Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11)

Knife of Dreams (The Wheel of Time #11) Page 34

Only one of the other two Warders belonged to Myrelle, Avar Hachami, a Saldaean with a nose like an eagle’s beak and thick, gray-streaked mustaches. After sparing her one glance and a slight inclination of his head, he returned to watching the night. Morvrin’s Jori, short and bald and nearly as wide as he was tall, did not acknowledge her at all. His eyes studied the darkness, and his hand rested lightly on his long sword hilt. Supposedly he was among the best of the Warders with a blade. Where were the others? She could not ask, of course, any more than she could ask who was within. The men would have been shocked to their bones. None of them tried to stop her from entering. At least matters had not gotten that bad.

Inside, where two braziers gave off the scent of roses and made the air almost toasty compared to the night, she found almost everyone she had hoped for, and all watching to see who entered.

Myrelle herself, sitting on a sturdy straight-chair in a silk robe covered with red and yellow flowers, her arms folded beneath her breasts, wore such a perfect expression of calm on her olive face that it only pointed up the heat in her dark eyes. The light of the Power shone around her. It was her tent, after all; she would be the one to weave a ward here. Sheriam, seated on one end of Myrelle’s cot with a straight back, pretended to be adjusting her blue-slashed skirts; her expression was as fiery as her hair, and it grew hotter when she saw Siuan. She was not wearing the Keeper’s stole, a bad sign.

“I might have expected it would be you,” Carlinya said coldly, fists on her hips. She was never a warm woman, but now the ringlets that stopped well short of her shoulders framed a face that seemed carved from ice nearly as pale as her dress. “I will not have you trying to listen in on my private conversations, Siuan.” Oh, yes; they thought everything was at an end.

Round-faced Morvrin, for once not appearing at all absentminded or sleepy-eyed despite the creases in her brown wool skirt, walked around the small table where a tall silver pitcher and five silver cups sat on a lacquered tray. It seemed no one felt like tea; the cups were all dry. Dipping into her belt pouch, the graying sister thrust a carved horn comb into Siuan’s hand. “You are all windblown, woman. Fix your hair before some lout takes you for a tavern trull instead of an Aes Sedai and tries to dandle you on his knee.”

“Egwene and Leane are alive and prisoners inside the Tower,” Siuan announced, more calmly than she felt. A tavern trull? Touching her hair, she discovered that the other woman was right and began working the comb through the tangles. If you wanted to be taken seriously, you could not look as though you had been tussling in an alley. She had enough difficulty with that as it was, now, and would have until some years after she could lay hands on the Oath Rod again. “Egwene spoke to me in my dreams. They succeeded in blocking the harbors, near enough, but they were captured. Where are Beonin and Nisao? One of you go fetch them. I don’t want to scale the same fish twice.”

There. If they thought themselves free of their oaths, and free of Egwene’s orders to obey her, that should disabuse them. Except that no one moved to obey.

“Beonin wanted her bed,” Morvrin said slowly, studying Siuan. A very intense study. A sharp mind hid behind that placid face. “She was too tired to talk any more. And why would we have asked Nisao to join us?” That earned a small frown from Myrelle, who was Nisao’s friend, but the other two nodded agreement. They and Beonin thought of Nisao as apart from themselves in spite of the oaths of fealty they shared. In Siuan’s opinion, these women had never stopped believing they might still guide events somehow, even after the rudder had long since been taken from their hands.

Sheriam rose from the cot as though about to rush off, even gathering her skirts, but that had nothing to do with Siuan’s command. Anger had vanished, replaced by shining eagerness. “We dont need them for the moment in any case. ‘Prisoners’ means the deep cells until the Hall convenes for a trial. We can Travel there and free them before Elaida knows what is happening.”

Myrelle gave a sharp nod and stood, reaching to undo the sash of her robe. “Best if we leave the Warders behind, I think. They won’t be needed in this.” She drew more deeply on the Source, already anticipating.

“No!” Siuan said sharply, and winced as the comb caught in her hair. Sometimes she thought of cutting it shorter than Carlinya’s, for convenience, but Gareth had complimented her, saying how much he liked the way it brushed her shoulders. Light, could she not escape the man even here? “Egwene isn’t to be tried, and she isn’t in the deep cells. She wouldn’t tell me where she is being held except to say that she is guarded constantly. And she orders that there be no attempt to rescue her that involves sisters.”

The other women stared at her in shocked silence. In truth, she herself had argued the point with Egwene, to no avail. It had been an order, delivered by the Amyrlin Seat in full fig.

“What you’re saying is irrational,” Carlinya said finally. Her tone was still cool, her face serene, but her hands smoothed her embroidered white skirts unnecessarily. “If we capture Elaida, we will try her and very likely still her.” If. Their doubts and fears were not put to rest yet. “Since she has Egwene, surely she will do the same. I don’t need Beonin to tell me what the law says in that regard.”

“We must rescue her, whatever she wants!” Sheriam’s voice was hot as Carlinya’s was chill, and her green eyes sparkled. Her hands had turned to fists gripping her skirts. “She cannot realize the danger she is in. She must be in shock. Did she give you any hints where she’s held?”

“Don’t try to hide things from us, Siuan,” Myrelle said firmly. Her eyes seemed almost on fire, and she jerked the silk sash tighter for emphasis. “Why would she hide where she’s being held?”

“For fear of what you and Sheriam suggest.” Giving up on the wind-whipped tangles, Siuan tossed the comb down on the table. She could not stand there combing her hair and expect them to pay attention. Tousled would have to do. “She is guarded, Myrelle. By sisters. And they won’t give her up easily. If we try a rescue, Aes Sedai will die at the hands of Aes Sedai, sure as silverpike spawn in the reeds. It’s happened once, but it must not happen again, or all hope dies of reuniting the Tower peacefully. We cannot allow it to happen again. So there is to be no rescue. As to why Elaida has decided not to try her, I can’t say.” Egwene had been vague on that, as if she did not understand either. But she had been definite on the facts, and it was not a claim she would