To cap it all, the Aiel watched everyone except the Wise Ones, of course. And except Berelain, for some reason. They always eyed wetlanders suspiciously, yet she might as well have been another Wise One.
“You all honor me.” Rand hoped he did not sound too dry. Back to a parade. He wondered where Egwene was. Probably lolling in bed. Briefly he considered finding her and making one last effort to. . . . No, if she would not tell, he did not know how to make her. Too bad being ta’veren did not work when he most wanted it to. “Unfortunately, I will not be able to talk with you more this morning. I am returning to Caemlyn.” Andor was the problem he had to deal with now. Andor, and Sammael.
“Your orders are to be carried out, my Lord Dragon,” Berelain said. “This morning, so you may witness it.”
“My orders?”
“Mangin,” she said. “He was told this morning.” Most of the Wise Ones had donned a flat expression, but Bair and Sorilea both wore open disapproval. Surprisingly, it was directed at Berelain.
“I don’t mean to be a witness to every murderer who’s hung,” Rand said coldly. In truth, he had forgotten, or rather shoved it out of his mind. Hanging a man you liked was not something anyone would want to remember. Rhuarc and the other chiefs had not even mentioned it when he spoke with them. Another truth was that he would not make this execution special. Aiel had to live by the law like anyone else; Cairhienin and Tairens had to see that, and know that if he would not play favorites with the Aiel, he certainly would not with them. You use everything and everybody, he thought, sickened; at least, he hoped he had thought it. Besides, he did not want to watch any hanging; much less Mangin’s.
Meilan certainly looked thoughtful, and sweat was beading on Aracome’s forehead, though that might have been the heat. Colavaere, face going pale, seemed to be seeing him for the first time ever. Berelain divided a rueful glance between Bair and Sorilea, who nodded; could they have told her he would answer as he had? It did not seem possible. The others’ reactions varied from surprise to satisfaction, but he noted Selande in particular. Wide-eyed, she forgot the Maidens; if she had looked at Rand fearfully before, now she was terrified. Well, so be it.
“I will be leaving for Caemlyn immediately,” Rand told them. A soft sound rippled among the Cairhienin and Tairens, very much like sighs of relief.
It was no surprise that they all accompanied him as far as the chamber set aside for his Traveling. Except for Berelain, the Maidens and Red Shields kept the wetlanders back; they did not particularly like letting Cairhienin near him, and he was as glad as they barred the Tairens today. There were plenty of glares, but no one said anything, not to him. Not even Berelain, who followed right behind with the Wise Ones and Aviendha, talking quietly, occasionally laughing softly. That made the hair on his neck stand, Berelain and Aviendha talking together. And laughing?
At the square-carved door to the Traveling chamber, he looked carefully above Berelain’s head as she swept him a deep curtsy. “I will tend Cairhien without fear or favor until you return, my Lord Dragon.” Perhaps, despite Mangin, she really had come this morning just to say that, and be heard by the other nobles. It brought an indulgent smile from Sorilea for some reason. He needed to find out what was going on there; he was not going to have the Wise Ones interfering with Berelain. The rest of the Wise Ones had drawn Aviendha aside; they seemed to be taking turns speaking to her, quite firmly though he could not make out words. “When you see Perrin Aybarra next,” Berelain added, “please give him my warmest wishes. And Mat Cauthon, also.”
“We await the Lord Dragon’s return eagerly,” Colavaere lied, keeping her face carefully neutral.
Meilan glared at her for having managed to speak first, and made a flowery speech, saying no more really than she had, which Maringil of course had to top, for floweriness at least. Fionnda and Anaiyella outdid both, adding enough compliments that he eyed Aviendha anxiously, but the Wise Ones still had her occupied. Dobraine contented himself with, “Until my Lord Dragon’s return,” while Maraconn, Gueyam and Aracome murmured something indistinct with wary eyes.
It was a relief to duck inside, away from them. The surprise came when Melaine followed him ahead of Aviendha. He raised a questioning eyebrow.
“I must consult with Bael on business of the Wise Ones,” she told him in a no-nonsense voice, then immediately shot a sharp look at Aviendha, who had on such an innocent face that Rand knew she was hiding something. Aviendha looked many things naturally, but never innocent; never that innocent.
“As you wish,” he said. He suspected the Wise Ones had been waiting a chance to send her to Caemlyn. Who better to make sure Rand did not influence Bael the wrong way than Bael’s wife? Like Rhuarc, the man had two, which Mat always said was either a dream or a nightmare and he could not decide which.
Aviendha watched closely as he opened a gateway back to Caemlyn, into the Grand Hall. She usually did, though she could not see his flows. Once she had made a gateway herself, but in a rare moment of panic, and she had never been able to remember how. Today for some reason the rotating slash of light apparently reminded her of what happened that time; red suffused her tan cheeks, and she suddenly refused to look in his direction. With the Power filling him, he smelled her, the herbal scent of her soap, a hint of sweet perfume he could not remember her wearing before. For once truly eager to be rid of saidin, he was the first one through into the empty throne room. Alanna seemed to crash home in his head, her presence as palpable as if she had been right in front of him. She had been weeping, he thought. Because he had gone away? Well, let her weep for that. Somehow he had to break free of her.
His going first did not sit well with the Maidens or Red Shields, of course. Urien merely grunted and shook his head disapprovingly. A white-faced Sulin went up on her toes to put herself nose-to-nose with Rand. “The great and powerful Car’a’carn gave his honor to Far Dareis Mai to carry,” she all but hissed in a low whisper. “If the mighty Car’a’carn dies in ambush while the Maidens protect him, Far Dareis Mai has no honor left. If the all-conquering Car’a’carn does not care, perhaps Enaila is right. Perhaps the omnipotent Car’a’carn is a willful boy who should be held by the hand lest he run over a cliff because he will not look.”
Rand’s jaw tightened. In private he gritted his teeth and put up with this—with less pointed than this, usually—for the debt he owed the Maidens, but not even Enaila or Somara had ever openly berated him in public. Melaine was already halfway down the hall, skirts gathered up and almost trotting; apparently she could not wait to reestablish the Wise Ones’ influence with Bael. He could not tell whether Urien had heard, though the man seemed awfully intent on directing his veiled Aethan Dor as they searched through the columns with the Maidens, something they had no need of direction to do. Aviendha, on the other hand, arms folded beneath her breasts, wore such a mix of frown and approval that h
