Lord of Chaos (90 page)

Inside . . . ? No! I am myself! I am Lews Therin Telamon! I am meeeeeeeeee!
The cry faded away into the distance.

Come back
, Rand shouted.
What death? Answer me, burn you!
Silence. He shifted uneasily. Knowing was one thing, but a dead man, inside him, talking of death, made him feel unclean, like the faintest brush of the taint on
saidin.

Something touched his arm, and he nearly seized at the Source again before he realized it was Aviendha. She must have flown into her clothes, yet she looked as if she had taken an hour to arrange every hair to her liking. People said Aiel showed no emotion, but it was just that they were more reserved than most. Their faces told as much as anyone else’s if you knew what to look for. Aviendha was torn between concern and wanting to be angry.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“I was just thinking,” he told her. True enough.
Answer me, Lews Therin! Come back and answer me!
Why had he ever thought silence suited the morning?

Unfortunately, Aviendha took him at his word, and if there was nothing to be concerned about. . . . She put her fists on her hips. That was one thing he understood about women, Aiel, Two Rivers or whoever; fists on hips meant trouble. He need not have bothered lighting the lamps; her eyes were hot enough to light the room. “You went away without me again. I promised the Wise Ones to stay near you until I must go, but you make my promise nothing. You have
toh
to me for this, Rand al’Thor. Nandera, from now on I must be told where he is going and when. He must not be allowed to go without me if I should accompany him.”

Nandera hesitated not a moment before nodding. “It shall be as you wish, Aviendha.”

Rand squared around on both women. “Now, just you wait! Nobody is to be told my comings and goings unless I say so.”

“I have given my word, Rand al’Thor,” Nandera said in a flat voice. She looked him in the eye with no notion of backing up.

“As do I,” Jalani said just as levelly.

Rand opened his mouth, then closed it again. Bloody
ji’e’toh.
No use mentioning he was the
Car’a’carn
, of course. Aviendha looked faintly surprised that he had even protested; apparently to her it was a foregone conclusion. He shifted his shoulders uneasily, though not because of Aviendha. That unclean feel was still there, and stronger. Maybe Lews Therin had come back. Silently Rand called to him, but there was still no answer.

A tap on the door barely preceded Mistress Harfor, who made her usual deep curtsy. The First Maid showed no sign of the early hour, of course; whatever the time of day, Reene Harfor always looked as if she had just gotten dressed. “There have been arrivals in the city, my Lord Dragon, which Lord Bashere thought you should be told of as soon as possible. Lady Aemlyn and Lord Culhan entered yesterday at noon, and are staying with Lord Pelivar. Lady Arathelle came an hour later, with a large retinue. Lord Barel and Lord Macharan, Lady Sergase and Lady Negara entered separately in the night, with only a few retainers each. None has presented their respects at the Palace.” She delivered the last in the same even tone, with no hint of her own opinion.

“That is good news,” he told her, and it was, whether they had left respects or not. Aemlyn and her husband Culhan were nearly as powerful as Pelivar, Arathelle more powerful than any except Dyelin and Luan. The others were of minor Houses, and only Barel among them High Seat of his House, but the nobles who had opposed “Gaebril” were beginning to
gather. At least, it was good news provided he found Elayne before they decided to try taking Caemlyn away from him.

Mistress Harfor eyed him a moment, then extended a blue-sealed letter. “This was delivered late last evening, my Lord Dragon. By a stableboy. A dirty stableboy. The Sea Folk Wave-mistress was not well pleased that you were gone when she appeared for her audience.” This time her disapproval was clear in her voice, though not whether it was for the Wavemistress or Rand missing the audience or the means of the letter’s delivery.

He sighed; he had forgotten all about the Sea Folk here in Caemlyn. That reminded him of the letter he had been given in Cairhien, and he dug it out. Both green wax and blue bore the same impression, though he could not make out what it was supposed to be. Two things like flattened bowls with a thick ornate line running from one through the other. Each was addressed to “The Coramoor,” whoever or whatever that was. Himself, he supposed. Maybe that was what the Sea Folk called the Dragon Reborn. He broke the blue seal first. There was no salutation, and it was certainly unlike anything else Rand had ever seen addressed to the Dragon Reborn.

