“The best way to what?” Bryne asked. “Outrage me?”
“Look,” Gawyn said, “perhaps I was hasty, but I have an important task. You need to listen to me.”
“And if I don’t?” Bryne asked. “If I instead throw you out of my camp for being a spoiled princeling with too much pride and not enough sense?”
Gawyn frowned. “Be careful, Gareth. I’ve learned a great deal since we last met. I think you’ll find that your sword can no longer best mine as easily as it once did.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Bryne said. “Light, boy! You always were a talented one. But you think that just because you’re skilled with the sword, your words hold more weight? I should listen because you’ll kill me if I don’t? I thought I taught you far better than that.”
Bryne had aged since Gawyn had last seen him. But that age didn’t bow Bryne down—it rested comfortably on his shoulders. A few more traces of white at his temples, a few more wrinkles around the eyes, yet strong and lean enough of body that he looked years younger than he was. One couldn’t look at Gareth Bryne and see anything other than a man in—certainly not past—his prime.
Gawyn locked eyes with the general, trying to keep the anger from boiling out. Bryne held his gaze, calm. Solid. As a general should be. As Gawyn should be.
Gawyn looked away, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself. “Light,” he whispered, releasing his sword and raising a hand to his head. He suddenly felt very, very tired. “I’m sorry, Gareth. You’re right. I’ve been a fool.”
Bryne grunted. “Good to hear you say that. I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you.”
Gawyn sighed, wiping his brow, wishing for something cool to drink. His anger melted away, and he felt exhausted. “It has been a difficult year,” he said, “and I rode myself too hard getting here. I’m at the edge of my mind.”
“You aren’t the only one, lad,” Bryne said. He took a deep breath and walked to a small serving table, poured a cup of something for Gawyn. It was only warm tea, but Gawyn took it thankfully and sipped.
“These are times to test men,” Bryne said, pouring himself a cup. He took a sip and grimaced.
“What?” Gawyn asked, glancing down at his cup.
“It’s nothing. I despise this stuff.”
“Then why drink it?” Gawyn asked.
“It’s supposed to improve my health,” Bryne grumbled. Before Gawyn could ask further, the large general continued, “So are you going to make me throw you in the stocks before you’ll tell me why you decided to fight your way into my command post?”
Gawyn stepped forward. “Gareth. It’s Egwene. They have her.”
“The White Tower Aes Sedai?”
Gawyn nodded urgently.
“I know.” Bryne took another drink, then grimaced again.
“We have to go for her!” Gawyn said. “I came to ask you for help. I intend to mount a rescue.”
Bryne snorted softly. “A rescue? And how do you intend to get into the White Tower? Even the Aiel couldn’t break into that city.”
“They didn’t want to,” Gawyn said. “But I don’t need to take the city, I just need to sneak a small force in, then get one person out. Every rock has its cracks. I’ll find a way.”
Bryne set his cup aside. He looked at Gawyn, firm, weathered face an icon of nobility. “But tell me this, lad. How are you going to get her to come out with you?”
Gawyn started. “Why, she’ll be happy to come. Why wouldn’t she?”
“Because she’s forbidden us to rescue her,” Bryne said, clasping his hands behind his back again. “Or so I’ve been able to gather. The Aes Sedai tell me little. One would think they’d be more trusting toward a man they depend on to run this siege of theirs. Anyway, the Amyrlin can communicate with them somehow, and she’s instructed them to leave her be.”
What? That was ridiculous! Obviously, the Aes Sedai in camp were fudging the facts. “Bryne, she’s imprisoned! The Aes Sedai I heard talking said that she’s being beaten daily. They’ll execute her!”
“I don’t know,” Bryne said. “She’s been with them for weeks now and they haven’t killed her yet.”
“They’ll kill her,” Gawyn said urgently. “You know they will. Perhaps you parade a fallen enemy before your soldiers for a time, but eventually you have to mount his head on a pike to let them know he’s dead and gone. You know I’m right.”
Bryne regarded him, then nodded. “Perhaps I do. But there’s still nothing I can do. I’m bound by oaths, Gawyn. I can’t do anything unless that girl instructs me to.”
