A Weave Apart
Ania knew that she should have taken some time to word her three questions, or at least find out what they were to be about. She had one question ready, but that had been ready since she left her rooms.
But it seemed she would have plenty of time to figure out the other two.
"Where is the Great Hold?"
She had been wandering about the Stone for what felt like hours, not finding anything remotely resembling a storeroom. She had, on the other hand, seen more tacky tapestries than she'd ever thought she would; and she'd found the kitchens. Randlandian sweets were quite good, but she found herself wondering whether there was chocolate in this world. Bah, probably in Shara or something.
Asking the servants for directions was out of the question. She'd tried that, half an hour back, and the girl had squeaked – squeaked! – and left without a word. She didn't know if it was her or the mention of a room full of Aes Sedai artifacts, but if it was the first, she was going to have a word or two with a certain person. Who else could have been spreading negative rumors about her? It was not as if Rand spent his time gossiping with the servants. Now wait just a minute…
And so she found herself casually leaning against another tacky tapestry opposite the door to Mat's room, waiting for him to come out and hoping the sight of her wouldn't make him decide not to go to the Great Hold after all. Accidentally changing the Wheel of Time plot wasn't a good thing, she knew. She'd read some fanfiction, after all.
The door opened, and Mat walked out. He looked at her and just happened to jump back a few paces.
"What?" Ania tried to ask pleasantly. It came out as a growl.
He peered at her suspiciously. "Just wondering what you are going to hit me for this time," he raised his hands as if to protect himself from a blow, "looking at you? Also, I am curious as to why you keep showing up everywhere I go."
"I need directions to the Great Hold; and I won't slap you unless you make me angry." She smiled sweetly. Poisoned-honey-sweetly. "Besides, you should get used to girls showing up everywhere you go, every time you turn. It will happen to you again."
She grinned at the puzzled face she'd caused.
"What—?"
"Oh, never mind. Directions?"
"Ahh…" He raked his hand through his hair, "I'm on my way there now."
"Of course. But you won't want to walk with me there, will you?" There was a tiny shift in his eyes. "I thought so. But if giving me directions is too much of a hassle, I can always just follow you."
"No," he sighed, "You can walk with me."
"Great!" She clapped her hands together with a happy giggle, saw Mat roll his eyes, and lowered her hands. "Fine, I'll lay off the quirkiness. But only for tonight!" She jabbed her finger at him. He gave a resigned laugh and stepped sideways, making a two meter gap between them. Ania decided not to try filling it up, seeing as it would be embarrassing if he kept edging sideways.
They walked for a while in silence. Then the silence became too heavy for Ania to bear, and she said, "so, erm, should we enter the doorway together or…?"
Mat looked at her with a puzzled expression.
"I mean, erm—" must stop saying "erm" all the time, must stop "–see, Rand is entering it too."
"What?" Mat stopped short and Ania realized that she really should stop springing potential plot-changing surprises on him.
"I mean, erm, it won't do anyone any harm. And, see, I really don't want to explain why I'm hanging out in The Great Hold to Rand. He, erm, thinks I'm a bit strange as it is."
Mat mumbled something that might have been, "I don't blame him," but as Ania was not quite sure he had said that, she gave him the benefit of the doubt and did not become violent.
"So," she said overly loud in an attempt to end this discussion, "go in at the same time?"
"I guess it will be so," Mat sighed, "though we can't walk through it exactly at the same time. There isn't enough room."
Ania wondered for a short while whether she should yell at him for calling her fat, but decided against it.
They walked down into a dusty corridor. There were footprints on the floor, and Ania wondered whether Rand had already been through here. Mat stopped, and Ania saw why: they were standing in front of a door. It was hanging askew and when Mat kicked it open it fell apart. Out of the corner of her eye, Ania saw something small jump and scuttle off in the opposite direction. A rat. She shivered. Then she turned her eyes to the room beyond the door. It was very dusty, but to her relief there was a clear absence of cobwebs. Rats and spiders would have been too much. She spotted the redstone doorframe after a while looking, standing out from the pile of she-knew-not-whats. A nervous flutter started up in her stomach.
Mat went over, studied the ter'angreal for a moment, then gave it a push; apparently, he was wondering, like Ania, whether the thing was likely to topple over. When it didn't give away, he gave it a stronger push, and Ania almost called out for him to stop – she wanted answers and she didn't want him pushing over a possible chance of getting them. As it showed, she had no need to worry. The doorway didn't tip over, and after a short pause in which he seemed to be arguing with himself, Mat extended his leg and stepped through. He disappeared.
