The Point of No Return

[Natalie Grey]

Esenya Sedai

Sitter for the Yellow Ajah

The Yellow Sitter was tall for a woman, as tall as most men. Long dark hair fell in an elegant river down her back, pinned neatly away from her dignified and ageless face. Her dark gaze was clear, and her silent confidence as majestic and solid as the mountains of her home – and as enduring. Only the simplest embellishments accompanied the severe lines of her modest dress, and the yellow fringed shawl was looped formally about her elbows as she waited beside Kekura Sedai. Saidar split the silvery Gate, for a moment reflecting its light in her eyes, but she did not see its creator beyond. The broad, black bound shoulders of the man it admitted filled almost all the space, and the shadows of night claimed what else swirled behind.

Esenya had not known who to expect, and for the briefest moment her gaze shone a surprised recognition. When last she had beheld this Asha’man it had been with a deep and mournful regret. None of this impinged upon her stately expression now, of course, though the Yellow always looked a touch mournfully judgemental. She did not know if he would remember her as the Sister who had healed him many months before, for Jai Asad Kojima had been deep in his cups, naked, and beaten to a bloody pulp when she had been called to the Tar Valoni home. A sadly poor example of his kind. One who had imbibed so much alcohol it had poisoned his very blood.

Her admonishment at the time had been a lament; that this was the calibre of man standing between the world and the Dark One was a great grief to her. She felt the weight of heavy dismay settle in her chest once more. The Black Tower, in its infancy, could not hope to rival the nobility and steadfastness of its White counterpart of course; Esenya’s expectations were not unreasonable in that regard. Still, she had been deeply disappointed in what she saw before her then. 

She did not look askance at Kekura, though she was sceptical now. Matters so serious as the ones contemplated tonight ought not rest on flimsy shoulders. The Hall would eviscerate the testimony of a weak man whether he spoke the truth or not. Worse, could they even trust the word of a drunkard?

It was a different creature who stood before them now, however. Tall and proud and formal, swathed in the severe black of his station. The pins gleamed at his throat. Esenya appreciated the solemnity of his bow, and found herself a little placated by it. Perhaps the man learned from such terrible lessons as she had witnessed in aftermath. One might hope. She had seen men brought low and trembling at the Blightborder, sometimes driven to poor vices by the crushing realisation of what must be faced. It did not mean they did not rise nobly to their responsibilities after. And he did call himself a veteran.

“Light’s blessings, Asha’man.” Her voice was deep for a woman, and inflected with the north. She followed the Red Sitter’s lead, naturally, but her solid gaze did not waver as they sat. Her hands folded in her lap. She would observe him closely for cracks. “Duty is seldom easy,” she added upon Kekua’s acknowledgement of his difficult position, sharing her agreement, but also placing the heavy mantle of responsibility upon his shoulders. Words she had said to him before, in fact. Though it was not stated in warning, just in expectation. Esenya was pleased to see he had not wilted. In fact he looked utterly calm and resolute. Not the man she remembered, thank the Creator.

For now Reloane Sedai did most of the speaking, as Grays were wont to do. There was a thorny issue of legality here after all. Esenya herself was more interested in ascertaining his credibility, and in so doing, deciding which way the Hall's favour was likely to fall.