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Anastasia Riane Jordan Zatel
Profile Anya watched the lightning as it crashed silently in the distance. She loved how it lit up the sky and how it was so beautiful but so dangerous at the same time. Her books lay off to the side, open and flipped to various pages depending on the novel. One lay open on her lap, ignored as she stared off into space. They all contained the same thing, stories about battle. Anya loved the idea of fighting to save lives, she loved to get in the thick of things, loved the adrenaline rush of battle. Her father on the other hand, did not. He refused to let her speak of such things whenever they entered villages. He thought her ideas foolish and did not care for her entertaining them. His face always got stern and hard when she talked about riding into a war on a huge stallion, just as Birgitte Fairbow did. He also hated how she loved storms. But she knew that he would do anything to keep her happy. He was fiercely protective of her, she being the only other family he had. Sometimes when a storm would ride on their heels her father would ask her to take the reins of Gifter and he would stare into the dark clouds. His face always gained a pained look then and she knew he was thinking of her birthing day when her mother and brother had died. He blamed himself for their deaths and refused to give up the notion that he could have done something to save them. And Anya would leave him to it. She had given up trying to get his to dismiss it. She tried for years. He had been a merchant and living the nomadic life before she was born. And they lived it still, making their wagon into both a home and a means of money making. It was a considerably bigger wagon than the one her mother was lost in, but still a home. Anya wrinkled her nose and sighed when her father told her to close the curtain and go back to reading her books. He said even reading was better than her gazing out at storms. She rolled her eyes and gazed out one last time before pulling them closed. As fiercely as he loved her, she matched it with her love for him. They kept plodding on slowly, until she heard the sounds of little children. Grinning, Anya moved open the curtain and looked down at the small faces. They looked up at her in astonishment. She laughed down at them and handed down some candy. Putting a finger to her lips, she smiled again and pulled the curtain closed. She must tidy up before her father came to a halt. She had just enough time to put her books away and straighten up the shelves. She tucked a few stray strands of her long blonde hair behind her ears and set her books carefully in her trunk, odd pieces of paper sticking out from various pages where she had Birgitte descriptions marked, or very detailed battles. She ran her hand along the top of the trunk once just after she shut it, fingering the carved initials- the only thing she owned of her mothers. Her father booming voice started outside the wagon and Anya grinned again, listening to his story as she cleaned up the inside of the wagon. He always had a story to tell, he had the charisma of a gleeman and the reputation of a lord. He had worked himself up from the bottom and was now a respectable merchant in many different countries. But he had not a pompous attitude, Nathan Zalen knew what he had had to go through to get where he was and would never forget them, and made sure Anastasia did not either. For she would inherit his wagon and his trade when he died. It was the only thing she knew. Born to the noble name of Anastasia Riane Jordan Zatel, Anya had been a fast learner and trouble on two feet since she could walk and talk. Her mouth and feet had gotten her and her father in hot water more times than he could count over the years. But they were in life together and both shared equally- her talent for selling matched his own. And her youthful beauty helped when there were men around. Not that Nathan cared for that part, but Anastasia didn’t even notice. She just smiled with her white teeth, stared with her silver eyes, and played with a strand of long blonde hair hoping to make the sale. She smiled as she made her way over to the curtain, pulling it open to reveal several small faces. Hopping down, Anya held her the pockets of her violet dress closed, making sure that that what she held did not spill out. It was always her job to take care of the little ones. And as much as she hated having to wear dresses when they went to villages, she would do it for the children. As much as Anastasia loved battles, she loved kids. Her grin grew and she led them away from the cart a bit, promising the goodies her pockets held. Her father finished his story and set to work selling their possessions. Women came and fawned over the colorful silks, but very few buying any. Most bought wool in various colors. Anya knew that in this part of the country those colors were not common- it was as good as having those fine silks. Her silver eyes traveled back and forth between the children and the wagon. She saw the group of women leave, conversing to each other and one every now and then glancing back at her. Rolling her eyes, she looked down at the kids. Crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue, Anya made a face at the kids. Her giggles joined theirs and she handed out more treats. Her eyes moved back to the wagon, seeing a group of men standing there now, discussing something with her father. They appeared to be arguing. The girl kept her silver eyes trained on the sight, making sure that it was good natured haggling. When