Chapter Two: Gambit

Dali's limbs were stiff, her legs shaky, but she paced determinedly in what little space the tiny cell offered. It wasn't so very small, really. It was larger than her kennel in Ebou Dar. But she'd never gone so long without being exercised, and her limbs were complaining the lack. She had tried to coax Aiala into some movement as well, but the other damane's eyes were glassy and blank, they had just stared through her. Dali could not remember the last time she had spoken.

It had been over a day since the girl-marath'damane had come with her offer, and Dali was no closer to seeing an escape from their trap. But she was certain there was one, and the knowledge had lit a little spark of hope in her heart. The one thing Dali was certain of was that she would not remain here. Somehow, though she could not imagine how, she was going to return to the Empire, to sanity and to purpose.

Pace. It was cold. The nights were bitter, and the days chill. Pace. Dali might know nothing of maps, but she knew that meant Tar Valon was to the north of Ebou Dar. Pace. It had taken five days by to'raken to reach Tar Valon. That meant it was...how far away on foot?

Too far. Days-worth of frustration bubbled over, and Dali aimed a kick at their covered dirt-bucket before thinking better of it and attacking some innocent straw instead. Yellow stalks rained down around her legs, and Dali stared at them, shocked. How long had it been since she had last given in to temper? Dali was a good damane, not some girl just collared, still weeping and throwing tantrums! But fury still simmered in her veins, and she longed to lash out at something, anything. Everything was wrong, it wasn't supposed to be like this! What business did a damane have making plans? Where were the sul'dam to tell her what to do? They were supposed to protect her, not leave her to rot in some dungeon! Where were they?

The rage subsided and Dali slumped down into her pile of straw, hiding her face in her hands. Her face was hot with shame, and tears welled up in her eyes. How could she think something so awful? How could she curse the sul'dam who had looked after her so well? It was this place - it was driving her mad, as she had feared it would. If only Dani were with her, she could have borne it, borne anything. But Dali was alone. She had never had to face anything alone.

(What would Dani say?)

(She would say we are Dani-and-Dali and there is no enemy Dani-and-Dali cannot fight!)

It was true. They had sometimes seemed to be of one mind. Not as sul'dam and damane were, sharing Power and sensation, two beings becoming one weapon. Nothing could compare to that. But When Dani fought beside her, Dali knew where the earth would explode even before Dani set the weave; Dali knew that if she spun Razorwhips, they would be aided by Dani's Firegouts; if Dani spun Spikes to the enemies' right flank, Dali knew to send the same to the left. Both of them could fight well paired with any damane, but with each other there was no need even to speak.

Dani must be here, Dali decided. She is in Ebou Dar, but we are always Dani-and-Dali.

They could not speak now. But that did not matter. Dani is with Dali.

The sul'damwould not have approved, but the thought was warm coal in her heart, and Dali opened her eyes and blinked away her tears. The cell looked the same as ever, but it was less fearful now, somehow.

She rose and made her way over to Aiala. The girl would fall ill soon, if she was not taken care of. The marath'damane were ignorant, to look after them so poorly. Well, Dali would see Aiala drank some water, and share the warmth of her body.

She still had no idea how they were going to escape. But she would. Dani-and-Dali could do anything.

~/~

Dali stood up when the new marath'damane came in to relieve the one who had sat the night-duty. Dawn was only a pale glimmer in the sky, but she had heard distant gongs; they rang several times a day, to announce the hour. The day had begun.

The marath'damane looked over, surprise on their faces. Dali had never stood to greet them before, and for a moment, Dali worried that they might think she did them some honour. But she did not let it distract her. It had been surprisingly difficult to bring herself to speak to them at all. As the Empress' personal property, it would have been unusual enough for her to have spoken to a common damane, never mind a...marath'damane. But speak she must.

"You will let Dali out." She told them.

They blinked at her as though she had spoken nonsense. Dali gritted her teeth. Would she have to repeat herself? Some of those on this side of the ocean couldn't seem to understand perfectly clear speech.

No. The marath'damane exchanged glances, and with a murmur, the one who had just entered took the shield from the other, and sat down on the stool. The one who had stood the night-watch left. Neither of them spoke a word to Dali.

