The door, from the outside, looked like any of the others lining the walls in the Green Ajah halls: sturdy, oaken, with a faint polishing to both wood and the gold and brass latch used in opening it. The archway above it was of the same stone as the walls, though it arced in a graceful curve to break the relative monotony of the flat wall. Those who might have chosen to lay a hand on the latch without the occupant being inside would come to no harm, though knocking would result in a hollow ringing sound echoing through the room inside and the hall outside, but opening the door would not be a wise idea. The Sister who resided in these rooms had, since people had sneaked into her rooms, placed rather nasty weaves around the door that only activated when the door was opened. These weaves varied according to the Sitter's level of paranoia and bad temper upon her leaving, and could therefore have been anything from a bright and intensely hot wave of Fire to a weave that would slowly liquify the internal organs. She was nothing if not inventive, this Aes Sedai, and had a sadistic streak.  She usually had nothing of interest in her room, but she guarded her personal space with a ferocity as if she held the Horn of Valere in her quarters.

Upon entering the room, with permission of course, the first thing one saw was the Sitter's desk opposite the room and near the window. It was made of a lovely species of elm stained and lacquered into highly glossy dark depths. Along the legs and on the front were filigreed leaves and vines of gold metal. More often than not, papers were stacked or scattered about the desktop, and a candle or two in their holders in various stages of melt sat at the two top corners. A dark gray inkpot and white- feathered quill sat in the middle of them, lower down, sometimes on top of the papers themselves. The chair was thick and padded and of the same dark stained elm as the matching table, with the same kind of filigree. The cushions on it were a deep velvety wine colour. These two items were the only things in the room, however, that looked even remotely expensive.  There was a thick carpet-like rug on the floor in the center of the room that was quite brightly coloured, and another smaller rug near the large fireplace near the bookshelf in the room that was much darker hued.

The rest of the room was rather stark. There were curtains hanging at the window made of a dark green velvet, almost black, that hung nearly to the floor. The window itself opened out over the practice yards, where many WiTs could be seen practicing daily.  Everything was dusted and clean looking, as it should have been if the occupant was active and around constantly. There was only one small tapestry hanging on one wall, and it depicted a scene where an Aes Sedai with a green shawl and dress was throwing a weave of lightning at an oncoming Trolloc horde, four Warders with various weapons up to their necks in blood and Shadowspawn as they defended their Aes Sedai while she channeled.  She was dark haired and rather pretty, this immortalized woman, her face ageless and her tresses showing hints of gray.

On the left side of the room against the wall resided a tall bookcase filled with books and knick knacks. The books were varied, ranging from information on battle weaves, to weapons, to some fiction and historical things. They were bound in various colours of leather and hide, some looking old and others looking new. The knick knacks were small, for the most part, and were of ceramic or glass, sometimes wood or stone. There was one made of what appeared to be seashell. They were of figures, and animals, and one was a crimson crystal rose. They each sat as if they had their own special place on the shelves in the bookcase, as did the books behind them.

On the right side of the room there was another doorway, much less ornate than the outside one, that was made of an ash tree. It, too, was stained to be a darkened colour, and the latch was nothing but brass. It stayed closed most of the time, as it led into the Sitter's personal chambers, but was opened later in the evening or when she was fairly certain that nobody would be stopping by to see her. On the same side there was also a row of racks on the wall that contained myriad weapons. Swords of many kinds and lengths, ashandarei, bows, spears, daggers, whips, bolas, and many, many more were displayed there in all their splendour. They gleamed in the light where steel was bared, and glowed a little where leather was shown. They were the most well-kept things in the room by a large margin. They also gave the entire room a distinctly predatory and darkish atmosphere, or at least helped that sense along quite a bit. What made it even worse was the obvious lack of intentional intimidation of the room: the weapons were there not for frightening purposes, but because they were well loved and therefore showcased. It lent a very clear picture on the personality of the woman who lived in the rooms, although a look into her bedroom might have shown other myriad facets of her character to thoroughly confuse the visitor.

It was nothing new to the Gaidin of the Aes Sedai in question, as he had been near her enough to have memorized every detail of her rooms long ago, but he nevertheless looked over everything there upon entering each time.  It was part of his training, and in part because she had been known to acquire a new item for her collections now and again.  She had not in years, however, and this worried him intermittently when he visited her quarters.  It showed him that she was, perhaps, less content and happy than she had been.  The emotions he felt through the bond they shared pointed to it as well, and what he could sense from her often made him anxious.  She was all that he had left, really, that was constant in his life.

Rio’lan Shade Dyelra, Sitter for the Green Ajah and quite possibly one of the most intimidating Aes Sedai who had ever stalked the halls of the Tower, if some of the reactions of the trainees on both sides were to be believed.  And she has only me, Bandin Wolfsbane, for a Warder, he mused privately as he stood leaned against the wall near the tapestry to watch her work.  Not that she even needs me, but we still work together quite well.

