Natare almost giggled at the two Shienaran guards, but she held it in as calm as she possibly could.  An Aes Sedai in the making?  The very idea was ridiculous for two reasons.  The first, she was much too young to join the White Tower as a novice.  She heard that the youngest were of at least five years older than she.  The second, she could not channel one bit, but she did have time to grow and develop.  Those old men could be right.

            Fal Dara was an amazing city to Natare’s eyes, at least.  As they walked through the stone paved streets leading Dondedieb behind them, she gawked at the wagons and carriages that rested on either side of the street.  Peddlers called out in almost casual, semi-loud tones that carried easily over the silent citizens of Fal Dara.  Parents kept a careful guard of their children that was closer than of that Omar gave her.  They were all carrying on with their business, but with a watchful eye to glance around in just about every direction.  They were watching for something, but what?  Trollocs and Myddraal, perhaps.  Natare had come from a village a few miles south of the border between Arafel and Shienar, but she had read that Trolloc and Myddraal attacks happened often in the Borderlands, especially among cities closest to the Blight.

            The soldiers among the Shienarans were most watchful of all.  It wasn’t out of weariness, of course.  Never weariness for a people who fought against almost constant Trolloc raids.  They looked prepared, ready to fight a Myddraal if it popped out of their own shadows.  Even if Lord Omar weren’t there to protect her, she knew that she could feel safe here.  Not that she didn’t want Lord Omar’s protection.  Light, he fought and scared off a Darkhound, no matter what those two old gate guardsmen thought!  Lord Omar was a hero like that out of legend.  Lord Omar was her hero.

            Unfortunately, her hero was busy judging inns to be suitable for a “girl of her age”.  Light, she could understand if he were considering residence in a hell.  She read that they were the lowest of inn common rooms or perhaps taverns – the book was never really too clear about that – and it was an easy place to get hurt or worse among all of the chaos of profuse gambling, drinking, and decadence.  Knowing him, the place he chooses will be as far from being a hell as possible.   Then again, with the treatment she was given over the past few days, it was more likely that he would spend ten times as much as needed for rooms to pamper her like a spoiled child.  It felt good to be doted on so.  It was almost as if she finally had a real father.

            She could hear him mutter under his breath as they passed many inns throughout what felt to be a full tour of Fal Dara.  They added two more inns.  Dark One’s Mug had a poorly maintained sign painted of a bronze tankard.  “Too rough looking.  Probably caries a lot of drunkards too”.  A particularly nasty looking strip of inns and taverns littered a relatively small part of the city.  Unsavorily men looking ready to do murder either rested on the outside of the building, drunk or bloodied, which was dirtier than Natare had ever seen!  None of those buildings seemed to be card for in any sense of the word, or they were hopping from one inn to the next, getting more drunk, more injured, or both.  Luckily Omar hadn’t even glanced toward the hells.  Natare did keep some of the names in mind though.  The Trolloc Graveyard, Myddraal’s Eyes, and The Heart of Shayol Ghul were the worst of those Natare could see.

            Finally Lord Omar had decided.  Well, not quite decidedly, but he did narrow down the choices to two.  One inn that looked to perhaps the most expensive in town named “Within The Eye of The World” was the first choice and although it had a beautiful paleness to it’s intricate stonework. Natare could tell right away that it would take a fortune to stay there for a night. Thereby, it wasn’t the one she wanted to stay in.  She didn’t mind being pampered, but she did mind being a burden on Lord Omar’s coin purse.

            “Umm… I want to stay at this one, Lord Omar”, said Natare as she pointed at the Whitecloak’s second choice.  The Seven Towers stood next to Within The Eye of the World.  It was an obvious reference to the Seven Towers of Malkier that had once stood tall until it fell to the Blight.  The inn was far less grandiose than the other, yet it still held the same quality as upper-class or noble.  Natare speculated that it was probably mostly used to hold rooms of personal servants of With The Eye of the World, but it felt to be more than just that.  Much more than that.  She silently read a phrase in the Old Tongue on the sign in front of The Seven Towers as Lord Omar handed the reigns of Dondelieb to the inn’s stable boy to show he accepted her decision.

            Mordero ain a Shadar daghain pas duete for Cuebiyari al Malkier. It took her a moment to decipher it, but by the time Lord Omar returned, she figured that it meant “Death and the Shadow hold no fear in the heart of Malkier”.  That was a rough translation from the knowledge she gained from reading, but it did add more to the inn than just being a servant’s quarters.  It was an inn dedicated to the memory of Malkier.  Dedicated to the former Borderland that stood between Shienar and the Blight.

            Lord Omar took her hand and led her into The Seven Towers common room.  Raucous laughter to her right caught her attention as the plump and stout inn keeper came to Lord Omar to discuss room pricing.  A table of three men were drinking and talking.  By the look of them in their worn Shienararan armor they were soldiers.  The largest was a head taller than Lord Omar and half again as wide.  He was laughing the loudest in what could double as a wheezing bellow.  He was also the oldest with his face creased with wrinkles and scars and his whitening gray top-knot.  His two other companions were both smaller and relatively younger, but neither was any younger than Lord Omar.

            Despite the scars that traveled up his arms, and undoubtedly continued on to the rest of his body, the older Shienaran soldier had a grandfatherly look to him.  As soon as his eyes laid on Natare, a wide grin showed off white teeth.  He raised his mug toward her and Natare, in slight confusion of what she should do, curtsied with a smile.  One of the younger soldiers, with a slight graying at the roots of his top-knot whispered in the ear of the grandfatherly soldier.  He laughed uproariously and slapped his two younger companions on the back a little too hard, but that just made all three laugh all the louder.

            Oh yes, The Seven Towers will be a wonderful place to stay.  Between the nice soldiers and Lord Omar, it finally felt as if she had a real family.