Knife of Dreams

by Robert Jordan

  "A remarkable weapon, those bows of yours," she drawled, eyeing the Two Rivers men. "I wish we had the like. Kirklin told me where to find you, my Lord. They've begun surrendering. Masema's men held to the point of suicide—most of them are dead or dying, I think—and the damane turned that ridge into a deathtrap only a madman would walk into. Best of all, the sul'dam have already fitted a’dam to over two hundred women. That cold ‘tea' of yours was enough that most of them could not stand without help. I'll have to send for to'raken to fly them all out."

  Seonid made a sound in her throat. Her face was smooth, but her scent was dagger-sharp fury. She stared at Tylee as though trying to stare a hole through her. Tylee paid her no mind at all except to shake her head slightly.

  "After my people and I are gone," Perrin said. His agreement was with her. He did not want to risk testing it with anyone else. "What are our losses aside from Masema's men?"

  "Light," Tylee replied. "Between your archers and the damane, they never really managed to close with us. I've never seen a battle plan come off so smoothly. If we have a hundred dead between us, I'll be surprised."

  Perrin winced. He supposed those were light casualties under the circumstances, but some would be Two Rivers men. Whether or not he knew them, they were his responsibility. "Do you know where Masema is?"

  "With what's left of his army. He's no coward, I'll say that for him. He and his two hundred—well, about one hundred, now—cut a path all the way through the Shaido to the ridge."

  Perrin ground his teeth. The man was back surrounded by his rabble. It would be his word against Masema's about why Aram had tried to kill him, and in any event, it was unlikely the man's followers would surrender him for trial. "We need to start moving before the others get here. If the Shaido think rescue is at hand, they might decide to forget they surrendered. Who's your prisoner?"

  "Sevanna," Faile said in a cold voice. The smell of her hatred was nearly as strong as it had been while speaking of Galina.

  The golden-haired woman twisted herself upward, shaking hair out of her face and losing several more necklaces in the process. Her eyes, glaring at Faile, were green fire above a strip of cloth that had been tied for a gag. She stank of rage.

  "Sevanna of the Jumai Shaido," Satisfaction was strong in Tylee's voice. "She told me so proudly. She's no coward, either. Met us wearing nothing but a silk robe and her jewels, but she managed to spear two of my Altarans before I took it away from her." Sevanna snarled through her gag and struggled as if to throw herself from the horse. Until Tylee smacked her bottom, anyway. After that, she contented herself with glaring at everyone in sight. She was nicely rounded, though he should not be noticing something like that with his wife there. Except that Elyas said she would expect him to notice, so he made himself study her openly.

  "I claim the contents of her tent," Faile announced, shooting him a sharp look. Maybe he was not supposed to be that open. "She has a huge chest of jewels in there, and I want them. Don't look at me like a looby, Perrin. We have a hundred thousand people to feed, clothe and help get back to their homes. A hundred thousand at least."

  "I want to come with you, my Lady, if you'll have me," the young fellow who had been holding Maighdin piped up. "I won't be the only one, if you'll have us."

  "Your lady wife, I presume, my Lord," Tylee said, eyeing Faile.

  "She is. Faile, allow me to present Banner-General Tylee Khirgan, in service to the Empress of Seanchan." Perhaps he was acquiring some of that polish himself. "Banner-General, my wife, Lady Faile ni Bashere t'Aybara." Tylee bowed in her saddle. Faile made a small curtsy, inclined her head slightly. Dirty face or no dirty face, she was regal.

  Which made him think of the Broken Crown. Discussion of that little matter would have to come later. No doubt it would be a prolonged discussion. He thought he might not find it so hard to raise his voice, the way she apparently wanted, this time.

  "And this is Alliandre Maritha Kigarin, Queen of Ghealdan, Blessed of the Light, Defender of Garen's Wall. And my liege woman. Ghealdan is under my protection." Fool thing to say, but it had to be said.

  "Our agreement doesn't speak to that, my Lord," Tylee said carefully. "I don't decide where the Ever Victorious Army goes."

