“The rooms are fit for a king, Master . . . Mat. Tylin herself chose them, just down from her own. She has taken a very personal interest. Mat, you wouldn’t have us offend the Queen, would you?”
One look at his face, and Elayne hurriedly channeled to push open the window and empty the washbasin through it. If she had ever seen a man about to lose the contents of his stomach, he was staring red-eyed at her right that minute.
“I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss,” she said. Actually, she supposed she did. Some of the serving women here probably let him paw them, but she doubted many in the palace would, if any. He would not be able to drink and gamble his nights away, either. Tylin surely would not allow a bad example for Beslan. “We all must make sacrifices.” With an effort she stopped there, not telling him that his was small and only right, theirs monstrous and unjust, no matter what Aviendha said. Nynaeve had certainly railed against any sacrifice.
He put his head in his hands again, making strangled noises while his shoulders shook. He was laughing! She hefted the basin on a flow of Air, considering hitting him with it. When he raised his eyes again, though, he looked outraged for some reason. “Sacrifices?” he snarled. “If I asked you to make the same, you’d box every ear in sight and pull the roof down on my head!” Could he still be drunk?
She decided to ignore his frightful glare. “Speaking of your head, if you would like Healing, I’m sure Nynaeve would oblige.” If she had ever been angry enough to channel, she was now.
Nynaeve gave a small jerk and glanced at her from the corner of one eye. “Of course,” she said hurriedly. “If you want.” The color in her cheeks confirmed all of Elayne’s suspicions about that morning.
Gracious as ever, he sneered. “You just forget my head. I do very well without Aes Sedai.” And then, just to confuse matters she was sure, he added in a hesitant voice, “I thank you for asking, though.” Almost as if he meant it!
Elayne managed not to gape. Her knowledge of men was limited to Rand and what Lini and her mother had told her. Was Rand going to be as confusing as Mat Cauthon?
Last thing before going, she remembered to secure a promise that he would start moving to the palace immediately. He kept his word once given, so Nynaeve had made clear, however reluctantly, but leave one crack, and he could find a hundred ways to slip through. That she had been all too eager to emphasize. He gave his promise with a bleak, resentful grimace; or maybe that was just his eyes again. When she set the basin down at his feet, he actually looked grateful. She would not feel sympathy. She would not.
Once back in the corridor, with the door to Mat’s room closed, Nynaeve shook her fist at the ceiling. “That man could try the patience of a stone! I’m glad he wants to cuddle with his head! Do you hear me? Glad! He will make trouble. He will.”
“You two will make more trouble for him than he ever could.” The speaker stalked down the hall toward them, a woman with a touch of gray in her hair, a strong face and a commanding voice. She also wore a frown little short of a scowl. Despite the marriage knife hanging into her cleavage, she was too fair for an Ebou Dari. “I couldn’t believe it when Caira told me. I doubt I’ve ever seen so much foolishness poured into just two dresses.”
Elayne eyed the woman up and down. Not even as a novice had she gotten used to being addressed in that tone. “And who might you be, my good woman?”
“I might be and am Setalle Anan, the owner of this inn, child” was the dry reply, and with that, the woman flung open a door across the hallway, seized them each by an arm, and hustled them through so fast Elayne thought her slippers had left the floor.
“You seem under some misapprehension, Mistress Anan,” she said coolly as the woman released them to shut the door.
Nynaeve was in no mood for niceties. Holding her hand so her Great Serpent ring was plain, she said heatedly, “Now, you look here—”
“Very pretty,” the woman said, and pushed each of them so hard they found themselves sitting side-by-side on the bed. Elayne’s eyes popped in disbelief. This Anan woman confronted them, grim-faced, fists on her hips, for all the world like a mother about to castigate her daughters. “Flaunting that just shows how silly you are. That young man will dandle you on his knee—one on each, I shouldn’t wonder, if you allow—he’ll take a few kisses and as much else as you’re willing to give, but he won’t harm you. You can harm him, though, if you keep on with this.”
