The Fires of Heaven twot-5

by Robert Jordan

  Her eyes kept trying to drift shut as she read, fuzzily half-dreaming the stories in the book. She could be as strong as any of these women, as strong and brave as Dunsinin or Nerein or Melisinde or even Birgitte, as strong as Aviendha. Would Nynaeve have sense enough to hold her tongue in front of Amys tonight? She had a vague thought of taking Nynaeve by the scruff of the neck and shaking her. Silly. Nynaeve was years the older. Arch an eyebrow at her. Dunsinin. Birgitte. As hardy and strong as a Maiden of the Spear.

  Her head slipped down to the pages, and she tried to cradle the small book under her cheek as her breathing slowed and deepened.

  She gave a start at finding herself among the great redstone columns of the Heart of the Stone, in the strange light of Tel'aran'rhiod, and another at realizing that she wore the cadin'sor. Amys would not be pleased to see her in that; not amused at all. Hastily she changed it, and was surprised when her clothes flickered back and forth between the algode blouse and bulky wool skirt and a fine gown of brocaded blue silk before finally settling on the Aiel garb, complete with her ivory bracelet of flames and her gold-and-ivory necklace. That indecision had not happened to her in some time.

  For a moment she thought of stepping out of the World of Dreams, but she suspected she was soundly asleep, back in her tent. Very likely she would only step into a dream of her own, and she did not yet always have awareness in her dreams; without that, she could not return to Tel'aran'rhiod. She was not about to leave Amys and Nynaeve alone together. Who knew what Nynaeve would say, if Amys got her temper up? When the Wise One arrived, she would simply say that she had just arrived herself. The Wise Ones had always been a bit ahead of her, or arrived at the same time, before this, but surely if Amys believed she had only been there a second it would not matter.

  She had almost grown accustomed to the feel of unseen eyes in this vast chamber. Only the columns, and the shadows, and all this empty space. Still, she hoped that Amys was not too long in coming, nor Nynaeve. But they would be. Time could be as strange in Tel'aran'rhiod as in any dream, but it had to be a good hour yet before the arranged meeting. Perhaps she had time to…

  Suddenly she realized that she could hear voices, like faint whispers among the columns. Embracing saidar, she moved cautiously toward the sound, toward the place where Rand had left Callandor beneath the great dome. The Wise Ones claimed that control of Tel'aran'rhiod was as strong as the One Power here, but she knew her abilities with the Power far better, and trusted them more. Still hidden well back among the thick redstone columns, she stopped and stared.

  It was not a pair of Black sisters, as she had feared, and not Nynaeve, either. Instead, Elayne stood near the glittering shaft of Callandor rising out of the floorstone, deep in quiet conversation with as oddly dressed a woman as Egwene had ever seen. She wore a short white coat of peculiar cut and wide yellow trousers gathered in folds at her ankles, above short boots with raised heels. An intricate braid of golden hair hung down her back, and she held a bow that gleamed like polished silver. The arrows in the quiver shone, too.

  Egwene squeezed her eyes shut. First the difficulty with her dress, and now this. Just because she had been reading about Birgitte — a silver bow told the name for certain — was no reason to imagine that she saw her. Birgitte waited — somewhere — for the Horn of Valere to call her and the other heroes to the Last Battle. But when Egwene opened her eyes again, Elayne and the oddly dressed woman were still there. She could not quite make out what they were saying, but she believed her eyes this time. She was on the point of going out to announce herself when a voice spoke, behind her.

  "Did you decide to come early? Alone?"

  Egwene whirled to face Amys, her sun-darkened face too youthful for her white hair, and leathery-cheeked Bair. Both stood with their arms folded beneath their breasts; even the way their shawls were pulled tight spoke of displeasure.

  "I fell asleep," Egwene said. It was too much before time for her story to work. Even as she explained hastily about dozing off and why she had not gone back — minus the part about not wanting Nynaeve and Amys to talk alone — she was surprised to feel a tinge of shame that she had intended to lie and relief that she had not. Not that the truth would necessarily save her. Amys was not as strict as Bair — not quite — but she was perfectly capable of setting her to piling up rocks the rest of the night. Many of the Wise Ones were great believers in useless labor for punishment; you could not tell yourself you were doing anything other than being punished while you were burying ashes with a spoon. That was provided they did not simply refuse to teach her any more, of course. The ashes would be much preferable.

