A Secret Revealed

[Sorin Shirega]

Leaving the kitchens, Sorin paused just outside the doorway. He unfolded his schedule and looked over it, wishing that the unusual assignment he'd noticed earlier in the morning would have somehow disappeared. It hadn't, of course, and the words on the page were the same as when he'd first read them: After finishing with the breakfast dishes, he was to report to the quarters of the Tsorovan M'Hael. Sorin frowned down at it, then put the schedule away in his coat pocket and dragged his feet towards the stairs.

It would be a long climb from where he stood to the rooms near the top of the Tower, leaving Sorin with plenty of time to worry about what the Tsorovan M'Hael could possibly want with him. The lack of any other chores or lessons for his day suggested that whatever his reason was, it would not be something that would be over with fast. Sorin held tight to the handrail as he continued up countless flights of stairs, his mind insistent upon providing all sorts of awful ideas. The amount of time scheduled suggested that he was not going to run a few errands, or even have a lesson since those never took so long. That left him with the worst of the possibilities, the one the Soldier dreaded most.

Have I done something wrong? Sorin didn't think he had, since he tried to avoid doing anything that would draw unwanted notice from the Asha'men, but he couldn't let the thought go. Are the Captain-Generals angry with me for not taking their notes correctly? That incident had happened only last week, so Sorin supposed he could easily be heading towards a punishment for that. That seemed most likely, and wasn't something he wanted to speculate on any further. Shivering, the Soldier began to move faster. He didn't want to arrive, but he definitely didn't want to be late.

By the time he reached the door, Sorin was still shivering, and he stared at it with wide eyes. He swallowed hard, tugged the sleeves of his coat down to hide his wrists, then reluctantly raised a hand to knock on the door.

[Julian Damodred]

There was a pit in Julian’s stomach. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to help. He was worried no one would be able to help. Sorin was a very delicate case. Blocks were becoming less and less common as most of the people of the Westlands became less fearful of the One Power, so he had very little experience with them. He was grateful for the advice of men who had overcome blocks themselves, but he knew everyone was different. Despite being from the same traditions, Sorin was not Johar and what worked for one might make things even worse for the other.

Julian couldn’t plan for everything. He couldn’t control everything. As much as he hated to admit it, that is how it was, and he was just going to have to be adaptable and hope for the best.

One pivotal question had been Dena. Should she be present? Would her presence have a more negative or positive effect on skittish boy? She might smell something he missed, but she might also blurt out something better left unsaid. He decided to risk it. To hopefully mollify her effect on Sorin’s nerves, she sat apart from where the two of them would be, reading a book. That had been a bonus. He was able to keep an eye on her and see that she did her reading for once.

The other question was how direct should he be? Julian always thought the more information one had, the better decisions one would make concerning that information, but some people took information better than others when it concerned their own person. He also didn’t want to make Sorin feel too defensive, but that might be difficult to avoid. It wasn’t that the boy had done anything wrong but convincing him of that could prove challenging.

Julian answered the door himself when Sorin knocked. He spared a glance for Dena before he did so. She remained seated in the corner, her nose obediently in the book. The lack of movement in her eyes betrayed her though and he knew she hadn’t gotten much reading done after all.

“Welcome Sorin, please come in. I want you to feel comfortable here, please, no formalities, have a seat.”

Julian gestured to the armchair and sat on the adjacent sofa. He had given Sorin the armchair on purpose. Its tall back was to the wall and would hopefully help the boy feel less exposed. Unfortunately, exposing him was what they were here to do.

He didn’t want to expose him too quickly though. Instead, he had decided to go at the problem from the side. The young Tai’Seanchan’s block seemed to be hurting himself, which made a twisted sort of sense when the One Power caused nothing but self-loathing. If the One Power was tied only to pain in the boy’s mind, how could he be helped to associate it with something else? The opposite of harming was healing, and Julian hoped that seeing the powerful good the power could do, might help Sorin see it more easily in that light.

