WOT Prequel 02 - New Spring

by New Spring [lit]

  my tongue when you asked if there were any sisters in the palace. I'm so nervous

  I'm starting to get light-headed. It feels hard to breathe."

  "It is the altitude," Moiraine told her. "You will get used to it. Any visitor

  would ask about Aes Sedai; you could see, the servants never blinked." She had

  held her breath, however, until she heard the answer. One sister would have

  changed everything. "I do not know why I must keep telling you. A royal palace

  is not an inn; 'You may call me Lady Alys' would satisfy no one, here. That is

  fact, not opinion. I must be myself." The Three Oaths allowed you to say

  whatever you believed was true even if you could not prove it, as well as to

  dodge around truth; only words you knew to be a lie would not come off your

  tongue. "Suppose you make use of that invisibility and see what you can learn

  about the Lady Ines. I would be pleased if we leave as soon as possible."

  Tomorrow, that would be, without causing insult and talk. Siuan was right. Every

  eye in the palace would be on the outland noblewoman from the House that had

  started the Aiel War. Any Aes Sedai who came to the Aesdaishar would hear of her

  immediately, and any Aes Sedai who passed through Chachin might well come. Siuan

  was right; she was standing on a pedestal like a target, and without a clue as

  to who might be an archer. Tomorrow, early.

  Siuan slipped out, but returned quickly with bad news. The Lady Ines was in

  seclusion, mourning her husband. "He fell over dead in his breakfast porridge

  ten days ago," Siuan reported, dropping on to a sitting room chair and hanging

  an arm over the back. Lessons in deportment were something else forgotten once

  the shawl was hers. "A much older man, but it seems she loved him. She's been

  given ten rooms and a garden on the south side of the palace; her husband was a

  close friend to Prince Brys." Ines would remain to herself a full month, seeing

  no one but close family. Her servants only came out when absolutely necessary.

  "She will see an Aes Sedai," Moiraine sighed. Not even a woman in mourning would

  refuse to see a sister.

  Siuan bolted to her feet. "Are you mad? The Lady Moiraine Damodred attracts

  enough attention. Moiraine Damodred Aes Sedai might as well send out riders! I

  thought the idea was to be gone before anyone outside the palace knows we were

  here!"

  One of the serving women came in just then, to announce that the shatayan had

  arrived to escort Moiraine to Prince Brys, and was startled to find Suki

  standing over her mistress and stabbing a finger at her.

  "Tell the shatayan I will come to her," Moiraine said calmly, and as soon as the

  wide-eyed woman curtsied and backed out, she rose to put herself on a more equal

  footing, hard enough with Siuan even when one had all the advantage. "What else

  do you suggest? Remaining almost two weeks till she comes out will be as bad,

  and you cannot befriend her servants if they are secluded with her."

  "They may only come out for errands, Moiraine, but I think I can get myself

  invited inside."

  Moiraine started to say that might take as long as the other, but Siuan took her

  firmly by the shoulders and turned her around, eyeing her up and down

  critically. "A lady's maid is supposed to make sure her mistress is properly

  dressed," she said, and gave Moiraine a push towards the door. "Go. The shatayan

  is waiting for you. And with any luck, a young footman named Cal is waiting for

  Suki."

  The shatayan indeed was waiting, a tall handsome woman, wrapped in dignity and

  frosty at being made to wait. Her hazel eyes could have chilled wine. Any queen

  who got on the wrong side of a shatayan was a fool, so Moiraine made herself

  pleasant as the woman escorted her through the halls. She thought she made some

  progress in melting that frost, but it was difficult to concentrate. A young

  footman? She did not know whether Siuan had ever been with a man, but surely she

  would not just to reach Ines' servants! Not a footman!

  Statues and tapestries lined the hallways, most surprising for what she knew of

  the Borderlands. Marble carvings of women with flowers or children playing, silk

  weavings of fields of flowers and nobles in gardens and only a few hunting

  scenes, without a single battle shown anywhere. At intervals along the halls

  arched windows looked down into many more gardens than she expected, too, and

  flagged courtyards, sometimes with a splashing marble fountain. In one of those,

  she saw something that pushed questions about Siuan and a footman to the back of

  her mind.

  It was a simple courtyard, without fountain or columned walk, and men stood in

  rows along the walls watching two others, stripped to the waist and fighting

  with wooden practice swords. Ryne and Bukama. It was fighting, if in practice;

  blows landed on flesh hard enough for her to hear the thuds. All landed by Ryne.

  She would have to avoid them, and Lan, if he was there too. He had not bothered

  to hide his doubts, and he might raise questions she did not dare have asked.

  Was she Moiraine or Alys? Worse, was she Aes Sedai or a wilder pretending?

  Questions that would be discussed in the streets by the next night, for any

  sister to hear, and that last was one any sister would investigate. Fortunately,

  three wandering soldiers would hardly be present anywhere she was.

