Sheriam’s face altered only slightly, just a tightening around those tilted eyes so small that it barely disturbed her apparent serenity. Egwene could almost see the question wanting to pop out, though. What had she said to Mat that she did not want to talk about? What promises had she made that Sheriam was going to have to rescue her from without losing ground to Romanda or Lelaine?
All Sheriam did was say a few words to someone outside, and when she regained her seat, Egwene gave her no opportunity to open her mouth. Instead, she hit her right between the eyes. So to speak. “It seems Mat is the commander, Sheriam, and in a way, the army is the message. Apparently, Rand would like us all to come to him in Caemlyn. There was some mention of oaths of fealty.”
Sheriam’s head came up, eyes widening. Only partly in outrage at such a suggestion, though. There was a definite tinge of . . . well, in anyone but an Aes Sedai, Egwene would have called it fear. Very understandable, if so. If she had promised that — and she was from the same village; one of her uses as Amyrlin was that she had grown up with Rand — it would be a bottomless mire to get out of. Word would spread no matter what Sheriam did; some of the Hall might well blame it on her, or use it as a pretext, anyway. Romanda and Lelaine were not the only Sitters to have cautioned Egwene about following Sheriam’s advice without consulting the Hall. In truth, Delana was the only one who really seemed to support Sheriam fully, but she counseled listening to Romanda and Lelaine as well, as if it were really possible to go in three directions at once. And even could the Hall be managed, once news of the promise reached Rand, and of its withdrawal, he would be ten times harder to handle. A hundred times.
Egwene only waited until Sheriam’s lips parted, then spoke first again. “Of course, I told him it was ridiculous.”
“Of course.” Sheriam’s voice was not quite as steady as it had been. Very good.
“But you are quite right. The situation is delicate. It’s such a pity. Your advice on how to deal with Romanda and Lelaine was good, but I don’t think increasing preparations to move will be enough now.”
Romanda had cornered her and grimly lectured her on haste leading to ruin; Gareth Bryne’s army must be made larger, large enough for news of its size to intimidate Elaida. And by the way, Romanda could not emphasize strongly enough once again that the embassies to rulers must be recalled; none but Aes Sedai should be allowed to learn any more of troubles in the Tower than could be avoided. Lelaine cared about neither Lord Bryne’s army nor rulers — both were irrelevant — though she did counsel caution and waiting. The proper approaches to Aes Sedai still in the Tower would surely yield dividends; Elaida could be removed from the Amyrlin Seat and Egwene installed in such a fashion th
at none but a very few sisters would ever be certain what had actually happened. In time, the fact that the White Tower had ever been broken would be taken for no more than a country tale. It might even have worked, if they had had enough time. If waiting did not give Elaida just as much chance to work on sisters here.
The other difference with Lelaine was she had said everything with a smile that would have done very well for a pet novice or Accepted she was very proud of. Egwene’s rediscovery of Traveling caused a lot of Aes Sedai to smile, though only a handful were strong enough to make a gateway larger than they could put an arm through and most not even that. Romanda wanted to use gateways to remove the Oath Rod and certain other items — Egwene was not told exactly what — from the Tower so they could make true Aes Sedai in Salidar while depriving Elaida of the ability; surely Egwene wanted to be truly Aes Sedai. Lelaine agreed about that last, but not about using gateways in the Tower; there was too much chance they might be detected, and if those in the Tower learned to Travel, too much advantage would be lost. Those points had carried considerable weight with the Hall, which did not please Romanda at all.
Sheriam had smiled too, over agreeing with Lelaine about something, but she was not smiling now. “Mother, I am not sure I understand,” she said, much too tolerantly. “Preparations are certainly enough to show the Hall you will not be bullied. Moving before everything is in place could be disastrous.”
Egwene managed to put on a disingenuous expression. “I understand, Sheriam. I don’t know what I would do without your advice.” How she looked forward to the day she could stop this. Sheriam would make a very good Keeper — she might even have made a good Amyrlin — but Egwene was going to enjoy the day she could teach the woman that she was Keeper, not Amyrlin. Sheriam and the Hall. “It’s just that now Mat has this army of Dragonsworn on our doorstep. What will Lord Bryne do? Or some of his soldiers, on their own? Everybody talks about how he wanted to send men to hunt these Dragonsworn who are supposed to be burning villages. I know he has been told to keep a tight rein on them, but . . . “
“Lord Gareth will do exactly as we — as you — command, and no more.”
“Perhaps.” He was not so happy with that tight rein as Sheriam believed. Siuan spent a great deal of time with Gareth Bryne for all her grumbling about the man, and he told her things. Egwene could not afford to give away Siuan’s allegiance, though. “I hope the same can be said for every one of his soldiers. We cannot move west into Amadicia, but I thought perhaps we could go downriver, to Ebou Dar. Maybe by gateway. Surely Aes Sedai are welcome there. Lord Bryne could camp outside the city. Moving would emphasize that we aren’t going to accept Rand’s . . . offer, if it can be called that. And if we are going to make more preparations, I’m sure we would find everything much easier to accomplish in a large city, with roads and ships in and out of the harbor.”
