The Gathering Storm

by Brandon Sanderson

Page 96

  She nodded to Triben, and he dug out the keys and opened the cell doors. The first cell was empty; the second one held a disheveled woman, still wearing a fine Domani dress, though it was soiled. Lady Chadmar was dirty and ragged and she curled against the wall, drowsy, barely even noticing that the door was open. Nynaeve caught a whiff of a stench that, up until that moment, had been covered by the scent of rotting fish. Human excrement and an unwashed body. Likely, that was one reason for locating the dungeon here in the Gulls Feast.

  Nynaeve inhaled sharply at seeing how the woman was being treated. How could Rand allow this? The woman herself had done this very thing to others, but that didnt make it right for him to stoop to her level.

  She waved for Triben to close the door; then she sat down on one of the rooms stools, regarding the three jailers. Behind, Lurts guarded the way out, keeping an eye on the poor apprentice. The overweight jailer still hung in the air.

  She needed information. She could have asked Rand for permission to visit the jail in the morning, but in doing so, she would have risked alerting these men that they were going to be visited. She was depending on surprise and intimidation to reveal what had been hidden.

  "Now," she said to the three, "I am going to ask some questions. You are going to answer. Im not certain what Im going to do with you yet, so realize its best to be very honest with me. "

  The two on the ground looked up at the other man, floating in the invisible weaves of Air. They nodded.

  "The man who was brought to you," she said. "The messenger of the King. When did he first arrive?"

  "Two months ago," one of the toughs said—the one with the large chin and the broken nose. "Arrived in a sack with the candle nubs from Lady Chadmars mansion, just like all the prisoners. "

  "Your instructions?"

  "Hold him," the other tough said. "Keep him alive. We didnt know much, er, Lady Aes Sedai. Jorgin is the one who does all the questioning. "

  She looked up at the fat man. "Youre Jorgin?"

  He nodded reluctantly.

  "And what were your instructions?"

  Jorgin didnt respond.

  Nynaeve sighed. "Look," she said to him. "I am Aes Sedai, and am bound by my word. If you tell me what I want to know, I will see that you are not suspected in the death. The Dragon doesnt care about you three, otherwise you wouldnt still be here in charge of this little . . . stopover of yours. "

  "If we talk, we go free?" the fat man said, eyeing her. "Your word?"

  Nynaeve glanced about the tiny room with a dissatisfied eye. They had left Lady Chadmar in the dark, and the door was packed with cloth to muffle screams. The cell would be dark, stuffy and cramped. Men who would work a place like this barely deserved life, let alone freedom.

  But there was a much larger sickness to deal with. "Yes," Nynaeve said, the word bitter in her mouth. "And you know thats better than you deserve. "

  Jorgin hesitated, then nodded. "Let me down, Aes Sedai, and Ill answer your questions. "

  She did so. The man might not know it, but she had very little authority to stand on; she wouldnt resort to his methods of extracting answers, and she was acting without Rands knowledge. The Dragon probably wouldnt react well when he discovered that shed been prying—not unless she could present him with discoveries.

  Jorgin said to the broken-nosed thug, "Mord, fetch me a stool. " Mord glanced at Nynaeve for approval, which she gave with a curt nod. As Jorgin settled his bulk onto the stool, he leaned forward, hands clasped before him. He resembled a hulking beetle tipped up on its side. "I dont see what you need from me," the man said. "You seem to know everything already. You know about my facility and about the people it has held. What more is there to know?"

  Facility? Some word for it. "That is my own business," Nynaeve said, giving him a stare which she hoped implied that the concerns of the Aes Sedai were not to be questioned. "Tell me, how did the messenger die?" "Without dignity," Jorgin replied. "Like all men, in my experience. " "Give me specifics, or youll go back to hanging in the air. " "I opened the cell door a few days back to feed him. He was dead. " "How long had it been since youd fed him, then?" Jorgin snorted. "I dont starve my guests, Lady Aes Sedai. I just . . . encourage them to be free with what they know. "

  "And how much encouragement did you give the messenger?" "Not enough to kill him," the jailer said defensively. "Oh, come now," Nynaeve said. "The man remained for months in your possession, presumably healthy all that time. Then, the day before he is to be brought before the Dragon Reborn, he suddenly dies? You already have my promise of amnesty. Tell me who bribed you to kill him and Ill see that youre protected. "

  The jailer shook his head. "It wasnt like that. Im telling you, he just died. It happens sometimes. " "I tire of your games. "

  "Its not a game, burn you!" Jorgin snarled. "You think a man could get far in my profession if it were known that hed accept a bribe to kill one of his guests? You couldnt trust him any further than you could a lying Aiel!"

  She let that last comment slide, though a man like this one could never be "trusted. "

  "Look," Jorgin said, "that wasnt the type of prisoner you kill, anyway. Everybody wants to know where the King is. Whod kill the only one with information about it? That man was worth good money. "

  "So hes not dead," Nynaeve surmised. "Who did you sell him to?"

