Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11)

Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11) Page 202

”We will take care of Dairaine Saighan,” Chiad said at last. “But it means you must go into the town alone.”

Faile sighed, but there was no helping it. Perhaps Rolan was already awake. He could be watching her that minute. He always seemed to appear out of nowhere when she needed him. Surely he would not interfere with her leaving, not when he had promised to take her when he himself left. Yet he still had hopes, so long as she wore white. Him and his kissing games! He might want to keep her in gai’shain robes a little longer. When men wanted to help, they always thought their way was the only way.

Bain and Chiad ducked into the small peaked tent, and Alliandre and Maighdin came out. There really was not room inside for five. Maighdin went around the side of the tent and returned with a basket like those the other women had been carrying. Dirty gai’shain robes bulged out of the top of each, making them appear loads of laundry, but beneath were dresses that came near enough fitting, a hatchet, a sling, cords for making snares, flint and steel, packets of flour, meal, dried beans, salt and yeast, a few coins they had been able to find, everything they would need to make their way west to find Perrin. Galina would take them out of the camp, but there was no saying which direction her “Aes Sedai business” would take her then. They had to be self-reliant from the start. Faile would not put it past the Aes Sedai to abandon them as soon as she was able.

Maighdin stood over her basket with an air of determination, her jaw set and her eyes firm, but Alliandre’s face was wreathed in smiles.

“Try not to look so happy,” Faile told her. Wetlander gai’shain seldom smiled, and never so joyfully.

Alliandre tried to moderate her expression, but every time she smoothed her smiles away, they crept back. “We’re escaping today,” she said. “It’s hard not to smile.”

“You’ll stop if some Wise One sees you and decides to find out why you’re happy.”

“We’re hardly likely to meet a Wise One among the gai’shain tents or in Maiden,” the woman said through a smile. Determined or not, Maighdin nodded agreement.

Faile gave up. In truth, she felt a little giddy herself in spite of Dairaine. They were escaping today.

Bain came out of the tent, holding the tentflap for Chiad, who was carrying on her back a blanket-wrapped bundle just large enough to be a small woman doubled-up. Chiad was strong, but she had to lean forward a little to support the weight.

“Why is she so still?” Faile asked. She had no fear they had killed Dairaine. They were fierce about following the rules for gai’shain, and violence was forbidden. But that blanket could have been full of wood for all that it moved.

Bain spoke softly, an amused light in her eyes. “I stroked her hair and told her I would be very upset if I had to hurt her. Simple truth, considering how much toh even slapping her would cost me.”

Chiad chuckled. “I think Dairaine Saighan thought we were threatening her. I think she will be very quiet and very still until we let her go.” She shook with silent laughter.

Aiel humor was still a mystery to Faile. She knew they would be punished severely for this, though. Aiding an escape attempt was dealt with as harshly as trying to escape.

“You have all my gratitude,” she said, “you and Chiad both, now and forever. I have great toh.” She kissed Bain lightly on the cheek, which made the woman blush as red as her hair, of course. Aiel were almost prudishly restrained in public. In some ways.

Bain glanced at Chiad, and a faint smile appeared on her lips. “When you see Gaul, tell him Chiad is gai’shain to a man with strong hands, a man whose heart is fire. He will understand. I need to help her carry our burden to a safe place. May you always find water and shade, Faile Bashere.” She touched Faile’s cheek lightly with her fingertips. “One day, we will meet again.” Going over to Chiad, she took one end of the blanket, and they hurried away carrying it between them.

Gaul might understand, but Faile did not. Not the heart of fire, anyway, and she doubted that Manderic’s hands interested Chiad in the slightest. The man had bad breath and started getting drunk as soon as he woke unless he was going on a raid or hunting. But she put Gaul and Manderic out of her mind and shouldered her basket. They had wasted too much time already.

The sky was beginning to take on the appearance of actual daylight, and gai’shain were stirring among the wildly diverse tents of the camp close on Maiden’s walls, scurrying off to be about some chore or at least carrying something to give a semblance of working, but none paid any mind to three women in white carrying baskets of laundry toward the town’s gates. There always seemed to be laundry to be done, even for Sevanna’s gai’shain. There were far too many wetlander gai’shain for Faile to know everyone, and she saw no one she knew until they came on Arrela and Lacile, shifting from foot to foot with baskets on their shoulders.

Taller than most Aiel women and dark, Arrela kept her black hair cut as short as any Maiden and strode like a man when she walked. Lacile was short and pale and slim, and had red ribbons tied in her hair, which was not much longer. Her walk was graceful in robes, and had been a scandalous sway when she had worn breeches. Their sighs of relief were nearly identical, though. “We thought something had happened,” Arrela said.

“Nothing we couldn’t handle.” Faile told her.

“Where are Bain and Chiad?” Lacile asked anxiously.

“They have another task,” Faile said. “We go alone.”

They exchanged glances, and their sighs were far from relieved this time. Of course Rolan would not interfere. Not with them getting away. Of course not.

The iron-strapped gates of Maiden stood open, shoved back against the granite walls, as they had since the city fell. Rust had turned the broad iron straps brown, and the hinges were so rusty that pushing the gates shut again might be impossible. Pigeons nested in the gray stone towers flanking them, now.

They were the first to arrive. At least, Faile could see no one ahead of them down the street. As they walked through the gates, she retrieved her dagger from the pocket inside her sleeve and held it with the blade pressed against her wrist, pointing up her arm.

The other women made similar motions, if not so deftly. Without Bain and Chiad, and hoping that Rolan and his friends were otherwise occupied, they had to provide their own protection. Maiden was not as dangerous for a woman—for a gai’shain woman; Shaido who tried to prey on their own got short shrift—not as dangerous as the Shaido portion of the camp, yet women had been assaulted there, sometimes by groups of men. The Light send if they were accosted, it was only by one or two. One or two they might catch by surprise and kill before they realized these gai’shain had teeth. If there were more than two, they would do what they could, but an Aiel weaver or potter was as dangerous as most trained armsmen. Baskets or no baskets, they walked on their toes, heads swiveling, ready t