She couldn't believe it. The marath'damane had given her word!Before witnesses! Surely, even Aes Sedai could not be this...this dishonest! After she had forced herself to speak to them! Dali stood, rooted to the spot, near to shaking with indignation, staring at the remaining marath'damane.

They would not let her leave? After swearing that they would?

Well, Dali had sworn no oath. They would not let her leave? Try to stop her! One marath'damane was not enough to hold a shield on two damane of any strength. Confident of victory, Dali stretched out to the Source, expecting to tear through the feeble shield like a rotten sail. She would rip the bars out of the cell, and the stones out the wall, and the Light preserve any who put themselves in her path!

Dali grunted with surprise when she struck a shield stronger than any she had ever felt. Even Sera couldn't have spun a block this thick, and she was one of the strongest damane Dali had ever met! Heart chilling, Dali tried again to fill herself with the Power, but no matter how she strained, the shield never wavered. Icy fear filled her belly, as it had not for many days; she had watched these marath'damane come and go for days, and had almost forgotten that they were Aes Sedai. She remembered, in a flash, the tales she had been frightened with as a child – how Aes Sedai had been able to call old, dark powers. The terrible secrets they had guarded, things best forgotten. But if even weak Aes Sedai could spin weaves stronger than anything Dali had ever felt...

Dali had to escape! They had badly underestimated these marath'damane, and a warning had to be carried back to the Corenne!

The marath'damane felt her attempts, of course. Her eyes first widened, then narrowed, fixing Dali like spearpoints. The damane wavered and tried to swallow, but her mouth was now as dry as dust. Determined to retain at least some composure, she turned, staring at the pale wall of her cell. Her heart was racing. She hadn't been this terrified since her first day in this cell.

Dali did not reach for the Source again. She could feel the eyes of the marath'damane boring into her back. Staring at her. And the Light alone knew what else.

(No escape)

With her face hidden, Dali did not feel shame when she could not stop the tears from coming. She had been so sure – even with no idea of what to do or where to go, she had still known that the first step must be to leave this cell. But she had been stopped before she could even begin. Would she never see home again? Would these cold walls be the last sight she ever saw?

(Will Dali be hereforever?)

Defeat was a bitter taste in her mouth, and Dali paid no attention when the door swung open again. A servant to bring the marath'damane tea, likely. Soft footsteps sounded across the stone floor.

"So. One of them speaks?"

Dali started, and couldn't stop herself from looking around. It wasn't a servant, but a marath'damane, wearing fine yellow silk.

"That one, Rosil." The sitting marath'damane indicated Dali, and she felt her heart clench in her chest. "And she wasn't happy when we didn't open the door on the instant," she added, a sneer in her voice. "Tried to break through the shield."

Oh Light. Dali cursed her own stupidity in even speaking to the marath'damane. What was going to happen now? What did this new marath'damanewant with them? What hideous Aes Sedai trap had she entangled herself in? Her back thumped the cold wall of the cell, but there was no escape from those eyes. Light be merciful, Dali will be a gooddamane, a good damane –

"Really? She doesn't look like she wants to go anywhere." The marath'damane sounded doubtful, though with their accents, it was difficult to tell. "Well, girl?" she addressed Dali. "Do you want to stay where you are, or are you ready to come out and make something of yourself?"

Dali blinked.

(What?)

Was she hearing things?

The marath'damane was looking at her, waiting for a response.

(The Aes Sedai will keep their word?)

Dali met the eyes of the marath'damane who had spoken to her. She felt as though her muscles had been replaced with wooden boards, but somehow, she was able to manage a jerky nod. Her legs wanted to buckle.

The marath'damane smiled. Dali felt her blood turn to ice. This is a trap! Her mind howled. Aes Sedai! You cannot trust Aes Sedai!

But there was no choice. Not if Dali was to return home.

The door to the cell opened at the top. The marath'damane channeled, and a section of the bars opened along an invisible hinge. They screeched horribly.

Ropes of Air appeared around Dali's middle and under her arms. She yelped, terrified, and tried to pull away. They were going to pull her out with the Power, as though fishing a barrel out of the ocean? She felt sick. No, please – a ladder, a rope, not this –

Aiala screamed.

