The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time #12)

The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time #12) Page 19

More idiocy, of course. If you were planning to go into danger, then it was all the more reason to get married. Obviously. Nynaeve seated herself on the floor, arranging her skirts, and pointedly did not think of Lan. He had such a long distance to cover, and. . . .

And she had to make sure that she was given his bond before he reached the Blight. Just in case.

Suddenly, she sat upright. Cadsuane. The woman wasn't there; besides guards, the tent contained only Rand, Nynaeve, Min and Bashere. Was she off planning something that Nynaeve—

Cadsuane entered. The gray-haired Aes Sedai wore a simple tan dress. She relied on presence, not clothing, to draw attention, and of course her hair sparkled with its golden ornaments. Corele followed her in.

Cadsuane wove a ward against eavesdropping, and Rand did not object. He should stick up for himself more—that woman practically had him tamed, and it was unsettling how much he let her get away with. Like questioning Semirhage. The Forsaken were far too powerful and dangerous to treat lightly. Semirhage should have been stilled the moment they captured her . . . though Nynaeve s opinion in that regard was directly related to her own experience in keeping Moghedien captive.

Corele gave Nynaeve a smile; she tended to have one of those for everyone. Cadsuane, as usual, ignored Nynaeve. That was fine. Nynaeve had no need for her approval. Cadsuane thought she could order everyone around just because she'd outlived every other Aes Sedai. Well, Nynaeve knew for a fact that age had little to do with wisdom. Cenn Buie had been as old as rain, but had about as much sense as a pile of rocks.

Many of the camp's other Aes Sedai and camp leaders trickled into the tent over the next few minutes; perhaps Rand really bad sent messengers, and would have called for Nynaeve. The newcomers included Merise and her Warders, one of whom was the Asha'man Jahar Narishma, bells tinkling on the ends of his braids. Damer Flinn, Elza Penfell, a few of Bashere's officers also arrived. Rand glanced up when each one entered, alert and wary, but he quickly turned back to his maps. Was he growing paranoid? Some madmen grew suspicious of everyone.

Eventually, Rhuarc and Bael made their appearance, along with several other Aiel. They stalked through the tent's large entrance like cats on the prowl. In an odd turn, a batch of Wise Ones—whom Nynaeve had been able to sense when they got close—were among the group. Often, with Aiel, an event was either considered clan chief business or Wise One business—much as things happened back in the Two Rivers with the Village Council and the Women's Circle. Had Rand asked for them all to attend, or had they decided to come together for reasons of their own?

Nynaeve had been wrong about Aviendha's location; she was shocked to see the tall, red-haired woman hovering at the back of the group of Wise Ones. When had she left Caemlyn? And why was she carrying that worn cloth with a frayed edge?

Nynaeve didn't get a chance to ask Aviendha any questions, as Rand nodded to Rhuarc and the others, motioning for them to sit, which they did. Rand himself remained standing beside his map table. He placed his arms behind his back, hand clasping stump, a thoughtful look on his face. He offered no preamble. "Tell me of your work in Arad Doman," he said to Rhuarc. "My scouts inform me that this land is hardly at peace."

Rhuarc accepted a cup of tea from Aviendha—so she was still considered an apprentice—and turned to Rand. The clan chief did not drink. "We have had very little time, Rand al'Thor."

"I don't look for excuses, Rhuarc," Rand said. "Only results."

This brought flashes of anger to the faces of several of the other Aiel, and the Maidens at the doorway exchanged a furious burst of hand signals.

Rhuarc himself displayed no anger, though Nynaeve did think his hand tightened on his cup. "I have shared water with you, Rand al'Thor," he said. "I would not think that you would bring me here to offer insults."

"No insults, Rhuarc," Rand said. "Just truths. We don't have time to waste."

"No time, Rand al'Thor?" Bael said. The clan chief of the Goshien Aiel was a very tall man, and he seemed to tower, even when sitting down. "You left many of us in Andor for months with nothing to do but polish spears and scare wetlanders! Now you send us to this land with impossible orders, then follow a few weeks later and demand results?"

