The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time #12)

The Gathering Storm (The Wheel of Time #12) Page 28

The fires had retreated; only the tarry mound remained, radiating a powerful heat. The wall near it and the entryway inside had become a gaping, blackened hole. Aviendha continued to pull water and dump it on the charred black mass, though she was beginning to feel extremely tired. Handling so much water required her to channel almost to her capacity.

Soon the water stopped hissing. Aviendha slacked her flow, then let it dribble to a stop. The ground around her was a wet, blackened disarray that smelled heavily of soggy ash. Bits of wood and char floated in the muddy water, and the holes where she had ripped up earth were filled, making pools. She walked forward hesitantly, inspecting the lump that was the remains of the unfortunate soldier. It was glassy and black, like obsidian, and it sparkled wetly. She picked up a length of singed wood— broken from the wall by the force of her water column—and poked at the mass. It was hard and firm.

"Burn you!" a voice bellowed. Aviendha looked up. Rand al'Thor strode through the broken hole that now formed the front of the mansion. He stared at the sky, shaking his fist. "I am the one you want! You will have your war soon enough!"

"Rand," Aviendha said hesitantly. Soldiers were milling about the green, looking concerned, as if expecting a battle. Bewildered servants peeked out of rooms inside the manor. The entire episode with the flames had taken less than five minutes.

"I will stop you!" Rand roared, causing calls of fright from both servants and soldiers. "Do you hear me! I am coming for you! Don't waste your power! You will need it against me!"

"Rand!" Aviendha called.

He froze, then looked down at her, dazed. She met his eyes, and she could feel his anger, almost as she'd felt the intense flames just a short time before. He turned and stalked away, walking back into the building and up the blackened wooden steps.

"Light!" an anxious voice asked. "Does this sort of thing happen often when he is near?"

Aviendha turned to see a young man in an unfamiliar uniform standing and watching. He was lanky, with light brown hair and coppery skin—she didn't remember his name, but she was fairly certain he was one of the officers Rand had brought back after meeting with Rodel Ituralde.

She turned back to the mess, listening to soldiers call orders in the distance. Bashere had arrived and was taking command, telling men to watch the perimeter, though he was likely just giving them something to do. This was not the beginning of an attack. It was just another of the Dark One's touches on the world, like meat spoiling, beetles and rats appearing from nothing, and men dropping dead of strange diseases.

"Yes," Aviendha said in response to the man's question, "it happens often. More often around the Car'a'carn than in other places, at least. You have had similar events among your own men?"

"I have heard stories," he said. "Only I dismissed them."

"Not all stories are exaggerations," she said, looking at the blackened remains of the soldier. "The Dark One's prison is weak."

"Bloody ashes," the young man said, turning away. "What have you gotten us into, Rodel?" The man shook his head and stalked off.

Bashere's officers began calling orders, organizing the men to clean up. Would Rand move out of the manor, now? When pockets of evil appeared, people often wanted to leave. And yet, through her bond with Rand, she felt no urgency. In fact ... it seemed that he had gone back to rest! That man's moods were becoming as erratic as Elayne's during her pregnancy.

Aviendha shook her head and started gathering burned chunks of wood to help clean. As she worked, several Aes Sedai came out of the building and began inspecting the damage. The entire front of the manor was scored with black marks, and the hole where the entry way had been was at least fifteen feet across. One of the women, Merise, eyed Aviendha appreciatively. "A shame," she said.

Aviendha straightened up, lifting a piece of charred wood, her clothing still soaked. With those clouds covering the sun, it would be long before she was dry. "A shame?" she asked. "About the manor?" The portly Lord Tellaen, owner of the place, moaned to himself as he sat on a stool inside the entryway, wiping his brow and shaking his head.

"No," Merise said. "A shame about you, child. Your skill with weaves, it is impressive. If we had you in the White Tower, you'd have been an Aes Sedai by now. Your weaving, it has some roughness to it, but you'd learn to fix that quickly if taught by sisters."

