The Wheel of Time

by Robert Jordan

  “Siuan?” Lelaine asked, voice tinged with annoyance. “Do hurry up. And I don’t want to hear any more superstitious nonsense about the sky. Honestly.” The tall Aes Sedai turned away and continued along the walk.

  Superstitious? Siuan thought indignantly. A thousand generations of wisdom isn’t superstition. It’s good sense! But she said nothing, and hurried after Lelaine. Around her, the camp of Aes Sedai loyal to Egwene continued its daily activities, as steady as a clock’s gears. If there was one thing Aes Sedai were good at, it was creating order. Tents were arranged in clusters, by Ajah, as if to imitate the White Tower’s layout. There were few men, and most of those who passed—soldiers on errands from Gareth Bryne’s armies, grooms caring for horses—were quick to be about their duties. They were far outnumbered by worker women, many of whom had gone so far as to embroider the pattern of the Flame of Tar Valon on their skirts or bodices.

  One of the only oddities about the village—if one ignored the fact that there were tents instead of rooms and wooden walkways instead of tiled hallways—was the number of novices. There were hundreds and hundreds. In fact, the number had to be over a thousand now, many more than the Tower had held in recent memory. Once the Aes Sedai were reunited, novices’ quarters that hadn’t been used in decades would have to be reopened. They might even need the second kitchen.

  These novices bustled around in families, and most of the Aes Sedai tried to ignore them. Some did this out of habit; who paid attention to novices? But others did so out of displeasure. By their estimation, women aged enough to be mothers and grandmothers—indeed, many who were mothers and grandmothers—shouldn’t have been entered into the novice book. But what could be done? Egwene al’Vere, the Amyrlin Seat, had declared that it should happen.

  Siuan could still sense shock in some of the Aes Sedai she passed. Egwene was to have been carefully controlled. What had gone wrong? When had the Amyrlin gotten away from them? Siuan would have taken more smug delight from those looks if she hadn’t herself worried about Egwene’s continued captivity in the White Tower. That was a lionfish’s veil indeed. Potential for great success, but also for great disaster. She hurried after Lelaine.

  “What is the status of the negotiations?” Lelaine asked, not bothering to look at Siuan.

  You could go to one of the sessions yourself and find out, Siuan thought. But Lelaine wanted to be seen supervising, not taking an active hand. And asking Siuan, in the open, was also a calculated move. Siuan was known as one of Egwene’s confidants and still carried some measure of notoriety for having been Amyrlin herself. The things Siuan said to Lelaine weren’t important; being seen saying them, however, increased the woman’s influence in camp.

  “They don’t go well, Lelaine,” Siuan said. “Elaida’s emissaries never promise anything, and seem indignant any time we raise important topics, like reinstating the Blue Ajah. I doubt they have any real authority from Elaida to make binding agreements.”

  “Hmm,” Lelaine said thoughtfully, nodding to a group of novices. They bobbed into curtsies. In a shrewd decision, Lelaine had begun talking very acceptingly of the new novices.

  Romanda’s dislike of them was well known; now that Egwene was gone, Romanda had begun to imply that once reconciliation was achieved, this “foolishness” with the aged novices would have to be dealt with swiftly. However, more and more of the other sisters were seeing Egwene’s wisdom. There was great strength among the new novices, and not a few would be raised to Accepted the moment the White Tower was achieved. Recently—by offering tacit acceptance of these women—Lelaine had given herself yet another tie to Egwene.

  Siuan eyed the retreating family of novices. They had curtsied to Lelaine almost as quickly and as deferentially as they would have to the Amyrlin. It was becoming clear that, after months at a stalemate, Lelaine was winning the battle against Romanda for superiority.

  And that was a very large problem.

  Siuan didn’t dislike Lelaine. She was capable, strong-willed and decisive. They had been friends once, though their relationship had changed drastically with Siuan’s changed position.

  Yes, she might say she liked Lelaine. But she didn’t trust the woman, and she particularly didn’t want to see her as Amyrlin. In another era, Lelaine would have done well in the position. But this world needed Egwene, and—friendship or not—Siuan couldn’t afford to let this woman displace the rightful Amyrlin. And she had to make certain Lelaine wasn’t taking action to prevent Egwene’s return.

