Lord of Chaos (96 page)

From the corner of her eye she saw Gareth Bryne trotting up the stairs at the side of the room. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, and hurried after him.

Even hurrying meant stopping every two steps to accept another congratulation all the way to the stairs, so she did not catch up until he was striding down a corridor on the second floor. Rushing ahead, she planted herself in front of him. His mostly gray hair was windblown, his square face and worn buff coat dusty. He looked as solid as stone.

Lifting a sheaf of papers, he said, “I have to drop this off, Siuan,” and tried to step around her.

She moved to block him. “I’ve been Healed. I can channel again.”

He nodded; just nodded! “I heard some talk. I suppose this means you’ll be channeling my shirts clean from now on. Maybe they actually will be clean now. I’ve regretted letting Min go so easily.”

Siuan stared at him. The man was no fool. Why was he pretending not to understand? “I am Aes Sedai again. Do you really expect an Aes Sedai to do your
laundry
?”

Just to drive it home, she embraced
saidar
—that missed sweetness was so wonderful she shivered—wrapped him in flows of Air, and lifted him. Tried to lift him. Gaping, she drew more, tried harder, until the sweetness stabbed like a thousand hooks. His boots never stirred from the floor.

It was impossible. True, the simple act of picking something up was one of the hardest in channeling, but she had been able to lift nearly three times her own weight.

“Is this supposed to impress me,” Bryne said calmly, “or frighten me? Sheriam and her friends gave their word, the Hall gave its word, and more importantly, you gave yours, Siuan. I wouldn’t let you get away from me if you were the Amyrlin again. Now undo whatever it is you’ve done, or when I get free of it, I’ll turn you upside down and smack you for being childish. You’re very seldom childish, so you needn’t think I will let you start now.”

In a near daze, she released the Source. Not for his threat—he was capable of it; he had done it before; but not for that—and not for shock at being unable to pick him up. Tears seemed to well up in her like a fountain; she hoped that letting go of
saidar
might stop them. A few still slid down her cheeks, though, however hard she blinked.

Gareth was cupping her face in his hands before she knew he had moved. “Light, woman, don’t, tell me I frightened you. I didn’t think being dropped in a pit with a pack of leopards would frighten you.”

“I am not frightened,” she said stiffly. Good; she could still lie. Tears, building inside.

“We have to work out some way not to be at one another’s throat all the time,” he said quietly.

“There is no reason for us to work out anything.” They were coming. They were coming. Oh, Light, she could not let him see. “Just leave me alone, please. Please, just go.” For a wonder, he hesitated only a moment before doing as she asked.

With the sound of his boots behind her, she managed to make it around the corner into the crossing hallway before the dam burst and she sank to her knees weeping piteously. She knew what it was, now. Alric, her Warder. Her dead Warder, murdered when Elaida deposed her. She could lie—the Three Oaths were still gone—but some part of her bond to Alric, a bond flesh to flesh and mind to mind, had been resurrected. The pain of his death, the pain first masked by the shock of what Elaida intended and then buried by stilling, that pain filled her to the brim. Huddled against the wall, bawling, she was only glad Gareth was not seeing this.
I have no time to fall in love, burn him!

The thought was a bucket of cold water in her face. The pain remained, but the tears stopped, and she scrambled to her feet. Love? That was as impossible as . . . as. . . . She could not think of anything impossible enough. The
man
was impossible!

Suddenly she realized Leane was standing not two paces away, watching. Siuan made one effort at wiping the tears from her face, then gave it up. There was nothing but sympathy on Leane’s face. “How did you deal with Anjen’s . . . death, Leane?” That had been fifteen years ago now.

“I cried,” Leane said. “For a month I held it in during the day, and spent the night in a quivering ball of tears in the middle of my bed. After I had torn the sheets to shreds. For three more, I could find tears in my eyes without warning. Over a year passed before I stopped hurting. That’s why I never bonded another. I did not think I could live through that again. It does pass, Siuan.” She found a roguish smile somewhere. “Now I think I could manage two or three Warders, if not four.”

Siuan nodded. She could cry at night. As for Gareth bloody Bryne. . . . There was no “as for.” There was not! “Do you think they’re ready?” They had had only a moment to talk below. This hook had to be set quickly or it would not be set at all.

