Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11)

Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11) Page 208

As the strings of spare horses began to pass him, on long leads held by mounted grooms, a Maiden appeared in the mist coming down the line of carts. Slowly she resolved into Sulin, shoufa around her neck to bare her short white hair and black veil hanging down onto her chest. A fresh slash across her left cheek would add another scar to her face unless she accepted Healing from one of the sisters. She might not. Maidens seemed to have odd attitudes about Wise Ones’ apprentices, or maybe it was just that these apprentices were Aes Sedai. They even saw Annoura as an apprentice, though she was not.

“The Shaido sentries to the north are dead, Perrin Aybara,” she said. “And the men who were going out to replace them. They danced well, for Shaido.”

“You took casualties?” he asked quietly.

“Elienda and Briain woke from the dream.” She might have been speaking of the weather rather than two deaths among women she knew. “We all must wake eventually. We had to carry Aviellin the last two miles. She will need Healing.” So. She would accept it.

“I’ll send one of the Aes Sedai with you,” he said, looking around in the fog. Aside from the line of horses passing him, he could see nothing. “As soon as I can find one.”

They found him almost as he spoke, Annoura and Masuri striding out of the fog leading their horses with Berelain and Masema, his shaven head glistening damply.

Even in the mist, there was no mistaking the rumpled nature of the man’s brown coat, or the crude darn on the shoulder. None of the gold his followers looted stuck to his hands. It all went to the poor. That was the only good that could be said of Masema. But then, a fair number of the poor that gold went to feed had been made poor by having their possessions stolen and their shops or farms burned by Masema’s people.

For some reason, Berelain was wearing the coronet of the First of Mayene this morning, the golden hawk in flight above her brow, though her riding dress and cloak were plain dark gray. Beneath her light, flowery perfume, her scent was patience and anxiety, as odd a combination as Perrin had ever smelled.

The six Wise Ones were with them, too, dark shawls draped over their arms, folded kerchiefs around their temples holding back their long hair. With all their necklaces and bracelets of gold and ivory, they made Berelain appear simply dressed for once.

Aram was one of their number as well, the wolfhead pommel of his sword rising above one red-striped shoulder, and the fog could not hide the absence of his habitual glower. The man gravitated toward Masema and seemed almost to bask in some light that Masema gave off. Perrin wondered whether he should have sent Aram with the carts. But if he had, he was sure Aram would have leaped off and sneaked back as soon as he was out of Perrin’s sight.

He explained Aviellin’s need to the two Aes Sedai, but to his surprise, when Masuri said she would come, fair-haired Edarra raised a hand that stopped the slim Brown in her tracks. Annoura shifted uncomfortably. She was no apprentice, and uneasy over Seonid and Masuri’s relationship with the Wise Ones. They tried to include her in it, and sometimes succeeded.

“Janina will see to it,” Edarra said. “She has more skill than you, Masuri Sokawa.”

Masuri’s mouth tightened, but she kept silent. The Wise Ones were quite capable of switching an apprentice for speaking up at the wrong time, even if she did happen to be an Aes Sedai. Sulin led Janina, a flaxen-haired woman who never seemed to be ruffled by anything, off into the fog, Janina striding as quickly as Sulin despite her bulky skirts. So the Wise Ones had learned Healing, had they? That might be useful later in the day; the Light send it was not needed often.

Watching the pair disappear into the murk, Masema grunted. The thick mist hid the ever-burning intensity of his deep-set eyes and obscured the triangular white scar on his cheek, but his scent was full in Perrin’s nose, hard and sharp as a freshly stropped razor yet twitching in a frenzy. That smell of madness sometimes made him think his nose must bleed from breathing it.

“Bad enough you use these blasphemous women who do what only the Lord Dragon, blessed be his name, may do,” Masema said, his voice full of the heat that the fog concealed in his eyes.

The colors spinning in Perrin’s head turned into a brief image of Rand and Min and a tall man in a black coat, an Asha’man, and he felt a shock right down to his boots. Rand’s left hand was gone! No matter. Whatever had happened, had happened. And today his business lay elsewhere.

“. . . but if they know Healing,” Masema continued, “it will be that much harder to kill the savages. A pity you won’t let the Seanchan leash all of them.” His sidelong glance at Annoura and Masuri said he included them, despite the fact both had visited him in secret more than once.

They regarded him with Aes Sedai calm, though Masuri’s slim hands moved once as if to smooth her brown skirts. She said she had changed her mind and now believed the man must be killed, so why was she meeting him? Why was Annoura? Why did Masema allow them? He more than hated Aes Sedai. Perhaps answers could be found now that Haviar and Nerion no longer needed protection.

Behind Masema, the Wise Ones stirred. Fire-haired Carelle, who looked as if she possessed a temper though she did not, actually stroked the hilt of her belt knife, and Nevarin, who could have given Nynaeve lessons in getting angry, gripped hers. Masema should have felt those eyes boring into his back, but his scent never shifted. Insane he might be, but never a coward.

“You wanted to speak to Lord Perrin, my Lord Prophet,” Berelain said gently, though Perrin could smell the strain of her smile.

Masema stared at her. “I am simply the Prophet of the Lord Dragon, not a lord. The Lord Dragon is the only lord, now. His coming has shattered all bonds and destroyed all titles. King and queens, lords and ladies, are but dust beneath his feet.”

Those whirling hues threatened again, but Perrin crushed them. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. There was no way to soften moments with Masema. The man was as hard as a good file. “You’re supposed to be with your men. You risked being seen by coming here, and you’ll risk it again going back. I don’t trust your people to hold for five minutes without you there to stiffen their spines. They’ll run as soon as they see the Shaido coming their way.”

“They are not my people, Aybara. They are the Lord Dragon’s people.” Light, being around Masema meant having to stomp on those colors every few minutes! “I left Nengar in charge. He has fought more battles than you have dreamed of. Including against the savages. I also gave the women orders to kill any man who tries to run and have let it be known that I will hunt down anyone who escapes the women. They will hold to th