Sheriam’s control slipped again, to the extent of a breathiness in her voice. “Ebou Dar is not so welcoming as that, Mother. A few sisters are quite different from a few hundred, with an army at their backs. Mother, even a hint of that might make Tylin think we meant to seize the city. Tylin, and a good many Altaran nobles who would like nothing better than an excuse to topple her and take the Throne of the Winds for themselves. A tangle of that kind would ruin us with every ruler. No, Mother, it is quite out of the question.”
“But do we dare remain here now? Mat won’t do anything, but all it needs is a handful of Lord Bryne’s soldiers deciding to take matters into their own hands.” Egwene frowned at her skirts, smoothed them as if thinking worriedly, then sighed. “The longer we sit and do nothing with an army of Dragonsworn staring at us, the worse it will be. I won’t be surprised to hear rumors they mean to attack us, and people saying we should do for them first.” If this did not work, there would be rumors. Nynaeve and Elayne and Siuan and Leane would see to that. It would be dangerous, but she could find some way to make Mat retreat before sparks flew if it came to that. “Why, the way rumors spread, I wouldn’t be surprised if half of Altara thinks we are Dragonsworn in under a month.” That was one rumor she would have stopped if she knew how. The Hall no longer brought nobles to see Logain since he was Healed, but Bryne’s recruiters still went out, and parties of Aes Sedai hunting new novices, and men to make the long trek to the nearest villages with their carts and wagons to buy food. A hundred paths for that rumor to take, and it only needed one. “Sheriam, I can’t help feeling we are in a box, and if we don’t get out of it, nothing good will come. Nothing at all good.”
“The answer is to send the Dragonsworn away,” Sheriam said, not so patiently as before. “I regret letting Mat out of our hands again, but I fear there’s no answer for it. You’ve told him the offer is refused; tell him to go.”
“I wish it were that simple. I don’t think he will for asking, Sheriam. He implied he was to wait right where he is until something happens. He could be expecting orders from Rand, or even Rand himself. There was a rumor in Cairhien that he’s taken to sometimes Traveling with some of those men he’s gathered. The ones he’s teaching to channel? I do not know what we will do if that happens.”
Sheriam stared at her, breathing quite heavily for someone with such calm features.
A scratching at the door was followed by Tabitha with a beaten silver tray. Not catching the mood, she fussed about setting the green porcelain teapot and cups just so, the silver honeypot and small pitcher of cream and lace-edged linen napkins, until Sheriam finally snapped at her so fiercely to be about her work that Tabitha squeaked and dropped a wide-eyed curtsy that nearly put her head on the floor and ran.
For a moment Sheriam busied herself smoothing her skirts while she regained her composure. “Perhaps,” she said finally, reluctantly, “it might be necessary for us to leave Salidar after all. Sooner than I could wish.”
“But the only way left is north.” Egwene widened her eyes. Light, but she hated this! “It will seem we’re moving toward Tar Valon.”
“I know that,” Sheriam almost snapped. Drawing breath, she moderated her tone. “Forgive me, Mother. I feel a little . . . I do not like being forced into things, and I fear Rand al’Thor has forced our hand before we are ready.”
“I will speak quite severely when I see him,” Egwene said. “I can hardly think what I would do without your advice:” Perhaps she could find a way to send Sheriam to study with the Wise Ones as an apprentice. The thought of Sheriam after, say, half a year with Sorilea made her smile so that Sheriam actually smiled back. “Honey or bitter?” Egwene said, lifting the teapot.
Chapter 40
Unexpected Laughter
* * *
You have to help me talk some sense into them,” Mat said around his pipestem. “Thom, are you listening?”
They were seated on upended kegs in the scant shade of a two-story house, smoking their pipes, and the lanky old gleeman seemed more interested in staring at the letter Rand had sent on to him. Now he stuffed it into his coat pocket with the tree-and-crown seal yet unbroken. The buzz of voices and squeak of axles from the street at the end of the alley seemed distant. Sweat dripped from both their faces. At least one thing was taken care of for the moment. Mat had come out of the Little Tower to find that a group of Aes Sedai had hauled Aviendha away somewhere; she would not be sticking a knife in anybody any time soon.
Thom took his pipe from his mouth. It was a long-stemmed thing, carved all over with oak leaves and acorns. “I once tried to rescue a woman, Mat. Laritha was a rose in bud, and married to a glowering brute of a bootmaker in a village where I broke my journey for a few days. A brute. He shouted at her if dinner wasn’t ready when he wanted to sit down, and took a switch to her if he saw her say more than two words to another man.”
“Thom, what in the Pit of Doom does this have to do with making those fool women see sense?”