“I’ve asked you here today for a lesson in healing. I know that might seem a little advanced for a Soldier as new as you are, but trust me, my healing is not really that advanced. Dena, do you still have that papercut?”

“You know that I do.” Came a slightly waspish reply. “Your books attack me and then you act like it’s my fault, as if I am not handling them carefully enough.” She grumbled, tossing the one in her hand to the floor as she came forward, sticking her finger out at him.

Julian winced as the book made a thud, but then grinned and took her hand holding the cut finger in front of Sorin and himself.

“I’d like you to grasp the source and watch my flows please.”

He watched Sorin's hands carefully until he was holding the power. Now that he knew what to look for it was impossible to miss, but he said nothing. Instead, he reached out to Dena with strands of Air, Fire, and Spirit. Julian hadn’t been being humble when he admitted to not being a talented healer. A papercut he could manage, but not too much more than that. It haunted him that if he had been more skilled in those weaves Jadin might have survived.

His weave was strong, but a little sloppy. It did the job though, and Dena’s hand was once again unblemished. He doubted Sorin was strong enough in the Power to replicate the weaves, but it was hard to tell the strength of another man.

Dena took her hand back and looked it over before returning to her corner and picking up the book again.

“Thanks.”

Julian turned to Sorin.

“Can you try to do it with me this time? It’s ok if you can’t make the weave yet, but let’s see how it goes.”

Julian weaved the three threads together again, though not directing them at Dena this time. Instead, he let them hang in the air in front of them.

[Sorin Shirega]

When the door opened, Sorin looked nervously into the room, uncomfortable despite that he'd just been told not to be. He hurried to the indicated armchair and sat down in it, fixing his eyes on the floor. Even the floor here was different from what he was used to, reinforcing the feeling of intruding somewhere he should not be. Sorin kept his head down until the Asha'man settled on the nearby couch. He did look up once Asha'man Damodred started speaking to him, but he studied the wall across from them, keeping his eyes away from the other man.

Hearing that he'd been brought here to learn Healing made the Soldier swallow hard, glancing longingly at the door. Sorin had heard of Healing by now, but knew little more than that it was possible. He was quite sure it was far beyond the capability of someone like himself who had only recently learned to create a ball of light, despite the Asha'man's assurance that it was not. He pushed himself back farther into the chair, hands clinging to the armrests. What will he do to me when he finds out that I can't do what he's asking? A small voice in the back of his head reminded Sorin that the man had been a patient teacher in previous lessons, without so much as a harsh word for him, but the memory couldn't entirely stop Sorin from worrying.

He had to force himself to look in the Asha'man's direction once he called Dena over to demonstrate the weave. Sorin hadn't noticed her sitting in the room earlier, and her presence did nothing to help his nerves. What if I do something wrong and somehow hurt her? He wanted to believe that Asha'man Damodred wouldn't let that happen, but was far from sure of that. Pulling his hands into his lap, Sorin turned his body in the chair, attempting to hide his hands behind its arm. Asha'man Damodred and Dena were standing closer to him than his teachers usually did, and he didn't want either of them to notice what he had to do.

He scraped his nails down his arm and reached out for saidin, watching as closely as he could. The Healing weave was easier for Sorin to follow than he had expected it would be, but clearly more complex than anything he'd ever been asked to try before. He leaned forward as it began to fade, surprised to see that not even a scar remained on Dena's hand. Sorin sat back against the chair's back again once Dena left and the Asha'man's attention turned to him.

“Can you try to do it with me this time?"

Sorin nodded, staring at the weave that hung in the air before him. His eyes traced the twists and turns of it, unsure where to start. For a moment, the Soldier just looked at it, then dug his nails into his skin again and forced himself to begin trying. Sorin had expected it to be nearly impossible, but the weave made a strange sort of sense to him, easy to follow despite the complexity of it. He could see how it was done, but recreating it himself proved harder. His strands of Air, Fire and Spirit were thinner, his weaving looser, and the concentration required caused his first attempt to fall apart when he focused too hard on what he was doing, forgetting to scratch at his arms. A few more similar failures followed that one, each a little closer to completion as he grew more familiar with the weave.

