The Point of No Return

[Natalie Grey]

Nythadri

“Jai?”

His head was down, but his stride smooth and purposeful; utterly focused. Recognition took a moment to swipe through her initial confusion; Jai shouldn’t be here, he couldn’t be here, and for the briefest moment she fancied it was naught but the conjuring of a mirage from her own spinning thoughts. Though as far as fantasies went, this one disappointed quickly. Something sharp punctured her chest when he did not so much as acknowledge her voice, and for a moment her head tumbled with all the gut-churning memories of her final test. Despite it Nythadri turned quickly, not caring what the servant thought of her haste. She reached for the crook of his arm, sank her fingers into the soft wool, and found her grip swept away almost as quickly; for he did not pause, or turn towards her, or even slow.

Her instincts all curdled in response. She felt a foolish amount of hurt, though she realised at the same time that something was also very clearly wrong. Daryen’s words replayed at speed, thoroughly dissected in the work of an instant. Not that he couldn’t lie if he’d wanted to, but she had no reason to suspect he would give her leave to speak to the gate guards, only to nudge her in the direction she would actually find him a moment later –  and not in such a manner as the strange concern imparted. With the memory of it her stomach fluttered cold, then flooded like ice through her limbs. She’d never considered Daryen might mean Jai was the danger.

She matched his pace. A steady breath refortified the manner of her armour. She detached herself from the moment. Light she had to.

"I'm simply dying to know how many steps there are between where in the light you've just been, and where it is you think you're bloody going,” she said, tone arid. Pale eyes watched sidelong at his expression, but it was deeply focused. Not in the manner of obsession, coiled tight as he had been when he contemplated the hunt’s conspiracies. In fact he did not seem tense at all given he was in the heart of the White Tower itself. She recognised what she saw, though. It was planning

"Actually, I don't know. I wasn't counting." His voice was soft, as though strangely surprised to admit it; then the consideration seemed to float away and he sank back into the mire of his own thoughts. He was silent again, contemplative; distant. Though he shot a brief glance at the accompanying servant, who dutifully ignored the conversation.

He kept walking.

Nythadri didn’t respond, though her heart was beating fiercely now. He seemed detached as mist over the sea, but she was not sure what instincts might still be whipped to the fore should she delve him with saidar. She had never witnessed the effects of Compulsion, but she could not imagine it to be anything else. Daryen claimed to have last seen Jai hours before. That left a small window of opportunity. Jai would not have come here of his own volition, surely; and certainly not to do what she was beginning to imagine, with no small amount of horror, what it was he must have just done. Light. The coercion could not have been Daryen either; he would not have needed to, even if she could fathom some kind of motive for self-sabotage. Which meant another Aes Sedai had been in Arad Doman, despite the Mother’s directive.

Compulsion of any significance was deeply forbidden. Most sisters would not even know how, Nythadri included. Which left the loose thread of a grim certainty; one she intended to pull on sharply the moment she could. Her jaw hardened. Protectiveness surged with such vehemence she felt an answering query from Eleanore. It was an effort to still the rise of her emotions, to smooth the intensity from her expression. Anger soaked the fear for what had been done to him. She vowed to root out the sister who dared. But she had to ride the wave of this first. What in the light was he supposed to do next?

And how was she going to stop him?

“He’s been in the Red halls?” The words were directed to the servant, who nodded. She recognised Larissa Telerian for the same reason everyone in the trainee Towers did; her miscreant daughter, Keio, who was more scourge than even the youngest, most mischievous novices. The flame stitched neatly at the woman’s breast gave no obvious indication in the dim evening light, but Nythadri knew she headed the flank of servants allocated to the Red’s halls. That had to be an answer to the coming insurrection; she was sure of it. Of the three Sitters, the instigator was an easy guess, but she could not imagine Kekura would be responsible for this. Shadows permeated the crevices, pulling the strings in cover of darkness; she was starting to see the shape of it. Just not who. “Where are you taking him?”

“The Travelling Grounds, Aes Sedai.”

A disagreeably uninformative answer, but she didn’t expect the woman to know more. Her attention returned to Jai, equally sure he would be obstructive, but she tried anyway.

“And where are you intending to Travel to, Jai?”

“I can’t say.”

“Wonderful,” she muttered. A glance around them ascertained their proximity to the grounds. A night breeze wafted from the wide windows, blessedly cool and fragrant with blossom. It seemed too pleasant a night for such ill omens. “Thank you, Larissa. I will take care of the Asha’man from here.”

The servant nodded, sweeping her skirts in the bob of a curtsy, and returned the way they had come.

Jai did not slow despite her departure. She imagined he recognised enough of where he was now to make the rest of the way unaided. Nythadri walked close, her shoulder brushing against his arm. Interrogation wasn’t likely to amount to much, but she searched for cracks anyway. Each question was answered the same way: “I can’t say.”

“You’d better be fighting this, Jai. And you’d bloody well better survive it.” She narrowed her eyes, but the sting was absent, even if he’d been present enough to acknowledge it.

As they crossed the last of the distance, leaving the Tower’s halls for the moon-drenched open night air, she listed the things a Black sister might wish for him to do, informed against what she suspected he had completed already. The precipice of dissolution did not affect her; she was not thinking about the future or the devastation he had already unknowingly wrought. Just the connections. An uncomfortable intuition glimmered; enough to catch her breath, but she couldn’t act on a hunch alone. She needed more certainty – if she was wrong and she left for help now, she would lose him entirely. It wasn’t a risk she was prepared to take.

And who could help?

Had Araya yet returned to Tar Valon? She’d not been able to spare the time to visit Hana first, and Elly had not said. Daryen would come, if she could find him quickly enough in the throes of his party. At least she thought he would come. But rushing into such a public ceremony, especially one barred to her, would be indelicate. And if the Shadow was watching it would paint a target right over Nythadri’s head. The sister who set this in motion might yet still be there.

When Jai stopped, she stopped. Her hands laced, watching the menace of saidin descend. Nothing of concern pierced him. She imagined others would find him nothing but formal, the perfect vessel of everything an Asha’man was meant to be, but the empty shell she perceived instead struck her strangely lonely. She wanted to reach for his calloused fingers, like the touch might breach the divide, pull him back to her, but she wasn’t sure she could weather the way he would simply ignore it. She watched him closely, pale eyes lambent in the moonlight. The stir of feeling was foolish, but she realised then that this might be a game she could not win. The odds stacked high. Jai would know better himself the calculations. But she also knew she would not run.

There was no hand held out this time. No smirk and tease. Just steadfast, stubborn devotion.

“Since you can’t tell me anything, you realise I’m coming with you.”

[[mode with permission]]