WOT Prequel 02 - New Spring

by New Spring [lit]

  Lan returned the lad's bow with equal formality, then had to put up with a

  deluge of questions. Yes, he had fought Aiel, in the south and on the Shienaran

  marches, but they were just men, if dangerous, not ten feet tall; they did veil

  their faces before killing, but they did not eat their dead. No, the White Tower

  was not as high as a mountain, though it was taller than anything made by men

  that Lan had ever seen, even the Stone of Tear. Given a chance, the boy would

  have drained him dry about the Aiel, and the wonders of the great cities in the

  south like Tar Valon and Far Madding. Likely, he would not have believed Chachin

  was as big as either of those.

  "Lord Mandragoran will fill your head to your heart's content later," Brys told

  the boy. "There is someone else he must meet now. Off with you to Mistress Tuval

  and your books."

  Edeyn was exactly as Lan remembered. Oh, ten years older, with touches of white

  streaking her temples and a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, but those

  large dark eyes gripped him. Her ki'sain was still the white of a widow, and her

  hair still hung in black waves below her waist. She wore a red silk gown in the

  Domani style, clinging and little short of sheer. She was beautiful, but even

  she could do nothing here.

  For a moment she merely looked at him, cool and considering, when he made his

  bow. "It would have been . . . easier had you come to me," she murmured, seeming

  not to care whether Brys heard. And then, shockingly, she knelt gracefully and

  took his hands in hers. "Beneath the Light," she announced in a strong, clear

  voice, "I, Edeyn ti Gemallen Arrel, pledge fealty to al'Lan Mandragoran, Lord of

  the Seven Towers, Lord of the Lakes, the true Blade of Malkier. May he sever the

  Shadow!" Even Brys looked startled. A moment of silence held while she kissed

  Lan's fingers, then cheers erupted on every side. Cries of "The Golden Crane!"

  and even "Kandor rides with Malkier!"

  The sound freed him to pull his hands loose, to lift her to her feet. "My Lady,"

  he began in a tight voice.

  "What must be, will be," she said, putting a hand over his lips. And then she

  faded back into the crowd of those who wanted to cluster around him,

  congratulate him, pledge fealty on the spot had he let them.

  Brys rescued him, drawing him off to a long, stone-railed walk above a

  two-hundred-foot drop to the roofs below. It was known as a place Brys went to

  be private, and no one followed. Only one door let on to it, no window

  overlooked, and no sound from the palace intruded. "What will you do?" the older

  man asked simply as they walked.

  "I do not know," Lan replied. She had won only a skirmish, but he felt stunned

  at the ease of it. A formidable opponent, the woman who wore part of his soul in

  her hair.

  For the rest they spoke quietly of hunting and bandits and whether this past

  year's flare-up in the Blight might die down soon. Brys regretted withdrawing

  his army from the war against the Aiel, but there had been no alternative. They

  talked of the rumours about a man who could channel — every tale had him in a

  different place; Brys thought it another jak o'the mists and Lan agreed — and of

  the Aes Sedai who seemed to be everywhere, for what reason no one knew.

  Ethenielle had written him that two sisters had caught a woman pretending to be

  Aes Sedai in a village along her progression. The woman could channel, but that

  did her no good. The two real Aes Sedai flogged her squealing through the

  village, making her confess her crime to every last man and woman who lived

  there. Then one of the sisters carried her off to Tar Valon for her true

  punishment, whatever that might be. Lan found himself hoping that Alys had not

  lied about being Aes Sedai.

  He hoped to avoid Edeyn the rest of the day, too, but when he was guided back to

  his rooms, she was there, waiting languorously in one of the gilded chairs. The

  servants were nowhere to be seen.

  "You are no longer beautiful, I fear, sweetling," she said when he came in. "I

  think you may even be ugly when you are older. But I always enjoyed your eyes

  more than your face. And your hands."

  He stopped still gripping the doorhandle. "My Lady, not two hours gone you

  swore" She cut him off.

  "And I will obey my king. But a king is not a king, alone with his carneira. I

  brought your daori. Bring it to me."

  Unwillingly, his eyes followed her gesture to a flat lacquered box on a small

  table beside the door. Lifting the hinged lid took as much effort as lifting a

  boulder. Coiled inside lay a long cord woven of hair. He could recall every

  moment of the morning after their first night, when she took him to the women's

  quarters of the Royal Palace in Fal Moran and let ladies and servants watch as

  she cut his hair at his shoulders. She even told them what it signified. The

  women had all been amused, making jokes as he sat at Edeyn's feet to weave the

  daori for her. Edeyn kept custom, but in her own way. The hair felt soft and

  supple; she must have had it rubbed with lotions every day.

  Crossing the floor slowly, he knelt before her and held out his daori stretched

  between his hands. "In token of what I owe to you, Edeyn, always and for ever."

  If his voice did not hold the fervour of that first morning, surely she

  understood.

  She did not take the cord. Instead, she studied him. "I knew you had not been

  gone so long as to forget our ways," she said finally. "Come."