He loved Rio, though not in any romantic form.  She was more like one of his extended family than anything, a close friend of his who had bonded him when they had both been grieving over their broken relationships.  They had leaned on each other heavily for support, knowing there were no others to allow the duty for their own various reasons: him because he had few people he cared for and felt close to, and her because she found very little in life to be worth her trust at all.  For that, she deserves my bond, he told himself, as he had done so long ago, because the woman was a boulder for me to cling to when I most needed her.  It helped him, when he felt her darkest thoughts and feelings and grew uncertain of her sanity or alliance to the Tower, to remember that she was as quietly noble as she was soft-hearted and caring, and that even if she didn’t believe herself to be a good person he was quite convinced nothing could make her anything but.

“You’re thoughtful, Bandin,” she said smoothly, like silk in a fall night.  Her voice was a rich timbre, dark and yet bright at the same time, and he had heard her sing a dirge once that showed she was an impressive alto.  “A copper for your thoughts.”  She looked up at him with curious, almond-shaped brown eyes, her face relaxed and almost youthful in its look, though the agelessness was unavoidable.  She was lovely, he freely admitted it even if other men wouldn’t, but there was far too much behind them for him to think anything of it other than that casual admittance.  Her brows were slightly arched, if thick, and the same brown as her long, heavy mane of hair she usually kept back in a braid.  It fell to beyond her waist, now, brushing her seat, and she was still built for turning a man’s head--especially dressed in her normal tunic and breeches.  Her skin was tanned from a life lived outside, mostly, and yet she was of a medium complexion.  Her lips were full, but not pouty, and the colour of pale mauve-pink roses.  Her cheeks were higher than average, but not considered “high” by any means, and her forehead was a decent breadth and height from brow to scalp, complete with lines from where she worried or frowned far too much. Her hand had paused in its scrawling out of a letter to the Creator-knew-where and the longish nails were a rosy pink where she gripped the quill with her fingers.  Her hands were long as well, but broad and stronger than they looked, and he could see the callouses and scars upon them.  Looking at her, he suddenly wondered just how old she actually was, not having counted the years in between when she first arrived at the Tower and this point.

Bandin knew enough not to ask the lady to spar with him.  The scars, the age, and the fact he had seen her move like a striking viper both physically and with the One Power made him wary of her.  It was far from the idea that she could best him either way, as he had been Warder-trained and could channel as well, but she was brilliant in a fight and had no qualms about tricking her opponent to gain the upper hand.  The idea intrigued him, on occasion, however.  Perhaps one day...

Her throat clearing snapped him back into reality.  He smiled at her and simply replied, “Only of the past, and you can see it’s not the bad things.”  She squinted at him suspiciously for a moment, something he found amusing more often than not, and then went back to her business with the letter.

Her wit left him speechless, when she used it.  He sometimes wondered how he had come to bond this force of nature who named herself Rio’lan, due to the fact he didn’t feel worthy of it.  Sometimes, he amended.  He had always felt strange, to say the least, with his golden eyes to mark him as a Wolfbrother. They contrasted greatly with his dark hair, to be sure.  He was by no means bulky in stature, but he was strong and quick.  He wasn’t terribly plain, and some women would name him handsome, but he found himself lacking in that area.  He wasn’t the kind to boast or brag about his looks when there were other things to worry about in life.  Like my Aes Sedai, he firmly told himself.

“What are you doing, Rio?” he asked casually after a time.  She was a Sitter, and much of their business wasn’t for him to know, but he knew that sometimes she would actually talk to him about problems she was having so that she could get another opinion.  If I do feel inadequate at any time, he told himself now as he’d done more than once, it’s when we speak of politics and gossip-mongering beyond the Shining Walls.  He had no use for either, really, and hadn’t much skill in it.  But she seemed to want his opinions anyway, regardless of the fact he often had no idea what to tell her other than his gut instinct, and took what he told her like he had Foretold something.  He had always found her delightfully strange at times, and different, but found he respected her and liked her personality.

She made a noise that sounded vaguely like, “Mmm” before stating succinctly, “One of my Eyes and Ears in Kandor has reported that there is a woman impersonating an Aes Sedai there, with the shawl and Great Serpent ring to boot.  She has no ageless face or grey in her hair, however, and can only channel enough to make herself look good.”

Bandin frowned.  “What makes you think she’s not actually an Aes Sedai, then?”

Rio looked up at him and grinned quite ferociously, showing most of her teeth.  “She shows no agelessness, which makes her a young Sister if she is one.  Younger, even, than Anara Sedai, and Anara is not newly raised.”

“That still means nothing,” Bandin pointed out.  He knew there had to be more.  Rio was far too conniving, even for an Aes Sedai, to simply base her entire opinion on that one shallow reason.

She chuckled.  “Indeed, it would not, except for the fact that any child so newly raised would have had to have been in the Tower recently, within the last decade, so that I would have seen her, and I know of no Atasha Sedai being raised.”

Bandin felt his lips quirk.  “There must be more than that, Rio.  She could be using another name for some reason.”  Wait for it, he told himself,  hiding his obvious amusement.  He knew she felt it through the bond, though, as she turned a bemused set of brown eyes to him.

“Of course,” she agreed as she lifted her quill to begin writing.  “But she claims to be a Green Sister, and I have raised no Green Sisters so recently who have left the Tower.”  The quill began to scratch again.

Bandin grinned at her and shook his head.  “What is she trying to do there?  She must be up to something...”

