"Gawyn," Birgitte said suddenly. Her expression had lightened, and so had the emotions flowing though the bond. Relief stood out strong, "When he comes, he'll take command. He'll be your First Prince of the Sword."
"Mother's milk in a cup." Elayne snapped, and lightning flared in the windows for emphasis. Why did the woman have to change the subject now? Dyelin gave a start, and heat flooded back into Elayne's face. By the older woman's gaping mouth, she knew exactly how coarse that curse was. Strangely embarrassing, that; it should not have counted for anything that Dyelin had been her mother's friend, Unthinking, she took a deep swallow of wine - and nearly gagged at the bitterness. Quickly she suppressed images of Lini threatening to wash out her mouth and reminded herself that she was a grown woman with a throne to win. She doubted her mother had ever found herself feeling foolish so often.
'Yes, he will, Birgitte," she went on, more calmly. "When he comes." Three couriers were on their way to Tar Valon. Even if none managed to get past Elaida, Gawyn would learn eventually that she had made her claim, and he would come. She needed him desperately. She had no illusions of herself as a general, and Birgitte was so fearful she could not live up to the legends about her that sometimes she seemed afraid to try, Face an army, yes; lead an army, never under the sun!
Birgitte was well aware of the tangle in her own mind. Right that moment her face was frozen, but her emotions were full of self-anger and embarrassment, with the first growing stronger by the moment, With a stab of irritation, Elayne opened her mouth to pursue Dyelin's mention of civil war before she began reflecting Birgitte's anger.
Before she could utter a word, though, the tall red doors opened. Her hopes for Nynaeve or Vandene were dashed by the entrance of two Sea Folk women, barefoot despite the weather.
A cloud of musky perfume wafted ahead of them, and by themselves they made up a procession in bright brocaded silk trousers and blouses, jewelled daggers and necklaces of gold and ivory. And other jewellery. Straight black hair with white at the temples nearly hid the ten small, fat golden rings in Renaile din Calon's ears, but the arrogance in her dark eyes was as plain as the medallion-laden golden chain that connected one earring to her nose ring, Her face was set, and despite a graceful sway to her walk, she appeared ready to stride through a wall. Nearly a hand shorter than her companion and darker than charcoal, Zaida din Parede wore half again as many golden medallions dangling on her left cheek and carried an air of command rather than arrogance, a sure certainty that she would be obeyed. Gray flecked her cap of tight black curls, yet she was stunning, one of those women who grew more and more beautiful as they aged.
Dyelin flinched at sight of them, and half raised a hand to her nose before she could stop herself. A common enough reaction in people unused to the Atha'an Miere. Elayne grimaced, and nor for their nose rings. She even considered another curse, something still more... pungent. Excepting the Forsaken, she could not have named two people she wanted less to see right then. Reene was supposed to see this did not happen!
"Forgive me," she said, rising smoothly, "but I am very busy, now, Matters of state, you understand, or I would greet you as your stations deserve." The Sea Folk were sticklers for ceremony and propriety, at least on their own terms. Very likely they had gotten past the First Maid by simply not telling her they wanted to see Elayne, but they easily might take offense if she greeted them sitting before the crown was hers. And, the Light burn both of them, she could not afford to offend. Birgitte appeared at her side, bowing formally to take her cup; the Warder bond carried wariness. She was always ginger around the Sea Folk; she had let her tongue slip around them, too, "I will see you later in the day," Elayne finished, adding, "The Light willing." They also were great ones for ceremonial turns of phrase, and that one showed courtesy and gave a way out.
Renaile did not stop until she stood right in front of Elayne, and much too close. One tattooed hand gestured curt permission for her to sit, Permission! "You have been avoiding me." Her voice was deep for a woman, and as chill as the snow falling on the roof. "Remember chat I am Windfinder to Nesta din Reas Two Moons, Mistress of the Ships to the Atha'an Miere. You still must fulfill the rest of the bargain you made for your White Tower." The Sea Folk knew of the division in the Tower - by this time, everyone and her sister knew - but Elayne had not seen fit to add to her difficulties by making public which side she was on. Not yet. Renaile finished on an imperious, commanding note. 'You will deal with me, and now!" So much for ceremony and propriety.