  She could not hold back a sigh of relief when Amys nodded and said, "It can happen. But next time, return and dream your own dreams; I could have heard what Nynaeve has to say, and tell her what we know. If Melaine was not with Bael and Dorindha tonight, she would be here, as well. You frightened Bair. She is proud of your progress, and if anything happened to you…"

  Bair did not look proud. If anything, she scowled even more deeply, as Amys paused. "You are lucky Cowinde found you when she returned to clear away your supper, and was worried when she could not rouse you to move to your blankets. If I thought you had been here more than a few minutes alone…" The glare sharpened in dire promise for a moment, and then her voice turned grumpy. "Now I suppose we have to wait for Nynaeve to arrive, just to stop you begging if we send you back. If we must, we must, but we will use the time to advantage. Concentrate your mind on —"

  "It isn't Nynaeve," Egwene said hastily. She did not want to know what a lesson would be like with Bair in this mood. "It is Elayne, and…" She trailed off, as she turned. Elayne, in elegant green silk suitable for a ball, was pacing up and down not far from Callandor. Birgitte was nowhere to be seen. I did not imagine her.

  "She is here already?" Amys said, moving to where she could see, too.

  "Another young fool," Bair muttered. "Girls today have no more brains or discipline than goats." She stalked out ahead of Egwene and Amys and planted herself across Callandor's glittering shape from Elayne, fists on hips. "You are not my pupil, Elayne of Andor — though you've wheedled enough out of us to keep you from killing yourself here, if you are careful — but if you were, I would welt you from your toes up and send you back to your mother until you were grown enough to be let out of her sight. Which I think might take as many more years as you have lived already. I know you have been coming into the World of Dreams alone, you and Nynaeve. You are both fools to do it."

  Elayne gave a start when they first appeared, but as Bair's tirade washed over her, she drew herself up, that chilly tilt to her chin. Her gown became red and took on a finer sheen, and grew embroidery down the sleeves and across the high bodice, including rearing lions in white and golden lilies, her own sigil. A thin golden diadem rested in her red-gold curls, a single rearing lion set in moonstones above her brows. She did not yet have the best control over such things. Then again, maybe she wore exactly what she intended this time. "I do thank you for your concern," she said regally. "Yet it is true that I am not your pupil, Bair of the Haido Shaarad. I am grateful for your instruction, but I must go my own way, on the tasks given me by the Amyrlin Seat."

  "A dead woman," Bair said coldly. "You claim obedience to a dead woman." Egwene could all but feel Bair's hackles standing erect in anger; if she did not do something, Bair might decide to teach Elayne a painful lesson. The last thing they needed was that sort of squabble.

  "What… why are you here instead of Nynaeve?" She had been going to ask what Elayne was doing there, but that would have given Bair an opening, and maybe sounded as if she were on the Wise One's side. What she wanted to ask was what Elayne had been doing talking to Birgitte. I did not imagine it. Maybe it had been someone dreaming she was Birgitte. But only those who entered Tel'aran'rhiod knowingly remained for more than minutes, and Elayne surely would not have been speaking with one of them. Where did Birgitte and the others wait?

  "Nynaeve i
s nursing a sore head." The diadem vanished, and Elayne's gown became simpler, with only a few golden scrolls around the bodice.

  "Is she ill?" Egwene asked anxiously.

  "Only with a headache, and a bruise or two." Elayne giggled and winced at the same time. "Oh, Egwene, you would not have believed it. All four of the Chavanas had come to have supper with us. To flirt with Nynaeve, really. They tried flirting with me the first few days, but Thom had a talk with them, and they stopped. He did not have any right to do that. Not that I wanted them to flirt, you understand. Anyway, there they were, flirting with Nynaeve — or trying to, because she paid them no more mind than buzzing flies — when Latelle stalked up and began hitting Nynaeve with a stick, calling her all sorts of terrible names."

