Ball-ance

[Ilya Masalkar]

Spring 113 FA

A cold wind whistled past the imposing black walls. Melting frost that could crack lesser stone had no effect on them; at times it seemed the Black Tower had stood unmarred on the plains of Caralain for as long as he could remember. Yet only a hundred years ago, this place had not been called Caralain at all.

Asha’man or not, however, any man was susceptible to cold. Ilya had never quite mastered the trick of keeping the elements out. Even within ko’di, that ancient blademaster’s trance, he could not shake his awareness of the early spring chill, or of the little warmth offered by his black coat. With saidin within him--only a trickle, but a raging, burning trickle--he felt it ever the more keenly.

Ilya had only been out of the Borderlands for a few years now, he thought as he studied the glowing blue orb of light in his hands. He was already going soft. He’d spent far too long with the Atha’an Miere, he decided. They’d corrupted him somehow.

Flows of Air sent the orb gently drifting from his hands. They floated a few paces before sinking to the ground, rolling off the sharp ditch in front of him. The soldiers had been practicing with Earth earlier that day, and when Ilya had accidentally dropped a saidin globe into the trench they’d dug as he passed by, an idea had come to him. There, the orb joined many others like it. A pastel rainbow of soft glowing hues were spread out in every direction in the pit, some still half-hanging in the air. The Dragon and Sword pinned to his collar already proved him far beyond making lights; the blue waves climbing his sleeves, indicating his rank as Captain-General, only further cemented it. But his work for the day was done, and there were very few who could determine how he spent his free time.

He wove Fire and Air again to form two more orbs in his hands before letting them go. They really ought to think of more decorative ways to use saidin, Ilya thought. For all he despised the barbaric practice of taking damane, he had heard their Sky Lights could be beautiful. If free Asha’man and Aes Sedai could produce something better, something even more beautiful, it would be another strike against the custom....

He sent the orbs floating away, this time up and away. He barely noticed when one of the globes collided with someone’s head behind him. The curse the other spat out did attract his attention, however.

“Ah, Johar,” Ilya said as he turned around with a smile. “Have you come to join me?”

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Though Johar could Travel where he wished, and often did, he still missed the days (long ago, now) when he’d been free to wander where he would. Still, being more-or-less permanently stationed at the Tower itself had its advantages. He had his finger on the pulse of things, so to speak. It was nice, being in the thick of things instead of stuck out in bloody Tai’Seanchan exile.

And he could catch up with old friends whenever he liked, ha. He could even inform them of their flaming library fines in person. Really, he was doing Ilya (and by extension the rest of the Captain-Generals) a favor by delivering the message himself. He could’ve sent a soldier or Dedicated running with the message—soldiers in particular were essentially errand boys who ought to be glad for something to do, if you asked him—but Ilya wouldn’t want to be embarrassed like that, would he? He wouldn’t want the soldiers knowing a Captain-General couldn’t flaming well pay his library fines.

He was aware that his friend held saidin, sensing that distant feeling of power and menace, but he wasn’t quite sure what Ilya was doing with it. Whatever it was looked unimportant and therefore ignorable, at least until one of those glowing balls slapped him in the face.

“Burn you, Ilya, what are you doing?” Jo snapped, swatting the ball away without the aid of saidin. Somewhat to his surprise, it drifted off, wobbling like an overlarge soap bubble. “Join you at what, exactly?”

The man appeared to be filling a...ditch, yes, with more of these glowing orbs. Jo could see that. He couldn’t see what it had to do with Healing, or with anything else official and therefore meaningful. He’d made similar balls of light countless times, though he’d generally balanced them above a hand to use as a torch or stuck them to a wall to read by in bed. He’d generally stuck to one, too, not an entire ditch full of the things.

Weapons? That’d be interesting, though he doubted it given the way the one that struck him had bobbled peacefully away. If you stuffed a ditch full of balls that would explode on contact, though, Johar could see the utility in that. Or if you scattered them throughout a field, maybe…hm. Yes.


Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Ilya only smiled as he produced another glowing ball. He gently bounced it up and down in his palm as he spoke.

“Making lights,” Ilya said. “What do you think of my Earth Lights? That’s not the final name, of course. But you’ll be able to do more with these than just look at them. They should be firm enough to hold and pick up, but soft enough that you couldn’t hurt someone with one. Maybe they could even break a fall.”

