“Achoo!” She sniffled and replaced her lavender handkerchief back into the pocket sewn inside her wool cloak though she knew it would not be long before she needed it again. The libraries were not drafty, not exactly, but their sheer size made it difficult at best to warm every corner and alcove. So, Lilliah wore her warmest white cloak and pulled it ever tighter around her with one hand while the other propped a book in her lap. It was another large and toilsome work by a woman long deceased and likely forgotten, but her steady flowing tone made the heavy history of Maredo seem a fantastical adventure compared to most accounts of the faded land’s past.

The sun was struggling to hold its height in the sky, barely managing to glitter its way through open slots on the tall shelves and the huddled novice could only just make out the titles of the nearest books. The bells would toll for supper soon and, though she no longer made a habit of it, Lilliah did not flinch at the thought of being late. She had walked into the dining hall mere minutes before it cleared out of an occasion and missed meals altogether sometimes. This absorbed in reading, food had little hope of stirring her interest enough to move the tall young woman from the large chair she occupied.

One of the librarians stopped by with a smile and lighthearted inquiries of how the novice’s studies were progressing and whether or not she had chores to be about. Lilliah assured the Brown sister, Jilire Sedai a hard muscled Saldaean, that she had finished all of her day’s tasks and was it not okay if she remained only a while longer? The smooth-faced woman nodded with a hint of excitement in her eyes and took up a perch on the edge of the seat, looking proper and regal despite the smear of ink across one hip where she had likely absentmindedly wiped the nib of a pen. Unperturbed, the quiet girl resumed her reading. She gratefully accepted the occasional interjection from the Brown about an incorrect or incomplete note as she made them in the other book balanced precariously on her knee with only an ink bottle to weigh it in place.

The Aes Sedai did not stay long and left with assurances that she would find that book on the fall of Kintara that Lilliah simply must read and a reminder that the girl should get her self off to eat. It was something Lilliah was used to, the attention and petting. All of the time she spent in the libraries, particularly this the third depository, had convinced the sisters of the Brown that she was a sure candidate for their ranks. Many would take the time from their own studies to lend a friendly hand or recommend a new read for the girl who devoured every book on history that was put in her path. Lilliah was no longer so sure that they were recruiting a lost cause. She did love her books and nothing pleased her more than to read the day away. Oh, the thought of being confined to the Tower in a study full of old bits and scraps of destroyed tomes made the young woman quite ill, but some one had to do the searching for those bits and scraps. It was a line of thinking that entered her thoughts more and more often as of late.

After a time, the lamps had been lit and the sun was well past the horizon, Lilliah’s eyes caught the swing of fringe in the corner of her vision. She looked up, only slightly startled so that a soft touch stopped the tottering of her shaky inkwell. A stately sister whom she knew better than any novice had the desire to stood silently before her. Mistress of Novices, Jade Sedai would be a formidable woman in her bathrobe amidst a fist of trollocs, but standing before a novice in the long fringed shawl of the Yellow Ajah with large eyes that saw every detail you wanted to hide and those you didn’t even know existed, the woman was the embodiment of everything a novice feared. Lilliah recalled with a sick feeling in her stomach her first meeting with the woman and as a reflex begun that day she climbed to her feet carefully setting aside her things before making a properly deep curtsy. The woman remained silent for long enough that the young Illianer finally looked up and met the smaller woman’s eyes with her own honey colored ones. There was a sure feeling of being assessed in that gaze, as if behind those dark bold lashes there were scales weighing the girl’s worth and value, measuring her against the vaulted standards of the Tower she served. Lilliah itched beneath that stare.

“Aes Sedai, my apologies, I did no realize the time. I will be off immediately, Jade Sedai.” Mistress’s of Novices were always murder on girls who were out of their beds after Last. However they would have no qualms about taking the slipper to an initiate for a misdeed they did not want their charges to have a moment less sleep than could be helped. Lilliah began gathering her things but the smooth voice of the woman before her halted her efforts.

“Leave those, they will be seen to. Come with me, child.” Before the words had even reached the tall girl’s ears the Yellow was walking away. There was no emotion to those words; none of the heat the sister would normally have for a lazy or forgetful novice, none of the icy hardness toward a day-dreamy, lounging girl in white. She was completely flat and that scared Lilliah.

