Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13)

Towers of Midnight (The Wheel of Time #13) Page 93

“No,” Faile said. “Leaving will do nothing for the rumors, Berelain.”

“It will do as much as killing me would,” the woman said dryly. “If we fight, and you somehow managed to kill me, all that would be said is that you discovered your husband’s infidelity and became enraged. I fail to see how that would help your position. It would only encourage the rumors.”

“You see my problem, then,” Faile said, letting her exasperation show through. “There seems to be no way to be rid of these rumors.”

Berelain studied her. The woman had once promised she would take Perrin. Had all but vowed it. She seemed to have backed off on that, in part, recently. And her eyes showed hints of worry.

She realizes that she let this go too far, Faile thought, understanding. Of course. Berelain hadn’t expected Faile to return from Malden. That was why she’d made such a bold move.

Now she realized she’d overextended herself. And she legitimately thought Faile unhinged enough to duel her in public.

“I never wanted this, Berelain,” Faile said, walking back into the tent. “And neither did Perrin. Your attentions are an annoyance to us both.”

“Your husband did little to dissuade me,” Berelain said, arms folded. “During your absence, there were points where he directly encouraged me.”

“You understand him so little, Berelain.” It was amazing how the woman could be so blind while being so clever in other ways.

“So you claim,” Berelain said.

“You have two choices right now, Berelain,” Faile said, stepping up to her. “You can fight me, and one of us will die. You’re right, that wouldn’t end the rumors. But it would end your chances at Perrin. Either you’d be dead, or you’d be the woman who killed his wife.

“Your other choice,” Faile said, meeting Berelain’s eyes, “is to come up with a way to destroy these rumors once and for all. You caused this mess. You will fix it.”

And there was her gamble. Faile couldn’t think of a way out of the situation, but Berelain was much more accomplished in this regard than she was. So Faile came, prepared to manipulate Berelain into thinking she was ready to do something unreasonable. Then let the woman’s impressive political acumen attack the situation.

Would it work?

Faile met Berelain’s eyes, and allowed herself to feel her anger. Her outrage at what had happened. She was being beaten, frozen and humiliated by their common enemy. And during that, Berelain had the gall to do something like this?

She held the First’s eyes. No, Faile did not have as much political experience as Berelain. But she had something the woman didn’t. She loved Perrin. Deeply, truly. She would do anything to keep him from being hurt.

The First studied her. “Very well,” she said. “So be it. Be proud of yourself, Faile. It is…rare that I take myself off a prize I have long desired.”

“You haven’t said how we could get rid of the rumors.”

“There may be a method,” Berelain said. “But it will be distasteful.”

Faile raised an eyebrow.

“We will need to be seen as friends,” Berelain explained. “Fighting, being at odds, this will fuel the rumors. But if we are seen spending time with one another, it will disarm them. That, mixed with a formal renunciation on my part of the rumors, will likely be enough.”

Faile sat down in the chair she had been using earlier. Friends? She detested this woman.

“It would have to be a believable act,” Berelain said, rising and walking over to the serving stand at the corner of the tent. She poured herself some chilled wine. “Only that would work.”

“You’ll find another man, as well,” Faile said. “Someone you can give your attentions to, for a time at least. To prove that you are not interested in Perrin.”

Berelain raised the cup. “Yes,” she said. “I suspect that would help too. Can you put on such an act, Faile ni Bashere t’Aybara?”

You believed I was ready to kill you over this, didn’t you, Faile thought. “I promise it.”

Berelain paused, winecup halfway to her lips. Then she smiled, and drank. “We shall see, then,” she said, lowering the cup, “what comes of this.”

Chapter 19

Talk of Dragons

Mat tugged on a sturdy brown coat. The buttons were brass, but other than that, it was free of ornamentation. Made of a thick wool, it had a few holes from arrows that really should have killed him. One of the holes had a bloodstain around it, but that had mostly been washed out. It was a nice coat. He would have paid good coin for a coat like this one, when he lived back in the Two Rivers.

He rubbed his face, looking in the mirror of his new tent. He had shaved off that bloody beard, finally. How did Perrin manage that bloody itching? The man must have sandpaper for skin. Well, Mat would find another way to disguise himself, when needed.

He had nicked himself a few times while shaving. But it was not as if he had forgotten how to take care of himself. He did not need a manservant to do what he could manage on his own. Nodding to himself, he pulled on his hat and grabbed his ashandarei from the corner of the tent; the ravens on the blade seemed to perch excitedly in anticipation of battles to come. “Bloody right you do,” Mat said, resting the ashandarei on his shoulder as he walked out of the tent. He grabbed his pack and slung it over his other shoulder. Starting tonight, he would be spending nights in the city.

He strode through camp, nodding to a group of passing Redarms. He had doubled the watch. He was worried about the gholam, but also about the many military camps in the area. Half were mercenaries, half were the retainers of this minor lord or that, coming to pay respects to the Queen—suspiciously arriving after the fighting was done.

No doubt each and every one was professing his heartfelt allegiance to Elayne, explaining that his men supported her all along. Their words probably fell a little flat, since Mat had it on good authority from three separate drunks in taverns that Elayne had used Traveling extensively in recruiting her defense. It was easier to feign a delayed arrival when you were responding to a written message.

“Mat! Mat!”

Mat stopped on the pathway outside his tent as Olver came racing up. The boy had taken to wearing a red band around his arm, much as the Redarms did, but he still wore his brown trousers and coat. He was carrying his rolled-up cloth for Snakes and Foxes under one arm and a p