“You’d let her die?”
“If that’s what it takes to keep my oath, then yes.”
If Bryne was bound by oath . . . well, he’d sooner hear an Aes Sedai tell a lie than see Gareth Bryne break his word. But Egwene! There had to be something he could do!
“I’ll try to get you an audience with some of the Aes Sedai I serve,” Bryne said. “Perhaps they can do something. If you persuade them that a rescue is needed, and that the Amyrlin would want it, then we’ll see.”
Gawyn nodded. It was something at least. “Thank you.”
Bryne waved indifferently. “Though I should see you in the stocks. For wounding three of my men, if nothing else.”
“Have an Aes Sedai Heal them,” Gawyn said. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve no lack of sisters to bully you.”
“Bah,” Bryne said. “I can rarely get them to Heal anyone unless the soldier’s life is threatened. I had a man take a bad spill while riding the other day, and I was told that Healing would only teach him to be reckless. ‘Pain is its own lesson,’ the blasted woman said. ‘Perhaps next time he won’t see fit to make sport for his friends while riding.’ ”
Gawyn grimaced. “But surely they’ll make an exception for those men. After all, an enemy did do the wounding.”
“We’ll see,” Bryne said. “The sisters rarely visit the soldiers. They’ve their own business to be about.”
“There’s one in the outer camp now,” Gawyn said absently, glancing over his shoulder.
“Younger girl? Dark hair, without the ageless face?”
“No, this was an Aes Sedai. I could tell because of the face. She was kind of plump, with lighter hair.”
“Probably just scouting for Warders,” Bryne said, sighing. “They do that.”
“I don’t think so,” Gawyn said, glancing over his shoulder. “She was hiding among the washwomen.” As he thought about it, he realized that she could very well be a spy for the White Tower loyalists.
Bryne’s frown deepened. Perhaps he had the same thoughts. “Show me,” he said, striding toward the tent flaps. He threw them aside, walking back out into the morning light, Gawyn following.
“You never did explain what you are doing here, Gawyn,” Bryne said as they walked through the orderly camp, soldiers saluting their general as he passed.
“I told you,” Gawyn said, hand resting comfortably on the pommel of his sword. “I am going to find a way to get Egwene out of that death trap.”
“I didn’t mean what you’re doing in my camp. I meant why you were in the area in the first place. Why aren’t you back in Caemlyn, helping your sister?”
“You have news of Elayne,” Gawyn said, stopping. Light! He should have asked earlier. He really was tired. “I heard that she was in your camp earlier. She’s gone back to Caemlyn? Is she safe?”
“She hasn’t been with us for a long while,” Bryne said. “But she seems to be doing well.” He stopped, glancing at Gawyn. “You mean you don’t know?”
“What?”
“Well, rumors are unreliable,” Bryne said. “But I have confirmed many of them with the Aes Sedai, who have been Traveling to Caemlyn to listen for news. Your sister holds the Lion Throne. It seems that she’s undone much of the mess your mother left for her.”
Gawyn took a deep breath. Thank the Light, he thought, closing his eyes. Elayne lived. Elayne held the throne. He opened his eyes, and the overcas
t sky seemed a little more bright. He continued walking, Bryne falling into step beside him.
“You really didn’t know,” Bryne said. “Where have you been, lad? You’re the First Prince of the Sword now, or you will be once you return to Caemlyn! Your place is at your sister’s side.”
“Egwene first.”
“You made an oath,” Bryne said sternly. “Before me. Have you forgotten?”
“No,” Gawyn said. “But if Elayne has the throne, then she’s safe for now. I’ll get Egwene and tow her back to Caemlyn where I can keep an eye on her. Where I can keep an eye on both of them.”
Bryne snorted. “I think I’d like to watch you trying that first part,” he noted. “But regardless, why weren’t you there when Elayne was trying to take the throne? What have you been doing that is more important than that?”
“I . . . grew entangled,” Gawyn said, eyes forward.
“Entangled?” Bryne asked. “You were at the White Tower when all of this—” He cut off, falling silent. The two walked side by side for a moment.
“Where did you hear sisters talking about Egwene’s capture?” Bryne asked. “How would you know she’s being punished?”