"You were in Andor to help Elayne," Rand said.

"She did not want or need help," Bael said with a snort. "And she was right to refuse aid. I'd rather run across the entire Waste with a single skin of water than have leadership of my clan handed to me by another."

Rand's expression grew dark again, his eyes stormy, and Nynaeve was again reminded of the tempest brewing to the north.

"This land is broken, Rand al'Thor," Rhuarc said, his voice calmer than Bael's. "It is not making excuses to explain that fact, and it is not cowardice to be cautious about a difficult task."

"We must have peace here," Rand growled. "If you can't manage—"

"Boy," Cadsuane said, "perhaps you want to stop and think. How often have you known the Aiel to fail you? How often have you failed, hurt, or offended them?"

Rand snapped his mouth closed, and Nynaeve gritted her teeth at not having spoken up herself. She glanced at Cadsuane, who had been given a chair to sit upon—Nynaeve couldn't recall ever seeing her sit on the floor. The chair had obviously been taken from the manor; it was constructed from pale elgilrim horns—which stretched out like open palms—and had a red cushion. Aviendha handed Cadsuane a cup of tea, which she sipped carefully.

With obvious effort, Rand pulled his temper back under control. "I apologize, Rhuarc, Bael. It has been a ... wearing few months."

"You have no toh" Rhuarc said. "But please, sit. Let us share shade and speak with civility."

Rand sighed audibly, then nodded, seating himself before the other two. The several Wise Ones in attendance—Amys, Melaine, Bair—didn't seem inclined to participate in the discussion. They were observers, much—Nynaeve realized—as she herself was.

"We must have peace in Arad Doman, my friends," Rand said, unrolling a map between them on the tent rug.

Bael shook his head. "Dobraine Taborwin has done well with Bandar Eban," he said, "but Rhuarc spoke rightly when he called this land broken. It is like a piece of Sea Folk porcelain dropped from the tip of a high mountain. You told us to discover who was in charge and see if we could restore order. Well, as far as we can tell, no one is in charge. Each city has been left to fend for itself."

"What of the Council of Merchants?" Bashere said, sitting down with them, knuckling his mustache as he studied the map. "My scouts say that they still hold some measure of power."

"In the cities where they rule, this is true," Rhuarc said. "But their influence is weak. There is only one member still in the capital, and she has little control there. We have stopped the fighting in the streets, but only with great effort." He shook his head. "This is what comes from trying to control more lands than holds and clan. Without their king, these Domani do not know who is in charge."

"Where is he?" Rand asked.

"Nobody knows, Rand al'Thor. He vanished. Some say months ago, others say it has been years."

"Graendal might have him," Rand whispered, studying the map intently. "If she's here. Yes, I think she probably is. But where? She won't be in the king's palace, that's not her way. She will have some place that is hers, a place where she can display her trophies. A location that would make a trophy itself, but not a place that one would think of immediately. Yes, I know. You're right. That's how she did it before. . . ."

Such familiarity! Nynaeve shivered. Aviendha knelt beside her, holding out a cup of tea. Nynaeve took it, meeting the woman's eyes, then began to whisper a question. Aviendha shook her head curtly. Later, her expression seemed to imply. Aviendha rose and retreated to the back of the room and then, grimacing, took out her frayed cloth and began pulling the threads out one at a time. What was the point of that?

"Cadsuane," Rand said, stopping his whispering, speaking up. "What do you know of the Council of Merchants?"

"They are mostly women," Cadsuane said, "and women of great cunning at that. However, they are also a selfish lot. It is their duty to choose the king, and with Alsalam's disappearance, they should have found a replacement. Too many of them see this as an opportunity, and that keeps them from reaching an agreement. I can assume that they've separated in face of this chaos to secure power in their home cities, fighting for position and alliances as they each offer their own choice of king for the others to consider."

"And this Domani army fighting the Seanchan?" Rand asked. "Is that their doing?"

"I know nothing of that."

"You speak of the man Rodel Ituralde," Rhuarc said.

"Yes."