  Rising, she grasped his wrist and drew him to the windows overlooking the garden

  ten paces below. Two servants were spreading water from buckets, and a young

  woman was strolling along a slate path in a blue dress as bright as any of the

  early flowers that grew beneath the trees.

  "My daughter, Iselle." For a moment, pride and affection warmed Edeyn's voice.

  "Do you remember her? She is seventeen, now. She hasn't chosen her carneira,

  yet," young men were chosen by their carneira; young women chose theirs, "but I

  think it time she married anyway."

  He vaguely recalled a child who always had servants running, the blossom of her

  mother's heart, but his head had been full of Edeyn, then. "She is as beautiful

  as her mother, I am sure," he said politely. He twisted the daori in his hands.

  She had too much advantage as long as he held it, all advantage, but she had to

  take it from him. "Edeyn, we must talk." She ignored that.

  "Time you were married, too, sweetling. Since none of your female relatives is

  alive, it is up to me to arrange."

  He gasped at what she seemed to be suggesting. At first he could not believe.

  "Iselle?" he said hoarsely. "Your daughter?" She might keep custom in her own

  way, but this was scandalous. "I'll not be reined into something so shameful,

  Edeyn. Not by you, or by this." He shook the daori at her, but she only looked

  at it and smiled.

  "Of course you won't be reined, sweetling. You are a man, not a boy. Yet you do

  keep custom," she mused, running a finger along the cord of hair quivering

  between his hands. "Perhaps we do need to talk."

  But it was to the bed that she led him.

  Moiraine spent most of th
e day asking discreet questions at inns in the rougher

  parts of Chachin, where her silk dress and divided skirts drew stares from

  patrons and innkeepers alike. One leathery fellow wearing a permanent leer told

  her that his establishment was not for her and tried to escort her to a better,

  while a round-faced, squinting woman cackled that the evening trade would have a

  tender pretty like her for dinner if she did not scurry away quick, and a

  fatherly old man with pink cheeks and a joyous smile was all too eager for her

  to drink the spiced wine he prepared out of her sight. There was nothing for it

  but to grit her teeth and move on. That was the sort of place Siuan had liked to

  visit when they were allowed a rare trip into Tar Valon as Accepted, cheap and

  unlikely to be frequented by sisters, but none had a blue-eyed Tairen staying

  under any name. Cold daylight began to settle towards yet another icy night.

  She was walking Arrow through lengthening shadows, eyeing darknesses that moved

  suspiciously in an alley and thinking that she would have to give up for today,

  when Siuan came bustling up from behind.

  "I thought you might look down here when you came," Siuan said, taking her elbow

  to hurry her along. "Let's get inside before we freeze." She eyed those shadows

  in the alley, too, and absently fingered her beltknife as if using the Power

  could not deal with any ten of them. Well, not without revealing themselves.

  Perhaps it was best to move quickly. "Not the quarter for you, Moiraine. There

  are fellows around here would bloody well have you for dinner before you knew

  you were in the pot. Are you laughing or choking?"

  Siuan, it turned out, was at a most respectable inn called The Evening Star,

  which catered to merchants of middling rank, especially women unwilling to be

  bothered by noise or rough sorts in the common room. A pair of bull-shouldered

  fellows made sure there was none of that. Siuan's room was tidy and warm, if not

  large, and the innkeeper, a lean woman with an air of brooking little nonsense,

  made no objections to Moiraine joining Siuan. So long as the extra for two was

  paid.

  While Moiraine was hanging her cloak on a peg, Siuan settled crosslegged on the

  not-very-wide bed. She seemed invigorated since Canluum. A goal always made

  Siuan bubble with enthusiasm. "I've had a time, Moiraine, I tell you. That fool

  horse nearly beat me to death getting here. The Creator made people to walk or

  go by boat, not be bounced around. I suppose the Sahera woman wasn't the one, or

  you'd be jumping like a spawning redtail. I found Ines Demain almost right off,

  but not where I can reach her. She's a new widow, but she did have a son, for

  sure. Named him Rahien because she saw the dawn come up over Dragonmount. Talk

  of the streets. Everybody thinks it a fool reason to name a child."

  "Avene Sahera's son was born a week too early and thirty miles from

  Dragonmount," Moiraine said when Siuan paused for breath. She pushed down a

  momentary thrill. Seeing dawn over the mountain did not mean the child had been

  born on it. There was no chair or stool, nor room for one, so she sat on the end

  of the bed. "If you have found Ines and her son, Siuan, why is she out of

  reach?" The Lady Ines, it turned it out, was in the Aesdaishar Palace, where

  Siuan could have gained entry easily as Aes Sedai and otherwise only if the

  Palace was hiring servants.

  The Aesdaishar Palace. "We will take care of that in the morning," Moiraine

  sighed. It meant risk, yet the Lady Ines had to be questioned. No woman Moiraine

  had found yet had been able to see Dragonmount when her child was born. "Have

  you seen any sign of . . . of the Black Ajah?" She had to get used to saying

  that name.