Gawyn said nothing.
“Blood and bloody ashes!” Bryne exclaimed. The general rarely cursed. “I knew that the person leading those raids against me was too well informed. And here I was, looking for a leak among my officers!”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“I’ll judge that,” Bryne said. “You’ve been killing my men. Leading raids against me!”
“Leading raids against the rebels,” Gawyn said, turning hard eyes on Bryne. “You may blame me for bullying my way into your camp, but do you honestly expect me to feel guilty for helping the White Tower against the force besieging it?”
Bryne fell silent. Then he nodded curtly. “Very well. But that makes you an enemy commander.”
“No longer,” Gawyn said. “I’ve left that command.”
“But—”
“I helped them,” Gawyn said. “I no longer do. Nothing I see here will return to your enemies, Bryne. I swear it on the Light.”
Bryne didn’t respond immediately. They passed tents, likely for the high officers, approaching the palisade wall. “Very well,” Bryne said. “I can trust you haven’t changed enough to break your word.”
“I wouldn’t turn against that oath,” Gawyn said harshly. “How could you think that I would?”
“I’ve had experience with unexpected renunciations of oaths lately,” Bryne said. “I said I believe you, lad. And I do. But you still haven’t explained why you didn’t return to Caemlyn.”
“Egwene was with the Aes Sedai,” Gawyn said. “As far as I knew, Elayne was as well. This seemed a good place to be, although I wasn’t certain I liked Elaida’s authority.”
“And what is Egwene to you?” Bryne asked softly.
Gawyn met his eyes. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I wish I did.”
Strangely, Bryne chuckled. “I see. And I understand. Come, let’s find this Aes Sedai you think you saw.”
“I did see her, Gareth,” Gawyn said, nodding to the guards as they passed out the gates. The men saluted Bryne, but watched Gawyn as they would a blacklance. As well they should.
“We shall see what we find,” Bryne said. “Regardless, once I get you a meeting with the Aes Sedai leaders, I want your word that you’ll go back to Caemlyn. Leave Egwene to us. You need to help Elayne. It’s your place to be in Andor.”
“I could say the same of you.” Gawyn surveyed the teeming followers’ camp. Where had the woman been?
“You could,” Bryne said gruffly. “But it wouldn’t be true. Your mother saw to that.”
Gawyn glanced at him.
“She put me out to pasture, Gawyn. Banished me and threatened me with death.”
“Impossible!”
Bryne looked grim. “I felt the same way. But it is true nonetheless. The things she said . . . they stung, Gawyn. That they did indeed.”
That was all Bryne said, but from him, it spoke volumes. Gawyn had never heard the man offer a word of discontent about his station or his orders. He had been loyal to Morgase—loyal with the kind of steadfastness a ruler could only hope for. Gawyn had never known a man more sure, or a man less likely to complain.
“It must have been part of some scheme,” Gawyn said. “You know Mother. If she hurt you, there was a reason.”
Bryne shook his head. “No reason other than foolish love for that fop Gaebril. She nearly let her clouded head ruin Andor.”
“She’d never!” Gawyn snapped. “Gareth, you of all people should know that!”
“I should,” Bryne said, lowering his voice. “And I wish I did.”
“She had another motive,” Gawyn said stubbornly. He felt the heat of anger rise within him again. Around them, peddlers glanced at the two, but said nothing. They probably knew not to approach Bryne. “But now we’ll never know it. Not now that she’s dead. Curse al’Thor! The day can’t come soon enough when I can run him through.”
Bryne looked at Gawyn sharply. “Al’Thor saved Andor, son. Or as near to it as a man could.”
“How could you say that?” Gawyn said. “How could you speak well of that monster? He killed my mother!”
“I don’t know if I believe those rumors or not,” Bryne said, rubbing his chin. “But if I do, lad, then perhaps he did Andor a favor. You don’t know how bad it got, there at the end.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this,” Gawyn said, lowering his hand to his sword. “I won’t hear her name soiled like that, Bryne. I mean it.”
