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"Gather around children. I will tell you the tale of Brannon Kincaid . . . historians will claim he was little more than a pawn, a simple thread of the Tapestry, and of little consequence. But historians leave their libraries and seclusion rarely, and the true history of mankind is best told by those who lived it, than those who merely spout what they have read.

It all begins with his father, I suppose. I knew the man when he was a lad. We grew up in the same village. Then I went off to join the Queen's army while he got married and bought his own farm. Yes, I was in the army. You think I was born wearing this cloak? Anyway, something changed in him while I was gone. Always a popular man, Brannon's father was--not with any of the village folk, but with travelers stopping by the Kincaid farmstead to stay over on their way to somewhere else--as if the man owned not a farm, but an inn. The lad, Brannon, withdrew from the world, and from much contact with the village. As a result, I did not have the honor of knowing him well. But what I did know of him, made me proud to be from the same village and pity the plight he was made to suffer. He was a hardworking child, and that did not change as he grew into his young manhood--always quick to help raise a neighbor's new barn, or search a lost lamb. On my visits back to my old village, I saw his mother and him together most often, carting their farm's wares to market--hardly his father, and believe you me I was glad on't. It wasn't talked much, but people knew . . . we knew like you know when the season starts to change. Master Kincaid wasn't a man a'tall--but a beast. He treated his family poorly, and up until Mistress Kincaid passed on, rest her soul, mother and son clung to each other as life-lines to weather the storm Master Kincaid offered them.

I never saw a lad of ten and six Naming days so hard, so cold as the day we learned Mistress Kincaid was dead. Master Kincaid had left, Brannon said, had left his mother to die. No one could prove it'd been her husband to beat her to death like that, but everyone knew. No son should have to hold his dying mother in his arms--not when the violence could have been prevented. We all felt a measure of responsibility . . . we had allowed what we suspected to go on as long as it did. Of course, we were without a Wisdom for some time by that point . . . I daresay she'd have put a stop to it sooner if we had. But that is neither here nor there and the Wheel Weaves as the Wheel Wills, and Brannon would not have gone to Tar Valon had his mother lived.

Tis said that with her dying breath, Mistress Kincaid stirred something within Brannon which had been restrained for so long. The young man made a Vow to his mother as she slipped away from this life--though everyone disagrees what that Vow is. Something about it made him grab his gear and seek me out, though. With determination in his gaze that I'd never seen before, he asked to be my apprentice, at least long enough to get to Tar Valon since he couldn't afford to get there on his own.

I took the lad in and taught him what I knew of being a gleeman. I had hopes that maybe I could help him forget and keep him away from that city. He had a real talent for the flute and could have made a wonderful gleeman, but the lad was not about to be swayed. Why, once he found out I had been a soldier, he badgered me endlessly about teaching him what I knew of that, too. Lad had a talent for that too. Took to it even faster than he did the flute, he did.

When we finally arrived in the fair city of Tar Valon, Brannon took only enough time to wash away the dust of travel before he bade me farewell and went to the White Tower. I saw him again two years later when my travels brought me to Tar Valon once more. He had become what they call a Sworn. What does that mean? Well, it's similar to an Accepted . . . What is an Accepted?! Don't you pay attention to any of the stories I tell you? Well, there's no time to explain it now. He had become Sworn and was very excited about his training. Why, he even told me about some of his friends there, including the Saldaean twins, Althea and Alina Farrelyn. No, I don't suppose you've heard of Alina. She disappeared, they say. Up and left her training and was never heard from again. Some say it was a Warder by the name of Durhas that drove her away and having seen him once, I don't doubt that tale.

The twins were fine girls from what he told me. The first friends he made when he was but a Trainee. Though they did seem to get into a lot of trouble that Brannon had to get them out of. Women are like that, you know. He helped them through everything from cruel Novices to a night of too much wine, though you didn't hear about that one from me, y'hear? Practically inseparable those three were until poor Alina disappeared. Althea took it hard of course and Brannon was right there to help her through that as well. I think there was a bit more than friendship between those two by then, but Brannon of course wouldn't admit to anything of the sort. Not in earshot of the Gaidin or Aes Sedai, anyway.

A year after that, I was passing through Tar Valon again on my way to Cairhien. I was hearing all kinds of strange tales from there and I thought I needed to see that for myself, but that is a story for another time. I saw Brannon in an Inn one night, striding along looking every inch a Gaidin, save he wasn't wearing one of those cloaks that are supposed to make them invisible. We talked for some time that night. Being a Warder really suited the lad well. I had never seen him more happy, except when his mother was still alive perhaps. The Pattern holds many surprises for people. Now, I think it's time for you to go on up to bed. I'll tell you more about Brannon Kincaid another time . . ."