“Yes, Aes Sedai.” Without hesitation her hurried steps made up the ground the little woman had already covered and she fell in just a hair behind. The walk continued in silence, taking sharp turns and descents through short stairwells that led into ever darker and sconce-lit halls. Here the tiles did not shimmer with the glow and sheen of dozens of novices on their knees scrubbing. There were no bright tapestries or niches with Seafolk porcelain. It soon dawned on Lilliah that there could only be one place the Aes Sedai was leading her. She stopped.

“Jade Sedai, I...”

“The hour waits on no woman, child.”

The Yellow sister had not stopped nor had she turned, again Lilliah took long strides to again walk at her side. The shadows flickering in the dim light cast darkly fickle creatures across the broad corridor; here a clawing bear, there a skulking wolf. The young woman knew, to her shame, that her shivers were not all from the dank cold. But before they had gone another ten paces the Mistress stopped beside a pair of tall, ominous doors and the warm glow that poured out from behind them granted a hint of safety. Jade Sedai turned around. Lilliah held her breath and though a kind look briefly flashed through the Aes Sedai’s eyes there was what the girl thought might be a touch of wariness, if any Aes Sedai could be said to be wary. Jade reached out a hand to lay it on the young woman’s shoulder and spoke in strong ceremonious tones,

“These two things no woman hears before she comes to this place. The first: once you begin you must continue to the end. To refuse to go on, to balk is to fail and you will sent away from the Tower You may refuse to go through this door twice. Decline a third time and it will be as if you turned back after entering; you will be sent back to Illian and the life you left behind. If you wish to turn back now you may do so and you will still have two more chances. What do you chose?”

“I do chose to go on, Aes Sedai,” the words sounded clearer than the young woman thought they should. Her throat was tight enough that a squeak was all that should have escaped and the ill feelings she had before were rampaging through her middle and though she wanted to huddle in a ball and whimper the proud girl stood tall. The sister merely nodded as if she expected no other answer and would have words for any who chose to back down.

“That is well, child. The second thing is that to seek, to strive is to know danger. Here you will know danger. Some women have passed through these doors and not come out again. When the ter’angreal was allowed to grow silent they simply were not there.”

Lilliah swallowed hard and nodded slowly not trusting herself to speak. She wanted to ask Jade Sedai where those women went, what kind of ter’angreal could make a woman disappear, were they killed? But she had no time even if she could make her voice work. Jade opened the door.

As quickly as she could Lilliah scanned the room, her eyes taking in all she could in the seconds she had before Jade hustled her beyond the swing of the doors. Astra Sedai was an ivory statue off to the left her eyes boring beneath the girl’s skin looking for the imperfections she hid there. After knowing the woman for 15 of her near 23 years it was a familiar and almost comforting feeling. Nefertariamun sat with her legs folded beside the closest shining arch and tears sprang to the sentimental child’s eyes in appreciation of the tiny woman’s presence. Two others she did not recognize sat the other joinings of the ter’angreal. The enormous thing in itself was enough to have her staring for hours but she did not have time for that either. Astra Sedai spoke,

“Whom do you bring with you, Sister?”

“One who comes as a candidate for Acceptance, Sister,” Jade answered, her voice ringing through the chamber.

“Is she ready?”

“She is ready to leave behind what she was, and, passing through her fears, gain Acceptance.” Lilliah gave a start at that. She knew it was all part of the ceremony and that sisters could not lie. But she also knew beyond a certainty that she would never leave behind who she was. Never. The sisters went on.

“Does she know her fears?”

“She has never faced them, but is now willing.”

Astra Sedai nodded and gestured toward the ter’angreal which now gave off the faintest whisper of a hum, “Then let her face her fears.”

At a meaningful gesture from Jade Sedai she unfastened the pin of her cloak and began to undo her buttons with deft fingers, a task she had not been accustomed to doing when she arrived here almost six years ago. When she stood bare of her clothes she finally slipped her feet from their white slippers and felt the icy shock of the frigid tiles run through her legs. The temperature of the room was not unbearable but those tiles were unforgiving as a winter night in Shienar and goose pimples covered every inch of her skin within seconds. Thankfully Jade Sedai wasted no time hurrying her to stand beside where the dark Blue sister sat, eyes closed wrapped in the Power.

“The first time is for what was. The way back will come but once, be steadfast.” Lilliah stepped over the threshold.

