A Crown of Swords (58 page)

“Do you think they believe I dance on Aes Sedai strings?” he said.

Young Narishma gave a start. In truth, he was a little older than Rand, but he had the look of a boy five or six years younger. He glanced at Merana as though she had the answer, and shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “I . . . do not know, my Lord Dragon.”

Dashiva blinked and stopped murmuring to himself. Tilting his head, bird-like, he eyed Rand sideways. “Does it matter, so long as they obey?”

“It matters,” Rand said. Dashiva shrugged, and Narishma frowned thoughtfully; neither seemed to understand, yet maybe Narishma could come to.

Maps littered the stone floor behind the throne on its dais, rolled or folded or spread out where he had left them. He shifted some with the toe of his boot. So much to be juggled at once. Northern Cairhien and the
mountains called Kinslayer’s Dagger, and the region around the city. Illian and the Plains of Maredo out to Far Madding. The island of Tar Valon and all the surrounding towns and villages. Ghealdan and part of Amadicia. Movement and color in his head. Lews Therin moaned and laughed in the distance, faint mad mutters of killing the Asha’man, killing the Forsaken. Killing himself. Alanna stopped weeping, cutting anguish subdued beneath a thin thread of anger. Rand scrubbed his hands through his hair, pressing hard against his temples. What had it been like to be alone inside his own skull? He could not recall.

One of the tall doors opened to admit one of the Maidens who were standing guard in the corridor. Riallin, with vivid yellow-red hair and a grin for everything, actually managed to appear plump. For a Maiden, anyway. “Berelain sur Paendrag and Annoura Larisen wish to see the
Car’a’carn
,” she announced. Her voice went from warm and friendly on the first name to cold and flat on the second without disturbing her grin.

Rand sighed and opened his mouth to let them enter, but Berelain did not wait. She stormed in, a somewhat calmer Annoura at her heels. The Aes Sedai shied slightly at the sight of Dashiva and Narishma, and stared curiously when she saw Merana standing in her corner. Not so Berelain.

“What is the meaning of this, my Lord Dragon?” she demanded, brandishing the letter he had had delivered to her this morning. She stalked across the floor to shake it under his nose. “Why am I to return to Mayene? I have governed well here in your name, and you know it. I could not stop Colavaere having herself crowned, but at least I stopped her changing the laws you made. Why am I to be sent away? And why am I told by letter? Not to my face. By letter! Thanked for my services and dismissed like a clerk who’s done collecting the taxes!”

Even furious, the First of Mayene was one of the most beautiful women Rand had ever seen. Black hair fell in shining waves to her shoulders, framing a face to make a blind man stare. A man could easily drown in her dark eyes. Today she wore shimmering silver silk, thin and clinging and more suited to entertaining a lover in private. In fact, had the neckline been a hair lower, she would not have been able to wear the dress in public. As it was, he was not sure she should. He had told himself when writing that letter that it was because he had too much to do and no time for arguing with her. The truth was, he enjoyed looking at her too much; for some reason, he had begun feeling that that was—not exactly wrong, but almost.

As soon as she appeared, Lews Therin gave over ranting to hum softly,
the way he did when admiring a woman. Abruptly Rand realized he was thumbing his earlobe, and felt a shock. Instinctively, he knew that was something else Lews Therin did without thinking, like the humming. He pushed his hand to his side, but for an instant it wanted to rise to his ear again.

Burn you, this is my body!
The thought was a snarl.
Mine!
Lews Therin’s hum stopped in surprise, and confusion; without a sound, the dead man fled, back into the deepest shadows of Rand’s brain.

Rand’s silence had an effect. Berelain lowered the letter, and her anger receded. A little. Eyes fixed on his, she drew a deep breath that heated his cheeks. “My Lord Dragon—”

“You know why,” he cut in. Looking only at her eyes was not easy. Oddly, he found himself wishing Min were there. Very odd. Her viewings would be no help now. “When you returned from that Sea Folk ship this morning, there was a fellow waiting on the dock with a knife.”

Berelain tossed her head contemptuously. “He came no closer than three steps. I was accompanied by a dozen of the Winged Guards and Lord Captain Gallenne.” Nurelle had led some of the Winged Guards to Dumai’s Wells, but Gallenne commanded the Guards as a whole. She had eight hundred of them in the city aside from those who returned with Nurelle. “You expect me to turn tail because of a cutpurse?”

