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Life in the White Tower had been fraught of late, any Aes Sedai would have admitted as much, if only to themselves. Being a member of the Black Ajah had added its own excitement, of course, not only due to the fear of what would happen if she were uncovered, but because the Ajah itself seemed as fractured as the Tower as a whole. Being stabbed in the back by one of her Black Sisters had always been a possibility, the Shadow was not known for such things as loyalty and unity, but things had definitely gotten worse.
Looking out of the grimy window of a small building that could barely be called a ‘house’, in a village that barely deserved the moniker, Ranja had to admit that the Tower had been better than this. Sure, she had lived under the constant fear of being killed in her sleep, either by agents of the Light or the Shadow, but she had at least slept in a clean linen shift, between clean sheets and surrounded by the collection of house plants she’d worked so hard to cultivate in her apartment in the Yellow Ajah quarters. She could have at least spent her last night in comfort, right up until the part where she’d suffer a gruesome and likely painful death.
Well, hindsight is always a great thing, she mused as she turned her back to the window and the less than uplifting view it offered. This deep in the Blight, in the shadow of the fortress that was rumoured to be the residence of one of the Great Lord’s Chosen (though nobody could seem to agree on which one), it was nothing short of a miracle that any life thrived at all. The sight of children playing on the dusty street always made her feel things she did not want to dwell too closely on. It was not regret , not quite, but… perhaps something related. She had chosen her path; the children born into conditions such as these had not.
Not that it mattered a whit in the end. She sighed and fetched her cloak. It was time to brave what passed for the market in this place if she wanted to eat today.
Before she could make it halfway to the door, she became aware of a presence in the room with her. Breath catching in her throat, she turned to face it just as it spoke in a voice like the rustling of dead leaves, “Aes Sedai.”
Ranja suppressed an uncharacteristic shudder. “What is it, Halfman?” she demanded, though her voice was more brittle than commanding. At least it didn’t shake, she thought with a slight grimace as she contemplated the Fade before her. Was it just the cramped space, or was the creature really taller than others of its kind? Surely not; Fades were all identical. Surely..?
“I am Shaidar Haran,” the creature said. “You are summoned.”
Fifteen years ago, when she had been freshly raised to the Shawl introduced to the Black Ajah, she might have felt a thrill of excitement at the words. Now, older and wiser and poised on the edge of a world ending, she found that she didn’t feel much anything. She wrapped the cloak around herself, raised the hood for some semblance of anonymity, and nodded. “Very well. Lead on.”
The fortress, she discovered as she was led inside, was even more oppressive and forbidding up close than seen from the village. Something about the very walls made her feel like she was about to lose her mind, until she realised that there were no doors or windows in any of the hallways she was led through, though by all rational sense there should have been unless the entire fortress was just one big maze.
She didn’t see the door her guide led her to until it was right in front of her. She looked up at the Halfman. “In there?” It nodded. “What’s in there?” she ventured, but received no further explanation, just a nod towards the door.
She opened it.
The room on the other side would have been almost cosy if not for the tacky red-and-black colour theme and the lack of a window or any natural light. Then, Ranja’s eyes were drawn to the bed, where a man was lying either asleep or unconscious. She looked back at her guide. “Who is that?”
“Nobody,” came the reply. It made no sense, everybody was somebody , but somehow Ranja knew the creature was not lying. Then it continued, “Your task is to keep it alive until it is needed.”
“To keep it – ” she repeated, too confused to watch her tongue. “What do you mean, ‘needed’?”
Her question went ignored. “The zomara will provide you with everything you need.” Pause, short but loaded. Then, “Do not fail.” And with that, Shaidar Haran vanished into the shadows, leaving Ranja alone with her charge.
It took several seconds longer than it should have for Ranja to realise that the door through which she’d entered was no longer there. A part of her wanted to panic, but either her Aes Sedai training took hold or she’d gone so far beyond fear in the past weeks that it no longer mattered and instead of falling apart in hysterics she walked calmly to the bed to look more closely at the man in it. He was young, moderately handsome, probably attractive if one was into men, and very obviously completely unaware of her presence. She gingerly laid a hand on his forehead and channelled a trickle to Delve him. The Delving told her that there was no physical reason why he should be unconscious…
To keep it alive until it is needed, Shaidar Haran had said.
Alone in the room — because she truly believed that she was alone, now, despite the presence of another living body — Ranja let a shudder of horror and disgust run through her. She had no idea what a body without a soul residing in it could possibly be used for, or how such a thing had even been produced in the first place, but she had been charged with keeping it alive, and she strongly suspected that her own life hinged on her success, so she gathered herself and looked down at the body again.
“So, I’m stuck with you, then,” she muttered. Somehow speaking out loud made her feel more in control of the situation, and addressing her words to the body made it seem more human. “I guess I’ve had worse patients. At least you’re not going to tell me your life story, are you? Good. I don’t want to know.”
