Crimsonthorn

[Kiyohito]

Vladamir Gaidin

Even as a lad, Vladamir was observant and contemplative. Perhaps the Wheel chose the Armendariz brother well when it bestowed prophecy upon the young son of Fal Sion; he was naturally suited to the place of a warder. After all these long years living in the White Tower, he was settled around Aes Sedai, and although he did not shed his formality, he was comfortable in their presence. It was from this place of quiet observation that he was witness to the subtle change in Malaika Sedai’s demeanor. Once the topic of conversation revealed itself, the weight of such melancholy talk transferred readily to him as though sharing it might relieve her some of the burden.

The muscles in his jaw flexed as he swallowed, thoughtful and reflective, and shifted his weight. A deep breath settled in his lungs before he began to speak.

“There was a woman in my father’s household named Mika. She was a midwife, I believe, but I did not know the business of the Women’s Apartments well enough to be certain. One day Mika came with child herself, but the story ended in tragedy. Her loss was great, and when she declared that she was da’mordero’mahdi *, my mother and father, my brother and I bore witness to the ritual. Then the gates were opened, and she walked into the Blight.”

He had been looking elsewhere while speaking. It was at this moment that he exhaled and looked back to her. Malaika Sedai was of the Brown Ajah, but he wondered if she was familiar with the Shienaran tradition.

“I was about ten years old, and I did not understand why we would stand back and do nothing while a woman sought to end her life.”

In the Borderlands, every soul was priceless, and Vladamir still wrestled with question, but in adulthood, he understood. “He said that when one declared da’mordero’mahdi, it is a mercy that they are not alone when they do.”

She would see the connection between the story and Andreu Kojima, and it wasn’t his place to point it out, but he himself was also witness to those final moments. The sense of loss she felt was shared by him. “Peace means something different to us all. It was a mercy you were there.”

He sought her downcast gaze, searching for recognition, though he assumed she would obscure such personal conclusions from a mere warder, but then something stirred in his mind. A hush befell the hall as other warders sensed what he did.

The massive doors swung open, and he slowly climbed to his feet. Kekura Sedai of the Red Ajah led a procession of twelve Sitters. He sought Caia’li’s eyes, but she was fixed on the leaders and did not glance his way.

“I am sorry to depart, Malaika Sedai, but I must go. May peace be with you.” His voice was as tight as what he felt in the bond. He bowed his head sharply and hurried after Caia'li to whatever fate awaited.



*Old Tongue, One who is seeking death