Dovienya squealed of joy the moment she was given the command to come and crashed into the woman that started laughing as she tumbled backwards into the large oak tree. The very same tree that she had been leaning against meanwhile working and had been a place of resting throughout all her years here. A warm, rough tongue quickly covered every inch of the woman’s face in a matter of seconds and the former clean shirt received paw prints and dirt all over it; but the young woman did not show and concern.

“Is all dogs like that?” The deep melodious voice belonged to Nei n’Dore, the tall and exotic Atha’an Miere and one of Mel’s very close friends. They had found a common ground in their need to sometimes just sit on the edges of the loud and often-unruling warder trainee groups. Both preferred that instead of participating in the few hidden games of various gambling, drinking, sport events and dancing that occurred. The matches of different sports could have been another matter but Mel hated to have to defend her honor when a hand grabbed mindfully at places where an honest wrestler would never and Nei in his place did not want to hurt anyone because of his unnatural size and strength.

“The ones that likes you are,” a voice replied before Melan had a chance to. A voice that spoke volumes of exactly how bored the owner was in this very moment and how ignorant someone must be to ask such a trivial thing. Mel frowned in a pretended irritation towards her best friend and partner in crime Michael Peroda, a Taraboner whom was quite the opposite of herself. He was loud, obnoxious, filled with jokes that were often played out on other people’s expense. It was always Michael that were the one organizing the gambling sessions and different sports and games; and he exceeded very well in all of them, which showed of what he had been doing most of the time before arriving to the Tower. And it was always Michael that somehow never got caught when everybody else did.

“And I hear from your rather tedious voice that no one has ever liked you,” her voice was light but turned into falsely sympathetic as she continued; “Do not worry my beloved Michael, one day you will find a mongrel that will find you not too… exquisite for their taste…” The slim woman did not get any further… “EEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeh, you will get of me right now!” The red headed Taraboner had made a quick dive on top of Mel and was tickling her on all those places she hated the most. Between her teeth the Shienaran was calling him names of this and that but nothing containing a single curse word; Melan had always thought that such manners were bad taste and not something she wanted to get into a habit with. Dovienya joined the fight meanwhile yelping and yalping like a little puppy outside of herself of all the fun; now and then snapping softly at Michael’s feet and shoulders.

“That is not fair! You guys are two against one!” He complained loudly but with obvious delight and was just about to throw the lighter woman away a few paces, which promised to leave her rather bruised up when they were interrupted by the Atha’an Miere’s suddenly, and unusually, commanding voice.

“Look! What is that?” Nei barked meanwhile raising with that feline grace Mel had always been so impressed by, and jealous of for that matter. It was the sort of smooth motion no one could train; it was something one would only inhabit by birth and after a whole life living on the rolling ships and working on the decks belonging to the Atha’an Miere. The ebony man was pointing towards the East and a multitude of piles of belching smoke were rising towards the sky in a hideous dance; giving a silent promise of devastation and destruction from were they came from. Like a low murmur that rose with an increasing speed towards a crescendo as the smoke thickened the screams and shouts from the people of Tar Valon started to echo among the walls. For a long moment the three young trainees just stood there as the unthinkable slowly seeped into their minds and took a hold of their souls.

Tar Valon, the jewel amongst cities, the never failing bastion against the Shadow, the home of the legendary and immortal Aes Sedai, stood in flames and was burning!

“Do not stand there like fools staring at a woman’s naked leg for the first time in their life for Peace sake; grab a bucket and RUN!” Krion al’Cair threw three buckets of the five he was carrying at the trainees without slowing down on his tempo as he speeded towards the Gates that would lead them out towards the city. Mel reacted instantaneously on the order, grabbing a bucket and starting to sprint after the Warder meanwhile feeling how the other two men moved with lightning speed just behind her. Nei’s long legs brought him past her and Michael after only a few seconds. The tall man’s legs were quickly eating up the distance that was between him and the seemingly weightless Warder that was flying at the front of the small pack.

Krion al’Cair… The without doubt best archer in the Tower whom it was whispered was climbing closer to the Master rank for every day that so few Warders before him had been able to achieve during a whole lifetime of training.

Krion al’Cair… The man whom had bested monsters straight out of nightmares in the Blight to save his sister’s beloved.