"She has been avoiding me, I think, not you, Windfinder." In contrast to Renaile, Zaida sounded as though she were merely making conversation. Rather than rushing across the carpets, she moved idly about the room, pausing to touch a tall vase of thin green porcelain, then rising on her toes to peer through a four-barreled kaleidoscope atop a tall stand. When she glanced toward Elayne and Renaile, an amused glint twinkled in her black eyes. "After all, the bargain was with Nests din Reas, speaking for the ships." In addition to Wavemistress of Clan Catelar, Zaida was an ambassador from the Mistress of the Ships. To Rand, not Andor, but her warrant gave the authority to speak and bind for Nesta herself. Changing one gold-chased barrel for another, she went on tiptoe to look through the eyepiece again, "You promised the Atha'an Miere twenty teachers, Elayne, So far, you have delivered one."
Their entrance had been so sudden, so dramatic, that Elayne was surprised to see Merilille turn from closing the doors. Shorter still than Zaida, the Gray sister was elegant in dark blue wool trimmed with silvery fur and sewn with small moonstones across the bodice, yet barely more than two weeks teaching the Windfinders had brought changes. Most were powerful women with a thirst for knowledge, more than ready to squeeze Merilille like a grape in the winepress, demanding the last drop of juice. Once, Elayne had thought her self-possessed beyond the ability to surprise, but now Merilille was constantly wide-eyed, her lips always a little parted, as though she had just been startled half out of her wits and expected to be startled again any moment. Folding her hands at her waist, she waited by the doorway, and appeared relieved to be out of the center of attention.
Harrumphing loudly, Dyelin got to her feet and scowled at Zaida and Renaile both. "Have a care how you speak," she growled. 'You are in Andor, now, not on one of your ships, and Elayne Trakand will be Queen of Andor! Your bargain will be met in good time. For now. we have more important matters to contend with."
"Under the Light, there are none more important," Renaile rumbled in turn, rounding on her. "You say the bargain will be met? So you stand surety. Know there will be room to dangle you by your ankles in the rigging as well if -"
Zaida snapped her fingers. That was all, but a tremor passed though Renaile, Snatching the golden scent-box dangling from one of her necklaces, she pressed it to her nose and breathed deeply. Windfinder to the Mistress of the Ships she might be, a woman of great authority and power among the Atha'an Miere, but to Zaida, she was... a Windfinder, Which grated her pride excessively, Elayne was sure there must be a way to use that to keep them out of her hair, but she had not found it, yet. Oh, yes; for good or ill, Daes Dae'mar was in her bones, now.
She glided around a silently furious Renaile as if around a column, a part of the room, though not toward Zaida. If anyone had a right to be casual here, she did, She could not afford to give Zaida a hair of advantage, or the Wavemistress would shave her scalp for the wigmakers.
At the fireplace, she spread her hands in front of the flames again.
"Nesta din Reas trusted we would fulfill the bargain, or she never would have agreed to it," she said calmly. 'You have regained the Bowl of the Winds, but assembling nineteen more sisters to join you requires time. I know you worry about the ships that were at Ebou Dar when the Seanchan came. Have Renaile make a gateway to Tear. There are hundreds of Atha'an Miere vessels there." Every report said so. 'You can learn what they know, and rejoin your people. They will have need of you, against the Seanchan." And she would be rid of them, "The other sisters
will be sent to you as soon as can be arranged." Merilille did not move from the doorway, but her face took on a green tinge of panic at the possibility of being alone among the Sea Folk.
Zaida gave over looking through the kaleidoscope and eyed Elayne sideways. A smile quirked her very full lips, "I must remain here, at least until I speak with Rand al'Thor. If he ever comes." That smile tightened for an instant before blooming once more; Rand would have a hard time with her, "And I will keep Renaile and her companions, for the time. A handed of Windfinders more or less will make no great difference against these Seanchan, and here, the Light willing, they may learn what will be useful." Renaile snorted, just loudly enough to be heard, Zaida frowned briefly and began addling with the eyepiece that stood level with the top of her head. "There are five Aes Sedai here in your palace, counting yourself," she murmured thoughtfully. "Perhaps some of you might teach," As though the idea had just occurred to her. And if that were so, Elayne could lift both Sea Folk women with one hand!