Rio dipped the quill into her pot and said, without looking up, “She is trying to insinuate herself into one of the powerful families there to be an advisor.  Her methods are clumsy, however, and have been easily picked up by my informant there in the House.  I am writing instructions to the woman that will be delivered to her by this informant, not an odd thing since the gentleman who takes in the pigeons ferries around the notes using my informant, that states perfectly politely that I had no idea a Green Sister was raised without my consent and that I would enjoy meeting the Aes Sedai who was so skillful as to pull it off.  If she would return to the Tower, we could help her get the position of advisor there should she convince us there was need, and that should prove simple for one so skilled as she...”  Rio’s lips twisted up in a feral smile.  “I am also writing out a short note to the head of the House warning him that the woman is false, and for him to perhaps look to his enemies and allies as to the one who has sent her to spy on him.”

The Wolfbrother blinked and frowned.  “You lost me there, Rio.  How did you figure out she was a spy?”  He scratched at his chin as he watched her thoughtfully.

Rio motioned with the quill, waving the question off as unimportant.  “I would rather not tell the man she may be Black Ajah in disguise trying to turn his House to the Dark.  Besides, it is quite believable that one of  the more bold familes there has an Aes Sedai advisor willing to stoop to such a level of behaviour for her own plots.  Kandor has been quite calm and peaceful for the past few years, and I would rather it stay that way until the number of Green Sisters has risen to deal with unpleasantries.”

He nodded, then paused, eyeing her.  “But you just said that you did not think that she was an Aes Sedai at all.  If she were being used by an Aes Sedai, wouldn’t you know the Sister were there from your reports?  And how did you know the false Sedai could channel?”

She cackled at his words without looking at him, still.  “I said I knew she was not a Sister because I didn’t raise her, and she was of my Ajah, and I should have had she actually been what she claimed.  I never said a member of another Ajah couldn’t have put her to it.  In this way, she runs back to her mistress with my letter in hand.  If she really is Dark, then they’ll be uncertain as to what I know or do not know about their plans and will—at the very least—take more caution in their dealings.  If she returns to an Aes Sedai puppet-master with it, the Aes Sedai will know I am quite willing and able to find out her identity and turn her in as heading the ruse where an untrained channeling woman was made out to be a full Sister when she should have been brought to the Tower for training, therefore endangering her life.  Either way, the House being victimized will get a little warning of something amiss and be on guard a bit more.”  She sounded smug as she finished.  “As for the little snit’s ability to channel, not all of the Eyes and Ears are regular folk.  Some are failed novices and Accepted, and others are retired Aes Sedai.”  She looked up at him, finally, and her eyes glittered.  “And some you really don’t need to know about, my Gaidin.”

Bandin just shook his head.  “Light help us all if you ever make Amyrlin, Rio,” he told her with a smile, “because you’ll most likely have the world at your feet in three to five of your own namedays.”

She smirked a little as she dipped her quill into the pot and finished writing her letter, the one before it rolled up neatly on her desk with her seal on it already.  “You should know by now, Bandin dear, that if you’re Aes Sedai, the world is already at your feet should you deign to take it.”  She placed the quill back in its place and dug out her sand to blot the paper.  “Some of us just don’t feel so foolish as to try, or feel the need to have the world when they are quite busy running their own Ajahs.”

But what if you weren’t running it? Bandin wanted to ask, but stayed silent.  She had plenty of opportunities and time before becoming Sitter, had she actually desired it, and never took it.  From what he knew of her, it wasn’t because she didn’t have the capabilities or the boldness to attempt it, but rather she had far too much decency to.  And wisdom, he had to add to himself.

She was pressing her seal into the wax when she next looked up at him and smiled.  “Would you mind terribly fetching a novice or an Accepted, whichever you can find the fastest, to take these missives to the pigeons?”  She motioned to the small, tightly rolled letters—notes, really—and continued to smile at him.  “I would, but there’s another letter that the Amyrlin sent my way that needs my attention.  It’s not terribly urgent, but it will be the last one I do today before I have no more.”

Bandin nodded and moved to the door gracefully.  “As you wish, my Sedai,” he intoned, half-mockingly, and grinned at her as he opened the door to her study.  She mirrored his expression, then blinked and that caused him to turn and look at the doorway, his hand already on the hilt of his sword at the feelings he suddenly got through the bond of unease and excitement.

He blinked at the figure of Dawnrider Gaidin standing there, a brow quirked at him and his fist still raised to knock, and then grinned somewhat less enthusiastically.  Rio had shown some strange emotions through the bond for the man he presently faced, and Bandin was almost certain she fancied Lendrith.  It made him happy, but knowing what he did of her past, and his, made him extremely protective of her nonetheless.  Besides, Bandin thought to himself briefly, this man hasn’t shown himself interested anyway and she knows it.  Which made the Wolfbrother all the more protective of her, actually...

“I’ll be back in a little while, Rio,” he told her over his shoulder.  “I don’t dare interrupt you when you’re talking to one of the Grey Sitter’s Gaidin.”

She chuckled rather ominously at the comment.  “Go ahead.  I’ll just tell whomever you send to stand outside until I’m finished.”

Bandin’s expression mirrored Dawnrider’s in its utter lack of emotion at the obvious sadism, though inside he was fairly sure that the other Gaidin was as amused as he was.  “So be it, then,” Bandin said as he turned and moved out the door and down the hall.

