Pelivar turned from taking a fresh cup of wine from a tray and started back, with a muffled oath, to keep from bumping into her; had she stood any closer, she would have had to stand on his boots. Hot wine splashed over his gloved hand and ran down under his coatsleeve, producing a curse not so muted. Tall enough to loom over her, he made a good job of it. His scowl belonged on a man wanting to send an annoying young woman briskly out of his way. Or on a man who had nearly stepped on a red adder. She held herself erect and focused on an image of him as a small boy up to no good; that always helped; most men seemed to feel it. He muttered something—it might have been a polite greeting, or another oath—and dipped his head slightly, then tried to step around her. She side-stepped to stay in front of him. He moved back, and she followed. He began to look hunted. She decided to try putting him at ease before pressing the important question. She wanted answers, not more mumbling.
“You must be pleased to hear that the Daughter-Heir is on her way to Caemlyn, Lord Pelivar.” She had heard several of the Sitters mention that.
His face went blank. “Elayne Trakand has a right to put in her claim to the Lion Throne,” he replied in a flat voice.
Egwene’s eyes widened, and he stepped back again, uncertainly. Perhaps he thought her angry over the absence of her title, but she barely noticed that. Pelivar had supported Elayne’s mother in her claim for the throne, and Elayne had been sure he would support her, too. She spoke of Pelivar fondly, like a favorite uncle.
“Mother,” Siuan murmured at her elbow, “we must leave if you want to be sure of reaching the camp before sunset.” She managed to put considerable urgency into those quiet words. The sun had passed its peak.
“This is no weather to be in the open at nightfall,” Pelivar said hurriedly. “If you will excuse me, I must make ready to leave.” Shoving his cup onto the tray of a passing servant, he hesitated before halfway making a leg, and stalked off with the air of a man who had wriggled free of a trap.
Egwene wanted to grind her teeth with frustration. What did the men think of their agreement? If it could be called that, the way she had forced it on them. Arathelle and Aemlyn had more power and influence than most of the men, yet it was Pelivar and Culhan and the like who rode with the soldiers; they could still make this flare up in her face like a barrel of lamp oil.
“Find Sheriam,” she growled, “and tell her to get everyone mounted now, no matter what it takes!” She could not give the Sitters a night to think about what had happened today, to plan and plot. They had to be back in camp before the sun went down.
CHAPTER
19
The Law
Getting the Sitters to their mounts proved no bother; they were as eager to be away as Egwene, especially Romanda and Lelaine, both cold as the wind and with eyes like thunderclouds. The rest were the very image of cool-eyed Aes Sedai serenity, giving off composure like a heavy scent, yet they glided to their horses so quickly that the nobles were left gaping and the brightly clad servants scrambled in loading the packhorses to catch up as best they could.
Egwene had Daishar set a hard pace in the snow, and with no more than a look and a nod from her Lord Bryne made sure the armored escorts moved as fast. Siuan on Bela and Sheriam on Wing rushed to join her. For long stretches they churned through fetlock-deep cover, the horses stepping high at near to a trot, the Flame of Tar Valon rippling in the icy breeze, and even when it was necessary to slow, when the horses were sinking knee-deep through the snow crust, they kept to a fast walk.
The Sitters had no choice except to keep up, and their speed cut down their opportunity to talk on the way. At that tiring pace, a lack of attention to your horse could bring a broken leg for the animal and a broken neck for you. Even so, Romanda and Lelaine each managed to gather her coterie around her, and those two knots floundered through the snow surrounded by wards against eavesdropping. The pair seemed to be delivering tirades. Egwene could imagine the topic. For that matter, other Sitters managed to ride together for a time, exchanging a few words quietly and casting cool glances sometimes at her and sometimes at the sisters wrapped around by saidar. Only Delana never joined one of those brief conversations. She stayed close beside Halima, who at last admitted that she was cold. Face tight, the country woman held her cloak close around her, but she still tried to comfort Delana, whispering to her almost constantly. Delana seemed to need comforting; her brows were drawn down, putting a crease in her forehead that actually made her seem aged.