Krion al’Cair… The man whom loved and was Bonded to one of the most talented Yellow Aes Sedai alive in the Tower and thus fulfilled every young woman’s most mythical romantic dream.

Krion a’Cair… The man who held her heart in the palm of his hand without realizing it, whom could order her to learn how to fly and she would; whom could ask for the moon and she would try; whom with a single glance or approving nod could make her day and then leave her crying on her mattress for the rest of the night in the protecting darkness of the lonely female barracks…

Within minutes they had reached the first house that was burning. As all houses in Tar Valon it was made out of Ogier cut stone shaped into various designs. Designs that seemed to have been picked up with the help of the One Power out of the sizzling sea, then enlarged thousand fold and put right there on the street to be admired by mere mortals. This particular one was of the shape of an open clam with a gigantic mother pearl inside of it; from her own experience Mel knew its interior was spacious and contained three levels; with the bedrooms on the third. The flames that were licking the sky came out of the different and artistic openings that were the windows and seemed to almost be blue in their angry destructive dance. A jolt went through her gut as a particular large flame licked the sky.

“Not the orphanage,” Krion groaned and stopped at one of the rippling fountains that were like soul clad diamonds scattered through the city like jewels. Within moments his bucket was filled up with water and ran towards the door and was about to give it to a man that just came out with an empty one of his own. Yet in the next moment the man started to shriek in terror and pain, a sound that seemed to want to cut through one. As he turned around meanwhile waving his hands hysterically the trainees realized his back was on fire. Krion acted without hesitation and put out the fire effectively with his own water but pulled the man down on the ground quickly almost in the same movement and rolled him around for good measure. His facial expression barely shifted as his hands touched still bubbling skin though the people that had been trying to help carrying water gathered around them shouting out advice and looking randomly panicked.

Melan, Michael and Nei barely spared the Warder a glance and did not stop for a second to behold the terrorizing site that seemed to have dumbfounded many of the crowd that either stood motionless on the street or ran around like chickens with their head cut of. Instead they quickly went to work; almost without words working together as smoothly as any firearms team. Melan quickly started to shake life into those that attempted to understand what was happening to their wonderful city and urging them with words and at times even physical force to start moving purposefully towards the fountains.

“Get moving! Don’t just stand there staring as if it is a naked lady!” Melan showed a man probably around his thirties with bulging muscles and a thick well trimmed beard hard on his shoulders. “You too missy,” she shouted at a woman that was crying hysterically. “Dry those tears and do something useful.” The Shienaran was methodically working through the crowd and had within a minute gotten more than half of them to gain their wits back; some of them nodded in resignation, others with determination before joining the redheaded Manshima and the dark skinned Atha’an Miere at the fountain close by.

Even in this distressing situation a few men and women afforded themselves the luxury to glance in some degree of disgust at the black man with his exotic features. People’s prejudice was surprisingly strong.

“Are all the kids out?” She yelled toward the Orphanage Keeper Miss Danielle whom was trying to spread her protective wings over easily twenty crying minors; a usually charming mixture of boys and girls. The smaller ones were huddling in her skirts with their achy faces peeking out now and then meanwhile Danielle was cooing soothingly to all of them and throwing startled looks at her burning home and life’s work. “Miss Danielle – are all the children safe?” Melan yelled even louder; trying to catch the woman’s attention.

The burning inferno behind them that covered the whole row of houses down the streets made such a racket that it seemed impossible for anyone to hear her. Mumbling under her breath about people not being capable of handling stress the light skinned young woman waded through the sea of crying children, patting a few on their heads meanwhile assuring them that every thing was going to be okay. The older woman suddenly seemed aware of the possibility of being slapped and shrank back meanwhile refocusing her eyes on the angry little blossom standing in front of her with sparkling blue topaz eyes seemingly dipped in a emerald made liquid and said; “Yes, yes Melan, they are all here.” She stammered. After nodding a thanks the siswai headed back to her two friends whom had already started organizing the people she sent them to help and were now forming a assembly line.

Michael and Nei were receiving brim full buckets with water by the long line of men, women and even children that had started to assemble to help them. Surprisingly it was Michael, and not Nei, that was giving orders on how they all should stand in a line with the older men closest to the house and women and children in the middle to hoist buckets of water towards Nei and himself so that they could take the brim full buckets and run into the house and pour it where it was best needed instead of just aimlessly splashing through the windows. It was all organized in a matter a minute or two, if that.

