Nynaeve sighed heavily. She should have known.
Stepping out from the other Yellows, Nisao cleared her throat, and in passing shot Nynaeve a glare that could only be called accusatory. “I suppose this means we will have to gentle Logain again.” She sounded as though she wanted to deny any of it had happened.
Heads began nodding, and then Carlinya spoke, like an icicle stabbed into the room. “Can we?” Every eye turned to her, but she went on calmly, coolly. “Ethically, can we consider supporting a man who can channel, a man trying to gather other men who can, while at the same time we go on as before, gentling those we find? Practically, what effect will it have on him when he learns? Distressing as it may be, as matters stand, he will see us as separate from the Tower, and more importantly, from Elaida and the Red Ajah. If we gentle even one man, we may lose that distinction, and with it our chance to gain a hold on him before Elaida does.”
Silence cloaked the room when she stopped. Aes Sedai exchanged troubled looks, and those directed at Nynaeve made Nisao’s look laudatory. Sisters had died in capturing Logain, and even if he was safely shielded again, she had given them him to deal with all over again, and a worse pickle besides.
“I think you should go,” Sheriam said softly.
Nynaeve was not about to argue. She made her curtsies as quickly and carefully as she could, and did her best not to run in leaving.
Outside, Elayne rose from the stone step. “I’m sorry, Nynaeve,” she said, brushing her skirt. “I was so excited, I blurted out everything to Sheriam before I realized Romanda and Delana were there.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nynaeve said heavily, starting down the crowded street. “It would have gotten out sooner or later.” It just was not fair, though. I did something they said couldn’t be done, and I still have to scrub pots! “Elayne, I don’t care what you say; we have to go. Carlinya was talking about getting a ‘hold’ on Rand. This lot won’t be any better than Elaida. Thom or Juilin will get horses for us, and Birgitte can just bite her elbow.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late,” Elayne said miserably. “Word is spreading already.”
Larissa Lyndel and Zenare Ghodar swooped down from opposite directions like hawks on either side of Nynaeve. Larissa was a bony woman whose plainness almost overcame Aes Sedai agelessness, Zenare slightly plump and haughty enough for two queens, but both wore faces of eager anticipation. They were Yellow Ajah, though neither had been in the room when she Healed Siuan and Leane.
“I want to see you go through everything step by step, Nynaeve,” Larissa said, laying hold of an arm.
“Nynaeve,” Zenare said, seizing the other arm, “I wager that I will find a hundred things you never thought of, if you repeat the weave often enough.”
Salita Toranes, Tairen and almost as dark as one of the Sea Folk, seemed to pop out of nowhere. “Others ahead of me, I see. Well, burn my soul if I’ll wait in line.”
“I was here first, Salita,” Zenare said firmly. And tightened her grip.
“I was first,” Larissa said, tightening hers.
Nynaeve shot a look of pure horror at Elayne, and got commiseration in return, and a shrug. This was what Elayne had meant about too late. She would not have a waking moment to herself after this.
“. . . angry?” Zenare was saying. “I know fifty ways at the front of my head to make her angry enough to chew rocks.”
“I can think of a hundred,” Larissa said. “I intend to break her block if it’s the last thing I do.”
Magla Daronos shouldered her way into the group, and she had the shoulders for it. She looked as if she worked the sword, or a blacksmith’s hammer. “You will break it, Larissa? Hah! I do have several ways in mind already to draw it out of her.”
Nynaeve just wanted to scream.
It was all Siuan could do not to embrace saidar and hold it, but she thought she might start crying again. That would never do. Besides, it would seem like some fool novice’s display to the women crowding around her in the waiting room. Every expression of wonder and delight, every warm welcome as if she had been away for years, came as balm, especially from those who had been friends before she became Amyrlin, before time and duty pulled them apart. Lelaine and Delana wrapped their arms around her as they had not in long years. Moiraine had been the only one closer, the only one beside Leane she had managed to keep after donning the stole, and duty had helped keep them together.
“It is so good to have you back,” Lelaine laughed.
“So very good,” Delana murmured warmly.