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

“Child, come away from the bank, you’re like to slip from that beast and take a plunge.” Lilliah spun in her saddle. She had to peer against the sun until she could make out the outline of her hard-faced tutor. It was Astra was it not? Scattered thoughts crossed her mind of the smooth cheeked woman in an unflattering shawl of white with swinging brown fringe that hung to her knees. But Astra always wore the same plain cut dresses of varying dark shades and no one in Illian had need of a shawl this time of year. It left the little girl’s mind as a fleeting fancy and little she was. The mare she sat on dwarfed her considerably and her tiny legs barely reached the stirrups. Chestnut. That was her name, of course it was. Chestnut pranced about and turned facing the bank again then lifted her head to nuzzle against her rider’s cheek as if to show the strict woman just how “beastly” she was. A sweet laugh resounded across the clearing and Marea reigned in at Lilliah’s side. “Oh, Astra, Chestnut do be just as gentle as a cloud! And Lilliah does be a fine little rider. Though she does have that country born advantage.” The slender girl reached out to ruffle her cousin’s light hair and smiled warmly to show she meant no insult, though the little one could never find hurt in Marea’s jests.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

The hazy words tickled something familiar tucked away in the recesses of the young girl’s mind, but she dismissed them as an effect of the day’s heat. Astra sniffed, “Child, even soft fluffy clouds can strike you with a bolt of lightening. Come now the others are near a mile ahead and midday meal is waiting on us.” The stern woman rode on ahead and over the rise. The girls shared a look of commiseration. Astra never called them anything but Child and she was ever suspicious of even the tamest of horses. But they had lagged quite a bit. Lilliah’s own fault really. She had wanted to stop and pick flowers for Uncle Deagan and the prettiest shade of lilac only grew at the edge of the forest some half a mile from the bank. Marea indulged her of course. It was the child’s tenth name day, but Marea would have let her do as she pleased if it were any other day of the year besides. “Come little one,” the much older girl taunted, “you do be a fine little rider but I bet you a sweetcake I do reach Astra before you.” Lilliah giggled and booted her horse to a sprint before her cousin could say go.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Casually batting down the voice she could almost place, Lilliah leaned into the rush of the ride. She felt the wind combing through her loose hair and smiled with elation against Chestnut’s mane. Behind her there was a soft rumbling and suddenly the world moved as if under water. Marea’s gelding was sliding down the bank struggling for footing and screaming in pain. Lilliah heard a shriek and realized to her horror that it was her own. She leapt from Chestnut and to the edge of the crumbled shore as her cousin slipped beneath the foaming ripples, thrown from the now wild horse. Agonizing moments passed before the young girl caught sight of Marea only a few paces down the river clinging tightly to a jutting slab of rock. As she scrambled along the mud and rocks calling out for Astra to come save her cousin, Lilliah caught sight of a white glowing arch.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

The words came to her now as if pleading, the urgency palpable, and the arch called to her as strongly as Marea did. She was screaming now, pleading for Lilliah’s help, yelling that she was slipping. “Lilliah!” Pain worse than any she had known engulfed her but she was afraid to move, afraid to step away from where she stood as if she knew something dreadful would come of it. She stood at the edge of the arch and added her voice to Marea’s. At the top of her lungs she bellowed for Astra, for anyone to come, to do what she could not make herself do. But no one came and the arch pulsed with a certain desperation. From where she stood Lilliah saw her lovely cousin’s fingers claw frantically for a hold they could not find. With a last agonized cry the little girl wailed and flung herself away from her grief, away from the river bank through the glowing opening.....

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

.....and onto her knees. Water washed over her head blending with her tears and she could hear Jade Sedai’s voice, “You are washed cle...”

“Where were you?!” Lilliah shrieked and pointed accusingly at Astra Sedai and interrupting the Mistress of Novices. “We did need you and you did be gone! I did leave her and she did drown! I did leave her...” she was a whimpering mess by the time her lungs ran out of air and she could only hiccup back her sobs. She felt strong hands beneath her arms and tried to fend them off to no avail.

“Child, to stop now is to be put out. You must go on.” That was Astra.

Jade began again without wavering her strong, clear tone, “You are washed clean of any sins you have committed and those committed against you. You return to us clean of heart and soul.” Lilliah certainly did not feel clean.