Krion, seeing that this place did not need him yelled to Melan whom happened to be closest to him; “I will go and see what is going on over there, make sure that all the children are safe,” before sprinting of around the next corner. Mel barely nodded at the order given as she continued to call out her encouragements and orders to the people helping them; she was positioned herself by Michael and Nei so that she in even intervals could fill their hands with buckets brimful with life saving water. Here and there others with minor or major burns were being dragged out on the streets from the houses down the street; the air was suddenly being filled with both screams of terror as well as pain; duplicating the man with previous burning back over and over again. The very air itself was starting to be painful to breath with all that thick smoke and a small corner of the Shienaran’s mind recorded that it would take the Yellow Quarters all their might the next few weeks to restore the people of this city to their full health. Another small voice whispered that not nearly as many was going to be lucky enough to ever again be in their full health. That voice was quickly silenced.

Suddenly the two men did not appear… All Mel could see with her tearing eyes in the hall of the familiar orphanage, where she had spent so much time playing and attending to the children, was dark belching smoke. The fire had yet to reach the lower levels.

“Michael! Neeeei!’ She yelled on the top of her lunges but could not hear anything; without a second of thought she took the next couple of buckets; emptied one on top of herself before grabbing the other one and ran into the inferno of flames that seemed to promise her the most dreadful of grief imaginable. After the first shock of entering the heat Mel stopped for a short second; took out her always present handkerchief, dipped it in the bucket and tightly tied it around her nose and mouth before stumbling up the stairs.

“Michael? Nei?” She coughed meanwhile trying to see; when she was on the second floor she was forced on her knees and had to keep on crawling forward in the now seemingly dwindling corridors of the small orphanage. A small impossible tear found its way out of the corner of her eye as the siswai realized that there were no way her friends could stay alive up here for much longer. She felt herself how every limb started weakening for every foot she succeeded in covering; the very breath in her lunges stung to such a rate she thought about holding her breath as much as possible. But she could not stop; she had to go on just in case she would…

The hand that clasped her ankle seemed weakened; but strangely familiar. “Melan…” The barely audible whisper came from the huge mass of legs and arms from the room to the left behind her could not be anyone else but Nei n’Dore; the man looked up on her for a short moment before drowsing away into half unconsciousness. The Shienaran crawled swiftly back; her limbs finding new strength in the adrenalin of finding one of the most beloved men in her life. “You big oaf!” She growled when touching the man’s head and feeling the wetness of blood on it. With a short sigh the siswai started the short trip back down the stairs; being careful to count how many rooms away from it she had found Nei, with the Atha’an Miere dragging behind her. All she could do was to be as careful as possible with his head.

Two long minutes later at the end of the stairs she felt three pair of hands taking a firm hold of Nei. Thankfully she allowed the men that had dared to come in on the lowest level to help her out into the sunlight and fresh air.

“Are you okay?” Asked the man whom had half carried her out in a concerned voice meanwhile offering her another bucket of water so that she could put her smarting hands in them. Blisters had already started to cover her fingertips and gave promise of continuing up her hands and her arms. It was the big muscle man that had been standing still as if terrorized by his fears earlier that had came back into the house after her.

“We still have a man in there! Second floor, third door on your let!” Melan barked meanwhile chipping for the blissful clean air; surprised over how blackened her clothing was and over the fact that she could care over such a simple thing in this moment.

“Ma’m,” the muscle man said carefully; “It is too late. No one in their right mind would go in there again… I am sorry.” He added; seeing the result of the impact of his words had made on the young woman sitting on the ground, and reached out awkwardly to touch her shoulder. Some woman had already started tended to Nei’s head injury; a fact that was registered in Mel’s head though she kept on starring at the man in front of her. Realizing what he had just said.

“You will never make a place for yourself in the legends,” she told him flatly before throwing the water she had emerged her hands in over head again; grabbed another one and threw herself through the door way before anyone had time to react. And sprinted for the staircase and was crawling up it within moments.

