A Crown of Swords (88 page)

“Light, Nynaeve, you are a hawk! Light! I haven’t laughed since. . . .” His mirth faded, the coldness that had dimmed in his eyes for an instant returning. “I do wish it could be, Nynaeve, but—”

“It can and will,” she broke in. Men always seemed to get the upper hand if you let them talk too long. She plumped herself down on his knees. They were not married yet, true, but he was softer than the unpadded benches on this boat. She shifted a bit to make herself more comfortable. Well, no harder than the benches, anyway. “You might as well reconcile yourself, Lan Mandragoran. My heart belongs to you, and you’ve admitted yours belongs to me.
You
belong to me, and I will not let you go. You will be my Warder, and my husband, and for a very long time. I will not let you die. Do you understand
that
? I can be as stubborn as I have to be.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” he said, and her eyes narrowed. His tone sounded awfully . . . dry.

“As long as you do now,” she said firmly. Twisting her neck, she peered through the piercework in the hull behind him, then craned around to peer through the carving at the front of the cabin. Long stone docks thrusting out from the stone quay passed by; all she could see ahead were more docks, and the city gleaming white in the afternoon sun. “Where are we going?” she muttered.

“I told them to put us ashore as soon as I had you aboard,” Lan said. “It seemed best to get off the river as fast as possible.”

“You . . . ?” She clamped her teeth shut. He had not known where she was headed or why; he had done the best he could with what he did know. And he
had
saved her life. “I can’t go back to the city yet, Lan.” Clearing her throat, she changed her tone. However gentle she had to be with him, that much syrup would make her sick up all over again. “I have to go to the Sea Folk ships, to
Windrunner
” Much better; light, but not too light, and firm.

“Nynaeve, I was right behind your boat. I saw what happened. You were fifty paces ahead of me, and then fifty paces behind, sinking. It had to be balefire.” He did not need to say more; she said it for him, and with more knowledge than he had.

“Moghedien,” she breathed. Oh, it could have been another of the Forsaken, or one of the Black Ajah perhaps, but she knew. Well, she had beaten Moghedien not once, but twice. She could do so a third time, if necessary. Her face must not have shared her confidence.

“Don’t be afraid,” Lan said, touching her cheek. “Don’t ever be afraid while I’m near. If you have to face Moghedien, I’ll make sure you are angry enough to channel. I seem to have some talent in that direction.”

“You’ll never make me angry again,” she began, and stopped, staring at him wide-eyed. “I’m not angry,” she said slowly.

“Not now, but when you need to be—”

“I’m not angry,” she laughed. She kicked her feet in delight, and pounded her fists on his chest, laughing,
Saidar
filled her, not just with life and joy, but this time, with awe. With feathery flows of Air, she stroked his cheeks. “I am not angry, Lan,” she whispered.

“Your block is gone.” He grinned, sharing her delight, but the grin put no warmth into his eyes.

I will take care of you, Lan Mandragoran
, she promised silently.
I will not let you die.
Leaning on his chest, she thought of kissing him, and even. . . .
You are not Calle Coplin
, she told herself firmly.

A sudden, horrible thought struck her. All the more horrible because it had not come earlier. “The boatmen?” she said quietly. “My bodyguards?” Wordlessly, he shook his head, and she sighed. Bodyguards. Light, they had needed her protection, not the other way around. Four more deaths to lay at Moghedien’s feet. Four on top of thousands, but these were personal, as far she was concerned. Well, she was not about to settle Moghedien this moment.

Getting to her feet, she began seeing what she could do about her clothes. “Lan, will you turn the boatmen around? Tell them to row for all they have.” As it was, she would not see the palace again before nightfall. “And find out if one of them has such a thing as a comb.” She could not face Nesta like this.

He picked up his coat and sword and gave her a bow. “As you command, Aes Sedai.”

Pursing her lips, she watched the door close behind him. Laughing at her, was he? She would wager someone on
Windrunner
could perform a
marriage. And from what she had seen of the Sea Folk, she would wager Lan Mandragoran would find himself promising to do as he was told. They would see who laughed then.

Lurching and rolling, the boat began to swing around, and her stomach lurched with it.