"Oh, yes, that would be wonderful," Merilille burst out, taking a step forward. Then she glanced at Renaile and subsided, a blush suffusing her Cairhienin paleness. Folding her hands at her waist once more, she snatched meekness around herself like a second skin. Birgitte shook her head in amazement. Dyelin stared as if she had never seen the Aes Sedai before.
"Something may be worked out, if the Light pleases," Elayne said cautiously, Not rubbing at her temples took effort. She wished she could blame the ache inside her skull on the incessant thunder. Nynaeve would erupt at the suggestion, and Vandene likely would ignore any such order, but Careane and Sareitha might be possible. "For no more than a few hours a day, you understand, When they have time." She avoided looking at Merilille. Even Careane and Sareitha might rebel at being tossed into that winepress.
Zaida touched the fingers of her right hand to her lips. "It is agreed, under the Light,"
Elayne blinked. That was ominous; in the Wavemistress's eyes, apparently, they had just made another bargain. Her limited experience of dealing with the Atha'an Miere was that you were lucky to walk away with your shift. Well, this time things were going to be different. For instance, what were the sisters to gain in it? There had to be two sides to a bargain, Zaida smiled, as if she knew what Elayne was thinking and was amused. One of the doors opening again was almost a relief, giving her an excuse to turn away from the Sea Folk woman.
Reene Harfor slipped into the room with deference but without servility, and her curtsy was restrained, suitable for the High Seat of a powerful House to her Queen. But then, any High Seat worth a pinch of salt knew enough to offer respect to the First Maid. Her graying hair was arranged in a bun, like a crown atop her head, and she wore a scarlet tabard over her red-and-white dress, with the White Lion of Andor's head resting on her formidable bosom. Reene had no say in who would sit on the throne, but she had adopted full formal dress on the day of Elayne's arrival, as if the Queen already were in residence, Her round face hardened momentarily at sight of the Atha'an Miere women who had bypassed her, but that was all the notice she gave them. For now. They would learn to their cost what incurring the animosity of the Fist Maid entailed.
"Mazrim Taim has come at last, my Lady." Reene managed to make that sound very like "my Queen." "Shall I tell him to wait."
Not beforetime! Elayne muttered in her head. She had summoned the man two days ago! "Yes, Mistress Harfor. Give him wine, The third best, I think. Inform him that I will see him as soon as I -"
Taim strode into the room as though he owned the Palace. She did not need him named. Blue-and-gold Dragons wove round the sleeves of his black coat from elbows to cuffs, in imitation of the Dragons on Rand's arms. Though she suspected he would not appreciate the observation. He was tall, nearly as tall as Rand, with a hooked nose and dark eyes like augurs, a physically powerful man who moved with something of a Warder's deadly grace, but shadows seemed to follow him, as if half the lamps in the room had gone out; not real shadows, but an air of imminent violence that seemed palpable enough to soak up light.
Two more black-coated men followed at his heels, a bald fellow with a long grizzled beard and leering blue eyes, and a younger man, snake-slim and dark-haired, with the sneering arrogance young men often adopted before they learned better. Both wore the silver Sword and red-enameled Dragon on their tall collars. None of the three wore a sword on his hip, though; they did not need swords, Suddenly the sitting room felt smaller, and crowded.
Instinctively, Elayne embraced saidar and reached out to link. Merilille slipped into the circle easily; astoundingly, so did Renaile. A quick glance at the Windfinder lessened her surprise, Her face gray, Renaile was gripping the dagger thrust behind her sash so hard that Elayne could feel the pain in her knuckles through the link, She had been in Caemlyn long enough to be aware of what an Asha'man was.
The men knew someone had embraced saidar, of course, even if they could not see the glow surrounding the three women. The bald man stiffened; the slim young man clenched his fists. They stared with angry eyes. Surely they had seized saidin. Elayne began to regret giving in to reflex, but she was not going to let go of the Source, not now. Taim radiated danger the way a fire gave heat. She drew deeply through the link, to the point where the overwhelming sense of life became sharp, warning prickles. Even those felt ...joyous. With that much of the Power in her, she could lay waste to the Palace, but she wondered whether it was enough to match Taim and the other two, She very much wished she had one of the three angreal they had found in Ebou Dar, now safely locked away with the rest of the things from the cache until she had time to study them again.