By the fifth attempt or so, Sorin was working just a little faster, one hand hidden inside the opposite sleeve. The weave he created was still thin and pale, and the Soldier doubted it would actually do what it should, but it looked reasonably close to the example. He placed the last threads of Fire, then sat still, staring at what he'd just made, hardly daring to believe he'd actually finished the weave.He even managed a fleeting moment of shy pride before remembering that he had no right to that emotion, especially not from channeling the One Power. Wincing, Sorin looked down, away from his creation.

[Dena n’am Damodred]

Sure her paper cut was gone, but Dena was still catching her breath. She felt like she had been hit by a tree branch the wind had gone out of her so fast. It was like hitting a nail on the head with a smithy hammer, getting healed by Julian. It had been all she could do to get out that thanks and take her seat without letting on how he had shaken her. Also, she could feel her stomach begin to growl.

An apple suddenly covered the page of her open book on her lap and she smiled. She would have preferred meat to fruit, but liked that Julian wasn't completely ignoring her needs anymore lately. He was still seated and it had landed softly, so she assumed he had used the power to move it from the bowl on the table to her lap. She wished she could see what they were doing. To her it looked like they were staring into space and barely saying a word.

She brought the green orb to her mouth and it gave a satisfying crunch when she bit into it. The noise reminded her where she had promised to keep her nose and where she should keep it out of, mainly their business. Except not literally, because she was supposed to smell for any issues. She ducked her head down and continued to pretend to read, but nothing would stop her from listening.

"That was amazing Sorin!"

She glanced up as Julian exclaimed, eyes shining with excitement.

"I could never have done what you did when I was just a soldier. I mean, I had the brute strength to use all three threads, but not the dexterity to learn how to weave them correctly so quickly. I thought maybe we'd give it a go and then talk theory while you caught your breath. You're a natural! How do you feel? Could you manage it again?"

Brute strength was accurate. She was never complaining about a paper cut to him again. Interesting about Sorin though, Julian felt genuinely excited through the bond. Whatever the younger man had done, he must have done it much better than expected.

[Sorin Shirega]

"That was amazing Sorin!"

The excitement in the Asha'man's voice was quite possibly the very last response the Soldier had expected. Surprise startled Sorin into immediately letting go of both the weave and saidin itself. He flinched as the weave began to fade away, his heart pounding as he wondered what the complicated thing would do. But like countless other failed attempts at weaves over the year he'd been here, it did nothing except continue to disappear. He blinked at it once as the meaning behind Asha'man Damodred's words began to sink in. Without meaning to, the Tai'Seanchan man then made what he considered to be a dreadful mistake. Sorin turned his head and looked up, huge green eyes meeting grey ones for about two seconds before he realized what he'd done.

He let out a horrified gasp before abruptly looking away. Turning sideways in the chair, Sorin buried his face in the cushioned back and huddled there, shaking. Without really hearing the words, he fearfully waited for the Asha'man's tone to change from what surely couldn't be praise to anger. Instead, everything the man said sounded pleased and encouraging, something that Sorin couldn't really understand. I just did what he told me.....isn't that what he wanted? The question would go unanswered, as he didn't dare ask.

Sorin didn't move and hardly breathed until he heard the Asha'man's voice asking questions. Questions, he knew, had to be answered, and these he could at least comprehend. He picked his head up, but didn't feel brave enough to turn back around and look at the man again. Leaning against the back of the armchair, as tired as if he'd spent the morning cleaning stalls, Sorin hardly felt capable of trying the weave again, but he knew very well that only one response was acceptable.

"I don't know if I can do it again," Sorin mumbled. He hadn't expected to be able to do it at all, and doubted he'd be so lucky twice. The wounds on his arms still ached, making him dread the thought of any further attempts. "But....I'll try, if that's what you want." Wincing at the thought of it, Sorin peeled the fabric of his sleeve off of one of his wounds, where it had stuck to a bead of blood. It stung, but if he had to try channeling again....he was going to need that pain.