Bryne looked him directly in the eyes. His gaze was so solid. Like eyes carved of granite. “I’ll always speak truth, Gawyn. No matter who challenges me on it. It’s hard to hear? Well, it was harder to live. No good comes of spreading complaints. But her son needs to know. In the end, Gawyn, your mother turned against Andor by embracing Gaebril. She needed to be removed. If al’Thor did that for us, then we have need to thank him.”
Gawyn shook his head, rage and shock fighting one another. This was Gareth Bryne?
“These aren’t the words of a spurned lover,” Bryne said, face set, as if shoving aside emotions. He spoke softly as he and Gawyn walked, camp followers giving them a wide berth. “I can accept that a woman could lose affection for a man and bestow it on another. Yes, Morgase the woman I can forgive. But Morgase the Queen? She gave the kingdom to that snake. She sent her allies to be beaten and imprisoned. She wasn’t right in her mind. Sometimes, when a soldier’s arm festers, it needs to be cut free to save the man’s life. I’m pleased at Elayne’s success, and it is a wound to speak these words. But you have to bury that hatred of al’Thor. He wasn’t the problem. Your mother was.”
Gawyn kept his teeth clenched. Never, he thought. I will never forgive al’Thor. Not for this.
“I can see the intent behind that look,” Bryne said. “All the more reason to get you back to Andor. You’ll see. If you don’t trust me, ask your sister. See what she says of it.”
Gawyn nodded sharply. Enough of that. Ahead, he noted the place where he’d seen the woman. He glanced toward the distant lines of washwomen, then turned and strode toward them, edging between two merchants with pungent pens full of chickens, selling eggs. “This way,” he said, perhaps too sharply.
He didn’t look to see if Bryne followed. Soon the general caught up to him, looking displeased, but he kept his peace. They walked down a crowded, twisting pathway among people in browns and dull grays, and soon reached the line of women kneeling before two long wooden troughs of slowly flowing water. Men stood at the far end, pouring water down the troughs, and the line of women washed clothing in the sudsy one, then rinsed them off in the cleaner trough. No wonder the ground was so wet! At least here it smelled of suds and cleanliness.
The women had their sleeves rolled up to their upper arms, and most of them chatted idly as they worked, rubbing clothing against boards
in the troughs. They were all dressed in those same brown skirts he had seen on the Aes Sedai. Gawyn rested his hand idly on his pommel, inspecting the women from behind.
“Which one?” Bryne asked.
“Just a moment,” Gawyn said. There were dozens of women. Had he really seen what he’d thought? Why would an Aes Sedai be in this camp, of all places? Surely Elaida wouldn’t send an Aes Sedai out to spy; their faces made them too easy to recognize.
Of course, if they were that easy to recognize, why couldn’t he spot her now?
And then he saw her. She was one of the only women who wasn’t chatting with those around her. She knelt with her head bowed, the yellow kerchief tied around her head, shading her face, a few locks of light hair sticking out from under the cloth. Her posture was so subservient that he almost missed her, but the shape of her body stood out. She was plump, and that kerchief was the only yellow one in the line.
Gawyn strode down the line of working women, several of whom stood up, hands on hips as they explained in no uncertain terms that “Soldiers with their big feet and awkward elbows” should stay out of the way of women at work. Gawyn ignored them, pressing on until he stood beside the yellow kerchief.
This is insane, Gawyn thought. There’s never in all of history been an Aes Sedai who could force herself to adopt that kind of posture.
Bryne stepped up beside him. Gawyn stooped down, trying to get a look at the woman’s face. She bowed down further, scrubbing more furiously at the shirt in the trough before her.
“Woman,” Gawyn said. “May I see your face?”
She didn’t respond. Gawyn looked up at Bryne. Hesitantly, the general reached down and pushed back the plump woman’s kerchief. The face underneath was distinctly Aes Sedai, with that unmistakable ageless quality. She didn’t look up. She just kept working.
“I said it wouldn’t work,” said a hefty woman nearby. The woman rose and waddled down the line, wearing a tentlike dress of green and brown. “ ‘My Lady,’ I told her, ‘you can do as you wish, I ain’t one to refuse such as you, but someone’s going to notice you.’ ”
The Gathering Storm Page 45