Taim shook his head contemptuously, a half-smile flickering across his lips. "Use your eyes." His voice was quiet, but hard and sneering. "There are two Aes Sedai here. Are you afraid of two Aes Sedai? Besides, you don't want to Frighten the Future Queen of Andor." His companions relaxed visibly, then began trying to emulate the unthinking dominance of his stance.
Reene knew nothing of saidar or saidin; she had rounded on the men, scowling, as soon as they entered, Asha'man or no Asha'man, she expected people to behave as they should. She muttered something almost under her breath. Not quite far enough under, though. The words "sneaking rats" were just audible.
The First Maid reddened when she realized everyone in the room had heard, and Elayne got a chance to see Reene Harfor flustered, Which was to say that the woman drew herself up and said, with a grace and dignity any ruler might envy, "Forgive me, my Lady Elayne, but I've been told there are rats infesting the storerooms. Most unusual this time of year, and so many of them. If you will excuse me, I must make sure my orders for ratcatchers and poison baits are being carried out."
"Stay," Elayne told her coolly. Calmly. "Vermin can be dealt with in due time." Two Aes Sedai. He did not realize Renaile could channel, and he had emphasized two. Would just three women give some advantage? Or did it take more? Plainly the Asha'man knew of some advantage to women in numbers less than a circle of thirteen. Walk in on her without so much as a by-your-leave, would they? "You can show these goodmen out when I'm done with them," Taim's companions scowled at being called "goodmen," but the man himself merely flashed another of those almost-smiles. He was quick enough to know she had been thinking of him when she spoke of vermin. Light! Maybe Rand had needed this man once, but why would he keep him now, and in a position of such authority? Well, his authority counted for nothing here.
Unhurriedly, she took her chair again, and gave a moment to adjusting her skirts. The men would have to come around in front of her like supplicants, or else talk to the side of her head while she refused to look at them. For an instant she considered passing control of the small circle. The Asha'man would surely focus their attention on her. Renaile was still gray, though, anger and Fear tumbling over one another inside her; she might strike our as soon as the link was hers. Merilille had some fear, just under control, mixed with a very great deal of a... goosey... feeling that matched her wide eyes and pa
rted lips; the Light alone knew what she might do with the link.
Dyelin glided to the side of Elayne's chair, as if to shield her from the Asha'man. Whatever lay inside the High Seat of Taravin, her face was stern, unfrightened. The other women had wasted no time in preparing as best they could, Zaida stood very still beside the kaleidoscope, doing her best to look diminutive and harmless, but her hands were behind her back and the dagger was missing from behind her sash. Birgitte lounged beside the fireplace, left hand propped on the jamb, seemingly at her ease, but the sheath of her belt knife was empty, and from the way her other hand rested by her side, she was ready for an underhand throw, The bond carried... focus. Arrow nocked, drawn to cheek, ready to loose.
Elayne made no effort to look around Dyelin at the three men, "First you are too slow obeying my summons, Master Taim, and then too sudden," Light, was he holding saidin? There were methods of interfering with a man channeling short of shielding him, but it was a difficult skill, chancy, and she knew little more than the theory.
He did come in front of her, several paces off, but he did not look a supplicant. Mazrim Taim knew who he was and his own worth, though he plainly set it higher than the sky. Lightning flashing in the windows sent strange lights across his face, Many would feel overawed by him, even without his fancy coat or his infamous name. She did not. She would not!
Taim rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I understand you've taken down the Dragon banners all over Caemlyn, Mistress
Elayne." There was amusement in his deep voice, if none in his eyes! Dyelin hissed in fury at the slight to Elayne, but he ignored her. "The Saldaeans have withdrawn to the Legion of the Dragon's camp, I hear, and soon the last of the Aiel will be in camps outside the city, as well. What will he say when he learns?" There was no doubt who he meant. "And after he's sent you a gift, too. From the south. I'll have it delivered later."