Shadow Rising, The (21 page)
Read Shadow Rising, The Online
Authors: Robert Jordan
Elayne looked from one to the other of them. “In truth, I feared you might tell me I was foolish, fretting over a thing like this when we have the Black Ajah to worry about.”
A slight flicker of Egwene’s eyes said the thought had occurred to her, but Nynaeve said, “Rand is not the only one who might die next year, or next month, We might, too. Times are not what they were, and we cannot be, either. If you sit and wish for what you want, you may not see it this side of the grave.”
It was a chilling sort of reassurance, but Elayne nodded. She was
not
being silly. If only the Black Ajah could be settled so easily. She pressed her empty silver goblet to her forehead for the coolness. What were they to do?
not
being silly. If only the Black Ajah could be settled so easily. She pressed her empty silver goblet to her forehead for the coolness. What were they to do?
Playing with Fire
W
ith the sun barely above the horizon the next morning, Egwene presented herself at the doors to Rand’s chambers, followed by a foot-dragging Elayne. The Daughter-Heir wore a long-sleeved dress of pale blue silk, cut in the Tairen fashion, and pulled low after some little discussion. A necklace of sapphires like a deep morning sky, and another strand woven into her red-gold curls, showed up the blue of her eyes. Despite the damp warmth, Egwene wore a plain, deep red scarf, as large as a shawl, around her shoulders. Aviendha had supplied the scarf, and the sapphires too. Surprisingly, the Aiel woman had a tidy store of such things somehow.
ith the sun barely above the horizon the next morning, Egwene presented herself at the doors to Rand’s chambers, followed by a foot-dragging Elayne. The Daughter-Heir wore a long-sleeved dress of pale blue silk, cut in the Tairen fashion, and pulled low after some little discussion. A necklace of sapphires like a deep morning sky, and another strand woven into her red-gold curls, showed up the blue of her eyes. Despite the damp warmth, Egwene wore a plain, deep red scarf, as large as a shawl, around her shoulders. Aviendha had supplied the scarf, and the sapphires too. Surprisingly, the Aiel woman had a tidy store of such things somehow.
For all she had known they were there, Egwene gave a start when the Aiel guards glided to their feet with startling suddenness. Elayne let out a small gasp, but quickly eyed them with that regal bearing she managed so well. It seemed to have no effect on these sun-dark men. The six were
Shae’en M’taal
, Stone Dogs, and appeared relaxed for Aiel, meaning they seemed to be looking everywhere, seemed ready to move in any direction.
Shae’en M’taal
, Stone Dogs, and appeared relaxed for Aiel, meaning they seemed to be looking everywhere, seemed ready to move in any direction.
Egwene drew herself up in imitation of Elayne—she did wish she could do that as well as the Daughter-Heir—and announced, “I … we … want to see how the Lord Dragon’s wounds are.”
Her remark was plainly foolish, if they knew much about Healing, but that likelihood was small; few people did, and Aiel probably less than
most. She had not intended to give any reason for being there—it was enough that they thought her Aes Sedai—but when the Aiel appeared almost to spring out of the black marble floor, it suddenly seemed a good idea. Not that they were making any move to stop Elayne and her, of course. But these men were all so tall, so stone-faced, and they carried those short spears and horn bows as if using them would be as natural as breathing, and as easy. With those light-colored eyes regarding her so intently, it was all too easy to remember stories of black-veiled Aiel, without mercy or pity, of the Aiel War and the men like these who had destroyed every army sent against them until the last, who had only turned back to the Waste after fighting the allied nations to a standstill during three blood-soaked days and nights before Tar Valon itself. She very nearly embraced
saidar
.
most. She had not intended to give any reason for being there—it was enough that they thought her Aes Sedai—but when the Aiel appeared almost to spring out of the black marble floor, it suddenly seemed a good idea. Not that they were making any move to stop Elayne and her, of course. But these men were all so tall, so stone-faced, and they carried those short spears and horn bows as if using them would be as natural as breathing, and as easy. With those light-colored eyes regarding her so intently, it was all too easy to remember stories of black-veiled Aiel, without mercy or pity, of the Aiel War and the men like these who had destroyed every army sent against them until the last, who had only turned back to the Waste after fighting the allied nations to a standstill during three blood-soaked days and nights before Tar Valon itself. She very nearly embraced
saidar
.
Gaul, the Stone Dogs’ leader, nodded, looking down at Elayne and her with a touch of respect. He was a handsome man, in a rugged way, a little older than Nynaeve, with eyes as green and clear as polished gems and long eyelashes so dark they seemed to outline his eyes in black. “They may be troubling him. He is in a foul mood this morning.” Gaul grinned, just a quick flash of white teeth, in understanding of a temper when wounded. “He has chased off a group of these High Lords already, and threw one of them out himself. What was his name?”