"He fought well twenty years ago," Rhuarc said, rubbing his square chin. "He is of the ones you call a Great Captain. I should like to dance the spears with him."

"You will not," Rand said sharply. "Not while I live, at least. We will secure this land."

"And you expect us to do this without fighting?" Bael asked. "This Rodel Ituralde reportedly fights like a sandstorm against the Seanchan, drawing their ire better—even—than you yourself, Rand al'Thor. He will not sleep while you conquer his homeland."

"Once again," Rand said, "we are not here to conquer."

Rhuarc sighed. "Then why send us, Rand al'Thor? Why not use your Aes Sedai? They understand wetlanders. This country is like an entire kingdom of children, and we are too few adults to bring them to obedience. Particularly if you forbid us to spank them."

"You can fight," Rand said, "but only when you need to. Rhuarc, this has gone beyond the ability of Aes Sedai to fix. You can do this. People are intimidated by the Aiel; they will do as you say. If we can stop the Domani war with the Seanchan, perhaps this Daughter of the Nine Moons will see that I am serious in my desire for peace. Then maybe she'll agree to meet with me."

"Why not do as you've done before?" Bael asked. "Seize the land for your own?"

Bashere nodded, glancing at Rand.

"It won't work, not this time," Rand said. "A war here would take too many resources. You spoke of this Ituralde—he's holding off the Seanchan with virtually no supplies and few men. Would you have us engage a man that resourceful?"

How thoughtful Bashere seemed, as if he were indeed considering engaging this Ituralde. Men! They were all the same. Offer them a challenge, and they'd be curious, no matter that the challenge would likely end with them spitted on a lance.

"There are few men alive like Rodel Ituralde," Bashere said. "He would be a great help to our cause, for certain. I've always wondered if I could beat him."

"No," Rand said again, looking over the map. From what Nynaeve could see, it showed troop concentrations, marked with annotations. The Aiel were an organized mess of charcoal marks across the top of Arad Do-man; Ituralde's forces were deep into Almoth Plain, fighting Seanchan. The middle of Arad Doman was a sea of chaotic black annotations, likely the personal forces of various nobles.

"Rhuarc, Bael,' Rand said. "I want you to seize the members of the Council of Merchants."

The tent was silent.

"Are you certain that is wise, boy?" Cadsuane finally asked.

"They're in danger from the Forsaken," Rand said, idly tapping the map with his fingers. "If Graendal really has taken Alsalam, then getting him back will do us no good. He'll be so far beneath her Compulsion that he'll barely have the mind of a child. She's not subtle; she never has been. We need the Council of Merchants to choose a new king. That's the only way to bring this kingdom peace and order."

Bashere nodded. "It's bold."

"We are not kidnappers," Bael said, frowning.

"You are what I say you are, Bael," Rand said quietly.

"We are still free people, Rand al'Thor," Rhuarc said.

"I will change the Aiel with my passing," Rand said with a shake of his head. "I don't know what you'll be once this is all through, but you cannot remain what you were. I will have you take up this task. Of all those who follow me, I trust you the most. If we're going to take the members of the Council without throwing this land further into war, I will need your cunning and stealth. You can prowl into their palaces and manors as you infiltrated the Stone of Tear."

Rhuarc and Bael regarded one another, sharing a frown.

"Once you take the Council of Merchants," Rand continued, apparently unconcerned about their worries, "move the Aiel into the cities where those merchants ruled. Make sure those cities don't degenerate. Restore order as you did in Bandar Eban. From there, begin hunting bandits and enforcing the law. Supplies will soon arrive from the Sea Folk. Take cities on the coast first, then move inland. Within a month's time, the Domani should be flowing toward you, rather than running away from you. Offer them safety and food, and order will take care of itself."

A surprisingly rational plan. Rand really did have a clever mind, for a man. There was a lot of good in him, perhaps the very soul of a leader, if he could keep his temper in check.

Rhuarc continued to rub his chin. "It would help if we had some of your Saldaeans, Davram Bashere. Wetlanders do not like following Aiel. If they can pretend that wetlanders are in charge, then they will be more likely t