They practically carried her to the next arch but she managed her own feet and nodded to Jade Sedai that she would continue.

“This time is for what is. The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.”

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

“My Lady, the High Lords Marcanos, Gernalo, sal’Borae and Daerom are waiting in the large sitting room. I have taken the liberty of having wine and tea sent for.” The small balding man bowed with a practiced ease and stood awaiting her approval. Lilliah merely gazed in the mirror at her reflection and the silver coronet that clashed so terribly with her honey hued hair. The blue silk of her dress was fine and the seed pearls that picked out cresting waves along the hems and sleeves were of the most pure creamy color, but it felt wrong. She should still be in mourning whites. Her uncle not three months in the grave, what would be though of her, his heir in her best silks and not a tear in her eyes. She knew how important appearances were but there was something about wearing white again that she could not stomach for long.

“Thank you, Armen. I supposed we had best get this done with.” He merely nodded and held the door open for her and she passed him out into the small hallway that ran behind her four sitting rooms. When she stopped beside the right set of glass paneled doors her elderly steward opened them grandly and stepped through with a surprising swiftness. She followed at a more leisurely pace and offered a weak smile and a gesture that the four men sit. Armen has arranged the chairs so that she would be able to see them all at the same time while they would have a difficult time peering at one another. Lilliah made a mental note to increase the sweet old man’s pension.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

The grand Lady flinched at the cryptic message echoing through her mind. Hearing voices was never a good sign though she had never before heard of that affliction manifesting itself in a woman. Worse it was a voice she almost imagined she could place. But this was not the time nor the place to be worrying over one’s sanity and the hard-faced men standing beside a ring of chairs before her did well enough to push the disquieting thoughts from the woman’s mind. She gathered herself inwardly and approached with an air of heavy eyed disinterest. “This gathering did be at your request gentlemen so do speak your minds I do be sure that we all have other, more pressing things planned for our days.” If she sounded irritated let them think her so, they had demanded a meeting with her only this morning and they should know she was still grieving her loss.

The youngest of the delegation, Marcanos, took his seat rather ungracefully and, throwing a leg over the side of the chair, signaled Armen to bring him a glass of wine. The whole time his eyes did not leave the Lady’s face; studying her as if she were a strange machine whose function and stability he could not be sure of. The others were more circumspect in their observances, stealing furtive glances under the guise of smoothing coats and brushing away specs of unseen dust. No one spoke. After agonizingly long moments in the deafening silence Armen scurried back to break the stuffy tension handing Lilliah a silver worked cup of cool wine. As he made his way to each Lord the Lady of the house took a lengthy, shallow sip and peered at each over the edge of the cup not making any effort to disguise her open appraisal. The Lord Daerom, most senior and therefore highest ranking of the group was the first to break the quiet,

“My High Lady, we do all offer condolences for your great loss and house Daerom do feel the loss of the Lord del’Darwae with heavy hearts.”

Gernalo and sal’Borae were quick to add their sympathy soaked voices. Lilliah almost sighed but instead murmured her thanks for the kind words. This sort of grandiose dissembling could go on for hours giving Uncle Deagan the credit in his death that would never have been uttered while he still drew breath. And, though she should not, Lilliah sought to put a swift end to it. “As you did say, Lord Daerom, I have just suffered a loss and would like to return to my grieving, if all you four did come here for did be to grant your condolences, I do think I did hear a sufficient lot all at the services last week.” She knew that was not the reason for their extemporary visit but without a push these men could drone on for hours. Lilliah was half risen from her seat to leave when Lord Marcanos, who had been silent until now, spoke. “We did be wondering why you did return and who do be pulling your strings after so long from home.”

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Years of memories in the Tower came unbidden to the forefront of her mind. Days spent scrubbing and reading, dusting and studying. Memories of a letter that told of the tragedy in Illian and bid her home; of walking through heavy doors in a dimly lit corridor and shamefully refusing to go on so she could be sent away to do her duty. But some of those memories were fuzzy as if she only knew the events because someone had told her how they had come about, not at all her own recollection. Silly really, whose memories would they be other wise? That voice fit in there somewhere too, and at the same time it did not as if it were a dim and cloudy reflection of a dream. The other three were glaring daggers at the young lord but none said a word, their agreement with his blunt accusation as plain in the silence as it would have been had they given it voice.

