Microsoft Word - Document1 (15 page)

Elaida allowed her to live through the night, at least she could let Siuan know what had

happened to her—and likely to Leane, as well. She could let Siuan know they had been

betrayed. And pray that Siuan could track down the betrayer. Pray that the rebellion

would not collapse. She offered a small prayer for that on the spot. It was much more

important than the other.

By the time the coachman reined in the team, she had recovered enough to follow

Katerine and Pritalle from the coach unaided, though her head still felt a trifle thick. She

could stand, but she doubted she had the strength to run far, not that trying would achieve

anything beyond being halted after a few steps. So she stood calmly beside the dark-

lacquered coach and waited as patiently as the four-horse team in their harness. After all,

she was harnessed, too, in a manner of speaking. The White Tower loomed over them, a

thick pale shaft rearing into the night. Few of its windows were alight, but some of those

were near the very top, perhaps in the rooms Elaida occupied. It was very strange. She

was a prisoner and unlikely to live much longer, yet she felt she had come home. The

Tower seemed to renew her vigor.

Two Tower-liveried backriders, the Flame of Tar Valon on their chests, had dismounted

from the rear of the coach to unfold the steps, and they stood offering a white-gloved

hand to each woman who dismounted, but only Berisha availed herself, and only because

it let her reach the paving stones quickly while eyeing the other sisters, Egwene

suspected. Barasine gave the fellows such looks that one gulped audibly and the other’s

face grew pale. Felaana, busy trying to watch the others, merely waved the men away

irritably. All five still held saidar, even here.

They were at the main rear entrance, stone-railed marble stairs descending from the

second level beneath four massive bronze lanterns that cast a wide pool of flickering

light, and to her surprise, a single novice stood alone at the foot of the stairs, clutching

her white cloak against a slight chill in the air. She had more than half-expected Elaida to

meet them in person, to gloat over her capture with a retinue of sycophants. That the

novice was Nicola Treehill was a second surprise. The last place she would have thought

to find the runaway was inside the White Tower itself.

By the way Nicola’s eyes widened when Egwene emerged from the coach, the novice

was more startled than herself, but she dropped a neat if hasty curtsey to the sisters. “The

Amyrlin says she…she is to be handed over to the Mistress of Novices, Katerine Sedai.

She says that Silviana Sedai has her instructions.”

“So, it seems you’ll be birched tonight, at least,” Katerine murmured with a smile.

Egwene wondered whether the woman hated her personally, or for what she represented,

or simply hated everyone. Birched. She had never seen it done, but she had heard a

description. It sounded extremely painful. She met Katerine’s gaze levelly, and after a

moment the smile faded. The woman looked about to strike her again. The Aiel had a

way of dealing with pain. They embraced it, gave themselves over to it without fighting

or even trying to hold back screams. Perhaps that would help. The Wise Ones said that

way the pain could be cast off without keeping its hold on you.

“If Elaida means to drag this out unnecessarily, I’ll have no more part in it tonight,”

Felaana announced, frowning at everyone in sight including Nicola. “If the girl is to be

stilled and executed, that should be sufficient.” Gathering her skirts, the yellow-haired

sister darted past Nicola up the stairs. Actually running! The glow of saidar still

surrounded her as she vanished inside.

“I agree,” Pritalle said coolly. “Harril, I think I’ll walk with you while you stable

Bloodlance.” A dark, stocky man, who had come out of the darkness leading a tall bay,

bowed to her. Stone-faced, he wore a Warder’s chameleon cloak that made most of him

seem not to be there when he stood still and rippled with colors when he moved. Silently

he followed Pritalle off into the night, but watching over his shoulder, guarding Pritalle’s

back. The light remained around her, too. There was something here that Egwene was

missing.

Suddenly, Nicola spread her skirts in another curtsy, deeper this time, and words burst

out of her in a rush. “I’m sorry I ran away, Mother. I thought they’d let me go faster here.

Areina and I thought—”

“Don’t call her that!” Katerine barked, and a switch of Air caught the novice across the

bottom hard enough to make her squeal and jump. “If you’re attending the Amyrlin Seat

tonight, child, get back to her and tell her I said her orders will be carried out. Now, run!”

With one last, frantic glance at Egwene, Nicola gathered her cloak and her skirts and

went scrambling up the stairs so fast that twice she stumbled and nearly fell. Poor Nicola.

Her hopes had surely been disappointed, and if the Tower discovered her age…. She

must have lied about that to betaken in; lying was one of her several bad habits. Egwene

dismissed the girl from her mind. Nicola was no longer her concern.

“There was no need to frighten the child out of her wits,” Berisha said, surprisingly.

“Novices need to be guided, not bludgeoned.” A far cry from her views on the law.

Katerine and Barasine rounded on the Gray together, staring at her intently. Only two

cats, now, but rather than another cat, they saw a mouse.

“Do you mean to come with us to Silviana alone?” Katerine asked with a decidedly

unpleasant smile twisting her lips.

“Aren’t you afraid, Gray?” Barasine said, a touch of mockery in her voice. For some

reason, she swung one arm a little so the long fringe of her shawl swayed. “Just the one

of you, and two of us?”

The two backriders stood like statues, like men who desired heartily to be anywhere else

and hoped to remain unnoticed if sufficiently still.

Berisha was no taller than Egwene, but she drew herself up and clutched her shawl

around her “Threats are specifically prohibited by Tower—”

“Did Barasine threaten you?” Katerine cut in softly. Softly, yet with sharp steel wrapped

in it. “She just asked whether you are afraid. Should you be?”