she saw a nod from her father, she backed down, the hairs on the back of her neck settling back down. She may be a woman, but she would do anything to protect her father. Sitting back down, she gleefully started to tell a story to the children about a wealthy woman and her affinity for birds. She was soon as wrapped up in the story as they so she didn't notice when the crowds died down around the wagon and mothers came to pick up their children. She was stilling telling the story when the last child left. Shaking her head out of her trance, Anastasia looked up and noticed her father clapping a man on the back. Gathering her things, she stood and walked over, hearing the very end of the conversation- that her father was hiring this man. Hiring him for what she did not know. Anya fell to the ground, her knees buckling at the gruesome sight that lay in front of her. Water flooded down the front of her; her tears could not fall fast enough. Her sight became blurred until she could only make out a large shape in front of her. But she knew what was there- she knew who it was and that made her stomach heave. She tasted the distinct taste of vomit for only a second before her dinner poured out of her. Lunch and breakfast followed. She emptied out everything that had been in her stomach and then some more. The dry heaves sent searing pain through her, but it was nothing compared to the pain she felt just by knowing what was sitting in front of her. When the coppery taste of blood began to leak into her mouth and spill out, Anastasia stopped heaving. She gasped for air, unable to imagine how anyone could have lived after seeing the death of a loved one. She was still bawling, the blurriness now welcome. She couldn’t face the corpse of her father. How he had been maimed. If she hadn’t heard it with her own ears, there would have been no way she could have known it was her father in front of her. Her hands groped blindly, trying to tie together what was left of her dress. Killing her father hadn’t been enough, they had had to strip her of her safety and pride as well. They hadn’t had an easy time with either one, but had gotten their way in the end. She settled into whimpers, tears still streaming down her face, before reason kicked in. She had to find shelter. You must gather you things and find shelter. Frostbite will not serve you, and your father would not agree to you ending your life to follow him. Anastasia, get up and get a move on. She pleaded with herself. Rubbing her eyes, and clearing tears away, she rose and walked away from her father’s mangled corpse. The wagon was in shambles, all of her father’s lovely possessions- his life…her life- gone or broken. Tears threatened to come again, but she forced them down. She would have to cry later. There was no telling what would happen to her if she stayed here. In the middle of the woods, a young girl, beaten. Not to mention her thin dress and bare feet in the cold winter snow. She climbed in carefully and rooted through the mess to find something that could aid her. Her father’s thick woolen cloak had been stolen, but her dark green one lay piled in a heap on the floor. She rushed over, picking it up and brushing it off. It fit her perfectly as she threw it across her shoulders, it hung neatly just above the ankle. The fur lining of the inside, and the hood, felt like heaven to her shivering body. It had been very expensive, and they had had to trade more for it than they ever had for something else, but Nathan had insisted on buying it for her. Her chin wavered as she thanked her father. The shelf that had been full of shoes was snapped in half and thrown across the wagon room, most of the shoes had been taken- though a few were cut up. One lone pair was left- once again they fit Anya. Made of thin material, they would not do much in the winter snow, but she could wear them some of the time- or use them to trade for something when she got to the nearest city. Anya grabbed a few more things as she rushed about the room- a blanket, some food, a few of coppers the robbers had left. She grabbed two of her favorite novels- both of which had silver pieces within the bindings and the covers. Lastly, she came to her trunk. It was kicked in on the left side, and tipped to reveal its contents. They had all been her mother’s and her father had trusted her to keep them safe. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, willing herself to keep the tears in until she found somewhere safe, somewhere where she could properly mourn. Three more deep breaths and she trusted herself to open her eyes and search through the remainder of the trunk. She found a delicately carved ivory mirror that had been cracked once down the middle, but was otherwise fine. She slipped it into the small bag she’d found, along with her other treasures. Several beautiful dresses laid on the floor, but Anya knew she could not take them. Grabbing the nearest one, she stuffed it into her pack. She might need something to change into. Kneeling next to the damaged trunk, Anya sifted through the smaller things. Everything was busted, taken, or not of great importance. She sighed and sat back on her heels, dragging out the lining to reveal the secret pocket that her father had only just told her about. Amazingly, it hadn’t been touched. Her heart beat a little faster as the young girl opened it and found two treasures that were jammed inside. The first, a small leather bound journal that bore a sun on the cover. The second, a tiny bag that held a gold locket and a pair of diamond earrings. Despite her shock, Anastasia