Melaine held up a finger. “But it is important—vital, even—that each Wise One be willing to defend her own well. If she believes that she is right, she cannot let herself be shoved aside, even by other Wise Ones, no matter how aged or wise.”
“No woman is ready to join us until she has declared herself ready,” Amys continued. “She must present herself as our equal.”
“A punishment is not a true punishment unless you accept it, Aviendha,” Bair said, still smiling. “We thought you ready weeks ago, but you stubbornly continued to obey.”
“Almost, I began to think you prideful, girl,” Melaine added with a fond smile.
“Girl no longer,” Amys said.
“Oh, she’s still a girl,” Bair said. “Until one more thing is done.”
Aviendha felt dazed. They’d said she wasn’t learning quickly enough. Learning to stand up for herself! Aviendha had never allowed others to push her around, but these weren’t “others”—they were Wise Ones, and she the apprentice. What would have happened if Min hadn’t riled her? She would have to thank the woman, although Min didn’t realize what she’d done.
Until one more thing is done . . . “What must I still do?” Aviendha asked.
“Rhuidean,” Bair said.
Of course. A Wise One visited that most sacred city twice in her life. Once when she became an apprentice, once when she became a full Wise One.
“Things will be different, now,” Melaine said. “Rhuidean is no longer what it once was.”
“That is no reason to abandon the old ways,” Bair replied. “The city may be open, but nobody will be foolish enough to walk through the pillars. Aviendha, you must—”
“Bair,” Amys cut in, “if it is well with you, I would prefer to tell her.”
Bair hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, of course. It is only right. We turn our backs on you now, Aviendha. We will not see you again until you return to us as a sister returning from a long journey.”
“A sister we had forgotten that we knew,” Melaine said, smiling. The two turned from her, then Amys began to walk toward the Traveling ground. Aviendha hurried to catch up.
“You may wear your clothing this time,” Amys said, “as it is the mark of your station. Normally, I would suggest that you travel to the city by foot, even though we know of Traveling now, but I think that custom is best bent in this case. Still, you should not Travel directly to the city. I suggest Traveling to Cold Rocks Hold and walk from there. You must spend time in the Three-fold Land to contemplate your journey.”
Aviendha nodded. “I will need a waterskin and supplies there.”
“Ready and waiting for you at the hold,” Amys said. “We’ve been expecting you to leap this chasm soon. You should have leapt it days ago, considering all the hints we gave you.” She eyed Aviendha, who glanced down at the ground.
“You have no reason for shame,” Amys said. “That burden is upon us. Despite Bair’s joking, you did well. Some women spend months and months being punished before deciding that they have had enough. We had to be hard on you, child—harder than I’ve ever seen a ready apprentice treated. There is just so little time!”
“I understand,” Aviendha said. “And . . . thank you.”
Amys snorted. “You forced us to be very creative. Remember this time you spent and the shame you felt, for it is the shame any da’tsang will know, should you consign them to their fate. And they cannot escape it simply by demanding release.”
“What do you do if an apprentice declares herself ready to be a Wise One during her first few months of training?”
“Strap her a few times and set her digging holes, I suspect,” Amys said. “I don’t know of that ever happening. The closest was Sevanna.”
Aviendha had wondered why the Wise Ones had accepted the Shaido woman without complaint. Her declaration had been enough: and so Amys and the others had been forced to accept her.
Amys pulled her shawl close. “There is a bundle for you with the Maidens guarding the Traveling ground. Once you reach Rhuidean, travel to the center of the city. You will find the pillars of glass. Pass through the center of them, then return here. Spend well your days running to the city. We pushed you hard so that you would have this time for contemplation. It is likely the last you will have for some while.”
Aviendha nodded. “The battle comes.”
“Yes. Return quickly once you pass through the pillars. We will need to discuss how to best handle the Car’a’carn. He has . . . changed since last night.”
“I understand,” Aviendha said, taking a deep breath.
“Go,” Amys said, “and return.” She put emphasis on the final word. Some women did not survive Rhuidean.
