The Point of No Return

[Jay Carpenter]

He followed the Aes Sedai to his feet. She was tall for a woman, though he had glimpsed similar Sea Folk of towering height. He supposed he’d never see any of them again, but there was no reason to linger. Except one phrase gave him pause. He stopped at the door, turning to study each of them again as if he misheard.

Did she reference his service to her personally or service to the light itself? Drenched in black and bearing the kind of weapon that already tasted blood, he’d not assume it was the latter. A sarcastic answer tipped his tongue, but something held it. A curt nod was the only goodbye, and he left in the company of servants.

The hall was the same generic stone that marked every other part of the White Tower he’d spied before. He once visited Fate Sedai in her room, on promise to deliver his coat for all reasons. He still didn’t know what she planned to do with the thing. Not like it would fit her. How high in the Tower were they? Somewhere private to account for the conversation and servants in the hall, probably. He was eager to be gone, and looked to the woman leading the way. 
“How far is the walk to the —“ and then he stopped. Eyes caught on a banner fixed to the wall. The flag of Tar Valon was something familiar. The flame something he once dreamed to wear on his back as a guard of the city. It shouldn’t give him pause. Never really did. Except this one was wreathed in red.

He looked back over one shoulder.
“Was that the Red Ajah?” he asked with fresh perspective. The decor might have fit in any rich domain, but now he looked, there were glimpses of red more than anything. The servant noticed that he had stopped, surveying his appreciation of the banner and their surroundings.

“Of course. You were a guest of Kekura Sedai, Sitter of the Red Ajah. Surely you knew that?” she peered at him as if confused by this ignorance.

This was normally the kind of news that would make him run for the hills. Make him want to crawl out of his skin and put on the face of someone else just to make sure they didn’t find him again. The Red Ajah gentled men who could channel for three thousand years. They hunted men who could channel. Given Jai’s personal appreciation of what it meant to hunt something down and kill it, that should be concerning.

But instead he shrugged and followed on. His hand didn’t even brush the hilt of his sword.

Eventually, they came to more familiar hallways. Ones decidedly nearer the ground. His head was down as he walked, but there was no counting his steps. For some reason, the emptiness was nice. The last time he was here was in the company of an Accepted with striking eyes and a wit sharp as a guillotine. He was already considering his next destination when fresh air wafted in the distance. It was going to be difficult to get close to the M'Hael. Not after the last time he was in the Tower wrecked his reputation. Could request an audience? Take him by surprise? An angreal would help, but the few in the Tower were fiercely guarded. Stealing one would be almost harder than the primary task at hand.

The city was cool this night. An idle thought bubbled his planning. Would be a shame to leave it. Andor’s temperate air was usually riddled with humidity. Nothing like Arad Doman, but more than the city of his birth. For some reason, he had a feeling it was going to be storming when he jumped south.