The Light willing, you will perhaps return to Caemlyn eventually. As I have traveled far to see you, perhaps I will find time for it when you do.

Zaida din Parede Blackwing
of Clan Catelar, Wavemistress

It seemed Mistress Harfor was right; the Wavemistress was not best pleased. The green seal hid little better.

If it pleases the Light, I will receive you on the deck of White Spray at your earliest convenience.

Harine din Togara Two Winds
of Clan Shodein, Wavemistress

“Are they bad news?” Aviendha asked.

“I don’t know.” Frowning at the letters, he was barely aware of Mistress Harfor admitting a woman in the red-and-white and exchanging quiet words with her. Neither of these Sea Folk women sounded like anybody he wanted to spend an hour with. He had read every translation of the Prophecies of the Dragon he could find, and though the clearest was often murky, he remembered nothing that indicated the Atha’an Miere. Perhaps,
on their ships at sea and their distant islands, they would be one people untouched by him or Tarmon Gai’don. He owed this Zaida an apology, but maybe he could fob her off with Bashere; Bashere certainly had enough titles to flatter anybody’s vanity. “I don’t think so.”

The servant sank to her knees before him, white head bowed low and hands raised high to proffer yet another letter, this one on thick parchment. The posture itself made him blink; even in Tear he had never seen a servant cringe so, much less in Andor. Mistress Harfor was frowning and shaking her head. The kneeling woman spoke, still with her face down. “This has come for my Lord Dragon.”

“Sulin?” he gasped. “What are you doing? What are you doing in that . . .
dress
?”

Sulin turned her face up; she looked perfectly horrible, a wolf trying very hard to pretend she was a doe. “It is what women wear who serve and obey as commanded for coins.” She waggled the letter in her still upraised hands. “I was commanded to say that this has just come for my Lord Dragon, by a . . . a horseman who left as soon as it was handed over.” The First Maid clicked her tongue irritably.

“I want a straight answer,” he said, snatching the sealed parchment. She bounded to her feet as soon as it left her hands. “Come back here, Sulin. Sulin, I want an answer!” But she ran as fleetly as she ever had in
cadin’sor
, straight to the doors and out.

For some reason Mistress Harfor glared at Nandera. “I told you this would not work. And I told you both that as long as she wears the Palace livery, I expect her to do the Palace proud whether she’s Aiel or the Queen of Saldaea.” Curtsying, she gave Rand a hasty “My Lord Dragon” and stalked out talking to herself about crazy Aiel.

He was ready to agree. He looked from Nandera to Aviendha to Jalani. None of them appeared in the least surprised. Not one looked as if she had seen a thing out of the ordinary. “Will you tell me what under the Light is going on? That was Sulin!”

“First,” Nandera said, “Sulin and I went to the kitchens. She thought scrubbing pots and the like would be suitable. But a fellow there said he had all the scullions he needed; he seemed to think Sulin would always be fighting the others. He was not very tall,” she marked just under Rand’s chin, “but just as wide, and I think he would have offered to dance the spears with us if we had not gone away. Then we went to the woman Reene Harfor, since she seems to be roofmistress here.” A slight grimace passed over her face; a woman should be roofmistress or not—Aiel thinking held
no place for a First Maid. “She did not understand, but at last she agreed. I almost thought Sulin would change her mind when she realized Reene Harfor meant her to put on a dress, but of course she did not. Sulin has more courage than I. I would rather be made
gai’shain
by a new
Seia Doon.
”

“I,” Jalani said stoutly, “would rather be beaten by the first-brother of my worst enemy in front of my mother every day for a year.”

Nandera’s eyes tightened in disapproval and her fingers twitched, but instead of handtalk she said deliberately, “You boast like a Shaido, girl.” Had Jalani been older, the three calculated insults might have caused trouble, but instead she squeezed her eyes shut to hide the sight of those who had heard her shamed.

Rand scrubbed fingers through his hair. “Reene didn’t understand? I don’t understand, Nandera. Why is she doing this? Has she given up the spear? If she’s married an Andorman”—stranger things had happened around him—“I’ll give her enough gold to buy a farm or whatever they want. She doesn’t have to become a servant.” Jalani’s eyes shot open, and the three women were looking at him as if
he
was the one mad.

