The Path of Daggers (The Wheel of Time #8)

The Path of Daggers (The Wheel of Time #8) Page 58

“A dangerous decision,” he told her calmly. She wished she could make out his face in the darkness. Only to read his expression, of course. “You heard him threaten to hang anyone who looked at him the wrong way. I can believe it, in a man with those eyes. Like a beast. I was surprised he let that fellow go; I thought he’d rip his throat out! If he discovers who you are, who you used to be... Balwer might betray you. He never really explained why he helped us escape Amador. Maybe he thought Queen Morgase would give him a new position. Now he knows there’s no chance of that, and he might want to curry favor with his new master and mistress.”

“Are you afraid of Lord Perrin Goldeneyes?” she demanded contemptuously. Light, the man frightened her! Those eyes belonged on a wolf. “Balwer knows enough to hold his tongue. Anything he says will reflect on him; he came with me, after all. If you’re afraid, then ride on!”

“You always fling that in my face,” he sighed, settling back on his heels. She could not see his eyes, but she could feel them. “Ride on if you wish, you say. Once, there was a soldier loved a queen from afar, knowing it was hopeless, knowing he could never dare speak. Now the queen is gone, and only a woman remains, and I hope. I burn with hope! If you want me to leave, Maighdin, say it. One word. ‘Go!’ A simple word.”

She opened her mouth. A simple word, she thought. Light, it’s only one word! Why can’t I say it! Light, please! For the second time that night, the Light failed to hear. She sat there huddled in her blankets like a fool, her mouth open, her face growing hotter and hotter.

If he had chuckled again, she would have put her belt knife in him. If he had laughed, or given any sign of triumph... Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her eyes. She made a sound deep in her throat; she could not seem to move. Wideeyed, she watched him stand. He loomed in the moonlight. She was a queen — she had been a queen — used to command, used to hard decisions in hard times, but right then the pounding of her heart drummed thought from her head.

“Had you said ‘go,’” he told her, “I’d have buried hope, but I could never leave you.”

Not until he was back in his own blankets could she make herself lie down and draw hers around her. She breathed as if she had been running. The night was cool; she was shivering, not trembling. Tallanvor was too young. Too young! Worse, he was right. Burn him for that! A lady’s maid could do nothing to affect events, and if the Dragon Reborn’s wolfeyed killer learned that he had Morgase of Andor in his hands, she could be used against Elayne instead of helping her. He had no right to be right when she wanted him to be wrong! The illogic of that thought infuriated her. There was a chance she might do some good! There had to be!

In the back of her head, a small voice laughed. You can’t forget that you’re Morgase Trakand, it told her scornfully, and even after she’s abdicated her throne, Queen Morgase can’t stop trying her hand in the affairs of the mighty, no matter how much ruin she’s made of it so far. And she can’t tell a man to go away, either, because she can’t stop thinking how strong his hands are, and how his lips curve when he smiles, and —

Furious, she pulled the blanket over her head, trying to shut out the voice. She was not staying because she could not walk away from power. As for Tallanvor... She would set him firmly in his place. This time she would! But... What was his place, with a woman who was no longer a queen? She tried to put him out of her mind and tried to ignore that mocking voice that would not be quiet, yet when sleep finally came, she could still feel the pressure of his lips on her eyelids.

Chapter 9

(Serpent and Wheel)

Tangles

Perrin woke before first light as usual, and as usual, Faile was already up and about. She could make a mouse seem noisy when she wanted to, and he suspected that if he woke an hour after lying down, she would still manage to be up first. The doorflaps were tied back, the side panels raised a little at the bottom, and a stir of air rose through the venthole in the peak, enough to create an illusion of coolness. Perrin actually shivered while searching for his shirt and breeches. Well, it was supposed to be winter, even if the weather did not know it.

He dressed in the dark and scrubbed his teeth with salt, needing no lamps, and when he left the tent, stamping his feet into his boots, Faile had her new servants gathered around her in the deep grayness of early morning, some holding lighted lanterns. A lord’s daughter needed servants; he should have arranged for it before this. There were Two Rivers folk in Caemlyn that Faile had trained herself, but with the need for secrecy there had been no way to fetch them along. Master Gill would want to go home as soon as possible, and Lamgwin and Breane with him, but maybe Maighdin and Lini would stay.

Aram straightened from where he had been sitting crosslegged beside the tent, and waited silently on Perrin. If Perrin had not stopped him, Aram would have slept across the entrance. This morning his coat was striped redandwhite, though the white was a trifle dingy, and even here that wolfheadpommeled sword hilt rose over his shoulder. Perrin had left his axe in the tent, and grateful to be rid of it. Tallanvor still wore his sword belted over his coat, but not Master Gill or the other two.

Faile must have been watching, because no sooner did Perrin come out than she gestured toward the tent, clearly issuing orders. Maighdin and Breane came bustling past him and Aram with lanterns, their jaws set, smelling of determination for some reason. Neither curtsied, a pleasant surprise. Lini did, a quick bend of the knee before she darted after the other two muttering about “knowing their place.” Perrin suspected Lini was one of those women who saw her “place” as being in charge. Come to think of it, most women did. That was the way of the world, it seemed, not just the Two Rivers.

Tallanvor and Lamgwin followed close behind the women, and Lamgwin was as serious about bowing as Tallanvor, who was almost grim. Perrin sighed and bowed back, and they both gave a start, gaping at him. A curt shout from Lini jerked them into the tent.

With only a quickly flashed smile for him, Faile strode off toward the carts, talking alternately to Basel Gill on one side of her and Sebban Balwer on the other. The men each held a lantern out to light her way. Of course, a double handful of those idiots kept pace where they could hear if she raised her voice, strutting and stroking sword hilts and staring about in the dimness as though they expected an attack or hoped for one. Perrin tugged at his short beard. She always found plenty of work to fill her hours, and nobody took it out of her