"Have some of this excellent tea, Nynaeve," Elayne said, laying a white napkin across gleaming blue silk skirts. Like everything else in the sitting room, her wide chair had gilded balls for feet, and more standing along the tall back above her head. Aviendha sat by her side, but on the floor, legs folded beneath the skirt of a high-necked dress that almost matched the pale green tile. Her labyrinthine silver necklace went very well with the dress. Nynaeve did not think she had seen the Aiel woman sit in a chair once. People had certainly stared at her in those two inns.
"Mint and cloudberries," Birgitte added to Elayne’s offer, filling another delicate golden porcelain cup without waiting. Birgitte wore wide gray trousers and a short blue coat. She did wear dresses occasionally, but her taste made Nynaeve glad it was seldom. All three of them dressed and primped, and no one wanted them.
The silver pitcher glistened damply, and the tea was cool and refreshing. Nynaeve admired Elayne’s face, cool and dry. She herself already felt moist again despite the breeze. "I must say," she muttered, "I expected a different reception."
"Did you really?" Elayne asked. "After the way Vandene and Adeleas treated us?"
Nynaeve sighed. "Very well, then, I hoped. I am finally Aes Sedai, really Aes Sedai, and nobody seems to believe it. I truly hoped leaving Salidar would make a difference."
Their meeting with Merilille Ceandevin had not gone well. Their presentation to her, in truth. Vandene’s introduction had been almost perfunctory, and then they were dismissed, sent away so the real Aes Sedai could talk. Merilille had said she was sure they wanted to freshen up, but it was a dismissal, with a choice of going like obedient Accepted or refusing like sulky children. Just remembering ruined all Nynaeve’s attempts at calm; sweat began to run down her face.
Being sent away was not the worst of it, really. Merilille was a slender, palely elegant Cairhienin with glossy black hair and large liquid eyes, a Gray who looked as if nothing had ever surprised her and nothing ever could. Only those dark eyes had gone wide when told Nynaeve and Elayne were Aes Sedai, and wider still on learning Egwene was the Amyrlin Seat. Birgitte as a Warder clearly astounded her, though by that time she managed to hold her reaction to one stare and a brief tightening of her lips. Aviendha came out of it the easiest; Merilille gave her only a murmur about how much she would enjoy being a novice. Then came the dismissal. And a suggestion, more in the nature of a command, that they spend several days recuperating from the rigors of their journey.
Nynaeve plucked her handkerchief from her sleeve and fanned her face uselessly with the lacy square. "I still think they’re hiding something."
"Really, Nynaeve," Elayne said, shaking her head. "I do not like how we’re treated any more than you, but you are trying to make a bull out of a mouse. If Vandene and Adeleas want to look for runaways, let them. Would you rather have them trying to take over looking for the bowl?" During the whole journey they had hardly mentioned the ter’angreal they sought, for fear the pair would do just that.
Whether they would have or not, Nynaeve still thought they were hiding things. Elayne just did not want to admit it. Adeleas had not realized that Nynaeve had overheard that remark about looking for runaways once they reached Ebou Dar, and when Nynaeve asked whether they really expected to find any, Vandene replied just a bit too quickly that they always kept an eye out for young women who had run from the Tower. It did not make sense. No one had run away from Salidar, but novices did run sometimes — the life was hard, especially with years of obedience to look forward to before you could even think of thinking for yourself — and an occasional Accepted who had begun to despair of ever reaching the shawl tried to slip away, yet even Nynaeve knew that few made it off the island of Tar Valon and almost all were dragged back. You could be put out at any time, for not being strong enough to go on, for refusing or failing your test for Accepted or the test for Aes Sedai that she and Elayne had slipped by, but leaving was never your decision unless you wore the shawl.
So if successful runaways were so rare, why did Vandene and Adeleas think they might find one in Ebou Dar, and why had they shut up like mussels when she asked? She was afraid she knew the answer to the last, anyway. Not tugging her braid required considerable self-control. She thought she was becoming better at that.
"At least Mat finally knows we’re Aes Sedai," she growled. At least she could deal with him now. Let him try anything, and he would see what it was like being thumped with everything she could wrap a flow around. "He had better."
"Is that why you’ve been avoiding him like a Cheltan flinching from the tax collector?" Birgitte asked with a grin, and Nynaeve felt her face coloring. She thought she had hidden her feelings better than that.
