Siuan took up immediately where Leane left off. “We can’t afford to let the boy go sailing off with no guidance at all. Who knows what he might do? Yes, yes, I know you’re ready to argue for him, but I don’t care to hear it. I’m trying to balance a live silverpike on my nose, girl. We can’t let him grow too strong before he accepts us, and yet we don’t dare hold him back too much. And I’m trying to keep Sheriam and the others convinced they should support him when half the Hall secretly don’t want anything to do with him, and the other half think in their heart of hearts that he should be gentled, Dragon Reborn or not. In any case, whatever your arguments, I suggest you heed Sheriam. You won’t change any minds, and Tiana doesn’t have enough novices here to keep her busy.”
Elayne’s face tightened angrily. Tiana Noselle, a Gray sister, was Mistress of Novices here in Salidar. An Accepted had to step considerably further out of line to be sent to Tiana than did a novice, but by the same token, the visit was always that much more shaming and painful. Tiana might show a little kindness to a novice, if only a little; she felt Accepted should know better, and made sure they felt the same long before they left her small cubbyhole of a study.
Nynaeve had been studying Siuan, and now something popped into her head. “You knew all about this . . . embassy, or whatever it is . . . didn’t you? You two always have your heads together with Sheriam and her little circle.” The Hall might have all the supposed authority until they chose an Amyrlin, but Sheriam and the handful of other Aes Sedai who had first organized the arrivals in Salidar still kept the real control of things. “How many are they sending, Siuan?” Elayne gasped; plainly she had not thought of this. That showed how upset she was. Usually she caught nuances Nynaeve missed.
Siuan denied nothing. Since being stilled she could lie like a wool merchant, but when she decided to be open, she was as open as a slap in the face. “Nine. ‘Enough to do honor to the Dragon Reborn’—fish guts! an embassy to a king is seldom more than three!—‘but not enough to frighten him.’ If he’s learned enough to be frightened.”
“You had better hope he has,” Elayne said coldly. “If he hasn’t, then nine may be eight too many.”
Thirteen was the dangerous number. Rand was strong, perhaps as strong as any man since the Breaking, but thirteen Aes Sedai linked could overwhelm him, shield him from saidin, and take him prisoner. Thirteen was the number assigned when a man was gentled, though Nynaeve had begun to think the assignment more custom than requirement. Aes Sedai did a good many things because they always had.
Siuan’s smile was far from pleasant. “I wonder why no one else thought of that? Think, girl! Sheriam does, and so does the Hall. Only one will go near him at first, and no more after that than he’s comfortable with. But he’ll know nine came, and somebody will certainly tell him what an honor that is.”
“I see,” Elayne said in a small voice. “I should have known one of you would think of it. I’m sorry.” That was another good thing about her. She could be stubborn as a cross-eyed mule, but when she decided she was wrong, she admitted it as nicely as any village woman. Most unusual for a noble.
“Min will be going too,” Leane said. “Her . . . talents may be useful to Rand. The sisters won’t know that part, of course. She can keep her secrets.” As if that were the important thing.
“I see,” Elayne said again, flatly this time. She made an effort to brighten her tone, a miserable failure. “Well, I see you’re busy with . . . with Marigan. I did not mean to disturb you. Please, don’t let me interrupt.” She was gone before Nynaeve could open her mouth, the door banging shut behind her.
Angrily, Nynaeve rounded on Leane. “I thought Siuan was the mean one of you, but that was vicious!”
It was Siuan who answered. “When two women love the same man, it means trouble, and when the man is Rand al’Thor. . . . The Light knows how sane he still is, or what course they might send him off on. If there’s any hair-pulling and clawing to be done, let them do it now, here.”
Without thought, Nynaeve’s hand found her braid and jerked it back over her shoulder. “I ought to. . . .” Trouble was, there was little she could do, and nothing to make any difference. “We’ll go on from where we left off when Elayne came in. But, Siuan. . . . If you ever do something like that to her again,” or to me, she thought, “I’ll make you sorry you—Where do you think you’re going?” Siuan had scraped back her chair and risen, and after a glance, Leane did the same.
“We have work,” Siuan said curtly, already heading for the door.
“You promised to make yourself available, Siuan. Sheriam told you to.” Not that Sheriam thought it any less a waste of time than Siuan, but Nynaeve and Elayne had earned rewards, and a certain amount of indulgence. Like Marigan to be their maid, to give them more time for Accepted’s studies.
Siuan gave her an amused look from the door. “Maybe you’ll complain to her? And explain how you do your research? I want time with Marigan this evening; I have some more questions.”
As Siuan left, Leane said sadly, “It would be nice, Nynaeve, but we have to do what we can do. You could try Logain.” Then she was gone, too.
Nynaeve scowled. Studying Logain had taught her even less than studying the two women. She was no longer certain she could learn anything from him at all. Anyway, the last thing she wanted was to Heal a gentled man. He made her nervous in any case.
“You bite at one another like rats in a sealed box,” Marigan said. “On the evidence, your chances are not very good. Perhaps you should consider . . . other options.”
“Hold your filthy tongue!” Nynaeve glared at her. “Hold it, the Light burn you!” Fear still oozed through the bracelet, but something else as well, something almost too feeble to exist. A faint spark of hope, perhaps. “The Light burn you,” she muttered.
The woman’s real name was not Marigan, but Moghedien. One of the Forsaken, trapped with her own overweening pride and held prisoner in the midst of Aes Sedai. Only five women in the world knew, none Aes Sedai, but keeping Moghedien secret was purest necessity. The Forsaken’s crimes made her execution as sure as the sun rising. Siuan agreed; for every Aes Sedai who counseled waiting, if any did, ten would demand immediate justice. Into an unmarked grave with her would go all her knowledge from the Age of Legends, when things undreamed of today were done with the Power. Nynaeve was not sure she believed half of what the woman told her of that Age. She certainly