Harm him? The woman thought they—she thought he had dandled—she thought—Elayne did not know whether to laugh or cry, but she stood up, straightening her skirts. “As I said, Mistress Anan, you are under a misapprehension.” Her voice became smoother as she went on, confusion giving way to calm. “I am Elayne Trakand, Daughter-Heir of Andor and Aes Sedai of the Green Ajah. I don’t know what you think—” Her eyes nearly crossed as Mistress Anan pushed a finger to the tip of her nose.
“Elayne, if that is your name, all that keeps me from dragging you down to the kitchen and washing your mouth out, yours and that other foolish girl’s there, is the possibility that you actually can channel somewhat. Or are you silly enough to wear that ring when you can’t even do that? I warn you, it will make no difference to the sisters over in the Tarasin Palace. Do you even know about them? If you do, frankly, you are not foolish, you’re blind stupid.”
Elayne’s temper grew by the word. Foolish girl? Blind stupid? She would not put up with it, especially not right after being forced to crawl to Mat Cauthon. Dandle? Mat Cauthon? She maintained her outward composure, though, but not so Nynaeve.
She glared in a fury, and the glow of saidar enveloped her as she bounded to her feet. Flows of Air wrapped mistress Anan from shoulders to ankles, crushing her skirts and petticoats against her legs, just short of tight enough to topple her. “I happen to be one of those sisters in the palace. Nynaeve al’Meara of the Yellow Ajah, to be exact. Now would you like me to carry you down to the kitchens? I know something of how to wash out a mouth.” Elayne stepped away from the innkeeper’s outstretched arm.
The woman had to feel the pressure of the flows, and even a half-wit would have known what those invisible bonds must be, yet she did not blink! Her green-flecked eyes narrowed, no more. “So one of you can channel, at least,” she said calmly. “I should let you drag me downstairs, child. Whatever you do to me, you would be in the hands of real Aes Sedai by noon; I’ll wager that.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” Nynaeve demanded. “I—!”
The Anan woman did not even pause. “You’ll not only spend the next year blubbering, you will do part of it in front of anyone you told that you are Aes Sedai. Be sure, they’ll make you tell. They will turn your liver to water. I should let you go blundering on your way, or else run across to the palace as soon as you loose me. The only reason I don’t is that they’ll make an example of Lord Mat nearly as much as of you, if they even suspect he’s helped you, and as I said, I like the young man.”
“I’m telling you—” Nynaeve tried again, but still the innkeeper gave her no chance to tell anything. Tied like a bundle, the woman was a boulder rolling downhill. She was the whole hillside falling, flattening whatever lay in its path.
“Trying to keep up the lie does no good, Nynaeve. You look to be, oh, twenty-one give or take a year, so you might be as much as ten years older if you’ve already reached the slowing. You might even have worn the shawl four or five years. Except for one thing.” Her head, the only part of her she could move, swiveled toward Elayne. “You, child, aren’t old enough to have slowed yet, and no woman has ever worn the shawl as young as you. Never in the history of the Tower. If you ever were in the Tower, I’ll wager you wore white and squeaked every time the Mistress of Novices glanced your way. You had some goldsmith make that ring for you—there are some fool enough, I hear—or maybe Nynaeve stole it for you, if she has any right to hers. Either way, since you can’t be a sister, neither can she. No Aes Sedai would travel with a woman who was pretending.”
Elayne frown
ed, not noticing that she was chewing her lower lip. Slowed. Slowing. How did an innkeeper in Ebou Dar know those words? Maybe Setalle Anan had gone to the Tower as a girl, though she would not have remained long, since she clearly could not channel. Elayne would have known even if her ability had been as small as her own mother’s, and Morgase Trakand had had an ability so small she would have been sent away in a matter of weeks probably, had she not been heir to a strong House.
“Release her, Nynaeve,” she said, smiling. She truly did feel more well-disposed toward the woman, now. It must have been terrible to make that journey to Tar Valon only to be turned away. There was no reason the woman had to believe them—something tickled at that, but she could not say what—no reason at all, but if she had made the trip to Tar Valon, maybe she would walk across the Mol Hara. Merilille, or any of the other sisters, could set her straight.
“Release her?” Nynaeve yelped. “Elayne?”
