A Crown of Swords (90 page)

Covarla stood slowly, as if uncertain she should. Her hands tightened on the red-fringed shawl looped over her arms. “Katerine is among the missing, Mother. I stand highest among those who. . . .” Her words trailed off as Elaida stared at her, fingers frozen in the act of passing wool over one of the needles. Covarla swallowed and shifted her feet.

“How many, daughter?” Elaida asked finally. She could not believe her voice was so calm.

“I cannot say how many escaped, Mother,” Covarla said hesitantly. “We dared not wait to make a thorough search, and—”

“How many?” Elaida shouted. With a shudder, she made herself concentrate on her knitting; giving way to anger was weakness. Loop the yarn, pull through and push down. Soothing motions.

“I—I brought eleven other sisters with me, Mother.” The woman
paused, breathing hard, and then, when Elaida said nothing, rushed on. “Others may be making their way back, Mother. Gawyn refused to wait longer, and we dared not remain without him and his Younglings, not with so many Aiel about, and the. . . .”

Elaida did not hear. Twelve returned. Had any more escaped, they would have sped back to Tar Valon, would have been here as soon as Covarla, surely. Even if one or two were injured, traveling slowly. . . . Twelve out of thirty-nine. The Tower had not suffered a disaster of this magnitude even during the Trolloc Wars.

“These Aiel wilders must be taught a lesson,” she said, trampling over whatever Covarla was babbling. Galina had thought she could use Aiel to divert Aiel; what a fool the woman had been! “We will rescue the sisters they hold prisoner, and teach them what it means to defy Aes Sedai! And we will take al’Thor again.” She would not let him get away, not if she had to personally lead the entire White Tower to take him! The Foretelling had been certain. She
would
triumph!

Casting an uneasy glance at Alviarin, Covarla shifted her feet again. “Mother, those men—I think—”

“Do not think!” Elaida snapped. Her hands clasped the knitting needles convulsively, and she leaned forward so fiercely that Covarla actually raised a hand as though to fend off an attack. Alviarin’s presence had slipped from Elaida’s mind. Well, the woman knew what she knew, now; that could be dealt with later. “You have maintained secrecy, Covarla? Aside from informing the Keeper?”

“Oh, yes, Mother,” Covarla said hastily. Her head bobbed with eagerness, glad that she had done something right. “I entered the city alone, and hid my face until I reached Alviarin. Gawyn meant to accompany me, but the bridge guards refused to let any member of the Younglings pass.”

“Forget Gawyn Trakand,” Elaida ordered sourly. That young man remained alive to trouble her plans, it seemed. If Galina did turn out to be alive still, she would pay for failing in that, on top of letting al’Thor escape. “You will leave the city as circumspectly as you entered, daughter, and keep yourself and the others well hidden in one of the villages beyond the bridge towns until I send for you. Dorlan will do nicely.” They would have to sleep in barns in that tiny hamlet, which had no inn; the least their bungling deserved. “Go, now. And pray that someone above you does arrive soon. The Hall will demand amends for this unparalleled catastrophe, and at the moment, it seems you stand highest among those at fault. Go!”

Covarla’s face went white. She tottered so making her curtsy to leave,
Elaida thought she might fall. Bunglers! She was surrounded by fools, traitors and bunglers!

As soon as Elaida heard the outer door close, she hurled down her knitting and sprang to her feet, rounding on Alviarin. “Why have I not heard of this before? If al’Thor escaped—what was it you said? seven days ago?—if he escaped seven days ago, someone’s eyes-and-ears must have seen him. Why was I not informed?”

“I can only pass on to you what the Ajahs pass to me, Mother.” Alviarin adjusted her stole calmly, not a whit ruffled. “Do you really mean to court a third debacle by attempting to rescue the captives?”

Elaida sniffed dismissively. “Do you really believe wilders can stand before Aes Sedai? Galina let herself be surprised; she must have.” She frowned. “What do you mean, a
third
debacle?”

“You didn’t listen, Mother.” Shockingly, Alviarin sat without being given permission, crossing her knees and serenely arranging her skirts. “Covarla thought they might have held out against the wilders—though I believe she is nowhere near as certain as she tried to pretend—but the men were another matter. Several hundred of them in black coats, all channeling. She was very certain of that, and so are the others, apparently. Living weapons, she called them. I think she nearly soiled herself just remembering.”