  "Just so you know, Banner-General. And tell those above you they can't have Ghealdan." Alliandre smiled at him so widely, so gratefully, he almost wanted to laugh. Light, Faile was smiling, too. A proud smile.

  He rubbed the side of his nose. "We really do need to begin moving before those other Shaido arrive. I don't want to find myself with them in front of me and all those prisoners behind me thinking about picking up a spear again."

  Tylee chuckled. "I have a little more experience with these people than you, my Lord. Once they surrender, they won't fight again or try to escape for three days. Besides, I have some of my Altarans making bonfires out of their spears and bows just to make sure. We have time to make our deployments. My Lord, I hope I never have to face you in the field," she said, pulling the steel-backed gauntlet from her right hand. "I would be honored if you'd call me Tylee." She bent over Sevanna to offer her hand.

  For a moment, Perrin could only stare. It was a strange world. He had gone to her thinking he was making a deal with the Dark One, and the Light knew, some of what the Seanchan did was beyond repugnant, but the woman was stalwart and true to her word.

  "I'm Perrin, Tylee." he said, clasping her hand. A very strange world.

  Stripping off her shift, Galina tossed it down atop the silk robe and bent to pick up the riding dress she had pulled from Swift's saddlebags. The thing had been sewn for a slightly larger woman, but it would suffice until she could sell one of those firedrops.

  "Stand as you are, Lina," came Therava's voice, and suddenly Galina could not have straightened if the forest around her had been on fire. She could scream, though. "Be silent." She choked as her throat swallowed the scream convulsively. She could still weep, silently, and tears began to fall on the mulch of the forest floor. A hand slapped her rudely. "Somehow, you have the rod,” Therava said. "You would not be out here, else. Give it to me, Lina."

  There was no question even of resisting. Straightening, Galina dug the rod out of her saddlebags and handed it to the hawk-eyed woman, tears sliding down her cheeks.

  "Stop sniveling, Lina. And put on your necklace and collar. I will have to punish you for taking them off.''

  Galina flinched. Even Therava's command could not shut off her tears, and she knew she would be punished for that, too. Golden necklace and collar came out of the saddlebags and went onto her. She stood there wearing only her pale woolen stockings and soft laced white boots, and the weight of the firedrop-studded collar and belt seemed enough to bear her to the ground. Her eyes fastened themselves to the white rod in Therava's hands.

  "Your horse will do for a pack animal, Lina. As for you, you are forbidden to ride ever again."

  There had to be some way to get that rod again. There had to be! Therava turned the thing over and over in her hands, taunting her.

  "Stop playing with your pet, Therava. What are we going to do?" Belinde, a slender Wise One with hair bleached almost white by the sun, strode up to glare at Therava with pale blue eyes. She was bony, with a face well suited to glaring.

  That was the first Galina realized that Therava was not alone. Several hundred men, women and children stood among the trees behind them, some of the men carrying women slung over their shoulders, of all things. She covered herself with her hands, her face heating. Those long days of enforced nakedness had not inured her to being unclothed in front of men. Then she noticed another oddity. Only a handful were algai'd'siswai, with bow cases on their backs and quivers at their hips, but every man and every woman except the Wise Ones among them was carrying at least one spear. They had their faces veiled, too, with a scarf or just a scrap of cloth. What could it mean?

  "We are returning to the Three-fold Land," Therava said. "We will send runners to find every sept that can be
found and tell them to abandon their wetlander gai'shain, abandon everything they must, and make their way by stealth back to the Three-fold Land. We will rebuild our clan. The Shaido will rise from the disaster Sevanna led us to."

  "That will take generations!" Modarra protested. Slim and quite pretty, but even taller than Therava, as tall as most Aielmen, she stood up to Therava unflinchingly. Galina could not understand how she did that. The woman made her flinch with a glance.

  "Then we will take generations," Therava said firmly. "We will take whatever time is necessary. And we will never leave the Three-fold Land again." Her gaze shifted to Galina. Who flinched. "You will never touch this again," she said, raising the rod briefly. "And you will never try to escape me again. She has a strong back. Load her, and let us be on our way. They may try to pursue us."