“Oh, Light!” she groaned, sinking onto the bench. Why could she not have lost that along with her block? Holding
saidar
, aware of every touch of the air on her skin, only made it worse. Letting go did not help. She was not going to sick up again. She was going to make Lan hers once and for all. This was going to be a wonderful day yet. If only she could stop feeling that storm on the way.

The sun sat luridly just above the rooftops by the time Elayne rapped on the door with her knuckles. Revelers danced and cavorted in the street behind her, filling the air with laughter and song and the scent of perfume. Idly, she wished she had had a chance really to enjoy the festival. A costume like Birgitte’s might have been fun. Or even one like that she had seen on the Lady Riselle, one of Tylin’s attendants, first thing this morning. As long as she could have kept her mask on. She rapped again, harder.

The gray-haired, square-jawed maid opened the door, fury suddenly painting her face when Elayne lowered her green mask. “You! What are you doing back—?” Fury turned to ghastly paleness as Merilille removed her mask, and Adeleas and the others did the same. The woman jerked with each ageless face revealed, and even with Sareitha’s. By that time, maybe she saw what she expected to see.

With a sudden cry, the maid tried to push the door shut, but Birgitte darted past Elayne, her feathered shoulder knocking it back open. The servant staggered a few steps, then gathered herself, but whether to run or shout, Birgitte was there beforetime, gripping her arm just below the shoulder.

“Easy,” Birgitte said firmly. “We don’t want any fuss or shouting, now do we?” It did seem she was only holding the woman’s arm, almost supporting her, but the maid stood very straight indeed and very still. Staring wide-eyed at her captor’s plume-crested mask, she shook her head slowly.

“What is your name?” Elayne asked, as everyone crowded into the entry hall behind her. The closing door muted the noise from outside. The maid’s eyes darted from one face to the next as if she could not bear to gaze at any one for long.

“C-c-cedora.”

“You will take us to Reanne, Cedora.” This time, Cedora nodded; she looked about to cry.

Cedora stiffly led the way upstairs with Birgitte still holding her arm. Elayne considered telling her to release the woman, but the last thing she wanted was a shouted alarm and everyone in the house fleeing in all directions. That was why Birgitte used muscle instead of Elayne herself channeling. She thought Cedora was more frightened than hurt, and everybody was to be at least a little frightened this evening.

“In th-there,” Cedora said, nodding to a red door. The door to the room where Nynaeve and she had had that unfortunate interview. She opened it and went in.

Reanne was there, seated with the fireplace carved with the Thirteen Sins at her back, and so were another dozen women Elayne had never seen before, occupying all of the chairs against the pale green walls, sweating with the windows tight and curtains drawn. Most wore Ebou Dari dresses, though only one possessed the olive skin; most had lines on their faces and at least a touch of gray; and every last woman of them could channel to one degree or another. Seven wore the red belt. She sighed in spite of herself. When Nynaeve was right, she let you know it until you wanted to scream.

Reanne bounded to her feet in the same red-faced fury Cedora had shown, and her first words were almost identical as well. “You! How dare you show your face . . . ?” Words and fury drained away together for the same reason, too, as Merilille and the others entered on Elayne’s heels. A yellow-haired woman in red belt and plunging neckline made a faint sound as her eyes rolled up in her head and she slid bonelessly from her red chair. No one moved to help her. No one even glanced at Birgitte as she escorted Cedora to a corner and planted her there. No one seemed to breathe. Elayne felt a great desire to shout “boo” just to see what would happen.

Reanne swayed, white-faced, and visibly tried to gather herself with slight success. It took her only a moment to scan the five cool-faced Aes Sedai lined up before the door and decide who must be in charge. She wobbled across the floortiles to Merilille and sank to her knees, head bowed. “Forgive us, Aes Sedai.” Her voice was worshipful, and only a little steadier than her knees had been. She babbled, in fact. “We are only a few friends. We have done nothing, certainly nothing to bring discredit to Aes Sedai. I swear that, whatever this girl has told you. We would have told you of her, but we were afraid. We only meet to talk. She has a friend, Aes
Sedai. Did you catch her, too? I can describe her for you, Aes Sedai. Whatever you wish, we will do. I swear, we—”

Merilille cleared her throat loudly. “Your name is Reanne Corly, I believe?” Reanne flinched and whispered that it was, still peering at the floor at the Gray sister’s feet. “I fear you must address yourself to Elayne Sedai, Reanne.”