“I see,” was all Lilliah offered. The meaning of those words, both hidden and open, stung her deeply. Ilan Marcanos had once been like a brother to her. He was to be a cousin in truth through marriage, and he had always had a pocket full of sweets and warm, welcoming hugs for the child that always tagged along. He was much older now and there was nothing resembling warmth in that face, his eyes were stone cold and they studied her as one would a filthy dog foaming at the mouth. Ilan no longer saw the quiet scamp he rode about on his back of an afternoon. No, all he saw was a strange woman who’s loyalties might lie with those he reviled most.

“No, I do no think you do see, my Lady,” he practically spat. “I do no know where you do get your nerve but I could guess. You did leave this country and your titles to go to that Light forsaken city and now that Deagan is dead and his heirs along with him you do suddenly claim the right to High Seat of del’Darwae. These gilded roosters seem to think you do be worthy of it and perhaps more, but I am no where near convinced. So that do be why I came, to see if there do be any chance that you might be worthy.”

The others chimed in with reserved requests that she forgive the impetuous young man his prejudices and, atop that, their unembellished assurances that they indeed knew her worth. They backed her right to the High Seat, though in truth none of their opinions mattered a fig. Lilliah had the unwavering support of her house and that was all that made a difference to her. But Ilan had hinted at “more” and more could only mean one thing for Illian had no Queens. She addressed the Lord Daerom,

“Do you no wish a place for yourself in the Council, my Lord?”

If they were taken aback by her deftness in getting to the heart of their visit it was only shown by a brushing of coat sleeves and a higher pitch that usual to Daerom’s laugh. Ilan merely rose to refill his cup, waving Armen back to the corner where he had been standing. “Oh, I do be too old and my mind does be turning slow these days,” the eldest of the men said through his chuckle. More like house Daerom does no have the support it once did, the olive skinned woman speculated, Nor do the other two if they do be here to weigh my fitness. Noble men do cease to desire power only when they do be dead and even then they may still try their hand. Still, she must play their game if she were to convince anyone of anything. Lilliah smiled softly and reached out a gloved hand to pat the old man’s, then looked to the other two, none too young themselves,

“The High Lord Marcanos then, his house does have friends throughout the factions of Illian he do be able as any I could wish to see on the Council of Nine.” She smiled at Ilan amiably and took a long sip from her cup. Ilan’s returned smile was more of a sneer and he seemed to empty his wine in one gulp.

“I did tell the High Lords I do have no interest in playing the puppet for them. Perhaps you will make a better one.”

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

She pushed the voice down, letting it drown beneath the sea of haughty banter that arose from the gentlemen in the room. Lilliah let them carry on, barking at Ilan that he had the wrong of it all and there would not be any puppeteering, not by them. If Ilan was listening he did not care, his cold eyes were focused on her. When they settled down and silence enveloped the sitting room Lord Daerom cleared his throat.

“My dear, my Lady, as it do stand, the Council do be short one member in the wake of your uncle’s death and we do feel it be past time that position did be filled. You did study under your most revered uncle’s tutelage and...up north as well.” Ilan snarled, but the gray haired man continued quickly, “We do feel that you do be up to the task, my Lady. With some little coaching and advice from a few wise old men, whatever nasty spin young Marcanos here does put to it. We, four do offer to help you gain a place among the might and powerful of Illian.”

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

It was getting harder to dismiss the persistent warning. The elderly Lords had risen to stand with Ilan, Daerom extended a hand in the old fashioned manner of sealing a bargain or pact. They had said four but she could see in her old friend’s face that he was holding reservations and doubts. Lilliah herself was doubtful. She was not so naive as she had been six years ago when she set off for Tar Valon. The coaching and advice they offered would surely put the bit in her mouth and they would steer her just as deftly as the tamest of horses. These men were no fools, but if they had deemed her a biddable child they would soon wake to find themselves in not quite the positions they had imagined.

