“Is one of those the real one? It’s a good idea to take them, but you should have tried to get the real one.”
“Nothing has changed my mind, Nynaeve. I still think we should stay.”
“Tarna — ”
“Only convinced me. If we go, Sheriam and the Hall will choose the Tower whole over Rand. I just know it.” She put her hands on Nynaeve’s shoulders, and Nynaeve let herself be sat down on her bed. Elayne took the other opposite her and leaned forward intently. “You remember what you told me about using need to find something in Tel’aran’rhiod? What we need is a way to convince the Hall not to go to Elaida.”
“How? What? If Logain isn’t enough . . . “
“We will know what when we find it,” Elayne said firmly.
Nynaeve fingered her wrist-thick braid absently. “Will you agree to go if we don’t find anything? I don’t much like the thought of sitting here until they decide to put us under guard.”
“I’ll agree to go provided you agree to stay if we do find something useful. Nynaeve, as much as I want to see him, we can do more good here.”
Nynaeve hesitated before finally muttering, “Agreed.” It seemed safe enough. Without some idea of what they were looking for, she could not imagine they would find anything at all.
If the day had seemed to pass slowly before, it began to crawl now. They lined up at one of the kitchens for plates of sliced ham, turnips and peas. The sun sat on the treetops for hours, it seamed. Most in Salidar went to bed with the sun, but a few lights appeared in windows, especially the Little Tower. The Hall was feasting Tarna tonight. Bits of harp music occasionally drifted from the former inn; the Aes Sedai had found a harper of sorts among the soldiers and had him shaved and stuffed into something like livery. People passing by in the street darted quick glances at it before hurrying on or ignored it so hard they practically shook with the effort. Once again Gareth Bryne was the exception. He ate his meal seated on a wooden box in the middle of the street; any of the Hall looking out a window would have to see him. Slowly, ever so slowly, the sun slid down behind the trees. Dark came abruptly, with no twilight to speak of, and the streets emptied. The harper’
s melody began again. Gareth Bryne still sat on his box on the edge of a pool of light from the Hall’s banquet. Nynaeve shook her head; she did not know whether he was being admirable or foolish. Some of each, she suspected.
It was not until she was in her bed with the flecked stone ter’angreal on the cord around her neck with Lan’s heavy gold signet and the candle snuffed that she remembered Theodrin’s instructions. Well, too late for that now. Theodrin would never know whether she slept anyway. Where was Lan?
The sound of Elayne’s breathing slowed, Nynaeve snuggled into her small pillow with a tiny sigh, and . . .
. . . she stood at the foot of her empty bed, looking at a misty Elayne in the not quite light of night in Tel’aran’rhiod. No one to see them here. Sheriam or one of her circle might be about, or Siuan or Leane. True, the pair of them had a right to visit the World of Dreams, but on tonight’s quest neither wanted to answer questions. Elayne apparently saw it as a hunt; consciously or not, she had togged herself out like Birgitte, in green coat and white trousers. She blinked at the silver bow in her hand, and it vanished along with the quiver.
Nynaeve checked her own garments and sighed. A blue silk ball gown, embroidered with golden flowers around the low neckline and in twined lines down the full skirt. She could feel velvet dancing slippers on her feet. What you wore in Tel’aran’rhiod did not really matter, but whatever had possessed her mind to choose this? “You realize this might not work,” she said, changing to good plain Two Rivers woolens and stout shoes. Elayne had no right to smile that way. A silver bow. Ha! “We’re supposed to have some idea at least of what we’re looking for, something about it.”
“It will have to do, Nynaeve. According to you, the Wise Ones said the stronger the need the better, and we surely need something, or the help we promised Rand is going to vanish except for whatever Elaida is willing to give. I won’t let that happen, Nynaeve. I will not.”
“Put your chin down. Neither will I, if there’s anything we can do about it. We might as well get on with this.” Linking hands with Elayne, Nynaeve closed her eyes. Need. She hoped some part of her had some notion what it was they needed. Maybe nothing would happen. Need. Suddenly everything seemed to slide around her; she felt Tel’aran’rhiod tilt and swoop.
Her eyes sprang open immediately. Each step using need was taken blind, of necessity, and while each took you closer to what you sought, any one could drop you down in a pit of vipers, or a lion disturbed at its kill could bite your leg off.
There were no lions, yet what there was was disturbing. It was bright midday, but that did not bother her; time flowed differently here. She and Elayne were holding hands in a cobblestone street, surrounded by buildings of brick and stone. Elaborate cornices and friezes decorated houses and shops alike. Ornate cupolas decorated tile rooftops, and bridges of stone or wood arched across the street, sometimes three or four stories up. Heaps of garbage, old clothes and broken furniture stood piled on street corners, and rats scurried about by the score, sometimes pausing to chitter fearless challenges at them. People dreaming themselves to the brink of Tel’aran’rhiod flickered in and out of existence. A man fell shrieking from one of the bridges and vanished before he hit the cobblestones. A howling woman in a torn dress ran a dozen paces toward them before she too winked out. Truncated screams and shouts echoed through the streets, and sometimes coarse laughter with a maniacal edge.
“I don’t like this,” Elayne said in a worried tone.
In the distance, a great bone-white shaft reared above the city, far overtopping other towers, many of them linked by bridges that made those where they were seem low. They were in Tar Valon, in the part where Nynaeve had caught a glimpse of Leane last time. Leane had not been very forthcoming about what she had been doing; increasing the awe and legend of the mysterious Aes Sedai, she had claimed with a smile.
“It doesn’t matter,” Nynaeve said stoutly. “Nobody in Tar Valon even knows about the World of Dreams. We won’t run into anybody.” Her stomach turned over as a bloody-faced man suddenly appeared, staggering toward them. He had no hands, only spurting stumps.
“That was not what I meant,” Elayne muttered.
“Let’s be on about it.” Nynaeve closed her eyes. Need.
Shift.
They were in the Tower, in one of the tapestry-hung curving hallways. A plump novice-clad girl popped into existence not three paces away, her big eyes going wider when she saw them. “Please,” she whimpered. “Please?” And was gone.
Suddenly Elayne gasped, “Egwene!”
Nynaeve whirled around but the passage was empty.
“I saw her,” Elayne insisted. “I know I did.”
“I suppose she can touch Tel’aran’rhiod in an ordinary dream like anyone else,” Nynaeve told her. “Let’s just get on with what we’re here for.” She was beginning to feel more than uneasy. They linked hands again. Need.