“Your sisters, of course,” Surandha laughed. She was a handsome woman, with large blue eyes, and laughter made her beautiful. Some five years older than Egwene, she could channel as strongly as many Aes Sedai and was eagerly awaiting the call to a hold of her own. In the meanwhile, of course, she jumped when Sorilea thought jump. “What else would make them leap as if they had sat on segade spines?”
“We should send Sorilea to talk with them,” Egwene said, taking a green-striped cup of tea from the gai’shain. While telling her how his Younglings were crowded into all the bedrooms not taken by the Aes Sedai, and some into the stables, Gawyn had let slip that there was no room for even another scullery maid, and that the Aes Sedai were not preparing any. It was good news. “Sorilea could make any number of Aes Sedai sit up straight.” Surandha’s head went back in gales of laughter.
Estair’s laugh was faint, and more than a touch scandalized. A slender young woman with serious gray eyes, she always behaved as if a Wise One was watching her. It never ceased to amaze Egwene that Sorilea should have an apprentice who was full of fun, while Aeron, pleasant and smiling, with never a cross word, had one who seemed to hunt for rules to obey. “I believe it is the Car’a’carn,” Estair said in the gravest of tones.
“Why?” Egwene asked absently. She was just going to have to avoid the city. Except for Gawyn, of course; embarrassing as it might be to admit, she would not forgo meeting him for anything less than the certainty of Nesune waiting in The Long Man. That meant back to walking around the city walls for exercise, in all that dust. This morning had been an exception, but she was not going to give the Wise Ones any excuse to put off her return to Tel’aran’rhiod. Tonight they would meet the Salidar Aes Sedai alone, but in seven nights, she would be with them. “What now?”
“You have not heard?” Surandha exclaimed.
In two or three days she could approach Nynaeve and Elayne, or speak to them in their dreams again. Try to speak to them, anyway; you could never be absolutely certain the other person knew you were more than a dream, not unless they were used to communicating that way, which Nynaeve and Elayne certainly were not. She had only spoken to them that way once before. In any case, the thought of approaching them at all still made her vaguely uneasy. She had had another hazy almost nightmare about it; every time one of them said a word, they tripped and fell on their faces or dropped a cup or plate or knocked over a vase, always something that shattered on impact. Since interpreting the dream about Gawyn becoming her Warder she had been making an effort at all of them. To no real effect so far, but she was sure that one had meaning. Maybe it was best to wait on the next meeting to speak to them. Besides, there was always the chance of running into Gawyn’s dreams again, being drawn in. Just the thought made her cheeks color.
“The Car’a’carn has returned,” Estair said. “He is to meet your sisters this afternoon.”
All thoughts of Gawyn and dreams gone, Egwene frowned into her teacup. Twice inside ten days. It was unusual for him to come back so soon. Why had he? Had he learned of the Tower Aes Sedai somehow? How? And as always, his trips themselves triggered their own question. How did he do it?
“How does he do what?” Estair asked, and Egwene blinked, startled that she had spoken aloud.
“How does he upset my stomach so easily?”
Surandha shook her head in commiseration, but she grinned too. “He is a man, Egwene.”
“He is the Car’a’carn,” Estair said with heavy emphasis, and more than a touch of reverence. Egwene would not be entirely surprised to see her wind that fool strip of cloth around her head.
Surandha immediately tackled Estair over how she was ever going to deal with a hold chief, much less a sept or clan chief, if she did not realize that a man did not stop being a man just because he led, while Estair maintained stoutly that the Car’a’carn was different. One of the older women, Mera, who had come to see her daughter, leaned toward them and said that the way to handle any chief—hold, sept, clan or the Car’a’carn—was the same as the way to handle a husband, which brought a laugh from Baerin, also there to visit a daughter, and a comment that that would be a good way to have a roofmistress lay her knife at your feet, a declaration of feud. Baerin had been a Maiden before she married, but anyone could declare a feud with anyone other than a Wise One or a blacksmith. Before the words were well out of Mera’s mouth everybody except the gai’shain joined in, overwhelming poor Estair—the Car’a’carn was a chief among chiefs, no more; that was certain—but arguing whether it was better to approach a chief directly or through his roofmistress.
Egwene paid little attention. Surely Rand would not do anything foolish. He had been properly doubtful concerning Elaida’s letter, yet he believed Alviarin’s, which was not only more cordial, but downright fawning. He thought he had friends, even followers, in the Tower. She did not. Three Oaths or no Three Oaths, she was convinced Elaida and Alviarin had worked up that second letter between them, with all its ridiculous talk of “kneeling in his radiance.” It was all a ploy to get him into the Tower.
Looking at her hands regretfully, she sighed and set down her cup. It was snatched up by the gai’shain before her hand was well away.
“I must go,” she told the two apprentices. “There’s something I realize I have to do.” Surandha and Estair made noises about going with her—well, more than noises; if Aiel said something, they meant it—but they were caught up in the discussion and did not argue when she insisted they stay. Wrapping her shawl around her head again and leaving the rising voices behind—Mera was telling Estair in no uncertain tones that she might be a Wise One eventually, but until she was she could listen to a woman who had managed a husband and raised three daughters and two sons without a sister-wife to help—Egwene ducked back into the windblown dust.
In the city, she tried to creep through the crowded streets without appearing to creep, tried to look every way while seeming to watch only where she was going. The chances of walking into Nesune were small, but. . . . Ahead of her two women in sober dresses and prim aprons sidestepped to go around one another, but both moved the same way, and they came nose to nose. Murmured apologies, and each woman stepped aside again. In the same direction. More apologies, and as if dancing, they moved together once more. As Egwene passed them, they were still stepping from side to side in perfect unison, faces beginning to redden, apologies swallowed behind compressed lips. How long it might go on she had no idea, but it was well to remember that Rand was in the city. Light, when he was around, it would not be beyond belief for her to walk right up on all six Aes Sedai just as a gust of wind ripped the shawl from around her head and three people shouted her name and called her Aes Sedai. With him around, it would not be entirely beyond b
