“Will you tell me where I can wait for Rand?” Egwene asked, more faintly than she would have liked. Sorilea was not a dreamwalker, able to interpret dreams, and she certainly had none of the Foretelling, but she could be so definite that what she said seemed inevitable. Gawyn’s babies. Light, how could she have Gawyn’s babies? In truth, Aes Sedai almost never married. Rare was the man who wanted to marry a woman who, with the Power, could handle him like a child if she chose.
“This way,” Sorilea said. “Is it Sanduin, that strapping True Blood I saw around Amys’ tent yesterday? That scar makes the rest of his face more handsome. . . .”
Sorilea continued to come up with names as she led Egwene through the palace, always watching from the corner of a shrewd eye for any reaction. She also did her best to list each man’s charms, and since this included describing what he looked like without clothes—Aiel men and women shared the same sweat tents—she certainly got enough blushes.
By the time they reached the rooms where Rand would be spending the night, Egwene was more than glad to offer hasty thanks and firmly shut the sitting room door on her. Luckily, the Wise One must have had business of her own to see to, or she might well have pushed her way in.
Drawing a deep breath, Egwene began smoothing her skirts and adjusting her shawl. They did not need it, but she felt as if she had been tumbled downhill. The woman more than liked to play matchmaker. She was capable of fashioning the bridal wreath for a woman, dragging her to lay it at the feet of the man Sorilea had chosen, and twisting his arm until he picked it up. Well, not exactly dragging and arm-twisting, but it came to the same thing. Of course, Sorilea would not take it that far with her. The thought made her giggle. After all, Sorilea did not really think she had become Aiel; she knew Egwene was Aes Sedai, or thought she was anyway. No, of course there was no reason to worry over that!
With her hands on the folded gray scarf that held her hair back, she froze at the sound of soft footsteps in the bedchamber. If Rand could leap about from Caemlyn to Cairhien, perhaps he had leaped straight to his bedchamber. And perhaps someone—or something—was waiting for him. She embraced saidar and wove several nasty things, ready to use. A gai’shain woman came out, arms full of bundled sheets, and gave a start at the sight of her. Egwene released saidar and hoped she was not blushing again.
Niella looked enough like Aviendha to startle at first glance in that deep-cowled white robe. Until you realized you had to add six or seven years to a face that was perhaps not quite so tanned, perhaps a little plumper. Aviendha’s sister had never been a Maiden of the Spear; a weaver instead, she had completed well over half her year and a day.
Egwene offered no greeting; it would only embarrass Niella. “Do you expect Rand soon?” she asked.
“The Car’a’carn will come when he comes,” Niella replied, eyes meekly downcast. That truly appeared odd; Aviendha’s face, even plumper, did not go well with meekness. “It is for us to be ready when he comes.”
“Niella, do you have any idea why Aviendha would need to closet herself with Amys and Bair and Melaine?” It certainly had nothing to do with dreamwalking; Sorilea had as much ability there as Aviendha.
“She is here? No, I know no reason.” But Niella’s blue-green eyes narrowed slightly as soon as she spoke.
“You do know something,” Egwene insisted. She might as well take advantage of gai’shain obedience. “Tell me what it is, Niella.”
“I know that Aviendha will stripe me till I cannot sit if the Car’a’carn finds me standing here with dirty bedding,” Niella said ruefully. Egwene did not know whether ji’e’toh was involved somehow, yet when they were together, Aviendha held her sister twice as strictly to account as any other gai’shain.
Niella’s robe trailed across the patterned carpet as she glided hurriedly toward the door, but Egwene caught her sleeve. “When your time is up, will you put off the white?”
It was not a proper question, and meekness vanished in pride enough for any Maiden. “To do otherwise mocks ji’e’toh,” Niella said stiffly. Abruptly a slight smile flickered on her lips. “Besides, my husband would come looking for me, and he would not be pleased.” The mild mask returned; her eyes turned down. “May I go now? If Aviendha is here, I would not meet her can I avoid it, and she will come to these chambers.”
Egwene let her go. She had had no right to ask anyway; speaking of a gai’shain’s life before the white, or after, was shaming. She felt a little ashamed herself, though of course she did not really try to follow ji’e’toh. Only enough to be polite.
Alone, she settled into a severely carved and gilded armchair, finding it strangely uncomfortable after so long sitting cross-legged on cushions or the ground. Tucking her legs beneath her, she wondered what Aviendha was discussing with Amys and the other two. Rand, almost certainly. He always concerned the Wise Ones. They did not care about the wetlander Prophecies of the Dragon, but they knew the Prophecy of Rhuidean back to front. When he destroyed the Aiel, as that prophecy said he would, “a remnant of a remnant” would be saved, and they intended to see that the remnant was as large as possible.
That was why they made Aviendha stay close to him. Too close for decency. If she went into the bedchamber, she was sure she would find a pallet made up on the floor for Aviendha. Still, Aiel saw such things differently. The Wise Ones meant Aviendha to teach him Aiel ways and customs, to remind him that his blood was Aiel if not his upbringing. Apparently the Wise Ones thought that needed every waking hour, and considering what they faced, she could not fault them entirely. Not entirely. Just the same, it was not decent, making a woman sleep in the same room with a man.
Still, she could do nothing about Aviendha’s problem, especially when Aviendha did not seem to see the problem. Leaning on her elbow, Egwene tried to think of how she was going to approach Rand. Her mind went round and round, but she had not settled on anything by the time he entered, murmuring something to two Aiel in the hallway before shutting the door.
Egwene bounded to her feet. “Rand, you have to help me with the Wise Ones; they’ll listen to you,” she burst out before she could stop herself. That was not what she had intended at all.
“It is good to see you again too,” he said, smiling. He was carrying that length of Seanchan spear, carved with Dragons since she saw it last. She wished she knew where he had gotten the thing; anything Seanchan made her skin crawl. “I am well, thank you, Egwene. And you? You look to be yourself again, full of ginger as ever.” He looked so tired. And hard, hard enough to make that smile appear odd. He seemed hard