Elaida stood as if poleaxed. Several hundred? “Impossible. There can’t be more than—” She walked to a table that seemed all ivory and gilt, and poured herself a goblet of wine punch. The lip of the crystal pitcher rattled against the crystal goblet, and almost as much punch went onto the golden tray.

“Since al’Thor can Travel,” Alviarin said suddenly, “it seems logical at least that some of these men can, too. Covarla is quite sure that was how they arrived. I suppose he is rather upset at his treatment. Covarla seemed somewhat uneasy about it; she implied that a number of the sisters were. He might feel he owes you something. It would not be pleasant to have those men suddenly stepping out of thin air right here in the Tower, would it?”

Elaida practically tossed the punch down her throat. Galina had been instructed to begin making al’Thor supple. If he came for revenge. . . . If  there really were hundreds of men who could channel, or even one hundred. . . . She had to think!

“Of course, if they were coming, I believe they would have by now. They would not have wasted surprise. Perhaps even al’Thor doesn’t wish to confront the full Tower. I suppose they have all returned to Caemlyn, to their Black Tower. Which means, I fear, that Toveine has a most unpleasant shock awaiting her.”

“Pen an order for her to return immediately,” Elaida said hoarsely. The punch did not seem to help. She turned, and gave a start to find Alviarin right in front of her. Maybe there were not even one hundred—not
even
one hundred? at sunset,
ten
would have seemed madness—but she could not take the chance. “Write it out yourself, Alviarin. Now; right now.”

“And how is it to be gotten to her?” Alviarin tilted her head, icily curious. For some reason, she wore a faint smile. “None of us can Travel. The ships will put Toveine and her party ashore in Andor any day now, if they have not already. You told her to divide into small groups and avoid villages, so as to give no warning. No, Elaida, I am afraid Toveine will regather her forces near Caemlyn and attack the Black Tower without any word from us reaching her.”

Elaida gasped. The woman had just called her by name! And before she could begin to splutter with outrage, worse came.

“I think you are in great trouble, Elaida.” Cold eyes stared into Elaida’s and cold words slid smoothly from Alviarin’s smiling lips. “Sooner or later, the Hall will learn of the disaster with al’Thor. Galina might have satisfied the Hall, possibly, but I doubt Covarla will; they will want someone . . . higher . . . to pay. And sooner or later, we will all learn Toveine’s fate. It will be difficult to keep this on your shoulders then.” Casually, she adjusted the Amyrlin’s stole around Elaida’s neck. “In fact, it will be impossible if they learn any time soon. You will be stilled, made an example, the way you wanted to make Siuan Sanche. But there might be time to recover, if you listen to your Keeper. You must take good advice.”

Elaida’s tongue felt frozen. The threat could not have been clearer. “What you have heard tonight is Sealed to the Flame,” she said thickly, but she knew that the words were useless before they were out of her mouth.

“If you mean to reject my advice. . . .” Alviarin paused, then began to turn away.

“Wait!” Elaida pulled down the hand she had stretched out unaware. Stripped of the stole. Stilled. Even after that, they would make her howl. “What—?” She had to stop and swallow. “What advice does my Keeper offer?” There had to be some way to stop this.

Sighing, Alviarin came close again. Closer, in fact; much too near for anyone to stand to the Amyrlin, their skirts almost touching. “First, I fear you must abandon Toveine to whatever comes, for the moment at least. And also Galina and whoever else was taken prisoner, whether by the Aiel or the Asha’man. Any attempted rescue now must mean discovery.”

Elaida nodded slowly. “Yes. I can see that.” She could not take her horrified
eyes away from the other woman’s demanding gaze. There had to be a way! This could not be happening!

“And I think it is time to reconsider your decision about the Tower Guard. Don’t you really think the Guard should be increased after all?”

“I—can see my way clear to do that.” Light, she had to think!

“So good,” Alviarin murmured, and Elaida flushed with helpless rage. “Tomorrow, you will personally search Josaine’s rooms, and Adelorna’s.”

“Why under the Light would I—?”

The woman tugged her striped stole again, roughly this time, almost as if to yank it off or saw through her neck with it. “It seems that Josaine found an
angreal
some years ago and never turned it in. Adelorna did worse, I fear. She removed an
angreal
from one of the storerooms without permission. When you have found them, you will announce their punishment immediately. Something quite stiff. And at the same time you will hold up Doraise, Kiyoshi and Farellien as models of preserving the law. You will give each a present; a fine new horse will do.”