He nodded to the pile of orbs in the trench behind him. “I’m trying to make enough of them that you could jump in, but I don’t know that I can manage it myself. I’m tying off the flows, but they start falling apart eventually.”

“I suppose you aren’t just here to talk about —balls, though,” Ilya added. He nearly said my balls, only correcting himself at the last possible instant. The thought made him flush. Light! Being raised to Captain-General hadn’t gotten rid of his ability to blunder, that much was clear.

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Lights! What use were those? Johar had seen his share of Sky Lights growing up in Ebou Dar, of course, and saw the association with Ilya’s ‘Earth Lights’ easily, but he could see no earthly (ha) use for the things. A bunch of balls stuffed into a hole in the ground wasn’t exactly an impressive display on par with Tai’Seanchan Sky Lights.

He certainly had come here to talk about something other than Ilya’s firm but pleasantly soft balls, of all things, but the library fines could wait for a moment. Johar was still stuck on Ilya’s balls. He didn’t like things he couldn’t understand, and while he’d seen Ilya do any amount of daft things over the years, this was a bit of a puzzle.

“Break a fall?” Jo echoed, squinting at the balls. “Why would anyone fall into them? Why would you dive into them?”

He definitely felt no urge to dive headlong into Ilya’s balls. Never had and never would, not even if they came in a festive array of colors. Earth Lights! Ha. A bit of silliness might be allowable in a soldier or Dedicated (thought Johar, who had absolutely never been silly even once in his life, not even as a street tough in Ebou Dar), but Johar doubted even the silliest of the Black Tower’s initiates would be interested in wallowing in a ditch full of colorful balls.

Honestly, they’d be much better if they exploded. Much, much better.


Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

He had to admit that the idea sounded ludicrous, at least out loud. But that was only because neither of them had ever tried it. It also sounded fun. Maybe. Probably? He was suddenly not so certain of this anymore. One of the orbs winked out of existence. He frowned at them for a moment before looking back at Jo.

“Well, for fun, obviously,” Ilya said. Obviously. Why else would one jump into a ball pit? “Imagine a carnival, but with attractions made with the One Power! Wouldn’t that be something? I bet we could raise money for the Black Tower with admissions, and…”

He trailed off absent-mindedly. If they could use the One Power to create and destroy, why not use it to entertain, too?

“Well, I’m getting ahead of myself. Why not a little fair for the soldiers and their families? I bet you could come up with some ter’angreal for it, too.”

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Johar was capable of recognizing that perhaps he was being unfairly cross about this, but he was still ruffled by having Ilya chuck one of the things into his bloody face. They looked hopelessly silly, too. There was no denying that. Unbefitting of his dignity, just as Ilya’s proposal for some sort of carnival was unbefitting of his (and everyone’s) dignity.

Well, now he was cross because he sort of liked Ilya’s plainly ridiculous idea. He wanted to go to a flaming carnival.

“You don’t think that’s...beneath us?” Johar asked, irritable. Even for the soldiers and their families, the idea seemed absurd. “I mean, wafting people around with the Power...I can’t see the bloody Aes Sedai doing that. What are we, jesters? We’re not here to amuse people!”

No! Certainly not. Johar had made his peace with Aes Sedai, but the fact that they had three thousand years of history on their side compared to the upstart Black Tower grated on him. He couldn’t help but feel slightly put off (slightly intimidated, though he’d never admit it) by the weight of that history, and determined to prove himself, and by extension the Black Tower, their equal, if not their superior.

They wouldn’t do that organizing flaming county fairs using the One Power. Good grief.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

“Historically, not much has been beneath the Black Tower,” Ilya said. He winced; even decades-old memories could still sting. “As for the Aes Sedai, it wouldn’t kill them to loosen up. They’re the bloody Servants of All, which they really ought to remember more often. Perhaps we should throw them a party.”

Even Ilya cringed and had to shake his head at that. He wasn’t mad, thank you—he’d been born long after the taint had been cleansed. Admittedly, the mental image of soldiers serving drinks to stiff-backed sisters was sort of hilarious. The Black Tower’s stern dining hall decorated in the finest silk tablecloths while men and women stared at each other like wary cats.

“Look, we do plenty of useful stuff already. Why not something fun? Here, catch,” Ilya continued, tossing the ball he was holding to Johar.