Maybe I spoke too soon? he asked himself, turning to look back once only to see that the other Gaidin had already entered and closed the door.  Looks like I’ll be getting all my impressions from the bond, if she doesn’t mute it to almost nothing like she’s prone to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Rio leaned back in her seat leisurely, her arms on the rests at her sides as relaxed as could be, and slowly gave the Gaidin a once over from head to toe as he closed her door behind himself.  She met his gaze, however, when he turned to face her once more.  “What brings you to my parlor, Dawnrider?” she drawled lazily.  She was quite reminicent of a lounging feline at the moment, and one could almost say that if she had been born with a tail it would be flipping idly right now.  “Not many Warders venture here without reason.  Perhaps they think the rumours of me eating my own are true, hm?”  She smiled a bit at him, a slow thing, and never let her gaze drop from his the entire time she spoke to him.

Dawnrider never really did smile, she had noticed, and the same was true here.  Although he does look a little worried, if I’m not mistaken, she mused as she watched his expression alter ever so slightly around the eyes.  She always watched the eyes of a person.  They never lied to her as to someone’s next actions or as to their feelings and thoughts, even when their face showed nothing.  The ones who had learned to hide what could be seen in their gazes were the ones she oftentimes found herself watching closely indeed.  “I do not generally listen to rumours,” she commented, then his tone went dry as he continued.  “Warders are not known for standing around the Training Yards gossiping.”

One fingernail clicked against the lacquered wood of the rest it sat upon, slowly, methodically, and noticeably.  The first time it did it, he almost flicked his gaze to where the sound came from, but kept it steady on her and simply watched with his peripheral vision.  “Then why in the Light would a man from my past, and an attractive one to boot even if he is already bonded, sidle into my study?  Surely you didn’t come to woo me!”  She widened her eyes innocently as one heavily scarred hand went to her chest in a gesture of shock.

She mocked him and he knew it.  His lips twisted in something of a half-smirk and half-smile as he shook his head a little at her.  “Forgive me for being bold, but I don’t believe I’m that mad yet.  There is no Taint on saidar.”

She chuckled and set her hand back down on the arm rest of her chair.  “Then perhaps I should woo you, instead,” she purred with a full-out smirk, fluttering her lashes at him.  “It’s been well over a decade since I’ve taken a lover.”

He coughed as if he were suddenly choking and she quirked a brow at the frantic look he cast at the door when he thought she wasn’t noticing.  “Don’t die,” she said drolly, “because it can’t be Healed.”  She channeled Air and slid over the chair near him so that it bumped the backs of his legs.  “Sit.  Whatever reason you have for coming to me, I’m sure that it has to be quite important.  Nobody visits me for friendly chatter.”  Mostly because if they aren’t scared witless by me, they’re either too busy or don’t like me, she added to herself, but let him think as he would.

He frowned at her and turned at the sound of the chair moving over the floor, having noticed her channeling, and then looked back up at her.  “I would prefer to stand, Sitter,” he stated almost apologetically.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously at him, much to his obvious unease, and she snapped, “Sit or I will tie you to that chair with weaves a bloody Forsaken couldn’t loose, Lendrith!  And you know better than to use a title when we’re here and nobody else is around.  You’ve not only saved my life, but you have seen me when I have been at my weakest.”  Fool man, she groused.

Dawnrider cleared his throat and took a breath to retort, then saw the look in her eye and felt her channel once more.  “Mmm, you have a point,” he responded without an expression.  “Quite gracious of you,” he finished as he sat in the proffered chair and leaned back.  There were things to be said about being bonded to the Grey Sitter, it seemed, and his unruffled acceptance, as if he had agreed on his own, irritated her slightly.

“Now,” she said pleasantly, smiling, “I believe you were getting to the reason why you were sitting in my study.”

He paused for a bare moment before he spoke.  “I guess I was, indeed,” he replied with a tiny shake of his head, as if wondering exactly how he had gotten into this predicament.  He became grave, then, and turned a solemn look on her.  “You have heard of the rumours of revolt, I assume?”

Her reply came after she gave him a wary look in return, squinting at him a little.  “Perhaps,” she drawled.  “Some might say that if I could grow worried about those rumours, I might be.  Why do you ask?”

He turned his gaze to her window, not saying anything, and then stood to pace to it.  He rested his hands upon the sill of the window and frowned fiercely outside at the Yards below.  “Strange how I find I cannot speak to you, of all people, about something dealing with battle.  I have watched you lose all control of yourself and kill a Black Sister for collaring you, and have seen you in battle in Murandy on that huge stallion of yours, have watched as you downed enough oosquai to make the entire Warder training program drunk, and yet I cannot find the words to describe what is running through my head when it has been so simple before.  I don’t understand it.”

She frowned, herself, though it was aimed at him.  “Perhaps because somewhere deep inside you, you think my opinion matters to you in this?”

He grunted a little and shook his head a fraction, though he didn’t look at her.  “Your guess is as good as mine, in this.  If I could tell you, I think you could judge for yourself or see something that I do not.”

She sighed and rose with a fluid grace, very much like a cat moving from repose to action, and her steps were almost silent as they took the few paces separating them.  She leaned against the wall near him, arms folded under her breasts, and tilted her head at him curiously.  “Then don’t think of me as an Aes Sedai, or as a Sitter.  I am only a woman, Dawnrider, even if I happen to be a woman holding a position of power.”