  "Was she hurt?" Egwene was not sure which of them she meant. If Nynaeve's temper was roused…

  "Not her… The Chavanas tried to pull her off Latelle, and Taeric will likely limp for days, not to mention Burgh's swollen lip. Petra had to carry Latelle to her wagon, and I doubt she'll put her nose out for some time." Elayne shook her head. "Luca did not know who to blame — one of his acrobats lamed and his bear trainer weeping on her bed — so he blamed everybody, and I thought Nynaeve was going to box his ears as well. At least she did not channel; I thought she was going to once or twice, until she had Latelle down on the ground."

  Amys and Bair exchanged unreadable glances; this certainly was not how they expected Aes Sedai to behave.

  Egwene felt a little confused herself, but it was mainly over keeping up with all these people she had only heard of briefly before. Odd people, traveling with lions, dogs and bears. And an Illuminator. She did not believe this Petra could possibly be as strong as Elayne claimed. But then, Thom was eating fire as well as juggling, and what Elayne and Juilin were doing sounded as strange, even if she was using the Power.

  If Nynaeve had come close to channeling… Elayne must have seen the glow of her embracing saidar. Whether they had a real reason to be hiding or not, they would not remain hidden long if one of them channeled and let people see it. The Tower's eyes-and-ears would certainly hear; that sort of news traveled quickly, especially if they were not out of Amadicia yet.

  "You tell Nynaeve from me that she had best hold her temper, or I'll have some words to say to her that she will not like." Elayne looked startled — Nynaeve had certainly not told her what had passed between them — and Egwene added, "If she channels, you can be sure Elaida will hear of it as soon as a pigeon can fly to Tar Valon." She could not say more; as it was, it brought another exchange of glances between Amys and Bair. What they really thought of a Tower divided, and an Amyrlin who as far as they knew had given orders for Aes Sedai to be drugged, they had never let on. They could make Moiraine look like the village gossip when they wished. "In fact, I wish I had both of you alone. If we were in the Tower, in our old rooms, I'd say a few words to the pair of you."

  Elayne stiffened, as queenly and cool as she had been with Bair. "You may say them to me whenever you wish."

  Had she understood? Alone; away from the Wise Ones. In the Tower. Egwene could only hope. Best to change the subject and hope the Wise Ones were not picking over her words as carefully as she hoped that Elayne was. "Will this fight with Latelle cause problems?" What had Nynaeve been thinking of? Back home, she would have had any woman her age who did the same up before the Women's Circle so fast that her eyes would pop. "You must be almost to Ghealdan by now."

  "Three more days, Luca says, if we are lucky. The menagerie does not move very fast."

  "Perhaps you should leave them, now."

  "Perhaps," Elayne said slowly. "I really would like to highwalk just once in front of…" With a shake of her head, she glanced at Callandor; the neckline of her gown dipped precipitously, then, rose again. "I do not know, Egwene. We could not travel much faster alone than we are traveling, and we don't know where to go exactly, yet." That meant Nynaeve had not remembered where the Blues were gathering. If Elaida's report had been right. "Not to mention that Nynaeve might burst if we had to abandon the wagon and buy saddle horses, or another coach. Besides, we are both learning a great deal about the Seanchan. Cerandin served as a s'redit handler at the Court of the Nine Moons, where the Seanchan Empress sits. Yesterday she showed us things that she took when she fled Falme. Egwene, she had an a'dam."

  Egwene stepped forward, her skirts brushing Callandor. Rand's traps were not physical, whatever Nynaeve seemed to think. "Can you be sure she was not a sul'dam?" Her voice trembled with anger.

  "I am certain," Elayne said soothingly. "I put the a'dam on her myself, and it had no effect."

  That was a little secret that the Seanchan themselves did not know, or hid well if they did. Their damane were women born with the spark, women who would channel eventually even if untaught. But the sul'dam, who controlled the damane — they were the women who needed to be taught. The Seanchan thought that women who could channel were dangerous animals who had to be controlled, and yet unknowingly gave many of them honored positions.

  "I do not understand this interest in the Seanchan." Amys said the name awkwardly; she had never heard it until Elayne spoke it at their last meeting. "What they do is terrible, but they are gone. Rand al'Thor defeated them, and they fled."

