His own silence was having an effect on the others saddling their own mounts. At first they were excited to be going outside, but now they went about their preparation as quietly as himself. Daynir fingered his collar, still wondering at the silver sword pinned there. It had not been much of a ceremony; the Asha’man called them up front at the end of a class, and pinned them on.

His was the last pin awarded, and as the Asha’man stepped back, Daynir shared the smiles of the two Soldiers...No, Dedicated now... standing at attention to his right. Havian, another Tarien, and the youngest son of a middling lord. Of a height with Daynir, he was whip thin about it, and his face could be used for an axe to cut down a tree. He was a terrible card player, and wouldn’t admit it enough to stop playing Daynir. Beyond him, Nerio preened under the attention. Altaran, he had grown up with all the action of the Ebou Dar court, always telling stories that Daynir did not completely believe.

“Dedicated. Class dismissed.” The blocks of students collapsed in on the four of them, giving mock-salutes and cracking jokes. Tomorrow, those would be real salutes and there would be no joking. Giving the shortest replies to the others, a nod, handshake, a few words, he navigated through the crowd and followed after the Asha’man.

Catching up and slowing to walk beside the Saldaean, an old campaigner of the Blight, he’d had a very grisly life and from the look on his face, the future didn’t look much better. “Asha’man Jolen, can I have a word?” Daynir continued at his nod, “I need your permission to leave the Black Tower. I have some business back home I need to take care of.”

Jolen’s face didn’t change a bit, he just kept walking. “If you think we will let you go off to show some bullyboy in town that you’re not the weak one anymore, I’ve got a mind to take that sword right back.”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tanius was a bully, but that is not why he’s going, “I want to bring my sister here, to the Tower.”

“What’s wrong with where she’s at?”

“My elder brother is forcing her to marry. I’ve wanted to go and get her since I came here. It’s no place for her.”

“The Black Tower isn’t much of a place for her, either.”

“No, I know. I thought the Aes Sedai could do something for her.”

“Tonight. Meet me at the south stables. You two coming along as well?”

It took Daynir a moment to look around and see Havian and Nerio walking close behind. “What are you two doing?”

“We knew what you were going to ask, and we want to go with you.” Havian said.

“If that’s alright with you, Asha’man.” Nerio put in politely. Ebou Dari men were polite to a fault. The stories say it’s because of the women. And Havian was quick to nod.

“We’ll see how you three do out in the real world.” With that the Asha’man continued on walking. Tonight was the night.

Daynir was the first on his horse, and he was perhaps a little too harsh in settling her friskiness. The two men followed quickly, Nerio on a hammer-nosed, bay stallion, Havian on a jet black gelding, long in the cannon, making for a fast, but short ride. Outside the stable, Asha’man Jolen sat already ahorse, slapping his reins against a glove palm.

“Let’s get this over with, you’ll be expected in class come morning.” He set a pace to the Traveling Grounds, the four of them riding silently through the last bustle before sundown.

Getting back on Wind, Daynir released the weave for the Gateway, it seemed to turn into a brilliant white line and disappear. He could not make one large enough to ride through, a fact that grated him. This one, he had set down a few hours east of their destination, just at the edge of Haddon Mirk. A fat moon sat in the cloudless sky, nearly washing out the stars with its light. A few scattered trees extended out into the vast grassland that was the heartland of Tear. There would be no one around, no one to be hurt by the razor edge of an opening Gateway, no one to see them approaching.

“This way,” Daynir kicked Wind to a ground eating trot, following the thick tree line of the tangled wood to their right. It was perhaps too fast a pace for the night, risking a broken leg for Wind and a broken neck for himself. This close, he was eager to be on with what they were about. Behind him, Havian and Nerio rode stirrup to stirrup. Asha’man Jolen fell to the back, as if shepherding them, keeping silent and for the moment letting Daynir take the lead. The somber mood that held his friends while on Tower grounds seemed to melt away in the steady breeze that made the long grasses move like waves.

“Look at him,” Nerio nudged Havian riding beside him and pointed to Daynir ahead of them, “you’d think he could see home already.” Daynir broke his intense gaze toward his home to glare back at the two. Havian ignored the look and retorted laughing, “A Fade could take his horse out from under him and he’d ride on air another mile before he realized.”

He ignored them as best he could. They considered the importance he put in this as melodramatic, and their running jokes made him grind his teeth. Finally he snapped, “Be quiet or you can go back to the Tower, I don’t need you with me for this.” That wiped the smiles from their faces.