shoved them into her pack and ran out toward the road. Away from the wagon and toward a new life. She walked all night long, only daring to stop and catch her breath when the sun came shining over the horizon. She felt stiff, and sick still, despite dry heaving all night long. When the city first came in sight, she nearly collapsed with relief. She felt the tears spring anew and held them back as she walked onto the well traveled streets and into the nearest inn. With her cloak swept across the front of her, Anya must have looked noble. The innkeeper swept away from the tables and toward her- her chubby face rolling into a fake smile. “What can I do for you ma’am?” She asked, her dark eyes quietly searching for a hand holding a bag of money. She didn’t seem to notice the red of Anastasia’s wind burned cheeks, or the stiffness in the way the girl walked. She also couldn’t see the purple feet that were hidden in the small brown leather shoes. “I’d like a room please.” The girl said quietly, fearing if she spoke any louder the tears would start to fall. “The cheapest you have.” She added as the innkeeper’s face slowly dribbled into a scowl. Her dark eyes seemed to want to eat the girl standing in front of her. She sighed and rattled off the amount. Anya tried to not let her surprise show at the steep price. She had never had to pay for shelter in her entire life. Sighing, she handed over more than half of the coppers she had gathered from the wagon floor and trudged upstairs after the serving woman the innkeeper had instructed to take her up. The room was tiny, but dry and secure. A real bed sat in the center, and a dresser stood off to one side. There was a bed stand with a large candle on it. Anya thanked the serving woman quietly and shut the door. She set her bag on the floor next to the bed and sank down, finally letting the tears come. It was hours before she could calm down enough to sleep. The next morning brought sunshine and a promise that she would be all right. When the afternoon sun shone on her face, Anya gave a start and then opened her silver eyes. She groaned at the stiffness of her limbs and the aching of her feet and fingers. Today she would have to find a job. If she wanted to keep having shelter, she would need money. And she would definitely run out soon. Gritting her teeth, she rose from the bed and walked over to her pack. The leather journal at the top of the bag, calling for her to read it. She picked it up and lovingly stroked the cover before tossing it onto the bed. First things first, if she was going to live, she would need money. And money meant a job. She slipped over the rags she wore and dropped the dark blue dress over her head. The soft material caresses her body as it fell over her. She tied the string behind, at waist level, and stepped over to the large mirror that was propped against the wall. She did not look like the damaged girl that had strode in the past morning. She looked almost regal. Cocking an eyebrow, she idly wondered which dress would get her the job. She muddled over the dresses as she brushed her long golden hair and tied it into a tight braid. The blonde shone even in the dim light. Biting her lip briefly, Anastasia grabbed her cloak and walked out of the room. The journal was waiting for her when she walked back into the room- exhausted. Who knew that finding a job would be such hard work? Of course, in a town this small her dress had stood out as royalty. It had taken time to find someone who believed her when she said she was not. And he may not have truly believed her, but he needed help and she needed a job. She collapsed on the bed, moving the journal to the nightstand. He had wanted her there early in the morning to start. She would be selling books; at least selling was something she knew how to do and books were things that she loved. Months passed before Anastasia had a chance to even crack the cover of her mother’s journal. By that time, she had settled into the small room on the west side of the bookshop. The old man lived in the east. He had shared with her everything he had, and treated her like a daughter. The tears still came, but she was slowly moving on. It was her seventeenth birthday and he had wanted her to have the day off. However, he gave her explicit orders that she was not to come down into the shop until it was half past. Laughing, she had agreed. So, she had set into cleaning her small room and then sat down in the ratty plush chair with her mother’s journal. 4th of Adar Today was my 16th birthday. I woke up this morning in a dither, all around me the servants were preparing for my party, but I had nothing to wear. I finally decided on my violet silk dress. It brings out the color in my eyes. At breakfast, mother and father gave me their gifts, but they didn’t know that keeping the boys away was enough of a gift! Mother gave me a new pair of fancy black shoes, and a dress hat to match. Father’s gift was nicely wrapped, and when I opened it, I discovered a true treasure. I am sure father expected me to be happier about the beautiful diamond earrings, but my excitement was turned towards the wonderful leather bound diary. The cover bears our family crest, but that still doesn’t distract from the pleasure of this gift. Anastasia stopped for a moment to ponder. Holding her place with her thumb, she looked at the cover of the diary. It was a rising sun. But this account mentioned all of these items as gifts for her mother’s sixteenth birthday, which would mean that her parents had been fairly wealthy! Anya continued to read, excited about what else she would find about her mother. She had not been a regular writer, but there was an entry for about every couple months. Most of them talked about small, insignificant things, but yet it was fun to read about her mother’s first crush, and school, and all the things that made up her everyday life. There was one entry about 6 months after the beginning that went like this… 24th of Shaldine Today my friend Elizabeth and I got to meet a real Aes Sedai. It was so exhilirating, but Kaidra Sedai told Elizabeth that she could channel. She has to leave for The Grey Tower tomorrow. I will miss her so. She is my best friend. I am happy for her, but I almost wish I could go too. I would much like to leave my fortune and my family to create my own way in the world. I hope Elizabeth remembers me when she makes it to Aes Sedai level. 