That was what her six years in the Tower had gained her; a back bone of the finest steel and a mind just as sharp. She had read every book on politics, studied every text of history and questioned sisters until she was shooed away. Daes Dae’mar ran through her veins now more swiftly than ever before and her first fix of power in reach. Lilliah would play these men for all the advantage they gave and leave them dumbfounded in the end. Her lips curled in a devious smile, charming to the unaware. She stood and smoothed her skirts. The corner of her eye caught the brilliant glow of an arch.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Her eyes flickered from the glow to the men before her. There was something beyond that gateway of light that promised her a chance at power, power more immense than that which stood only a hand grasp away from her. But this side of the arch held a certainty. She would have influence over the lives of men and women by the thousands, she would be revered and respected everywhere she went, one of the greatest cities of the world would be in her hands. And, perhaps, Illian could have a queen. Lilliah’s eyes glittered with fevered ambition. She would be great here but she knew if she took that step through that arch something more waited for her, something greater.

“My dear, does everything be well?” Daerom lowered his hand and frowned with a look of sincere worry, whether for her or himself was debatable. Lilliah did not hear him over the conflict in her mind; she stood staring over her shoulder at the arch. It called to her and the glow began to fluctuate with a quickening pulse. She turned and took two steps away from the men.

“Lilliah,” Ilan called out suddenly. Her head whipped about and caught his eyes, the heat and revulsion were gone and only a deep concern remained. She wondered how much of a mad woman she looked just then; staring intensely at something unseen, mouth agape hands grasping skirts so tightly that wrinkles were beginning to set. “Lilliah, please, do accept the offer, I will no let them use you as they would. You will be more powerful than you could dream. The Council, Lill, just think!” He was reaching out to her now, his arms wide open as if she would run into them so he could twirl her about as he once did. There was no more ire there, just a desire to protect her whatever she had been or done. Distress shadowed his eyes and she fought as she might to break the gaze. She backed away a step and her heart broke, he would never trust her again whatever she did. She took another and could feel the glow surrounding her. The Lord’s faces were dark, their contempt plain to see. One more step and she would give away all that she strived for, all she desired. Her foot slid backward...

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

...and she stood staring through the rivulets of water streaming down her face at the silvery arch before her. She turned slowly, a heat in her face that the overturned pitcher had not managed to cool. She burning glare took in each woman in the room and she weighed them thinking only of the power she had sacrificed and whether any of these before her could offer more.

Lilliah ignored Jade Sedai’s words of being washed clean and walked immediately to the next arch; the fire raging through her body kept her from shivvering in her nakedness. The sister was at her side in an instant with a look on her face that might have been consternation or any other emotion for it was gone, replaced Aes Sedai serenity so swiftly any change might have been imagined.

“This time is for what will be. The way back comes but once. Be steadfast.”

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

“Aes Sedai, the High Lords Marcanos, Gernalo, sal’Borae and Daerom are waiting in the large sitting room. I have taken the liberty of having wine and tea sent for.” The hunched little man bowed with great effort and rose slowly to a height that was much less than it had been in his youth. Lilliah stared at him. The familiarity of having heard those words, here, in this chamber was alarming. She rose so quickly from the padded bench before her mirror stand that Armen took a hasty step back and grimaced with the pain of sore joints. It do be a pity I have no real Talent with Healing. she thought regretfully. Armen had been in the house’s service for as long as she could remember, no wonder the exchange had felt familiar, surely he had announced dozens of arrivals to her in this room over their history together. He should be enjoying his pension and his grandchildren’s children the sweet man she had only fond thoughts for the faithful steward who took all matters of House del’Darwae upon himself in her long absences. Lilliah made a promise to see that she found a worthy replacement for the feeble man before leaving this time.

As she adjusted her light shawl Lilliah felt the tickle of the long gray fringe brush her bare elbows. She spared a moment to caress the soft white linen that bore the flame of Tar Valon proudly on its back. The same pride suffused through her as she glanced down at her great serpent ring circling the first finger of her left hand. “Thank you, Armen. I supposed we had best get this done with.” The steward smiled with relief and moved to hold the door open for her. She exited into the strip of hall that would lead her to the large sitting room and glanced from the corner of her eye at one of the large gilded mirrors that lined the way. The difference was minimal, noticeable only to some one watching daily for changes, but she had gone beyond the slowing now for a certainty. Hers was an ageless face. As she came to the door Lilliah looked over her shoulder as the steward halted a step behind.