“Torean,” another, even taller man replied. He had an arrow nocked, the short, curved bow held almost casually. His gray eyes rested on the two women for an instant, then went back to searching among the anteroom’s columns.
“Torean,” Gaul agreed. “I thought he would slide as far as those pretty carvings …” He pointed a spear to the ring of stiff-standing Defenders. “ … but he came short by three paces. I lost a good Tairen hanging, all hawks in gold thread, to Mangin.” The taller man gave a brief, contented smile.
Egwene blinked at the image of Rand physically pitching a High Lord across the floor. He had never been violent; far from it. How much had he changed? She had been too busy with Joiya and Amico, and he too busy with Moiraine or Lan or the High Lords, to do more than speak in passing, a few words about home here and there, about how the Bel Tine festival might have gone this year and what Sunday would be like. It had all been so brief. How much had he changed?
“We have to see him,” Elayne said, a slight tremor in her voice.
Gaul made a bow, grounding the point of one spear on the black marble. “Of course, Aes Sedai.”
It was with some trepidation that Egwene entered Rand’s chambers, and Elayne’s face spoke volumes of the effort those few steps took.
No evidence of last night’s horror remained, unless it was the absence of mirrors; lighter patches marked the wall panels where those hanging there had been taken away. Not that the room came anywhere near neatness; books lay everywhere, on everything, some lying open as if abandoned in the middle of a page, and the bed was still unmade. The crimson draperies were pulled open on all the windows, facing westward toward the river that was Tear’s heartvein, and
Callandor
sparkled like polished crystal on a huge gilded stand of surpassing gaudiness. Egwene thought the stand the ugliest thing she had ever seen decorating a room—until she glimpsed the silver wolves savaging a golden stag on the mantel above the fireplace. Scant breezes off the river kept the room surprisingly cool compared to the rest of the Stone.
Callandor
sparkled like polished crystal on a huge gilded stand of surpassing gaudiness. Egwene thought the stand the ugliest thing she had ever seen decorating a room—until she glimpsed the silver wolves savaging a golden stag on the mantel above the fireplace. Scant breezes off the river kept the room surprisingly cool compared to the rest of the Stone.
Rand sat in his shirtsleeves, sprawled in a chair with one leg over the arm and a leather-bound book propped against his knee. At the sound of their footsteps, he snapped the book shut and dropped it among the others on the scroll-worked carpet, bounding to his feet ready to fight. The scowl on his face faded as he took in who they were.
For the first time in the Stone, Egwene looked for changes in him and found them. How many months before then since she had seen him last? Enough for his face to have grown harder, for the openness that had once been there to fade. He moved differently, too, a little like Lan, a little like the Aiel. With his height and his reddish hair, and eyes that seemed now blue, now gray, as the light took them, he looked all too much like an Aielman, too much for comfort. But had he changed inside?
“I thought you were … someone else,” he mumbled, sharing out embarrassed glances between them. That was the Rand she knew, even to the flush that rose in his cheeks every time he looked at her or Elayne, either one. “Some … people want things I can’t give. Things I
will
not give.” Suspicion grew on his face with shocking suddenness, and his tone hardened. “What do
you
want? Did Moiraine send you? Are you supposed to convince me to do what she wants?”
will
not give.” Suspicion grew on his face with shocking suddenness, and his tone hardened. “What do
you
want? Did Moiraine send you? Are you supposed to convince me to do what she wants?”
“Don’t be a goose,” Egwene said sharply before she thought. “I do not want you to start a war!”
Elayne added in pleading tones, “We came to … to help you, if we can.” That was one of their reasons, and the easiest to bring up, they had decided over breakfast.
“You know about her plans for …” he began roughly, then made a sudden shift. “Help me? How? That is what Moiraine says.”
Egwene sternly folded her arms beneath her breasts, holding the scarf tight, in the way Nynaeve used to address the Village Council when she meant to have her way no matter how stubborn they were. It was too late to start over; the only thing was to go on as she had begun. “I told you not to be a fool, Rand al’Thor. You may have Tairens bowing to your boots, but I remember when Nynaeve switched your bottom for letting Mat talk you into stealing a jar of apple brandy.” Elayne kept her face carefully composed. Too carefully; it was plain to Egwene that she wanted to laugh out loud.
Rand did not notice, of course. Men never did. He grinned at Egwene, close to laughing himself. “We had just turned thirteen. She found us asleep behind your father’s stable, and our heads hurt so much we didn’t even feel her switch.” That was not at all the way Egwene recalled it. “Not like when you threw that bowl at her head. Remember? She’d dosed you with dog-weed tea because you had been moping about for a week, and as soon as you tasted it, you hit her with her best bowl. Light, did you squeal! When was that? Two years ago come this—”
“We are not here to talk over old times,” Egwene said, shifting the scarf irritably. It was thin wool, but still far too hot. Really, he did have the habit of remembering the most unfortunate things.