She was not the only one worried. The others masked the feeling rigidly, radiating absolute poise, but the Warders rode like men expecting the worst to leap out of the snow at the next step, eyes shifting in an unceasing watch, disquieting cloaks streaming in the wind to leave hands free. When an Aes Sedai worried, her Warder worried, and the Sitters were too absorbed to think of calming the men. Egwene was just as glad to see it. If the Sitters were troubled, they had not yet made up their minds.
When Bryne rode out to confer with Uno, she took the opportunity to ask what the two women had learned about Aes Sedai and Tower Guards in Andor.
“Not much,” Siuan replied in a tight voice. Shaggy Bela did not seem to be having any difficulty with the pace, but Siuan did, gripping her reins tightly in one hand and the pommel of her saddle with the other. “As near as I can make out, there are fifty rumors and no facts. It’s a likely sort of tale to spring up, but it might still be true.” Bela lurched, her front hooves sinking deep, and Siuan gasped. “The Light burn all horses!”
Sheriam had learned no more. She shook her head, and sighed irritably. “It sounds all feathers and nonsense to me, Mother. There are always rumors of sisters sneaking about. Didn’t you ever learn to ride, Siuan?” she added, her voice suddenly dripping derision. “By tonight, you’ll be too sore to walk!” Sheriam’s nerves must have been ragged for her to burst out so openly. From the way she kept shifting in her saddle, she had already achieved her prediction for Siuan.
Siuan’s eyes hardened, and she opened her mouth already half snarling, never mind who was watching from behind the banner.
“Be still, both of you!” Egwene snapped. She took a deep, calming breath. She was a bit ragged herself. Whatever Arathelle believed, any force Elaida sent to interfere with them would be too large for sneaking. That left the Black Tower, a disaster in the making. You got further plucking the chicken in front of you than trying to start on one up a tree. Especially when the tree was in another country and there might not even be another chicken.
Still, she bit off her words in giving Sheriam instructions for once they reached the camp. She was the Amyrlin Seat, and that meant all Aes Sedai were her responsibility, even those following Elaida. Her voice was rock steady, though. It was too late to be frightened once you grabbed the wolf by the ears.
Sheriam’s tilted eyes went wide at the orders. “Mother, if I may ask, why … ?” She trailed off under Egwene’s level gaze, and swallowed. “It will be as you say, Mother,” she said slowly. “Strange. I remember the day you and Nynaeve came to the Tower, two girls who couldn’t decide whether to be excited or frightened. So much has changed since then. Everything.”
“Nothing stays the same forever,” Egwene told her. She gave Siuan a significant look, but Siuan refused to see. She appeared to be sulking. Sheriam looked sick.
Lord Bryne returned then, and he must have sensed the mood among them. Aside from saying that they were making good time, he kept his mouth shut. A wise man.
Making good time or not, the sun was sitting almost on the treetops when they finally rode through the army’s sprawling camp. Wagons and tents cast long shadows across the snow, and a number of men were hard at work building yet more low shelters out of brush. There were not nearly enough tents, even for all the soldiers, and the camp held almost as many harnessmakers and laundresses and fletchers and the like, all those who inevitably followed any army. The ringing of anvils spoke of farriers and armorers and blacksmiths still at their labors. Cook fires were b
urning everywhere, and the cavalry peeled away, eager for warmth and hot food as soon as their wearily plodding animals were cared for. Surprisingly, Bryne rode on at Egwene’s side after she dismissed him.
“If you will allow, Mother,” he said, “I thought I might accompany you a while longer.” Sheriam actually twisted in her saddle to stare in astonishment. Siuan stared, too, straight ahead, as if not daring to turn her suddenly wide eyes toward him.
What did he think he could do? Act as her bodyguard? Against sisters? That fellow with the drippy nose would do as well. Reveal just how completely he was on her side? Tomorrow was time enough for that, if all went well tonight; that revelation now might easily stampede the Hall in directions she hardly dared contemplate.
“Tonight is for Aes Sedai business,” she told him firmly. But, silly as the suggestion was, he had offered to put himself at risk for her. There was no telling his reasons—who knew why a man did anything?—yet she owed him for that. Among other things. “Unless I send Siuan to you tonight, Lord Bryne, you should leave before morning. If blame for today attaches itself to me, it might reflect on you, too. Staying could prove dangerous. Even fatal. I don’t think they would need much excuse.” No need to name who “they” were.
