The Familial Mutt

[Eidolon]

Malaika Sedai, Brown Ajah

By the time bath water and fresh clothes had arrived, Kasimir had fallen asleep in his chair.  Malaika directed the servants amidst the sound of soft snores; she didn’t have the heart to wake him, and besides, she preferred that the servants did not overhear anything he had to say. Not until she had decided what to do about his presence, anyhow, or at least found out what his intentions were now he had asked his questions. She was not sure which she minded more; that the servants assumed she entertained men in her rooms (especially those as scruffy as he) or if they should know that she was related to such a vagrant. An Aes Sedai’s business was her own, but her reputation rested in the hands of others.  She was not sure why it bothered her so much, but it was a relief when her doors finally closed. The water had been filled in a tub in an adjacent room, but Malaika decided to let Kasimir sleep; she could reheat the water later, and for now she was glad to have a moment’s respite from the strange events of the day.

Her work was still laid out on the table, but she lacked the concentration to return to it now. Whatever momentum she gained would only be stalled once again when her guest awoke. For a moment she watched him sleep, and thought of Chakai, and but she did not wish to fall into those memories again. In the end, she pulled a thin volume from one of the shelves against the wall and settled into an armchair. It was a collection of regional tales; the sort that hardly ever got written down, but had been collected as a labour of love by her ajah sister, Adira. It was something of a fascination for the Brown, and one that Malaika shared to a lesser degree.  Many she read for the first time, since the tales of Seanchan varied greatly from those on the continent.

Kasimir

He awoke and wondered where he was. The first thing he saw was the Aes Sedai, curled in an armchair like a child with a book spread out on her lap, and then he remembered where he was. For a second he wished he’d woken on a doorstep with a broom in his ribs. Blood and ashes, how did I manage to fall asleep? He did not exactly hold much faith in the White Tower and its denizens; he must’ve been more exhausted than he’d even realised. Light! Malaika’s head did not move, but her eyes flicked up from the pages as he sat forward, rubbing his face. Rest had done nothing to clear his senses, only serve to remind him that he was tired.

“A bath is ready,” she said. “Through here.”

She led him into a room decorated in the same mish-mash of style and furniture as the first, but the bath tub at its centre was what drew his attention. The water appeared stone cold at first glance, but then heat rippled the surface. He glanced back at Malaika, but she was already closing the door behind her. He couldn’t be bothered to care whether she had used the power, and set about stripping his clothes. An impromptu nap really had seemed to do nothing but befuddle his mind further; he could quite happily sleep from now through to next morning.

The water was a little scalding, but he slipped into it gratefully. Hands hanging either side of the tub, he sank into the warmth all the way up to his chin. Thoughts ran hazily through his mind. His father, mostly; flickering memories of the night he had watched him speak with the Seanchan Aes Sedai. And their last conversation. Neither thought nor memory stayed long enough to make sense of; rather they raced a mile a minute, carving an ache into his temples that even the roiling stream of the bath could not remedy. Kaz submerged his whole head and wished he hadn’t bothered to wake up.

Malaika Sedai, Brown Ajah

Malaika returned to her book while she waited for him, but by now her mind only managed to dip briefly back and forth between the pages. After reading a passage three times and still finding herself none the wiser to its content, she finally relented to putting the book to one side.  She was not sure she was comfortable with him staying at the Tower, but equally knew that she could not force him to leave.  Perhaps her reasons were even selfish. That was not a pleasant thought, but she did not shy away from it. Is it selfish?  He reminded her so vividly of her confrontation with Chakai, of her own failings. For all his rakish behaviour Kasimir had done nothing to her; in fact, she had barged into his life, and while there had clearly been seeds of discontent planted long before her arrival, she had been the catalyst.  She had caused this chain of events the moment she had returned to the Nevaren household, and this was but one more repercussion of her own actions.

The door opened and Kasimir immerged, a towel in his grasp, mouth opened to speak.

“Light!” Malaika whipped the book out in front of her and averted her eyes. “There are clothes in there.”

“Oh.” He ran his free hand over his damp hair and yawned. “Okay.  Thanks.”

As he turned back into the room, swinging the door shut behind him, she slammed the book back on to the armrest. Blood and ashes, that was a view she could have done without. Mannerless idiot. Her thoughts had all scattered, and some of the irritation had returned.  She didn’t need this complication in her life, nor the distraction from her studies. Yet she felt responsible for his predicament. Chakai made him leave, she recalled him saying bitterly. Perhaps she might work towards a reconciliation, but she was afraid to interfere again. Her priorities were the Tower, her Ajah... Light, she was no Blue. Whatever Kasimir had done to get himself banished from his own family home, it was none of her concern.

Except suddenly she remembered, all too vividly, her own banishment. Idly, she stroked at her neck, where the collar had once pinched at her skin. It's hardly the same thing...

When she looked up again, he was loitering in the doorway.  Clothed, this time, she was pleased to see.  Beneath tendrils of damp hair he still looked immeasurably tired, though at least now he was clean-shaven and fresh. The clothes the servants had procured were plain and fit well enough, though Kasimir had neglected the buttons on the cuffs of the shirt. He smiled at her; a rather half-hearted effort, but for that brief moment looked so like Chakai that it startled her.

“You should get some proper rest.”

“That woman--”

“Gaidar,” she corrected. He nodded.

“Yeah… gaidar, right. She arranged accommodation for me. I won’t be a burden anymore than I have to be.”

He was a burden, and yet she felt somewhat guilty that he should call himself that.  She might have offered him space in her own apartments, just until he was well rested, but she was somewhat relieved to see he had no desire to stay. Rather than reassuring him, she nodded. Though she had her own questions - she still didn’t fully understand what had driven him here - they could wait.  If he should run, she could live with that. The Tower is my family… 

“Very well…” Malaika hesitated, then stood from her chair.  She would need to speak with Eithne. “But we’ll speak again tomorrow, Kasimir.”

He nodded and she followed him to the door.  Her pale hand paused on the handle, and she glanced up at him. Looking at him now, even though his eyes were dark as onyx, she couldn't see how she'd ever missed his resemblance to her brother. Even his confident, carefree mannerisms were the same; the way he smiled when there was nothing funny, or quipped when it was entirely inappropriate. As charming as that might be in Ebou Dar, it would do him no favours among the sisters.

“Rules,” she said firmly. “Be respectful to all you meet. Don’t take any chances, and do not start any trouble. You’ll not get away with using my name to save yourself a second time.”

He laughed despite her seriousness. “Me?”

“Kasimir…”

“Of course.” He dipped a bow, hand over his heart, but when he rose again he was grinning from ear to ear.  “Auntie.” 

The word took her aback, and this time she was sure if showed through her expression, if only in the slight widening of her eyes. It was obvious, of course; his father was her brother. Kasimir was her nephew. And yet she had not thought about it in those terms before. Auntie. She was not accustom to terms of endearment; not many were ever so familiar with her. Light. The blood family she coveted was staring her right in the face, grinning like a light forsaken idiot. And Creator above he looked so like Chakai just now; so much that her stomach flipped.

“You mustn’t call me that,” she murmured. “Not in public.”

“Of course,“ he said again, and winked; a gesture she choose to ignore as she twisted the handle and opened the door into the hallway.