Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6)

Lord of Chaos (The Wheel of Time #6) Page 161

“The child has spirit,” Sorilea laughed as soon as Berelain was gone. Reclining on the cushions again, she patted the space next to her for Egwene. “We should find the right husband for her, a man to match her. If such exists among wetlanders.”

Wiping her hands and face with the damp cloth Rodera brought, Egwene wondered whether that was enough opening to ask about Berelain in good honor. She accepted a teacup of green Sea Folk porcelain and took her place in the circle of Wise Ones. If one of the others responded to Sorilea, that might be enough.

“Are you certain these Aes Sedai mean harm to the Car’a’carn?” Amys asked instead.

Egwene colored. Thinking about gossip when there were important matters to attend. “Yes,” she replied quickly, then more slowly, “At least. . . . I don’t know that they mean to harm him, exactly. Not intentionally, anyway.” Elaida’s letter had mentioned “all the honor and respect” he deserved. How much did a former Red sister think any man who could channel deserved? “But I don’t doubt they will want to control him somehow, make him do what Elaida wants. They aren’t his friends.” How much were the Salidar Aes Sedai his friends? Light, she needed to talk with Nynaeve and Elayne. “And they will not care that he is the Car’a’carn.” Sorilea grunted sourly.

“You believe they will try to harm you?” Bair asked, and Egwene nodded.

“If they discover I’m here. . . .” She tried to cover a shiver by sipping her mint tea. Whether as a handle on Rand or as an unsupervised Accepted, they would do their best to haul her back to the Tower. “They’ll not leave me free if they can help it. Elaida will not want Rand listening to anyone but her.” Bair and Amys exchanged grim looks.

“Then the answer is simple.” Sorilea sounded as if it had all been decided. “You will stay among the tents, and they will not find you. Wise Ones avoid Aes Sedai, in any case. If you remain with us a few more years, we will make a fine Wise One of you.”

Egwene almost dropped her cup. “You flatter me,” she said carefully, “but sooner or later, I will have to go.” Sorilea did not look convinced. Egwene had learned to hold her own with Amys and Bair, after a fashion, but Sorilea. . . .

“Not soon, I think,” Bair told her, with a smile to take the sting out. “You have much to learn yet.”

“Yes, and eager to get back to it,” Amys added. Egwene struggled not to blush, and Amys frowned. “You look odd. Did you overuse yourself this morning? I was sure you had recovered enough—”

“I have,” Egwene said hastily. “Truly, I have. I haven’t had a headache in days. It was the dust, running back here. And the crowd in the city was more than I remembered. And I was so excited, I didn’t breakfast very well.”

Sorilea motioned to Rodera. “Bring some honeybread, if there is any, and cheese, and any fruit you can find.” She poked Egwene in the ribs. “A woman should have some flesh to her.” That from a woman who looked as if she had been left in the sun till most of her flesh had dried away.

Egwene did not really mind eating—she had been too excited to eat this morning—but Sorilea watched every bite go down, and her scrutiny made swallowing a little difficult. That and the fact that they wanted to discuss what to do about the Aes Sedai. If the Aes Sedai were hostile to Rand, they would have to be watched, and a way found to safeguard him. Even Sorilea was a bit edgy about the possibility that they might be putting themselves against Aes Sedai directly—not afraid; it was going against custom that made them uneasy—but whatever was necessary to protect the Car’a’carn had to be done.

For Egwene’s part, she worried that they might turn Sorilea’s suggestion that she remain among the tents into a command. There would be no way to evade that one, no way to avoid fifty eyes except by staying inside her own tent. How did Rand Travel? The Wise Ones would do whatever was necessary, so long as it did not touch ji’e’toh: Wise Ones might interpret it differently here and there, but they held to their interpretation as tightly as any other Aiel. Light, Rodera was Shaido, one of thousands captured in the battle that drove the Shaido away from the city, but the Wise Ones treated her no differently than any other gai’shain, and as far as Egwene could see, Rodera behaved no differently than any other gai’shain, not in the slightest. They would not go against ji’e’toh, no matter how necessary it might be.

Fortunately the subject did not come up. Unfortunately, the question of her health did. The Wise Ones did not know Healing, or how to check someone’s health with the Power. Instead, they tested with their own methods. Some seemed familiar from when she had studied under Nynaeve to become a Wisdom: peering into her eyes, listening to her heart through a hollow wooden tube. Some were distinctly Aiel. She touched her toes until she felt dizzy, jumped up and down in one place until she thought her eyes would bounce out of her head, and ran around the Wise One’s tents until spots swam before her, then had water poured over her head by a gai’shain, drank as much as she could hold, gathered up her skirts, and ran some more. Aiel were great believers in hardiness. Had she been a step too slow, had she staggered to a halt before Amys said she could, they would have decided her health was not sufficiently recovered after all.

When Sorilea finally nodded and said, “You are as sound as a Maiden, girl,” Egwene was swaying and gulping for air. A Maiden would not have been, she was sure. Still, she felt pride. She had never thought of herself as soft, but she knew very well that before she began living with the Aiel she would have fallen on her face halfway through the test. Another year, she thought, and I will run as well as any Far Dareis Mai.

On the other hand, she was hardly up to returning to the city. She joined the Wise Ones in their sweat tent—for once they did not make her pour water over the hot rocks; Rodera did that—luxuriating in the damp heat as it relaxed her muscles, and only left because Rhuarc and two other clan chiefs, Timolan of the Miagoma and Indirian of the Codarra, joined them, tall massive graying men with hard sober faces. That sent her diving out of the tent to hastily wrap her shawl around her. She always expected to hear laughter when she did that, but the Aiel never seemed to understand why she hurried from the sweat tent whenever men came in. It would have fit right into Aiel humor if they had, but luckily they just did not make the connection, fo