Aviendha met Amys’ eyes, and nodded. Amys had been a second mother to her in many ways. She was rewarded by a rare smile. Then Amys turned her back to Aviendha, just as the other two had.
Aviendha took another deep breath, glancing back across the trampled grass before the manor house to where Rand spoke with the quartermasters, his expression stern, the arm missing a hand held folded behind his back, the other arm gesturing animatedly. She smiled at him, though he wasn’t looking in her direction.
I will be back for you, she thought.
Then she trotted to the Traveling ground, collected the pack and wove a gateway that would deposit her a safe distance from Cold Rocks Hold, beside a rock formation known as the Maiden’s Spear, from which she could run to the hold and prepare herself. The gateway opened to the familiar, dry air of the Waste.
She ducked through the gateway, exulting—finally—in what had just happened.
Her honor had returned.
“I came out through a small watergate, Aes Sedai,” Shemerin said, bowing her head before the others in the tent. “In truth, it wasn’t so difficult, once I left the Tower and got into the city. I didn’t dare leave by one of the bridges. I couldn’t let the Amyrlin know what I was doing.”
Romanda watched, arms folded. Her tent was lit by two brass lamps, flames dancing at the tips. Six women listened to the runaway’s story. Lelaine was there, for all that Romanda had tried to keep her from hearing about the meeting. Romanda had hoped that the slender Blue would be too busy basking in her status in camp to bother with such a seemingly trivial event.
Beside her was Siuan. The former Amyrlin had latched herself on to Lelaine with the strength of a barnacle. Romanda was well enough pleased with the newfound ability to Heal a stilling—she was Yellow after all—but a part of her wished it hadn’t happened to Siuan. As if Lelaine weren’t bad enough to deal with. Romanda had not forgotten Siuan’s crafty nature, even if so many others in camp seemed to have done so. Lesser strength in the Power did not mean decreased capacity for scheming.
Sheriam was there, of course. The red-haired Keeper sat beside Lelaine. Sheriam had been withdrawn lately, and barely maintained the dignity of an Aes Sedai. Foolish woman. She needed to be removed from her place; everyone could see that. If Egwene ever returned—and Romanda prayed that she did, if only because it would upset Lelaine’s plans—then there would be an opportunity. A new Keeper.
The other person in the tent was Magla. Romanda and Lelaine had argued—with control, of course—over who would be first to interrogate Shemerin. They’d decided that the only fair way was to do it together. Because Shemerin was Yellow, Romanda had been able to call the meeting in her own tent. It had been a shock when Lelaine had shown up with not just Siuan but Sheriam in tow. But they’d never said how many attendants they could bring. And so Romanda was left with only Magla. The thick-shouldered woman sat beside Romanda, listening quietly to the confession. Should Romanda have sent for someone else? It would have looked very obvious, delaying the meeting for that.
It wasn’t really an interrogation, however. Shemerin spoke freely, without resisting questions. She sat on a small stool before them. She’d refused a cushion for it. Romanda had rarely seen a woman as determined to punish herself as this poor child.
N
ot a child, Romanda thought. A full Aes Sedai, whatever she says. Burn you, Elaida, for turning one of us into this!
Shemerin had been Yellow. Burn it, she was Yellow. She’d been talking to them for the better part of an hour now, answering questions about the status of the White Tower. Siuan had been the first to ask how the woman had come to escape.
“Please forgive me for seeking work in the camp without coming to you, Aes Sedai,” Shemerin said, head bowed. “But I have fled the Tower against the law. As an Accepted leaving without permission, I am a runaway. I knew I would be punished if discovered.
“I have stayed in this area because it is so familiar, and I cannot let it go. When your army came, I saw a chance for work, and I took it. But please, do not force me to go back. I will not be a danger. I will seek a life as a normal woman, careful not to use my abilities.”
“You are Aes Sedai,” Romanda said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. This woman’s attitude lent much credence to the things Egwene said about Elaida’s power-hungry reign in the Tower. “No matter what Elaida says.”
“I. . . .” Shemerin just shook her head. Light! She never had been the most poised of Aes Sedai, but it was shocking to see her fallen so far.