  Prince Brys, a solid, green-eyed man, greeted her intimately in a large room

  panelled red and gold. Two of the Prince's married sisters were present with

  their husbands, and one of Ethenielle's with hers, the men in muted silks, the

  women in bright colours belted high beneath their breasts. Liveried servants

  offered sweetmeats and nuts. Moiraine thought she might get a sore neck from

  looking up; the shortest of the women was taller than Siuan, and they all stood

  very straight. Their necks would have bent a little for a sister, men's and

  women's alike, but they knew themselves the equals of the Lady Moiraine.

  The talk ranged from music and the best musicians among the nobles at court to

  the rigours of travel, from whether rumours of a man who could channel might be

  true to why so many Aes Sedai seemed to be about, and Moiraine found it

  difficult to maintain the expected light wittiness. She cared little for music

  and less for whoever played the instruments; in Cairhien, musicians were hired

  and forgotten. Everyone knew that travel was arduous, with no assurance of beds

  or decent food at the end of the day's twenty or thirty miles, and that was when

  the weather was good. Obviously some of the sisters were about because of

  rumours about the man, and others to tighten ties that might have loosened

  during the Aiel War, to make sure thrones and Houses understood they were still

  expected to meet their obligations to the Tower, both public and private. If an

  Aes Sedai had not come to the Aesdaishar yet, one soon would, reason enough for

  her to make heavy going of idle chat. That and thinking about other reasons for

  sisters to be wandering. The men put a good face on it, but she thought the

  women found her particularly dull.

  When Brys's children were brought in, Moiraine felt a great relief. Having his

  children introduced to her was
a sign of acceptance to his household, but more,

  it signalled the end of the audience. The eldest son, Antol, was in the south

  with Ethenielle as heir, leaving a lovely green-eyed girl of twelve named jarene

  to lead in her sister and four brothers, formally aligned by age, though in

  truth the two youngest boys were still in skirts and carried by nursemaids.

  Stifling her impatience to find out what Siuan had learned, Moiraine

  complimented the children on their behaviour, encouraged them at their lessons.

  They must think her as dull as their elders did. Something a little less flat.

  "And how did you earn your bruises, my Lord Diryk?" she asked, hardly listening

  to the boy's soberly delivered story of a fall. Until . . .

  "My father says it was Lan's luck I wasn't killed, my Lady," Diryk said,

  brightening out of his formality. "Lan is the King of Malkier, and the luckiest

  man in the world, and the best swordsman. Except for my father, of course."

  "The King of Malkier?" Moiraine said, blinking. Diryk nodded vigorously and

  began explaining in a rush of words about Lan's exploits in the Blight and the

  Malkieri who had come to the Aesdaishar to follow him, until his father motioned

  him to silence.

  "Lan is a king if he wishes it, my Lady," Brys said. A very odd thing to say,

  and his doubtful tone made it odder. "He keeps much to his rooms," Brys sounded

  troubled about that, too, "but you will meet him before you — my Lady, are you

  well?"

  "Not very," she told him. She had hoped for another meeting with Lan

  Mandragoran, planned for it, but not here! Her stomach was trying to twist into

  knots. "I myself may keep to my rooms for a few days, if you will forgive me."

  He would, of course, and everyone was full of regret at missing her company and

  sympathy for the strain travelling must have put on her. Though she did hear one

  of the women murmur that southlanders must be very delicate.

  A pale-haired young woman in green-and-red was waiting to show Moiraine back to

  her rooms. Elis bobbed a curtsy every time she spoke, which meant she bobbed

  quite often in the beginning. She had been told of Moiraine's "faintness", and

  she asked every twenty paces whether Moiraine wished to sit and catch her

  breath, or have cool damp cloths brought to her rooms, or hot bricks for her

  feet, or smelling salts, or a dozen more sure cures for "a light head", until

  Moiraine curtly told her to be quiet. The fool girl led on in silence, face

  blank.

  Moiraine cared not a whit whether the woman was offended. All she wanted right

  then was to find Siuan with good news. With the boy in her arms, born on

  Dragonmount, and his mother packed to travel would be best of all. Most of all,

  though, she wanted herself out of the halls before she ran into Lan Mandragoran.

  Worrying about him, she rounded a corner behind the serving girl and came face

  to face with Merean, blue-fringed shawl looped over her arms. The shatayan

  herself was guiding Merean, and behind the motherly-looking sister came a train

  of servants, one woman carrying her red riding gloves, another her fur-trimmed

  cloak, a third her dark velvet hat. Pairs of men bore wicker pack-hampers that

  could have been carried by one, and others had arms full of flowers. An Aes

  Sedai received more honour than a mere lady, however high her House.

  Merean's eyes narrowed at the sight of Moiraine. "A surprise to see you here,"

  she said slowly. "By your dress, I take it you've given over your disguise? But

  no. Still no ring, I see."

  Moiraine was so startled at the woman's sudden appearance that she hardly heard

  what Merean said. "Are you alone?" she blurted.

  For a moment Merean's eyes became slits. "Larelle decided to go her own way.

  South, I believe. More, I don't know."

  "It was Cadsuane I was thinking of," Moiraine said, blinking in surprise. The

  more she had thought about Cadsuane, the more she had become convinced the woman

  must be Black Ajah. What surprised her was Larelle. Larelle had seemed bent on

  reaching Chachin, and without delay. Of course, plans could change, but suddenly

  Moiraine realized something that should have been obvious. Black sisters could

  lie. It was impossible — the Oaths could not be broken! — yet it had to be.