There was an audible sniff, and Aviendha spun. Melaine stood behind her. The golden-haired Wise One had her arms folded beneath her br**sts, and her stomach was starting to bulge with child. Her face was not amused. How had Aviendha let the woman walk up behind her without hearing? She was letting her fatigue make her careless.

Melaine and Merise stared at each other for a long moment; then the tall Aes Sedai spun in a flurry of green skirts and moved off to speak with the servants who had been trapped by the flames, asking if any of them needed Healing. Melaine watched her go, then shook her head. "Insufferable woman," she muttered. "To think, how we once regarded them!"

"Wise One?" Aviendha asked.

"I'm stronger than most Aes Sedai, Aviendha, and you're far stronger than I am. You have a control and understanding of weaves that puts most of us to shame. Others have to struggle to learn what comes naturally to you. 'Roughness to your weaves,' she says! I doubt any of the Aes Sedai, save perhaps Cadsuane Sedai, could have managed what you did with that column of water. Moving water that far required you to use the river's own flow and pressure."

"Is that what I did?" Aviendha asked, blinking.

Melaine eyed her, then snorted again, softly to herself. "Yes, that is what you did. You have such great talent, child."

Aviendha swelled with the praise; from Wise Ones, it was rare, but always sincere.

"But you refuse to learn," Melaine continued. "There isn't much time! Here, I have another question for you. What do you think of Rand al'Thor's plan to kidnap these Domani merchant chiefs?"

Aviendha blinked again, so tired it was hard to think. It defied reason that the Domani used merchants as leaders in the first place. How could a merchant lead people? Did not merchants have to focus on their wares? It was ridiculous. Would the wetlanders ever stop shocking her with their strange ways?

And why was Melaine asking her about this now of all times?

"His plan seems a good one, Wise One," Aviendha said. "Yet the spears do not like being used for kidnapping. I think the Car'a'carn should have spoken in terms of offering protection—forced protection— for the merchants. The chiefs would have responded better to being told they were protecting rather than kidnapping."

"They would be doing the very same thing, no matter what you call it."

"But what you call a thing is important," Aviendha said. "It is not dishonest if both definitions are true."

Melaine's eyes twinkled, and Aviendha caught a hint of a smile on her lips. "What else do you think of the meeting?"

"Rand al'Thor still seems to think that the Car'a'carn can make demands like a wetlander king. This is my shame. I failed to explain the right way."

Melaine waved a hand. "You have no shame there. We all know how bullheaded the Car'a'carn is. The Wise Ones have tried as well, and none have been able to train him correctly."

So. That wasn't the reason for her dishonor before the Wise Ones. What was it then? Aviendha ground her teeth in frustration, then forced herself to continue. "Regardless, he needs to be reminded. Again and again. Rhuarc is a wise and patient man, but not all clan chiefs are so. I know that some of the others wonder if their decision to follow Rand al'Thor was an error."

"True," Melaine said. "But look at what happened to the Shaido."

"I did not say they were right, Wise One," Aviendha said. A group of soldiers were hesitantly trying to pry up the glassy black mound. It appeared to have fused to the ground. Aviendha lowered her voice. "They are wrong to question the Car'a'carn, but they are speaking to one another. Rand al'Thor needs to realize that they will not accept offense after offense from him without end. They may not turn against him like the Shaido, but I would not put it past Timolan—for instance—to simply return to the Three-fold Land and leave the Car'a'carn to his arrogance."

Melaine nodded. "Do not worry. We are aware of this . . . possibility."

That meant Wise Ones had been sent to soothe Timolan, who was chief of the Miagoma Aiel. It would not be the first time. Did Rand al'Thor know how hard the Wise Ones worked behind his back to maintain Aiel loyalty? Probably not. He saw them all as one homogeneous group, sworn to him, to be used. That was one of Rand's great weaknesses. He could not see that Aiel, like other people, did not like being used as tools. The clans were far less tightly knit than he believed. Blood feuds had been put aside for him. Couldn't he understand how incredible that was? Couldn't he see how tenuous that alliance continued to be?

But not only was he a wetlander by birth, he was not a Wise One. Few Aiel themselves saw the work the Wise Ones did in a dozen different areas. How simple life had seemed when she had been a Maiden! It would have dazzled her to know how much went on beyond her sight.