Siuan laughed, and had to scrub tears from her cheeks. Light, what was the matter with her? She had not wept this easily as a child!
Maybe it was just joy, at regaining saidar, at all the warmth around her. The Light knew, altogether it was enough to unsettle anybody. She had never dared dream this day might come, and now that it had, she held nothing against any of these women, not their cold distance before, not their insistence that she remember her place. The line between Aes Sedai and not Aes Sedai was clear—she had insisted on it before she was stilled, and it went without saying that she would again—and she knew how stilled women had to be dealt with for their own good and the good of those who could still channel. Had had to be dealt with. How strange it was that that would never be so again.
From the corner of her eye she saw Gareth Bryne trotting up the stairs at the side of the room. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, and hurried after him.
Even hurrying meant stopping every two steps to accept another congratulation all the way to the stairs, so she did not catch up until he was striding down a corridor on the second floor. Rushing ahead, she planted herself in front of him. His mostly gray hair was windblown, his square face and worn buff coat dusty. He looked as solid as stone.
Lifting a sheaf of papers, he said, “I have to drop this off, Siuan,” and tried to step around her.
She moved to block him. “I’ve been Healed. I can channel again.”
He nodded; just nodded! “I heard some talk. I suppose this means you’ll be channeling my shirts clean from now on. Maybe they actually will be clean now. I’ve regretted letting Min go so easily.”
Siuan stared at him. The man was no fool. Why was he pretending not to understand? “I am Aes Sedai again. Do you really expect an Aes Sedai to do your laundry?”
Just to drive it home, she embraced saidar—that missed sweetness was so wonderful she shivered—wrapped him in flows of Air, and lifted him. Tried to lift him. Gaping, she drew more, tried harder, until the sweetness stabbed like a thousand hooks. His boots never stirred from the floor.
It was impossible. True, the simple act of picking something up was one of the hardest in channeling, but she had been able to lift nearly three times her own weight.
“Is this supposed to impress me,” Bryne said calmly, “or frighten me? Sheriam and her friends gave their word, the Hall gave its word, and more importantly, you gave yours, Siuan. I wouldn’t let you get away from me if you were the Amyrlin again. Now undo whatever it is you’ve done, or when I get free of it, I’ll turn you upside down and smack you for being childish. You’re very seldom childish, so you needn’t think I will let you start now.”
In a near daze, she released the Source. Not for his threat—he was capable of it; he had done it before; but not for that—and not for shock at being unable to pick him up. Tears seemed to well up in her like a fountain; she hoped that letting go of saidar might stop them. A few still slid down her cheeks, though, however hard she blinked.
Gareth was cupping her face in his hands before she knew he had moved. “Light, woman, don’t, tell me I frightened you. I didn’t think being dropped in a pit with a pack of leopards would frighten you.”
“I am not frightened,” she said stiffly. Good; she could still lie. Tears, building inside.
“We have to work out some way not to be at one another’s throat all the time,” he said quietly.
“There is no reason for us to work out anyt
hing.” They were coming. They were coming. Oh, Light, she could not let him see. “Just leave me alone, please. Please, just go.” For a wonder, he hesitated only a moment before doing as she asked.
With the sound of his boots behind her, she managed to make it around the corner into the crossing hallway before the dam burst and she sank to her knees weeping piteously. She knew what it was, now. Alric, her Warder. Her dead Warder, murdered when Elaida deposed her. She could lie—the Three Oaths were still gone—but some part of her bond to Alric, a bond flesh to flesh and mind to mind, had been resurrected. The pain of his death, the pain first masked by the shock of what Elaida intended and then buried by stilling, that pain filled her to the brim. Huddled against the wall, bawling, she was only glad Gareth was not seeing this. I have no time to fall in love, burn him!
The thought was a bucket of cold water in her face. The pain remained, but the tears stopped, and she scrambled to her feet. Love? That was as impossible as . . . as. . . . She could not think of anything impossible enough. The man was impossible!
Suddenly she realized Leane was standing not two paces away, watching. Siuan made one effort at wiping the tears from her face, then gave it up. There was nothing but sympathy on Leane’s face. “How did you deal with Anjen’s . . . death, Leane?” That had been fifteen years ago now.