  "Oh, hes dead," the jailer said with a chuckle. "If I had sold him, I wouldnt have lived long afterward. You learn that sort of thing quickly, doing what I do. "

  She turned to the other two thugs. "Is he lying?" he asked of them. "A hundred gold marks to the one of you who can give me proof that he is. "

  Mord glanced at his boss, then grimaced. "For a hundred in gold, Id sell you my own mother, Lady. Burn me, but I would. Jorgins telling the truth, though. That body was good and dead. The Dragons men checked when they brought the lady to us. "

  So Rand had considered that possibility. But she still had no proof that these men were telling her the truth. If there was something to hide, theyd work hard to bury it deep. She decided to try a different path.

  "What did you discover, then," she said, "about the Kings location?"

  Jorgin just sighed. "Like I told the Lord Dragons men, and like I told Lady Chadmar before she landed here in the dungeons herself. That man knew something, but he wouldnt speak it. "

  "Come now," Nynaeve said, shooting a glance at the chest with its sharp equipment. She had to look away again before it angered her. "A man of your . . . skill? And you couldnt pry one simple fact out of him?"

  "Dark One take me if Im lying!" The jailers face flushed as if this were a matter of pride for him. "Ive never seen a man resist like that one did! A pretty feather of a man like him should have broken without much encouragement at all. But he didnt. He would speak on anything other than the things we wanted!" Jorgin leaned forward. "I dont know how he did it, Lady. Burn me, but I dont! Its like some . . . force had ahold of his tongue. It was like he couldnt talk. Even if hed wanted to!"

  The two thugs muttered to themselves, looking apprehensive. It seemed that Nynaeves questioning had hit a nerve.

  "So you pushed him too hard," Nynaeve guessed. "And thats how he died. "

  "Take it all, woman!" the jailer growled. "Blood and bloody ashes! I didnt kill him! Sometimes, people just die. "

  Unfortunately, she was coming to believe him. Jorgin was a wretch of a man who could use a decade doing chores beneath the eyes of a Wisdom. But he wasnt lying.

  So much for her grand plans. She sighed, standing up, realizing just how tired she really was. Light! This scheme was more likely to make Rand explode at her than persuade him to listen to her counsel. She needed to return to the mansion for some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow shed be able to think up a better way to show Rand that she was on his side.

  She waved for the guards to take the jailer and
his men back up above. After that, she wove Air to shut the cell door on Milisair Chad-mar. Nynaeve would see that the womans conditions were improved. Despicable human being or not, she should not be treated this way. Rand would have to understand that when she explained it to him. Why, Milisair looked so pale she might be coming down with the shakes! Absently, Nynaeve walked to the viewing slit at the top of the cell door, then wove a Delving of Spirit to make certain the woman was not ill.

  As soon as she began the Delving, Nynaeve froze. She had expected to find Milisairs body taxed by exhaustion. She had expected to find disease, perhaps hunger.

  She had not expected to find poison.

  Cursing, suddenly alert, Nynaeve threw open the cell door and rushed inside. Yes, she could see it easily through the Delving. Tarchrot leaf. Nynaeve herself had given that to a hound who had needed to be put down. It was a common enough plant, and had a very bitter flavor. Not the best poison, as it had such an unpleasant taste, and yet had to be ingested.

  Yes, it was a bad poison—unless the person you were poisoning was already captive and had no choice but to eat the food you gave her. Nynaeve began a Healing, weaving all five Powers, strangling the poison and strengthening Milisairs body. It was a relatively easy Healing, as tarchrot leaf wasnt particularly strong. You either had to use a lot of it— as she had with the hound—or you had to administer it several times for it to take effect. But if you did it slowly like that, the person you killed with it would seem to die naturally.

  Once Milisair was safe, Nynaeve burst from the cell. "Stop!" she bellowed at the men. "Jorgin!"

  Lurts, at the back, turned with surprise. He grabbed the jailer Jorgin by the arm and spun him around.

  "Who prepares the prisoners food?" Nynaeve demanded, stalking toward him.

  "The food?" Jorgin asked, looking confused. "Thats one of Kerbs jobs. Why?"

  "Kerb?"

  "The lad," Jorgin said. "Nobody important. An apprentice we found among the refugees a few months back. Quite a lucky find—our last apprentice ran off on us, and this one was already trained in—"

  Nynaeve hushed him with a raised hand, suddenly anxious. "The boy! Where is he?"

  "He was just here . . . " Lurts said, glancing up. "Went with—"

  There was a sudden scrambling from above. Nynaeve cursed, calling for Triben to catch the boy. She shoved her way to the ladder and began climbing. She darted out into the shop above, her glowing light following. The two thugs stood cowering in the center room, looking confused, and a Saldaean guard stood with a sword pulled on them. He looked at her questioningly.

  "The boy!" she said.

  Triben glanced toward the shop door. It was open. Preparing weaves of Air, Nynaeve dashed out onto the street.

  There, she found the boy, Kerb, in the muddy street, held down by the four dice-playing workers shed brought from the mansion. Even as she stepped off the boardwalk onto the street, they pulled the struggling, frantic boy to his feet. The last Saldaean stood at the doorway, sword out, as if hed been rushing in to see if she was in danger.