Catthou woke up late that morning, while most of the other Soldiers were eating breakfast. Hurrying to button up his black coat, he walked through the barrack section of the Black Tower. By the time he finally did get some breakfast, the only thing left was cold porridge and stale bread. Catthou had been given worse during his early days at the Tower. It was in much better condition than it had been in the months after Kaiman’s desertion.

Channeling Fire into the porridge, Catthou sat in a shadow of the mess hall. As his teeth fought with the bread, he leaned back against the cold wall, watching Asha’man and Soldiers alike train. The sun shone brightly down on them, and a cool breeze wafted through the air. Catthou undid the top button of his coat, letting the breeze into him. The warm porridge was a fair contrast to the breeze and suited the morning well. He took his time, enjoying each bite, observing every fluid detail of the Asha’man. They seemed to be dancing with their weapons.

“You do be ready to practice, now?” The voice started Catthou out of his silent reverie by the voice of an Asha’man he knew by the name of Kal. Kal was a stout Illianer, his classic beard looking more like an overgrown mane.

“I thought today was supposed to be my day of chores, for my skipping out yesterday, Asha’man.” Catthou returned his gaze to the sunny field of Asha’man, dancing like butterflies.

“I do be a generous man, if I do speak on behalf of myself,” Kal fell into a sitting position next to Catthou. “But since you do insist on sleeping till two hours before midday, I no be too generous. Work till noon, then I do meet you here.”

Catthou’s porridge had run out, and his bread was long since dissolved in his mouth. That left him only one choice: to get to the chores. He pushed himself up, dusting off his pants. “Then I’ll see you back here at that time.” And he took off.

His first chores were the easy ones. First he had to sweep his barrack. He walked in and out in no time. Ah, Saidin, he thought, You’re such a big help. Even if you do insist on trying to kill me. Catthou dumped the air-held pile of dust and dirt in an alley between two of the barracks. It had taken longer than expected. But Catthou had been pickier than usual about it. He noticed his Asha’man watchers were nicer when he did his chores better.

Next, he had to wash his nightclothes and smallclothes. He walked to the large wash bins used for clothes. They were cleaner than he had ever seen them. Everyone must be enjoying this fabulous morning too much to want to wash clothes. But if it has to be done, then I’ll do it now. Catthou went at it with vigor.

By the time that was finished, he checked the sun. One more hour. That would leave room for only one more chore. This one made Catthou groan. But he walked to the stables anyways. Immediately he was found by a particular Asha’man. He was amazed by horses and spent most of his time here. Today he was supposed to show Catthou how to clean out their hooves and groom their manes. He knew he would struggle through this task.

It took up the hour with ease, and almost past. Catthou made a quick stop at his barrack to wash off horse-smell before meeting Kal back behind the mess hall. The sky was dull when Catthou left the stables, and by the time he made it to the mess hall it looked like some kind of burned stew.

“You do be up for the practice?” Kal asked. “Even if you no be ready, it do be practice time.” Catthou nodded and took a practice blade from Kal. The Asha’man began running towards the practice grounds and Catthou felt a drop of rain hit his head. He scowled, running as though he could escape the inevitable wetness-from-above.

Kal ran across the field, and Catthou pursued him. Catthou was almost out of breath when they reached the other side of the grounds, near the wall. Kal kept running. Catthou thought that he would run into the wall, and he opened his mouth to yell to the Asha’man. Before a word escaped his lips, a gateway opened in front of Kal, and the man disappeared through it.

Catthou tried to turn on his heel to be ready for a surprise attack, but he slipped on the already-wet grass and fell head first onto the grass, sliding a good meter before stopping. His practice blade had slid farther, and when he got up to get it, he felt the hard clap of air against the back of his knees. But this wasn’t just winds, this was the Air of Saidin. For a second he pitied himself and his inability to sense other male channelers. That vanished in a second and he seized the One Power to backlash at his attacker. A rear arc of sizzling air should keep Kal back for a few moments. Catthou scrambled to grab his wooden sword. He whirled to face Kal, sending out a small Spirit current to detect any further One Power attacks.

That small current found thousands of physical blows just waiting to land on Catthou. He bound out of the way and the tempest hit the wall behind him, causing part of it to crumble and revealing a large hole through it. Catthou hadn’t realized that he was this close, but now it seemed they were right against the wall. All the other trainers and trainees were much farther away; it was just Kal and Catthou, battling. Immediately Kal was charging him, and Catthou simply stuck out his wood sword. It caught the man right below his rib cage, knocking the breath from him. Catthou retreated a ways, then turned back to see if he had done any real damage.

He did not turn around to see if Kal was actually following. The One Power was enough to give Catthou the feeling that training was training, inside the Tower or out. He ran, hiding in the trees enough to catch a breath, then dashing to the next thicket.