Dali, already badly frightened, shrieked herself when the other damane flung herself bodily out of the corner she had hardly left, and wrapped herself around Dali's legs. Her grip was like iron. Dimly, she heard the marath'damane curse softly, but she was consumed with trying to pry Aiala's hands from around her knees. The girl was babbling, sobbing, and Dali could only just make her out.

"Don't leave Aiala alone, please don't leave Aiala, Aiala will be a good damane,Aiala will take the exercise and eat the food but pleasedon't –"

"Aiala –" Dali tried to interrupt, but the other damane was beyond listening. She was hysterical.

The ropes of Air dissolved, and Dali was able to crouch and wrap her arms around the other girl. Aiala was shaking. She smelled of too many days without washwater, and her eyes were huge and terrified. "Don't go, please don't leave Aiala alone," she kept whimpering, and nothing Dali could say would soothe her.

Come with me, Dali wanted to say. But one look at Aiala's fear-sickly face was enough to tell her that the other damane would not be able to walk five steps beyond this cell. She did not understand. A good damane waited for her sul'dam, but they would wait forever if Dali did not –

"– will be a good damane,please Dali, please Dali –"

Dali must go, she kept repeating, and Dali will bringsul'dam, Aiala will not be alone, but every time Dali managed to pull one hand from around her legs, the other wrapped around them again, like twistvine. It took the marath'damane weaving Air to pull Aiala off for long enough to lift Dali out of the cell, and when she did the other damane fell to the floor and clutched great handfuls of straw and howled, a harrowing wail of desperation and misery. It was a sound to haunt nightmares.

The barred door fell shut with a clang, making Dali jump. She was trembling, flinching at every one of Aiala's cries, and her throat was dry with fear. Light, maybe it would have been better to wait for rescue, because Dali had no idea, no idea what she was going to do next, and the marath'damane were both looking at her, weighing her up. This had all been a mistake, a huge mistake, and Dali was the greatest fool who had ever lived for thinking she could play with these Aes Sedai schemes. They were going to do something terrible, Dali knew it –

The shield vanished.

Dali's knees buckled and she nearly fell. The yellow-clad marath'damane caught her, and Dali flinched back from the touch, stumbling back towards the cell. No. No, they could not do that, they could not leave her unprotected, surely they would tie it, at the least, but they could not mean to leave her unshielded! Horror and panic tore at Dali, her breaths coming fast. Black spots were dancing in front of her eyes.

(Is Dali a gooddamane?)

A familiar voice. An old memory.

Dali closed her eyes. Maybe she could pretend the shield was still there. She could still feel channeling. Yes.

(Always a gooddamane?)

Her breaths steadied. Not marath'damane.Dali was not marath'damane.

An image bloomed, shockingly vivid. Tuon, when she had still been Tuon, after testing for sul'dam, learning her damane. Her worst lesson, one Dali had tried not to remember. But it reared up now, and the violence of it stole Dali's awareness of the room, the marath'damane.

There was only memory. And tears.

~/~

A good day. Sunny. A wonderful, carefree hour spent spinning harmless weaves and playing children's games.

Tuon, garbed in pale blue silk, toying with the bracelet of the a'dam that was fastened around her wrist.

Dali, curled her her feet, revelling in the attention. Eager, brimming with adoration and pleasure.

(Is Dali a good damane? Will she always obey?)

(Yes!) Earnest, devoted. (Dali will always obey!)

The Highest Daughter had taken off the bracelet, then, and fixed Dali with those dark eyes that saw so much.

(Dali will not channel, now, will she?)

(Of course Dali will not channel!) Surprised. Baffled.

(Why not?)

(Dali cannot!)

(Close your eyes)

Dali obeyed. She felt small, warm hands touch her throat.

A sharp click sounded. The collar fell from around her throat. Dali's eyes opened wide with horror.

(And will my Dali channel now?)

Tuon sounded unconcerned. Untroubled, merely curious.

(Put it back.)

Dali's throat was as dry as sand. Her hands flew, tried to snatch back the collar. Tuon held it out of reach.

(Will Dali channel?)

(Please put it back!)

She was going to be sick. Dali was uncollared, not two feet away from the Highest Daughter, her mistress, with nothing to hold her back from – from –

(Why is Dali not channeling?)

(Dali will not!)

"Dali will not!"

(Dali is a good damane. Always my good damane. Isn't she?)

(Yes!)

Click.