“I gave my word,” he replied quietly, patting Traveler’s neck. “To Tar Valon.” Pausing, he glanced toward Siuan. It was less a hesitation than a consideration. “Whatever tonight’s business is,” he said finally, “remember that you have thirty thousand men and Gareth Bryne behind you. That should count for something, even among Aes Sedai. Until tomorrow, Mother.” Reining his big-nosed bay around, he called over his shoulder, “I expect to see you tomorrow, too, Siuan. Nothing changes that.” Siuan stared at his back as he rode away. There was anguish in her eyes.
Egwene could not help staring, too. He had never been so open before, not nearly. Why now, of all times?
Crossing the forty or fifty paces that separated the army’s camp from the Aes Sedai’s, she nodded to Sheriam, who drew rein at the first tents. She and Siuan rode on. Behind them, Sheriam’s voice rose, surprisingly clear and steady. “The Amyrlin Seat calls the Hall to sit this day in formal session. Let preparations be made with all speed.” Egwene did not look back.
At her tent, a bony groom kicking her layered woolen skirts came running to take Daishar and Bela. Her face was pinched, and she barely ducked her head before hurrying away with the horses as quickly as she had come. The warmth of the glowing braziers inside was like a fist closing down. Egwene had not realized how cold it was outside until then. Or how cold she was.
Chesa took her cloak, and exclaimed when she felt her hands. “Why, you’re ice to the bone, Mother.” Chattering away, she bustled around folding Egwene’s cloak and Siuan’s, smoothing the neatly turned-down blankets on Egwene’s cot, touching a tray set on one of the chests that had been pulled down from the stack. “I’d jump right into bed, with hot bricks all around, if I was that chilled. As soon as I’d eaten, anyway. Warm outside does only so much good without warm inside. I’ll fetch a few extra bricks to tuck under your feet while you sup. And for Siuan Sedai, of course. Oh, if I was as hungry as you must be, I know I’d be tempted to gulp my food, but that always gives me pains in the stomach.” Pausing by the tray, she eyed Egwene, and nodded with satisfaction when she said that she would not eat too fast.
Making a sober answer was not easy. Chesa was always refreshing, but after today, Egwene almost laughed with pleasure. There were no complications to Chesa. Two white bowls of lentil stew stood on the tray, along with a tall pitcher of spiced wine, two silver cups, and two large rolls. Somehow, the woman had known Siuan would be eating with her. Steam rose from the bowls and pitcher. How often had Chesa had to change that tray to make sure warm food greeted Egwene straightaway? Simple and uncomplicated. And as caring as a mother. Or a friend.
“I must forgo bed for now, Chesa. I’ve work yet tonight. Would you leave us?”
Siuan shook her head as the tentflap fell behind the plump woman. “Are you sure she hasn’t been in your service since you were a babe?” she muttered.
Taking one of the bowls, a roll, and a spoon, Egwene settled into her chair with a sigh. She also embraced the Source and warded the tent against listeners. Unfortunately, saidar made her all that much more aware of half-frozen hands and feet. The bits in between were not much warmer. The bowl seemed almost too warm to handle, and the roll, as well. Oh, how she would have loved to have those hot bricks.
“Is there anything more we can do?” she asked, and promptly gulped down a spoonful of stew. She was ravenous, and no wonder, with nothing since breakfast and that early. Lentils and woody carrots tasted like her mother’s finest cooking. “I can’t think of anything, but can you?”
“What can be done, has been. There isn’t anything else, short of the Creator putting a hand in.” Siuan took the other bowl and dropped onto the low stool, but then she sat staring into her stew and stirring it with her spoon. “You wouldn’t really tell him, would you?” she said finally. “I couldn’t bear if he knew.”
“Why on earth not?”
“He’d take advantage,” Siuan said darkly. “Oh, not that. I don’t think that.” She was quite prudish in some areas. “But the man would make my life the Pit of Doom!” And washing his smallclothes and polishing his boots and his saddle every day was not?
