milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Cordelia Vorkosigan hasn't been in the bar since Twelfth Night.

But tonight she's here. She's had a conversation with Mary Lennox, and is now sitting in an armchair by the fire with a mug of coffee and a brillberry muffin.

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Nynaeve grits her teeth a moment.

"No. Friends is not the right word for it. Though . . . she is not a bad woman."

This is quite a concession from Nynaeve, really.

"You and she are--friends?"

Cordelia nods. "We've had some differences, but I'd say yes, we're friends."

Nynaeve might mutter something along the lines of 'that woman could have differences with a rock'.

"Hmm. And a similar purpose, perhaps?"

Was that a snort of wry laughter at Nynaeve's mutter? No, surely not. Don't be absurd.

"Our purposes ... run together, every so often. Often enough."

A pause.

"I'm curious about the name Sedai -- do I understand correctly that it's a title? An honorific?"

Nynaeve nods.

"It is. Women who become Aes Sedai may use it when referring to themselves."

Or so Nynaeve is given to understand it.

"It is one way of distinguishing us from other women."

And not the most obvious one, either.

"Is that important?"

It's asked with the simple curiosity of an anthropologist.

"Yes."

The answer is immediate and almost sharp. Then she takes a breath.

Her hand twitches faintly, but fails to actually grab her braid.

"Most think so."

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