  Instead of answering immediately, Siuan frowned at her lap and fingered her

  skirt. "This is a strange city, Moiraine," she said finally. "Lamps in the

  streets, and women who fight duels, even if they do deny it, and more gossip

  than ten men full of ale could spew. Some of it interesting." She leaned forward

  to put a hand on Moiraine's knee. "Everybody's talking about a young blacksmith

  who died of a broken back a couple of nights ago. Nobody expected much of him,

  but this last month or so he turned into quite a speaker. Convinced his guild to

  take up money for the poor who've come into the city, afraid of the bandits,

  folks not connected to a guild or House."

  "Siuan, what under the Light — ?"

  "Just listen, Moiraine. He collected a lot of silver himself, and it seems he

  was on his way to the guild house to turn in six or eight bags of it when he was

  killed. Fool was carrying it all by himself. The point is, there wasn't a bloody

  coin of it taken, Moiraine. And he didn't have a mark on him, aside from his

  broken back."

  They shared a long look, then Moiraine shook her head. "I cannot see how to tie

  that to Meilyn or Tamra. A blacksmith? Siuan, we can go mad thinking we see

  Black sisters everywhere."

  "We can die from thinking they aren't there," Siuan replied. "Well. Maybe we can

  be silverpike in the nets instead of grunters. Just remember silverpike go to

  the fishmarket, too. What do you have in mind about this Lady Ines?"

  Moiraine told her. Siuan did not like it, and this time it took most of the

  night to make her see sense. In truth, Moiraine almost wished Siuan would talk

  her into trying something else. But Lady Ines had seen dawn over Dragonmount. At

  least Ethenielle's Aes Sedai advisor was with her in the south.

  Morning was a whirlwind of activity, little of it satisfying. Moiraine got what

  she wanted, but not without having to bite her tongue. And Siuan started up

  again. Arguments Moiraine had dealt with the night before cropped up anew. Siuan

  did not like being argued out of what she thought was right. She did not like

  Moiraine taking all the risks. A bear with a sore tooth would have been better

  company. Even that fellow Lan!

  A near-dawn visit to a banker's counting house produced gold. After the

  stern-eyed woman used an enlarging glass to study the Cairhienin banker's seal

  at the bottom of the letter-of-rights Moiraine presented. An enlarging glass! At

  least the letter itself was only a little blurred from its immersion in that

  pond. Mistress Noallin did not bother to hide her surprise when the pair of them

  began distributing purses of gold beneath their cloaks.

  "Is Chachin so lawless two women are not safe by daylight?" Moiraine asked her

  civilly. "I think our business is done. You may have your man show us out." She

  and Siuan clinked when they moved.

  Outside, Siuan muttered that even that blacksmith must have staggered, loaded

  down like a mule. And who could have broken his back that way? Whatever the

  reason, it must be the Black Ajah. An imposing woman with ivory combs in her

  hair heard enough of that to give a start, then hike her skirts to her knees and

  run, leaving her two gaping servants to scramble after her through the crowd.

  Siuan flushed but remained defiantly unrepentant.

  A slim seamstress with a haughty air informed Moiraine that what she wanted was

  easily done. At end of the month, perhaps. A great many ladies had ordered new

  go
wns. A king was visiting in the Aesdaishar Palace. The King of Malkier!

  "The last King of Malkier died twenty-five years ago, Mistress Dorelmin,"

  Moiraine said, spilling thirty gold crowns on the receiving table. Silene

  Dorelmin eyed the fat coins greedily, and her eyes positively shone when she was

  told there would be as much again when the dresses were done. "But I will keep

  six coins from the second thirty for each day it takes." Suddenly it seemed that

  the dresses could be finished sooner than a month after all. Much sooner.

  "Did you see what that skinny trull was wearing?" Siuan said as they left. "You

  should have your dresses made like that, ready to fall off. You might as well

  enjoy men looking at you if you're going to lay your fool head on the chopping

  block."

  Moiraine performed a novice exercise, imaging herself a rosebud in stillness,

  opening to the sun. As always, it brought calm. She would crack a tooth if she

  kept grinding them. "There is no other way, Siuan. Do you think the innkeeper

  will hire out one of her strongarms?" The King of Malkier? Light! The woman must

  have thought her a complete fool!

  At mid-morning two days after Moiraine arrived in Chachin, a yellowlacquered

  carriage driven by a fellow with shoulders like a bull arrived at the Aesdaishar

  Palace, with two mares tied behind, a fine-necked bay and a lanky grey. The Lady

  Moiraine Damodred, coloured slashes marching from the high neck of her dark blue

  gown to below her knees, was received with all due honour. The name of House

  Damodred was known, if not hers, and with King Laman dead, any Damodred might

  ascend to the Sun Throne. If another House did not seize it. She was given

  suitable apartments, three rooms looking north across the city towards higher,

  snow-capped peaks, and assigned servants who rushed about unpacking the lady's

  brass-bound chests and pouring hot scented water for the lady to wash. No one

  but the servants so much as glanced at Suki, the Lady Moiraine's maid.

  "All right," Siuan muttered when the servants finally left them alone in the

  sitting room, "I admit I'm invisible in this." Her dark grey dress was fine

  wool, but entirely plain except for collar and cuffs banded in Damodred colours.

  "You, though, stand out like a High Lord pulling oar. Light, I nearly swallowed