“Sulin is meeting her
toh
, Rand al’Thor,” Aviendha said firmly; she stood very straight and met his gaze directly, a good imitation of Amys. Only there was less imitation in it every day and more her. “It does not concern you.”

Jalani nodded a very definite agreement. Nandera only stood there, idly examining a spearpoint.

“Sulin concerns me,” he told them. “If something happened to her—” Suddenly he remembered the exchange he had overheard before going to Shadar Logoth. Nandera had accused Sulin of speaking to
gai’shain
as
Far Dareis Mai
, and Sulin admitted it and said they would deal with it later. He had not seen Sulin since returning from Shadar Logoth, but he had assumed she was angry with him and simply letting others do the work of guarding him. He should have known better. Being around any Aiel for long would teach you some of
ji’e’toh
, and Maidens were touchier than anyone, except maybe Stone Dogs and Black Eyes. Then there was Aviendha and her attempts to turn him into an Aiel.

This situation was simple, or as simple as anything ever was in
ji’e’toh.
If he had not been so caught up in himself, he would have realized from the first. You could remind even a roofmistress who she was every day she wore
gai’shain
white—it was deeply shaming, but permitted, even encouraged sometimes—yet for the members of nine of the thirteen societies, that reminder was a deep dishonor except under a handful of circumstances he
could not recall.
Far Dareis Mai
was most definitely one of the nine. It was one of the few ways to incur
toh
toward a
gai’shain
, but that was considered the hardest obligation of all to meet. Seemingly Sulin had chosen to meet it by accepting a greater shame, in Aiel eyes, than she had given. It was her
toh
, so her choice how to meet it, her choice how long she continued to do what she despised. Who knew the worth of her honor or the depth of her obligation better than she herself? Still, she had only done what she did in the first place because he had not allowed her enough time. “It is my fault,” he said.

That was the wrong thing to say. Jalani gave him a startled stare. Aviendha flushed with embarrassment; she continually drove home that there were no excuses under
ji’e’toh.
If saving your child brought an obligation to a blood enemy, you paid the price without quibble.

The look Nandera shot at Aviendha could charitably be called disparaging. “If you stopped daydreaming about his eyebrows, you would teach him better.”

Aviendha’s face went dark with indignation, but Nandera flashed hand-talk at Jalani, which made Jalani throw back her head and laugh, and made the crimson in Aviendha’s cheeks brighten and return to pure embarrassment. Rand half-expected to hear an offer to dance spears. Well, not that exactly; Aviendha had taught him that neither Wise Ones nor their apprentices did that sort of thing. But it would not surprise him if she boxed Nandera’s ears.

He spoke quickly to forestall any such thing. “Since I caused Sulin to do what she did, don’t I have
toh
toward her?”

Apparently it was possible to make a bigger fool of himself than he already had. Somehow Aviendha’s face grew redder still, and Jalani took a sudden interest in the carpet under her feet. Even Nandera looked a little chagrined at his ignorance. You could be told that you had
toh
, though that was insulting, or you could be reminded of it, but asking meant that you did not know. Well, he knew that he did. He could begin by ordering Sulin out of that ridiculous job as a servant, letting her put on
cadin’sor
again, and. . . . And stop her from meeting her
toh.
Anything he did to lighten her burden would interfere with her honor. Her
toh
, her choice. There was something in that, but he could not see what. Maybe he could ask Aviendha. Later, when she would not die from mortification. All three women’s faces made it clear he had embarrassed her more than enough for the time being. Light, what a mess.

Wondering how he could find a way out, he realized he still held the letter Sulin had brought. He thrust it into a pocket and unbuckled his
sword belt to lay it atop the Dragon Scepter, then retrieved the parchment. Who would send him a message by a rider who did not even stop for breakfast? There was nothing on the outside, no name; only the now vanished courier could have said who it was directed to. Once more the seal was nothing he recognized, some sort of flower impressed in purple wax, but the parchment itself was heavy, of the most expensive sort. The contents, in a fine lacy hand, brought a thoughtful smile.

Cousin,

The times are delicate, but I felt I must write to assure you of my goodwill, and to express my hopes of yours in return. Never fear; I know you and acknowledge you, but there are those who would not smile on anyone who approached you save through them. I ask nothing save that you hold my confidences in the fires of your heart.

Alliandre Maritha