"He is very irritating, even for a man," Aviendha murmured. "You must have traveled very far, Birgitte. You often speak of places I have never heard of. One day I would like to travel the wetlands and see all these strange places. Where is this… Cheltan? Chelta?"
That wiped Birgitte’s grin right off; wherever it was, it might be dead a thousand years, or since an earlier Age altogether. Her and her slipping ancient places and things into the conversation. Nynaeve wished she had been there to see her admit to Egwene what Egwene already knew. Egwene had grown impressively forceful in her time with the Aiel, and put up with little she considered nonsense. Birgitte had actually come back looking chastened.
Even so, Nynaeve liked Birgitte rather better than she did Aviendha, who made her very uneasy at times with her hard stares and bloodthirsty talk. And however irritating Birgitte could be, Nynaeve had promised to help her keep her secret.
"Mat… threatened me," she said hurriedly. It was the first way that came to mind to divert Aviendha and the last thing she wanted anyone else to know. Her cheeks heated all over again. Elayne actually smiled, though she had the grace to hide it in her teacup. "Not like that," Nynaeve added when Aviendha began frowning and fingering her belt knife. The Aiel woman seemed to think the proper response to everything was a violent one. "It was just…" Aviendha and Birgitte looked at her, all ears and interest. "He just said…" As she had rescued Birgitte, Elayne rescued her.
"I really think that is enough about Master Cauthon," Elayne said firmly. "He is only here to pull him out of Egwene’s hair, and I can puzzle out what to do about the ter’angreal later." Her lips compressed for a moment. She had not been happy when Vandene and Adeleas began channeling at Mat without so much as a by-your-leave, and even less when he slipped off to that inn. There had been nothing she could do, of course. She claimed that by only telling him to do what he had to do anyway in the beginning, she could bring him into the habit. Well, good luck to her. "He is the least important part of this trip," she said, even more firmly.
"Yes." Nynaeve just kept the relief out of her voice. "Yes, the bowl is what’s important."
"I suggest I scout about first," Birgitte said. "Ebou Dar seems rougher than I remember, and the district you describe could be rougher than…" She did not quite glance at Aviendha. "… Than the rest of the city," she finished with a sigh.
"If there is scouting to be done," Aviendha put in eagerly, "I wish to be part of it. I have a cadin’sor."
"A scout is supposed to blend in," Elayne said gently. "I think we should find Ebou Dari dress for all of us; then we can all search together from the start, and none of us will stand out. Though Nynaeve will have the easiest time of it," she added, smiling at Birgitte and Aviendha. The Ebou Dari they had seen so far all had dark hair, and most seemed to have nearly black eyes.
Aviendha exhaled glumly, and Nynaeve felt like echoing her, thinking of those deep necklines. Very deep, however narrow. Birgitte actually grinned; the woman had no shame at all.
Before the discussion could go any further, a woman with short black hair, in the livery of House Mitsobar, entered without knocking, which Nynaeve thought rude no matter what Elayne said was proper for servants. Her dress was white, the skirt sewn up to the knee on the left side to expose a green petticoat
, with a snug bodice embroidered on the left breast with a green Anchor and Sword. Even the livery’s narrow neckline plunged as far as Nynaeve recalled. Plump and somewhere in her middle years, the woman hesitated, then curtsied and addressed herself to everyone. "Queen Tylin wishes to see the three Aes Sedai, if it pleases them."
Nynaeve exchanged wondering looks with Elayne and the others.
"There are only two of us Aes Sedai here," Elayne said after a moment. "Perhaps you meant to go to Merilille?"
"I was directed to this apartment… Aes Sedai." The pause was barely long enough to notice, and the woman just missed turning the title into a question.
Elayne rose, smoothing her skirts; no stranger would suspect that that smooth face hid anger, but there was a hint of tightness at the corners of eyes and mouth. "Shall we go, then? Nynaeve? Aviendha? Birgitte?"
"I am not Aes Sedai, Elayne," Aviendha said, and the serving woman put in hurriedly, "I was told only the Aes Sedai."
"Aviendha and I could have a look around the city while you see the Queen," Birgitte said before Elayne could open her mouth. Aviendha’s face lit up.