  “Well,” Lelaine said, “we shall have to discuss the negotiations in the Hall. The Amyrlin wants them to continue, so we certainly can’t let them stop. Yet there must be a way to make them effective. The Amyrlin’s desires must be seen to, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Undoubtedly,” Siuan replied flatly.

  Lelaine eyed her, and Siuan cursed herself for letting her emotions show. Lelaine needed to believe that Siuan was on her side. “I’m sorry, Lelaine. That woman has me in a fury. Why does Elaida hold talks if she won’t concede a single point?”

  Lelaine nodded. “Yes. But who can say why Elaida does what she does? The Amyrlin’s reports indicate that Elaida’s leadership of the Tower has been . . . erratic at best.”

  Siuan simply nodded. Fortunately, Lelaine didn’t seem to suspect Siuan’s disloyalty. Or she didn’t care about it. It was remarkable how innocuous the women thought Siuan was, now that her power had been so greatly reduced.

  Being weak was a new experience. From her very early days in the White Tower, sisters had noted her strength and her sharpness of mind. Whispers of her becoming Amyrlin had begun almost immediately—at times, it seemed that the Pattern itself had pushed Siuan directly into the Seat. Though her hasty ascent to Amyrlin while so young had come as a surprise to many, she herself had not been shocked. When you fished with squid as bait, you shouldn’t be surprised to catch fangfish. If you wanted to catch eels, you used something else entirely.

  When she’d first been Healed, her reduced power had been a disappointment. But that was changing. Yes, it was infuriating to be beneath so many, to lack respect from those around her. However, because she was weaker in power, many seemed to assume she was weaker in political skill as well! Could people really forget so quickly? She was finding her new status among the Aes Sedai to be liberating.

  “Yes,” Lelaine said as she nodded to another group of novices, “I believe that it is time to send envoys to the kingdoms that al’Thor hasn’t conquered. We may not hold the White Tower itself, but that is no reason to abandon our political stewardship of the world.”

  “Yes, Lelaine,” Siuan said. “But are you certain that Romanda won’t argue against that?”

  “Why would she?” Lelaine said dismissively. “It wouldn’t make sense.”

  “Little Romanda does makes sense,” Siuan said. “I think she disagrees just to spite you. But I did see her chatting with Maralenda earlier in the week.”

  Lelaine frowned. Maralenda was a distant cousin to the Trakand line.

  Siuan covered a smile. It was amazing how much you could accomplish when people dismissed you. How many women had she dismissed because they lacked visible power? How often had she been manipulated much as she now manipulated Lelaine?

  “I shall look into it,” Lelaine said. It didn’t matter what she discovered; as long as she was kept busy worrying about Romanda, she wouldn’t be able to spend as much time stealing power from Egwene.

  Egwene. The Amyrlin needed to hurry up and finish with her plotting in the White Tower. What good would it do to undermine Elaida if the Aes Sedai outside crumbled while Egwene wasn’t watching? Siuan could only keep Romanda and Lelaine distracted for so long, particularly now that Lelaine held such a distinct advantage. Light! Some days, she felt that she was trying to juggle buttered live silverpike.

  Siuan checked the position of the sun behind that dockmaster’s sky. It was late afternoon. “Fish guts,” she muttered. “I’ll need to be going, Lelaine.”

 
Lelaine glanced at her. “You have washing, I presume? For that ruffian of a general of yours?”

  “He’s not a ruffian,” Siuan snapped, then cursed herself. She’d lose much of her advantage if she kept snapping at those who thought themselves her betters.

  Lelaine smiled, eyes twinkling as if she knew something special. Insufferable woman. Friend or not, Siuan had half a mind to wipe . . .

  No. “I apologize, Lelaine,” Siuan forced out. “I get on edge, thinking of what that man demands of me.”

  “Yes,” Lelaine said, downturning her lips. “I’ve considered on this, Siuan. The Amyrlin may have suffered Bryne’s bullying of a sister, but I won’t stand for it. You’re one of my attendants now.”

  One of your attendants? Siuan thought. I thought that I was just supposed to support you until Egwene returned.