  Burdened with waterskins and pots and kettles till she almost felt decently covered, Galina staggered through the forest at Therava's heels. She did not think of the rod, or escape. Something had broken in her. She was Galina Casban, Highest of the Red Ajah, who sat on the Supreme Council of the Black Ajah, and she was going to be Therava's plaything for the rest of her life. She was Therava's little Lina. For the rest of her life. She knew that to her bones. Tears rolled silently down her face.

  CHAPTER 31 The House on Full Moon Street

  They must stay together," Elayne said firmly. "The two of you shouldn't be out by yourselves, for that matter. Always three or four together anywhere in Caemlyn. That's the only way to be safe." Just two of the mirrored stand-lamps were lit, six flames filling the sitting room with a dim light and the scent of lilies—so much of the lamp oil had gone bad that it was always perfumed, now—but a crackling fire on the hearth was beginning to take away some of the early hour's coolness.

  "There are times a woman wants a little privacy," Sumeko replied calmly, as if yet another Kinswoman had not just died from wanting privacy. Her voice was calm, at least, but plump hands smoothed her dark blue skirts.

  "If you won't put the fear of the Light into them, Sumeko, I will," Alise said, her usually mild face stern. She looked the elder of the two, with touches of gray in her hair compared to the glossy black hair that fell below Sumeko's stout shoulders, yet she was the younger by better than two hundred years. Alise had been intrepid when Ebou Dar fell and they were forced to flee the Seanchan, but her hands moved on her brown skirts, too.

  It was long past the bedtime that Essande's niece Melfane had decreed, but tired as she was all the time, once Elayne woke, she could never get back to sleep, and warm goat's milk did not help. Warm goat's milk tasted worse than cool. She was going to make Rand bloody al'Thor drink warm bloody goat's milk till it came out of his ears! Right after she found out what had hurt him badly enough that she sensed a small jolt of pain while everything else in that small knot in the back of her head that was him remained as vague as a stone. It had been all a stone again ever since, so he was all right, yet something had hurt him deeply for her to sense anything at all. And why was he Traveling so often? One day, he was far to the southeast, the next to the northwest and even more distant, the day after that somewhere else. Was he running from whoever had hurt him? But she had her own worries at the moment.

  Unable to sleep and restless, she had dressed herself in the first thing that came to hand, a dark gray riding dress, and gone for a walk to enjoy the stillness of the palace in the small hours of the morning, when even the servants were abed and flickering stand-lamps were the only things that moved in the hallways aside from her. Her and her bodyguards, but she was learning to ignore their presence. She did enjoy the solitude, until the two women encountered her and delivered the sad news that would have awaited sunrise otherwise. She had brought them back to her smaller sitting room to discuss the matter behind a ward against listeners.

  Sumeko shifted her bulk in her armchair to glare at Alise. "Reanne let you press boundaries, but as Eldest, I expect—"

  "You're not Eldest, Sumeko,'' the smaller woman said coolly. "You have the authority here, but by the Rule, the Knitting Circle consists of the thirteen eldest of us in Ebou Dar. We aren't in Ebou Dar any longer, so there is no Knitting Circle."

  Sumeko's round face grew hard as granite. "At least you admit I have the authority."

  "And I expect you to use it to prevent any more of us being murdered. Suggesting isn't enough, Sumeko, no matter how strongly you say you suggest. It isn't enough."

  "Arguing will get us nowhere," Elayne said. "I know you’re on edge. I am, too." Light, three women murdered with the One Power in the last ten days, and very likely seven more before that, were enough to put an anvil on edge. "But snapping at each other is the worst thing we can do. Sumeko, you need to put your foot down. I don't care how much anyone wants privacy, no one can be by herself for a minute. Alise, use your persuasion." Persuasion was not exactly the word. Alise did not persuade. She simply expected people to do as she said, and they nearly always did. "Convince the others that Sumeko is right. Between the two of you, you have to—"

  The door opened to admit Deni, who closed it again behind her and bowed, one hand on her sword hilt, the other on her long cudgel. The red-lacquered breastplates and helmets, trimmed in white, had been delivered only yesterday, and the stocky woman had been smiling ever since she donned hers, but she looked solemn behind the face-bars now. "Pardon for interrupting, my Lady, but there's an Aes Sedai here demanding to see you. A Red, by her shawl. I told her you were likely sleeping, but she was ready to come in and wake you herself."