[Varian Mathayas]

Varian laid out upon the silk sheets on a bed with his right arm tucked underneath the pillow his head currently rested upon. The fingers of his left hand trailed along his beautiful companion’s abdomen as a smile spread on his face. She was perched on her side beside him, her fingers exploring a few of his old scars that were never healed appropriately and inquiring upon how he received them. He answered each one honestly as he affectionately watched every movement she made. The last scar his auburn-haired lover playfully questioned him upon were four scratch marks along his ribs made by her nails only three days before. A smirk spread across his face as he replied honestly to that inquiry as well before he leaned up and kissed her. Varian took hold of her supple form and rolled her over his body until he was on top. The pair exchanged more kisses and a few moans of ecstasy before she pulled away.

“Alorin will be here soon.” She stated. He hmphed softly at the statement as he nuzzled his nose along her neck while simultaneously squeezing her upper thigh, “He doesn’t love you as I do, Nycovia.”

A smile spread on her face just before she kissed him once again, “Yes, but he is my husband after all.” Varian exasperatedly sighed as he rolled off of her and onto his back once more. He was no longer in the mood to continue their romp between the sheets. He placed his right arm behind his head again as she gazed pleadingly at him, “Don’t be like that.” This time Nycovia rolled over on top of Varian to reengage their affectionate display. But just as she covered his neck and chest in nips and kisses, the pair heard the front door open. They both shot up to a sitting position with their eyes wide open as Nycovia uttered in shock, “Burn me! That bloody ox of a thimble-brained man is home early!”

Nycovia and Varian briefly exchanged looks before they both bolted from the bed and hastily began pulling their clothes back on, which were scattered about the room. As the man tugged his trousers back on, he rushed to the bedroom door to check if the hallway was clear. But Nycovia, a former Aes Sedai of the Blue Ajah, immediately interjected, “No, don’t go that way. He’ll see you!” Varian quietly shut the door again behind him as he looked to his lover in a panicked plea.

“Please tell me there’s another way out.”

“The window.” She answered. Pulling her dress back on around her shoulders, she began to fasten the buttons. Meanwhile, Alorin could be heard in the foyer inquiring upon his wife’s location to the maid. Time was running out. Varian took his shirt from the back of a chair as he rushed over to the window. But as he opened it up to gauge the drop, he wasn’t too keen on jumping or for it serving as his exit route.

“Have you seen how far down that is?!” Varian remarked as he pointed out the window while gazing at Nycovia as if she were mad to suggest it. “No, that’s not going to work.” As he started to pull his shirt over his head, he frantically began to think of an alternative to jumping out the window, “I’ll… I’ll simply tell Alorin that I had a good reason for being here.”

“In our bedroom?!” Nycovia exclaimed. She started fixing the sheets upon the bed as Varian explained his plan. “You thought you saw a rat and screamed.” He started, pulling his suspenders back up onto his shoulders, “I was passing by, and since he and I are old friends, I ran in to help.” He grinned at her as if it was not only a perfectly reasonable explanation but a believable one at that, “Easy!” Nycovia shook her head no; she knew that her husband would never buy into such an unbelievable tale.

He sat down in the chair to put on his boots while Nycovia finished tidying the bed. Once it was presentable, she collected his Asha’man coat from off the floor and ran it over to him. As she shoved the item into his arms, she kissed him one last time, then stated, “If you love me, you’ll jump.”

Unenthusiastically Varian replied, “Right.” Before grunting as he glanced once more out the window. He eventually resigned himself to do as she asked. Just as he was about to leap, he spotted his sword, belt, and scabbard still sitting on the table, “My sword.” While Nycovia darted across the room to fetch the items, Varian looked once more out the window as he pulled on his coat and sighed, mentally trying to prepare himself for the drop he was about to make.

“Please go now!” insisted Nycovia, as she handed Varian the last of his things. He gave her a wink, then tossed his weapon and belt to the ground before climbing out the window. Just as he grasped the ledge of the sill to dangle from it, he could hear Nycovia greet her husband from above.