He gave her a wry smile, or what appeared to be a smile.  “I couldn’t possibly have guessed you were a woman.”  At her look, he got a faint tinge of colour to his face and looked back out of the window instantly.  “Hm, yes, but my point is that it’s easier said than done, I suppose.”

She snorted loudly, causing him to look at her with lifting brows.  “Are all men wool-headed?” she said to nobody in particular, though it made Dawnrider’s expression alter to a single lifted brow.  She shook her head at him.  “I don’t particularly enjoy guessing games,” she grumbled at him irritably, motioning with one hand, “so if you wouldn’t mind explaining to me what about the rumours of revolts was so important that you felt the need to see me....?”

He had turned away from her as she had spoken, closing his eyes with a sigh.  “I am to lead it,” he finally said, almost inaudibly.

Rio blinked in shock, her face suddenly open so that her emotions were plainly on it, and met his gaze with a silent one of her own when he faced her again.  He noted the absence of a guarded expression and blinked in shock himself, opening his mouth to say something to her, but she beat him to it as she began to speak her thoughts aloud.  Her brain was whirring at the speed of a bolt of lightning, it seemed to her.  “I would say that you had come to ask me about battle-plans and tactics, but you wouldn’t dare risk your security for something you could do yourself, you and your allies.  You wouldn’t come to speak with me about getting support from my Ajah, knowing how many wouldn’t side with you.  So, you must have come to ask me to join you, am I right?”

He just stared at her for a long moment before his expression softened ever so slightly.  “At least the tales of your intelligence were true, I see,” he murmured almost ruefully as he searched her face with his gaze.  “You are correct.  I need you.  We need you.  You hold more sway than you think, and you would make a strong ally.  You must have seen how the Tower has been suffering....?”

She winced involuntarily at his words and looked out the window, her expression trying to close once again and not succeeding.  Light, he’s asking me to betray the Amyrlin Seat and the Hall I sit in, she marveled.  “Yes, I have, and though I cannot abide by it any longer, I don’t think you fully understand what it is you’re asking of me.”

He moved so that he could lean out the window, making sure he was in her view and waved a little for her attention.  “Rio, look at me.  Please...?”  She turned her gaze back to him, her lips pressed tightly together, and he gestured with one hand.  “This Tower, it stands to fight the Dark and we can’t allow it to become decadent or to be governed crudely.  We must remain strong, and become more so.  Those in power will not listen to pleas any longer, and they will not relinquish their power even for the greater good.  It has come to this, and we have to be strong before we can succeed.”

She met his gaze with an intense and angry, and even frightened, brown one.  “Shall I tell you a story?” she told him in a very low voice, like the breeze that ran through the window and streaked through her hair and clothes to ripple both.  She continued without waiting for him to answer, however.  “There was once a little girl who was accused of a crime she did not commit, and who was therefore ousted by her clan.  She ran to the only people who would help her, as she could sense a flood was on the way and her family was in danger.  She couldn’t save them, however, and then learned she had caused the flood herself because she was so upset.  She grew up to be a dark, wicked woman who killed those close to her easily, and who even warped the mind of a young child so that the little girl grew up into a killer worse than the one who had turned her into that monster.

“And then the woman, fully grown, found herself without a memory and with a second chance.  A chance for redemption.  She took it, and found another family to call her own, and when the memories returned to her they put her on the path of darkness once again.  But because of her family, and her duties, and all that they had done to show her she was innately a good person still, that darkness could never fully take hold of her.”  She watched his expression for a moment, then continued.  “And now you ask her to go against the remainders of her family, since she has lost so many, and perhaps kill them, all for the sake of your idea of what this Tower should be.”

He never changed his expression, or removed his gaze, but when he spoke his voice was as quietly intense as hers.  “Would you rather see this world become what the Dark One desires it to be, if the Tower cannot withstand Tarmon Gai’don?  Would you rather see all of your family die in that battle, and the unlucky ones survive it to become the food and prey of Shadowspawn?”

She hissed out a sigh.  “You don’t know that we’ll fall!” she exclaimed without raising her voice, leaning in closer, her eyes narrowing.  “What is to say that doing this won’t harm this Tower more than help it?  We will be divided instead of whole, Dawnrider.  Friend against friend; Ajah against Ajah; civil war....?  Is this what you envision the Lord Dragon needs in his fight?”

He straightened, his eyes flashing just as angrily as hers, and his voice just as low.  “What is to say that having so many things wrong won’t be a ripe bed for the Black Ajah and Forsaken to work their wiles in and break the Tower, destroy it, before then?  I would rather have a Tower to fight the Last Battle with than none at all.”

“But you’re asking me to fight against my family!” she finally declared in a snarl.  “You’re asking me to turn my back on everyone who has survived this far and to perhaps kill them, if they didn’t kill me first, and to become what I once was.  How will I help you if I’m as Dark as a Dreadlord?”