  “Yes,” Lelaine mused, “I should think it’s time to put an end to your servitude to Bryne. I shall pay off your debt, Siuan.”

  “Pay off my debt?” Siuan said, feeling a moment of panic. “Is that wise? Not that I wouldn’t mind being free of that man, of course, but my position offers me quite useful opportunities for listening in on his plans.”

  “Plans?” Lelaine asked, frowning.

  Siuan cringed inwardly. The last thing she wanted was to imply wrongdoing on Bryne’s part. Light, the man was strict enough to make Warders look sloppy in keeping their oaths.

  She should just let Lelaine end this foolish servitude, but the thought made her stomach churn. Bryne was already disappointed that she’d broken her oath to him months before. Well, she hadn’t broken that oath—she’d just postponed her period of service. But try convincing the stubborn fool of that fact!

  If she took the easy way out now, what would he think of her? He’d think that he’d won, that she’d proven herself unable to keep her word. There was no way she’d let that happen.

  Besides, she wasn’t about to let Lelaine be the one who freed her. That would just move her debt from Bryne to Lelaine. The Aes Sedai would collect it in far more subtle ways, but each coin would end up being paid one way or another, if only through demands of loyalty.

  “Lelaine,” Siuan said softly, “I don’t suspect the good general of anything. However, he controls our armies. Can he really be trusted to do as required without any supervision?”

  Lelaine sniffed. “I’m not certain any man can be trusted without direction.”

  “I hate doing his laundry,” Siuan said. Well, she did. Even if she wouldn’t be stopped from doing it for all of the gold in Tar Valon. “But if the duty keeps me close, with a listening ear. . . .”

  “Yes,” Lelaine said, nodding slowly. “Yes, I see that you are right. I will not forget your sacrifice, Siuan. Very well, you are dismissed.”

  Lelaine turned, glancing down at her hand, as if longing for something. Probably wishing for the day when—as Amyrlin—she could offer her Great Serpent ring for a kiss when she parted ways with another sister. Light, but Egwene needed to return soon. Buttered silverpike! Buttered, flaming silverpike!

  Siuan made her way toward the edge of the Aes Sedai camp. Bryne’s army surrounded the Aes Sedai camp in a large ring, but she was on the far side of the ring from Bryne. It would take a good half-hour to walk to his command post. Fortunately, she found a wagon driver who was taking a load of supplies, brought through a gateway, to the army. The short, grizzled man immediately agreed to let her ride with the turnips, though he did seem puzzled why she didn’t go get a horse, as befitted an Aes Sedai’s station. Well, it wasn’t that far, and riding with vegetables was a fate far less undignified than being forced to jounce around on the back of a horse. If Gareth Bryne wanted to complain about her tardiness, then he’d get an earful, he would!

  She settled back against a lumpy sack of turnips, brown-skirted legs hanging over the back of the wagon. As the cart rolled up a slight incline, she could see over the Aes Sedai camp—with its white tents and citylike organization. Ringed around it was the army, with smaller tents in neat straight lines, and ringed around them was a growing ring of camp followers.

  Beyond it all, the landscape was brown, the winter snows melted, but spring sprouts scarce. The countryside was pocketed with thickets of scrub oak; shadows in valleys and twisting lines of chimney smoke pointed to distant villages. It was surprising how familiar, how welcome, these grasslands felt. When she had first come to the White Tower, she’d been sure she’d never come to love this landlocked countryside.

  Now she had lived much more of her life in Tar Valon than she had in Tear. It was difficult at times to recall that girl who had sewn nets and gone on early-morning trawling trips with her father. She’d become something else, a woman who traded in secrets rather than fish.

  Secrets, those powerful, dominating secrets. They had become her life. No love save for youthful dalliances. No time for entanglements, or much room for friendships. She’d focused on only one thing: finding the Dragon Reborn. Helping him, guiding him, hopefully controlling him.

  Moiraine had died following that same quest, but at least she had been able to go out and see the world. Siuan had grown old—in spirit, if not in body—cooped up in the Tower, pulling her strings and nudging the world. She’d done some good. Time would tell if those efforts had been enough.