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Well, Ilya had a point there. Historically, the Black Tower had gone through...er, less than impressive periods. Recently, even. They’d both had a direct hand in the most recent one, for that matter, though Johar and Ilya had both been Dedicated at the time and far from in charge of things.

He grimaced. The grimace deepened at the idea of throwing the Aes Sedai a party. Johar didn’t hate them—was tentatively fond of the Browns, even—but he wasn’t about to do bloody tricks for them, like a trained dog.

“Fun?” Jo asked, catching the ball. He lobbed it back, sending it bobbling towards Ilya. “I have fun. I have lots of fun. We can go to Caemlyn for drinks if we need fun.” And dice. And women. None of which were Power-crafted.

Not that he was especially fond of carousing in Caemlyn, if he was honest. It felt painfully tame compared to Ebou Dar, or indeed anywhere in Altara. You could find a better time in Tear, even. Still, given the Black Tower’s proximity to Caemlyn, it also felt the place where people were least likely to flinch away from channelers, if anyone caught on.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Ilya caught the ball and tossed it back. He was starting to feel a little put out. He’d been certain Johar would appreciate his idea. Or rather, he’d been certain that Jo was the only person with a slim chance of not laughing at him, but that was besides the point.

His determination crippled, the ball abruptly winked out of existence before Johar could catch it.

“You? Fun? I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ilya laughed, shaking his head. There was no real mockery in it, though. No, he supposed Jo was right. He released saidin, a vague sense of loss flooding him, and many of the globes bobbing around the pit disappeared. Jo knew how to have fun; his friend knew his way around drinks and women very well indeed. Ilya had always been the clumsier of the two. At least, that was how Ilya saw it.

“Anyway, that’s always the same sort of fun,” Ilya added. He picked up one of the orbs with tied-off flows. “Don’t you ever want to try something different?”

This time, he lightly kicked it towards Johar.

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Jo could feel the Power draining away from Ilya. Many of the balls went with it, the ones that hadn’t been tied off vanishing silently and rather anticlimactically.

Well, now he felt thoroughly in the wrong. Silly though the idea was, he supposed there wasn’t actually anything wrong with it. It was, he decided, both a symptom that Ilya could use a break and Ilya’s own strange little way of taking that break.

He booted the ball back towards Ilya. Then he reached for saidin himself, both the sudden clarity and the struggle second nature by now, and fashioned another colorful ball of light. Maybe one that was a little bouncier. These weren’t all that satisfying to kick.

“Something different?” Jo asked, his attention on the ball. He dropped it and kicked it. Too much bounce; it sailed away and vanished. Hm.

Something different like what? Jo thought drinks and women were enough, really. He couldn’t imagine what else...oh.

“Maybe not too different,” Jo said hastily. “That didn’t go so well the last time we branched out, you know.”

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

His was surprised when he sensed his friend grasp saidin, and more pleasantly so when he made his own globe of light. Ilya watched the weaves with curiosity. He tried to intercept the ball when it came for him, only to find he was too slow. Too much bounce, yes. He reached for the Power again and imitated Johar’s weave, albeit with more Earth. The orb he nudged towards Jo still felt a little too solid. Too much Earth.

Ilya frowned at Jo’s sudden hesitation. Not too different? Branched out? Had Johar finally turned against his mischievous ways? He remembered with some fondness the pranks they had often pulled on each other (and others) as Soldiers and Dedicated. Granted, he had never quite forgiven Jo for the trick with the dye, even if he’d gotten his revenge. And his block broken. The Catbrother nonsense had been worse. In hindsight, hilarious, but they’d been digging ditches by hand for weeks. (How had he been supposed to know there was no such thing? Why was it only wolves? Blood and ashes.)

“I thought we had plenty of fun,” Ilya said, brow furrowed. “I mean, I thought you were having fun. You didn’t like it?”

It did not occur to Ilya that Johar had understood something very different.

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Ilya’s latest creation rolled across the ground. Not very bouncy at all. Despite his general disinterest in this ball pit nonsense, Jo felt himself warming to the problem, if it could be called that. He’d always liked crafting things.

Hmm. What sort of things could one do with a ball-shaped ter’angreal, anyways? One designed to be a plaything? What sort of things would you want from a sports ter’angreal that simple human craftsmanship couldn’t manage? He’d have to think about it. For now, he tweaked Ilya’s weave, adding more Earth to the ball, and laughed when he stubbed his toe kicking it back. Felt as heavy as a bloody bowling ball now.