Reanne’s head jerked up in a
most
satisfactory way. She stared at Merilille, then by slow increments turned eyes as big as her face to Elayne. She licked her lips. She drew a deep, long breath. Twisting around on her knees to face Elayne, she bowed her head once more. “I beg your forgiveness, Aes Sedai,” she said leadenly. “I did not know. I could not—” Another long, hopeless breath. “Whatever punishment you decree, we accept humbly, of course, but please, I beg you to believe that—”

“Oh, stand up,” Elayne broke in impatiently. She had wanted to make this woman acknowledge her as much as she had Merilille or any of the others, but the groveling sickened her. “That’s right. Stand on your feet.” She waited until Reanne complied, then walked over and sat in the woman’s chair. There was no need for cringing, but she wanted no doubts who was in charge. “Do you still deny knowledge of the Bowl of the Winds, Reanne?”

Reanne spread her hands. “Aes Sedai,” she said guilelessly, “none of us would ever use a
ter’angreal
, much less an
angreal
or
sa’angreal.
” Guileless, and wary as a fox in a city. “I assure you, we make no pretense of being anything even near to Aes Sedai. We are just these few friends you see, tied together by once having been allowed to enter the White Tower. That is all.”

“Just these few friends,” Elayne said dryly over steepled fingers. “And Garenia, of course. And Berowin, and Derys, and Alise.”

“Yes,” Reanne said reluctantly. “And them.”

Elayne shook her head very slowly. “Reanne, the White Tower knows about your Kin. The Tower has
always
known.” A dark woman with a Tairen look to her, though wearing a blue-and-white silk vest with the sigil of the goldsmith’s guild, gave a strangled scream and pressed both plump hands to her mouth. A lean, graying Saldaean wearing the red belt crumpled with a sigh to join the yellow-haired woman on the floor, and two more swayed as if they might.

For her part, Reanne looked to the sisters in front of the door for confirmation, and saw it, as she thought. Merilille’s face was more icy than serene, and Sareitha grimaced before she could stop herself. Vandene and
Careane were both tight-lipped, and even Adeleas seemed included, turning her head this way and that to study the women along the walls as she might have insects previously unknown to her. Of course, what Reanne saw and what was were not the same. They had all accepted Elayne’s decision, but no amount of “Yes, Elayne . . .” could make them like it. They would have been here two hours ago if not for a great deal of “But, Elayne . . .” tossed in. Sometimes leading meant herding.

Reanne did not faint, but fear filled her face, and she raised pleading hands. “Do you mean to destroy the Kin? Why now, after so long? What have we done that you should come down on us now?”

“No one will destroy you,” Elayne told her. “Careane, since nobody else is going to help those two, would you, please?” Jumps and blushes ran around the room, and before Careane could move, two women were crouching over each one who had fainted, lifting her up and waving smelling salts under her nose. “The Amyrlin Seat desires every woman who can channel to be connected to the Tower,” Elayne went on. “The offer is open to any of the Kin who wish to accept.”

Had she woven flows of Air around every one of those women, she could not have frozen them more still. Had she squeezed those flows tight, she could not have produced more bulging eyes. One of the women who had fainted suddenly gasped and coughed, pushing away the tiny vial of salts that had been held still too long. That broke everyone free in a deluge of voices.

“We can become Aes Sedai after all?” the Tairen in the goldsmith’s vest asked excitedly, at the same time that a round-faced woman with a red belt at least twice as long as anyone else’s burst out with, “They will let us learn? They will teach us again?” A deluge of painfully eager voices. “We can really . . . ?” and “They will let us . . . ?” from every side.

Reanne rounded on them fiercely. “Ivara, Sumeko, all of you, you forget yourselves! You speak in front of Aes Sedai! You speak in—front of—Aes Sedai.” She passed a hand over her face, trembling. An embarrassed silence descended. Eyes fell and blushes rose. With all those lined faces, all that gray and white hair, Elayne still was minded of nothing so much as a group of novices having a pillow-fight after Last had tolled when the Mistress of Novices walked in.

Hesitantly, Reanne looked at her across her fingertips. “We truly will be allowed to return to the Tower?” she mumbled into her hand.

Elayne nodded. “Those who can learn to become Aes Sedai will have the chance, and there will be a place for all. For any woman who channels.”