Ania was instantly grateful that he'd left his lamp. It was standing on a barrel close to the ter'angreal, giving off a feeble light. She'd never been particularly afraid of the dark, but there was something spooky about this dusty room, and not to mention the rats skulking around the corners. She also became very grateful, suddenly, that the majhere had basically forced her to give up her sandals for a pair of boots ("a respectable young girl does not blatantly show off her feet in that manner!"). Imagine having a rat run over unprotected feet… She shuddered.
Walking slowly and reluctantly towards the doorway, she stopped but a pace from it. To her it seemed like the closer she got, the less attractive walking through it became. A small part of her brain was disappointed that Mat hadn't tipped it over. As it were, she might not have gone through at all, if she hadn't suddenly heard footsteps in the corridor behind her. Realizing she had no time to hide, she ignored her nervousness and quickly stepped through the doorway.
A blinding light met her, and for a short while, for eternity, a thunderous sound filled her ears and head. Then she stepped onto a dust-free floor in a large, round, hall. She had just begun taking in the peculiar sight around her, the odd yellow columns and the impossibly high ceiling, when a breathy voice spoke words she didn't understand. She instantly beat herself up with a mental stick for forgetting. They speak the Old Tongue! Turning towards the voice, Ania didn't see the speaker at once. Then she saw something moving amongst the columns and, addressing it, she stuttered: "Sorry—I—don't—underst—"
She was cut short when the—Aelfinn blew a whistle. It had to be a whistle. Or maybe the Aelfinn was able to make such a sound on its own? Either way, a loud, painfully high tone sounded in the hall, and seconds later two, not one, figures emerged from the columns. Ania wondered idly where the other had come from, as she hadn't seen the arrival. The newcomer was smaller than the other, yet it seemed to be her (as they came closer, Ania noted that the smaller had clearly feminine traits) that was leading the two of them. Both had a snakelike appearance – tall and unnaturally thin, their hair and skin caught the light the way snakes' scales do. They reminded Ania of aliens. Also, they reminded her oddly of Voldemort.
Shaking off that silly thought, she realized that the smaller of the two had to be the translator. Ania seemed to remember reading Rand describing her to be "talking like an old book". Wonder what old books sound like...
The male Aelfinn started talking in what Ania thought might have been a pretty language coming from another being. When he was finished the woman opened her mouth. She spoke as if she was reading aloud, in a droning voice relived of any emotion.
"Good. Thou hast not brought along any lamps, nor any torches. So as the agreement was, and is, and eternally will be. Thou hast not brought any iron? Nor any instruments of music?"
"No, I haven't," Ania responded after a while, shaking her head. The woman not only spoke in a very old-fashioned way, she also had a thick accent, making her very difficult to understand.
After being told Ania's response, the man beckoned with his hand, moving for her to follow him. He spoke again, yet the woman's translation – "follow" – was hardly needed.
Although it was the man who had told Ania to follow him, it was the woman who led the three of them. Trailing behind, Ania's inborn curiosity quickly made her eyes dart in every direction, taking in as much of this strange place as possible. Her first impression of the place was "curves". All around her was swirly patterns, circles and spirals; all the walls and windows were curved. It seemed to her like Aelfinn architecture was completely bereft of hard edges. Idly, she thought that maybe the Tairens could get some pointers from the Aelfinn on how to put intricate patterns everywhere without overdoing it. The nervousness she'd felt before had completely disappeared, drowned in utter fascination. More than once Ania had to stop herself from lingering by one of the circular windows. For a while she speculated on what would happen if she just jumped through one of them. The strange-looking trees and the dim light in which they were bathed were screaming out to her to come and take a closer look. She realized that jumping might not be a good idea, though, when she saw the expressions on her guides' faces after she'd lingered too long by the window that showed that strange metal construction – three spires curving inwards towards the same point. Maybe it has something to do with the Tower of Ghenjei?
Disappointment rang in her stomach when they – after what Ania meant was a way too short time – stopped by a tall, curved doorway. The man spoke and the woman translated:
"Here," she gestured towards the door, "here thy answers may be found. Enter. Enter and ask."
Then they both did something peculiar. They looked at her intently while inhaling deeply, slowly. Their mouths were close to, if not, gaping. Ania shrugged uncomfortably and suddenly remembered reading about the Aelfinn being mind-readers or something to that extent. She made a quick movement as if to cover her head, but realized at the last minute that that might be considered rude. Letting her arms fall to her sides, she quickly walked through the doorway. Looking behind her, she saw that the translator was following. The man seemed to have disappeared. The woman was still staring at her, but her mouth was now closed, and something that looked like surprise was on her face. Offering no thought as to why anything with her should seem surprising, Ania turned her attention to the three tall pedestals in front of her. An Aelfinn, robed in red, was sitting on each. The one in the center was a man, she noted, while the two others were women. All three were staring down at her in the same way the guide and the translator had done. They, too, were breathing deeply, almost panting. Ania shrugged uncomfortably again, feeling more and more a want to take a bath. She wanted to just get her answers and go back to Tear, get this whole thing over with. But she felt it would be polite to wait for them to speak first. They did, all of them at once; words that would have been dramatic, had they not been translated in such a boring voice.