The third door on my left… Where is it? Oh Creator, do not let it be too late. Michael, you giant, ignorant piece of Tarabonic carpet. Where are you? The heat had increased on the second floor; telling the siswai that the fire had spread from the third floor down to the second. They had been lucky that it had started on the top. A fire starting on the top of a building took so much longer time to spread than if it had been started on the lower levels. Heat always made its way up.

There!

The scene that met her that day in that room would never be erased from the Shienaran’s memory for as long as she would live. Mel took it with her to the grave. The room she had entered was apparently the small library that the orphanage had spent so many years collecting. Which in the present situation turned it into a death trap with its old books, papers, and furniture. The thick beams in the roof had caught on fire early and thus been weakened to such a rate that it finally had fallen down and hit Nei in the head as he had thrown himself towards the door and miraculously saved himself from getting his head permanently removed from his shoulders meanwhile cutting Michael of from the door.

It was as if Mel was seeing everything through a red black haze; the Gates to the Pit of Doom itself had been opened before her eyes and she was starring into the engulfing flames by Shai’tan himself. There, on the other side of the burning beams, which weight made the floor underneath the Shienaran to creak in protest, sat Michael huddled up as far as possible from the fire. The young man was cradling something protectively in his arms wrapped in his wet shirt that he had pulled of his shoulders. The bundle suddenly quivered and two azure blue eyes framed with entrapping long black eyelashes suddenly stared at Melan. They were filled with so much hope that the young woman wanted to, for some strange reason, give up and sit down and cry right there. The almost four-year-old girl child then buried her head once again into Michael’s chest and seemed to disappear in is arms.

The Taraboner himself however only sat there and looked silently at his friend and partner in crime on the other side of the fire. Every memory of their time together, and the friendship they shared, and the hardship they had worked through seemed to play out in the look they then shared. Everything from how he had discovered that the skinny warder trainee from the Borderlands really had been a young woman in pursuit of glory and a place among legends, to how he had shared her pain over her unanswered love, to how they had pranked each other to no end just for the fun of it and the never ending pain their training brought them. Seven years of long friendship that impinged upon them both for life and shaped them into better people flashed by unuttered in a split second. They both knew that this was the end for a long story that would never be written down for others to share. Somehow Melan had always seen Michael being there; not Bonded to the same Sister of course, she could not stand Lilliah herself and Michael did rub Rakein the wrong way every time he opened his mouth. Even though the Tairen never said anything it was obvious what she thought of the imbecile. But still, he had always seemed to hover in the outskirts of her future; sharing it with her in both good days as well as bad.

A sudden dark rumble underneath them warned them only moments before the floor seemed to spring to life and heave rebelliously underneath their feet. Mel was thrown onto her side as the sensation of loosing grip of reality took over. The thud and loud pop when three of her ribs cracked seemed to echo within as she gritted her teeth at the unexpected pain brought that same reality back rather harshly.

“Are you ready?” Michael yelled; now half hunching were he had been sitting before; staring at the floor as if it was a living wiper ready to launch up and bite him with its venomous bite any second. It shuddered silently in answer of his misdirected challenge. “I will throw her to you on the count of three…” Mel bit her tongue from want to protest. One of the first lessons that were imprinted into them as trainees was that no one’s life was less important than theirs; and their Sister’s was the most of all. If the women they were going to Bond were Servants of All; then they would be the Servants of Servants and guard every living being of All with their own life. They were taught as new recruits that one-day they might have to make the choice and give up each other’s life for the betterment of All. Melan had to take another shuddering breath as she prayed silently to the Light and the Creator to take care of her friend and welcome him back into the Light before nodding in response.

“One,” She yelled.

”Two,” He yelled.

”THREE,” They screamed in unison and Michael stepped out on failing floor and threw the bundle over the burning inferno between them. Melan rose and received the little girl whom had not made one sound during her flight through the air. The impact made her tumble straight backwards; the Shienaran’s light eyes wide in surprise over the force it had taken Michael to throw the child over the distance of the large room. The pain of striking the wall behind her on the other side of the wall paralyzed her for a second; and she wondered for a moment if her lunges and other intestines were still intact or if she had impaled them with her broken ribs. A taste of blood in her mouth told her that something was far from alright.

The rumble inside of the room was ear-splitting and for a short second she thought she heard her name being called out as the triumphant roar of the fire increased to another level of its crescendo.