He grinned as if he knew what she was thinking, and went on in better humor. “You are here to help me, you say. With what? I don’t suppose you know how to make a High Lord keep his word when I’m not staring over his shoulder. Or how to stop unwanted dreams? I could surely use help with—” Eyes darting to Elayne and back to her, he made another abrupt shift. “What about the Old Tongue? Did you learn any of that in the White Tower?” Without waiting for an answer he began rooting through the volumes scattered across the carpet. There were more on the chairs, among the tumbled bedclothes. “I have a copy here … somewhere … of … .”
“Rand.” Egwene raised her voice. “Rand, I cannot read the Old Tongue.” She shot a look at Elayne, warning her not to admit to any such knowledge. They had not come to translate the Prophecies of the Dragon for him. The sapphires in the Daughter-Heir’s hair swayed as she nodded agreement. “We had other things to learn.”
He straightened from the books with a sigh. “It was too much to hope.” For a moment he seemed on the point of saying more, but stared at his boots. Egwene wondered how he managed to deal with the High Lords in all their arrogance if she and Elayne put him so out of countenance.
“We came to help you with channeling,” she told him. “With the Power.” What Moiraine claimed was supposed to be true; a woman could not teach a man to channel any more than she could teach him how to bear a child. Egwene was not so sure. She had felt something woven from
saidin
, once. Or rather, she had felt nothing, something blocking her own flows as surely as stone dammed water. But she had learned as much outside the Tower as within; surely in her knowledge there was something she could teach him, some guidance she could offer.
saidin
, once. Or rather, she had felt nothing, something blocking her own flows as surely as stone dammed water. But she had learned as much outside the Tower as within; surely in her knowledge there was something she could teach him, some guidance she could offer.
“If we can,” Elayne added.
Suspicion flashed across his face again. It was unnerving how his mood changed so quickly. “I have more chance of reading the Old Tongue than you do of … . Are you sure this isn’t Moiraine’s doing? Did she send you here? Thinks she can convince me by some roundabout way, does she? Some twisty Aes Sedai plot I’ll not see the point of until I am mired in it?” He grunted sourly and pulled a dark green coat from the floor behind one of the chairs, shrugging into it hastily. “I agreed to meet some more of the High Lords this morning. If I don’t keep an eye on them, they just find ways to get around what I want. They’ll learn sooner or later. I rule Tear, now. Me. The Dragon Reborn. I will teach them. You will have to excuse me.”
Egwene wanted to shake him. He ruled Tear? Well, perhaps he did, if it came to that, but she remembered a boy with a lamb nestled inside his coat, proud as a rooster because he had driven off the wolf that tried to take it. He was a shepherd, not a king, and even if he had call to give himself airs, it was no good to him that he did.
She was about to tell him as much, but before she could Elayne spoke up fiercely. “No one sent us. No one. We came because … because we care for you. Perhaps it will not work, but you can try. If I … if we care enough to try, you can try, too. Is it so unimportant to you that you cannot spare us an hour? For you life?”
He stopped buttoning up his coat, staring at the Daughter-Heir so intently that for a moment Egwene thought he had forgotten she was there. With a shiver he pulled his eyes away. Glancing at Egwene, he shifted his feet and frowned at the floor. “I will try,” he muttered. “It’ll do no good, but I will … . What do you want me to do?”
Egwene drew a deep breath. She had not thought convincing him would be this easy; he had always been like a boulder buried in mud when he decided to dig his heels in, which he did far too often.
“Look at me,” she said, embracing
saidar
. She let the Power fill her as completely as it ever had, more completely, accepting every drop she could
hold; it was as if light suffused every particle of her, as if the Light itself filled every cranny. Life seemed to burst inside her like fireworks. She had never before let this much in. It was a shock to realize she was not quivering; surely she could not bear this glorious sweetness. She wanted to revel in it, to dance and sing, to simply lie back and let it roll through her, over her. She made herself speak. “What do you see? What do you feel? Look at me, Rand!”
saidar
. She let the Power fill her as completely as it ever had, more completely, accepting every drop she could
hold; it was as if light suffused every particle of her, as if the Light itself filled every cranny. Life seemed to burst inside her like fireworks. She had never before let this much in. It was a shock to realize she was not quivering; surely she could not bear this glorious sweetness. She wanted to revel in it, to dance and sing, to simply lie back and let it roll through her, over her. She made herself speak. “What do you see? What do you feel? Look at me, Rand!”
He lifted his head slowly, still frowning. “I see you. What am I supposed to see? Are you touching the Source? Egwene, Moiraine has channeled around me a hundred times, and I never saw anything. Except what she did. It doesn’t work that way. Even I know that much.”
“I am stronger than Moiraine,” she told him firmly. “She would be whimpering on the floor, or insensible, if she tried to hold as much as I hold now.” It was true, though she had never before rated the Aes Sedai’s ability so closely.
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