“I cried,” Leane said. “For a month I held it in during the day, and spent the night in a quivering ball of tears in the middle of my bed. After I had torn the sheets to shreds. For three more, I could find tears in my eyes without warning. Over a year passed before I stopped hurting. That’s why I never bonded another. I did not think I could live through that again. It does pass, Siuan.” She found a roguish smile somewhere. “Now I think I could manage two or three Warders, if not four.”
Siuan nodded. She could cry at night. As for Gareth bloody Bryne. . . . There was no “as for.” There was not! “Do you think they’re ready?” They had had only a moment to talk below. This hook had to be set quickly or it would not be set at all.
“Perhaps. I did not have much time. And I had to be careful.” Leane paused. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, Siuan? It’s changing everything we have worked for, on no notice at all, and. . . . I am not as strong as I was, Siuan, and neither are you. Most of the women here can channel more than either of us, now. Light, I think some of the Accepted can, not even counting Elayne or Nynaeve.”
“I know,” Siuan said. It had to be risked. The other plan had only been a stop-gap, because she was no longer Aes Sedai. But now she was Aes Sedai again, and she had been deposed with only the barest nod to Tower law. If she was Aes Sedai again, was she not Amyrlin again as well?
Squaring her shoulders, she went below to do battle with the Hall.
Lying on her bed in her shift, Elayne stifled a yawn and went back to rubbing the cream Leane had given her into her hands. It seemed to do some good; at least they felt softer. A night breeze stirred through the window, making the lone candle flicker. If anything, the air only made the room hotter.
Nynaeve staggered in, banged the door shut, flung herself across her bed, and lay staring at Elayne. “Magla is the most contemptible, hateful, low woman in the entire world,” she mumbled. “No, Larissa is. No, it’s Romanda.”
“I take it they made you angry enough to channel.” Nynaeve grunted, with the vilest expression, and Elayne hurried on. “How many did you demonstrate for? I expected you long ago. I looked for you at dinner, but I couldn’t find you.”
“I had a roll for dinner,” Nynaeve muttered. “One roll! I demonstrated for all of them, every last Yellow in Salidar. Only they aren’t satisfied. They want me one at a time. They set up a rotating schedule. Larissa has me tomorrow morning—before breakfast!—and Zenare right after, then. . . . They discussed how to make me angry as if I was not there!” She raised her head from the coverlet, looking hunted. “Elayne, they are competing over who is going to break my block. They’re like boys trying to catch a greased pig on feastday, and I am the pig!”
Yawning, Elayne handed her the pot of hand cream, and after a moment Nynaeve rolled over and began rubbing it on. Nynaeve still had her time at the pots, too.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do as you wanted days ago, Nynaeve. We could have woven disguises like Moghedien’s and walked right past everybody.” Nynaeve’s hands stopped. “What is the matter, Nynaeve?”
“I never thought of that. I never thought of it!”
“You didn’t? I was sure you had. You learned it first, after all.”
“I tried not even to think about what we couldn’t tell the sisters.” Nynaeve’s voice was flat as ice and about as cold and hard. “And now it is too late. I’m too tired to channel if you set my hair on fire, and if they have their way, I will be too tired forever. The only reason they let me go tonight was that I couldn’t find saidar even when Nisao. . . .” She shuddered, and then her hands began moving again, smoothing in the cream.
Elayne let out a small breath. She had very nearly put her foot in it. She was tired, too. Admitting you had been wrong always made the other person feel better, but she hadn’t meant to mention using saidar for disguises. From the first she had been afraid Nynaeve would do that. Here, at the very least, they could keep an eye on what the Salidar Aes Sedai intended, and maybe pass word to Rand through Egwene, once she returned to Tel’aran’rhiod. At the worst, they might have some small influence, through Siuan and Leane.
As if the thought were a summons, the door opened to admit just those women. Leane carried a wooden tray with bread and a bowl of soup, a red pottery cup and a white-glazed pitcher. There was even a sprig of green leaves in a tiny blue vase. “Siuan and I thought you might be hungry, Nynaeve. I hear the Yellows used you hard.”