  She didn’t regret her life. Yet, at this moment, passing army tents—holes and broken ruts in the path shaking the cart, making it rattle like dried fishbones in a kettle—she envied Moiraine. How often had Siuan bothered to look out of her window toward the beautiful green landscape, before it all had started going sickly? She and Moiraine had fought so hard to save this world, but they had left themselves without anything to enjoy in it.

  Perhaps Siuan had made a mistake in staying with the Blue, unlike Leane, who had taken the opportunity in their stilling and Healing to change to the Green Ajah. No, Siuan thought, wagon rattling, smelling of bitter turnips. No, I’m still focused on saving this blasted world. There would be no switching to the Green for her. Though, thinking of Bryne, she did wish that the Blue were a little more like the Green in certain ways.

  Siuan the Amyrlin hadn’t had any time for entanglements, but what of Siuan the attendant? Guiding people with quiet manipulations required a lot more skill than bullying them with the power of the Amyrlin Seat, and it was proving more fulfilling. But it also left her without the crushing weight of responsibility she’d felt during her years leading the White Tower. Was there, perhaps, room in her life for a few more changes?

  The wagon reached the far side of the army camp, and she shook her head at her own foolishness as she hopped down, then nodded her thanks to the wagon driver. Was she a girl, barely old enough for her first full-day blackfish trawl? There was no use in thinking of Bryne that way. At least not right now. There was too much to do.

  She walked along the perimeter of the camp, army tents to her left. It was growing dark, and lanterns burning precious oil illuminated disorganized shanties and tents to her right. Ahead of her, a small circular palisade rose on the army side. It didn’t enclose the entire army—in fact, it was only big enough for several dozen officer tents and some larger command tents. It was to act as a fortification in an emergency, but always as a center of operations—Bryne felt it good to have a physical barrier separating the larger camp from the place where he held conference with his officers. With the confusion of the civilian camp, and with such a long border to patrol, it would be too easy for spies to approach his tents otherwise.

  The palisade was only about three-quarters done, but work was progressing quickly. Perhaps he would choose to surround the entire army, eventually, if the siege continued long enough. For now, Bryne felt that the small, fortified command post would not only suggest security to the soldiers, but also lend them a sense of authority.

  The eight-foot wooden stakes rose from the ground ahead, a line of sentinels standing side by side, points raised to the sky. While holding a siege one generally had a lot of manpower for wor
k like this. The guards at the palisade gate knew to let her pass, and she quickly made her way to Bryne’s tent. She did have washing to do, but most of it would probably have to wait until the morning. She was supposed to meet Egwene in Tel’aran’rhiod as soon as it grew dark, and the glow of the sunset was already beginning to fade.

  Bryne’s tent, as usual, shone with only a very faint light. While people outside squandered their oil, he scrimped. Most of his men lived better than he did. Fool man. Siuan pushed her way into the tent without calling. If he was foolish enough to change without going behind the screen, then he was foolish enough to be seen doing it.

  He was seated at his desk working by the light of a solitary candle. He appeared to be reading scout reports.

  Siuan sniffed, letting the tent flaps droop closed behind her. Not a single lamp! That man! “You will ruin your eyes reading by such poor light, Gareth Bryne.”

  “I have read by the light of a single candle for most of my life, Siuan,” he said, turning over a page and not looking up. “And I’ll have you know that my eyesight is the same as it was when I was a boy.”

  “Oh?” Siuan said. “So you’re saying that your eyesight was poor to begin with?”

  Bryne grinned, but continued his reading. Siuan sniffed again, loudly, to make sure he heard. Then she wove a globe of light and sent it hovering over beside his desk. Fool man. She wouldn’t have him going so blind he fell in battle to an attack he didn’t see. After setting the light beside his head—perhaps too close for him to be comfortable with it without scooting over—she walked over to pluck clothing off the drying line she’d strung across the center of the tent. He’d voiced no complaint about her using the inside of his tent for drying laundry, and hadn’t taken it down. That was a disappointment. She’d been anticipating chastising him for that.

  “A woman from the camp outside approached me today,” Bryne said, shifting his chair to the side, then picking up another stack of pages. “She offered me laundry service. She’s organizing a group of washwomen in the camp, and she claimed that she could do my wash more quickly and effectively than a single distracted maidservant could.”