So much time seemed to have passed in an instant. The Black Tower was out of sight. Kal had stopped pursuing him long before. Catthou could no longer move his legs. He sat in the dirt, leaning back against a tree. Rain dripped off the branches above and soaked him. He breathed deeply, trying to fill his lungs with air. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to figure out what to do. His body tingled in that way it did whenever Aes Sedai where around. Only no one was here but him. The next thing he knew, he was out cold.

* * * * *

Juelya Sedai of the Black Ajah stepped out from behind a tree, coming into view of the unconscious Catthou. She hated the rain, preferring the Aiel Waste to any other weather-heavy terrain. But she had to have a look at Catthou before any more things went wrong.

She never did have a chance to Delve her little creation to see how deep her modifications had settled. Her only opportunity before now to see him had been a rush, and she had done her best to cover up what relations they had.

She settled her hands around Catthou’s head, tilting it upwards to she could see his face. Four years, it had been. Her little boy had grown quite a bit. That almost brought a smile to her lips. The moment her Delving weave touched Catthou, though, her touch of a smile vanished and was replaced by a startled frown. Her original weave hadn’t been settled on properly, which meant Catthou had to have left – or taken from, as far as she knew – her outpost immediately after she had settled her permanent Compulsion on him. He would have had to be halfway out the window by the time she turned her back. How he had escaped was a mystery for another day, since there were no windows in the room he was in.

Her job here was to act, not to ponder. There were a few things to correct, a few memories to remove. First things first, she would edit a few memories of a certain escapade outside of the Black Tower. She drew up the portion of her weave affecting memories-

Her nostrils filled with the scent of fire and her eyes watered. Her mind scrambled to figure out what was going on while the hair all over her body rose to its very tips. The weave she was holding on Catthou spun out of her control, twisting in ways she only hoped would not kill him. Juelya’s hands pulled away from Catthou quickly, and she took a step back, falling in the mud. Her vision was blurry and her skin felt surprisingly hot, despite the cool rain drenching her.

Her weave had settled back down onto Catthou, compacting and hiding itself from her view. She would have gone back into Catthou to change it again, except that her hands would not stop shaking, and she was having trouble swallowing. So instead, she sat there in the mud, staring at the unconscious boy.

“Kal!” A voice rang off in the distance. “I found him!”

Juelya scrambled to her feet, doing her best to open a gateway. Her connection to the True Source felt scrambled after that little incident, but she managed it. As she stepped through her gateway, she recited a line that she desperate hoped was true. “What does not kill you…”

“…Can only make me stronger.” Catthou’s eyes opened, and he watched a gateway close in front of him. The Creator could only guess to who it was. Oddly enough, he felt refreshed.

“Kal!” He heard a voice through the rain. If Kal was still out there, then the battle was still on. Catthou jumped up, grabbing his practice blade from the ground next to him. Hearing the keeper of the voice approach, Catthou wrestled Saidin to terms and threw a gag and bindings to keep the kid silent.

That was when Catthou had to stop. He had jumped up, picking up his practice blade – using his left hand. Catthou stared down at it in amazement. It hurt only half as much as it used to, which was to say, a trolloc’s axe cutting off your arm only hurt half as much as it did cutting you off at the waist. Catthou took the blade using his other hand and examined his like-new limb. He could straighten his fingers and bear the pain, he could lift his wood sword and not notice it, but it still would not be as good as it was.

Catthou was distracted by a call and approaching feet. It must be Kal, seeing Catthou’s channeling. Catthou used a bit of air to bludgeon the other man unconscious, then released Saidin. He crept around to the other side of the copse quickly, coming up right behind the unsuspecting Asha’man. Catthou threw all of his new-found strength into a blow to the back of Kal’s knees. The man fell, a surprised scream escaping his lips. Catthou followed up with two quickly jabs to the back of Kal’s ribcage, leaving his face down in the mud. When Kal rolled over, Catthou put the tip of the wood sword to his throat. “I win.”

* * * * *

When Catthou and his companions got back to the Black Tower, a large group of Asha’man and trainees had gathered to see Catthou return. No doubt, many of them expected to see Catthou beat up and left to the crows. But that was not the case.

Kal clapped a hand on Catthou’s left shoulder, and he was reminded again that his arm was somehow miraculously healed. Kal – with the help of the One Power, as Catthou heard it to his ears – announced, “I return today with Catthou Damodred, Soldier of the Black Tower. When I began watching him, I made a promise that the day I lost a battle to him, I would give him the honor of becoming Dedicated. Today is that day.”

The crowd roared. People finally saw him as something good. He had earned Kal’s respect, the sky had returned to its sunny state, and his arm was feeling much better. But at that moment, only one thing mattered to Catthou: The silver-sword brooch at his collar.