  Egwene turned her back and stared at the huge polished columns running off into shadow. "Gone is not to say they will never come back." She did not want them to see her face, not even Elayne. "We must know whatever we can learn, in case they ever return." They had put an a'dam on her in Falme. They had meant to send her over the Aryth Ocean to Seanchan, to spend the rest of her life as a dog on a leash. Fury welled up in her every time she thought of them. And fear, too. The fear that if they did return, they would succeed in taking and holding her this time. That was what she could not allow them to see. The stark terror that she knew was in her eyes.

  Elayne put a hand on her arm. "We will be ready for them if they do come back," she said gently. "They will not find us in surprise and ignorance again." Egwene patted her hand, though she wanted to clutch it; Elayne understood more than Egwene wished, yet it was comforting that she did.

  "Let us finish what we are here for," Bair said briskly. "You need to be asleep in truth, Egwene."

  "We had the gai'shain undress you, and put you in your blankets." Surprisingly, Amys sounded as gentle as Elayne. "When you return to your body, you can sleep until morning."

  Egwene's cheeks colored: Given Aiel ways, it was as likely as not that some of those gai'shain had been men. She would have to speak to them about that — delicately, of course; they would not understand, and it was not a thing she could be comfortable explaining.

  The fear was gone, she realized. Apparently I'm more afraid of being embarrassed than I am of the Seanchan. It was not true, but she held to the thought.

  There was really little to tell Elayne. That they were in Cairhien finally, that Couladin had devastated Selean and ravaged the surrounding land, that the Shaido were still days ahead and moving west. The Wise Ones knew more than she; they had not taken to their tents straightaway. There had been skirmishes in the evening, small ones and only a few, with mounted men who quickly fled, and other men on horses who had been sighted ran without fighting. There had been no prisoners taken. Moiraine and Lan seemed to think that the riders could have been bandits, or supporters of one or another of the Houses trying to claim the Sun Throne. All had been equally ragged. Whoever they were, word would soon spread that there were more Aiel in Cairhien.

  "They had to learn sooner or later" was Elayne's only comment.

  Egwene watched Elayne as she and the Wise Ones faded away — to her it seemed as though Elayne and the Heart of the Stone became more and more attenuated — but her golden-haired friend gave no sign as to whether she had understood the message.

  Chapter 25

  (Dream Ring)

  Dreams of Galad

  Instead of returning to her own body, Egwene floated in darkness. She seemed to
be darkness herself, without substance. Whether her body lay up or down or sideways from her, she did not know — there was no direction here — but she knew that it was near, that she could step into it easily. All around her in the blackness, fireflies seemingly twinkled, a vast horde fading away into unimaginable distance. Those were dreams, dreams of the Aiel in the camp, dreams of men and women across Cairhien, across the world, all glittering there.

  She could pick out some among the nearer and name the dreamer, now. In one way those sparkles were just as alike as fireflies — that was what had given her so much trouble in the beginning — but in another, somehow, they now seemed as individual as faces. Rand's dreams, and Moiraine's, appeared muted, dimmed by the wards they had woven. Amys' and Bair's were bright and regular in their pulsing; they had taken their own advice, apparently. Had she not seen those, she would have been into her body in an instant. Those two could rove this darkness much more ably than she; she would not have known they were there until they pounced on her. If she ever learned to recognize Elayne and Nynaeve in the same way, she would be able to find them in that great constellation wherever they were in the world. But tonight she did not mean to observe anyone's dream.

  Carefully she formed a well-remembered image in her mind, and she was back in Tel'aran'rhiod, inside the small, windowless room in the Tower where she had lived as a novice. A narrow bed was built against one white-painted wall. A washstand and a three-legged stool stood opposite the door, and the current occupant's dresses and shifts of white wool hung with a white cloak on pegs. There could as easily have been none; the Tower had not been able to fill the novices' quarters in many years. The floor was almost as pale as walls and clothes. Every day the novice who lived there would scrub that floor on hands and knees; Egwene had done so herself, and Elayne, in the next room. If a queen came to train in the Tower, she would start in a room like this, scrubbing the floor.