She lost track of time. Days passed; weeks, maybe. Ranja focused on her task of keeping the soulless body alive. She made sure it received enough nourishment to maintain itself; she cleaned it up when needed; she made sure it sustained no unnecessary damage from lying still for days on end. It would wither away eventually, though; there was only so much she could do without a soul in the body to give it a will to live, but she refused to think about it until the day would come.
And then, one day, it finally happened.
Ranja had just finished cleaning it and changing the sheets when suddenly the body took a breath, not steady and shallow but deep, almost a gasp. Ranja froze, the soiled sheets falling to the floor next to the laundry basket. The body stirred, something like a moan rising from its throat.
“Easy,” Ranja murmured, trying to sound calmer than she felt. “Do not strain yourself. You have been ill for a long time.” The lie came easily enough, though she supposed there was a sprinkle of truth to it; the lack of a soul could be considered an illness, if not a natural one. The body on the bed had stilled at the sound of her voice and the head turned towards her, eyes flickering open and squinting against the candlelight. “Can you tell me your name?” Ranja asked.
“You – ” the young man — it was suddenly impossible to think of him as just ‘the body’ anymore — began but his voice, hoarse from lack of use, cracked and faltered. Ranja held a cup of water to his lips and he drank a couple of small sips. Then he tried again. “You may call me Nae’blis.”
The cup clattered to the floor from nerveless fingers. Nae’blis. The Great Lord’s appointed leader of the Chosen. Either the man was out of his mind, which would not have been very surprising after everything he must have been through, but to claim that title in this place… Ranja believed him.
She sank to her knees on the floor and lowered her head. “Great Master,” she said, not caring that her voice trembled. “I didn’t know…”
A strange sound interrupted her, and it took a moment for her to realise it was laughter. “Of course,” the Nae’blis said. Now that he was awake, he seemed to be regaining strength in some unnatural way, atrophied muscles and stiffened joints repairing themselves before Ranja’s eyes. “Why would you have.” He looked around as if expecting somebody who wasn’t there. Then he shook his head as though dismissing a thought. “No matter. Get up. Your task here is done. The Great Lord is pleased with your performance, but there is still work to be done.”
The next task sent Ranja away from the Blight Fortress again, much to her relief. She did all that was asked of her, otherwise keeping a low profile through the months leading up to the final battle against the forces of Light, and though Light was victorious, after the smoke had cleared, Ranja found herself still alive.
Adrift, feeling disconnected from the rest of the survivors — and not really wanting to reconnect with any Friends of the Dark who might have also survived — she travelled the countryside, trying to decide what to do with her life now. She couldn’t go back to the Tower; she’d heard about the Purge, and there was every chance that her name had been on the list as well and her life would be forfeit if she ever showed her face near an Aes Sedai again. While she couldn’t say she was too attached to the life she was leading, she wasn’t quite willing to give it up, either.
A band of Tuatha’an took her in when she was hiding from a late spring storm in an abandoned barn. They asked no questions and their kindness touched something inside her that she’d thought she had managed to smother for good. She had begun to cautiously hope that she might be able to stay with the group until she figured out her future, but then one night there was another guest to their fires.
He was young and tall, with black hair and startlingly blue eyes, and Ranja would have recognised him anywhere. An accomplished liar and actor through necessity, she managed to hide her shock and dismay from the Tuatha’an, but she knew this was the end, she’d been found, and she was not going to survive the night. Wanting to spare her new friends the tragedy, she made to sneak off into the night, but the man who had been Nae’blis stopped her.
“A word with you,” he said, all casual cheer, “in private, if you please.”
“Of course,” she replied and followed him to the fringes of the camp.
“I can see you think you know me,” the man said without preamble.
Confused but not daring to hope that she’d been mistaken — she hadn’t, she knew that face well enough though it had been slack and expressionless through most of the time she’d spent with it — Ranja dropped to her knees. “Great Master…”
“Oh, stop that,” the man said, his voice part irritated, part… embarrassed? “I was trying to say – Well, never you mind the details, but that’s all in the past now. Forget it. You’re trying to go about your life in peace? So am I. And if you’ll let me, I can help you make a new start.”
Still on her knees in the cool grass, Ranja listened in growing confusion. Why would the once-leader of the Great Lord’s Chosen say something like this? And more to the point, why was she listening, hoping it might be real and not some kind of horrible game or a trap?
“Look,” the man was still speaking, “I know you don’t trust me.” He chuckled. “Believe me, if I knew me from before, I wouldn’t trust me either. And in the morning we can go our separate ways and pretend this never happened. But…” and his voice grew softer there, almost wistful, “...if you’d be willing to listen, I could tell you a story and you can decide what you make of it. The world has had another chance. I think you could, too.”
She looked up and saw that he was holding his hand out towards her. It was becoming more and more clear that whoever the man was, despite everything he was not the Nae’blis, somehow, and Ranja had a chance to live. Did she want his help? Oh, she was far from sure about that. But surely she could listen to his story, if only to buy time.
Slowly, she took his hand. He smiled and pulled her upright, and then she was following him back towards the light of the campfires.