Egwene sighed. How could such a sensible, intelligent, capable woman turn into a scatterbrain over this one subject? Like a hissing viper, an image rose in her head. Herself, sitting on Gawyn’s knee playing kissing games. In a tavern! She shoved it away, hard. “Siuan, I need your experience. I need your brain. I can’t afford to have you half-witted because of Lord Bryne. If you can’t pull yourself together, I’ll pay him what you owe, and forbid you to see him. I will.”
“I said I’d work off the debt,” Siuan said stubbornly. “I have as much honor as Lord Gareth bloody Bryne! As much and more! He keeps his word, and I keep mine! Besides, Min told me I have to stay close to him or we’ll both die. Or something like that.” A pinkness in her cheeks gave her away, though. Her honor and Min’s viewing notwithstanding, she was simply willing to put up with anything to be near the man!
“Very well. You’re besotted, and if I tell you to stay away from him, you’ll either disobey or mope and wrap the rest of your brains in a cloud. What are you going to do about him?”
Scowling indignantly, Siuan went on for some little time, growling what she would like to do about Gareth bloody Bryne. He would have enjoyed none of it. Some, he might not have survived.
“Siuan,” Egwene said warningly. “You deny one more time what’s plain as your nose, and I’ll tell him and give him the money.”
Siuan pouted sullenly. She pouted! Sullenly! Siuan! “I don’t have time to be in love. I barely have time to think, between working for you and him. And even if everything goes right tonight, I’ll have twice as much to do. Besides… .” Her face fell, and she shifted on the stool. “What if he doesn’t … return my feelings?” she muttered. “He’s never even tried to kiss me. All he cares about is whether his shirts are clean.”
Egwene scraped her spoon through her bowl, and was surprised when it came up empty. Nothing remained of the roll but a few crumbs on her dress. Light, her middle still felt hollow. She eyed Siuan’s bowl hopefully; the woman seemed to have little interest in anything but drawing circles in the lentils.
A sudden thought occurred to her. Why had Lord Bryne insisted that Siuan work off her debt even after learning who she was? Just because she had said she would? It was a preposterous arrangement. Except that it did keep her close to him when nothing else would have. For that matter, she herself had often wondered why Bryne had agreed to build the army. He had to have known there was a very good chance he was laying his head on the chopping block. And why he had offered that army to her, a girl Amyrlin with no real authority and not a friend among the sisters except Siuan, as far as he knew? Could the answer to all of thos
e questions be as simple as … he loved Siuan? No; most men were frivolous and flighty, but that was truly preposterous! Still, she offered the suggestion, if only to amuse Siuan. It might cheer her a little.
Siuan snorted in disbelief. It sounded odd, coming from that pretty face, but no one could put quite so much expression into a snort as she did. “He’s not a total idiot,” she said dryly. “In fact, he has a good head on his shoulders. He thinks like a woman, most of the time.”
“I still haven’t heard you say you’ll straighten up, Siuan,” Egwene persisted. “You have to, one way or another.”
“Well, of course I will. I don’t know what’s been the matter with me. It isn’t as if I never kissed a man before.” Her eyes narrowed suddenly, as if she expected Egwene to challenge her on that. “I haven’t spent my whole life in the Tower. This is ridiculous! Chattering about men, tonight of all nights!” Peering into her bowl, she seemed to realize for the first time that it held food. She filled her spoon, gesturing with it at Egwene. “You have to be careful of your timing, more now than ever. If Romanda or Lelaine grabs the tiller, you’ll never get your hands on it.”
Ridiculous or not, something certainly had restored Siuan’s appetite. She went through her stew faster than Egwene had hers, and not a crumb of the roll escaped her. Egwene found that she had drawn her fingers through her own empty bowl. There was nothing for it then but to lick off the last few lentils, of course.
Discussing what was to happen tonight served no real point. They had honed and refined what Egwene was to say, and when, so many times that she was surprised she had not dreamed of it. She certainly could have done her part in her sleep. Siuan insisted anyway, skirting very near the point where Egwene would have to call her down, going over it again and again, bringing up possibilities they had discussed before a hundred times. Strangely, Siuan had found herself a very good mood. She even essayed a little humor, unusual for her of late, though some was on the gallows side.
The Path of Daggers Page 42