15th of Taisham Well, Elizabeth has been gone for several months now, and Mother is increasingly becoming upset. There seems to be some sort of skirmish going on between her and Father (as if they never fought). Anyway, this means walking on eggshells for the time being as to not upset her. I am so lonely; I don’t have any friends now that Julia is gone. I hope she is doing well. 1st of Saven Well, I am 17 now, and the skirmish between my parents has only grown. If only the people of the city knew how they fought when they were together and alone. It makes me sad. They both missed my birthday, we didn’t even have a celebration. But I don’t care, I don’t really have anything to celebrate. I seem to be the only one upset by the fighting, however, my brothers don’t seem to mind. 2nd of Saven Today there was a huge fight between Mother and Father. I was told that he found someone else in her quarters and they…well, he wasn’t decent. I really don’t know why Mother does these kinds of things to Father, it only makes her look bad and it hurts him. I went to her today, on his behalf, but she refused to listened to me. Some of the things she called me are still cutting wounds into me and I refused to list them. As far as I am concerned, she is not my mother anymore. At this point Anya could see where large teardrops had smudged the ink. For several minutes, she felt the ache that her mother had felt. But she read on, hoping life would get better. 27th of Maighdal Father and I are learning to get along without speaking to Mother. She pretty much stays holed up in her quarters while we carry on the everyday duties. I have had to take over as the woman of the house because she cannot seem to sort herself out. She doesn’t try to hide it now, doesn’t care if we can hear her and her men. It makes me sick. I do wish that Father would find himself a new love and remarry. I think Father may be on the verge of consumption. Everyday he looks more and more depressed, I wish I could do something to make him smile. On the bright side, I got a letter today from Elizabeth; She is doing well in the tower, and is learning a lot. She says she can juggle colored balls of light, but I can’t picture it. Why would you need to know that? 4th of Adar Today was my 18th birthday. My mom didn’t get leave her quarters today either. Father looks sicker by the day, I am incredibly worried about him. I think I am the only one. I think, however, that some of his worry is if I will find a good husband. I am 18, with little prospects at the moment. I did walk out into the streets today, looking for a present for father and met someone. He is the son of a merchant and very handsome. I think he was as taken with me as I was with him- he offered to take me away and show me the world. Part of me wishes I had the courage to get up and go with him. I’m being so foolish, thinking this about a man I just met, but something within me yearns… 15th of Taisham My dear Anastasia, I am writing this entry to you, because I fear I will never make another entry in this beautiful diary my father gave me. My one wish for you is that I could give you such a gift as my father gave me. For me, it was to have a constant “friend” in whom I could write all my troubles, all my sorrows, hopes, and joys. My gift to you at this time is thus. We are now approaching the middle of the winter. This winter has been especially hard on all of us. I suspect it will be especially hard on you. You will likely be thrust into adulthood much sooner than I would care for. Take care of Nathan for me, he likes to get in over his head. And always make sure you know how much I love you and your father. You are not yet born but have already given me much happiness. As you may have read, the earrings and the locket that were tucked in with this journal were the second part of my father’s gift to me. They are now yours. In this journal, you may also have learned the truth about your family. Yes, it is true. Your destiny lies within the royalty of Cairhien. I wanted to shield you from the pettiness and the hurt that came with the money, but no doubt you have grown into a wonderful young woman and your father would give you this only when he thought you were ready. Here is the most important part of my gift to you. The guards at the gate will recognize the locket immediately. I want you to go to Cairhien and learn of your past and your future. Tell Father that I love him very much still and that I never meant to hurt him as I did. He will take care of you, I know it. If you will not do it for yourself, do it for me. Anya shut the journal as the words of her mother’s past ended. She placed her head in her hands, trying to make sense of all the she had read. It was impossible to believe. She opened the