“Release her. Mistress Anan, I see the only way to convince you is—”
“The Amyrlin Seat and three Sitters couldn’t convince me, child.” Light, did she ever let anyone finish a sentence? “Now, I don’t have time for any more games. I can help the pair of you. I know those who can, anyway, some women who take in strays. You can thank Lord Mat that I’m willing to take you to them, but I must know. Were you ever in the Tower, or are you wilders? If you were there, were you put out, or did you run away? The truth. They handle each in a different way.”
Elayne shrugged. They had done what they came for; she was more than ready to stop wasting time and get on with what needed doing next. “If you won’t be convinced, then that’s all there is to it. Nynaeve? It is past time we were on our way.”
The flows around the innkeeper vanished, and the glow around Nynaeve too, but Nynaeve stood there watching the woman warily, hopefully. She wet her lips. “You know a group of women who can help us?”
“Nynaeve?” Elayne said. “We don’t need any help. We are Aes Sedai, remember?”
With a wry glance in her direction, Mistress Anan gave her skirts a shake to straighten them and bent to smooth her exposed petticoats. Her real attention was on Nynaeve; Elayne had never felt so completely shunted aside in her life. “I know a few women who take in the occasional wilder or runaway or woman who failed her test for Accepted or the shawl. There must be at least fifty of them, altogether, though the number changes. They can help you find a life without the risk of a real sister making you wish she’d just skin you and be done. Now, don’t lie to me. Were you ever in the Tower? If you’ve run away, you might as well decide to go back. The Tower managed to find most runaways even during the War of the Hundred Years, so you needn’t think this little bother now will stop them. In truth, my suggestion then would be to go across the square and throw yourself on a sister’s mercy. It will be a small mercy, I’m afraid, but you can believe me, it’s more than you’ll find if they have to drag you back. You won’t even think of so much as leaving the Tower grounds without permission after that.”
Nynaeve drew a deep breath. “We were told to leave the Tower, Mistress Anan. I will swear to that however you ask.”
Elayne stared in disbelief. “Nynaeve, what are you saying? Mistress Anan, we are Aes Sedai.”
The Anan woman laughed. “Child, let me talk with Nynaeve, who at least seems old enough to have sense. You tell the Circle that, and they will not take it kindly. They won’t care you can channel; they can, too, and they’ll smack your bottom or toss you out in the street on your nose if you play the fool.”
“Who is this Circle?” Elayne demanded. “We are Aes Sedai. You come across to the Tarasin Palace, and you will see.”
“I’ll keep her in hand,” Nynaeve had the gall to say, all the while frowning and grimacing at Elayne as if she were the one who had gone mad.
The Anan woman merely nodded. “Good. Now take off those rings and put them away. The Circle doesn’t allow that sort of pretending. They’ll have them melted down to give you a start. Though by the look of your dresses, you have coin. If you stole it, don’t let Reanne know. One of the first rules you’ll have to learn is, don’t steal even if you are starving. They don’t want to draw attention.”
Elayne made a fist and thrust it behind her back. And watched Nynaeve meekly slip her ring off and tuck it into her belt pouch. Nynaeve, who howled every time Merilille or Adeleas or any of them forgot she was a full sister!
“Trust me, Elayne,” Nynaeve said.
Which Elayne would have had an easier time of if she had any notion what the woman was up to. Still, she did trust her. Mostly. “A small sacrifice,” she muttered. Aes Sedai did go without their rings when the need arose, and she had too, while passing for a sister, but it was hers by right, now. Removing that band of gold almost hurt physically.
“Talk to your friend, child,” the Anan woman told Nynaeve impatiently. “Reanne Corly won’t put up with all this sulky pouting, and if you make me waste my morning for nothing. . . . Come along, come along. It’s lucky for you I like Lord Mat.”
Elayne held on to cool composure by a fingernail. Sulky pouting? Sulky pouting? When she had the chance, she was going to kick Nynaeve where it hurt!