"Thou doth not belong."
Ania stared at them. She had a feeling this was not their usual opening. Carefully, so as to not by accident use up one of her questions, she said: "I am aware of that." And she was; she just hadn't thought about it very much before. Would her coming from another world, possibly another universe, affect her chances of getting answers to her questions? She waited for her answer to be translated, and continued: "I figured, though, that it wouldn't be a problem, is i—" she stopped herself. That had almost been a question.
"It doth not be a problem, as long as thine questions doth not concern thy life before. Ask, according to the agreement of old."
Her life before? Oh, yes, of course. Her life before she came to Randland. She quickly jumped to her first question: "Why did my arm heal itself and my door unlock itself?" She had figured those two happenings were linked.
The three lifted their eyes from her, studying the air above her, and then answered.
"Thou doth not belong. A thread in the pattern doth not leave markings upon thee and thou doth not leave markings upon threads in the pattern. Unless, of course, they hath come unto thy weave."
Her weave? She didn't understand. Eyeing the translator dubiously, she wondered if there had been a mistake in the translation. Suddenly, a bell rang, for some reason upsetting the Aelfinn. The three on the pedestals uttered anxious sentences in the Old Tongue, seemingly addressing thin air. Curious, she wondered what they were saying. When the translator made no move to convert their words, Ania almost asked her to do so. Until she remembered not to use up her questions.
The three spoke to Ania again. For the first time there was emotion, distress, in the translator's voice.
"Ask. Ask."
The questions she'd previously thought up had disappeared from her mind. The only thing she now could think of was questions related to the first answer.
"What do you mean, if they have become part of 'thy weave'? What is my weave?" For a split second a giant "ops!" sounded in her head. That was two questions, not one.
"Threads like thine doth not exist in the pattern, they can not become part of it. But threads of the pattern can become parts of thy weave, if given to you. Thy weave is woven alongside the pattern. It interacts, but is not part of it."
The bell rang again, right after the woman on the left pedestal had spoken. Then, after the translator had converted and spoken the words, it rang for a third time, always gaining strength. Suddenly, two more Aelfinn had appeared, both looking and garbed like her guide. They grabbed her shoulders without bothering to ask whether she wanted to go on her own. She resisted them long enough to get out a, "but—?" Then they dragged her firmly towards the door. The last she saw of the room was the translator, speaking sternly and for the first time on her own. "Thou hast no more questions."
She was dragged hurriedly along, the two Aelfinn oblivious to her shouts about walking on her own. Twice more the bell rang, loud enough to make the floor and walls vibrate. Twice she stumbled and would have fallen if it weren't for the firm grips the two had on her arms and shoulders. Bewildered, she wondered what on earth she'd done to earn this brutal goodbye.
In no time, they were back by the redstone doorway. The two men stopped in front of it and simultaneously let go of her, so she involuntarily sat down on the floor. She got up, ready to berate them of the impoliteness of their behavior (she had conveniently forgotten about them not understanding what she said). But when she didn't move to step through the doorway, the Aelfinn apparently saw it only appropriate to give her a light push. She fell backwards through the ter'angreal.
For an eternity she fell backwards through the white blinding light with the deafening roar filling her ears. Then she hit the dusty floor of The Great Hold.
"Ow," was the first sound to escape her, a disgruntled sound caused by annoyance more than pain.
"At least you didn't get thrown out of it," said a voice from behind the doorway. She scrambled up, brushing dust off her clothes. She could see Mat through the ter'angreal, leaning against some barrels and boxes on the other side; he looked like he'd—
"Did you just try to jump through it again?" Ania asked.
"Yes," he straightened up and immediately hurtled himself through it again. He didn't disappear, though, and had to catch himself on the barrel holding his lamp to avoid falling. The lamp tilted dangerously to one side, and Mat grabbed it to avoid setting the Hold on fire. He hissed and Ania guessed he must have burned himself.
"You can't go in there twice," Ania said, watching him suck his fingers. Then, noticing that he looked rather angry, she added slyly "what, didn't get the answers you wanted?"
Mat didn't answer her, only muttered something under his breath about "marry" and "bloody noblewomen" while staring at the ter'angreal as if he wished it was possible to murder stone.