book and reread the worn pages again, still she could not figure out why her mother had chosen this age to tell her. Why let all the time go by? She bit her lip and stared out the window, her thoughts racing. A knock at her door startled her, although it was made with a gnarled, old hand. She set the journal on the bed and crossed the room to find Master Knarp holding a large box and smiling underneath his bushy white eyebrows. She smiled sadly and invited him to come in. He shook his head, protesting that she would want to be on her way and he would not interfere. The startled look on her face must have given away her surprise, but Master Knarp simply smiled mysteriously and wished her a safe journey. As he walked down the hall, he told her his best horse was waiting around the corner- fully ready for travel. Finally the day came; it was the 2nd day of Maighdal. Anya stared at the gates with a blank look on her face. It occurred to her that she was just stalling the moment her soul feared more than death. What if he hated her, what if he sent her away, or worse, cared for her out of duty, where she could see the hatred in his face day after day? She gulped and walked forward purposefully. The guards at the gate ignored her until she stood right in front of them. The taller one peered down at her then, a sneer on his face. “What do you want?” He asked in a cold voice. She bit her tongue, trying not to say anything she would regret. Her tongue sometimes ran away with her- especially on those months of traveling. “I’m here to see Master Menad, about this.” She pulled the locket from beneath the neckline of her dress and held it toward the guard, her fingers still clasped about it. He looked at her with surprise and swung the gate open. “Right this way Ms. Menad.” Anya looked at him strangely, but obeyed. She stepped about the gate gracefully and tucked the locket back under the neckline of the deep purple dress she was wearing. It had been the gift from Master Knarp on the day she left. She prayed that her grandfather would be as kind as her own father and the bookstore owner. The guard led her to the door of the large house where he knocked on the door and flagged down a woman dressed in a simple light blue dress and a white apron. He awkled over to her and spoke a few words, leading both of them to stare at Anya before separating. “Right this way ma’am.” The woman said, at least fifteen years older than Anastasia. She led her down one long sparsely decorated corridor and into another. After awhile Anya lost all her urge to turn around and run. If she had, she would have been instantly lost anyway. Finally they reached a door, and Anna knocked lightly. “Come in.” said a deep voice, and Anya swallowed hard. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. The door creaked open; Anna walked in, and motioned for her to follow. She realized that she must look terrified as the woman came back over and put a reassuring arm on her shoulder as she led her into the room. Suddenly she saw him, her grandfather, and tears threatened to spill. There, sitting in a large wooden chair, was all that was left of her family. All fear left her at the kind look in his face. “This young lady says she has something for you to see, and personally I agree with her. “ said Anna in a kind tone. The man leaned forward slightly with his hands on his knees. Anya again felt the urge to run, but then he spoke. “It’s ok, I don’t bite, now come show me what it is that has brought you here.” A twinkle flared in his grey eyes, in the grey eyes that matched her own so well. Looking down at the floor, she slowly pulled the necklace from under her dress and unfastened it. Holding it out, she began an explanation. “My mother…all I have left…” she couldn’t go on. When all that followed was silence, she chanced a glance up, just for a second. What she saw surprised her a bit, though it shouldn’t have. There was an instant recognition in his face, a sad and awed look in his eyes. As quickly as she had glanced up, she looked back down at her shoes, but she was still close enough to touch the regal chair he sat in. Suddenly a gentle hand reached out and lifted her chin up so that she had to look in his eyes. She tried to tilt her head so her blond hair would cover the tiny white scar above her left eyebrow, but as soon as she saw his face, that was forgotten. What she saw there was a love so pure it couldn’t be described. It was the same love that had always been in her father’s eyes. Though they were not related by blood, they had many of the same characteristics. The memories came quickly to Anna, as she hurried down the stone streets to The Queen’s Wardrobe. She remembered Suzannah well. The fated daughter of the house, who had run from Cairhien, She had stunned the house and the people immediately. Her beauty had only been surpassed by her grace and charm. Breane Menad had reconciled with her husband later that year and produced another son as a promise of a new beginning. Suzannah had been all but forgotten by the entire house publicly, only her father and the men who had never asked her hand wished she would return. The last two months had been all a blur for Anastasia. She had gone to see her grandfather, and had found an entire family she never knew of. Her grandmother was a cold and distant woman, but her grandfather made up for that. She relished the time spent with him. He regaled her with stories of his children when they were growing up- particularly her mother and his youngest son, Davin. Anya giggled as she remembered the story he told her about Davin’s