“How will you survive when we do this anyway and you’re forced to fight against the family you have on our side?” he riposted, calming in the face of her rage.  “You cannot help but fight against family in this situation, Rio, and a great many of the ones at fault are your family.  Or they claim to be so.  Exactly what have they done to show you they are what they claim recently...?  Who has of your family?  I can tell you now that the names you speak will be on my side in this.”  He sighed deeply.  “Look, Rio, if you can’t avoid fighting your family, then why not be with those who actually care for you?  Doesn’t that say anything for our motives against theirs?  Does it show you that we might actually be right to do this thing...?”

She turned from him fully and leaned against the sill, holding it with both hands, her head and body bowed so that her long braid slithered over her back to fall towards the floor.  She closed her own eyes and tried not to think too much for the moment.

“Rio,” he stated softly, “please.  We need you.  You are like me in this.  You’re loyal to the Tower and what it stands for above any single person in it or running it.”

She never looked up, but simply said, “Let me think on it for a while.”  Her voice, even to her own ears, was tired and worn as if she had lived twice as long as what she actually had.

He murmured, “As you will.  You know where to reach me, if you decide.”  She heard him move after a long moment, and heard his steps retreat to her door.  It opened, then she heard it shut a moment later.

She straightened after a time and composed her features into their usual ageless and emotionless mask.  She then turned and went to her desk to sit once more, and stared at the door with sightless eyes.  She broke her far-away stare a little while later and reached for the missive she had laid aside when Dawnrider had entered, but saw that her hand trembled far too much to even hold it.  Light blasted man! she raged silently, willing herself to be calm and for her hand to stop shaking.  How dare he do this?  She felt self-righteous in her anger, demanding to herself how he could betray her friendship in such a way and how he thought she could do the same of her other close family and friends.  He’s in the wrong.  He has to be, she affrimed mentally.

But if he is, she heard a voice in her head whisper, then why is it you feel so guilty for agreeing with him, regardless of the pain it would cause...?  He had taken a risk with telling her what he had, and she couldn't help but admire him for it.

Rio hissed in vexation at the idea, knowing it was true.  The tenuous emotions she felt coming through her bond with Bandin told her he was hurrying back to her quarters to see what had her so riled up.  She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that the novice messenger would have to wait for a while, now.  I need to speak with my Gaidin, she decided, and make sense of the mess this is swiftly becoming.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“And so I told you about taking care of business, saddled up Mordero, and we headed out,” Rio explained to Bandin as their mounts walked along.  “Whatever else may happen, we do need to investigate the Blight activity to determine whether or not the Mother should be involved, or if there’s anything to even be of concern.”  She sat astride a fleet-looking, yet tall and powerful, horse that was the colour of pearls.  Mordero was definitely his father’s son, but whereas Cheyhrad had been the blinding white of new-fallen snow, Mordero had a tinge of gray to his hue that muted the brightness even in the sun.  He had been trained by Rio herself as well as some others to be a proper warhorse, and he dwarfed his rider just as his father had done.  His gait, though the same as Cheyhrad’s with its unholy speed, was like his dam’s in that it was as if one rode a cloud even at a full gallop.  He was a gorgeous animal just barely four years in age, still haughty and proud and hot-blooded, but he was well-trained and did as he was told.

Rio patted the muscled and long neck in front and underneath her as she spoke, smiling a little.  “Do you think we’ll find trouble here in Saldaea?” Bandin asked from beside her.  He had opened a gateway for them about a half day’s journey away from their destination so that they could ride into the city and talk.

The Green chuckled slightly.  “I’m hoping we do, and yet I’m hoping we don’t.”  She sobered suddenly, losing her smile as she looked at Bandin.  “You do recall what I told you...?”

He lost some of his mirth as well.  “Yes, I do.  Should anything occur, your things will be saved and Mordero will be taken care of.  If anything happens, that is... I am hoping nothing does, you know.”

Rio looked off at the distant city walls that every one of her stallion’s steps brought them that much closer to.  “It will happen, Bandin, rest assured.  Just don’t let them confiscate my things to dole out amongst themselves once they know I’m dead, that’s all I ask.  I would rather my memory not be made into a contest of who can find the most interesting thing in my belongings.  This is why I left it unwarded this time, because you now know.  I feel better in the knowledge that you will keep people from my things.”

Bandin hunched his shoulders a little, his colour-shifting cloak making bits of himself and his mount vanish and reappear sickeningly.  “I can’t think that they would stoop to the equivalent of picking at your carcass, Rio.  They do care for you, all of them.”

Her face remained expressionless and her voice was frigid when she answered.  “Not all, Bandin dear.  Some feign it for reasons of their own.  I’ve realized this now.  I know who my true friends are, and which ones are my family and which aren’t.  The ones who aren’t are the ones you mustn’t let near my things.”  She fell silent for a long moment before speaking once again.  “Some of those knick-knacks on my bookshelf are actually *angreal, you see.  Gifts from past family, and loves.  I found one or two.  I would rather the Violets not discover them or take them.  They meant more to me than simple channeling aides, and will hold memories after I’m gone that I would rather not have anyone defile until nobody is around to recall those instances.”

Bandin looked up at her and smiled a little.  “That may be after Tarmon Gai’don, Rio, if any of us survive.  You may not survive it, you know, let alone any of the time leading up to it.”

She just looked at him for a long minute, and he met her gaze second for second.  One of her brows twitched up, oddly enough, and through the bond passed any feelings that either of them may have felt.  He chuckled, then, and shook his head.  “The world at your feet...” Bandin told her, trailing off and grinning.