The collar fastened tight around her neck again and Dali had collapsed, weak with terror, limp with relief. She hadn't been able to stop crying. Tuon had stroked her hair, and hummed some tuneless song, waiting for the shivers to stop wracking her damane, waiting for her tears to stop.

It was a very long time until Dali was quiet once more, and longer still until Tuon spoke.

(You would not have channeled, Dali, though you could have. Do you know how I know that?)

(No.)

(Because I commanded you not to.)

Her eyes had seemed to fill the world.

(And Dali is a gooddamane. Always.)

~/~

Dali came back to herself with a gasp. That had been a lesson she had put out her mind and tried to forget. It had left her terrified, sick, unable to leave her kennel for days, and still unsettled her to think about, even years later. She had always thought that there had to have been some other way to impart the lesson that she must be loyal, always, no matter the circumstances.

It was only now, hundreds of miles away from the Empress Fortuona, that she understood what Tuon had been trying to teach her.

Dali did not obey because she had to. She obeyed because she chose to.

Dali will not channel.

Still shaking, Dali opened her eyes. They had filled with tears and the two marath'damane were little more than blurs, but she was able to straighten from her crouch, and wipe away the tears with the sleeve of her grey dress. The two women were watching her carefully, the light of saidar still bright around them both, and Dali realised this had been a test for them, too. To see if she could be trusted without a shield. If she had tried to channel, she would likely have been cut off again an instant later, before she could have hurt anybody.

It was a relief. But Dali was proud, because it had not been necessary.

Dali will not channel.

Her nose had run, and Dali knew her eyes were red, her face blotchy. She was not composed. It did not matter, of course, not before only marath'damane. But she would be better, in future. Grief and fear had clouded her mind, but the marath'damane could not take away who she was. Dali was the property of the Empress Fortuona, and would do her honour – even here, hundreds of miles away. Even on the far side of the world!

The one in the yellow dress beckoned curtly for Dali to follow, and wavering on wobbly legs, Dali did. She felt as though she was walking in a dream – frightened, but also somehow elated. Home!She had no idea where they were going – up several flights of steep steps that Dali faintly remembered being pushed down, many days past. She had been too numb with shock and grief to pay any attention, then. Now she noticed that they were made out of the same white stone that had made up the walls of her cell. It seemed to make up this whole tower. Was that why they called it the 'White Tower'?

The marath'damane never spoke or looked back, obviously certain that Dali would be following. The presumption stung – all the more because Dali knew she was right, she could not attempt escape yet. She had no idea where she was.

They walked further, along many corridors. Bare stone and unadorned, at first, but Dali could tell that they were still moving upwards. Six turns later, rough-woven carpet appeared. Stand-lamps were set at intervals, and recesses held flame torches and candles. Dali wrinkled her nose as she passed one of the stand-lamps; its oil was rancid. A few corridors later, another, and another. Dali allowed herself to sneer at the marath'damane's back. These Aes Sedai - they might be wealthy and influential, but they lived in the filth like the marsh-rats.

The corridors grew abruptly plain and bare again, and went from having been nearly empty to bustling with women in white dresses – and every one a marath'damane. They bobbed those ridiculous complicated bows to the one leading Dali as they passed. Most ignored Dali, seemingly rushing to be elsewhere. Some eyed her suspiciously, or with contempt and hatred, or with what looked like pity. Dali forcibly ignored allof them. Her brief euphoria collapsed into sickening fear. Light, to be so close to this many marath'damane, it made her want to crawl into a hole and hide! She refused to let them see how terrified she was , but oh Light, if she had known there were this many of them, she would never have slept a minute, not even in a barred and guarded cell. Dali was one of the best battle-damane in the Empire, had long mastered all the weaves of war, but even if ten Dali's had been beside her, this many marath'damane could have crushed them. Did the Empress know just how many marath'damane there were in this White Tower? Yes, of course she must.

They will serve the Empire soon, Dali told herself. And with their strength, theCorenne will be unstoppable.

It was with relief that Dali followed the marath'damane into a small, dark-panelled room and closed the door behind her. The corridors outside might be seething with marath'damane, but there was only one in this room, and Dali was stronger than she. A little relief. But the thought of being among all those marath'damane again, even to depart the White Tower, was chilling.