After a time Jolen brought his horse up beside Daynir’s, looking at him without expression, as was usual. The moon made his eyes shine out of a dark, shadowy face. “Being an Asha’man is a lonely life to choose.” He pitched his voice for Daynir’s ears alone. “Most people will be afraid of what you can do, or hate you for it. Friend’s who will stand by you are a thing you are a thing to think twice about before you throw them away with harsh words. Besides, I said they could come, and I’ll decide when they will go.” With that, he turned away and returned to the back of the group.

Daynir rode on frowning to himself feeling a bit guilty for his words. Nerio and Havian were his only real friends. The only ones he’d told the whole story of his life before channeling. They did not mean to hurt with their jokes, only draw him out of his mood that always descended when his sister came up. Just as he was about to drop back to apologize, they came up on each side of him.

“I’m sorry, Daynir,” Havian said grimacing, “We know what this means to you,”

“All will be well,” Nerio slapped him on the back, “we’ll swoop in and get your sister and be back to the Tower before they know what hit them.”

He was grateful for them coming along. Daynir was not one for making friends easily. His childhood had been a lonely one, most of his time spent by himself. Hunting or just riding, he was usually surrounded by servants, but lords made no friends among their kind. Since going to the Black Tower, he’d buried himself in his training. Years of self imposed solitude had left him ill-prepared for a life where he was surrounded by men of all nationalities, from all backgrounds. “I hope it goes as smoothly as that.”

He did not think that it would. Daynir had only escaped this place but sheer luck, nearly killed by Tanius’ armsmen, and only saved when Asha’man, on a recruiting trip, felt his desperate and unknowing use of the Power and intervened. Now, Daynir knew how to use that Power, and anything his brother tried to stop them from taking Rinalia was doomed to fail. That did not mean he would not try still. The timing of their arrival, they would get to the manor at mid night, was supposed to limit this risk. Everyone would be in bed. No one to raise an alarm until it was too late.

They topped a hill and there before them was the dark shape of the manor and surrounding it the smaller forms of outbuildings and the village, silhouetted by the moon. Daynir took hold of saidin again, feeling the others do the same, and he could see the smallest detail of his night-shrouded home. All of the windows were dark and no one moved about in the shadows. Daynir pointed to the small barracks where the soldiers slept, where if luck was with them tonight, they would all be asleep. Havian knew what to do and took his horse back down the slope opposite the house and dismounted. Walking the short distance to the wall of the building, as though he had every right to be out and about at this hour, he crouched where he would not be seen from the other structures.

Daynir, Nerio, and Jolen dismounted their horses next to Havian’s. The animals were trained to stay put with no one in the saddle. Then they too walked down the hill, instead making their way to the door into the kitchen. Trying the door, Daynir found it unlocked as he’d expected. Pulling it open, he slipped inside, followed by Jolen. Nerio took his position, crouched beside the steps, cloaked in shadow. His shoulders relaxed some at this milestone. He was actually inside.

The only light emanated from a gap where a stove door had been left open a crack, casting the long tables and racks of pots and pans, knives and long spoons, in a deep red glow of coals. Weaving their way silently through the kitchen and out the swinging door into the hallway, he held his breath, thinking a sleepless servant could come down for a bit of warm goat’s milk. But, none did and they stalked safely through the musty halls away from the kitchen.

Everything was the same as when Daynir had left, the tapestries falling to dust where they hung, the floor runners spotted and worn, not taken up even now in spring. Moonlight cast beams of light lancing across their path, illuminating clouds of motes disturbed by their passage.

A flickering light spilling from a crossing hallway made Daynir put a hand out behind him to stop Jolen. Neither had said a word since entering the manor. “Her room is down there,” he whispered and jerked his head toward the light.

“Guards,” Jolen said, not in question. Daynir had told him the whole story and what they could expect. He nodded. His last letter from Rin had told him as much.

Counting down the ticks on his fingers, Daynir and Jolen jumped around the corner simultaneously. Weaving bonds of Air, they wrapped the two men sitting on either side of the door to Rin’s rooms. The men didn’t even have time to stand, let alone draw their weapons, and invisible gags filled their mouths as soon as they opened them to shout an alarm. The men writhed where they sat, eyes rolling as they realized what held them. Daynir wasted no time rushing to the door. A heavy iron lock held it secure.

“Stand aside, Dedicated,” Jolen wasted as little time shouldering him aside, weaving fine threads of Earth and Fire and sending them into the lock. Giving it a sharp wrench in his fist, it broke away with a snap.

Daynir pushed the heavy door open, whispering urgently, “Rin, it’s Daynir.” Expecting to find the small sitting room empty, they had not made enough noise to carry through the thick door, he was surprised to find her standing there. The gleam of polished steel flashed in the light from the hall, but disappeared behind her back, and when she ran to him and threw her arms around him, Daynir did not see what had caused it. Another surprise, there was a bundle, wrapped in a dress sitting on the chair. Daynir looked down into her tear-glistening eyes.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” she seemed to answer his unspoken question, “Tanius. He was going to make me marry Lord Byron. He’s old. I don’t want to marry…” She trailed off. “I’m so glad you came, Daynir.”