“MICHAEL! MICHAEL ANSWER ME!” The weakened Shienaran cried out almost hysterically as she tried to regain breath into her lunges. A tug at her hair from small arms that were tightly gripping around her neck Mel gained control over herself and started to half crawl on all fours and on her elbows towards the staircase; wheezing for breath and forcing herself to ignore the pain that the heat forced upon her skin. The girl in her arms was soaking wet; testifying how her friend had sacrificed all to keep the child safe even in a moment of despair as them both must have felt when no one came back for them after that Nei had been dragged out.

The siswai wanted to grieve, she wanted to cry out her pain and bottomless despair, to tear her hair, or just to be allowed to do something, but something inside of her held it all back and refused to allow her that privilege. Together the two of them continued down the stairs, sitting up and bouncing one after one down on her behind with the little four year old clasped tenderly in her arms. The journey down with the six times larger Nei seemed to have been a trip through the Garden compared to this. At the end of the stairs she stood up shakingly and with staggering steps made her way out through the open door that seemed to promise safety, sunshine and comfort far away from her own grief. Her soft leather boots was barely making a sound on the previously always spotless floor.

An outcry of relief greeted her as Mistress Danielle tore herself free from the arms that were holding her back from reentering the burning orphanages after discovering her miscalculation. “Eowyn, my sweet little Eowyn,” she cried as she received the little girl that now started hammering her little fists in protest on Mistress Danielle; shrieking in protest over the fact that Danielle had forgotten her up there in those horrible flames. How dared she! Mistress Danielle was too relieved to lecture the child in matters regarding respect for elders but continued to hug and kiss every inch of the child meanwhile applying cooling strips of wet cloth on bulging heat blisters.

Mel stumbled away coughing meanwhile running eyes starred out in emptiness; not feeling the approving patting on her back and murmured appreciations from the rest of the crowd. Emptiness seemed to have carved its own little hole where her heart had been before. In there a small flame of her own was fed with all the grief and sorrow that threatened to take over. Never again would a bucket load full with ice-cold water wake her up. Never again would she be taunted to far beyond what she could take because of her physical weakness. Never again would she look upon that freckled face and shake her head in dismay over his incapability to behave accordingly but smile within for his unbroken spirit. Slowly she pulled of her handkerchief over her mouth; surprised how utterly blackened it was by the smoke from the inside.

Numbly she sat down on the ground; not until now allowing herself to feel the pain in her left side and the fatigue that took over her limbs. As if in a distance she heard someone calling out that the third level’s floor was about to give way; she heard another one call out for his wife down the street, she heard as in a distance the hysteria and aimless grief in the man’s voice as he searched through the streets, stopping people in his quest to find the love of his life. Her eyes stuck with the searching man. It was odd to watch him; to observe and in a way share his loss that he apparently was not ready to accept yet. That he was obviously denying. It was… odd. She heard as in a distance someone calling out in surprise behind her that there where another survivor. She heard as in a distance a man coughing behind her and tumbling down next to her. Nothing mattered, she was of no use in this condition anyway.

“The next time you decide to take such a long time molesting that Sea Folk pet of yours can you please make sure that I am submerged to my neck in a cool pond, with a pretty girl and a pitcher of bear waiting for me at the edge? Preferably of Illianer decent.” The young man tried to spit but nothing came out of his dried mouth. “Strong guy though,” he grumbled meanwhile accepting water from one of the women attending to Nei not far from them both meanwhile gesturing towards the Atha’an Miere. “Lifted of that wooden beam from on top of himself as if it was nothing.”

Melan only starred at the rugged appearance of the former so light skinned Taraboner with the thousand of exquisite freckles that he invited so many ladies at the Taverns to try to count. His pants were dirty and torn at the knees, one of the boots were missing, and on his bare chest were small red curls of hair no longer could be found a dozen scrapes and scratches small tendrils of blood was dripping down. An air of ash and burnt hair seemed to stream from him.

“You look terrible.” She then said; stating the obvious as it was in accordance to her nature. “And you smell.” She added tonelessly, still not believing her eyes.