Rio laughed lightly and booted Mordero up into a trot, which Bandin echoed with his own mount.  “We have things to do, my Warder,” she told the Wolfbrother aloud, “and the sooner we do them, the better we’ll be!”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The lone figure leading two mounts stopped in front of the White Tower as the sun peered over the horizon and stained the shining walls a crimson hue like blood.  It also stained the white horse the same colour, although he had no wounds unlike the second mount.  The wind rose and winged its way through the courtyard and over the gates, rustling the trees of the garden and fondling the banners that resided on the walls and parapets of the Tower that stood so far above the man.  The ruby colours of the sky reminded him of something Rio had always said about such things: “Red sky at night: sailors’ delight.  Red sky at morning: sailors take warning.”

His golden eyes still held the sadness he felt.  Light, but I’ll miss her, Bandin thought as he gazed at the suddenly hollow Tower.  Or it felt hollow to him: Rio was not there.

The saying brought him back to reality, and he almost had to smile at how ironic it was.  How did she know? he wondered to himself.  How did she know...?  She has never had the Foretelling.  He frowned.  She never HAD it.  I must get used to saying that, mustn't I?  She had told him of the threat of a revolt, and they had received a message asking that they return to the Tower since it had apparently been growing in truth as well as in numbers.  If anything occurred of it, those supporting the Mother were needed to help defend against the traitors.

She had wanted to ride out anyway to check on one area of the Blight and Borderlands she had a sense about, and they had done so.

Bandin sighed deeply, steeling himself as he walked inside the gates of the Tower and handed off the two mounts to a stablehand.  He had to see the Amyrlin Seat, and speak to all those Rio had charged him with telling the news to before it spread like wildfire throughout the Tower.  She had told him to do so, and he would.

He squared his shoulders and set his jaw as he strode for the first flight of stairs.  He had to tell them of the demise of Rio’lan Shade Dyelra, the Sitter for the Green Ajah, and he was not looking forward to the deed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He stood tall and still, his face not showing any emotion, as he told his tale once again, for what seemed like the thousandth time in one day, as he faced yet another group of Rio’s friends.  “We had ridden out to do one last check on the Borderlands and Blight.  We only had a small group of men with us since we thought the area was clear.  It wasn’t, however.  There was a fist of Trollocs with a Fade there waiting for us, in hiding.  They had obviously been following us, we thought at first, and had laid the trap themselves.

“We should have known better than to expect such intelligence from one fist of Trollocs, though.  They had a Dreadlord with them that Rio never saw, a man I’d never seen before but who was of lesser strength than me.  I didn’t know he was there, either, until the ground erupted under Mordero’s feet and he reared.   She held onto the saddle as I knew she would, but I was too busy decimating the Fade and Trollocs to try to help her.  Rio had been after the Trollocs as well, you see.  I tried to get to her to help protect her as fast as I could.

“I guess she got shielded, because suddenly I saw a Trolloc arrow hit her high in the right shoulder when she had had up a sheild of Air to deflect just that type of thing, and I felt it through the bond.  It knocked her from the saddle, though Mordero kept the Shadowspawn at bay till I could get there.

“We had agreed that I shouldn’t channel in front of the men, let alone in a battle that we could so easily win with her channeling and my fighting skills.  We also had the wolves, as well, and a nearby pack was joining in with us while this happened.  The Saldaeans were fierce fighters, I might add, and were a tribute to their country.  But when I reached her, I told her that I would Heal her once I removed the Trolloc arrow, knowing it would be agony due to the barbs.  She instructed me to channel and destroy the Dreadlord since he was picking off the Saldaeans, and so I left her side long enough to wage a war with that Shadowsouled goat-kissing son of a Trolloc whore.”  His fists clenched as a sudden light burned in his eyes.  “It took a while, but I got him to flee and call his remaining Trollocs off with him when he went.

“However, as they retreated, I felt him channel again at our remaining people.  I flung out as broad a shield of Air as I could, but I wasn’t in time, or else didn’t make it big enough.  The bond snapped...”  He scrubbed his hands through his hair and over his face, composing himself as he listened to the faint negations from those around him, as if they couldn’t believe it.  When he looked up, Bandin was once more calm and in control.  “I couldn’t find her body due to the violence of the weave the Dreadlord had used.  I don’t even have anything of her left to let the Mother embrace.”

“Light,” he heard someone breathe softly, and it was echoed by others.  He could smell their shock, disbelief, and horror at hearing the news of the impossible.

“If you will excuse me,” he apologized as he turned away, “I have to take care of her things, as she asked me to do in case anything occurred like this.”  He didn’t wait for their leave to walk away, but simply strode off in the direction of the Green Halls to do what his Aes Sedai had told him.
 

The cloaked figure had watched from the vantage point of the roofs of Tar Valon as the revolt occurred in the Tower and people had fled elsewhere.  She had remained well hidden so that they wouldn’t see her, fairly confident that not too many of them were watching the roofs of the houses and buildings for channeling women with Illusion on them.  The bond told her that her Gaidin had fled with the others, marking them as the ones Lendrith had been trying to depose.  The knowledge that he had succeeded quirked her lips only a little, followed as it was by the question of how many people she knew had died in the process.

