Collecting on a Wager

[Jay Carpenter]

Asha'man Jai Kojima
The White Tower
The 3rd Age

There was nothing for it.  The White Tower it was.  As long strides carried him across the marble tiles, Jai could think of one or two better things to do with the morning than tour the front hall, or counting how many steps it took to carry him inside, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.  The feel of a Razor's gait waited.  No artist could paint it and no story could recreate it.  In living form, a seasoned rider sitting on the back of a razor had such grace that all else was lost to it.  And that was something an Asha'man could appreciate.  Losing oneself to the rhythm.  Besides, he won that bet fair and square.

He took up a place and waited, waving off what Novice and Accepted sparked the courage to approach a man leanly cut in head-to-toe fine, Asha’man black, offering each a modest smile for doing so.  Perhaps a tad less modest for one or two lingering women who kept glancing his way.  Figuring it must be the sword, he tapped the balanced scabbard at his side and flashed an encouraging smile their way this time around.  There was no point being unfriendly after all. 

That he was a few minutes early spoke some measure toward anticipation, but there was no outward unease to his wait.  He was a man raised to be right on time, where a few minutes late was the same discretion as a few minutes early.  It all goes back to the numbers.  And probability.  And with today's dawn, they were stacked in his favor.  So far.

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It didn’t take a man in the habit of counting the seconds between steady breaths to know more than a few minutes had elapsed. He tried not to think about the punctuality of this particular situation. His own breech in coming a few minutes early or the Aes Sedai’s for arriving a few too late. Instead, he funneled his thoughts into keeping his fingers from drumming the lacquered sheathe corded to his belt: an antique, curved blade otherwise lost against the sea of silky black wool. Standing as he was with hands clasped behind his back and studying a mural of sparkling glass tile, there was little outward evidence of what he was doing. Indeed, Jai was absolutely not counting those glass tiles. Just because he didn’t realize his lips were moving in pace with his eyes. He wasn’t counting.

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Okay, he was counting.  He couldn't be any more bloody obvious than if he had a sliderule and was flicking beads up and down the wires like some master bard plucking harp cords.  Not that he needed such an amateur's tool to keep track of numbers.  By now his neck was craned back to a goodly angle as ever-fascinated eyes climbed the colored border while fingers behind his back moved in a rhythm mimicking the arithmetic filling out his head.  At least this time the compulsion to count led to something useful besides relief.

The mosaic itself was the pinnacle of artistry any Tar Valoner living in the world of sculpture and ogier mastery would appreciate.  Including Jai.  But the mosaic was not the art which held his interest.  Indeed, it was a nice piece of art.  That was all.  The mastery, he came to realize, was in the tiny glass squares framing the border from floor to lofty ceiling.

A simple repeat of five white squares, one square, and a space.  Five-one-one.  It added to seven.  Repeated over and over.  A hollow smile started to glaze his expression.  He kept counting.  He knew what would happen when repeated numbers were divided by the perfect primes.  Without ceasing to study, he asked anyone who was around.  Likely nobody was paying attention to a lone Asha'man fascinated with nothing like some relic of the tainted days when their kind were gripped in the throes of madness; maybe some still were, but that was beside the point.  He'd be surprised if anyone answered.  It was worth a shot. 

"Anyone know exactly how high the ceiling is?" 
Considering the importance of the number seven to the White Tower, he'd wager a guess down to the fraction of an inch.

He squinted.  Repetitive numbers such as 511,511 were always divisible by the perfect primes: 3, 7, 11, 13 and resulted in beautiful numbers.  Such as 73,073.  If the pattern was repeated 730.73 times, then the height of the ceiling would be 23.9740814 feet (23 feet 11 & 11⁄16 inches).