“Tell me about this watergate,” Siuan said, leaning forward in her chair. “Where could we find it?”
“On the southwestern side of the city, Aes Sedai,” Shemerin said. “About five minutes’ walk eastward from where the ancient statues of Eleyan al’Landerin and her Warders stand.” She hesitated, suddenly seeming anxious. “But it is a small gate. You couldn’t take an army through it. I only know of it because I had the duty of caring for the beggars who live there.”
“I want a map anyway,” Siuan said, then she glanced at Lelaine. “At least, I think we should have one.”
“It is a wise idea,” Lelaine said in a nauseatingly magnanimous tone.
“I do want to know more of your . . . situation,” Magla said. “How is it Elaida could think that demoting a sister was wise? Egwene did speak of this event, and I did find it incredible then, too. What was Elaida’s thought?”
“I . . . cannot speak for the Amyrlin’s thought,” Shemerin said. She cringed as the women in the room gave her a set of not-so-subtle glares at calling Elaida the Amyrlin. Romanda didn’t join in. Something small was creeping beneath the canvas floor of the tent, moving from one corner toward the center of the room. Light! Was that a mouse? No, it was too small. Perhaps a cricket. She shifted uncomfortably.
“But surely you did do something to earn her ire,” Magla said. “Something worthy of such treatment?”
“I. . . .” Shemerin said. She kept glancing at Siuan for some reason.
Fool woman. Romanda almost thought Elaida had made the right move. Shemerin should never have been given the shawl. Of course, demoting her to Accepted was no way to handle the situation either. The Amyrlin couldn’t be given that much power.
Yes, that was definitely something under the canvas, determinedly pushing its way to the center of the tent, a tiny lump moving in jerks and starts.
“I was weak before her,” Shemerin finally said. “We were speaking of . . . events in the world. I could not stomach them. I did not show poise befitting an Aes Sedai.”
“That’s it?” Lelaine asked. “You didn’t plot against her? You didn’t contradict her?”
Shemerin shook her head. “I was loyal.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Lelaine said.
“I believe her,” Siuan said dryly. “Shemerin showed well enough she was in Elaida’s pocket on several occasions.”
“This do be a dangerous precedent,” Magla noted. “Burn my soul, but it do.”
“Yes,” Romanda agreed, watching the canvas-covered whatever-it-was inch along before her. “I suspect she used poor Shemerin as an example, acclimating the White Tower to the concept of demotion. That will let her use it on those who are actually her enemies.”
The conversation hit a lull. The Sitters who supported Egwene would likely head the list of those to be demoted, if Elaida retained her power and the Aes Sedai reconciled.
“Is that a mouse?” Siuan asked, looking down.
“It’s too small,” Romanda said. “And it’s not important.”
“Small?” Lelaine said, leaning down.
Romanda frowned, glancing at the spot again. It did seem to have grown larger. In fact—
The bump jerked suddenly, pushing upward. The canvas floor split, and a thick-bodied cockroach—as wide as a fig—scrambled through. Romanda pulled back in revulsion.
The roach skittered across the canvas, antennae twitching. Siuan took off her shoe to swat it. But the bottom of the tent bubbled up near the rip, and a second cockroach climbed through. Then a third. And then a wave of them, pouring through the split like too-hot tea sprayed from a mouth. A black and brown carpet of scrambling, scratching, scurrying creatures, pushing over one another in their hurry to get out.
The women screeched in revulsion, throwing back stools and chairs as they stood. Warders were in the room a moment later; broad-shouldered Rorik bonded to Magla, and that coppery-skinned stone of a man was Burin Shaeren, bonded to Lelaine. They had swords drawn at the screams, but the cockroaches seemed to stump them. They stood, staring at the stream of filthy insects.
Sheriam hopped up on her chair. Siuan channeled and began to squash the creatures closest to her. Romanda hated to use the One Power for death, even on such vile creatures, but she too found herself channeling Air and smashing the insects in swaths, but the creatures were pouring in too quickly. Soon the ground was swarming with them, and the Aes Sedai were forced to scramble out of the tent and into the quiet darkness of the camp. Rorik pulled the flaps shut, though that wouldn’t stop the insects from squeezing out.