And now it’s time to return, she told herself as she slithered down to the road to begin her trek to the White Tower.  She dropped her Illusion as well.  My task of staying out of the fighting is complete.  I achieved my own victory even as Dawnrider achieved his own.

The guards allowed her access readily enough once they saw the ageless face and the ring around her neck, and she stood for a long moment in the courtyard watching everyone bustle about busily.  She went to the stables first and greeted her horse, delighted to see that he had been left where he was and having the hope that perhaps her quarters were still untouched by the fighting.  As far as she had been able to tell, the revolt had occurred the same day as the news of the Green Sitter’s apparent death.

She had to laugh at the idea as she made her way to the stairs for the second floor.  One of the Accepteds on duty to listen to requests to see the Mother or Hall called out to her, but didn’t recognize her when she showed her the ring and ageless face.  She curtsied well enough, however, and went back to her work.

Her study was, indeed, intact as if she had never left it, which was what she had asked her Gaidin to do for her before he left.  She had to grin at the plan she had worked out for him: he remained bonded to her, and mourned for his Sedai’s passing so that he never wanted to bond again, and used his Wolfbrother ways to leave the other group for long periods of time to mourn her.  In fact, he would open a gateway to visit her once he was away.

She stretched and popped her back slowly, then heard the door open and several voices stop upon seeing her.  She didn’t turn around as she heard Dawnrider ask sharply, “Who are you and what are you doing in this room?”  She felt at least one woman channel, which meant it could be him for that matter, and the sound of steel being bared came to her ears.

She smirked a bit as she turned around, slowly drawing down her hood as she did.  “Just returning to alert you that you should never believe I’m dead until you see the body....”

One of the women with him fainted promptly before she could see who it was and she felt both brows rise at the way the others paled significantly.  “Have none of you ever seen someone return from the dead before?” she asked drolly.

Dawnrider finally managed to splutter, “Bandin told us you were dead!”  He looked adorably flustered and she duly noted it, though with some faint alarm as to why she found it adorable.

“He told you what I wanted him to tell you,” she corrected as she carefully drew off her cloak and tossed it onto her desk.  “I can assure you I have never been deceased.”  She gave them a scathing look.  “Really, though, I would have thought you all knew me better than that....”

“What do you mean?” Dawnrider asked warily, his attention half on the woman being revived on the floor.

Rio laughed out loud at him, drawing his attention to her again as well as the others as well.  “One,” she ticked off on her fingers, “you should know I’m far too stubborn and smart to be led into the kind of situation Bandin described, let alone die in it.  Two, Bandin would have been far more upset than what he was had the bond truly been snapped with my death.  Three, he didn’t have my dagger, and even had I been blown to bits he would have found at least that to bring back with him.  And the most important one is the fourth one....”

“Which is?” Dawnrider asked, taking her bait with his arms folded across his chest, a smile growing on his face.

Rio shrugged a little.  “There were no wounds on Mordero, and there should have been with no Aes Sedai there to Heal them and with Bandin grieving at the loss of his bondmate so that he couldn’t take care of them either.”  She tsked at them all as she sat.  “So unobservant...”

Dawnrider turned away to help the Accepted off the floor--and it was an Accepted, as Rio could now see, although the girl was in a normal dress-- and casually threw over his shoulder, “Clever of you to do that, mind, to keep out of the fighting.”

“My thanks,” she responded just as casually.  “I believe I’ll make the rounds of my Ajah and my family in a little while, if you don’t mind.  They need to know the Sitter has returned.”

Dawnrider looked at her sharply as he released the Accepted.  “What makes you think you are the Sitter?  Perhaps we have chosen another.”

Rio snorted at him, then gave him a toothy grin.  “As you once told me, Lendrith, I’m loyal to the Tower alone.  I took the Sitter position when nobody else cared enough about the title to have it, and refused to spill the blood of my Sisters on the halls of the Tower.  It chose me, rather than me choosing it.  So, unless you would like to be a traitor against the very Tower...”

“All right, all right,” he interrupted with a wave of his hand to cut her off.  “You made your point, and we haven’t actually chosen anyone.  You may find you’re no longer alone in you position, though.”

Rio shrugged at that.  “We’ll see how they work out, and all that.  Now,” she said as she sauntered up to them, smiling.  “I would like to frighten people with my presence at this time and let everyone welcome me back home.  Would anyone care to accompany me...?”  She looked right at Dawnrider as she spoke, then a gleam of deviltry came into her eyes.  “I would love to know why you wanted to come into my study again, Lendrith,” she purred.  “You seem unable to stay away.  Perhaps we should speak about this...?”  She hugged his arm closely with a wink and grin for the others and led him out into the hallway in front of her study.  “You realize you don’t have a revolution to save you this time....”

“Brazen, aren’t we?” he muttered, then said a bit louder, “I am bonded already, you know!”

Rio fluttered her lashes at him, smiling quite prettily, and replied sweetly, “Who said I wanted your bond, my dear?  Your spear will do just fine....”  She patted his upper arm amiably as he reddened and glanced around as if he wanted nothing more than to hide.  It is good to be home, she said mentally, and the thought left her with a warmth that she hadn’t felt in ages.

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