“It’s time we left. Best not trust to luck too far.” Jolen said gruffly. Just then, Daynir felt someone draw on saidin. Someone not Jolen, and too close to be Nerio or Havian. Instantly the hallway was engulfed in a blinding, white hot fire. Rin screamed into his chest, as Daynir threw the two of them to the side of the door. The roar of the inferno subsided, and looking carefully out, he saw that fire still licked up the walls, the stand lamps were reduced to twisted lumps on the charred floor, and of the two guards there was no sign. “You neglected to mention this,” Jolen said coolly from his place on the other side of the door. He was filled with the Power, as was, Daynir realized, himself.

“Who could it be? Not Nerio or Havian.”

“Daynir! I know it’s you. You’ve stood in my way for the last time!” The voice of Tanius, his brother, boomed throughout the house. Tanius?! How?

“Jolen, take my sister. Out the window.” Daynir commanded. The Asha’man gave him a hard look, but nodded. Rin’s arms tightened around him. “Rin, go with him. I have to end this.” He took a hold of her and extracted himself. Jolen wove Air and the window casing exploded outward.

“Let’s go, girl, this is something Daynir has to do.” Taking her by the upper arm, Jolen led her to the window, and lifted her down to the grass outside. Then they were gone, and Daynir was alone.

He breathed slowly. His blood pounded through his veins, but inside the Void he was utterly calm. “It’s just me and you Tanius. You won’t hurt Rin anymore.” His voice was hard, “You won’t hurt anyone anymore,” only a laugh answered him. Tanius was truly mad. Not from the taint on saidin which was gone, but from lust for power, and that was enough. Daynir’s sword was in his hands. He was no longer the quiet younger brother who could be pushed around.

Stepping out of the sitting room, the flames continued a long way down the hall. There, ahead of him, stood Tanius, the glow of the Power surrounding him. How he’d survived without training, Daynir did not know. A weave of pure fire lanced from Tanius’ outstretched hand. His lack of training showed in its slow coalescence. The flames shattered against Daynir’s shield, the walls between the two shattered and were gone. The ceiling above them sagged and groaned. His brother fled and Daynir pursued, slicing the weaves of Fire flung back at him with Spirit.

Chasing him through the ruined halls, Daynir saw frightened servants scattering from their rooms, screaming, knocked to the ground by gusts of air from explosions. They saw him too, in his black coat, knew the stories, and screamed all the more. If this continued, the manor would fall on their heads. Daynir ceased his attacks, ran down a crossing hallway, thinking to cut Tanius off ahead. The floor stopped bouncing beneath his feet as Tanius realized he was no longer pursued. The silence was deafening.

He did not see any more servants as he walked carefully, avoiding the ruined parts of his home. Hopefully they had all escaped safely. There was no more channeling, and he kept his draw of the Power to a minimum, not wanting to attract attention. Somewhere ahead, he felt someone holding as much Power as they could. Obviously his brother did not know that Daynir could feel him. He was near Tanius’ study now. That must be where he was hiding. Foolish. There was only one entrance. He had him trapped. Sheathing his sword, Daynir drew as much saidin as he could hold, until the pleasure of it hung on the edge of pain and death. Fire shot from his hands. Fire and Air. When he let the weave go, the path of destruction ran right out the side of the building, chunks of debris falling from above. The hills around the manor could be seen through the smoke. Tanius was gone. Daynir sighed.

His home groaned around him and he had to backtrack a few times when he ran into areas completely engulfed in flames. Daynir maintained his hold on the Power, just in case, the structure fell before he could escape. It didn’t and he stumbled down the stairs out of the kitchen, coughing. Rin was there, on her horse, and Jolen, Nerio, and Havian on theirs’. He pushed saidin away and without it he felt exhausted. “He’s dead. What happened out here?”

Havian had incapacitated the guards who’d run out half-clothed at the explosions. They had been no trouble, confused as they were. Nerio joked that the servants, that came running out of the kitchen door, saw him and probably wouldn’t stop running until they reached Cairhein. At least part of the plan went as it was supposed too.

Mounting, Daynir rode over to Rin. She had changed so much since last he saw her. Grown up, hopefully settled down, she was always a fire brand. “Are you alright?” It must have been terrifying for her, it surely was for him. His hands still shook on his reins, but she looked totally calm. She must be in shock.

Rin nodded, and gave him a smile. “I’m alright. Can we go now?”

The manor was completely in flames, windows shattering and showering glass. Jolen wove a gateway right there, tall enough for them to ride through.