A boot appeared, as if from thin air, followed by the rest of Rand, a rather nifty-looking sword of flame in hand. He started when he saw the two.
"Just poking around?" he asked, "or did you go through too?"
When Mat made no move to answer – he just eyed Rand warily for some reason – Ania opened her mouth to do so. Rand interrupted her.
"I wonder what you would need to go through it for, since you allegedly know all about the future already." There was a slight doubt in his voice when he spoke the last bit. Oh, no! Can't have him doubting me now!
"I—" what were she to say? "I—I cannot see things concerning myself. I asked questions concerning things I am in doubt about, and I got answers. What did you ask about?" The last question popped out before she could stop it. It would probably work as a nice diversionary tactic, even though he probably would not tell her.
She was quite right. He didn't answer her question. He only nodded and turned his attention to Mat.
"And what did you ask about?"
Mat didn't have a chance to answer, for suddenly Moiraine appeared, stepping gracefully out of seemingly thin air. Her mouth tightened at the sight of Rand and Mat. She completely ignored Ania.
"You! You were both in there. That is why…!" She hissed. "One of you would have been bad enough, but two ta'veren at once – you might have torn the connection entirely and been trapped there!" So that was why the Aelfinn had been so insistent on Ania leaving. Moiraine continued, "Wretched boys playing with things you do not know the danger of. Perrin! Is Perrin in there, too?" Was he? Ania couldn't remember. "Did he share your…exploit?"
"The last I saw Perrin," Mat said as Ania started edging towards the door. She was worried that Moiraine might turn her anger on her next, "he was getting ready to go to bed." He eyed the ter'angreal dubiously while he said it, though. Maybe he expected Perrin to step out? Ania didn't want to be there for that, if that should happen, so she quickly stepped out in the corridor.
It was dark there, but Ania was so lost in thought she forgot to be worried about rats and whatnot. Now that she had left the Hold, her thoughts had nowhere to go except to the ter'angreal and what had happened within it. Her answers had indeed been a bit easier to understand than what she could remember Mat's being. Her weave. Imagining a patch on a piece of cloth, she thought she could understand what they had meant.
"…threads of the pattern can become parts of thy weave, if given to you…"
So, she thought, as long as something isn't given to me, it can't affect me, and I can't affect it. Well, it made sense with the oil-lamp and the Myrddraal's sword, but what about the key? The rooms had been given to her, hadn't they? And wasn't the key part of the rooms?
Pondering about this, her feet took her all the way up to the floor her rooms were in. Walking over to her door, she said in an amused voice, "hullo, o dearest part of mine weave." Then, opening the door, she entered the room and picked up the vase she'd thrown against the wardrobe the day before. Shifting it carelessly from hand to hand, she recalled how a maid brought it in the day after her arrival. It had been placed in her rooms, but the maid had never stated that the vase was hers. Without second thought, Ania dropped it on the floor. It broke. And before her eyes, it turned whole again. She'd been expecting it, but Ania still goggled at it. Then the vase was no longer on the floor, but on the table. Exactly where the maid had put it.
"Freaky," Ania whispered.
Someone knocked on her door. She yelled, "come", and watched the Majhere enter. In one hand, she was holding a piece of red cloth, in the other, some small piece of metal.
"Hello," Ania said.
"I am sorry to come so late, Lady Ania," now that was one thing that never ceased to freak her out. "Lady" Ania, indeed. "But one of the maids found this in the corridors, and I thought I recognized it from that special shirt you were wearing. Is it yours?" She held the red cloth forward, and Ania suddenly recognized it. It was the sleeve Mat had set on fire!
"Ye—Yes," she stuttered, "thank you." Giving a half-hearted smile, she took the sleeve from the Majhere's hand.
"The real reason I came here is this," the woman held her other hand forward, and Ania saw what the metal piece really was – a key.
"The previous owner of these rooms accidentally broke this in two, and I am afraid I must admit I did not get it to repairs until after you had arrived. I got you a substitute key, of course, and a rather plain one at that, doesn't match the door at all!" She huffed and gestured towards it. For the first time Ania noticed that the plain metal key really didn't match the, of course, heavily decorated door. "But it worked for its purpose, I believe. Now, the real key came back from repairs today." She gave it to Ania, "my sincerest apologies if this has caused you any displeasure."
"Not at all," Ania smiled, happy to have this explained. Now she knew why the door had unlocked itself – like the vase, the key had come to the rooms after Rand had given them to her.
"Well, that is good. I wish you a good night." With a slight curtsey, the Majhere left Ania to once again be puzzled over how the woman switched from being polite in the manner of highest-ranking servant to a guest of the lord, to the rather stern, mother-to-daughter tone she'd used when discussing Ania's footwear.