“Perhaps. I did not have much time. And I had to be careful.” Leane paused. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Siuan? It’s changing everything we have worked for, on no notice at all, and. . . . I am not as strong as I was, Siuan, and neither are you. Most of the women here can channel more than either of us, now. Light, I think some of the Accepted can, not even counting Elayne or Nynaeve.”

“I know,” Siuan said. It had to be risked. The other plan had only been a stop-gap, because she was no longer Aes Sedai. But now she was Aes Sedai again, and she had been deposed with only the barest nod to Tower law. If she was Aes Sedai again, was she not Amyrlin again as well?

Squaring her shoulders, she went below to do battle with the Hall.

Lying on her bed in her shift, Elayne stifled a yawn and went back to rubbing the cream Leane had given her into her hands. It seemed to do some good; at least they
felt
softer. A night breeze stirred through the window, making the lone candle flicker. If anything, the air only made the room hotter.

Nynaeve staggered in, banged the door shut, flung herself across her bed, and lay staring at Elayne. “Magla is the most contemptible, hateful,
low
woman in the entire world,” she mumbled. “No, Larissa is. No, it’s Romanda.”

“I take it they made you angry enough to channel.” Nynaeve grunted, with the vilest expression, and Elayne hurried on. “How many did you demonstrate for? I expected you long ago. I looked for you at dinner, but I couldn’t find you.”

“I had a roll for dinner,” Nynaeve muttered. “One roll! I demonstrated
for all of them, every last Yellow in Salidar. Only they aren’t satisfied. They want me one at a time. They set up a rotating schedule. Larissa has me tomorrow morning—before breakfast!—and Zenare right after, then. . . . They discussed how to make me angry as if I was not there!” She raised her head from the coverlet, looking hunted. “Elayne, they are competing over who is going to break my block. They’re like boys trying to catch a greased pig on feastday, and I am the pig!”

Yawning, Elayne handed her the pot of hand cream, and after a moment Nynaeve rolled over and began rubbing it on. Nynaeve still had her time at the pots, too.

“I’m sorry I didn’t do as you wanted days ago, Nynaeve. We could have woven disguises like Moghedien’s and walked right past everybody.” Nynaeve’s hands stopped. “What is the matter, Nynaeve?”

“I never thought of that. I never
thought
of it!”

“You didn’t? I was sure you had. You learned it first, after all.”

“I tried not even to think about what we couldn’t tell the sisters.” Nynaeve’s voice was flat as ice and about as cold and hard. “And now it is too late. I’m too tired to channel if you set my hair on fire, and if they have their way, I will be too tired forever. The only reason they let me go tonight was that I couldn’t find
saidar
even when Nisao. . . .” She shuddered, and then her hands began moving again, smoothing in the cream.

Elayne let out a small breath. She had very nearly put her foot in it. She was tired, too. Admitting you had been wrong always made the other person feel better, but she hadn’t meant to mention using
saidar
for disguises. From the first she had been afraid Nynaeve would do that. Here, at the very least, they could keep an eye on what the Salidar Aes Sedai intended, and maybe pass word to Rand through Egwene, once she returned to
Tel’aran’rhiod.
At the worst, they might have some small influence, through Siuan and Leane.

As if the thought were a summons, the door opened to admit just those women. Leane carried a wooden tray with bread and a bowl of soup, a red pottery cup and a white-glazed pitcher. There was even a sprig of green leaves in a tiny blue vase. “Siuan and I thought you might be hungry, Nynaeve. I hear the Yellows used you hard.”

Elayne was uncertain whether she should rise or not. It was just Siuan and Leane, but they were Aes Sedai again. At least, she thought they were. The two solved the problem by sitting, Siuan on the foot of Elayne’s bed, Leane on Nynaeve’s. Nynaeve eyed them both suspiciously before sitting up with her back against the wall and taking the tray on her knees.

“I heard a rumor you addressed the Hall, Siuan,” Elayne said carefully. “Should we have curtsied?”

“Do you mean are we Aes Sedai again, girl? We are. They wrangled like fishwives on Sunday, but they granted that much at least.” Siuan exchanged glances with Leane, and Siuan’s cheeks colored faintly. Elayne suspected she would never learn what had not been granted.

“Myrelle was kind enough to find me and let me know,” Leane said into the momentary silence. “I think I am going to choose Green.”