They will serve the Empire, Dali told herself again. It was not much of a comfort. They were not serving it yet.

The marath'damane had seated herself at a dark wooden desk and opened a large, age-spotted book. It was a strange room – small, and dominated by a large mirror. A cabinet in the corner completed the furnishings. There was no other chair, not that Dali would have sat if there had been. Somehow she had expected more luxury.

The marath'damane looked up from the book. There was pen and ink beside her. Dali understood. There was always paperwork. But her words, when she spoke, turned Dali to ice.

"You want to leave. I am afraid you cannot, yet."

(No. They cannot break their word. Not after all this!)

"The White Tower forces no woman to stay who does not want to remain." She said calmly, as though her words were not the greatest of hypocrisy. "But once a girl has begun to channel, she cannot simply be let loose until she has learned to control saidar. She would be a danger to everyone around her."

Dali shook her head. Not in disagreement – the marath'damane were not utter fools, it seemed – but at the direction this reasoning was going. They had told Dali she could leave! Dali must return!

The marath'damane leaned forward and fixed Dali's eyes with her own. She did not look mild now. She looked as stern and authoritative as any der'sul'dam. Dali swallowed, and straightened her back, fighting the urge to drop her eyes. It was a struggle.

"You damane have never gone a day controlling your own Power. Those collars -" She growled the word with disgust and Dali bristled. "have restrained your channeling from the beginning."

Of course, they had, that was the purpose of them! Oh, Dali knew this had been a bad idea. A scheme was now being spun around her, and she was helpless to stop it. What price were they going to ask of her? Dali would not betray the Empire!

"To us, you are like girls newly come to the spark. And yet, you are far more dangerous than any half-blocked wilder. If you lose control," she bit out, "You will kill people. We cannot take that risk."

Crushed with disappointment, Dali could only stare. The damane would remain prisoners because marath'damane were dangerous? What kind of twisted logic was that? She opened her mouth to protest, but the marath'damane spoke over her.

"Therefore, if you want to leave the White Tower, you will have to prove that you are capable of controlling yourself. Do you understand?"

The marath'damane had some parts right, but she had it all backwards. Of course, most damane, like Aiala or Jussi or many of the others – if they were sent on their way now, unshielded and uncollared...it did not bear thinking about. But what this marath'damanespoke of just wasn't possible – the Power was addictive, every damane knew that from the first day they channeled. Once you touched it, you wanted to draw more, and more, and uncollared you would fill yourself with so much that you would explode and destroy all around you. The a'dam prevented that, giving control of the Power to the sul'dam, thus removing the temptation. All damane knew that. It was the greatest gift their sul'dam gave them: the delight of saidar, freed from the horror of its destruction.

(and yet the Aes Sedai have nosul'dam, and survive.)

But this did not matter. "This one will not channel." She told the marath'damane. "She promises. So Dali can leave now."

The marath'damane's lips pursed, dissatisfied. "That will not be enough, I am afraid. You will stay in the Tower until we are sure that you are safe to be allowed to leave." Dali's protest was ignored. "Now, as you must learn to control your channeling, it is only appropriate that you be put in white. You will take lessons with the other novices."

"Dali will not!" she snapped at the marath'damane, her temper fraying. This was madness! She would not stay here! It was plain that they wanted to corrupt her, but though Dali had no fear for her loyalty, these were Aes Sedai. Who knew what they could do?

The marath'damane raised an eyebrow. "Do you want to leave, or do you not? This is the only way. Either we are assured that you are no danger, or you return to the open cells."

With that, the trap snapped closed around her, and Dali knew there was no way out. She had tried to play in these Aes Sedai schemes, and been hopelessly caught in their web instead. She was a fool.

But Dani is with Dali, she reminded herself. They do not know that. We are not helpless. We will find a way out.

The Aes Sedai wanted her to stay. They had some plan for her, and Dali did not know what. She closed her eyes. She briefly wished she was still in the cell, considered asking to return.

But no. 'The battle begun must be fought to the end' was one of Malahavana's wise phrases. Dali was weak, but Dani was with her, and she fought for the Empress. She would do whatever was necessary to return home.

"What must Dali do?" she asked at last, shoulders slumped in defeat.