Melaine stared blindly at the broken building. "A remnant of a remnant," she said, as if to herself. "And if he leaves us burned and broken, like those boards? What will become of the Aiel then? Do we limp back to the Three-fold Land and continue as we did before? Many will not want to leave. These lands offer too much."

Aviendha blinked at the weight of those words. She had rarely given thought to what would happen after the Car'a'carn was finished with them. She was centered on the now, upon regaining her honor and being there to protect Rand al'Thor at the Last Battle. But a Wise One could not just think of the now or the tomorrow. She had to think of the years ahead and the times that would be brought upon the winds.

A remnant of a remnant. He had broken the Aiel as a people. What would become of them?

Melaine glanced back at Aviendha, her face softening. "Go to the tents, child, and rest. You look like a sharadan that has crawled on his belly across three days of sand."

Aviendha looked down at her arms, seeing the flakes of ash from the burnings. Her clothing was soaked and stained, and she suspected that her face was just as filthy. Her arms ached from carrying the stones all day. Once she acknowledged the fatigue, it seemed to crash upon her like a windstorm. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to remain upright. She would not shame herself by collapsing! But she did turn to leave, as instructed.

"Oh, and Aviendha," Melaine called. "We will discuss your punishment tomorrow."

She turned in shock.

"For not finishing with the stones," Melaine said, surveying the wreckage again. "And for not learning quickly enough. Go."

Aviendha sighed. Another round of questions, and another undeserved punishment. There was a correlation of some sort. But what?

She was too exhausted to think about it for now. All she wanted was her bed, and she found herself treacherously recalling the soft, luxurious mattresses back in the palace of Caemlyn. She forced those thoughts out of her mind. Sleep that soundly, muffled in pillows and down comforters, and you'd be too relaxed to wake if someone tried to kill you in the night! How had she let Elayne convince her to sleep in one of those soft-feathered death traps?

Another thought occurred to her as she pushed that one away—a treacherous one. A thought of Rand al'Thor, resting in his room. She could go to him. . . .

No! Not until she had her honor back. She would not go to him as a beggar. She would go to him as a woman of honor. Assuming that she could ever figure out what she was doing wrong.

She shook her head and trotted toward the Aiel camp at the side of the green.

CHAPTER 12

Unexpected Encounters

Egwene walked the cavernous halls of the White Tower, lost in thought. Her two Red keepers trailed along behind. They seemed a little sullen these days. Elaida ordered them to stay with Egwene more and more often; though the individuals changed, there were almost always two with her. And yet, it seemed that they could sense that Egwene considered them to be attendants rather than guards.

It had been well over a month since Siuan had conveyed her disturbing news in Tel'aran'rhiod, but still Egwene thought about it. The events were a reminder that the world was coming apart. This was a time when the White Tower should have been a source of stability. Instead, it divided against itself while Rand al'Thor's men bonded sisters. How could Rand have allowed such a thing? There was obviously little left of the youth with whom she'd grown up. Of course, there was little of the youthful Egwene left either. Gone were the days when the two of them had seemed destined to end up married, living on a little farm in the Two Rivers.

That, oddly, led her to thinking of Gawyn. How long had it been since she'd last seen him, stealing kisses in Cairhien? Where was he now? Was he safe?

Keep focused, she told herself. Clean the patch of floor you're working on first before you move on to the rest of the house. Gawyn could look after himself; he'd done a competent job of that in the past. Too competent, in some cases.

Siuan and the others would deal with the Asha'man matter. The other news was far more disturbing. One of the Forsaken, in the camp? A woman, yet channeling saidin instead of saidar? Egwene would have called it impossible, once. Yet she had seen ghosts in the halls of the White Tower, and the corridors seemed to rearrange on a daily basis. This was just another sign.

She shivered. Halima had touched Egwene, supposedly massaging her headaches away. Those headaches disappeared as soon as Egwene had been captured; why hadn't she considered that Halima might have been causing them? What else had the woman been plotting? What hidden knots would the Aes Sedai stumble over,