“Well thank you, so do you dear.” He answered with one of his small grins that turned into a grimace of pain as one of the younger women started to tend to the already blistering skin on his shoulders. “Take it easy with that one darling; it was from yesterday when I single handedly disarmed one of the most legendary Warders of them all with my bare hands, if you want I might take my time telling you the story tonight.” The young woman giggled impishly from getting such attention from one of this terrible day’s already legendary heroes. Mel rolled her eyes and wondered how she could have thought that a crashing house going down in flames could have disposed the world of such a man as Michael Peroda? A soft laughter suddenly escaped her chapped lips and she pushed the man gently on the shoulder.

“Stop that!” He complained and massaged it tenderly. “I had to land on something you know.” Michael added pointedly before winking at the Shienaran and returning his attention to the girl at his side.

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

One week exactly after the Fire the three friends were sitting as always underneath the huge oak tree in the Warder Yards, waiting for their next lesson to start. Nei had been ordered to take it easy for a week by the Yellows; whom did not want to tamper with people’s heads more than necessary. The Shienaran and Michael had both been forced to wait a day before being attend to since the ones with more life endangering wounds had to be tended to first and even the legendary Aes Sedai needed to rest at times. They all just sat, or half laid, there resting when Zaren Gaidin found them.

“Siswai Melan Chulien, you are to be reporting into the Mistress of Hashan’s Office immediately.” Michael tensed for a short second before realizing that his name was not going to be added to the meeting. He always seemed to be very uncomfortable as soon as the Mistress of Arms was mentioned. The Warder that had arrived with the summons then added, as if in an after thought; “I would hurry if I was you.” Mel gave the other two a look before jogging over towards Filaree’s office. She had known the woman for quite some time now and must admit that she liked her; with curse words and hard edges included. That she was summoned like this never boded well.

A soft rap on the door and bark of a command to enter followed by a deep bow on Melan’s part started the meeting.

“It will be short Mel,” the dark beauty in soft leather pants and white tunica said from her position behind the desk and pile of unread reports waiting for her attention in front of her. “To start with it is a surprise that your teachers has not recommended you for raising earlier; yet they all said that they felt that something was missing in you…”

“As you say, Mistress.” Melan echoed obediently; her eyes shining with the questions she wanted to ask but knew it was not her place. The fair skinned Shienaran with the platinum blonde hair had always made a point of learning everything each of her teachers could teach her; and try to perfect every weapon she could lay her hands on. Be silent when necessary and asking questions when proper were a part of a successful education at a place as the White Tower.

“Concerning your response to the emergency situation last week…” A dark shadow drifted over the features of the Mistress of Arms for a short second. The rebuilding of Tar Valon had started the next day after that the fire had been controlled and quenched. The toll had been the longest in Tar Valon’s memory. Or known history anyway. “Your actions and decision making as well as leadership skills has been sung to me every day by a various variety of people… Mostly Mistress Danielle,” Filaree added sourly. “I believe the woman has been in here at least six times wanting to see you and sending you and your two boys gifts.”

“Yes, Mistress Filaree, Mistress Danielle has been most gracious to us.” Melan answered courteously; for a short second seeing Michael allover again stealing all the candy for himself and his sweethearts. Filaree’s dark eyes seemed to observe her for a moment before allowing a short laughing to ripple through the air; its ring was thick and pleasant to listen to.

“Always man-flesh incarnated of proper behavior and courteous manners, you have not changed Melan.”

“No, Mistress Hashan, I try to keep to my principles,” the younger woman allowed herself a smile. Filaree had a keen eye and sometimes a bit too sharp tongue. A tongue that was never too late to instruct Melan exactly how much her ‘proper behavior’ had been holding her back from performing better in her training. The Shienaran however had felt that it was more important than quick success to keep her ideas of morality in forms of virtue versus vices in mind in every aspect of her life. She would find her place among legends in her own way.

“Well, even though it took you longer than expected you have done well Manshima,” the woman flickered with her wrist and a pin spun through the air. Melan reached out quickly and snapped it in the air before it would hit the wall behind her and looked at it; it was the sign of the next rank that would take her one step closer to her dreams.

The rank of the Manshima.

“That was all Manshima,” Filaree added, pretending to go back to her work. The rather stunned Shienaran bowed again; if not as deep as when she had entered before departing with a slight smile painting her small lips. The Mistress of Arms hid her cunning smile until the door smoothly shut behind the trainee; everything was going in accordance to plans with Miss Melan Chulien. Another few years and she might fulfill the expectations of both her own and Krion al’Cair.