The marath'damane smiled a thin smile. "I will write your name in the novice book. Our rules and expectations will be explained to you, and then you can begin proving that you are ready to be allowed to leave." Well, Dali would not channel, but how long would it take?

She picked up the pen, dipped the nib in the ink. "What is your name?" she asked.

Were these marath'damane fools? She had told them plenty of times. "This one is called Dali." she repeated, careful to speak slowly and clearly.

The marath'damane did not write down the name.

"No." She said thoughtfully. "That was your name when you were damane. When you were a piece of property, when all decisions were made for you. You are a novice now, and a free woman. That name is not suitable. You should choose another."

The words hit Dali like a hammer-blow. If her vow not to channel hadn't been at the forefront of her mind, she might have struck the marath'damane dead right then. As it was, she shook with the urge to choke the life out of her with her bare hands – pure violent rage, from a damane, trained never to think of so much as touching a weapon. At the look on her face, the marath'damane actually leaned back. She was a fool not to have run out the door. Rage flared, hot and red, and Dali felt every muscle tense to snapping.

The presumption! The unbelievable gall! How dare the marath'damane even thinkof telling Dali she would need to choose a new name! Would they have her shave her head, too, and put on a silk robe? She was property! She did not even have a name, save what it pleased her sul'dam to call her! Citizens had names, and could earn higher ones through bravery or accomplishment. But a damane, choose a new name? Even the idea of stepping above herself so far was nauseating.

"No!" The sound was an animal's snarl.

The marath'damane's eyes went wide. She had not been expecting this response? The dirt-eating, pig-swilling –Dali had tried to be polite, but some things could not be tolerated, some things –

"You – you Aes Sedai¸you choose whatever name you want, you change it twice a day, and grant yourself all the honours you can dream of – and you do notdeserve – honour is earned, not taken – and Dali will not, Dali will never –"

The marath'damane recovered her voice. "You will not speak to an Aes Sedai like –"

"You put Dali back in the cell. Fill the cell with bricks! You will kill Dali before she will –"

"Be silent!"

Dali snapped her mouth closed, and tried to stop herself committing murder. She was breathing hard, twitching with the urge to do violence. Surely the sul'damwould understand if she killed this one. Surely they wouldn't punish her too much. How dareshe!

The marath'damane recovered her smooth face. "This is a Seanchan custom, then? Names are important?"

Dali hissed through gritted teeth. It had been a mistake to even speak to these creatures, she knew it would be. "You ask Dali to choose a higher name. As though she was of the Blood itself. You dare!"

"The Blood...your nobility?" Dali didn't know what that was. "Your rulers, your high ones?"

Perhaps the marath'damane was merely ignorant. But some things could be overlooked, and some could not. "Yes." Dali bit out. "The Blood, and the High Blood, and the Imperial Family – do you know nothing?"

"Our ignorance is regrettable." The marath'damane said smoothly. Dali wanted to crack that marble face with her fists. "But I must insist. You cannot continue to act as though you are damane, here." Her eyes fixed Dali, sharp and arrows. "Damane are very dangerous. We could never let one loose."

Dali was shaking with both rage and panic. The Aes Sedai was not even trying to pretend to hide her intentions – they planned to corrupt Dali, to turn her into a cruel, selfish marath'damane like them! But despite her furious words, she did not want to return to the cell, to an unknown fate. She had to go home, had to find a way, and if it meant playing these Aes Sedai games...

(But how far must Dali go? A new name!)

And then, it came to her, and only luck let her catch herself in time to hold back laughter. These Aes Sedai were ignorant. They did not know her, and would not know a name of honour from a string of nonsense. But Dali would not even have to choose a new name. She could simply tell them who she was.

But she did not speak at once, making a show of controlling her breathing and calming herself down from her rage. In truth, it had been swept away in the first moments of her plan, but she tried to pretend she was still angry. It was difficult. Damane never lied to their sul'dam, and Dali was quite out of the habit of pretending anything, but she tried her best. The marath'damane kept looking at her, making Dali swallow in quite real nervousness.

Finally, her face was smooth, her fists unclenched. "...Dali will." She said at last, trying to sound reluctant. The marath'damane smiled a thin, satisfied smile.

"And what name will I put down for you, child?" she asked.

Dali looked at her hands. They were identical to another pair, hundreds of miles away.

"Danidali." She said.

~/~