  Merean moved close to Moiraine, and when Moiraine took a step back, she

  followed. Moiraine held herself erect, but she still came no higher than the

  other woman's chin. "Are you so eager to see Cadsuane?" Merean said, looking

  down at her. Her voice was pleasant, her smooth face comforting, but her eyes

  were cold iron. Abruptly glancing at the servants, she seemed to realize they

  were not alone. The iron faded, but it did not disappear. "Cadsuane was right,

  you know. A young woman who thinks she knows more than she does can land herself

  in very deep trouble. I suggest you be very still and very quiet until we can

  talk." Her gesture for the shatayan to lead on was peremptory, and the dignified

  woman leaped to obey. A king or queen might find themselves in a shatayan's bad

  graces, but never an Aes Sedai.

  Moiraine stared after Merean until she vanished around a corner far down the

  corridor. Everything Merean had just said could have come from one of Tamra's

  chosen. Black sisters could lie. Had Larelle changed her mind about Chachin? Or

  was she dead somewhere, like Tamra and the others? Suddenly Moiraine realized

  she was smoothing her skirts. Stilling her hands was easy, but she could not

  stop herself trembling faintly.

  Elis was staring at her with her mouth open. "You're Aes Sedai, too!" the woman

  squeaked, then gave a jump, taking Moiraine's wince for a grimace. "I won't say

  a word to anyone, Aes Sedai," she said breathlessly. "I swear, by the Light and

  my father's grave!" As if every person behind Merean had not heard everything

  she had. They would not hold their tongues.

  "Take me to Lan Mandragoran's apartments," Moiraine told her. What was true at

  sunrise could change by noon, and so could what was necessary. She took the

  Great Serpent ring from her pouch and put it on her right hand. Sometimes, you

  had to gamble.

  After a long walk, mercifully in silence, Elis rapped at a red door and

  announced to the grey-haired woman who opened it that the Lady Moiraine Damodred

  Aes Sedai wished to speak with King al'Lan Mandragoran. The woman had added her

  own touches to what Moiraine told her. King, indeed! Shockingly, the reply came

  back that Lord Mandragoran had no wish to speak with any Aes Sedai. The

  grey-haired woman looked scandalized, but closed the door firmly.

  Elis stared at Moiraine wide-eyed. "I can show my Lady Aes Sedai to her own

  rooms now," she said uncertainly, "if " She squeaked when Moiraine pushed open

  the door and went in.

  The grey-haired serving woman and another a little younger leaped up from where

  they had been sitting, apparently darning shirts. A bony young man scrambled

  awkwardly to his feet beside the fireplace, looking to the women for

  instruction. They simply stared at Moiraine until she raised a questioning

  eyebrow. Then the grey-haired woman pointed to one of the two doors leading

  deeper into the apartments.

  The door s
he pointed to led to a sitting room much like Moiraine's own, but all

  of the gilded chairs had been moved back against the walls and the flowered

  carpets rolled up. Shirtless, Lan was practising the sword in the cleared area.

  A small golden locket swung at his neck as he moved, his blade a blur. Sweat

  covered him, and more scars than she expected on a man so young. Not to mention

  a number of half-healed wounds crossed by dark stitches. He spun gracefully out

  of the forms to face her, the point of his sword grounding on the floor-tiles.

  He still did not quite meet her gaze, in that strange way he and Bukama had. His

  hair hung damply, clinging to his face despite the leather cord, but he was not

  breathing hard.

  "You," he growled. "So you are Aes Sedai and a Damodred today. I've no time for

  your games, Cairhienin. I am waiting for someone." Cold blue eyes flickered to

  the door behind her. Oddly, what appeared to be a cord woven of hair was tied

  around the inner handle in an elaborate knot. "She will not be pleased to find

  another woman here."

  "Your lady love need have no fear of me," Moiraine told him drily. "For one

  thing, you are much too tall, and for another, I prefer men with at least a

  modicum of charm. And manners. I came for your help. There was a pledge made,

  and held since the War of the Hundred Years, that Malkier would ride when the

  White Tower called. I am Aes Sedai, and I call you!"

  "You know the hills are high, but not how they lie," he muttered as if quoting

  some Malkieri saying. Stalking across the room away from her, he snatched up his

  scabbard and sheathed the sword forcefully. "I'll give you your help, if you can

  answer a question. I've asked Aes Sedai over the years, but they wriggled away

  from answering like vipers. If you are Aes Sedai, answer it."

  "If I know the answer, I will." She would not tell him again that she was what

  she was, but she embraced saidar, and moved one of the gilded chairs out into

  the middle of the floor. She could not have lifted the thing with her hands, yet

  it floated easily on flows of Air, and would have had it been twice as heavy.

  Sitting, she rested her hands on crossed knees where the golden serpent on her

  finger was plain. The taller person had an advantage when both stood, but

  someone standing must feel they were being judged by someone sitting, especially