Elayne gave the pair of them a sharp look, then sighed. "Well, at least be careful. Nynaeve, are you coming, or do you want to see the city too?" That last was in a dry tone, with another glance at Birgitte.
"Oh, I would not miss it," Nynaeve told her. "It will be good to finally meet someone who thinks…" She could not finish it with the maid there. "We should not keep the Queen waiting."
"Oh, no," the liveried woman said. "It’d be as much as my ears are worth."
However much her ears were worth, it took some time to walk through the palace corridors. As though to make up for all the white outside, the palace was full of color. In one corridor the ceiling was painted green and the walls blue, in another the walls were yellow and the ceiling pale rose. The floor tiles were diamonds of red and black and white, or blue and yellow, or almost any combination in any shade. There were very few tapestries, usually scenes of the sea, but a good many tall vases of golden Sea Folk porcelain stood in arched niches, and also large pieces of carved crystal, statuettes and vases and bowls, that caught Elayne’s eye as well as Nynaeve’s.
Of course servants scurried about everywhere, the men’s version of the livery entailing white breeches and a long green vest over a white shirt with wide, pleated sleeves, but before they had gone very far Nynaeve saw someone striding toward them who made her stop and catch Elayne’s arm. It was Jaichim Carridin. She did not take her eyes off the tall graying man as he strode on past them, those cruel deep-set eyes never turning in their direction, white cloak spreading behind him. Sweat covered his face, but he ignored it as he ignored them.
"What is he doing here?" Nynaeve demanded. That man had unleashed slaughter in Tanchico, and the Light only knew where else.
The serving woman looked at her quizzically. "Why, the Children of the Light sent an embassy too, months gone. The Queen… Aes Sedai?" Again, that hesitation.
Elayne managed to nod graciously, but Nynaeve could not blank the asperity from her own voice. "Then we should not keep her waiting." One thing Merilille had let slip about this Tylin was that she was a punctilious woman, stiffly formal. But if she too started doubting they were Aes Sedai, Nynaeve was in just the mood to prove it.
The serving woman left them in a large room with a pale blue ceiling and yellow walls, where a row of tall triple-arched windows gave onto a long wrought-iron balcony and let in a quite comfortable salty breeze, and before the Queen Nynaeve and Elayne made their curtsies, proper for Aes Sedai to ruler, a slight dip, a tiny bow of the head.
Tylin was a most impressive woman. No taller than Nynaeve, she stood with a regal bearing that Elayne would have had to strain to match on her best day. She should have replied to their courtesies with the same, but she did not. Instead her large black eyes examined them with imperious intensity.
Nynaeve returned the favor as well as she could. Waves of glossy black hair, gray at the temples, hung well below Tylin’s shoulders, framing a face that was handsome if not unlined. Shockingly, there were two scars on the woman’s cheeks, fine and so old they had all but vanished. Of course, she did have one of those curved knives stuck through a belt of woven gold, with hilt and scabbard encrusted in gems, Nynaeve was sure it must be for show. Tylin’s blue silk dress was certainly nothing anyone could wear fighting a duel, with falls of snowy lace that would nearly hide her fingers if she lowered her hands, and skirts drawn up above her knees in front to expose layers of green and white silk petticoats and trailing behind her a pace or more. The bodice, trimmed in the same lace, was snug enough that Nynaeve was not sure whether sitting in it or standing would be more uncomfortable. A collar of woven gold fastened around the gown’s high neck, which put more lace under her chin, supported a white-sheathed marriage knife hanging hilt-down into an oval cut-out that easily equalled any of those deep necklines.
"You two must be Elayne and Nynaeve." Tylin took a chair carved to resemble bamboo, though covered in gilt, and arranged her skirts carefully without taking her eyes from them. Her voice was deep, melodious and commanding. "I understood there was a third. Aviendha?"
Nynaeve exchanged glances with Elayne. There had been no invitation for them to sit, not so much as a flicker of eyes toward a chair. "She is not Aes Sedai," Elayne began calmly.
Tylin spoke before she could say more. "And you are? You’ve seen eighteen winters at most, Elayne. And you, Nynaeve, staring at me like a cat with its tail caught, how many have you seen? Twenty-two? Twenty-three perhaps? Stab my liver! I visited Tar Valon once, and the White Tower. I doubt any woman your age has ever worn that ring on her right hand."