CHAPTER
23
Next Door to a Weaver
Nynaeve did want to talk to Elayne, away from the innkeeper’s ears, but she did not find the chance right away. The woman marched them out of the room doing a fine imitation of a guard on prisoners, her stony impatience undented by the wary look she cast at Mat’s door. At the back of the inn a set of unrailed stone steps led down into a large hot kitchen full of baking smells, where the roundest woman Nynaeve had ever seen was wielding a large wooden spoon like a scepter, directing three others in sliding crusty brown loaves from the ovens and replacing them with rolls of pale dough. A large pot of the coarse white porridge that was eaten for breakfast hereabout bubbled gently on one of the white-tiled stoves.
“Enid,” Mistress Anan addressed the round woman, “I am going out for a little while. I need to take these two children to someone who has time to mother them properly.”
Wiping broad, floury hands on a piece of white toweling, Enid studied Nynaeve and Elayne disapprovingly. Everything about her was round, her sweaty olive-skinned face, her dark eyes, all of her; she seemed made of very large balls stuffed into a dress. The marriage knife she wore hanging outside her snowy apron sparkled with a full dozen stones. “Is this the pair of barkers Caira was chattering about, Mistress? Fancy bits for the young Lord’s taste, I’d have said. He likes them with a bit of wiggle.” That amused her, by her tone. The innkeeper shook her head in vexation. “I told that girl to hold her tongue. I won’t let that sort of rumor touch The Wandering Woman. Remind Caira for me, Enid, and use your spoon to get her attention, if need be.” The gaze she turned on Nynaeve and Elayne was so disparaging that Nynaeve nearly gasped. “Would anyone with half their wits believe these two were Aes Sedai? Spent all their coin on dresses to impress the man, and now they’d starve unless they smile for him. Aes Sedai!” Giving Enid no chance to answer, she seized Nynaeve’s ear with her right hand, Elayne’s with her left, and in three quick steps had them out into the stableyard.
That was as long as Nynaeve’s shock held. Then she pulled free, or tried to, because the woman let go at the same instant and she stumbled half a dozen paces, glaring indignantly. She had not bargained for being dragged about. Elayne’s chin rose, her blue eyes so cold Nynaeve would not have been surprised to see frost forming in her curls.
Hands on hips, Mistress Anan seemed not to notice. Or perhaps she simply did not care. “I can hope no one in there believes Caira after that,” she said calmly. “If I could have been sure you had the wits to keep your mouths shut, I’d have said and done more, and made certain.” She was calm, but not at all pleasant or soft; they had troubled her morning. “Now follow me and don’t get lost. Or if you do, do not show your faces anywhere near my inn again, or I’ll send somebody to the palace to tel
l Merilille and Teslyn. They are two of the real sisters, and they’ll probably rip you each down the middle and share you out.”
Elayne shifted her gaze from the innkeeper to Nynaeve. Not a glare, or a frown, yet a very meaning look just the same. Nynaeve wondered whether she was going to be able to go through with this. The thought of Mat convinced her; any chance was better than that.
“We won’t lose ourselves, Mistress Anan,” she said, striving for meekness. She thought she did fairly well, considering how foreign meekness was to her. “Thank you for helping us.” Smiling at the innkeeper, she did her best to ignore Elayne, whose stare became more meaningful, hard as that was to credit. Looks or no looks, she had to make sure the woman continued to think them worth the trouble. “We are truly grateful, Mistress Anan.”
Mistress Anan eyed her askance, then sniffed and shook her head. When this was done, Nynaeve decided, she was going to drag the innkeeper to the palace, if need be, and make the other sisters acknowledge her in Mistress Anan’s presence.
This early, the stableyard was empty save for a lone boy of ten or twelve with a bucket and a sieve who sprinkled water to dampen the hard-packed ground against dust. The white plastered stable’s doors were wide open, and a barrow sat in front with a dung-fork resting across it. Sounds like a huge frog being stepped on floated out; Nynaeve decided it was a man singing. Would they have to ride to reach their destination? Even a short journey would not be pleasant; walking only across the square and meaning to be back before the sun rose very high, they had brought neither hats nor parasols nor hooded cloaks.
Mistress Anan led them through the stableyard, however, down a narrow alleyway between the stable and a high wall that had drought-bedraggled trees poking above the top. Someone’s garden, no doubt. A small gate at the end let into a dusty alley so cramped dawn had not completely reached it yet.
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