“Armen, I do think the High Lords need be taught a lesson best done in private. If you would see we are no interrupted...” she needed to say no more, he was already bowing away offering “Of course Aes Sedai.” and “On the moment, Aes Sedai.” It was enough to make her sigh and laugh at the same time. To hear one who used to call her ‘My Skinny Lady’ lavish her with honorifics was something to regret and rejoice, for if she had convinced Armen she was to be revered than noone would dare to challenge her authority. At least he can rest a while now she though as the old man turned the corner out of her sight. Adopting her most stoic clam Lilliah pushed open the doors.

Three chairs scraped along the floor as she flowed into the room, the forth merely creaked with the relief of weight that told of a slower rise. Lord Daerom appeared to be growing weaker by the day. As she glided to her seat Lilliah took in every nuance of the room from the sweat beading on a chilled silver pitcher that no doubt held the wine Armen had prepared to the wrinkles that adorned the High Lord Gernalo’s coat. They must have been waiting some time the smooth faced woman though with amusement, Either that or Gernalo’s age does be showing in his carelessness. She gracefully took her seat, high backed and almost throne-like though just as free of decoration as the other four. She was here solely to see matters were put to rights, not to drub these men with the power of the White Tower. It would do no good to put their backs up against her with an obvious show of her superiority in this place.

She gestured that they sit and folded her hands delicately in her lap as they made their pleasantries and brushed their coats into place. All but the High Lord Ilan Marcanos. The tall brawny man was showing ample streaks of gray at his temples and no few wrinkles crossed his brow; he stood silently beside his seat. His present frown only served to enhance the depth of those creases. Lilliah could easily see he was not the gentle man she had once known and the room around him was quivering with apprehension.

“My Lords,” she began, gently cutting off their ingratiating chatter, “I do think it be best if we...”

“Why do you be here?” Lilliah’s eyes panned to Ilan and she quirked a brow it him and his interruption. The old, gray men hissed and snarled cautions and threats his way but none of it seemed to phase the younger man, his eyes held such a heat for her that she wondered if he were indeed mad as the rumors floating about the city seemed to indicate. It was not the man that made her wary though, rather the strange feeling that she had done all this before.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Goose pimples spread down the lithe woman’s spine at the resonance of that voice within her. More and more she was certain there was something familiar about this day. Clearing her mind of the disturbing thoughts Lilliah addressed Ilan, “Child, I do be here at the request of the High Lords and Council, as you do be one of both I suspect that you do know the answer to your question as well as I.” She had no longer had qualms about calling men and women as much as thrice her age ‘child’ when the situation or attitude called for it. Even here, with a man she had known almost the entirety of her life; to her he was simply a child. Ilan did not see it so.

“I do know very well, Lilliah, who did call upon you and why. What I do be wanting to know be why you did come. You do nolonger have a place here and no right to the seat of the House you do currently claim!” His shouting brought forth more sounds of disapproval and apologies from the sitting men.

“Young Marcanos, do calm yourself. Lilliah Sedai do be here because we did ask her. There does be a matter of law we did see fit she rule on for us.” The slow deliberate speech came from the feeble lord to her furthest right. Daerom. He did not look well, none of his past sharpness remained in those withered features and all the calculation had gone from his voice. Compared to him graying Ilan did indeed look the picture of youth. Ilan snorted a laugh at the Gray sister seated before him.

“She do be but a Tar Valon witch, Daerom. Your old eyes may no be able to see it but I do. She does come to sow dissension among us!”

Lord sal’ Borae muttered something beneath his breath that Lilliah thought might have been, “You do that well enough.” Ilan heard well enough and erupted with a spout of vulgarities Lilliah had never before heard the use of. She held up a hand and surprisingly Ilan silenced, though he continued to glare at her. He knew her reputation as a shrewd and unrelenting negotiator as well as the rest of the men in the room as much as he was loathe to admit it even to himself. She had done well establishing herself in these last ten years. Together with Ophera Sedai she had settled the Truce of Tarasin, extending the influence of the Altaran King another two hundred leagues from Ebou Dar and establishing a healthy flow of trade back into Amadicia and Tarabon. Aside from countless village and small city disputes Lillah had been a part of the division of Aringil with made the city jointly Andoran and Cairheinin with a set of laws to appease both countries. But her greatest and most proud achievement was the wresting of Mayene from the ever tightening clutches of Tear. Having found a safe route around the drowned lands and worked out a trade treaty with Steading Shangtai, Lilliah Aes Sedai Sister of the Gray Ajah made clear the way to keep the goods of the small city-state safe from the taxes and pirating their viscous neighbor. She had every reason and every qualification to be in this room. She was one of the greatest of her time and she knew it.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Lilliah knew that voice, knew that the urgency it stressed was real and she knew that she must work swiftly here now. She had learned through many trials that there was a time for subtlety and games and a time when your only option was abrupt bluntness. The unchecked fury and madness in Ilan’s eyes told her there would be no games here today.