"Twenty-six!" Nynaeve snapped. With a good part of the Women’s Circle back in Emond’s Field thinking she was too young to be Wisdom, it had become habit with her to flourish every naming day she could claim. "I am twenty-six and an Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah." She still felt a thrill of pride saying that. "Elayne may be eighteen, but she is Aes Sedai as well, and Green Ajah. Do you think Merilille or Vandene would let us wear these rings as a joke? A good many things have changed, Tylin. The Amyrlin Seat, Egwene al’Vere, is no older than Elayne."
"Is she?" Tylin said in a flat voice. "I was not told that. When the Aes Sedai who counseled me from the day I took the throne, and my father before me, abruptly leaves for the Tower without explanation, and I then learn that rumors of a Tower divided are true; when Dragonsworn seem to spring out of the ground; when an Amyrlin is chosen to oppose Elaida and an army gathered under one of the great captains, inside Altara, before I hear of it — when all of that has happened, you cannot expect me to be enamored of surprises."
Nynaeve hoped her face did not look as sickly as she felt. Why could she not learn to hold her tongue occasionally? Abruptly she realized she could no longer sense the True Source; anger and embarrassment did not go together very well. It was probably to the good. If she could channel, she might make an even bigger fool of herself.
Elayne moved to smooth things over without a pause. "I know you have heard this before," she told Tylin, "but let me add my apologies to those of Merilille and the others. Gathering an army inside your borders without your permission was unconscionable. All I can say in mitigation is that events moved quickly and we in Salidar were caught up, but that is no excuse. I swear to you, no harm is intended to Altara, and no insult was meant to the Throne of the Winds. Even as we speak, Gareth Bryne leads that army north, out of Altara."
Tylin stared at her, unblinking. "I have heard no word of apology or excuse until yours. But any ruler of Altara must learn to swallow insult from greater powers without salt." Taking a deep breath, she gestured, lace waving. "Sit, sit. Both of you sit. Lean back on your knife and let your tongue go free." Her sudden smile was very close to a grin. "I don’t know how you say it in Andor. Be at ease, and speak your mind as you wish."
Nynaeve was glad that Elayne’s blue eyes widened in surprise, because
she herself gasped aloud. This was the woman who Merilille had claimed required ceremony carved in polished marble? Nynaeve was more than glad to take a chair. Thinking of all the hidden currents in Salidar, she wondered whether Tylin was trying to… to what? She had come to expect everyone who was not a close friend to try manipulating her. Elayne sat on the very front of her chair, and stiffly.
"I mean what I say," Tylin insisted. "Whatever you say, I will hear no insult." From the way her fingers tapped the jeweled hilt at her waist, though, silence might be heard as one.
"I am not certain where to begin," Nynaeve said carefully. She did wish Elayne had not actually nodded at that; Elayne was supposed to know how to handle kings and queens. Why did she not say something?
"With why," the Queen said impatiently. "Why do four more Aes Sedai come to Ebou Dar from Salidar? It cannot be to outshine Elaida’s embassy — Teslyn does not even call it that, and there are only her and Joline… You did not know?" Falling back in her chair laughing, she pressed the fingers of one hand to her lips. "Do you know about the Whitecloaks? Yes?" Her free hand made a slashing gesture, and her mirth began to subside in small ripples. "That for Whitecloaks! But I must listen to all who court me, Lord Inquisitor Carridin as well as the others."
"But why?" Nynaeve demanded. "I am glad you don’t like Whitecloaks, but in that case, why must you listen to a word Carridin says? The man’s a butcher." She knew she had made another mistake. The way Elayne suddenly seemed to be studying the broad white fireplace, where the deep lintel was carved into towering waves, told her that even before the last vestige of Tylin’s laughter snuffed out like a candle.
"You take me at my word," the Queen said quietly. "I said let your tongue go free, and…" Those dark eyes went to the floor tiles, and she seemed to be gathering herself.
Nynaeve looked to Elayne, hoping for some hint of what she had done wrong, or better, how to make it right, but Elayne only gave her one sideways glance and the smallest shake of her head before returning to her study of the marble waves. Maybe she should avoid looking at Tylin, too? Yet the woman staring at the floor drew her eyes. With one hand Tylin stroked the hilt of her curved dagger, with the other fingered the smaller hilt nestled between her breasts.
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