Nynaeve choked around her spoon. “What do you mean? Can you change Ajahs?”

“No, you cannot,” Siuan told her. “But what the Hall decided is that although we are Aes Sedai, for a time we weren’t. And since they insist on believing that codswallop was legal, all our ties, binds, associations and titles went overboard.” Her voice was wry enough to rasp wood. “Tomorrow I ask the Blues whether they’ll have me back. I’ve never heard of an Ajah turning anybody down—by the time you’re raised from Accepted, you’ve been guided to the right Ajah whether you know it or not—but the way matters are proceeding, I wouldn’t be completely surprised if they slammed the door on my foot.”

“How
are
matters proceeding?” Elayne asked. There was something here. Siuan bullied, prodded, twisted your arm; she did not bring soup, sit on your bed and chat like a friend. “I thought everything was going as well as could be expected.” Nynaeve gave her a stare that managed to be incredulous and haggard at the same time. Well, Nynaeve ought to know what she meant.

Siuan twisted around to face her, but she included Nynaeve as well. “I went by Logain’s house. Six sisters are maintaining his shield, the same as when he was captured. He tried to break free when he found out we knew he had been Healed, and they said if only five had been holding the shield, he might have. So he’s as strong as he ever was, or close enough to make no difference. I’m not. Neither is Siuan. I want you to try again, Nynaeve.”

“I knew it!” Nynaeve flung her spoon down on the tray. “I knew you had some reason for this! Well, I’m too tired to channel, and it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t. You can’t Heal what has been Healed. You get out of here, and take your vile-tasting soup with you!” Less than half the vile-tasting soup remained, and it was a big bowl.

“I know it won’t work!” Siuan snapped back. “This morning I knew stilling couldn’t be Healed!”

“A moment, Siuan,” Leane said. “Nynaeve, do you realize what we are
risking, coming here together? This isn’t a room in an alley with your archer friend standing guard; there are women all through this house, with eyes to see and tongues to talk. If it is found out that Siuan and I have been playing a game with everybody—even ten years from now—well, suffice it to say, Aes Sedai can be given penance, and we would very likely still be on a farm hoeing cabbages after our hair turns white. We came because of what you did for us, to make a fresh start.”

“Why didn’t you go to one of the Yellows?” Elayne asked. “Most of them must know as much about it as Nynaeve by now.” Nynaeve glared indignantly around the spoon. Vile-tasting?

Siuan and Leane exchanged looks, and at last Siuan said reluctantly, “If we go to a sister, everybody knows, soon or late. If Nynaeve does it, maybe anybody who managed to weigh us today will think they were mistaken. Supposedly, all sisters are equal, and there have been Amyrlins who barely managed to channel enough to earn the shawl, but Amyrlins and the heads of Ajahs aside, by custom, if another is stronger in the Power than you, you’re expected to give way to her.”

“I don’t understand,” Elayne said. She was getting quite a lesson out of this; the hierarchy made sense, but she supposed it was one of those things you did not learn until you actually were Aes Sedai. One way and another, she had picked up enough hints to suspect that in many ways your education only began when you put on the shawl. “If Nynaeve
can
Heal you again, then you’re stronger.”

Leane shook her head. “No one has ever been Healed from stilling before. Maybe the others will see it, say like being wilders. That puts you a little lower than your strength. Maybe having been weaker will count something. If Nynaeve couldn’t Heal us all the way the first time, maybe she’ll only take us to two-thirds what we were, or half. Even that would be better than now, but still most here would be as strong, and a good many stronger.” Elayne stared, more confused than before. Nynaeve looked as if she had been hit between the eyes.

“Everything goes into it,” Siuan explained. “Who learned fastest, who spent the least time as novice and Accepted. There are all sorts of shadings. You can’t say precisely how strong anyone is. Two women might seem to be the same strength; maybe they are and maybe not, but the only way to say for certain would be a duel, and the Light be blessed, we’re above that. Unless Nynaeve returns us to our full strength, we run the risk of standing fairly low.”

Leane took it up again. “The hierarchy isn’t supposed to rule anything
except everyday life, but it does. Advice from somebody with higher standing is given more weight than from somebody with lower. It did not matter while we were stilled. We had no standing at all; they weighed what we said on merit alone. It will not be that way now.”