“High Lord Ilan Marcanos, you do be accused by the High Lords of Illian of treason against your country and the laws that do govern her lands. You do currently hold the Palace of the King the Lord Dragon under siege and three of his Aes Sedai advisors did you take captive. You did make it known that you will no relinquish these prisoners until you do be crowned King in the Lord Dragon’s stead. The Lord Dragon do be otherwise engaged so it does fall upon our own heads to see a peaceful end to this tumult.” This was not a trial and though the Aes Sedai felt it would end in one she felt the only was to bring Ilan about was to lay his situation plainly before him. He must truly be mad to have set these events in motion and while Lilliah had an immense urge to find out just how he was holding three sisters against their will the whole matter was volatile and she knew she must stay her course. “I do be here to give you your options as they do fall before you. Accept and there may be a way clear to keeping your head attached to your shoulders. Fail to heed me in any regard and you will know the full wrath of the Tower.”

A rictus snarl formed over Ilan lips and though a low growl rumbled in his throat Lilliah pressed onward with all the outward calm befitting her position. She continued,

“Lord Marcanos, you do have no support in your endeavor save those here whom you hold unlawfully against their will. Three feeble old men of failing houses do no be enough to secure you any power here. You did place yourself neck deep in a boiling kettle Ilan and there do be no safe way for you to turn save the Tower and the protection we can offer.”

“Never....” he whispered.

The way back will come but once. Be steadfast.

Across the room a silvery arch flashed into existence. The room erupted in chaos. Ilan was lunging across the room, knife in hand, face twisted grotesquely in rage. He flailed about violently with the bared steel at the younger two of the elderly lords who had leapt from their chairs, chasing them about like a wild beast. Daerom shouted at the crazed man and Ilan turned his attention to the frail lord letting the others flee. It all happened in a matter of stunned seconds that it took the paralyzed sister to regain herself and embrace the source. Lilliah lashed out with Air and pulled back, sharply tightening the flows around the airborne Ilan. He hung there motionless arm extended and knife glinting in the bright light of the room mere inches from Daerom’s throat. The way the younger man was positioned trapped the small old man in his chair. Unblinking they stared at one another.

The shimmering archway called to her pulsing with increasing intensity. She knew she needed to go through though not why and she new it must be now. She was certain what lay beyond was urgent and dire, but she knew that once she was gone the events in the room would turn vile and bloody. The second she stepped through Marcanos would be free of the invisible bonds that held him and Daerom would be dead. She would fail. Ilan’s snarling turned to a snapping of his jaw, madly slavering and spitting. Tears ran down her ageless face as the frail old man struggled to slide his heavy chair away a pleading look finding her as she edged toward the light of the arch. She would not be able to save either of them, they would both die because she failed them. There was no time left, it had to be now, but she did not charge through the opening or fling herself down as she wanted. She hung her head in shame as she crossed the threshold. She had failed.

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

She did not bother picking her head up as her feet scuffed along the cold gray tiles. Gray, she thought, some Gray I would make. A hand took hers and led her across the wide expanse of the chamber and to a dais. As her tear blinded eyes began to see again Lilliah looked up to find the face of the Amyrlin before her and shrunk back. How could she come before Jendaia Sedai in her failure this way. She was not worthy of this. What she had done...

A third pitcher was emptied over the young woman’s head and she turned her face up to it so that it rinsed the salty rills from her cheeks. She felt a kind hand touch her face and opened her eyes to meet the Mother’s. In those deep green eyes Lilliah found not the searing revulsion she had expected, but the understanding of a woman who had been where she now stood and felt the pain, loss and shame just as keenly as she now did.

“You are washed clean of Lilliah del’Darwae of Illian. You are washed clean of the ties that bind you to the world. You come to us washed clean, in heart and soul. You are now Lilliah del’Darwae, Accepted of the White Tower.” She felt the cold metal slide over the third finger of her left hand. “You are sealed to us now.”