“Alorin, how wonderful to see you home so early!” She perkily remarked as he’d entered the room. Varian could hear her flit across the room and kiss her husband while he desperately struggled to hang from the window. “It’s a bit chilly in here, my dear.” Stated Alorin. Who was undoubtedly perplexed as to why his wife had the window open on such a cold morning. “Is it?! I was feeling warm.” Dismissed Nycovia. Varian froze silently against the wall as he heard Alorin close the window above him. Still, from assessing the muffled volume and tone of the conversation from inside, it seemed that he’d successfully slipped out in time without his old comrade knowing he’d ever been there.

As Varian attempted to work up the courage to drop to the ground, he could hear chuckling coming from the street below. He turned to see who the laughter was originating from, only to be confronted by two of his Air Asha’man brothers walking up the road. Varian rolled his eyes as he sarcastically laughed along with the men. After all, he no doubt looked ridiculous from their point of view as he hung there like an idiot. So finally, he mustered up the guts to release the sill. Although his knees ached from the abrupt landing, Varian was grateful to have the ground firmly under his feet once more.

“Come along Rhion, Tsorovan’m’hael Damodred has requested your audience.”

Although he couldn’t be confident as to what Julian wanted to see him for, Varian hoped it pertained to his request for Julian to back him in becoming M’Hael. Jadin’s death had created an absence of power as well as suspicion, chaos, and further decay of the Black Tower’s reputation. Varian longed to mend the wounds caused by the loss of his friend and a good man. Yet the only solution he could arise to in solving these problems was by taking command of the Tower himself. Varian took one last glance at Nycovia’s bedroom window in contemplation. If he wanted the votes of the War Council, then it was perhaps time he ended his affair with Nycovia. Their relationship stood to hurt his chances in the election, considering Alorin was once an Asha’man himself. He decided to return tomorrow to conclude the matter properly before following his brothers back to the Black Tower.

Upon entering Julian’s office, Varian received a warm greeting with a hug, and for several minutes the two caught up on what they’d been up to since last they saw one another. Despite Julian’s attempt to mask it, Varian could see the pain that still resided in the man’s eyes over the loss of his friend. Varian felt deeply for him, as he too missed Jadin, but no amount of beautifully laced together words was going to take away any of the stings off that depth of anguish. Still, Varian tried his best and strung together a lovely saying about how people never indeed leave you, so long as you remember them. Afterward, the pair shared a few stories of different hilarious interactions they’d had with Jadin, and soon the room filled with their laughter. But eventually, Julian covered the reason for their meeting, and they got down to business. Yesterday he had been helping a soldier by the name of Sorin Shirega. Unfortunately, the boy had a block that needed breaking, but today, a critical matter required his attention. So, in his stead, he was assigning Varian with the task. Although disappointed their business didn’t pertain to his desire to become M’Hael, the Air Captain agreed. It had been a long time since he’d trained a Soldier in the One Power, and so the idea thrilled him a bit.

Varian headed out to the training yard with a description of the boy. As usual, the yard was filled with Soldiers, Dedicated, and Asha’man alike practicing their skills. He beamed at the sight as he recalled when male channelers were scarce and perishing from the madness channeling caused. Varian had seen so many men fall when he’d joined that the images still haunted him to this day. But now, he could be proud of the filled space of men who could channel without fear. That would be his goal with Sorin: Help the boy channel without fear. It was no easy feat, to be sure, but so long as the kid was determined, Varian would see that he got there in the end. So as he spotted a youth fitting Julian’s description, he smiled even brighter. The lad was already waiting for him at an open ring, although he was a bit fidgety, and there was a touch of sweat on his brow as Varian approached him. Sorin continuously switched between his feet, so much so that Varian half expected him to bolt. Julian indeed failed to mention the unease of his student. The Captain grunted. He’d have to address the matter with him later. But first, he’d have to be extra careful on how he approached this kid.

“Ah, you must be Sorin. I respect a prompt man.” Remarked Varian in a warm, friendly tone before continuing, “What a pleasure it is to meet you. The name’s Varian. Julian informs me that you made some impressive headway the other day. So let’s see what you’ve got, and then we’ll go from there.”