Outside, Romanda couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers through her hair, just in case, to make certain none of the creatures had gotten into it. She shivered as she imagined the creatures scrambling over her body.
“Is there anything in the tent that is dear to you?” Lelaine asked, looking back at the tent. Through the lamplight, she could see the shadowy insects scurrying up the walls.
Romanda spared a thought for her journal, but knew that she’d never be able to touch those pages after her tent had been infested this way. “Nothing that I’d care to keep now,” she said, weaving Fire. “And nothing I can’t replace.”
The others joined her, and the tent burst into flames, Rorik jumping back as they channeled. Romanda thought she heard the insects popping and sizzling inside. The Aes Sedai moved back from the sudden heat. In moments, the entire tent was an inferno. Women rushed out of nearby tents to look.
“I do no think that was natural,” Magla said softly. “Those did be four-spine roaches. Sailors do see them on ships that visit Shara.”
“Well, it isn’t the worst we’ve seen from the Dark One,” Siuan said, folding her arms. “And we’ll see worse yet, mark my words.” She eyed Shemerin. “Come, I want that map from you.”
They left with Rorik and the others, who would alert the camp that the Dark One had touched it this night. Romanda stood watching the tent burn. Soon it was only smoldering coals.
Light, she thought. Egwene is right. It is coming. Fast. And the girl was imprisoned now; she’d met with the Hall the night before in the World of Dreams, informing them of her disastrous dinner with Elaida and the aftermath of insulting the false Amyrlin. And yet Egwene still refused rescue.
Torches were lit and Warders roused as a precaution against more evil. She smelled smoke. That was the remains of all she had owned in the world.
The Tower needed to be whole. Whatever it took. Would she be willing to bow before Elaida to make that happen? Would she put on an Accepted dress again if it would bring unity for the Last Battle?
She couldn’t decide. And that disturbed her nearly as much as those scuttling roaches had.
CHAPTER 27
The Tipsy Gelding
Mat didn’t escape the camp without the Aes Sedai, of course. Bloody women.
He rode down the ancient stone roadway, no longer followed by the Band. He was, however, accompanied by the three Aes Sedai, two Warders, five soldiers, Talmanes, a pack animal and Thom. At least Aludra, Amathera and Egeanin hadn’t insisted on coming. This group was too big as it was.
The three-needle pines guarded the road, smelling of pine sap, and the air was melodic with mountain finches’ calls. It was still several hours until sundown; he’d halted the Band near noon. He rode slightly ahead of the clustered Aes Sedai and Warders. After he’d refused Joline horses and funds, they hadn’t been about to let him win another point. Not when they could force him to take them down to the village, where they could spend at least one night in an inn with soft beds and warm baths.
He didn’t argue too loudly. He hated to have more tongues wagging about the Band, and women did gossip, even Aes Sedai. But there was little chance of the Band passing without causing a stir in the village anyway. If any Seanchan patrols made it through these twisting mountain paths. . . . Well, Mat would just have to keep the Band on a steady pace northward and that was that. No use crying about it.
Besides, he was beginning to feel right again, riding Pips down that road, spring breeze crisp in the air. He’d taken to wearing one of his older coats, red with brown trim, unbuttoned to show his old tan shirt beneath.
This was what it was about. Traveling to new villages, throwing dice in the inns, pinching a few barmaids. He would not think of Tuon. Flaming Seanchan. She’d be all right, wouldn’t she?
No. His hands almost itched to be at the dicing. It had been far too long since he’d sat down in a corner somewhere and thrown with the ordinary sort. They’d be a little dirtier of face and coarser of language, but as good of heart as any man. Better than most lords.
Talmanes rode just ahead. He’d probably wish for a nicer tavern than Mat, a place to join a game of cards rather than throwing dice. But they might not have much of a choice. The village was of decent size, probably worthy of being called a town, but was unlikely to have more than three or four inns. Their choices would be limited.
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