“Don’t play the fool,” he growled. “A cutpurse, with a dozen soldiers around you?” Color flared in her cheeks; she knew, all right. He gave her no chance for protests or explanations or any other foolishness. “Dobraine tells me he’s already heard whispers in the palace that you betrayed Colavaere. Those who supported her might be afraid to say boo to me, but they’ll pay to have a knife stuck into you.” And Faile, too, according to Dobraine; that was being taken care of. “But they won’t have a chance, because you are going back to Mayene. Dobraine will take your place here until Elayne claims the Sun Throne.”

She spluttered as if he had dumped cold water down her dress. Her eyes grew dangerously large. He had been glad when she stopped being afraid of him, but now he was not so sure. As she opened her mouth to explode, Annoura touched her arm, and her head whipped around. They exchanged a long look, and Berelain’s sputters subsided. She smoothed her skirts and vigorously squared her shoulders. Rand looked away hastily.

Merana hovered at the edge of the ward. He wondered whether she had stepped across and dodged back—how else could she stand right on top of what she could not possibly detect? When his head turned, she moved
backward until she almost touched the walls, her eyes never leaving him. By her face, she would have poured his tea every day for ten years to hear what was being said.

“My Lord Dragon,” Berelain said, smiling, “there is still the matter of the Atha’an Miere.” Her voice was warm honey; the curve of her lips would have sparked thoughts of kisses in a stone. “The Wavemistress Harine is not pleased to be left sitting on her ship so long. I have visited with her a number of times. I can smooth the difficulties there, which I hardly think Lord Dobraine can. I believe the Sea Folk are vital to you whether or not the Prophecies of the Dragon mention them. You are crucial in their prophecies, though they seem reluctant to say exactly how.”

Rand stared. Why was she struggling so hard to keep a difficult job that had offered few thanks from Cairhienin even before some began wanting to kill her? She was a ruler, used to dealing with rulers and embassies, not street thugs and knives in the dark. Warm honey or no warm honey, it was not for any desire to stay near Rand al’Thor. She had . . . well, offered herself to him . . . once, but the hard fact was that Mayene was a small country, and Berelain used her beauty as a man would a sword, to keep her land from being swallowed by its more powerful neighbor, Tear. And there, simple as that, he had it. “Berelain, I don’t know what else I can do to guarantee Mayene for you, but I will write out any—” Colors swirled so strongly in his head that his tongue froze. Lews Therin cackled.
A woman who knows the danger and isn’t afraid is a treasure only a madman would spurn.

“Guarantees.” Bleakness engulfed honey, and anger bubbled again, cold this time. Annoura plucked at Berelain’s sleeve, but she paid the Aes Sedai no heed. “While I sit in Mayene with your guarantees, others will serve you. They will ask their rewards, and the service I did here will be faded and old, while theirs is bright and new. If the High Lord Weiramon gives you Illian and asks Mayene in return, what will you say? If he gives you Murandy, and Altara, and everything clear to the Aryth Ocean?”

“Will you serve if it still means leaving?” he asked quietly. “You will be out of my sight, but not out of my mind.” Lews Therin laughed again, in such a way that Rand nearly blushed. He enjoyed looking, but sometimes the things Lews Therin thought. . . .

Berelain considered him with stubborn eyes, and he could all but see the questions being toted up behind Annoura’s, the careful choosing of which to ask.

The door opened again for Riallin. “An Aes Sedai has come to see the
Car’a’carn.
” She managed to sound cold and uncertain at the same time.
“Her name is Cadsuane Melaidhrin.” A strikingly handsome woman swept in right behind her, iron-gray hair gathered in a bun atop her head and decorated with dangling gold ornaments, and it seemed everything happened at once.

“I thought you were dead,” Annoura gasped, eyes nearly starting out of her head.

Merana darted through the ward, hands outstretched. “No, Cadsuane!” she screamed. “You mustn’t harm him! You must not!”

Rand’s skin tingled as someone in the room embraced
saidar
, perhaps more than one, and swiftly moving well clear of Berelain, he seized hold of the Source, flooding himself with
saidin
, feeling it fill the Asha’man. Dashiva’s face twitched as he glared from one Aes Sedai to another. Despite the Power he held, Narishma grasped his sword hilt with both hands and assumed the stance called Leopard in the Tree, on the brink of drawing. Lews Therin snarled of killing and death, kill them all, kill them now. Riallin raised her veil, shouting something, and suddenly a dozen Maidens were in the room, veiling, spears ready. It was hardly surprising that Berelain stood gaping as if everyone had gone mad.