He gestures for Kenean, one of the Air Asha’man that laughed at him earlier, to come over with a smirk planted across his face. Then, without warning, he used one of his daggers to cut the middle of the man’s hand. Kenean flinched before glaring at Varian, but he ignored the man’s expression as he drew upon the source. He felt the Power surge through him as he created threads of water, air, fire, and spirit, then funneled them into Kenean’s hand until the wound was healed completely. He then proceeded to cut Kenean’s hand again before turning to Sorin.

“It’s your turn now. I don’t expect a perfect replication, but I want you to focus on your intent. To say to yourself that you want to heal Kenean’s wound. Let everything else fall away, tuning in solely on helping this man. And remember that you are capable of doing this, Sorin. Believe in yourself, and you will be surprised by the results.”

(For this post, Rhion shall serve as the WoT version of Romeo from Romeo and Juliet.)

[Sorin Shirega]

Sorin looked down at the ground as he shifted from foot to foot while waiting in the training yard. This place filled with people would have made him uncomfortable even if they hadn't all been channelers. Since they were....this was quite possibly the location within the Black Tower that scared him most, and as he waited, Sorin fervently wished that he could just run, both from the Black Tower and from saidin itself.

The Tai'Seanchan man didn't look up, even when the unfamiliar Asha'man approached him for the start of his lesson. Sorin dreaded the prospect of trying to learn from this total stranger. While Asha'man Damodred scared him, the fear of him was at least familiar. This man, Asha'man Varian, was someone Sorin had never met, and the Soldier didn't know what to expect from him. He trembled before the Asha'man, even as he tried to pay attention to the man's words.

He had lifted his head when the Asha'man had started speaking to him, keeping his eyes focused forward and well away from the other man's face, so Sorin did not miss the moment when Asha'man Varian grabbed hold of another Asha'man's hand and slashed it open. Sorin gasped audibly and very nearly fled, searching the area around him frantically for an escape, but there was nowhere for him to run. Trapped, he stumbled backwards a few steps and squeezed his eyes shut, absolutely certain that the injured man was about to retaliate with the One Power.

Seconds passed before Sorin dared to open his eyes, mostly out of confusion. Why didn't the pain make him channel? he wondered, though the past year had taught him what the answer had to be. There was something wrong with him, and Sorin feared there was nothing he could do about it. He tried to distract himself from that knowledge by watching the Asha'man channel, the weave he'd learned yesterday that could take away wounds as if they'd never been.

A small part of Sorin was intrigued by the thought that the One Power inside him could be put to a use like this to help others, but that small hope was quickly smothered by disgust with himself. The One Power was dangerous, a weapon. Haven't you already proven that?

He winced, but when Asha'man Varian cut the other man's hand again and instructed him to try the weave, Sorin did as he was told. He still wondered why the other Asha'man just stood there and allowed it, but since he had....Sorin did want to Heal it, even though he very much doubted that he could.

He turned slightly away from the other two men as he stabbed his nails into his skin, reopening wounds that were still raw from the previous day's lesson. The pain he inflicted on himself made Sorin hiss and hope the Asha'men hadn't heard him. Remembering what he'd done yesterday with threads of Air, Fire and Spirit, Sorin slowly began to form the weave he'd just seen repeated. It took him much longer to create than the Asha'man had needed, but despite the complexity of it, it didn't seem that difficult to him.

When Sorin finished, he held his breath and let the weave go, watching it sink into the other man's skin. The Tai'Seanchan man blinked in surprise as he witnessed the edges of the wound sealing themselves together. I did that? It didn't seem like the terrible weapon he'd been warned about all his life...and Sorin knew that was a dangerous way to think. He turned his head abruptly away from what he'd done, not entirely sure how he felt about it, or how he was supposed to feel. He tugged at his coat sleeves, making sure to hide the wounds that were now seeping blood, and wished he wasn't sure that he'd soon be told to repeat the weave again.