The Point of No Return

[Jay Carpenter]

Asha'man Kojima

“You’d better be fighting this, Jai.”

Of all the things Nythadri had been saying, this was the comment that tugged his profile from its focus. Bubbles of memory popped the surface. Of turning suddenly and finding the same icy eyes for the first time. He could stare into their swirls for an Age, he thought, and never discover all the facets of their color. In that moment, he blinked. Probably forgetting something important, but the concern for its loss slid away like melting ice. Dripping into snowmelt, puddled, then gone forever.

“Fight what?” he asked. “Its been a fight my whole life. I don’t think I’ve ever not been fighting. It’s really nice, actually. Not fighting,” he tapped his temple with his fingers. There was a short flash of self-deprecation, and lines formed crevices around the corners of his eyes when he smiled. Like sleeping under a pile of bricks only to realize how weightless it was once they were gone. He had fought enough battles for three lives, and the number of his age did not seem sufficient to capture all the years he’d walked. There was a different sword belted at the hip. The shape was familiar, but the details drastically different. His hand notably didn’t rest on the pommel as he walked, but then again, they turned into the courtyard about then, and the focus of the One Power required his attention.

The gateway was the same sliver of light that once brightened a nighttime beach. But this time, the other side revealed cold walls and dark stone. He turned to look at her one more time. The gate framed light behind him, her defiant gaze studying the destination beyond.

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

Moonlight trickled cold light from above. Torches sparked her hair to velvet folds. Light, she was so beautiful he was surprised he was breathing so steady. He’d wanted to talk to her so fiercely. There she was and now the chance came and he couldn’t quite remember what seemed so important. He considered her intent in silence. Contemplating whether or not it broke some rule.

“Did you ever move that money?” The question came from no where. Like a task requested of his father that he only now came around to finishing. Andreu was dead, so there would be no more digging into the connection with Lynn, Winther and Zakar. Ellis was out of the picture. After dropping him in Tar Valon, he’d not been seen since. That left Nythadri’s family fortune to account, and Zakar would be desperate to reignite his ambitions. There was no whisper of connections he wouldn’t use if he thought it would work.

Her answer cut sharp. But it didn't wound. Didn't leave so much as a mark. 
“That’s the first thing you want to ask me? I might be offended you think I wouldn’t keep my word.” He just stared at her. No sleeve tugging. No twitches. Waiting. Was that the question he wanted to ask earlier? 

And then she went on. "It’s back in my father’s hands. He has a notion to join House Vanditera with Winther to explain the newfound wealth. Not the first time he has proposed such a solution to his problems, but then I expect Oshara is a far better daughter than I ever was."

That was about the exact opposite outcome he intended. It wasn't Winther's money, but Aharon was Mathias' agent. But there was no frown of disapproval. Just a nod to indicate he understood. Problems for another day. He started to turn, but a sudden change of subject pulled a glance over one shoulder.

"I should have delivered the news in person, Jai. The reasons seem so trite now. I’m sorry that I didn’t."

The weight of that guilty stone skipped over the surface of his mind. One that couldn't even begin to process what it meant. There was nothing to fight. He just told her. Andreu was dead. Almost the worst possible outcome born from a plan to protect everything he loved. Vanditera was going to marry into Winther. It was a matter of time before Mathias figured it out. There only hope was that he did not want to risk a second, closer look by the Crown or ignite a truer reaction from the Black Tower.

"Hm." he murmured, blinked, then strode on through the gate.

The space beyond was confined as a stone coffin. And just as dark. He thoughtlessly spun up a few flames of light, settling them along walls smoothed by the brush of the One Power. There was a single bed in the corner. No blankets. No pillow. A table bare but for an old ink-bottle and broken pen. There wasn’t so much as a window nor a hearth. If an Asha’man couldn’t warm their room in winter, they dealt with it. The floor had been cleaned since he was last here. Not so much as a trace of bottles nor the smell of decay as he remembered. The crossed bars of the ironic medal remained on the table, though. Exactly where he’d left it. His gaze slid over it as he passed by, dismissing the temptation to hide it away. The oddity of a broomstick was propped in a corner.

The wardrobe was the last piece of furniture. Mostly empty, but whatever Jai was searching for, he found it soon enough, and tucked it into the depths of coat pockets. It was obvious this was his room. Or perhaps a tomb. Basically the same thing.

By then, the plan was set. He assumed Nythadri was going to follow, and nothing seemed to suggest that was a problem. Theirs was a quiet parade. Those passed paid no mind. Though the Aes Sedai earned a few extra nods now and then. It was a cold home. His steps carried him through twisting halls and erratic stairs. The Black Tower was not designed as the White had been, and the opposite of ornate. It was hardly a tower at all, but more a collection of add-ons. If he was lost in the White Tower’s sophisticated architecture, Jai knew exactly where he was going in the chaotic maze of the Black.

And it was down.

Soon enough, stairs creaking under foot spat them out into a basement. A Dedicated stood as the Asha’man entered. Jai didn’t recognize him, but he had little reason to know any of the current ones. Except that one....whatever his name was. The liquor stores were not far. In fact, they were probably better guarded than present space suggested. Seemed the Black Tower kept their priceless possessions underground.

