Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11)

Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11) Page 204

“There,” Maighdin said, pointing east along the street. A long length of red cloth fluttered in the breeze where she pointed. It was tied to a house that seemed ready to fall in. Walking to it slowly, they rested their baskets on the paving stones. The red cloth fluttered again.

“Why would she want to meet us here?” Alliandre muttered. “That could cave in if anybody sneezed.” She rubbed at her nose as though the word had given her the urge.

“It is quite sound. I inspected it.” Galina’s voice behind them jerked Faile’s head around. The woman was striding toward them, plainly from one of the sound buildings on the north side of the street. After so long seeing her in that belt and collar of gold and firedrops, she looked odd without them. She still wore her white silk robes, but the absence of the jewelry was convincing. Galina had not somehow managed to turn truth on its head. She was leaving today.

“Why not in one of the sound buildings?” Faile demanded. “Or right here?”

“Because I don’t want anyone to see it in my hands,” Galina said, walking past her. “Because no one will look inside that ruin. Because I say so.” She stepped through what had been a doorway, ducking under a heavy, charred roof beam that slanted across the opening, and immediately turned to her right and began descending stairs. “Don’t dawdle.”

Faile exchanged looks with the other women. This was more than passing strange.

“If she’ll get us out of here,” Alliandre growled, snatching up her basket, “I’m willing to hand her the thing in a privy.” Still, she waited on Faile to pick up her own basket and lead the way.

Charred timbers and blackened boards hung low over the stone stairs that led downward, but Galina’s ease at entering reassured Faile. The woman would not risk being buried alive or crushed at the very moment she finally gained the rod. Bars and beams of light filtering through gaps in the wreckage gave enough illumination to show that the basement was quite clear despite the treacherous nature of what lay above. Large barrels stacked along one stone wall, most scorched and with staves sprung from the heat, said this had been an inn or a tavern. Or perhaps a wine merchant’s shop. The area around Maiden had produced a great deal of mediocre wine.

Galina stood in the middle of the grit-covered stone floor, in a small beam of light. Her face was all Aes Sedai calm, her agitation of the previous day completely subdued. “Where is it?” she said coolly. “Give it to me.”

Faile set her basket down and shoved her hand deep inside. When she brought out the white rod, Galina’s hands twitched. Faile extended the rod toward her, and she reached for it almost hesitantly. If she had not known better, Faile would have said she was afraid to touch it. Galina’s fingers closed around the rod, and she exhaled heavily. She jerked the rod away before Faile could release it. The Aes Sedai seemed to be trembling, but her smile was . . . triumphant.

“How do you intend to get us away from the camp?” Faile asked. “Should we change our clothes now?”

Galina opened her mouth, then suddenly raised her free hand, palm out. Her head tilted toward the stairs as if listening. “It may be nothing,” she said softly, “but it’s best if I check. Wait here and be quiet. Be quiet,” she hissed when Faile started to speak. Lifting the hem of her silk robes, the Aes Sedai scurried to the stairs and started up like a woman uneasy about what she might find at the top. Her feet passed out of sight behind the sagging boards and beams.

“Did any of you hear anything?” Faile whispered. They all shook their heads. “Maybe she’s holding the Power. I’ve heard that can—“

“She wasn’t,” Maighdin interrupted. “I’ve never seen her embracing—“

Suddenly, wood groaned overhead, and with a thunderous crash charred beams and boards collapsed, sending out blinding billows of black dust and grit that sent Faile into paroxysms of coughing. The smell of charring suddenly was as thick in the air as it had been the day Maiden burned. Something falling from above hit her shoulder hard, and she crouched, trying to protect her head. Someone cried out. She heard other falling objects hit the basement’s stone floor, boards or pieces of boards. Nothing made a loud enough noise to be a roof beam or a heavy joist.

Eventually—it seemed like hours; it might have been minutes— the rain of debris stopped. The dust began to thin. Quickly she looked around for her companions, and found them all huddling on the floor with their arms around their heads. There seemed to be more light than before. A little more. Some of the gaps overhead were wider, now. A trickle of blood ran down Alliandre’s face from her scalp. Everyone was dusted with black from head to foot.

“Is anyone injured?” Faile asked, finishing with a cough. The dust had not cleared completely, and her throat and tongue felt coated with it. The stuff tasted like charcoal.

“No,” Alliandre said, touching her scalp gingerly. “A scrape, that’s all.” The others denied injury as well, though Arrela seemed to be moving her right arm carefully. No doubt they had all suffered bruises, and Faile thought her left shoulder was going to be black and blue shortly, but she would not count that a real injury.

Then her eyes fell on the stairs, and she wanted to weep. Wreckage from above filled the whole space where the staircase had been. They might have been able to squeeze through some of the gaps overhead. Faile thought she could reach them standing on Arrela’s shoulders, but she doubted she could pull herself through with one good arm. Or that Arrela could. And if either managed, she would be in the middle of a burned-out ruin and likely as not to make the rest of the thing fall in, too.

“No!” Alliandre moaned. “Not now! Not when we were so close!” Rising, she rushed as near to the rubble as she could get, almost pressing against it, and began to shout. “Galina! Help us! We’re trapped! Channel and lift the boards away! Clear a path for us to get out! Galina! Galina! Galina!” She sagged against the tangle of timbers, shoulders shaking. “Galina,” she wept. “Galina, help us.”

“Galina’s gone,” Faile said bitterly. The woman would have answered if she was still above or had any intention of aiding them. “With us trapped down here, maybe dead, she has the perfect excuse for leaving us behind. Anyway, I don’t know whether an Aes Sedai could move some of those timbers if she tried.” She did not want to mention the possibility that Galina had arranged that excuse herself. Light, she should never have slapped the woman. It was too late for s