Elaida wondered whether her eyes were going to pop right out of her face. “Why?” From time to time a sister kept an
angreal
to herself in defiance of the law, but the penance was seldom more than a stern slap on the knuckles. Every sister knew the temptation. And the rest! The effect was obvious. Everyone would believe Doraise and Kiyoshi and Farellien had exposed the other two. Josaine and Adelorna were Green, the others Brown, Gray and Yellow respectively. The Green Ajah would be furious. They might even try to get back at the others, which would incite those Ajahs, and. . . . “Why do you want to do this, Alviarin?”

“Elaida, it should be enough for you that it is my advice.” Mocking, honeyed ice suddenly turned to cold iron. “I want to hear you say that you will do as you are told. There’s no point in me working to keep the stole on your neck, otherwise. Say it!”

“I—” Elaida tried to look away. Oh, Light, she had to think! Her belly was clenched in a knot. “I will—do—as I—am told.”

Alviarin smiled that chilly smile. “You see, that did not hurt very much.” Suddenly she stepped back, spreading her skirts in a moderate curtsy. “With your permission, I will withdraw and let you find some sleep in what remains of the night. You have an early morning ahead, with orders to issue for High Captain Chubain and apartments to search. We have to decide when to let the Tower know about the Asha’man, too.” Her tone made it clear that she would decide. “And perhaps we should begin planning our next move against al’Thor. It is about time the Tower stood
openly and called him to heel, don’t you think? Think well. I give you good night, Elaida.”

Dazed, wanting to sick up, Elaida watched her go. Stand openly? That would invite attack by these—what had the woman called them?—these Asha’man. This could not be happening to her. Not to her! Before she realized what she was doing, she hurled the goblet across the room to shatter against a tapestry of flowers. Seizing the pitcher with both hands, she raised it overhead with a shriek of fury and flung that too, in a spray of punch. The Foretelling had been so certain! She would . . . !

Abruptly she stopped, frowning at the tiny shards of crystals clinging to the tapestry, the larger pieces scattered across the floor. The Foretelling. Surely that had spoken of her triumph.
Her
triumph! Alviarin might have her minor victory, but the future belonged to Elaida. As long as Alviarin could be gotten rid of. But it had to be done quietly, in some way so that even the Hall would want silence. A way that would not point to Elaida until it was too late, should Alviarin’s sails gain wind. And suddenly the why came to her. Alviarin would not believe if she was told. No one would.

Could Alviarin have seen her smile then, the woman’s knees would have turned to jelly. Before she was done, Alviarin would envy Galina, alive or dead.

Pausing in the hallway outside Elaida’s apartments, Alviarin studied her hands by the light of the stand-lamps. They did not shake, which surprised her. She had expected the woman to fight harder, to resist longer. But it was begun, and she had nothing to fear. Unless Elaida learned that no fewer than five Ajahs had passed mention of al’Thor to her in the last few days; the deposing of Colavaere had sent every Ajah’s agent in Cairhien flying for a pen. No, if Elaida did learn, she was safe enough, with the hold she had on the woman now. And with Mesaana as patron. Elaida, though, was finished whether she realized or not. Even if the Asha’man failed to trumpet their crushing of Toveine’s expedition—and she was sure they would crush it, after what Mesaana had told her of events of Dumai’s Wells—all the eyes-and-ears in Caemlyn truly would gain wings once they learned. Lacking a miracle, such as the rebels appearing at the gates, Elaida would suffer Siuan Sanche’s fate in a matter of weeks. In any case, it had begun, and if she wished she knew what “it” was, all she really had to
do was obey. And watch. And learn. Perhaps she would wear the seven-striped stole herself when all was done.

In the early morning sunlight streaming through her windows, Seaine dipped the pen, but before she could write the next word, the door to the hall opened and the Amyrlin swept in. Seaine’s thick black eyebrows rose; she would have expected anyone else at all before Elaida, perhaps not excluding Rand al’Thor himself. Still, she set the pen down and rose smoothly, pulling down the silver-white sleeves she had pushed up to keep clear of the ink. She made the degree of curtsy proper to the Amyrlin Seat from a Sitter in her own apartments.

“I do hope you haven’t found any White sisters hiding away
angreal
, Mother.” She did hope it, quite fervently. Elaida’s descent on the Greens a few hours ago, while most of them slept, was probably still producing wails and gnashing of teeth. In living memory no one had been ordered birched for keeping back an
angreal
, and now there were to be two. The Amyrlin must have been in one of her infamous cold furies.