“It is several nights before your agreed meeting in Tel’aran’rhiod,” Amys said. “With Nynaeve, this time.”
“That one could learn much,” Bair put in, “if she were not so stubborn.”
“Your nights are free until then,” Melaine said. “That is, unless you have been entering Tel’aran’rhiod without us.”
Egwene suspected what was coming. “Of course not,” she told them. It had only been a little. Any more than a little, and they would find out for sure.
“Have you succeeded in finding either Nynaeve’s or Elayne’s dreams?” Amys asked. Casually, as if it were nothing.
“No, Amys.”
Finding someone else’s dreams was a lot harder than stepping into Tel’aran’rhiod, the World of Dreams, especially if they were any distance away. It was easier both the closer they were and the better you knew them. The Wise Ones still demanded that she not enter Tel’aran’rhiod without at least one of them along, but someone else’s dream was maybe just as dangerous in its own way. In Tel’aran’rhiod she was in control of herself and of things around her to a large degree, unless one of the Wise Ones decided to take over; her command of Tel’aran’rhiod was increasing, but she still could not match any of them, with their long experience. In another’s dream, though, you were a part of that dream; it took all you could muster not to behave as the dreamer wanted, be as their dream took you, and still sometimes it did not work. The Wise Ones had been very careful when watching Rand’s dreams never to enter fully. Even so they insisted she learn. If they were to teach dreamwalking, they meant to teach all that they knew of it.
She was not reluctant, exactly, but the few times they had let her practice, with themselves and once with Rhuarc, had been chastening experiences. The Wise Ones had some considerable mastery over their own dreams, so what had happened there—to show her the dangers, they said—had all been their doing, but it had been a shock to learn that Rhuarc saw her as a little more than a child, like his youngest daughters. And her own control had wavered for one fatal moment. After that she had been little more than a child; she still could not look at the man without remembering being given a doll for studying hard. And being as pleased with the gift as with his approval. Amys had had to come and take her away from happy play with it. Amys knowing was bad enough, but she suspected that Rhuarc remembered some of it, too.
“You must keep trying,” Amys said. “You have the strength to reach them, even as far as they are. And it will do you no harm to learn how they see you.”
She was not so sure of that herself. Elayne was a friend, but Nynaeve had been Wisdom of Emond’s Field for most of her growing up. She suspected Nynaeve’s dreams would be worse than Rhuarc’s.
“Tonight
I will sleep away from the tents,” Amys went on. “Not far. You should be able to find me easily, if you try. If I do not dream of you, we will speak of it in the morning.”
Egwene suppressed a groan. Amys had guided her to Rhuarc’s dreams—she herself had remained only an instant, barely long enough to reveal that Rhuarc still saw her, unchanged, as the young woman he had married—and the Wise Ones had always been in the same tent before when she tried.
“Well,” Bair said, rubbing her hands, “we have heard what needed to be heard. The rest of you can remain if you wish, but I feel clean enough to go to my blankets. I am not so young as the rest of you.” Young or not, she could probably run any of them into the ground, then carry them the rest of the way.
As Bair was getting to her feet, Melaine spoke, and strangely for her, she was hesitant. “I need . . . I must ask your help, Bair. And you, Amys.” The older woman settled back, and both she and Amys looked at Melaine expectantly. “I . . . would ask you to approach Dorindha for me.” The last words came out in a rush. Amys smiled widely, and Bair cackled aloud. Aviendha seemed to understand, too, and be startled, but Egwene was lost.
Then Bair laughed. “You always said you did not need a husband and did not want one. I have buried three, and would not mind another. They are very useful when the night is cold.”
“A woman can change her mind.” Melaine’s voice was firm enough, but belied by the deep flush in her cheeks. “I cannot stay away from Bael, and I cannot kill him. If Dorindha will accept me as her sister-wife, I will make my bridal wreath to lay at Bael’s feet.”
“What if he steps on it instead of picking it up?” Bair wanted to know. Amys fell back, laughing and slapping her thighs.
Egwene did not think there was much danger of that, not the way Aiel customs ran. If Dorindha decided she wanted Melaine for sister-wife, Bael would not have much say in the matter. It no longer shocked her, precisely, that a man could have two wives. Not exactly. Different lands mean different customs, she reminded herself firmly. She had never been able to bring herself to ask, but for all she knew, there might be Aiel women with two husbands. They were very strange people.
“I ask you to act as my first-sisters in this. I think that Dorindha likes me well enough.”
As soon as Melaine spoke those words, the other women’s hilarity changed to something else. They still laughed, but they hugged her and told her how happy they were for her, and how well she would do with Bael. Amys and Bair, at least, took Dorindha’s acceptance for granted. The three of them departed all but arm-in-arm, still laughing and giggling like girls. Not before telling Egwene and Aviendha to straighten the tent, though.
“Egwene, could a woman of your land accept a sister-wife?” Aviendha asked, using a stick to push the cover off the smoke hole.
Egwene wished she had left that duty till last; the heat began to dissipate immediately. “I don’t know,” she said, quickly gathering the cups and the honey jar. The siaera went onto the tray, too. “I don’t think so. Maybe if it was a close friend,” she added hurriedly; there was no point in seeming to denigrate Aiel ways.
Aviendha only grunted and began pushing up the side flaps.
Teeth chattering as loudly as the rattle of teacups and bronze blades on the tray, Egwene scurried outside. The Wise Ones were dressing unhurriedly, as though this were a balmy night and they in sleeping chambers in some hold. A white-robed figure, pale in the moonlight, took the tray from her, and she quickly began searching for her cloak and shoes. They were nowhere among the remaining garments on the ground.
“I had your things taken to your tent,” Bair said, tying the laces of her blouse. “You will not need them yet.”
Egwene’s stomach sank into her feet. Hopping in place, she flapped her arms in a futile effort for warmth; at least they did not tell her to stop. Abruptly she realized the snowy-robed figure bearing the tray away was too tall for even an Aiel woman. Gritting her teeth, she glared at the Wise Ones, who seemed not to care if she froze to death jumping up and down. To the Aielwomen it might not matter that a man had seen them with no clothes on, at least if he was gai’shain, but it did to her!
In a moment, Aviendha joined them and, seeing her leaping about, merely stood there without any effort to find her own garments. She showed no more effect of the cold than the Wise Ones.
“Now,” Bair said, settling her shawl on her shoulders. “You, Aviendha, are not only stubborn as a man, you cannot remember a simple task you have done many times. You, Egwene, are just as stubborn, and you still think you can linger in your tent when you are summoned. Let us hope running fifty times around the camp will temper your stubbornness, clear your minds, and remind you of how to answer a summons or do a chore. Off with you.”
Without a word, Aviendha immediately began loping toward the edge of the camp, easily dodging dark-shrouded tent ropes. Egwene hesitated only a moment before following. The Aiel woman kept her pace down so she could catch up. The night air froze her, and the cracked stony clay underfoot was just as cold, and tried to catch her toes besides. Aviendha ran with effortless ease.