Elayne was uncertain whether she should rise or not. It was just Siuan and Leane, but they were Aes Sedai again. At least, she thought they were. The two solved the problem by sitting, Siuan on the foot of Elayne’s bed, Leane on Nynaeve’s. Nynaeve eyed them both suspiciously before sitting up with her back against the wall and taking the tray on her knees.
“I heard a rumor you addressed the Hall, Siuan,” Elayne said carefully. “Should we have curtsied?”
“Do you mean are we Aes Sedai again, girl? We are. They wrangled like fishwives on Sunday, but they granted that much at least.” Siuan exchanged glances with Leane, and Siuan’s cheeks colored faintly. Elayne suspected she would never learn what had not been granted.
“Myrelle was kind enough to find me and let me know,” Leane said into the momentary silence. “I think I am going to choose Green.”
Nynaeve choked around her spoon. “What do you mean? Can you change Ajahs?”
“No, you cannot,” Siuan told her. “But what the Hall decided is that although we are Aes Sedai, for a time we weren’t. And since they insist on believing that codswallop was legal, all our ties, binds, associations and titles went overboard.” Her voice was wry enough to rasp wood. “Tomorrow I ask the Blues whether they’ll have me back. I’ve never heard of an Ajah turning anybody down—by the time you’re raised from Accepted, you’ve been guided to the right Ajah whether you know it or not—but the way matters are proceeding, I wouldn’t be completely surprised if they slammed the door on my foot.”
“How are matters proceeding?” Elayne asked. There was something here. Siuan bullied, prodded, twisted your arm; she did not bring soup, sit on your bed and chat like a friend. “I thought everything was going as well as could be expected.” Nynaeve gave her a stare that managed to be incredulous and haggard at the same time. Well, Nynaeve ought to know what she meant.
Siuan twisted around to face her, but she included Nynaeve as well. “I went by Logain’s house. Six sisters are maintaining his shield, the same as when he was captured. He tried to break free when he found out we knew he had been Healed, and they said if only five had been holding the shield, he might have. So he’s as strong as he ever was, or close enough to make no difference. I’m not.
Neither is Siuan. I want you to try again, Nynaeve.”
“I knew it!” Nynaeve flung her spoon down on the tray. “I knew you had some reason for this! Well, I’m too tired to channel, and it wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t. You can’t Heal what has been Healed. You get out of here, and take your vile-tasting soup with you!” Less than half the vile-tasting soup remained, and it was a big bowl.
“I know it won’t work!” Siuan snapped back. “This morning I knew stilling couldn’t be Healed!”
“A moment, Siuan,” Leane said. “Nynaeve, do you realize what we are risking, coming here together? This isn’t a room in an alley with your archer friend standing guard; there are women all through this house, with eyes to see and tongues to talk. If it is found out that Siuan and I have been playing a game with everybody—even ten years from now—well, suffice it to say, Aes Sedai can be given penance, and we would very likely still be on a farm hoeing cabbages after our hair turns white. We came because of what you did for us, to make a fresh start.”
“Why didn’t you go to one of the Yellows?” Elayne asked. “Most of them must know as much about it as Nynaeve by now.” Nynaeve glared indignantly around the spoon. Vile-tasting?
Siuan and Leane exchanged looks, and at last Siuan said reluctantly, “If we go to a sister, everybody knows, soon or late. If Nynaeve does it, maybe anybody who managed to weigh us today will think they were mistaken. Supposedly, all sisters are equal, and there have been Amyrlins who barely managed to channel enough to earn the shawl, but Amyrlins and the heads of Ajahs aside, by custom, if another is stronger in the Power than you, you’re expected to give way to her.”
“I don’t understand,” Elayne said. She was getting quite a lesson out of this; the hierarchy made sense, but she supposed it was one of those things you did not learn until you actually were Aes Sedai. One way and another, she had picked up enough hints to suspect that in many ways your education only began when you put on the shawl. “If Nynaeve can Heal you again, then you’re stronger.”
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