  A Red. There were reports of Reds in the city from time to time, though not so often as once—most Aes Sedai in the city went without their shawls, concealing their Ajahs—yet what would a Red want with her? Surely they all knew by now that she stood with Egwene and against Elaida. Unless someone was finally trying to bring her to book for the bargain with the Sea Folk. "Tell her that I'm—"

  The door opened again, bumping Deni's back, pushing her out of the way. The woman who entered, vine-woven shawl draped along her arms so the long red fringe displayed itself to advantage, was tall and slim and copper-skinned. She would have been pretty, except that her mouth was compressed until her full lips seemed thin. Her riding dress was so dark it might have been black, but the pale light of the stand-mirrors picked up hints of red, and the divided skirts were slashed with brighter red. Duhara Basaheen never made any secret of her Ajah.

  Once, Sumeko and Alise would have been on their feet and curtsying for an Aes Sedai in a flash, but now they remained seated, studying her. Deni, normally placid, in appearance at least, scowled and fingered her cudgel.

  "I see the tales of you gathering wilders are true," Duhara said. "A great pity, that. The two of you get out. I wish to speak with Elayne privately. If you're wise, you will leave tonight, heading in different directions, and tell any others like you to do the same. The White Tower looks amiss on wilders gathering together. When the Tower looks on something amiss, thrones have been known to tremble."

  Neither Sumeko nor Alise moved. Alise actually arched an eyebrow. "They can stay," Elayne said coldly. With the Power in her, her emotions were not bouncing. They were steady in an icy anger. "They are welcome here. You, on the other hand. . . . Elaida tried to have me kidnapped, Duhara. Kidnapped! You can leave."

  "A poor welcome, Elayne, when I came to the palace as soon as I arrived. And after a journey that would be as torturous to describe as it was to endure. Andor has always had good relations with the Tower. The Tower intends to see they remain good. Are you sure you want these wilders to hear everything I have to say to you? Very well. If you insist." Gliding to one of the carved sideboards, she wrinkled her nose at the silver pitcher holding goat's milk and poured herself a cup of dark wine before taking a chair across from Elayne. Deni made a move as if to try dragging her out, but Elayne shook her head. The Domani sister ignored the Kinswomen as if they had ceased to exist. "The woman who drugged you has been punished, Elayne. She was flogged in front of her own
shop with everyone in her village watching." Duhara sipped her wine, waiting for Elayne to respond.

  She said nothing. She knew very well that Ronde Macura had been flogged for failure rather than for feeding her that vile tea, but saying so would make Duhara wonder how she knew, and that might lead to things that needed to remain hidden.

  The silence stretched, and finally the other woman went on. "You must know that the White Tower wants very much for you to mount the Lion Throne. To achieve that end, Elaida has sent me to be your advisor."

  In spite of herself, Elayne laughed. Elaida had sent her an advisor? It was ludicrous! "I have Aes Sedai to advise me when I need advice, Duhara. You must know I oppose Elaida. I wouldn't accept a pair of stockings from that woman."

  "Your so-called advisors are rebels, child." Duhara said chidingly, with a heavy dose of distaste on the word "rebels." She gestured with the silver winecup. "Why do you think you have so many Houses opposing you, so many standing aside? They surely know you don't really have the backing of the Tower. With me as your advisor, that changes. I might be able to put the crown on your head inside a week. At most, it should take no more than a month or two."

  Elayne met the other woman's gaze with a level gaze of her own. Her hands wanted to make fists, but she kept them still in her lap. "Even were that so, I'd refuse you. I expect to hear any day that Elaida has been deposed. The White Tower will be whole again, and no one will be able to claim I lack its backing then."