work is endless, tiring, but the most rewarding there is. We can do things others can only dream about Beverlae and you are one of us. You have the gift and with training, you will channel the One Power. You will use Saidar to battle the Shadow and his evil. Do not be afraid child, for while there are dangers, you will be taught how to avoid them, how to outrun them, and to know when you must stand fast and destroy them. You will be a leader of men, Beverlae. This is your destiny." Beverlae stared at the Aes Sedai unblinking for several moments. Finally, she murmured quietly, "My father." "Your father will be fine, Beverlae, my letter took care of that. You need not fear for his business or his life any longer. No one thwarts the will of the White Tower, Beverlae. No one. You -will- channel the One Power and you -will- become Aes Sedai." Beverlae looked into her lap, stunned at the woman's words. Her mind was reeling at this astounding revelation. She did not know what to say or how to react. The Power?! She would channel the Power!? She could see now why her husband had reacted that way. The letter had probably told him. She did not know whether to laugh or to cry out in horror. She sat in silence for a long while, as the bags were loaded and tied down to a slight rocking of the carriage. Finally, she looked up at the woman across from her, who was still watching her and whispered, "What do I call you? What is your name?" The woman smiled gently, reached across and placed a warm hand on Beverlae's. "You will call me Camilyns Sedai. My Gaidin is Firayj and in answer to your original question, the answer is yes. Yes, Beverlae of Mayene, at long last, you are coming home." Return to the main page! |
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