Set into the back wall was simple door. Nothing like the vault it was. A tangle of threads overlaid its surface, thicker and more complex than any ward Jai had reason to even attempt to construct. It explained why there was a single Dedicated guarding it. Well. Less of a guard and more of a book keeper.

Jai studied the ward while the Dedicated looked between the two guests, confusion riddled his expression. None would be here unless they knew the secret to opening it, and the M’Hael revealed those keys to only a trusted few. Knowledge Jai did not possess. But that wasn’t going to stop him.

He glanced to the Dedicated.
“You can go,” he said. Standard procedure, the Dedicated saluted and slipped away. No middle ranking kid could learn the secret. He glanced at Nythadri as he passed, nodding his head for the ring on her finger. Lucky for him, there was nothing to suspect. But before he reached the door, the One Power swarmed and the Dedicated collapsed. Jai glanced at Nythadri, urging her to quietude with a simple look. Though he didn't think she would do anything to stop him, neither could he allow anything to halt what had to be done.

The kid wasn’t dead. But he would wake up with a headache for a few days. He couldn’t have the kid coming back in an hour to find out what was taking so long. Nor could he be interrupted. He might actually kill him if he did, and some anonymous Dedicated wasn’t the one he was after. Nor did he want to have to deal with finding a solution to the body should instinct blaze rash.

Bonds of the One Power pulled him toward the wall and made sure he stayed there should he rouse. More wrapped his mouth, but Jai was careful to keep his nose clear. It was a good way to suffocate an unconscious man. Next, Jai was at the ledger left behind. Records, was all, names and lists. But it wasn’t the information Jai wanted. It was the paper.

He ripped a wad from blank pages in the back, snatched the ink and quill, and dragged the table square in front of the door. Knot theory was a subfield in mathematics. It was the kind of toy that a kid whose mind raved for focus might occupy himself with for hours on end. Puzzle boxes and ropes. Opening and closing them a hundred times over. Predicting how to do it in the fewest moves possible. Knots were just numbers wrapped up in themselves.  A circle that had to open itself somehow. It just took knowing the right pattern.

Burning eyes flicked at the door then to the paper. Then up to door. Over and over again. Soon, parametric equations slanted randomly. Complex variables were defined. Letters and lines filled every inch of paper. The number of times the knot crossed on itself was captured, plugged into the longitude of a torus, multiplied by the geometry of meridian. He first had to determine if the knot of the ward was a circle, vector or a trefoil since the geometry required to untangle each was drastically different. Eventually mad scribbles eradicated what was worked out and the paper was shoved aside, falling to the floor like a tissue tossed on the wind. He started over, testing the next formula.

The ink bottle was near to empty by then. Which meant he had to dig around in his pocket for the spare taken from the wardrobe. This ink was cleaner. The black darker. It was higher quality than the stock stuff kept for the basement ledger. The marks of his penmanship was thin and sharp. Well accustomed to the frenzy of focus. When the next page was full, he grabbed another. And another. Until the papers were gone and he had to re-write over the top of the first page. Never mind that what was beneath was smudged to nonsense. The edge of wrist was nearly black by then. He frowned from time to time, scratching out wide swaths of work and starting again. Frustration and fear were far away. Only thought remained. A problem to solve the only way he knew how.

The equivalence problem explained how different knots of vastly different appearances may in fact originate from the same pattern. It was easy to distinguish in the program of numbers. Simply deform the knot into the number of crossings over itself. Count the number of twists. Represent it in a new way.

There was a way to calculate the number of moves it would require to untangle. The sequence of those moves was what differentiated one knot’s appearance from the next. Until you end up with the same basic shape hidden deep within. Once the topological form was known, it would be easy to pry apart. Just like a ward, you needed the key to open it. Problem was, if the threads of a ward had more than 23 crossings of the One Power, that meant it could take on more than a billion different shapes. Determining the base topography from something so vast was an impossible task to deconstruct. Even for him.

Polynomials worked though. By using knot invariates, mathematically, you could back-predict the origin of the shape, and once know the original knot type, infer exactly how to open it. The beautiful part was the math required the law of colorability, a mix and match of colors to the knot loops that formed a matrix. And in the case of the One Power, threads were easily replaced with colors.

The ward over the door was complex. It most likely originated from the mind of the M’Hael himself, and none alive should be able to open it without the key. If the M’Hael trusted a man with what was behind the door, the key would be shared and the door opened. None alive should be able to figure it out. Except perhaps the man curled over a table with ink up to his wrists and a head full of patterns. 

By the time the matrix table was half-filled, his posture had deteriorated to a curled lump over incomprehensible papers written layer upon layer over each other.  His breathing was slow and steady. Probably doing the best work of his life what with the cobwebs swept from the corners of his head. He had the clarity to check over his shoulder once in a while. To glance at the Dedicated to see if he’d woken yet. Nobody was coming, though, and he worked all the faster to complete the task.




[[Written with Nythadri]]