For someone who had caused all that, this Cadsuane seemed remarkably unaffected. She looked at the Maidens and shook her head, golden stars and moons and birds swaying gently. “Trying to grow decent roses in northern Ghealdan may be near to death, Annoura,” she said dryly, “but it is not quite the grave. Oh, do calm down, Merana, before you frighten someone. One would think you would have grown a little less excitable since putting off novice white.”

Merana opened and closed her mouth, looking abashed of all things, and the tingling vanished abruptly. Rand did not release
saidin
, though, nor did the Asha’man.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What Ajah?” Red, by Merana’s reaction, but for a Red sister simply to walk in like this, alone, would require suicidal courage. “What do you want?”

Cadsuane’s gaze lingered on him for no more than a moment, and she did not answer. Merana’s lips parted, but the gray-haired woman looked at her, raising one eyebrow, and that was that. Merana actually reddened and lowered her eyes. Annoura was still staring at the newcomer as if at a ghost. Or a giant.

Without a word, Cadsuane swept across the room to the two Asha’man, dark green divided skirts swishing. Rand was beginning to get the feeling that she always moved in that rushing glide, graceful yet wasting no time
and allowing nothing to impede her. Dashiva stared her up and down, and sneered. Although looking him straight in the face, she did not seem to notice, any more than she appeared to notice Narishma’s hands on his sword when she put a finger under his chin, moving his head from side to side before he could jerk back.

“What lovely eyes,” she murmured. Narishma blinked uncertainly, and Dashiva’s sneer turned to a grin, but a nasty one that made his former smirk lighthearted in comparison.

“Do nothing,” Rand snapped. Dashiva had the gall to glower at him before sullenly pressing a fist to his chest in the salute the Asha’man used. “What do you want here, Cadsuane,” Rand went on. “Look at me, burn you!”

She did, turning just her head. “So you are Rand al’Thor, the Dragon Reborn. I’d have thought even a child like Moiraine could have taught you a few manners.”

Riallin put the spear from her right hand with those clutched behind her buckler and flashed Maiden handtalk. For once, none laughed. For once, Rand was sure the talk was not a joke about him. “Be easy, Riallin,” he said, raising a hand. “All of you, be easy.”

Cadsuane ignored the byplay too, directing a smile to Berelain. “So this is your Berelain, Annoura. She is more beautiful than I had heard.” The curtsy she made, bowing her head, was quite deep, yet somehow without any suggestion of obeisance, no hint that she was in any way less. It truly was a courtesy, no more. “My Lady First of Mayene, I must speak with this young man, and I would retain your advisor. I’ve heard you have undertaken many duties here. I would not keep you from them.” It was as clear a dismissal as could be, short of holding the door open.

Berelain inclined her head graciously, then smoothly turned to Rand and spread her skirts in a curtsy so deep that he worried whether she would remain even as clothed as she was. “My Lord Dragon,” she intoned, “I ask your kind permission to withdraw.”

Rand’s return bow was not so practiced. “Granted, my Lady First, as you wish.” He offered her a hand, to help her rise. “I hope you will consider my proposal.”

“My Lord Dragon, I will serve you wherever and however you desire.” Her voice was all honey again. For Cadsuane’s benefit, he supposed. There was certainly no flirtation on her face, only determination. “Remember Harine,” she added in a whisper.

When the door closed behind Berelain, Cadsuane said, “It’s always good to see children play, don’t you think, Merana?” Merana goggled, head
swiveling between Rand and the gray-haired sister. Annoura looked as though only willpower held her upright.

Most of the Maidens followed Berelain, apparently deciding there was to be no killing, but Riallin and two others remained before the door, still veiled. It might have been coincidence that there was one for each Aes Sedai. Dashiva also seemed to think any danger past. He leaned back against the wall with a foot propped, lips moving silently, arms folded, apparently watching the Aes Sedai.

Narishma frowned questioningly at Rand, but Rand only shook his head. The woman was deliberately trying to provoke him. The question was, why provoke a man she must know could still her, or kill her, without exerting himself? Lews Therin muttered the same thing.
Why? Why?
Stepping onto the dais, Rand took up the Dragon Scepter from the throne and sat, waiting to see what would happen. The woman was not going to succeed.