238Author's Note:
This story has gone through quite a lot, but it's still going. Thank you for reading! I do not own WOT.
This story takes place somewhere in the period of 922-950 NE, during the reign of Kirin Melway as Amyrlin Seat, 50 to 80 years before the events of the Dragon Reborn (see pg 216 of RJ's "The Complete World of the Wheel of Time").
Note (9/17/07): This story is dedicated to James Oliver Rigney Jr., also known as Robert Jordan, who passed away yesterday. His words will be sorely missed.
(3-29-13): I am a mite amused looking back at bygone days. Despite my negligence, people continue to have an interest in this story. Many thanks for your patronage! If you squint, you may notice a hint of change here or there as I've decided to polish my early work on this story while I reread it. Hopefully this will culminate in the addition of new work if I continue to have sufficient time and once I'm fully up to speed with what was originally produced.
Book One
by viggen
The small girl with burnished copper skin and raven black hair sat on the carpet with her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped to hold them there. Her almond shaped black eyes spun in their sockets, swinging this way and that across the room in something just short of panic. She rocked in place, always moving, as if to comfort herself. Her face was damp with tears and her screaming fit had finally ended.
"You see, Aes Sedai, it is as if the Dark One himself had a grip on her. She has never been a normal child, but after her mother died, she simply snapped. I have taken her to every Wisdom and Wise Woman and village herbalist that will see me," insisted the girl's father, Dursh Prim. Prim was a prominent trader from Arad Doman, with a single jewel stud in one ear and black hair much like his daughter's. The deepening lines on his face be spoke months of worry that had aged him beyond what years and travel possibly could. His tall frame had bent as if under great weight. "She needs help beyond what I can possibly give her. Beyond what anyone short of the White Tower can provide. I will pay any price."
The Aes Sedai wearing the yellow shawl was a severe woman, close to plump, whom time had simply passed by. Steel gray in her hair, worn as a tight bun at the back of her head, suggested great age indeed where her face would not admit to being young or middle-aged or grandmotherly. Romanda Sedai regarded the child with a hooded expression. Unhurried, the Aes Sedai reached to retrieve a cup of tea from her desk and closed her eyes while she sipped. "How old is the girl?" she finally asked, the high pitch of her voice at odds with the severity she wore like a gown.
"This summer will be her sixth, Aes Sedai." Prim answered. "Ghedlyn is a good girl. If there's anything under the Light I can do at all..."
"You are correct," Romanda Sedai cut him off, "She does need help. Desperately. Left alone, she may die within the year. It is a surprise to find this problem in one quite so young."
"Can she be Healed?" Prim brightened, straightening in his chair.
"Healed... no. This problem is not one easily corrected," Romanda turned the cup in her hand. "Your daughter is touching the Source. Most girls with the spark born into them do not begin to touch saidar until they are more than twice your daughter's age. She has embraced the source on and off since you walked through my door. It is as if she was a tall tree in a lightning storm and simply unable to stop it."
Prim had turned white, "She can channel."
"For one so young, it is much much more than an aberration." Romanda continued, "It may even burn her out or kill her before she is taught enough to control it. I must ask that you leave her here in our care. Even so, she may not live to summer."
"My daughter," Dursh gurgled flatly. He looked too exhausted to express the emotion surging through him.
"We will do everything we can for her, Tradesman Prim," Romanda assured him, "You may be allowed to stay as a guest and I will arrange that you be kept with your daughter. She is still far too young to be separated from her parents."
Thus did Ghedlyn Prim arrive at the White Tower, seven years younger than the youngest novice.