Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11)

Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11) Page 113

“Your training has been in abeyance too long, Aviendha,” Nadere said firmly. “Go and change into proper clothing.”

“But I am learning so much from Elayne, Nadere. Weaves even you do not know. I think I can make it rain in the Three-fold Land! And just now we learned that I can—“

“Whatever you may have learned,” Nadere cut in sharply, “it seems you have forgotten as much. Such as the fact that you are an apprentice still. The Power is the least of what a Wise One must know, else only those who can channel would be Wise Ones. Now go and change, and count your luck that I do not make you return in your skin to face a strapping. The tents are being struck as we speak, and if the clan’s departure is delayed, you will face the strap.”

Without another word, Aviendha dropped Elayne’s hand and ran from the room, bumping into Naris, who staggered and almost dropped the large, cloth-covered tray she was carrying. At a quick gesture from Essande, Sephanie hurried after Aviendha. Naris’ eyes went wide at the sight of the Aiel women, but Essande admonished her for taking so long and directed her to lay out the meal on the table, setting the young maid into hurried motion while muttering apologies under her breath.

Elayne wanted to run after Aviendha, too, to grasp every moment with her, but Nadere’s words held her. “You’re leaving Caemlyn, Dorindha? Where are you going?” As much as Elayne liked the Aiel, she did not want them wandering about the countryside. With the situation as unstable as it was, they were problem enough simply venturing out of their camp to hunt or trade.

“We are leaving Andor, Elayne. In a few hours, we will be far beyond your borders. As to where, you must ask the Car’a’carn.”

Nadere had walked over to study what Naris was laying out, and Naris began to tremble so that she nearly dropped more than one dish. “This looks good, but I do not recognize some of these herbs,” the Wise One said. “Your midwife has approved all of this, Elayne?”

“I’ll summon a midwife when my time is near, Nadere. Dorindha, you can’t think Rand would want your destination kept from me. What did he say?”

Dorindha gave a small shrug. “He sent a messenger, one of the black coats, with a letter for Bael. Bael let me read it, of course”—her tone said there had never been any question of her not reading it— “but the Car’a’carn asked Bael not to tell anyone, so I cannot tell you.”

“No midwife?” Nadere said incredulously. “Who tells you what to eat and drink? Who gives you the proper herbs? Stop looking daggers at me, woman. Melaine’s temper is worse than yours could ever be, but she has sense enough to let Monaelle govern her in these things.”

“Every woman in the palace governs what I eat,” Elayne replied bitterly. “Sometimes I think every woman in Caemlyn does. Dorindha, can’t you at least—“

“My Lady, your food is getting cold,” Essande said mildly, but with just the touch of firmness that an elderly retainer was allowed.

Gritting her teeth. Elayne glided to the chair Essande stood behind. She did not flounce, much as she wanted to. She glided. Essande produced an ivory-backed hairbrush and, removing the towel from Elayne’s head, began brushing her hair while she ate. She ate largely because not eating only meant someone would be told to fetch more hot food, because Essande and her own bodyguards between them might well keep her there until she did, but except for some dried apple that had not gone bad, the meal was decidedly unappetizing. The bread was crusty but flecked with weevils, and the soaked dried beans, since all of the preserved beans had spoiled, were tough and tasteless. The apple was mixed in a bowl of herbs—sliced burdock root, black haw, cramp bark, dandelion, nettle leaf—with a touch of oil, and for meat she had a piece of kid simmered in bland broth. With next to no salt, as far as she could tell. She would have killed for salty beef dripping with fat! Aviendha’s plate had sliced beef, though it looked tough. She could as well ask for wine. To drink, she had her choice of water or goat’s milk. She wanted tea almost as much as she did fatty meat, but even the weakest tea sent her running to make water, and she had quite enough difficulties with that as it was. So she ate methodically, mechanically, trying to think of anything but the tastes in her mouth. Except for the apple, at least.

She tried to pry some news of Rand out of the two Aiel women, but it seemed they knew less than she. As far as they would admit, anyway. They could be closemouthed when they wanted to be. She at least knew that he was somewhere far to the southeast. Somewhere in Tear, she suspected, though he could as easily have been on the Plains of Maredo or in the Spine of the World. Beyond that, she knew he was alive and not a whit more. She tried keeping the conversation on Rand in the hope they might let something slip, yet she might as well have tried dressing bricks with her fingers. Dorindha and Nadere had their own goal, convincing her to acquire a midwife right away. They went on and on about how she might be endangering herself and her babes, and not even Min’s viewing would dissuade them.

“Very well,” she said at last, slapping down her knife and fork. “I will start looking for one today.” And if she failed to find one, well, they would never know.

“I have a niece who’s a midwife, my Lady,” Essande said. “Melfane dispenses herbs and ointments from a shop on Candle Street in the New City, and I believe she is quite knowledgeable.” She patted a few last curls into place and stepped back with a pleased smile. “You do so remind me of your mother, my Lady.”

Elayne sighed. It seemed she was to have a midwife whether she wanted one or not. Someone else to see that her meals were wretched. Well, perhaps the midwife could suggest a remedy for those backaches at night, and the tender bosom. Thank the Light she had been spared the desire to sick up. Women who could channel never suffered that part of pregnancy.

When Aviendha returned, she was in Aiel garb again, with her still-damp shawl draped over her arms, a dark scarf tied around her temples to hold back her hair, and a bundle on her back. Unlike the multitudes of bracelets and necklaces Dorindha and Nadere wore, she had a single silver necklace, intricately worked discs in a complex pattern, and one ivory bracelet densely carved with roses and thorns. She handed Elayne the blunt dagger. “You must keep this, so you will be safe. I will try to visit you as often as I can.”

“There may be time for an occasional visit,” Nadere said severely, “but you have fallen behind and must work hard to catch up. Strange,” she mused, shaking her head, “to speak casually of visiting from so far. To cover leagues, hundreds of leagues, in a step. Strange things we have learn