older brothers- her uncles- and the time they decided to play Sea Folk with their baby brother. He had almost not made it out of the washtub alive. The hem of her new blue dress swept the floor of the corridor. The halls and corridors were beginning to become familiar, at least the ones she used regularly were. Anya thought back to that night when she had read her mom’s diary. She thought back to several entries that had intrigued her then. She had been awed that her mother had decided to run away from all she knew, and then it turned out when she thought she would never have a true home again, she found an entire family to which she belonged. She had been awed that her mother had met Aes Sedai, but today she would meet one. The Aes Sedai had arrived the night before, and Anastasia had been up in her rooms at the time. She had more two rooms to herself and several nice outfits. Today she was wearing her best blue silk with the tiny jewels embroidered on it. Finally, after what seemed like forever, she reached the dining hall. It was decorated especially for the large feast to be held in honor of the Aes Sedai. The table was spread with so many wonderful things, things she had only dreamed of. Anya looked around. Her grandfather and grandmother were already there, speaking to the Aes Sedai. Again Anya marveled at her fortune. She had a family into which she was welcomed and a wonderful grandfather who loved her. His grey eyes, that he had passed on to his daughter and then her, sparkled, and his dusty blonde hair was starting to thin. He stood quite a bit taller than she did, but she supposed she took after her mother in that, a 4’11” she was shorter than everyone she knew. Suddenly her grandfather noticed her standing there, and motioned her to come stand next to him. Anya’s eyes widened as she looked at the face of the woman who could call fire and make balls of colored light dance. Her face was ageless, that is no one could have put an age to her features, and she smiled at Anastasia. Suddenly she realized what her grandfather was saying. “This is my granddaughter Anastasia Riane, she was raised by her father, and only returned to me a couple weeks ago, it is a long story.” Anya looked up at him in shock. He was talking about her, and the Aes Sedai was commenting on her beauty! Then it happened. “I believe she has the spark,” the Aes Sedai said. “I believe she will need instruction in order to touch the true source.” the rest went by in a blur, and all she made out was Tower, novice, two weeks, and necessary. By the end of the conversation, the Aes Sedai was completely sure. The two weeks sped quickly by, and Anya got to know the Aes Sedai a little better, she was kind, and understanding. Anya also made it a point to spend much of her time with her grandfather as she could. Finally the big day came, and her grandfather had one of the servants pack up her new outfits. He had had 5 new dresses made for her to use on her journey. They were all split for riding, and that made Anya even more excited. She had loved riding horses since she was little. Her father used to let her ride Bonnie, their lead horse, when they were on long journeys, or between cities. The day was bright and cool, winter would be coming soon, and it was the Aes Sedai’s plans to make it to the Tower before the cold set in. Five horses were tied up, and bundles were tied to their backs. One appeared to be a packhorse, and the others weren’t hard to figure out. There was the Aes Sedai’s sleek grey mare, and her warders horses, but the fourth one Anastasia could only imagine was hers. A tan mare stood with the others, her head held high, as if she didn’t know yet that she wouldn’t be carrying the Aes Sedai himself. Anya’s gray riding dress swooshed as she walked towards the horse to make friends. She remembered when her father had bought Flamer- he had told her that this was the most important part. The horse had to know who was being carried. He had always taught her that emotions were vital to riding a horse- a horse is susceptible to the feelings you are experiencing. Finally it was time to leave, and with a little help from her grandfather, she mounted. It felt weird to be sitting on such a fine horse, and the expensive clothes only added to the feeling. The weeks passed quickly, and before she knew it, she heard talk around the morning fire that they would reach The Grey Tower that afternoon. All day Anya kept an eye out for the city, and about mid afternoon, she was rewarded with her first sight of the Grey Tower. The Tower shone as the winter sun reflected off the multitude of glass. Two flags flapped in the slow cold breeze of the midafternoon. It was clear to see why it was called the Grey Tower, with the numerous wide grey pillars that upheld the beautiful structure. It was evening before they entered the tower grounds and dismounted. Anastasia said goodbye to her new friend and took her small bundle. She followed the Aes Sedai into the tower and again she found herself lost in the labyrinth of corridors, and was glad for someone who knew the way. She had grown up in the back of a merchant’s wagon and all of a sudden was thrown into these large homes- or towers- where every room was twice the size. It was quite a change. Suddenly they stopped, and Marjorie Sedai turned to her and spoke. “This is the office of the mistress of novices, I suspect you will come to know it well. Be silent until you are spoken to, and you will do well.” Then, Marjorie Sedai raised her hand and knocked loudly three times…
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