Berisha licked her lips uneasily. Her face was bloodless, and her eyes grew wider and

wider, as though she saw things she had no wish to see. “I…I think I will take a walk in

the grounds,” she said at last, in a strangled voice, and sidled away without ever taking

her eyes from the two Reds. Katerine gave a small, satisfied laugh.

This was absolute madness! Even sisters who hated one another to the toenails did not

behave in this fashion. No woman who gave in to fear as easily as Berisha had could ever

have become Aes Sedai in the first place. Something was wrong in the Tower. Very

wrong.

“Bring her,” Katerine said, starting up the stairs.

At last releasing saidar, Barasine gripped Egwene’s arm tightly and followed. There was

no choice save to gather her divided skirts and go along without a struggle. Yet her spirits

were oddly buoyant.

Entering the Tower truly did feel like returning home. The white walls with their friezes

and tapestries, the brightly colored floor tiles, seemed as familiar as her mother’s kitchen.

More so, in a way; it had been far longer since she saw her mother’s kitchen than these

hallways. She took in the strength of home with every breath. But there was strangeness,

too. The stand-lamps were all alight, and the hour could not be all that late, yet she saw

no one. There were always a few sisters gliding along the corridors, even in the dead of

night. She remembered that vividly, catching sight of some sister while running on an

errand in the small hours and despairing that she would ever be so graceful, so queenly.

Aes Sedai kept their own hours, and some Browns hardly liked being awake during

daylight at all. Night held fewer distractions from their studies, fewer interruptions to

their reading. But there was no one. Neither Katerine nor Barasine made any comment as

they walked along hallways lifeless except for the three of them. Apparently this silent

emptiness was a matter of course, now.

As they reached pale stone stairs set in an alcove, another sister finally appeared,

climbing from below. A plump woman in a red-slashed riding dress, with a mouth that

looked ready to smile, she wore her shawl, edged with long red silk fringe, draped along

her arms. Katerine and the others might well have worn theirs to mark them out clearly at

the docks—no one in Tar Valon would bother a woman wearing a fringed shawl, and

most kept clear, if they could, particularly men—but why here?

The newcomer’s thick black eyebrows raised over bright blue eyes at the sight of

Egwene, and she planted her fists on ample hips, letting her shawl slide to her elbows.

Egwene did not think she had ever seen the woman before, but apparently, the reverse

was not true. “Why, that’s the al’Vere girl. They sent her to Southharbor? Elaida will

give you a pretty for this night’s work; yes, she will. But look at her. Look at how she

stands so. You’d think the pair of you were an honor guard for escort. I’d have thought

she’d be weeping and wailing for mercy.”

“I believe the herb is still dulling her senses,” Katerine muttered with a sidelong scowl

for Egwene. “She doesn’t seem to realize her situation.” Barasine, still holding Egwene’s

arm, gave her a vigorous shake, but after a small stagger she managed to catch her

balance and kept her face smooth, ignoring the taller woman’s glares.

“In shock,” the plump Red said, nodding. She did not sound exactly sympathetic, but

after Katerine, she was near enough. “I’ve seen that before.”

“How did matters go at Northharbor, Melare?” Barasine asked.

“Not so well as with you, it seems. With everyone else squealing to themselves like

shoats caught under a fence over there being two of us, I was afraid we’d scare off who

we were trying to catch. It’s a good thing there were two of us who would talk to one

another. As it was, all we caught was a wilder, and not before she turned half the harbor

chain to cuendillar. We ended up near killing the coach-horses by galloping back like,

well, like we’d caught your prize. Zanica insisted. Even put her Warder up in place of the

coachman.”

“A wilder,” Katerine said contemptuously.

“Only half?” Relief stood out clearly in Barasine’s voice. “Then Northharbor isn’t

blocked.”

Melare’s eyebrows climbed again as the implications sank in. “We’ll see how clear it is

in the morning,” she said slowly, “when they let down the half that’s still iron. The rest of

it stands out stiff like, well, like a bar of cuendillar. Myself, I doubt any but smaller

vessels will be able to cross.” She shook her head with a puzzled expression. “There was

something strange, though. More than strange. We couldn’t find the wilder, at first. We

couldn’t feel her channeling. There was no glow around her, and we couldn’t see her

weaves. The chain just started turning white. If Arebis’s Warder hadn’t spotted the boat,

she might have finished and gotten away.”

“Clever Leane,” Egwene murmured. For an instant, she squeezed her eyes shut. Leane

had prepared everything in advance, before coming in sight of the harbor, all inverted and

her ability masked. If she herself had been as clever, she likely would have escaped

cleanly. But then, hindsight always saw furthest.

“That’s the name she gave,” Melare said, frowning. The woman’s eyebrows, like dark

caterpillars, were very expressive. “Leane Sharif. Of the Green Ajah. Two very stupid

lies. Desala is striping her from top to bottom down there, but she won’t budge. I had to

come up for a breath. I never liked flogging, even for one like that. Do you know this

trick of hers, child? How to hide your weaves?”

Oh, Light! They thought Leane was a wilder pretending to be Aes Sedai. “She’s telling

the truth. Stilling cost her the ageless look and made her appear younger. She was Healed

by Nynaeve al’Meara, and since she was no longer of the Blue, she chose a new Ajah.

Ask her questions only Leane Sharif could know the answers—” Speech ended for her as

a ball of Air filled her mouth, forcing her jaws wide till they creaked.

“We don’t have to listen to this nonsense,” Katerine growled.

Melare stared into Egwene’s eyes, though. “It sounds senseless, to be sure,” she said after

a moment, “but I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to ask a few questions besides, ‘What is your