The laughter faded as Ilya pressed his point.

“Course, yeah,” Jo said, faintly pink. “Course I had fun.”

Argh. He didn’t want to hurt the daft man’s feelings.

“It just wasn’t really my sort of fun, you know?” Jo said. “You know, you might have a...coat, right, and it’s a perfectly good feastday coat, mind you, nothing wrong with it at all, but it’s also not the sort of thing you want to wear around day to day, is it? I mean to say, there’s nothing wrong with the coat just because it isn’t your style. Maybe it’s the wrong color on you, sort of thing. Just because you tried it on once, and it looked alright, don’t mean you want to go out and about in it. Not that there’s anything wrong with people who do that. Who might wear it.”

He delivered this speech hurriedly, without stopping for breath, and was slightly pink in the face by the end of it.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Ilya stopped the now heavy as a stone ball with his foot. Absentmindedly he tweaked the weaves, adding a bit of Air and Water. He gave it a kick, but instead of rolling away, his foot sank into the ball like jelly. Yeesh. He grimaced and altered the weave again. It still jiggled uncomfortably when he sent it rolling back to Jo, but at least it was properly a ball again.

Well, he understood what Jo was saying. His friend was being very kind, though he wondered that it had taken him this long to come to this conclusion. He nodded grimly.

“Well, you’re right, anyway. Now that we’re Captain-Generals, I suppose it’s not proper for us to pull pranks on each other anymore,” Ilya said. He smiled. “At least I don’t have to worry about you convincing people they’re Catbrothers.”

It was then that Ilya noticed the pinkness of Jo’s cheeks. That was odd. Why would he be blushing? There wasn’t anything to be embarrassed about, unless…

“Wait. What are you….“ Ilya started slowly, turning red as he began to understand. “I didn’t mean—I wasn’t talking about—“

A burst of laughter escaped him despite his best efforts. Hastily he added: “I mean, it was fun, but I think I would’ve liked it a lot more if you were a woman!”

Johar Salenas

[Johar Salenas]

Giving up pranks? What was Ilya talking about? The Catbrother thing had been a massively successful prank, mind you. It’d worked well enough to send Ilya crying to an old Captain-General, and Jo counted that a success. He wasn’t about to abandon that particular trick, and he had a handful of new ideas. Subtle, like, but really. He felt almost obligated to continue pranking Ilya. Who else would dare bother a Captain-General?

Before Jo could protest, Ilya latched on to his meaning. Oh, thank the light. Forty years spent as a young (or at least, young-looking) man without a steady companion was a long time in which to grow bored. That particular bored experiment, though, was not one Jo was eager to repeat.

“Well, yeah, I would’ve too,” Jo said, laughing himself. “Though, I dunno—can’t picture you as a woman, really.”

Briefly, he pictured Ilya with long hair. He shivered.

“So what were you talking about, anyways? You don’t really want to put on a fair, do you?” He eyed the wobbling ball and fiddled with it without ever touching it. When he kicked it back towards Ilya, it promptly burst into cold blue flames.

Well...alright.

Ilya Masalkar

[Ilya Masalkar]

Could he picture Jo as a woman? He inclined his head, thinking. Maybe. A scruffy, weaselly-looking one, anyway. Truthfully, though, he was rather relieved Jo was not a woman. Ilya supposed he would’ve made his way through the Black Tower one way or another, but it would’ve been a far gloomier forty years without his friend. No, Ilya thought, he preferred Jo as he was —as his best friend.

Friend and not lover, mind. Ilya had certainly tried to make himself like men. It would’ve been much more convenient, being surrounded by a tower full of them. Yet it had become abundantly clear that particular coat didn’t fit him, so to speak.

When the ball exploded into flame, Ilya blinked, startled enough to drive thoughts of his ill-fated ventures with men out of his head.

“I s’pose not,” Ilya admitted finally. “Blood and ashes, I don’t need anything else to organize. Still, I can’t think about Healing and Cloud Dancing and training all the time, or I’ll go mad. But what else is there to do?” Saidin was clean, but being a Captain-General had not become any easier. He weaved a new ball together and tried to toss it to Jo, only for it to just awkwardly drift towards him. He sighed.

“Sorry, Jo. You’ve probably got enough on your mind without my whining.”

Johar Salenas